Dangerous Waters

by Juliet E. McKenna

  Zurenne retaliated as best she could. ‘Since you talk of neighbours, my lord, what does Baron Tallatt think of your proposals?’

  Karpis smiled, malicious. ‘Lord Tallatt and I discussed our concerns in Duryea. He and I will propose our mutual management of Halferan’s lands.’

  It was as she’d feared. They sought to divide her daughters’ inheritance between them. Zurenne raised her chin, defiant. ‘You will not.’

  ‘As you make your case to parliament,’ Jilseth enquired, ‘will you explain why you supported Master Minelas? I fear the noble barons won’t think much of your judgement,’ she continued thoughtfully, ‘when our witnesses give their testimony. How Minelas and his creature there—’ she nodded towards Starrid ‘—dismissed the demesne’s honest servants in favour of wharf rats and footpads with license to insult any maiden who came within reach.’

  Zurenne saw that Karpis hadn’t known that verse of this ballad. He narrowed his eyes at Starrid who was now hesitating between the baron’s retinue and a line of Halferan men barring his way.

  ‘If you give that thief houseroom, count your silver nightly,’ Zurenne advised the baron. ‘All he’ll get here is a bed in the midden by the road.’

  ‘Shall we chuck him in the muck heap?’ The old sergeant stepped forward, several men eagerly following.

  A handful of the Karpis men slid from their saddles, ready for a fight. It would be an unequal one. The newcomers wore chainmail hauberks and coifs. Barely half the Halferans even had a sword.

  Starrid smirked while Karpis shook his head with insincere dismay. ‘A master’s hand is sorely needed, if Halferan offers violence to its neighbours.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Jilseth said apologetically. ‘My lord, do you have a penny?’

  ‘What?’ Karpis looked at her, perplexed.

  ‘A copper penny.’ Jilseth held out her hand. ‘If I may.’

  Bemused as he was, Karpis couldn’t resist some petty spite. Not armoured himself, he rummaged in a doublet pocket under his cloak. With a flick of his thumb, he sent a single coin tumbling to the ground in front of his curious horse. ‘You can—’

  Before he could invite Jilseth to grovel for it, the coin darted to her waiting palm.

  ‘My thanks.’ She nodded at the startled baron and passed her other hand over the coin.

  As astonished as everyone else, Zurenne watched the meagre copper disc rise into the air. As it began to spin, it began to grow. Golden magelight burned away the tarnish to leave the metal gleaming.

  Jilseth gestured and a candle flew through the open door of the guards’ hall, swift as an arrow. The wick kindled with scarlet sorcery as she plucked it from the air. The copper disc was now as broad as her hand, as brightly polished as a mirror.

  ‘What—’ Karpis’s apprehension strangled the rest of his question.

  ‘I must bespeak the Archmage.’ Jilseth’s expression suggested this should be obvious. ‘He should know of your proposals, my lord.’

  Unnerved, Karpis blustered. ‘Caladhrian affairs are no business of Hadrumal’s!’

  ‘Forgive me, my lord.’ Jilseth wasn’t remotely contrite. ‘Since you’ve been in Duryea for the parliament, you can’t know that Baron Taine and Baron Saldiray have sought Hadrumal’s aid in uncovering the depths of Master Minelas’s deceptions. I know the Archmage wants to know how you and Lord Tallatt were duped.’

  ‘What?’ Karpis involuntarily reined his horse back a couple of paces. ‘No. You cannot use magic against us.’

  ‘Not even the Archmage can stop me using my magic however I might choose,’ Jilseth assured Karpis, her hazel eyes opaque. ‘He can punish me if he doesn’t accept my reasons. But if I choose to risk his wrath, I can do whatever I wish.’

  Like everyone else in the courtyard, Zurenne was agog. Was Jilseth going to turn Karpis into a toad like some hedge mage from a tavern tale?

  Then Karpis’s retinue began exclaiming. Their horses stamped and whinnied, sorely affronted.

  ‘Talagrin’s hairy balls!’ One man swore, wrenching at his sword hilt. It came free with only a handspan of corroded metal below the cross guard.

  More sword scabbards warped and split asunder. Brooches shattered and the Karpis men’s cloaks slid off their shoulders. Their chainmail was crumbling away, leaving them clad in rust-smeared padded tunics. Halferan’s guards began to jeer.

  ‘I don’t imagine the Archmage Planir will chastise me.’ Jilseth smiled at Karpis. ‘No one’s been hurt, merely stopped from making mischief. Now, if you wish to ride home, I suggest you get on your way. Otherwise I can test my wizardry against your horse’s harness and you can walk.’

  ‘This is not an end to this!’ Torn between fear and anger, Karpis jabbed with a shaking finger, unable to decide if his target was Jilseth or Zurenne.

  Then he wrenched at his horse’s reins and spurred for the gateway as if Poldrion’s own demons pursued him. His men followed, all discipline abandoned. Starrid fled after them, scrambling back into his saddle, frantically shouting that he knew nothing of this terrifying stranger.

  ‘That should give him pause for thought,’ Jilseth said with satisfaction. ‘You need not fear his kind while you’re under Hadrumal’s protection.’

  As the reverberations of Baron Karpis’s rout faded from the courtyard, Zurenne’s delight at his humiliation faded as swiftly. She looked at her barony’s guards; shavelings or grandsires.

  ‘What do I do when Hadrumal’s protection is withdrawn? When you’ve found out whatever it is you’ve come here to discover about Master Minelas?’

  Without waiting for Jilseth’s answer, she went into the great hall and walked its length to the stairs up to her private apartments. She had better have a letter detailing this encounter ready for Lord Licanin’s messenger.

  Would he send her some of his own troopers? Because Halferan was sorely bereft of worthy defenders.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Teio’s Strand, in the domain of Khusro Rina

  31st of Aft-Spring

  CORRAIN GNAWED A ragged nail. Could he kill a wizard? He reckoned so, as long as he could get close enough, unsuspected. Then Minelas’s death would be justice for Halferan and Corrain would argue his right to such vengeance with any man. Of course, he had to get home first.

  ‘What is this place?’ Kusint looked warily around.

  ‘Don’t draw the overseer’s eye,’ Hosh warned in low tones. ‘Take this.’

  Corrain shook off his distractions and accepted the basket of straw-packed bottles. Kusint took the next and they headed for the Reef Eagle’s stern rail. This time their feet had been freed, just leaving their forearms burdened with manacles linked by clinking chains.

  The rower who normally sat so silent beside him said something mocking.

  Corrain smiled back at him. ‘Pick up a basket, you slack-arsed goat lover.’

  ‘Don’t.’ Hosh’s nervous eyes darted towards the Aldabreshin overseer standing by the other ladder on the far side of the stern post.

  ‘They don’t understand.’ Speaking in coastal Caladhrian, Corrain smiled amiably at the silent man.

  ‘This would be a bad time to learn that they do.’ Kusint handed his basket to another rower perched on one of the stern ladders. An Archipelagan crewman was supervising two others loading the net sling. Coffers and sacks from the hold were being lowered carefully to flat bottomed boats poling to and fro across this shallow bay.

  A great many galleys were anchored within the curving reef. Ashore the sands were thronged with Archipelagan traders, from the humblest sitting on a blanket beside a spread of wood and shell trinkets to those relaxing beneath a shady canopy as their minions haggled with customers over silks, ceramics and metalwork.

  ‘What is this place?’ Kusint’s eyes asked Corrain a different question. Is this the place?

  ‘It’s a trading beach, like a market.’ Corrain held the red-head’s gaze. Yes.

  ‘This warlord, Khusro Rina, keeps a close watch on his waters,’ Hos
h quickly explained in clear Tormalin for the benefit of anyone listening. ‘Galleys and triremes may only use the waterways which he has approved for their passage. Galleys may only land their cargo at these designated trading beaches.’

  Corrain breathed a silent prayer to the gods he didn’t believe in. Don’t let anyone suspect they planned to escape.

  Before they had embarked, chained to inconveniently separated oars, Corrain had told Kusint everything that they knew about these trading beaches and what they guessed about their customs and practise. Uncertainties still outweighed their knowledge. Corrain’s hands shook as he passed the basket to Kusint.

  The Forest youth held it between them. ‘I heard they don’t use coin. How can they have a market?’

  ‘They bargain,’ Hosh volunteered. ‘Cloth for food or a ride to some other island in return for a cooking pot.’

  The overseer was eyeing them. Corrain shrugged. ‘What’s that to us?’

  But of course, it was vital. Because slave or free, a man must have something of value to trade to get ashore. He looked at Hosh.

  The scrawny lad cleared his throat and went over to the other stern ladder. He waited meekly for the overseer to conclude his dealings with the Archipelagan in the flat-bottomed boat beside the galley.

  If the overseer noticed the lad’s pallor beneath his sweat, they just had to hope he’d take Hosh’s cowering as his due from the wretched mainland barbarian. Corrain looked away, lest his anxiety betray them. He could only trust that the lad was saying what they’d agreed, meeting beneath the ugly tree on the anchorage beach in the dead of night.

  The heavens offered propitious omens for trade. The Diamond, the Amethyst and the Opal were all in the arc of the sky that promised the Aldabreshi wealth and possessions. The shining stars of the Vizail Blossom would rise this very night on the eastern horizon, token of plenty alongside the heavenly Ruby, emblem of courage.

  Hosh had a trade of his own to offer the overseer. He understood the mainland tongue so he’d understand the northern merchants as they strolled among the tented pavilions and modest awnings on the sands. He could tell the overseer what he overheard, to offer the Aldabreshin rogue an advantage when he had liberty to go ashore. All the galley master’s henchmen had stolen mainland goods to trade on their own account.

  Corrain could guess the overseer was asking Hosh what the boy wanted in return.

  Hosh squared his narrow shoulders, only emphasising his painfully prominent ribs. He spoke up boldly nevertheless. He wished to be the slave collecting the leavings from those trading food; discarded scraps of flatbread, fruit with the first bloom of mould, the dregs of broth from cauldrons already emptied of stewed meat and vegetables.

  Rowers were fed such garbage in return for the titbits of news which galleys carried between these trading strands. Humble islanders wanted word of neighbouring domains, however jealously their warlords guarded the tidings brought by their courier doves.

  ‘Halcarion smiles today,’ Kusint breathed as the overseer nodded.

  Corrain grunted. The Forest goddess of love and luck had a great deal more to do if he were ever to revere her again. Even if fortune had favoured them so far. The blind corsair had come to trade in the Khusro domain which lay between the mainland and the corsairs’ home isle. Had the skies decreed otherwise, he would have ordered the ships southwards to the welcoming beaches and merchants of the Miris domain. Desperate as their plan was, it would have been suicidal in more southerly waters.

  Better yet, the trireme was anchored on the far side of the reef, along with a handful other such predatory craft. Khusro Rina wouldn’t allow any warship close enough to launch an attack on the trading beach. That should win them a little more time once the overseer realised something was wrong. Once he decided the risks of not sending word to the blind corsair outweighed the dangers of being the herald of bad news.

  There’d be few people on the galley whom he could ask for advice. The galley master and whip master had already gone ashore, shallow boats ferrying their personal loot. Barely a third of the corsairs remained to keep the slaves in check.

  Now their hopes lay in Hosh’s bony hands. Corrain hated that. If he wanted a job doing properly, he was used to doing it himself.

  There it was! The signal they’d agreed. Hosh clasped his hands behind his back as he ducked an obedient head to the overseer. Now he gestured to Corrain and Kusint, ushering them to the stern ladder.

  The silent man who shared their oar strode forward from the stern hatch down to the hold. He called out to the overseer. Corrain saw Hosh’s dismay at the Archipelagan’s reply.

  ‘We have to take him with us,’ he explained as he rejoined the two of them by the ladder.

  ‘He’s only a greedy son of whore.’ Corrain pretended unconcern. They couldn’t have Hosh panicking.

  ‘I said I wanted to say who gets the first pick of the food.’ Hosh waved to catch the eye of a shallow skiff’s master. ‘I said I’d be safer at the anchorage if the big men know I can see them fed or starving at sea.’

  Although Hosh was gabbling, Corrain was impressed. The daft lad had learned to think on his feet.

  ‘Let’s get going.’ Kusint climbed down the ladder. The silent man followed. Corrain studied their unwelcome companion with open suspicion. The man’s light-skinned face gave nothing away.

  In the skiff, they sat silent amid the hubbub of the waters. Ferrymen called out to each other, to men and women up on the galleys or on the smaller boats at anchor, triangular sails furled around angled spars.

  More voices rose as they approached the beach, shouting everything from greetings to curses and mockery. Merchants were doubtless boasting of their wares, their quality and their value; however the Aldabreshi measured such things.

  ‘Seen anything you like?’ Corrain asked Kusint lightly.

  The Forest youth nodded. ‘Here and there.’

  A metalworker with the tools they needed to break their chains? A boat that the three of them could crew out on the open seas? Corrain burned to ask but the silent man was watching him closely. Carrying out their plan would be thrice as hard with this bastard dogging their footsteps. It wouldn’t be long before the overseer wondered where they were.

  He considered grabbing the silent man’s ankles and throwing him bodily into the water. But that would attract attention and they mustn’t risk that any sooner than they had to.

  The silent man said something to the ferryman as the shallow boat grated on the gravelly shore. The ferryman replied with alacrity. Hosh chipped in with a forced smile.

  Corrain’s stomach hollowed. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Hosh spoke quickly in Caladhrian dialect. ‘He asked this man to wait to take us and the food back to the galley. He says we won’t be long.’

  So now someone else would be watching and waiting for them. ‘Let’s get ashore.’ Corrain mentally measured the chain linking his manacles, barely restraining himself from drawing it taut. Yes, it was long enough to wrap around the silent man’s throat.

  Kusint was already splashing towards the drier sand. The silent man followed close behind him.

  Hosh plucked at Corrain’s elbow. ‘If the ferryman raises the alarm—’

  ‘Only if he sees something to alarm him.’ Corrain offered the waiting man a cheery wave. ‘So let’s lose ourselves in the crowd.’

  That proved easier said than done. Traders were spread right along the broad sweep of the beach but their stalls were rarely more than two or three deep and all allowed their neighbours generous elbow room.

  No one paid them any attention. There were a fair number of shaggy haired and bearded men ashore, marked as slaves by their chains and comprehensively ignored until they were needed to carry something for the Archipelagans they were trailing after.

  Corrain slipped between three women examining a leather worker’s wares. A bead-seller waved her colourful strings to entice the keen-eyed matrons in her direction.

  Corrain didn’t
think anyone would recall them when the overseer came looking for straying slaves. Archipelagans couldn’t tell one northern barbarian from another.

  Hosh exclaimed with annoyance. Corrain saw the silent man grab the lad’s shoulder. The Aldabreshin pointed at a ring of cook fires supervised by a brisk woman in tight-fitting tunic and trews. Underlings, surely her sons and daughters given their resemblance, fried sliced fruits and grilled meat and fish over glowing charcoal.

  Their mother accepted a dark-wood box bright with mother of pearl inlay. She added it to a stash of wax-sealed bottles and lidded bowls before shaping a lump of cloud bread dough. She slapped it on a griddle to puff up as it cooked.

  ‘Let him go begging there.’ Kusint spoke up before Corrain could smack the silent man’s hand from Hosh’s shoulder. ‘We’ll go on down the beach.’

  The silent man shook his head. ‘No need to go on.’

  Corrain stiffened. The bastard did speak some Tormalin.

  ‘Corrain?’ Kusint was looking inland towards the open ground beyond the ragged-fringed trees edging the beach. Armoured men were lounging on benches beneath twisted trees spreading shadier branches. ‘They’re Khusro Rina’s guards?’

  ‘Doing their duty to their lord.’ Corrain wasn’t fool enough to think they were as idle as they looked.

  They wouldn’t let anyone off this beach to wander the island’s interior. Not traders, not visitors from other domains, definitely not curious slaves or even some overseer searching for strays. So if the three of them could possibly slip past the swordsmen unnoticed, they could benefit from the warlord’s unwitting protection.

  ‘Look there.’

  Corrain saw Kusint’s gaze fasten on a whitesmith’s forge. The man was doing a thriving trade mending tin pots and pewter utensils. His tools could free them from their chains.

  ‘You try to escape?’ the silent man sneered. ‘Now I know it, you are mine.’