He was just calling himself ten kinds of fool when he caught sight of a light moving toward him over the water. It disappeared for a moment, obscured by the hull of some ship, then reappeared, still bobbing steadily his way with the splash of unseen oars.
A wiry, redheaded sailor scarcely older than himself brought the little craft neatly alongside the dock. Alec didn't know much of press-gangs, but this didn't have the look of one.
"You the new hand for the Grampus!" the boy inquired, shipping his oars and looking up at Alec with a brash grin. "I'm Binakel, called Biny by most. Haul in then, 'less you fancy spending the night on the jetty, which I don't. By the Old Sailor it's colder'n a cod's balls tonight!"
Alec had hardly clambered down onto the stern bench before Biny was pulling away. He talked a steady stream as he rowed, needing no prompting or encouragement as he rattled on with hardly a pause for breath. He had a tendency to jumble one topic in with another as things occurred to him, and a good deal of it was profane, but Alec managed to sift out enough to set his mind at rest by the time they drew alongside the sleek hull of the Grampus.
Captain Talrien was a good-tempered master, according to Biny, whose highest praise was that he'd never known his captain to have a man flogged.
The Grampus was a coastal trader. Carrying three triangular sails on tall masts, she could deploy twenty oars on each side when need be, and ran regularly between the port cities of Skala and Mycena.
The crew was in a fury of preparation on deck.
Alec had hoped to speak with Talrien again, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
"Your friend's down here," Biny said, leading him below.
Seregil lay asleep in a deep nest of wool bales. More bales and plump sacks of grain were packed into the long hold for as far as Alec could see by the light of Biny's lantern.
"Mind the light," Biny warned as he left. "A spark or two in this lot and we'll go up like a bonfire! Keep it on that hook over your head there, and if ever we meet with rough seas, be sure to snuff it."
"I'll be careful," Alec promised, already searching for fresh bandages. Those covering Seregil's stubborn wound were badly stained.
"Cap'n sent down food for you, and a pail of water. It's there around the other side," Biny pointed out. "You ought to speak to Sedrish tomorrow about that hurt of your friend's. Old Sedrish is as good a leech as he is a cook. Well, g'night to you!"
"Good night. And give my thanks to the captain."
The bandage lint had stuck to Seregil's wound and Alec carefully soaked it loose, lifting aside the stained pad to find the raw spot looking worse than ever. There was no evidence that the old woman's salve was doing any good, but Alec applied it anyway, not knowing what else to do.
Seregil's slender body had quickly failed to gauntness. He felt fragile in Alec's hands as he lifted him to wrap the fresh bandage. His breathing was less even, too, and now and then caught painfully in his chest.
Laying him back against the bales, Alec brushed a few lank strands of hair back from Seregil's face, taking in the deepening hollows in his cheeks and at his temples, the pallid whiteness of his skin. A few short days would bring them to Rhнminee and Nysander, if only Seregil could survive that long.
Warming the last of the milk over the lantern, Alec cradled Seregil's head on his knee and tried to spoon some into him. But Seregil choked weakly, spilling a mouthful down his cheek.
With a heavy heart Alec set the cup aside and stretched out beside him, wiping Seregil's cheek with a corner of his cloak before pulling it over both of them.
"At least we made it to a ship," he whispered sadly, listening to the labored breathing beside him.
Exhaustion rolled over him like a grey mist and he slept.
— a stony plain beneath a lowering leaden sky stretched around Seregil on all sides. Dead, grey grass under his feet. Sound of the sea in the distance? No breeze stirred to make the faint rushingsound. Lightning flashed in the distance but no rumble of thunder followed it. Clouds scudded quickly by overhead.
He had no sense of his body at all, only of his surroundings, as if his entire being had been reduced to the pure essence of sight. Yet he could move, look about at the grey plain, the moving mass of clouds overhead that roiled and churned but showed no break of blue. He could still hear the sea, though he could not tell its direction. He wanted to go there, to see beyond the monotonythat surrounded him, but how? He might well take the wrong direction, moving away from it, deeper into the plain. The thought froze him in place. Somehow he knew that the plain went on forever if you went away from the sea.
He knew now that he was dead and that only through Bilairy's gate could he escape into the trueafterlife or perhaps out of any existence at all. To be trapped for eternity on this lifeless plain wasunthinkable.
"O Illior Lightbringer," he silently prayed, "shed your light in this desolate place. What am I todo?" But nothing changed. He wept and even his weeping made no sound in the emptiness.
13 Inquiries Are Made
"Oh, yes, they was here all right. I'm not soon likely to forget them!" the innkeeper declared, sizing up the two gentlemen. The sallow one would try and stare it out of him, but the comely, dark— complected gentleman with the scar under his eye looked to be a man who understood the value of information.
Sure enough, the dark one reached into his fine purse and laid a thick double tree coin on the rough counter between them.
"If you would be so good as to answer a few questions, I would be very grateful." Another of the heavy rectangular coins joined the first. "These young men were servants of mine. I'm most anxious to find them."
"Stole something, did they?"
"It's a rather delicate matter," the gentleman replied.
"Well, you've missed 'em by nigh onto a week, I'm sorry to say. They was a bad sort, I thought, when first I laid eyes on 'em. Ain't that so, Mother?"
"Oh, aye," his wife assured them, eyeing the strangers over her husband's shoulder. "Never should have taken them in, I said after, empty rooms or no."
"And she was right. The yellow-haired one tried to murder the other in the night. I locked me'self and the family in the storeroom after I caught 'em at it. In the morning they was both gone. Don't know whether the sickly fellow was living or dead in the end."
The innkeeper reached for the coins but the dark man placed a gloved fingertip on each of them.
"Did you, by chance, observe the direction they took?"
"No, sir. Like I said, we stayed in the storeroom 'til we was certain they was gone."
"That's a pity," the man murmured, relinquishing the coins. "Perhaps you would be so good as to show us the rooms in which they stayed?"
"As you like," the innkeeper said doubtfully, leading them up the stairs. "But they didn't leave nothin".
I had a good look 'round right after. It was damned odd, that boy wanting the key to the outside of the other's door. Locked him in, I guess, then took after him in the dead of night. Oh, you should have heard the noise! Thumpin" and caterwauling—Here we are, sirs, this is where it happened."
The innkeeper stood aside as the two men glanced around the cramped rooms.
"Where was the fight?" the pale one asked. His manner was not so obliging as that of his companion, the innkeeper noted, and he had a funny sort of accent when he spoke.
"This here," he told him. "You can still see a few dibs of blood on the floor, just there by your foot."
Exchanging a quick look with his companion, the dark man drew the innkeeper back toward the stairs.
"You must allow us a few moments to satisfy our curiosity. In the meantime, perhaps you would be so kind as to carry ale and meat to my servants in the yard?"
Presented with the opportunity for further profit, the innkeeper hustled back downstairs.
Mardus waited until the innkeeper was out of earshot, then nodded for Vargыl Ashnazai to begin.
The necromancer dropped to his knees and took out a tiny knife. Scraping
at the spots of dried blood scattered over the rough boards, he carefully tapped the shavings into an ivory vial and sealed it. His thin lips curved into an unpleasant semblance of a smile as he held the vial up between thumb and forefinger.
"We have them, Lord Mardus!" he gloated, lapsing into the Old Tongue. "Even if he no longer wears it, with this we shall track them down."
" If they are indeed those whom we seek," Mardus replied in the same language. In this instance, the necromancer was probably correct in his assumptions, but as usual, Mardus made no effort to encourage him.
They all had their roles to play.
With Vargыl Ashnazai trailing dourly behind him, Mardus returned downstairs and gave the innkeeper and his wife an eloquent shrug.
"As you said, there is nothing to be found," he told them, as if abashed. "However, there is one last point."
"And what would that be, sir?" asked the innkeeper, clearly hoping for another lucrative opportunity.
"You said they fought." Mardus toyed with his purse strings. "I am curious as to the cause. Have you any idea?"
"Well," replied the innkeeper, "as I said, they was at it hammer and tongs before I got up there at all. Time I got the lamp lit and found my cudgel, the young one already had the other fellow laid out. Still, just from what I saw looking in, it 'peared to me they was fighting over some manner of necklace."
"A necklace?" exclaimed Vargыl Ashnazai.
"Oh, it was a paltry-looking thing, weren't it?" the wife chimed in. "Nothing to kill a fellow over!"
"That's right," her husband said in disgust. "Just a bit of wood, 'bout the size of a five-penny piece, strung on some leather lacing. Had some carving done on it, as I remember, but still it didn't look like anything more than some frippery a peddler would carry."
Mardus offered the man a bemused smile. "Well, they were a bad pair, just as you say, and I suppose I'm well rid of them. Many thanks."
Tossing a final coin to the innkeeper, he went out to the yard where his men stood ready.
"Have you any doubts now, my lord?" Ashnazai whispered, trembling with suppressed rage.
"It seems they've eluded us once again," Mardus mused, tapping a gloved finger thoughtfully against his chin.
"He should have been dead a week ago! No one could survive—"
Mardus smiled thinly. "Come now, Vargыl Ashnazai, even you must see that these are no ordinary thieves we are pursuing."
Casting an approving eye over the empty country surrounding the crossroads inn, he turned to the group of armed men. "Captain Tildus!"
"Sir?"
Mardus inclined his head slightly toward the inn. "Kill everyone, then burn it."
14 Sailing South
Alec felt like cheering aloud as the mainland slipped under the horizon their first day out. The sheer emptiness that surrounded the ship—the endless sky, the biting cold of the wind, and frozen spume thrown up by the prow as the Grampus raced gaily along under full-bellied sails—all this seemed to cleanse him down to the bone.
He worked hard, to be sure. The sailors relegated him to the lowliest tasks, not out of any meanness but because he would not be with the ship long enough to be worth training. Though his hand was still sore and both hands were soon cracked from the salt and cold, he worked with a good will at any task he was assigned: sanding decks, hauling slops, and helping in the scullery. Whenever he could find a free moment, he went below to tend to Seregil.
Despite Alec's diligent care, however, his companion was clearly failing. The infection was spreading across Seregil's thin chest, and hectic fever spots bloomed over his cheekbones, giving his face its only color. A sickly odor clung about him.
Sedrish, the ship's cook and surgeon, gave Alec what help he could, but none of his remedies seemed to have any effect.
"At least you can still get something into him," Sedrish observed, watching Alec patiently coax a sip of broth between Seregil's cracked lips. "There's hope so long as he'll drink."
Alec was working his way through a tangled pile of rope their third day out when the captain happened by.
The weather was holding fair and Talrien appeared to be in a high good humor.
"It's too bad you're leaving us at Rhнminee. I believe we could make a pretty passable sailor of you," he remarked, bracing easily against the rail. "Most inlanders spend their first voyage heaving their guts over the side."
"No problems that way," Alec replied, brightening up a bit. "Just some trouble finding what Biny calls my 'sea legs.»
"I noticed. That first day when the swells were heavy you rolled around like a keg in the bilge. When you set foot on land again, it'll be just as bad for a bit. That's why sailors always head straight for the taverns,
you know. You sit and drink long enough, and pretty soon you feel like you're back on the rolling deep. Makes us feel more at home."
Just then a cry came down from the masthead. "Land sighted, Captain!"
"We've made good time," Talrien said, shading his eyes as he looked across the water. "See that dark line on the horizon? That's the isthmus. By tomorrow morning you'll see one of the great wonders of the world."
Alec woke feeling queasy the next morning. The motion of the ship felt different, and he couldn't hear waves against the hull.
"Hey, Aren," called Biny, sticking his head down the hatchway. "Come above if you want to see something."
On deck, Alec found they were riding at anchor in a narrow harbor. A crowd had gathered at the rail.
"What do you think of that?" Biny asked proudly.
A thin mist steamed up from the surface of the sea. The first rose-gold light of dawn shone through it, bathing the scene before them in a layer of pale, shifting fire.
Sheltering cliffs soared up out of the mists on either side of the harbor. At its head lay Cirna, a jumbled collection of square, white-plastered buildings that clung like swallow's nests to the steep slopes above the jetties.
Catching sight of him, Talrien waved an arm.
"That's one of the oldest cities in Skala. Ships were putting in here before Ero was built. You can see the mouth of the Canal over there, to the left."
Looking across the water, Alec saw that a huge channel had been cut through the cliffs at the head of the bay. Flanking the mouth of it were enormous pillars carved in relief. Each reached five hundred feet or more from the waterline to the top of the cliff and was surmounted by an elaborate capital. At this early hour, flames and black smoke still issued from the huge oil flares that topped them.
"How would you make anything that big?"
Alec exclaimed, trying to grasp the scale of what he was seeing.
"Magic, of course," scoffed Biny.
"And hard work," Talrien added. "Queen Tamir the Second built it when she founded Rhнminee. They say it took a hundred wizards and a thousand workmen two years to build the Canal. Of course, that was back in the old days, when there were enough magicians about to be spared for such labor. It's five miles from end to end, but less than three hundred feet wide. And those beacons, atop the pillars there? You can see them for miles. We steered in by them last night." Turning, he waved a hand at the gathered crew. "Come on, you lot! We've got work to do."
The Grampus carried cargo for Cirna, and they put in alongside one of the docks that jutted out from the shore. Alec saw to it that Seregil was moved to an out-of-the-way nook in the hold, then went above to watch the bustling activity on shore. At closer range he could see that the tops of the great pillars were not alike. The one on the left was carved in the form of a fish emerging from a wave. Even from across the harbor he could make out the scales on its sides, the graceful curve of the fins. The capital on the right appeared to be a stylized flame.
"Why are they different?" he asked Sedrish, shading his eyes.
"Those are the pillars of Astellus and Sakor, of course," the cook replied as if amazed at his ignorance. "Illior and Dalna are at the other end. They say those old builders figured if they were going to mu
ck up the natural lay of the land so, they'd better tip their caps to the gods when they got all done."
Talrien stood at the top of the gangplank with one of the sailors, calling out cargo numbers for the man to record in the log. On the dock below, the various merchants to whom the cargo belonged kept similar track.
Alec studied them with interest. Instead of tunics, they wore long belted coats that reached below the knee and leather breeches like those that Seregil favored.
Many wore broad-brimmed hats with a long colorful feather or two stuck at an angle in the band.
Another vessel was unloading at a neighboring wharf; a single glimpse of their cargo was enough to draw Alec down for a closer look. Ducking through a throng of sailors and dock hands, he joined the crowd gathering around a makeshift corral that had been roped off for the horses that were being led ashore.
He'd seen plenty of horses in his life, but never the match of these.
These creatures were as tall as the black mare he'd left behind in Wolde, but not so heavily made. Their legs were long, tapering from rounded haunches to dainty hooves, and they bore their proud heads on well-arched necks. Their coats and manes had none of the rough shagginess Alec was accustomed to, but shone in the morning sun as if they'd been polished.
Despite the commotion around them, the animals showed no skittishness as they milled about. Most were bays, with a few chestnuts and blacks mixed in. The one that immediately caught Alec's fancy, however, was a glossy black stallion with a white mane and tail.
"They're something, ain't they?" Biny remarked, appearing at his elbow.
"They are that," Alec agreed. "I've never seen anything like them!"
"I shouldn't think so. Them's Aurлnen horses, just come up from the south."
Luck in the Shadows n-1 Page 17
