Another wave splashed over them.
She pulled herself in. Roark and the other boats drifted farther away.
She knew the folly, but removed the weave from her face and hair and used the length to tie the survivors to the side of the lifeboat.
“Row,” she ordered Eohan. “Row as if your life depends upon it, because it does.”
Eohan leaned back as he rowed with more strength than before and found a natural rhythm.
“You’re a Martlet?” the woman behind Alana asked. Her voice full of reverence.
Alana didn’t answer. She was a Martlet, of course, but she was on Guild assignment.
The word Martlet spread to the lips of the elfkin in the water.
The dwarf asked, “What in the lowest Realm is a Martlet? Looks like a regular elf to me.”
Slowly, their boat drew nearer to the shore. Slaves of other species dispersed as they hit the beach, but the elfkin surrounded Roark who turned the boats over in the sand and carefully covered his footprints. Disregarding the survivors clutching to his legs, he strolled northward.
The men holding onto the boat begin to push it as they were able to touch the sea floor with their feet. Alana jumped in the water and helped push until the boat’s hull was beached.
The freed Fairsinge sank to their knees and grabbed hold of her legs and hands. “We thought the Martlets were but a myth, Lady.” They repeated. “You saved us all, even those of us not of elfkin.”
In awe, the words “Martlet” or “Wandering Nobility” were repeated numerous times.
Knowing she might have signed a Guild death warrant, she said, “The wandering Fairsinge nobility are no myth. I heard our people’s cry. Speak of me not, lest they come for me. I ride for our people until the water of resurrection washes me clean.”
“What house are you from?”
Alana wasn’t that stupid. She collected the length of weave and passed around the coin she had taken from the Captain’s berth and the ration she kept on her belt. “This is all I can do. Help those too weak to help themselves. To the south is a free port with a strong merchant’s union. Find safe passage.”
Though soaked through and trembling in the night air, the healthier men and women helped the wounded mothers and branded girl to their feet. The girl pulled away from the man who assisted her and fell to the ground, hiding her face with her arms.
An emaciated woman dug a hole in the sand. She placed her infant within and gently ran the sand over the body. She kissed her hand and pressed it upon the ground leaving a deep print. She created a twisting floral wreath in the sand: the wisewoman’s mark.
Tears in her eyes, the wisewoman called, “Goodman, let me assist her.” She gathered the trembling girl and the wet wool blanket in her arms.
Alana grasped the wisewoman’s arm. “Lead them to Eryedeir Province. Until you arrive there, speak of me not; I broke this Realm’s law helping you.”
“Eryedeir, yes milady,” the wisewoman whispered. She led the girl into the forest. Others followed.
Alana held Eohan’s arm. “Go if you wish. You seem kind, and the branded girl needs kindness if she is to survive and find safer shores. However, my nephew needs a companion his own age. Come with us. I will protect and teach you.”
She released him.
“What of my brother?”
“How old was he?”
“Ten.”
“Children that age were sold in Port Denwort. If we can discover his fate, we will. Make your choice; the fire may bring a patrol. I don’t mean to die tonight.”
Alana left the boy to his decision and hurried to catch Roark. As she assumed he would, Eohan followed, his bare feet sliding through the sand, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
“Who in the sard is that?” Roark handed her the tarred bag filled with the purser’s right hand.
“Swearing is common,” Alana reminded him. “Eohan may have what the Guild needs. Just in case Corwin is more upset than I believe he will be.”
“We wouldn’t need a ‘just in case’ if you followed Guild law,” Roark removed the weave from his face to ensure she saw his scowl.
“If the Guild would help to change these foul laws, I would not have to break them.”
“The Guild does not set the law for all intelligent life.”
“I never was as wise as I was when I was sixteen.” Alana lightly hugged her nephew about the shoulders as they walked.
“You’re soaking wet.” He studied her arm. “And you should bandage that.”
“I fear my reactions are slowing.”
“Don’t say such things. You were fighting multiple opponents,” Roark said.
“Who were common sailors — I feel the creep of age in my muscles, my bones.”
“You’re in your prime,” Roark said. Images of crucified bodies surfaced in his mind. “You shouldn’t have let them see your face. And rescuing a dwarf? What were you thinking?”
“I work for the Guild, but I wander as my heart leads,” she instructed. “As will you.” Not wanting to scold, she changed the subject. “I hope this companion serves.”
Roark glanced over his shoulder. “Seems like a bit of a saddlegoose.”
“Perhaps so, but I could teach him to saddle a horse.”
“I don’t think he enjoys the company of men. Or at least I don’t sense any chemistry between us.”
“Not everyone in the world needs to love you in that way. You might know friendship.”
“I don’t care about friendship,” Roark said.
“How would you know if you have never had any?” Seeing her nephew’s stricken face, she added gently, “Besides me. Friends your own age? A peer.”
“I ... I have Talia and Jaci. They are my friends.”
“They are your friends and mine. But, you must befriend Fairsinge too. I sense something important … for your future.”
“You’re sensing something?” He pressed his finger between his eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I didn’t get a complete picture, only a loose vision through the smoke of the man he is to become,” she said. A statement both true and false.
“You never tell me anything,” Roark said.
“Only what’s important. The rest you must learn for yourself.”
Roark raised his eyes to the heavens and shook his head. “We still shouldn’t have broken the law. I mean if other species sell their criminals to the slavers or write slavery into their moral codes, it is not for us to…”
“That boy is a Fairsinge. There were at least sixty of our people on that ship.”
“But you didn’t just save sixty. You saved them all. And you were always going to do it, even before you saw the Fairsinge,” he said without compassion.
Roark would have never chosen this path if he wasn’t the third born — not that he wished to rule or join the priesthood either. Her nephew’s true reason for existing was still an enigma.
They climbed the limestone cliff to the grove where their cache was hidden and horses grazed. A few lazy seabirds squawked on their approach but didn’t bother taking flight. The apprentice removed his weave and dressed in riding gear. He saddled the horses as he ought. The master spread an unguent upon the wound on her forearm, then bandaged it carefully, before changing out of the weave and into her riding gear.
Eohan wheezed as he emerged from the brush. He left a trail even a cumberworld could see.
“Are you injured?” Alana asked as she laced a dry undertunic.
“No, milady,” he panted, resting his hands on his knees.
“Can you ride?” Alana pulled out an old cloak from her saddlebag and threw it towards him.
“No, milady,” Eohan replied eying the horses warily. “I mean I never have, milady.”
“Tonight you’ll learn.”
Alana’s dappled gray mare, Talia, stamped her foot and stepped back.
“You can ride Jaci with me. She’s more confident
with strangers.” Roark removed a bar of soap from his saddlebag and threw it at the other boy. “But wash first, if you please, you smell like that ship, and I don’t want lice.”
“Yes, milord.” Eohan inclined his head.
“Enunciate your words,” Alana said. “By tradition, the Guild is beyond rank, but the members are still people and people judge.”
*
The young lord’s poise demonstrated his expertise with the horse, but Eohan felt as if he would tumble to the ground with every footfall. Trying to find his balance, he shifted, causing the cloak the lady offered him to scrunch under his body and tighten around his neck. He pulled it free and was forced to adjust again. A pinprick of heat localized in his legs and spread down to his feet and up his back by the time they arrived in a town with an open gate.
The roads were wide enough for large carts, so the horses trotted through with ease. People bowed their heads and stepped back. Merchants lowered their gaze at Alana while calling if she was interested in medals, fresh strawberries or sausages. His noble escort ignored them all, so Eohan did also though his stomach growled with hunger and quivered with nausea at the fragrance of spiced meat and rotting fruit. The roads were lit with gas lamps and the light from many windows. All around him, elfkin with ears that flowed into a single point rather than three moved about freely. Other than Alana and Roark, he saw no other Fairsinge. These were all Daosith!
“Must you hold on so tight? It’s rather a warm evening.” Roark shrugged backward.
Finally, they stopped in front of a stable.
Eohan’s knees wobbled as he slid off the beast. Alana dropped her voice as she spoke to the stableman in Daosithian. He didn’t understand the language, but she paid for the horses to be kept.
Roark patted his black horse and kissed its cheek. “Goodnight, Jaci.” Then he patted and kissed Alana’s gray. “Goodnight, Talia.”
Collecting their saddlebags, Alana and Roark walked to a nearby inn. Eohan limped behind them. His groin, thighs, calves, hips, even his stomach ached.
More coin changed hands along with fast-paced Daosithian.
“Only potatoes, Auntie?” Roark asked once they settled next to the crackling fire in a snug corner of the dining hall.
“I fear what more might do to his stomach.”
Still unsure of his fortune, Eohan watched the two closely. Alana hummed as she cleaned and sharpened her weaponry. Roark sat beside the fire reading aloud by lantern light, his voice clear and golden. The maid brought three bowls of small red potatoes, a pat of melting butter on top.
After dinner, Alana said goodnight to them both. She squeezed Roark’s hand and offered the instruction: “Be kind. He has lost much.”
She did not touch Eohan or offer affection, only the directive: “Listen to Roark. Our beds are marked with the sign of the Martlet. No one would claim them if they see my mark, no need to hurry.”
His aunt departed; Roark continued to read, now silently. Not knowing what to say, Eohan stared at his feet. His toenails were darkened and bruised. His arms were discolored with welts. His back and shoulders bore scars from the overseer’s lash.
Only when the maid approached did Roark speak again, but not to him.
“Another round, please.”
Roark tipped the maid for nearly the price of a cup and returned to his scrolls. Eventually, he yawned and went upstairs without a word. Not knowing what else to do, Eohan followed him to the open attic filled with beds, cots, and hammocks strung between the wooden support poles.
An oddly shaped bird enclosed by a diamond was scribbled in chalk on three beds farthest from the stairwell. Lady Alana slept in one. The other two were empty.
“Take that bed,” Roark whispered. “I’d rather be closer to my aunt in a setting such as this.” He rubbed a thick wax on his face, arms, and through his hair. “Lanoline is good for the skin and protects us from any insects that might have found their way in these beds.”
Eohan accepted a squeeze of lanolin and applied it as Roark did.
He lay listening to the snores of other guests, most in shared sleeping arrangements. After so many nights in the dank hold, he wanted to enjoy the space and cotton ticking, but he couldn’t. He had never slept alone. His heartbeat quickened. His body became clammy with sweat. His heart twisted with confounded insanity. Ma died on the slave ship. He didn’t know what happened to Pa. Kian was in Port Denwort, but only the Goddess knew where that was.
Denwort sounded like a human name, but sometimes dwarvish names sounded human. Moreover, if he left now, what would happen to him in this strange land of Daouail? He didn’t know the language. At least with Lady Alana, he had a future. A future with money by the look of it. But could he trust her? Or Roark?
Pa used to tell stories about the wandering nobles. These stories, while full of gallantry and heroism, often indicated the downfall of the proud and mercurial nobleborn or those commoners who stepped out of the sphere which they were born. He shuddered at the thought of being forced to dance on coals until he collapsed or be put in a barrel of knives and rolled down a hill.
A woman’s laughter was heard from a bed somewhere in the attic. Mocking his indecision.
From the next bed, Roark whispered, “If you go, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re captured by slavers in a day. If you need companionship to quiet your mind tonight, I’ll loan you money.”
“Companionship? What will Lady Alana say?”
“She’d say use a lambshead, and wash afterward.”
Eohan was aghast. He had always been told the nobility, though at times unpredictable, was beyond such base pursuits. “She’s a great lady!”
Roark leaned against the headboard. “Who has wandered for five decades. If you take a maid or whore in anger or treat them with contempt, she would undoubtedly dismiss you. Otherwise, remaining in good health and not producing children you can’t maintain is all she cares about. She takes men all the time, as do I.”
Eohan felt sick. “Together?”
“That’d be peculiar,” Roark said. “She conceals her affairs from me, but I’m not ignorant.”
“But…” Eohan didn’t want to admit he kissed a girl a few times, he had never been with a woman. He had only heard the word lambshead in passing. They were too expensive to be used by butcher’s son when lamb intestines could be filled with ground meat and sold as sausages.
As if Roark had read his mind, he said, “My aunt will say, ‘Lambheads are an expense, but less expensive than a sick apprentice and much less than maintaining a child.’ And she’s right.”
Eohan processed this bit of information. “Does she have children?”
“A late daughter who fell protecting our House from invaders.”
“Many relations must be a blessing,” Eohan said. “I hope your sorrow doesn’t make it a curse.”
“My cousin was a great warrior, but we all have our parts to play,” Roark said. “My first-born sister trains to be Doyenne like our mother. My elder brother went to the priesthood as proper for the second born. As the third, I am a wanderer. My younger brother has already secured a noble marriage to strengthen another great house in a few years.”
Sounds of laughing and sex grew louder. Memories of the slave ship surfaced. Eohan’s back grew slick with sweat. Roark slipped into the bed beside him.
Eohan flinched away.
“I’m sorry about what happened. It must’ve been awful. That’s stupid, obviously, it’s awful, but I don’t know what else to say.” For all his breeding and education about everything from battle to lambsheads, Roark looked embarrassed as he patted Eohan’s hand. “Tell me about your life before all this ...”
“Ma always hoped Kian and I would own a butchery together.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “My pa is a baker. Kian looked like him. I looked more like the smith who fathered me. Sometimes I wished I had looked like Pa. Each night, Pa came by with day-old bread crumbs for stuffing the sausages and honey cakes for us.” Eohan’s voi
ce cracked. He wiped tears from his cheeks. What the sard am I doing? A month ago, I was a butcher. Hours ago, I was a slave?
Roark found a handkerchief.
“Why are you being nice to me, my lord?”
“I’m nobleborn, but I haven’t earned my station yet. You can call me Roark,” he said. “Lady Alana saw a vision of us as grown men. It seems strange I know, but I trust her visions. She said we become great friends.”
“So this is fated?”
“I don’t know, but many in this Realm and the next won’t be so kind. I’ve traveled far with my aunt and seen how people treat their apprentices. It doesn’t matter the station or race, some people are vile. Alana never raises a hand against me, even when I vex her. She always takes care to not to leave bruises or cuts in weapon’s training.”
“You’re from her own family. I’m a butcher’s son.”
“Perhaps so, but all her former apprentices speak well of her — and they weren’t all nobleborn. Will you believe me if I say she’ll treat you at least as well as she treats Talia and Jaci?”
Eohan nodded, though he remained unconvinced.
“She always makes sure the horses are well-rested, clean, and fed, and often uses sweet words and benevolence to ensure their obedience. Besides, you’re alone in Daouail. What else would you do?”
“It’s true the nobleborn read minds as well as tell the future?”
“I needn’t read your mind to see what you’re thinking,” Roark said.
*
Chapter 2
A Possible Reality
Alana took to her bed early to determine if she could see more of her vision. She imagined the man and child within the smoke and drifted into a reverie. She stepped into a dark forest near a slow-moving river and could see the light from a crackling campfire. Three horses, including Jaci, grazed nearby. Talia wasn’t among them. Alana felt a sudden ache in her chest. It only means I am elsewhere. Yet her heart whispered, At this moment in this future, I am dead.
The War Enders Apprentice (Chronicles of the Martlet Book 1) Page 2
