Osbourne clearly didn't know what to expect, and Pelivor had a sly smile on his face as he approached. He handed Osbourne a small stone vial filled with clear liquid. "This perfume is guaranteed to win the affections of any woman who smells it," Pelivor said loudly. Osbourne flushed and looked extremely uncomfortable. Catrin asked for a sniff, and Osbourne quickly but carefully stashed the vial in his pocket. Catrin laughed, and Pelivor winked at her.
Benjin stood with his arms crossed and stared down his nose at Pelivor, managing to look somewhat imposing. Pelivor hesitated for a moment.
"You deserve whatever you get, Benjin Hawk," Catrin said, "especially after the way you teased him about women."
Benjin let a small smile play across his face but maintained a defensive posture. Pelivor presented him with a hand-painted pickup grid. The lines were precisely drawn and the text beautifully penned. "Thank you, Pelivor. You are kind," Benjin said, patting him on the back.
Catrin wondered what Pelivor could possibly have for her. His smile was bold and impish as he moved to stand before her. "There are three gifts for you," he said then walked to the bookshelves, where he located the books Captain Trell had sent for her. The last item he held was a satchel that consisted of wax-coated layers of leather. He placed the books in the water-resistant case and handed them to Catrin. "The captain insists you take these. She only asks that you inform her of anything you learn of them. The last gift is from me," he said, and his face flushed. He hesitated for a moment but then seemed to realize this was his last opportunity. He put his arm around Catrin's waist, dipped her back, and kissed her firmly on the lips.
The others had to suppress their laughter and hooting for fear of making too much noise at such a crucial time, but the moment would never be forgotten. Catrin was befuddled by Pelivor's kiss, and she was speechless when he stood her back up. He ran his hand across her lower back as he released her, and she felt a chill run down her spine. Weak-kneed, she waited to see what would happen next.
Pelivor walked away without another word, opened the exterior hatch, and secured and unrolled the rope ladder. Catrin dreaded climbing out of the hatch backward, especially with her staff slung across her back, but she set her jaw and prepared herself. Pelivor helped her climb out into the darkness, and she groped in the air with her toes, trying to locate the next rung. It was a frightening climb, but she reached the boat that waited below. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness, and she could not make out any details of the men in the boat. No one spoke a word.
Each of her companions made their stealthy descent, and Catrin was pleased to note that Chase had little trouble with his climb, though he was out of breath when he reached the boat. He had healed well, and now he could regain his stamina.
The sound of the oars stroking the water gave an eerie quality to their mute departure, and it felt like a dream. Catrin gazed back at the Trader's Wind and would always recall the memories of their journey with fondness, but she feared what lay ahead. The path before her was perilous and filled with uncertainty. She tried to harden herself in preparation.
The Nightfist appeared, at first, as a shadowy silhouette that became more solid and distinguishable as they approached. It looked dark and oily, and it gave Catrin the shivers. The crew dropped a boarding net that Catrin and the others climbed easily. The rough and mean-looking men on deck were no friendlier than those in the boat. Most wore vicious sneers on their faces. Several of them eyed Catrin in a way that made her very uncomfortable, and she was relieved when a man stepped forward, grunted at them, and motioned for them to follow him. He led them to a room that resembled a cell more than it did a cabin.
Catrin entered the dark room with trepidation and was grateful when Benjin refused to allow the man to close the door behind him. They were left alone, cabin door slightly ajar. Two benches were the only items in the room, but she and the others made themselves as comfortable as they could. Chase, Strom, and Osbourne unrolled their bedrolls and rested on the floor. Benjin and Vertook sat, leaning against the walls, and Catrin reclined on one of the benches. Eventually Vertook moved to the other bench and slept.
"I don't trust these men," Benjin said. "I'll be much happier when we've parted company. I'll keep watch if you want to sleep."
Catrin tried to remain vigilant, but her eyes drooped with exhaustion as the subtle motions of the ship lulled her.
* * *
The ship's movements became abrupt, disrupting Catrin's sleep, and she nearly rolled off the bench as the ship executed a full turn. Benjin and the others felt it as well and were soon on their feet. Opening the door, which had slammed shut, Benjin peered into the darkness, and Catrin worked her way to his side, but all she saw were furtive shadows sliding in and out of the darkness. Whatever the crew was up to, they were doing it in utter silence.
Benjin tapped Catrin on the shoulder and pointed to the south. It took her a moment to spot the distant lights, but then she saw a great many as the ship crested a swell. Benjin closed the door and motioned for everyone to gather around.
"There are Zjhon ships to the south. I'm guessing the Nightfist will head to open water and try to skirt the patrols. Our current course argues against that logic, but I may be disoriented," he said, and they had to put their faith in the strange men who controlled their fate.
The hours passed in excruciatingly slow fashion; each moment seemed endless as they waited in silence. Catrin wanted to go out on deck to assess the situation, but the mercenaries had made it quite clear that she and her companions were not welcome there.
In the last hours before dawn, the man Catrin presumed was the captain entered the cabin and motioned for them to follow. When they reached the rails, a couple of the crewmen laughed, leering at Catrin, but she concentrated on their surroundings. A rocky shoreline, where waves pounded against jagged formations, was visible in the distance. She looked down, expecting to see a boat waiting below, but instead she saw only dark water lapping against the Nightfist. She screamed as hands grabbed her from behind, lifting her from the deck. They groped her everywhere at once, and she heard her companions shouting. Hands pulled at her staff, but it was held fast by the straps around it.
In a sudden panic, she tried to draw on her powers, but she was not quick enough. After a sudden thrust, she fell with a shrill scream, plunging into the water. Others hit the water as she regained the surface, and she wiped her eyes just in time to see Benjin land a solid blow on the captain's nose before he leaped over the railing.
Vertook was Catrin's first concern; he could not swim, and she feared he would panic. Her fears were confirmed by the loud splashing noises he made as he thrashed in the water. Hampered by the weight of the staff, she reached him shortly after Strom and Benjin did. Vertook landed several solid blows on his would-be rescuers before they could get him to stop flailing. Benjin assured him he would not let him drown, and Vertook went limp in his arms.
Chase swam ahead with an awkward stroke and looked for a safe place to gain the beach. Though he slipped several times on the algae-covered rocks, he found a relatively clear path. Vertook was overjoyed when they reached shallow water and he could feel the sand beneath his feet. Benjin appeared glad to have the large man supporting his own weight again. Slowly they made their way across the treacherous rocks.
When they reached the sand, Catrin sat down, trying to contain her anger. How dare those men just dump them in the water?
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I always feel refreshed after a good swim," Chase said in an effort to lighten the mood; Vertook threw sand at him.
Chapter 7
We appreciate most that which we have lived without.
--The Pauper King
* * *
Shivering as the wind chilled her wet clothes, Catrin walked along the rocky beach in miserable silence, still stewing over the way the mercenaries had dumped them in the water--and not even at their desired destination. They'd given no explanation and had afforded them no indicat
ion of where they actually were.
"I believe we're in northern Endland. Perhaps a day or two walk from the Wastes," Benjin said. "We've little choice now but to brave the snows and make for Ohmahold. The lands to the south are too heavily populated for us to cross safely."
Ohmahold was by far the closest Cathuran stronghold if he were correct about their current location, and no one could argue his logic. They trudged along the coastline, covering as much distance as they could before sunrise, knowing they needed to be away from inhabited lands before the sun rose or they would almost certainly be discovered. Catrin had known the comforts of the Trader's Wind would soon be behind them, but she hadn't expected such an abrupt return to the world of cold and wet.
The sun rose on the weary group, and the mountains of the Northern Wastes loomed in the distance. The land became progressively steeper as the rolling hills grew in size.
"We'll need to turn inland eventually, but I think we should go as far north as we can first," Benjin said, but then he stopped as if just remembering something. He patted his belt and jacket then began to curse. "Boil me. What a fool I am. Now I understand what all the fuss was about when we were thrown overboard. It was a distraction. The coin Captain Trell gave us is gone--thieving sons of jackals. Now we have only the small amount I kept in a separate purse."
Catrin's opinion of the mercenaries sank even lower, and she vowed to inform Captain Trell of their treacherous actions.
In the midafternoon Chase spotted sails on the horizon. Fearing they had been seen, Benjin urged them into the hills, but the ship continued along its course. They skirted the hills for the rest of the day, walking until it grew dark, and they were exhausted by the time they finally struck camp. They ate some salted fish, decided who would take each watch, and those not on watch fell quickly to sleep.
Late in the night, Benjin walked to where Chase and Catrin slept. He woke them gently for their watch, but as he stood, he froze. "Be alert," he whispered. "I see a fire through the trees. I'm going to check it out. You two stay here. If anything goes wrong, wake the others."
"Take Chase with you," Catrin said.
"It'll be better if I go alone. I won't be long. Stay here," Benjin said, and he disappeared into the night. Catrin and Chase took up posts at either end of their camp, and Vertook stood watch with them, apparently awakened by his instincts.
"I sleep when Benjin returns," he said.
Catrin jumped when she heard a sharp snap in the woods, but nothing emerged from the darkness, and other noises followed, leaving the sentries on edge. When Benjin did return, he did so silently, which startled Catrin as much as the noises had. It wasn't that she was surprised by his stealth; it was just that seeing a figure suddenly materialize from the darkness could give one quite a start.
"There're two monks camped a few hills over, but they're in a drunken stupor, and I didn't want to frighten them. Better to approach them in the morning. Perhaps they can help us on our journey to Ohmahold," he said in a whisper then retired to his bedroll.
Vertook seemed satisfied and went to his bedding as well, leaving Catrin and Chase to keep watch. The rest of the night was uneventful, but they were vigilant nonetheless. Benjin rose before the false dawn and woke those who slept.
"During the night we discovered two monks camped nearby, and I'm going to go speak with them. Chase, come with me; the rest of you, stay here. Remember that we're in hostile territory; remain alert. I don't know if anyone else frequents this area, but we can't be too careful."
"Hurry back," Catrin said, the suspense gnawing at her. She had spent her entire watch wondering if the monks would be friendly. Her recent luck caused her to fear the worst possible outcomes, and she envisioned a thousand different ways things could go wrong. Strom and Vertook paced with her, expressing their own helplessness with muttered curses.
As the sun rose, its warmth raised a heavy mist from the ground, which concealed the irregularities of the land and made the act of pacing difficult. Catrin nearly lost her footing a number of times, but she couldn't seem to stand still. The mist had dissipated by the time Benjin and Chase returned; they looked relieved but not ecstatic.
"They're friendly," Benjin said. "Their names are Gustad and Milo. I'd never met either of them before, but we have a common acquaintance. Many years ago, while searching for Kenward, I met a Cathuran monk named Gwendolin. She was gathering and researching some rare herbs that grow only in remote parts of the Southland, and I shared her interest in herb lore. She helped me a great deal, and I shared some of my knowledge with her. Gustad said Gwendolin is at Ohmahold, which should help our cause. He was reluctant to discuss her, which I suppose is natural; the Cathurans are a secretive lot.
"There's one other thing, though. The monks came here to gather materials for something they are working on. They've got far more than they can carry, and they seem to have lost their mule. They were going to make several trips, but they dallied too long, and the first winter storm could strike at any time. Since we just happened to be destined for Ohmahold as well, I, um, volunteered us to help carry the materials." He looked as if he were prepared for a negative reaction, but everyone agreed it would be worth the effort to have the aid of the monks. Catrin was just glad someone was willing show them the shortest way to Ohmahold.
After breaking camp, they hiked to the where the monks waited. The distance passed quickly in the daylight, and the camp soon came into sight. Catrin was shocked to see two of the dirtiest men she had ever encountered, surrounded by more than a dozen large, leather bags. Each man was completely covered in soot and ash, and their eyes stood out in stark contrast. The bags themselves were filthy with accumulated ash, and every step stirred small clouds. A bowl of land cradled the remains of an enormous fire, much of which still smoldered.
"We must put out the fire before we can leave," one said to the other as they approached.
"Yes, I suppose we must. Tiresome work, I say. Tiresome indeed. I'm grateful fate has afforded us some helpers."
"Brother Gustad, Brother Milo, allow me to introduce my companions," Benjin said, and he introduced each of them in turn. The monks placed both hands around the hand of each person they met. It was a show of honor, but the black stains left behind lessened the effect. It didn't take long, though, until those minor stains were of little consequence. Almost immediately, Gustad began issuing orders.
"Empty the bags of dried sand into a pile, refill the bags with sand or dirt and dump it on the fire. Repeat, until we can walk over this area. Don't empty the bags filled with ash, only those filled with sand," he barked, and Catrin was taken aback by his manner, but the monks were not lazy. They worked alongside the rest, dumping the dry sand in a tidy, cone-shaped pile. Armed with empty bags, they sought more sand, but the soil around the camp was covered with grass, and the beach was on the other side of a steep hill.
Dry sand was lighter than wet, but it was hard to find on the saturated coast, and damp was the best Catrin could find by her second trip. Gustad attempted to carry water back to the fire, but his bag leaked and he had only about a third of what he'd started with by the time he reached the fire. Steam rose into the air as the coals hissed and snapped, but his efforts covered only a small area, and he went back for more sand.
"Maybe next time you could build your fire pit a little closer to the water," Strom said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but he could not have known the debate it would spark.
"Would take longer to get the fire started out in the wind," Gustad said.
"Less cover in case of a storm," Milo said before Gustad even finished.
"We wouldn't have to sleep by the fire."
"The tide could put out the fire for us."
"Before we're done. What good is wet ash?"
"Might be better if we made ash bricks while it's wet."
"Sand would contaminate the ash."
The argument continued and transcended human understanding. The monks loudly and simultaneously expressed stro
ng opinions on the merits and flaws of moving the fire pit. It wasn't that they ignored one another while they spoke; it was a barrage of verbal communication that only they appeared to fully understand. Feeding off one another, they spoke ever more rapidly. Each statement made by one influenced the next statement made by the other, and somehow they seemed to keep track of everything said. To Catrin, it was like someone beating her with a flower to show her how it smelled. Strom walked away, shaking his head in disbelief.
It took four trips each before Gustad could be convinced the fire was completely out. Even then he threw fistfuls of dirt to cover a few remaining coals. Satisfied, he instructed them to refill the bags with the dry sand. Catrin and the others did the best they could to reclaim it all, but it was an impossible task. Milo looked critically at the bags that held close to a third less than they had before, but he said it would suffice.
Gustad, Chase, and Benjin went off to find saplings, and they returned after a short time with a fresh-cut shaft for each of them. Catrin placed the sapling over her shoulders; then she asked Chase and Strom to place bags on each end. The bags were heavy, but balancing them made the load easier to carry. Still, her shoulders began to ache almost immediately, but she used her staff for extra support, and it lent her strength.
On a northwesterly course, they marched through the hills. No path or trail guided them, and this did not appear to be a trip the monks made with any frequency. Hiking with the bags balanced across her shoulders proved treacherous, and Catrin concentrated on the ground ahead of her. They stopped often to rest, but their urgency increased as banks of dark clouds crowded the horizon. A frigid wind descended upon them, and they feared they would be stuck in a snowstorm. Breaks grew shorter and less frequent as the air continually grew colder and the storm clouds nearer.
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