He hurried down below for a second time and returned with two filled water skins. ‘There may be one or two more, but I couldn’t find them; too much of a mess to dig through. We’ll have to nurse the water.’
Donte said, ‘There are other islands close by. When we’ve shed this place, we’ll put in somewhere green and look for water.’
Hatu shrugged an agreement and reached for the rope at his end of the boat. Glancing at his friend, who gave a single nod, they began to lower the boat at a steady rate.
They let the gig down slowly, being careful not to tip it. Its narrow design facilitated speed when rowing or sailing, but it wasn’t intended to carry a lot of cargo. What they had pillaged from below would leave them barely enough room to sail or row, but losing any of their provisions could be the difference between living and dying on their voyage.
The davits had been fitted with monkey-jaw clamps. If they pulled on the ropes slightly, the clamps released and the young men could play out the ropes slowly. If they released the ropes suddenly, the monkey jaws would clamp shut and prevent the gig from breaking loose. The danger of the process was that if one rope was released as the other was held, the bow or stern might tip downwards and launch all of the provisions into the ocean.
Just as the keel neared the water’s surface, two huge forms erupted from the sea, one next to Hatu, the other next to Donte. They looked manlike, with large eyes and heavy brows, but no hair grew upon their pates and gill-like slits quivered where their noses should have been as water drained from them. Their skin was very pale, as if denied sunlight, and below their waists long serpentlike tails churned the water to keep them in place. Massive arms reached out as Hatu and Donte tried to turn away, but their attempt to flee was blocked by the ship’s stern, and the creature’s limbs encompassed the two young men.
For a brief instant, Hatu saw the morning sky above, then he and Donte were plunged below the water’s surface.
• CHAPTER NINE •
A Hint of Things More Dire
The two wagons rolled through the narrow city gates after Ratigan exchanged words with one of the soldiers there. The man appeared a little more intelligent than the others, and after hearing about the recent events in Declan’s village, he decided that a full report was required for the king, who was away at his summer castle on the coast, a few days’ travel from Ilagan. They parked the wagons in the shade near the wall and a court scribe arrived within an hour. Declan and Ratigan gave their accounts while Roz and Jusan slept in the wagons. Declan had argued that he should take Roz to her home and then return and share his tale, but the soldier in charge of the gate detail wouldn’t have any of it. He only released them when the scribe was certain he had recorded all the useful information they had to offer.
Roz awoke just before they started moving again and Declan gave her a long drink of water. She was recovering slowly from her loss of blood and he held her head while she sipped from the cup he offered.
‘Where …?’ she whispered.
‘Almost home,’ he replied.
‘’S good,’ she responded, then her eyes closed and she fell asleep again.
Declan moved Roz’s wagon out behind Ratigan’s and reflected on the unexpected changes in his life. Just days before he had been agonizing over staying in Oncon or leaving home, and suddenly fate had taken the decision away from him completely.
Their journey had been a tiresome one. It had taken them ten days to get to Ilagan, when six or seven would have been the norm, for Declan had refused to wake Jusan and Roz at first light the day after the attack and continued letting them sleep late every morning after.
The tedium didn’t help Declan with his worries. Would the raiders return? Would their home ever be safe? For even if the village was left untouched, there was no guarantee of safety. If the Covenant was being ignored by the nobles after the years of relative calm since the betrayal of the Firemanes, it wouldn’t be wise to return until it was known who claimed Oncon and who would protect it, or until the Covenant was restored. In the kingdoms, villages the size of Oncon were never this far from the protection of a city, or at least a garrison of some sort.
Declan had worked enough around horses and mules to be able to drive Roz’s wagon smoothly as she rested in the back, while Jusan rode in the back of Ratigan’s cart. Having no second driver to switch with meant that at the end of the day, the two healthy young men were more than ready for rest, and they were forced to split the night watch until they were within distance of an Ilcomen garrison.
Declan had come to know Ratigan better as they camped beside the road each night. The young smith found the teamster an occasionally pleasant but often annoying travel companion, as he seemed overly anxious to be on his way. When pressed as to the reason for his haste, he was evasive, and Declan decided it was probably to do with the business of his master’s death.
Declan and Ratigan had almost come to blows on the second day of travelling together, but the driver backed away when Declan stood firm, determined to care more for Roz and Jusan than for the driver’s urgent need to get back to Marquensas. Declan insisted on letting them sleep until after the sun rose, rather than move at first light, for travelling in the wagon beds was hardly restful, then made them stop for a long break at midday and make an early camp in the afternoon. Once they were out of the Covenant and into the kingdom of Ilcomen, their journey was without incident.
Roz and Jusan were both recovering slowly, and the four travellers had finally reached Ilagan, Ilcomen’s capital, the largest trading centre in the kingdom and Roz’s home. As they moved towards her estate, Declan studied the confusing view before him.
The city had clearly grown up around an ancient hill fort and spread out below the acropolis. The surrounding countryside was predominately flat, so the tor and keep in the centre of the city dominated the view. Ilagan was crowded, busy, and smelled bad, but Declan could see that the city was a major commerce centre. It was as if every single available spot on any street or byway held a merchant stall, or a table, or a simple rug on the ground displaying whatever wares were being offered.
They made a slow journey through the city, as the crowds filling the streets grudgingly gave way to the wagons. Impatient, Ratigan was disinclined to care about knocking people into the mud, and Declan stood ready for a brawl as they left shaking fists and shouted insults in their wake.
Ratigan had passed through this city several times, and as the driver didn’t seem to be worried by the offended citizens’ outrage, Declan thought that pushing through must be normal behaviour in the city. By the time they reached Roz’s home, the young smith had concluded two things: he now understood why Roz travelled so much, and he would never establish a smithy anywhere near this pest-ridden hole. It was just too crowded, too noisy, and it reeked. Stone channels ran down the centre of the streets to serve as sewers; night pots were emptied into them, sometimes their contents thrown from the higher floors of buildings. The stench of human waste and rotting refuse nearly overpowered the country lad not used to such pungent odours. He decided that the city builders must have relied on the frequent rains in this region to keep the city’s fly population under control.
They started moving uphill in the direction of the keep, and Declan noticed a decline in the stench, flies, and market sounds. They were replaced by the more familiar ring of hammer on steel from a nearby smithy and other sounds of industry.
The small group finally reached their destination, a large open yard with an iron gate that could be locked at night. There was a large warehouse on the left and what appeared to be an office on the right; a massive stable and wagon repair shop lay opposite the gate.
Seeing the familiar wagon enter driven by a stranger, the workers in the yard hurried to investigate. Declan asked them to let Jusan sleep in the wagon yard under Ratigan’s care while he spoke to Roz’s husband. Their home was in a large building behind the stable yard; it held offices on the lower floor and their residence on the seco
nd and third.
Roz’s husband, Jack, met them at the door and looked stricken as servants rushed to take Roz from the workers carrying her.
Roz looked exhausted, but she managed a slight smile as she gave Declan a painful hug, whispering her thanks, before allowing their servants to help her upstairs, walking feebly.
Declan followed Jack into a room he suspected was used for business as well as having a social function. A desk against the far wall suggested just that, and there were comfortable-looking chairs and several small tables scattered around. Along the wall opposite the door ran a large bookcase, with several leather-bound volumes separated by carved stone bookends, and a few decorative items. Declan had no idea what they were for except to look nice, but they appeared costly, being of polished stone and precious metal. He thought one at the end resembled a bird of some sort. Jack indicated that Declan should sit and said, ‘Please excuse me a moment while I see to my wife.’
Before Declan could answer, Jack was out of the room and heading upstairs. He was much like Roz had described him, yet Declan found other qualities in the man that she’d never mentioned. Her husband was heavyset with a balding pate, but he’d let the fringe of hair above his ears and around the back of his head grow to his shoulders. Declan had seen many types of traveller through Oncon and had long since acknowledged that he didn’t understand the fashions of those with means, and had no desire to. Jack wore a velvet red sleeveless over-jacket, soft leather breeches, and very polished boots that looked as if they’d never seen mud.
Declan spent a few minutes alone, finding nothing in the room to occupy his interests, beyond trying to puzzle out what those stone and metal carvings on the shelves might represent, but enjoying the feel of the very comfortable chair after spending days on a wagon seat with no back.
A few minutes later Jack returned and said, ‘The servants are bathing her. I’ve sent for a healer to look at her wound, but for now she seems …’ He sat down, his face ashen. ‘Pray, tell me what happened …?’
‘Declan,’ provided the young blacksmith.
A young serving girl appeared at the door. Declan thought she was very pretty, almost boyish with her petite frame, but her large cornflower-blue eyes were made all the more striking by her raven hair under a white lace cap. She certainly was as unlike Roz as any girl could be, and perhaps that was the reason she was here while Roz was on the road. Declan pushed aside speculation as Jack instructed her to fetch some wine and glasses. Declan started to object, not wishing to prolong the uncomfortable meeting any more than necessary, but Jack waved away the protestation.
‘So?’ asked Jack. ‘How did my wife come to be in this condition?’
Declan explained what had happened as best he could without touching on his personal relationship with Roz. He glossed over everything until the arrival of the slavers, and as he told the story about seeking out Roz after the fight, Jack’s eyes welled with tears and his complexion turned even paler. His hand visibly trembled as he sipped his wine, and as Declan finished, he put the glass down and covered his face for a long moment as his shoulders shook slightly. Declan felt embarrassed, not because Roz’s husband was weeping, but because he didn’t have any idea what to say.
Finally he said, ‘She … she was very brave.’
Jack nodded his head from behind his hands and, after another long moment, took a gasping breath and said, ‘She is extraordinary. I don’t deserve her.’ He was taking the news of Roz’s injury much harder than Declan had expected; his feelings for her were obviously much deeper than she had led Declan to believe. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, ‘You’re one of her young men, then?’
Declan said, ‘I … Pardon?’
Jack waved his hand, letting the serving girl refill his goblet. ‘We have an arrangement, Roz and I. We ask no questions, but I … let’s say I think you’re the type of lad she enjoys spending time with.’ He glanced at the girl, who smiled back at him, and he said, ‘We deny each other nothing.’
Jack took a long pull on his wine and waved away a second refill; with a small gesture he indicated that the girl should depart.
‘I’ve got friends waiting for me,’ said Declan, standing.
‘And I’ve kept you from your travels, I fear, and I should look in on my wife.’ He stood up. ‘How can I repay you?’
Declan was taken slightly aback. ‘Repay me? Roz is my friend. There is no debt.’
Jack smiled in an almost fatherly fashion and said, ‘I see why she chose you.’ He motioned towards the door and walked with Declan. ‘Know this. Should you ever need anything that it is within my power to grant, you shall have it.’ Declan started to object, but Jack put up his palm and cut him off. ‘Not as repayment of a debt, but … out of friendship.’
He extended his hand and Declan took it.
Declan left and stood outside the closed door for a moment. This experience, as much as any he’d had seen since leaving Oncon, told him that he knew little of the world beyond that village. While he felt concern for Roz’s recovery, he knew she would live, and Declan found himself relieved to be leaving Ilagan.
He climbed aboard the wagon and Ratigan nodded towards Jusan, who was sleeping soundly. ‘Let’s be off,’ said the teamster, his voice unusually low. Declan realised that, despite several annoying traits, the young driver seemed a good man at heart.
As they drove through the city, on their way to Marquensas, Declan decided once again that he didn’t know Roz as well as he had thought. He still wrestled with conflicting feelings for her, but when all was said and done, he was only left with the sense that much of what she had told him over the years was invention.
Roz certainly knew how to please a man in bed, and she had taught Declan most of what he knew about pleasing a woman, but he had never imagined being her man. She was, after all, already wed, was past the age to want children, and travelled so much, but he was certain he would happily wed someone like her, someone younger, but still of like mood – and with no other young men awaiting her pleasure.
He tried to put his confusion behind him as he judged whether or not he would meet Roz again some day. He decided that if he did, he would ask questions as the mood dictated, and that pondering them now was a waste of effort.
Still, it had been his first visit to any city of size, and he had found the experience interesting. Now that he and Ratigan were in one wagon, they could talk more freely. ‘Is it always this crowded here?’
Ratigan laughed. ‘This is the quiet season. King Bucohan and his court are at the seaside, away from the stench and the flies, so all the mad royal business has moved somewhere else for a while. It will be this way for another month, until the king returns.’ He glanced at Declan. ‘You should have been here in spring for the wool fair.’ Grinning, he said, ‘Traders from hundreds of miles around flock here to buy and sell massive amounts of wool! They ship it all over the continent and across the Anoke and Semalon Seas. Over the fair, the city’s population grows three or four-fold; over fifty thousand people pass through here.’
Ratigan went on to explain that it was not a single fair, but rather a series of weekly events that took place across six of the surrounding towns. Merchants moved their wares around as buyers came and went, but because most of the commerce passed through Ilagan, it was known as the Ilagan Wool Fair.
After leaving Ilagan, their journey through Ilcomen proceeded without incident. They stopped for a night at a proper inn in the town of Lovan, one of the trade centres and also quiet this time of the year. Jusan was recovering well enough that Declan acceded to Ratigan’s request to make an earlier start each day. They progressed slowly through Ilcomen until reaching the border of Marquensas.
Jusan’s youthful vigour was offset by the exertions of travelling in a freight wagon, wedged among bundles of rags and Declan’s tools and anvil. Like Roz, Ratigan and his master had been hauling fruit when the slavers assaulted them. Their cargo had long since turned and been tossed out of the wagon,
save for one bag of oranges, which Jusan used as an unforgiving pillow.
Days passed as they moved closer to the coast, and as they passed an ancient pile of stones, Ratigan said, ‘That marks the border. We are now in Marquensas.’
Declan felt a slight shudder run through him as they passed the marker. Perhaps it was his imagination, but something felt different as they entered the barony. A few hours later, he saw the landscape changing and realised that regardless of his im-agined sense, Marquensas was a very different place from Ilcomen.
Trees had appeared on the horizon and as they neared them, Declan could see further copses scattered along the roadside, but the hills rising to the east were clearly covered with forests. There was a spectacular wealth in lumber here and it appeared carefully tended. Logging roads ran down to meet the widening highway, and traders and travellers appeared with mounting frequency; a few were heading towards Ilagan, but most of them were lumber wagons heading in the same direction as they were. Because of the amount of finished lumber heading towards Marquenet, Declan assumed there must be a water-driven sawmill somewhere nearby, or a very big centre with a large number of woodcutters.
By the end of the day they had passed three villages surrounded by small farms, and these more familiar sights told Declan that it was a happy and prosperous community. The children laughed and played until sunset, rather than wearily finishing their work, which meant there was plenty of food to go around. Their clothing was well kept and none of them wore rags. The smell of food cooking on the fires made both Declan and Ratigan acknowledge their hunger and even woke Jusan up.
‘Food?’ said the young apprentice, his eyes looking bright and clear for the first time since the attack.
‘We’ll camp soon,’ said Declan. ‘Rest now.’
‘It’s hard to rest with all this bouncing around,’ complained the youth, but he soon dozed off while Declan and Ratigan shook their heads and chuckled.
King of Ashes [Book One] Page 20
