By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles)

by Houpt, David

  “There be devices o’ his that have a pulley in ‘em, an’ they slip the cable through it. As the mates turn the capstan, it moves the mechanism and drags the ship,” she explained.

  Lian was amazed, and full of questions. He wanted very much to see these pulley devices, but neither his interest nor his questions would fit with his persona. “Do they use them only to leave the harbor?” he asked, reigning in his curiosity as to how they worked.

  “Nay, lord,” she said. “There’s some o’ the lizard folk what make their livin’ waitin’ on the fish haulers, and for some coin or fish they’ll swim some o’ the cabling up to ye. We Molans don’t need the things to get our boats in an’ out, but the merchants like it well enough.

  “The ships o’ the rebellion, some of ‘em anyhow, were big enough to need more than one pulley to haul ‘em in, and had to be tied up broadside to the docks. My pa saw them land, an’ he told that tale often,” she said.

  Lian knew the ships of the rebellion well, for drawings of them had filled a part of his bedroom wall. They had indeed been big, but the docks of Mola were easily large enough to accommodate them. He wondered about the oversized docks, and of the sort of ships for which the structure had been designed. “I can’t imagine ships that big, barkeep,” he said with a touch of incredulity. “An amazing tale, if it’s true.”

  She seemed mildly miffed that he didn’t accept her story at face value, but he didn’t expect her to think that he’d be that gullible.

  From the little Lian did know about navigation, he thought it likely that the Golden Gull was taking the risk of grounding in the sandy shallows outside of Mola’s main bay. Ebb-tide was the mildest tide, caused by the moon Aliera without Lushran’s influence. It didn’t last nearly as long as mid-tide, the tide brought on by Lushran without Aliera’s influence, nor did it provide as much water depth. Navigators aboard the ships of Tieran had to be extremely skilled, for a miscalculation could be costly, or even devastating. The full-tide, a result of Lushran and Aliera in tandem, could be monstrous in its strength, and was the reason that the shacks of Mola were well above the apparent high tide mark. In some areas, full-tide could rise or fall fifty feet, and in such places could wash an entire island under the waves. That much tidal rise and fall didn’t appear to be the case here.

  The crew of the Searcher finished their evening chores and began trickling into the tavern. None approached Lian and Snog, but each kept a wary eye on the two strangers, assessing them as possible threats. Considering the fact that I’m carrying the skull of an age-old necromancer and that I have a huge price on my head, I guess I am a threat, he thought. He felt a twinge of guilt about his hope to sign on board the ship, since he could potentially bring Rishak’s retribution upon any comrades.

  The officers of the warship sat scattered among the crew, and seemed to be on good terms with them. The captain, a burly man with a pronounced limp, was seated at the largest table with a few warriors from the mercenary band.

  The arrival of the men from the warship must have been a signal to the town, for half a dozen serving girls, aged from about nine to twelve, entered the tavern. They carried the ale-laden trays that Shana prepared to the tables, carefully serving the warship captain’s table first. One of her young helpers carried a plate filled with a few pieces of fish to Lian’s table, laying it on the prince’s side. She didn’t look at the goblin at all, and had a faintly disgusted expression.

  “Thankee,” said the goblin with a wide smile that showed off his pointed teeth. The girl ignored his thanks and went back to the kitchens. Lian wordlessly slid the plate over to Snog, who dug in with gusto.

  Arden entered the Lonely Gull smiling, and nodded politely to the captain. Much to Lian’s surprise, Arden didn’t join him, choosing to take possession of the Lonely Gull’s other large table instead. It seems that the captain doesn’t get along with the owner, Lian thought to himself. Arden spared Lian and Snog a polite nod and an enigmatic smile.

  Arden was a handsome man, with the dark features common to many of the western kingdoms. He wore a rapier at his waist, its pommel well worn. A magical weapon, with several other permanent magics woven on or about him, Gem reported. I believe that his tunic is enchanted to be armor.

  The mercenary captain was accompanied by a man who fulfilled Shana’s description of Reidar, down to the shark-tooth earring. Reidar was a tall, thin man who bore a falchion at his side. The wide-bladed, curved sword seemed at odds with his narrow frame; however, it did serve to accent the threat that the weapon represented. His dark eyes gleamed, and his ever-assessing gaze darted about constantly, never stopping to rest on a single point. He glanced at the two travelers repeatedly, then, at least to Gem’s perceptions, stiffened slightly and deliberately turned his attention elsewhere.

  Arden’s remaining four tablemates consisted of the two goblins, a woman who bore the tattooed markings of one of the northern barbarian tribes, and a short, powerfully built man who carried no weapons whatsoever. The man moved with grace reminiscent of a panther, and his fluid motions reminded the young prince of Elowyn. The master assassin had been trained in the elven art of aythra, in which the body was used as a weapon. Elowyn had introduced Lian to this technique, and even though he was only a beginner by elven standards, it had saved him from the Trakalan assassin’s knife.

  Thoughts of Elowyn threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he forced the emotion down.

  The other three were heavily armed, and in the case of the goblins, armored as well.

  Lian waited for them to get situated and for the serving girls to bring them a second round before rising. He motioned Snog to stay behind and strode up to Arden’s table.

  “Good evening,” he said affably. “I am Alan, of Staikal.” He held out his hand steadily and looked directly into Arden’s brown eyes.

  Arden took his measure with an experienced eye before reaching out to clasp hands with the stranger. “Greetings, Alan of Staikal. What business brings you before me?” he asked. His voice was rough, but his manner was pleasant.

  “The scout and I are the last survivors of my band, sir,” he replied, a half-truth. “We are seeking an opportunity, and you and your ship appear to be a good one.”

  Arden arched an eyebrow and one of the goblins loudly said, “What clan?” in heavily accented Dunshorian.

  “He is formerly with Sh’rek k’lass’rik,” Lian said truthfully. “And now he works for me.” The goblin seemed annoyed that Lian answered for Snog.

  Arden demonstrated an understanding of the goblin tongue by raising his eyebrows. “A Silent Fangs scout, preferring a human lord over some clan chief? How that came to be is a tale I’d like to hear, young man. The Fangs are a great clan, indeed.”

  “The matter lies between Snog and me, sir,” Lian replied calmly. “Indeed, he has sworn not to speak of it at all.”

  The goblins looked speculative at this, but Arden dismissed it with a wave, “Private matters aren’t any concern of mine, Alan of Staikal. A Sh’rek scout is worth his pay, but what are your qualifications?”

  Lian hid his elation, for the mercenary leader would not have asked about his abilities if he weren’t looking for men to replace his losses. “I admit, I have little experience with seacraft, sir, but I am an excellent swordsman, archer, and engineer,” he replied. Engineers, particularly skilled ones, were in short supply everywhere, and his training was of the highest quality.

  “An engineer, are you?” asked Reidar suspiciously. “So you could calculate ranges for siege engines?”

  Lian nodded. “I could. Do you prefer Stel’s equations or the Gelian system?” He named the two most commonly used systems of calculating ranges, both based on trigonometric principles that Lian understood well.

  Reidar appeared surprised that the man before him had even heard of the two systems of siege calculations, and furthermore seemed comfortable answering questions about them. He launched into a complicated example, including a steady wind and a ranging
shot that had fallen well short of the mark. He described the catapult, and the settings on the weapon’s inclination.

  Lian took a moment to consider the problem, which had been sketched on the table with a charcoal stick, and then said, “The catapult needs to be advanced fifty yards before it will be able to reach those walls, even at maximum range. And if what you told me about its ranging is correct, it’s a very shoddily made weapon.”

  Reidar smiled, a furtive and brief gesture. “Excellent. Hire the lad, Arden.” He drank some more of his ale then stared into the cup with a ghost of his smile remaining on his face.

  “Well,” Arden said, impressed, “I’ve heard him give that same problem to the royal engineers of the Pasha of Damon, Alan. And while they each told him to move the weapon forward, none of them worked it out to the right range. Truth to tell, I don’t have the math to calculate it, either.” Siege engineering wasn’t necessary to a company’s captain, so the admission was not one of weakness.

  “The problem is this,” he continued. “My need for crew for the Searcher exceeds my need for a field engineer. Would you be willing to accept a berth on the ship as her weapons engineer? While it is true that the scout’s skills may be somewhat wasted aboard a ship, who knows what opportunity the winds of war might bring, eh?”

  Lian sighed and looked askance for a moment. “As long as you understand that a more appropriate offer will be difficult to refuse, sir,” he said, adding, “I don’t mean to accept your enemy’s coin during action, but you do understand that I wasn’t hoping for a shipboard posting?”

  “Fair enough,” Arden said, offering his hand again. “It’s the answer I’d give in a similar situation. We’ll see how you fight, and how the boggle does, and perhaps in time we can agree on further arrangements.”

  Lian grasped his hand firmly, “Yes, sir.”

  Reidar said, “You’d best sell your beasts, Alan. No room on the Searcher for ‘em, unless you want to add them to the larder.”

  The woman punched the mage in the shoulder, none too gently, “Nay, mageborn, ye daft fool. He’ll get none of what that bay’s worth here. We’ll put ashore in Seagate, and he’ll find a good price there.” She turned her eyes toward Lian and spoke to him for the first time, “That’s provided that the two of ye give me a share for sayin’ so, and clean up after the beasts yerselves.”

  “A share for what I’d suggest myself, woman?” he marveled. “You’re nervy, I’ll grant you that. Provided the captain here grants me leave, I’ll give you one part in twenty, plus another part in ten if you help me sell him for more than he’s worth.” The woman’s tribe, the Rodan, were famed horse thieves, and well knew the value of horseflesh. She could likely find a buyer willing to pay much more than one Lian could locate, and in less time.

  “One in ten and one in five,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

  “One in ten and one in ten,” he countered, aware that it was still a lucrative deal for her, for a horse she didn’t own. He suspected that if he couldn’t strike a bargain with her and was forced to sell the horses here, she’d buy the bay at least and transport him herself.

  “Done, if Arden agrees,” she said, spitting on her palm and glancing toward her captain, who nodded with a chuckle.

  “Done,” Lian said and spat into his own palm, sealing the bargain with a wet handclasp.

  “He’s got a good head on him,” Reidar remarked, grinning and turned to Lian. “Nan’s people stole horses from yours before?”

  “No, not mine, but I’ve purchased remounts from the Rodan before,” he replied, narrowing his eyes in concentration. “Um, Migar the Red and Fossegrim Bonecleaver, if memory serves.” The two Rodani “horse-traders,” had brought horses to the Aldri County fair the year before, and Lian had spent time in Dunshor’s westernmost county pursuing them after the majority of the mounts they’d sold had suddenly disappeared.

  Nan looked up sharply at the mention of the two names, and said, “When did ye see them last, Alan?”

  “Last year it was, before they escaped with half a county’s horses in Dunshor,” he replied.

  “And they looked well to ye?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Migar had a great scar on his face, from ear to chin, and the bigger man complained of pain in his legs from an old wound, but they looked like they’d been eating well at least. Bonecleaver also mentioned a wife and a dozen children. None of them were his, by his own accounting.” He laughed when the barbarian did, glad that he could bring her news of her people.

  She rose and clouted him on the shoulder. Her hand struck his armor, but the blow wasn’t hard enough to hurt her through his cloak. “Thanks for the word from home. Migar’s my brother, and though I’m the one what gave him that scar, I’m glad he’s doin’ well for himself. Half the horses of Aldri, eh?” she said wonderingly. Apparently finished, she walked over to the bar and began loudly demanding whiskey.

  Lian hadn’t mentioned the county, but it had a long history of trouble with the woman’s tribe.

  “Well, you’ve made Nan happy,” Arden said, shaking his head, “which means they’ll have to carry her back to the ship, but that’s to be expected. You have a good head for names and faces.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Yes, Captain,” he affirmed. He was aware that such a talent would be highly prized in a combat unit, for recognition of a specific unit in an engagement could allow a shrewd commander to outmaneuver his opponent based on previous battle strategy. A good memory had other uses, too.

  “Good to know,” he said his decision apparently made. “We’ll have a berth ready for you and the goblin in the morning. We saw you make arrangements with the mayor’s wife, and I suggest you take the opportunity for one last night of good bedrest. The bunks on the Searcher aren’t exactly luxury quarters.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that, Captain,” Lian said. “There is one other matter, sir—”

  Arden waved his hand interrupting, “I’ll have to discuss your employ with my officers before we decide your salary, but it’ll be a fair shake, I promise you. My men don’t complain about their shares, Alan.”

  The larger of the two goblins muttered something in Govlikel, which Gem translated as, “If the scout prefers to bunk with us, we’ll make him welcome.” Lian doubted that Snog would accept the offer, which would actually mean that the smaller goblin would be “honored” with the serving tasks of the two bigger warriors.

  Arden said, “You understand Govlikel?” When Lian shook his head, Arden went on, “Snog, is it? They’ve offered to let Snog bunk down with them if he is craving the company of his own kind. Up to him, and you I suppose.”

  Lian made a decision and shook his head, “No, he stays with me.”

  Arden and the two goblins shrugged. “No skin off their noses,” he said. “He trustworthy?”

  Lian smiled and said, “He is to me. I’m responsible for him, and he knows that.” Lian rose and said, “Thank you for the opportunity, Captain Arden. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Alan,” the mercenary leader said, acknowledging him with a nod. “We plan to ship out in two more days, possibly three. Make sure you bring the horse to the dock no more than two hours before we sail. Captain Cedrick will inform you of the exact departure date when he gets more of a feel for the state of the repairs, but the less time your horse is on board, the better off he’ll be, and the better off the ship will be.”

  “That reminds me, sir,” Lian said. “Will Captain Cedrick accept me as his artilleryman, sir?”

  Arden grinned tightly and Reidar said, “Cedrick knows who owns the Searcher, Alan. He’ll respect this decision, believe me.”

  Lian nodded and turned back to Snog, who was watching his lord and the men at the table intently. I hope he’ll respect it, Lian thought.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “Lord of Dreams, keep me and watch me with kindness

  May gentle sleep find me and ward me from darkness.

  Lady of Ni
ghtmares, stay far away.

  Lord of Dreams, guard me until the new day.”

  -- Nursery prayer common to Dunshor and the Western Kingdoms

  He dreamed of his parents’ anniversary again. This time, the dream took place in the ballroom where the king and queen were hosting a fête in honor of the occasion. He drifted about the party slowly, as one moves in dreams, yet burdened with the knowledge of what was to come. He saw his brother Alec and moved toward him, relieved that he could warn the crown prince, but before he reached him, his Aunt Jisa appeared, drawing her handsome nephew away for a dance.

  He next saw his beautiful mother, but to his horror, Rishak asked her for a dance.

  He grew increasingly frantic as one after another, the members of his family and the upper nobility were spirited away by his aunt and uncle, until no one remained in the ballroom but him. He heard Jisa’s bell-like laughter behind him, and turned slowly.

  The missing guests were behind him, but they had been horribly wounded at the hands of his uncle’s assassins. His brothers and sisters, except for Jenine for some reason, were in the forefront, and a mad fire raged in their eyes. Faces twisted by terrible hatred, they flung themselves upon Lian.

  ***

  With an inarticulate cry, he sat bolt-upright in his bed. What is it, Lian? Gem asked. She was not privy to his dreams unless he shared the memory with her afterwards.

  Just a dream, he replied, still shaking. A nightmare about my family. I’m okay.

  The prince’s emotional state belied his words, but Gem didn’t press the issue. She imagined that if she were to ever dream, her sleep would be haunted, too. Go back to sleep, lad, she said soothingly, and began to sing to her wielder across their telepathic bond in Aesidhe. The elven melody had the desired effect of calming the prince back to sleep.