‘Asshole,’ Jurgis muttered and turned his back on the walker.
A few miles on, the river left the hills and went down into the lowlands. Here, a giant wooden door across the river barred their way.
‘What is this?’ Jurgis said. ‘Whoever builds a door here?’
Maud remembered something from a talk on river transport she’d sat through. ‘It must be the lock,’ she said. ‘This gate regulates the water level between the upper and lower river.’ Jurgis’ face was uncomprehending. ‘Just wait and see,’ she said.
The bargemen lowered the sail, and the barge lost speed. Once they were at the gate, one man threw out the anchor. Another, with a greasy cap on his head, shouted something. A stout woman appeared at the large wheel beside the gate and answered in a dialect Maud found incomprehensible. At the end of their exchange, the lockswoman spat in her hands and gripped the wheel. Slowly, with a creaking sound, the gate doors opened a bit. Water rushed through, and the woman stopped, her arms resting on the wheel.
‘What is she doing?’ Jurgis asked, sounding puzzled.
‘Waitin’ fer the level in th’ pool to roise,’ one of the men said.
After a while, the water must have risen enough, for the lockswoman started on the wheel again. The gates opened wide now, and the bargemen raised anchor. Sluggishly, the boat entered the lock. On the other side was a second pair of gates, and Maud realized how a caged rabbit must feel. Afraid to look at Jurgis and betray her uncertainty, she stared at the stone walls closing her in.
‘Curse it, there’s that stuck-up fellow again,’ Jurgis said. ‘How did he get here so fast?’
Maud looked up and saw the hooded figure turn his head away. ‘He’s indeed male. No woman would move like that.’
Jurgis shook his fist. ‘Hey you, up there! Show me your face, you nosey monkey!’
As the figure recoiled, Jurgis laughed derisively. ‘I tell you; the bastard’s up to no good.’
Meanwhile, the first gate had shut behind them, and the stout woman thrust a rod with a bag at the end toward the man with the cap. The man paid up, and when she’d counted the money, the woman pulled the second pair of gates ajar. Maud’s stomach turned as she saw the water rush out and the algae-covered walls of the lock rise around her. A smell of rot assailed her nostrils and without wanting to, she closed her eyes for a moment. The walls stopped moving, and now the lockswoman opened the second doors fully. She shouted something, and the man with the cap raised his hand. Slowly, the river barge left the lock, heading back into the current. Up went the sail, and they sailed on. Maud sighed.
Behind her, Jurgis sniffed. ‘I got visions of the Brisa dungeons,’ he said. ‘Never been inside them, but I have a strong imagination.’
Maud snorted. ‘At least you scared that funny fellow with the cape away.’
‘You’re right. Where did he go? Surely not across the marshes?’
They looked at each other and then the thief shrugged. ‘Why do I care?’
The next evening, the barge reached Codnoallis and berthed at a rickety pier. Maud paid for their passage and jumped ashore. Jurgis guessed right, she thought. It’s not much of a harbor.
The locals lived in tiny wooden dwellings, shaped like upturned fishing boats, with a door and a single shuttered window. To the left was a larger building, exuding “alehouse” from every weathered beam. Along the quay, the one sizable vessel present was a cutter. She lay moored in darkness, but for a single light at the entry port. On the deck, a group of shadowy figures sat and spoke in an incomprehensible dialect. There was something different here, and for a moment, Maud studied them. They’re Chorwaynies, but what a dull crowd. No laughter, no banter; not at all like those others who brought Hala and me to Winsproke.
‘Excuse me,’ she said with one foot on the gangway. ‘We are seeking passage. What ship is this?’
A thin man in spectacles rose. ‘This is the Daisee, out of Dibloon. For business, you will find the captain at the tavern, o noble giantess.’
‘Thank you,’ Maud said, and the man gave a short bow.
‘Giantess.’ Jurgis grinned. ‘He has an original choice of words.’
Inside the tavern, Maud stopped, legs apart, arms akimbo, and stared around the room. It was a low building of driftwood, darkened by age. Cheap lamps spread just enough light to see, and a suffocating smell of old whale oil. In the middle, two men and a woman sat at a table, drinking wine and conversing in soft tones. The others, all Garthans, sat at the long bar, clutching tankards of beer. There was little sign of conviviality among them; they all looked busy getting drunk as fast as they could.
‘Anyone here the captain of that cutter?’ Maud said and her deep voice made all turn and stare at her.
A plump fellow with glossy black curls turned around. ‘That might be I, dependin’ on yer wishes.’
Maud fixed him with her eye. ‘We’re seeking passage.’
The man smiled amiably. ‘Well now, why don’t ya sit with us an’ we can discuss things. I’m Felrich, commanding the Daisee.’
They pulled up a chair and sat. Maud rested her arms, and the trestle table trembled under the weight. ‘Can you provide transport to Winsproke?’
The captain gazed at her over the rim of his cup. ‘If yer able to pay.’
‘How much?’
The captain put down his wine and named a sum of money that could have sailed them all around Malgarth by luxury liner.
Maud smiled politely, and the haggling began, avidly followed by the woman. At last, they agreed on a reasonable sum.
Felrich’s smile widened. ‘Well now; when were you thinking of leavin’?’
Maud tapped the table with a hard finger. ‘Now, if possible. We’re late already.’
‘Ah, I’d promised the crew two days shore leave, but they can have that at Winsproke.’ The captain looked around the establishment, as if to gauge his crew’s seaworthiness. Then he rose. ‘Back to the ship, people. We got ourselves a contract.’
Maud had expected some protests, but without a word, the sailors finished their drinks, paid up and left. She looked at the captain, standing in the light of the lamp over the table. Before, Felrich hadn’t seemed dangerous in his pudginess, but now his eyes betrayed him. They were cold, making all else about him false.
Once on board the Daisee, the woman, a bucktoothed wretch with hair as red as Jurgis’, introduced herself as the ship’s bos’n. She led them through a hatch to a partitioned space in the hold.
‘Here is your hut,’ she said, before she scurried away. ‘I wish you a pleasant journey.’
Maud didn’t answer. With pursed lips, she inspected the cabin. It wasn’t much more than a wooden box, with two netted hammocks, one above the other, and a small skylight that provided scant light and air. Still without speaking, she dropped the stinking old blanket outside the cabin. ‘Lousy.’
‘Probably.’ Jurgis’ nose wrinkled as he followed her example. ‘They’ve been transporting pigs, it seems. Long dead pigs.’ He clambered into the upper hammock and spread out his cloak, before lying down. ‘Nasty ship, nasty captain. We should be very careful. They’re from Port Dibloon. A bunch of gallows bait, the Diblooni.’
Maud grunted. Her weapons were never far from her hand.
CHAPTER 8 - FOUL PLAY
Their days at sea passed in boredom. Maud and Jurgis ate, slept, made love and in between they walked the deck, all sixty-six feet of it. What she saw didn’t impress Maud. The ship looked badly cared for. Rope-ends had long beards; there wasn’t a sail without patches and the deck looked as filthy as their cabin had been. Maud’s army eyes noted how neglected the six four-pounder guns were. None of them fired for ages, she thought. Only those swivels in the bow are ready for action.
She studied the mixed lot that made the Daisee’s crew. Fifteen of them were Chorwaynies, looking even more dispirited than she’d thought. They seemed strange, with their hair cut short, and their faces wearing the blank look of lotus-eaters. The remaini
ng ten sailors were Garthans; the same coarse-faced men and women she’d seen stumbling from tavern to tavern in Brisa. Gallows bait indeed, she thought and she pushed the gun on her belt into a more prominent place.
The fourth night, Maud lay in her hammock, listening to the footsteps and the voices over their heads. She recognized them by now. The nasal voice of the helmsman, the gruff one of the hairy mate, the high-pitched lookout, and over all the soft voice of Captain Felrich, who didn’t talk much but whose words always silenced the others.
‘I wonder,’ the nasal voice said. ‘Before we reach Angsthafn, would we get some sport with those two?’
High-pitched chuckled. ‘The wench is a Kell; you’d have trouble mounting her.’
Nasal sniffed. ‘That big ’un? Nah, give me the boy. He’s so soft and beautiful.’
‘That’s right; you’re one of those, aren’t you?’ High-pitched sounded amused. ‘Well, I don’t think the capt’n will want you to spoil the merchandise.’
‘But I wouldn’t! I ...’
‘Shut up, fools,’ Gruff Voice interrupted. ‘No need to alarm anyone. Wait till we’re in Angsthafn. You can ask the slave handlers to lend them to you, if your need’s that high.’
‘Ask the handlers?’ Nasal sounded shocked. ‘I’d end up in them pens with the boy.’
The men laughed.
‘Merchandise ...’ Maud whispered as the voices moved away.
Jurgis sat up in his hammock. ‘Soft and beautiful? Me?’
‘Hush. Let’s keep calm and plan. Angsthafn? I never heard of the place.’
‘It’s on the continent,’ Jurgis said. ‘A pirate nest. They have a slave market.’ His face was red with suppressed fury. ‘No way they gonna sell me. Can we fight them all?’
‘Not all of them together,’ Maud said. ‘Won’t do us any good, either. There isn’t a coastline in sight, and we can’t sail the ship ourselves. We must wait for a suitable moment.’ She folded her arms under her head and closed her eyes. ‘Go to sleep; at least now we’re forewarned.’
The next day was warm and the sky a startling blue. In the afternoon, they came to an island; a patch of green amidst the waves, with a large, circular bay.
‘Alfway Isle,’ Captain Felrich said amiably. ‘It’s a watering place, so I’m stopping here to have the casks refilled. Alas, I must ask you to stay on board. The island is a dull place; nobody lives there; only tortoises and of course a great many birds.’
He wants to keep us here, Maud thought. Why? Afraid we’ll run and hide from him?
‘Is the water safe for swimming?’ she asked innocently.
‘No!’ Felrich’s smile grew forced. ‘No, there are sharks in the bay. I wouldn’t want my passengers getting eaten.’
‘That’s good of you,’ Maud said. He wants to keep us on board indeed.
‘My pleasure, Lioness,’ the captain said, showing his teeth.
The day was hot. The crew had erected an awning for them against the sun, and there they lounged, watching the sailors wrestle with the heavy water casks.
‘Look at them,’ Jurgis said sleepily. ‘The Chorwaynies do all the work, while those Garthans stare down their noses at them and loaf around.’
Maud nodded. ‘I wonder why the little fellows accept it.’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re slaves,’ Jurgis said. ‘I’ve heard of ships like this. Felrich, like that filth Atark in Brisa—other people’s suffering means nothing to them.’
That night, something woke Maud. She lay still, listening, wondering what it was. Then she knew; the sounds overhead were muffled. She slipped from her hammock and, sword in hand, left the cabin. On the hatchway ladder she paused as a thick, boiling mist erased the ship around her.
‘Fog,’ she told Jurgis, who lay watching her. ‘It’s so thick I could splice it with my sword.’
‘Wouldn’t that be a great moment to go for the bastards?’ the boy said longingly. ‘Kill them when they can’t see us?’
Maud shook her head. ‘No, for we can’t see them either. Far too dangerous.’
Jurgis’ face fell. ‘You’re right.’ Dejectedly, he sank back in his hammock.
CHAPTER 9 - SEAMIST
Basil lowered the sextant as the stars he was observing were blotted out and a dark gray wall came rolling over the ship. At one moment there was a light haze barely hindering his sight, next the Willowdrake sailed in a thick fog, and the world shrunk to the tip of his nose.
‘Yarwan?’ he said, suddenly nervous. Then he felt Yarwan’s fingers gripping his hand.
‘I’m here.’
‘Damn it,’ Basil said, grateful for the contact. ‘Is this mist real? I don’t feel any magic, but ...’
‘It’s very real,’ said Yarwan’s voice close by. ‘It’s called seamist. Very local and very sudden.’
‘I can’t see a thing. How does the captain know where he’s sailing?’
‘He doesn’t.’ All at once, Yarwan sounded worried. ‘Mist is mortally dangerous, this close to Alfway Island. We don’t want to drift into its toothy side.’
‘Toothy?’
‘Rocks that can rip out our bottom.’
Basil thought. ‘Would an image of the sea around us help him?’
‘Of course, but that doesn’t exist.’
‘Quick, take me to the captain.’
Yarwan’s hand was strong and warm, and dragged Basil aft, past silent shapes staring into the treacherous fog. Unerringly, he found the ladder to the quarterdeck. ‘Captain?’
‘Be silent.’ Naching’s voice sounded muffled. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Captain,’ Basil said urgently. ‘You need eyes. I can make a map for you; I only need a bowl of water.’
‘Will a bucket do?’ Yarwan left him and came back with a fire bucket. He grabbed Basil’s free hand and put it on the rim.
‘Thanks,’ Basil said. ‘Here, hold my staff.’ He sent out his senses, in a widening circle. His hands moved over the bucket and suddenly a vague light shone from the water.
‘Captain, look,’ Yarwan said softly. ‘He’s made a map.’
‘What?’ Naching joined them. ‘What’s that?’
‘The little spot is us,’ Basil said. It felt queer, doing this. Part of his mind was speaking to the captain while the rest was roaming the area around the ship. ‘The sea is empty for now. You see the rippling of the waves? It’s a strong image; I’m pretty proud of that.’
‘By the gods, yes! Is this thing accurate?’
‘It’s a true projection, Captain. I see warmth with this spell. The island is warmer than the sea, so it’s darker to me. I transfer what I see onto the water in the bucket.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘There’s a large mass in the distance. That must be the land.’
‘Yes,’ Naching said, sounding strained as he stared at the little shadow appearing in the bucket. ‘Six points to port,’ he said aloud.
‘Six port it is,’ the helmsman echoed.
They saw the little spot change direction.
‘Divine gods,’ the captain said. And then, urgently, ‘There must be a bay.’
‘We’re going around a headland now; I see the coast receding behind it. It looks like a bay; a half circle.’
‘That’s right. Now search for some reefs, about a mile west from the headland. You can recognize them by the foam. Do you see them?’ Dead silence followed.
‘Five rocks in a row?’
‘That’s them.’
‘They’re well to the right.’ A silence. ‘They’re behind us.’
Naching sighed. ‘Good.’
‘There’s a ship across the bay. A small ship, one mast. Plenty of room yet.’
‘Standby for lowering the topsail!’ the captain shouted, his voice muffled by the mist. ‘We’re past the headland?’
‘Almost,’ Basil said.
‘Lower topsail!’
‘We’re past.’
‘Out anchors fore and aft!’
Faint voices answered. ‘Anchor
s down.’
‘We’re not moving anymore,’ Basil said and broke off the sighting.
‘You did it!’ Out of the fog came the captain’s hand and gripped Basil’s. ‘Thanks, that’s a great relief, Spellwarden.’
Basil blinked at the sudden use of his title. Then he grinned. ‘A pleasure, Captain.’
‘You were a wonder,’ Yarwan whispered, and Basil felt two hands on his shoulders. A quick kiss brushed his mouth. Before he could react, Yarwan had stepped back. His mind awhirl, Basil dipped his suddenly clammy hands in the cold water. It didn’t help against the racing of his heart, however.
That night in his cot, Basil lay on his back, thinking of Yarwan’s puzzling kiss. His solitary existence hadn’t prepared him for this. Born without mother and with a father who was never there, intimacy was an alien world to him. A warlock focused on his craft and everything else was a distraction. His friendship with Darquine was devoid of any erotic thoughts, and he’d never had any companions of his own sex either. Why then this sudden feeling? He rubbed his crotch, but, guiltily, pulled his hand back. He lay still, listening to Darquine’s breathing on the other side of the cabin. Again he had to restrain his hand. Yarwan. His mind recalled images of the boy’s dark hair and his handsome brown face, and he cursed. With a groan, he turned on his side, but still sleep didn’t come.
In the end, he must have dozed away, for he was woken up by Darquine moving around. She was in her merchant’s uniform and rummaged through her baggage with one hand while clutching her rapier in the other.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Looking for my hat.’ She sounded excited. ‘I’m going to the other ship. I saw something funny over there, and I got Captain Naching to lend me Yarwan and a boat for a stop-and-search. Get out of that cot and dress. You’re coming with me.’
‘Who, me?’
‘Yes, you. Hurry. If you make me wait, I’ll be cross with you.’
With a groan, Basil sat up and groped for his robe. He held it up and sighed. ‘It’s all wrinkled and dirty.’
‘You could wash it sometime,’ his friend said coolly, as she tried to get her plumed hat back into shape. ‘Now put it on.’
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