A Gathering of Fools (Vensille Saga Book 1)

by James Evans

  “As long as you can pay you’re welcome to travel with us, although I may not be able to guarantee you a cabin next time.”

  “Good, thank you. I can live without a cabin, although it is nice to have my own space. How often do you sail?”

  “We head north every ten to twelve days or so, depending on the weather and cargo and opportunities. My agent in Vensille is a man by the name of Carlyn Twomey - I’ll point out his office on the east docks when we arrive - he knows when we plan to sail and will be able to arrange passage.”

  Adrava nodded, muttering the name under her breath to help her remember it.

  “And were you serious about not landing on the west bank of the river? That was what you said last night, wasn’t it?”

  Banks looked at her again, all trace of warmth and humour gone from her face. She leaned toward Adrava and said, “I was serious, yes. It’s not a subject I joke about.”

  Adrava hesitated, surprised by the sudden change in Banks’ demeanour.

  “But surely it’s just outlaws and rumour and tales told by credulous peasants?”

  Banks shook her head.

  “I’ve been out west and seen for myself. You don’t believe me? Fine, go and look yourself but don’t forget that I warned you.”

  “So what’s out there? What did you see?”

  Banks shook her head again, eyes on a crewman coiling and re-coiling ropes on the deck.

  “Dark things, swarming under the mountains and through the forests like a plague, killing at will, nobody to stop them or hold them back. They know about these things in the north, they fear them and fight them, but each year it’s worse. Too many of them, too few men in the wilderness and each year fewer as people die or are taken or just give up and head south.”

  She looked at Adrava, eyes haunted by the memories of a distant terror.

  “You must have seen the migrants, the refugees, even in the Empire. Heading south and east, away from the mountains, away from the danger and madness and fear.”

  Adrava opened her mouth to deny it then remembered the beggars she had seen in the towns on the west road as she headed away from Esterengel. Northerners, some of them, or so they had seemed to her. And there had been a few in Esterengel the previous year when she was last there with Marrinek, which was strange because the northmen seldom travelled that far east except to trade and they didn’t stay in cities any longer than they had to.

  “Look out that way and tell me how many settlements you can see,” said Banks, waving her arm towards the eastern bank of the river. From the small raised deck they could see a long way across the rolling hills with their fields and orchards and vineyards and Adrava counted under her breath.

  “There’s a farm there, by the river, and a village beyond it. I can see another farm in the hills and a windmill,” she said, holding up her hand to shield her eyes, “and there’s smoke rising over there beyond the trees, so maybe another village.”

  “Now look west,” said Banks.

  Adrava moved around the wheel to the other side of the barge and looked west over hills and forest.

  “There’s smoke in the forest - charcoal burners, maybe?” She fell silent as she scanned the trees; apart from small areas where the charcoal burners had cleared trees near the river she couldn’t see any signs of settlements at all.

  “But that doesn’t make any sense. Where are all the people?”

  “Frightening, isn’t it? It’s not till you reach Catshed that you find settlements on the west bank. Heading north, Riverbridge is the largest town on the river and it’s almost all on the east bank. They only use the west bank for marshalling timber and charcoal before it’s loaded onto barges for the journey downstream.”

  “But Vensille straddles the river and there are other cities and towns along the coast to the west, aren’t there?”

  “Yes, but they’re a long way south of the mountains. Vensille and its towns and villages haven’t been affected by all this. Mention this down there and people will scoff, just like you did, and put it down to travellers’ tales and morally corrupt northerners.”

  Banks said nothing more for a few minutes as she guided the barge around a turn of the river. At the next turn she pointed west and said, “Used to be a town, there. I used to buy wine and wool to carry south to Vensille. Now look at it.”

  Adrava looked.

  “But there’s nothing there, only forest. I can’t see a…” she stopped as she saw the first of the buildings, an inn maybe, burnt out and almost overgrown, its stone chimney stack rising from the ivy-clad remains of a broken roof. Then she saw others - warehouses, wharves, houses, the remains of what might have been a town wall - all ruined and covered by vines and ivy and shrubs. There were trees growing inside the walls and through the remains of roofs. There were no signs of people still living there.

  “What happened?”

  Banks shrugged.

  “Nobody really knows. One night the town was attacked. A few people, those who weren’t asleep and who were near or on the river, escaped and survived, but their stories made no sense. Everyone else just died or disappeared. I came north a few days later and the town had been destroyed. There was nothing left but smouldering ruins, even the barges at the wharves had been burned or scuttled. I didn’t even stop, just sailed on northward, as far from the west bank of the river as I could get.”

  Adrava shivered despite the warmth of the day. Banks noticed and smiled.

  “We’re safe while we’re on the river and south of here things get better quickly. By tomorrow, if we stopped, you wouldn’t find anyone who didn’t believe that this town wasn’t destroyed by bandits.”

  “What about the nobles, haven’t they done anything?”

  “Of course they have,” snorted Banks, “they moved their families east or south, took their wealth with them and started again in safer lands. But if you mean fight? No. Only the northerners fight, and they’re on the wrong side of the mountains to be of any use here.”

  “The Empire, then. What is the Empire doing about this?”

  “What? You ask me that? Since when did the Emperor care for anything outside his borders unless he was taking it for himself? No, we’ll get no help from the Empire until the threat crosses the Guiln and starts burning towns close to the border; by then it will be too late.”

  Banks sank into a sullen silence and refused to answer more questions, ignoring Adrava's attempts to draw her out until, finally, Adrava gave up and climbed down to the main deck in search of more entertaining company.

  She found it at the bow where Krant was leaning against the railing and looking out over river. He smiled at her as she joined him but didn’t say anything.

  “Seen any monsters, Mr Smark?” asked Adrava.

  “Monsters?” said Krant, looking surprised, “I’ve seen a few ducks paddling around at the edges of the river but I wouldn’t have said they were particularly monstrous. Why do you ask?”

  “Something Banks was saying, a joke, I think,” she changed the subject quickly, “but isn’t the weather lovely? At the seminary, we spend so much time indoors studying that we hardly get to see the sun. This trip has been such an opportunity.” She smiled brightly, reminding Krant of an enthusiastic schoolgirl.

  “You study at the Farm?”

  Adrava looked at him sharply and he stumbled on.

  “It’s the only seminary I’ve heard of,” he said quickly, inwardly cursing his slip.

  “Yes. I shall become a priest when I return. I may ask to be posted to the border country - it’s very beautiful and the people are so kind and friendly.”

  Krant wasn’t sure what to say. His experiences since leaving Esterengel had been overwhelmingly negative and he couldn’t wait to return to the safety of the city and his comfortable desk job.

  “You aren’t tempted to stay closer to home, to settle in Esterengel maybe and minister from the safety of the temple?”

  Adrava bit back on a sharp reply and reminded herself
that she was supposed to be an enthusiastic young priest, keen to spread the good word to uncivilised heathens and needy worshippers. She was already regretting the conversation.

  “Why no, Mr Smark, how could I carry on the good work from the temple? There are so many priests there that even the meanest supplicant can find absolution. I need something else, something more demanding,” she said, looking up at him and smiling again, “out here I might find a real opportunity to help people. That’s all I really want to do; help people to lead better lives through the gods and their teachings.”

  Krant was impressed, despite his complete lack of faith.

  “Well, I wish you the very best of luck with your calling. Maybe if more people shared your commitment and enthusiasm the world would be a better place.”

  Adrava cringed inwardly at the sentiment. Another bloody idiot, she thought, as she tried to extricate herself from the conversation.

  “Thank you, Mr Smark, for your kind words. I think now I might retire to my quarters to pray and meditate. If you’ll excuse me.”

  She turned to leave and he bowed as she walked away.

  In her cabin Adrava closed the door and leant against it, cursing under her breath. Damn Banks and her nightmare stories of ghouls and monsters. And damn Smark as well, with his enthusiasm and interest and naive innocence. He was obviously keen on her and she had slipped up by failing to notice sooner. Now there was nothing to do but endure, since she could hardly slap him down while remaining in character as a priest. Damn him!

  And what had possessed her to say that she needed to pray and meditate? She sat down on her bed. The air in cabin was already uncomfortably warm and if she stayed here for a couple of hours pretending to meditate it was only going to get worse. She sighed, resigning herself to her fate, and lay back on the bed. At least she had a little peace in which to ponder Banks’ disturbing theories about the happenings on the west bank of the Guiln.

  “Remarkable woman,” Krant muttered to himself as Miss Naseep disappeared below deck.

  “Remarkable, sir?” said Gavelis, appearing suddenly at his elbow and making him jump, “In what way?”

  “Dundaserre! For the love of the nine gods, don’t creep up on me like that.”

  “My apologies, sir, I just came to tell you that I have spoken to Mistress Banks and she has agreed that we can disembark at Catshed.”

  “Good, that’s a weight off my mind.”

  Gavelis lowered himself to the deck to sit next to Krant.

  “Miss Naseep may not be all she appears, sir,” said Gavelis in a low voice, looking around carefully to check that they weren’t being overheard, “I think she may be rather older than she seems.”

  “Older?” said Krant, frowning, “How much older? She looks no more than about twenty-five or twenty-six.”

  Gavelis looked at him, wondering not for the first time how Krant had survived so long in the world.

  “I think she is at least four times as old as that, sir. And possibly quite powerfully talented, although she hides it exceptionally well.”

  Krant looked along the deck towards the stairs down which Adrava had disappeared, his mouth open in confusion.

  “Really? How can you tell?”

  Gavelis paused, not sure how best to fill this surprising gap in Krant’s education.

  “There are, well, there are signs that you can spot, signs that a person is much older than they seem at first. Older people tend to be more measured, more in control of themselves, less impulsive. They have lived long enough to become very cynical and highly manipulative, particularly of those who lack talent, and they often move more gracefully than the young, like dancers.”

  Krant’s experience of dancers was very limited but he didn’t want to display his lack of knowledge in front of Gavelis.

  “Fascinating,” said Krant, giving every impression of being interested in what was clearly a new and unfamiliar area of learning, “are there any other ‘old people’ on board?”

  Gavelis looked at him again, not quite sure if Krant was making fun of him. Probably not, he decided.

  “Mistress Banks, sir, is even older than Miss Naseep, probably much older. She makes me feel young, although even she would feel young compared to Ms Benedict.”

  “I don’t remember much about Ms Benedict, the pain seemed to blot everything out. How old was she?”

  Gavelis shrugged, unwilling to revisit the memories of his encounter with Ms Benedict.

  “No idea, sir, not really, but certainly many centuries. She was truly ancient.”

  Krant shook his head, eyebrows raised.

  “I’ve heard stories, of course, but I’d thought they were just children’s tales. I know that power lengthens lifespans but I’d never really believed the stories about ancient kings who ruled wisely for a thousand years.

  “Wisely? I’d be surprised if any king could manage to rule for more than a century or two let alone rule wisely. Even with the best intentions people make mistakes or accumulate enemies or simply grow tired of the perpetual struggle. You hear things, if you live long enough. Disturbing things, sometimes, about the oldest people, about their activities and plans and schemes.” Gavelis stopped talking, watching Banks as she stood at the wheel. Krant followed his gaze.

  “How old are you, Gavelis?” he asked, quietly. Gavelis turned to look at him but didn’t answer the question. Krant swallowed under the weight of Gavelis’ gaze, then looked away.

  “Well,” he said with false lightness, “I never thought I might encounter these ancient people. I always thought they would all be great lords or kings or archbishops, not ship’s captains or trainee priests.”

  Gavelis snorted.

  “Yes, well, ‘trainee priest’ strikes me as nothing more than a convenient cover story for a woman travelling alone. There’s more to her than meets the eye, that’s for sure, and I don’t like not knowing what it is.”

  “You think she’s on the run?” asked Krant in a scandalised whisper, “From the seminary? Surely not! She seems so, so, well, genuine.”

  Gavelis shook his head.

  “I don’t know. Let’s just say we’re not the only ones on this boat with secrets and I don’t like it at all. Don’t mingle and say as little as possible, that’s my advice. We’ll go ashore tomorrow in Catshed and put this damned voyage behind us.”

  Later in the day Adrava, unable to bear the close atmosphere of her tiny cabin, climbed back onto the deck into a welcome breeze. She found somewhere to sit on the deck away from the other passengers and out of the way of the crew and contrived to give the impression that she didn’t want to be disturbed. Sitting cross-legged on the deck, she gazed out to the west at the tree-covered hills, wondering what was really going on and why the land appeared to have been abandoned.

  Her quiet contemplation of the countryside was interrupted by Blucher, who sat down beside her, looked out at the passing countryside briefly, then launched into a long-winded story about his adventures upstream. He told her at length how he had traded fire charms and other trinkets to the merchants of the northern kingdoms and how he had been able to extract a high price for such low-value goods. He seemed to be very pleased with the results of his efforts and was keen to highlight the great personal danger he experienced while travelling to and from the northern towns and strongholds.

  “They’re ignorant peasants, of course,” said Blucher, “and wouldn’t know the value of anything if I didn’t explain it to them. They’ll trade gold or iridium or silver for a few charmed lamps or shields. Fire charms go for even more.”

  Adrava looked at him. She had little time for merchants in general but she actively disliked those who overcharged for their goods. She fixed Blucher with a stern, priestly look and said, “I do hope you weren’t taking advantage of those poor people, Mr Blucher. I wouldn’t like to think that an honourable man would overcharge for his wares.”

  Blucher spluttered a little.

  “Well no, quite. That is to say no, I do
n’t overcharge, but the northmen are happy to pay and it is an awfully long way to travel just to sell a few fire charms.” He fell silent, frowning down at the water for a few minutes.

  “And have you heard tales from the northmen of dark things in the forests, up near the mountains?”

  Blucher looked up, suddenly wary.

  “Dark things? Hmm, well,” he said, puffing out his cheeks, “they do, sometimes, when they’re very drunk, tell wild tales of monsters and murder. But mostly they like to tell tall tales of their own heroism, the battles they’ve fought, the people they’ve killed, the lands they’ve captured or pillaged, that sort of thing.”

  “You haven’t seen anything dark on your travels?”

  “No, nothing. In the north, the traders come to the docks so it’s hardly necessary to disembark to buy and sell. They actively discourage travel outside their river towns and once you’re north of the mountains the landing spots on the river are few and far between. No point stopping, if I’m honest, except in a town to trade, and once you’ve sold all your goods and bought all you can carry there’s no need to go further or stay longer.”

  They sat in silence for another few minutes, then Adrava said, “Oh look, a family of ducks.” She smiled brightly at Blucher and waved at the ducks, “Hello ducks,” she called, “how are you today?”

  Blucher dragged himself to his feet and gave her a short bow.

  “Time for my constitutional. I like to walk around the deck every now and again - keeps the blood pumping, you know?”

  “How lovely. Maybe I could accompany you?”

  “Oh no miss,” said Blucher hurriedly, “please don’t let me take you away from your, ah, your contemplation of the scenery. I’ll, er, just leave you to your thoughts.” He bowed again and hurried away, back toward his bed roll and bodyguards before diverting at the last moment to walk slowly toward the bow.

  Adrava blew out her cheeks.

  “Some people,” she muttered, shaking her head. She stretched her arms above her head then settled back to watch the countryside as the ship sailed steadily downstream.