A Conversation Overheard
Jeffrey Morrow Miller
The following is a work of fiction.
Copyright by Jeffrey Morrow Miller.
All rights are reserved by the author.
Cover art by the author.
First Edition : September 2013
ISBN: 9781301322237
A Conversation Overheard
Being the opening chapters of volume one of the
first of The Five Books of Time
DOOR
Vol 1: The Binding Returned
Vol 2: The World Revealed
Vol 3: The Goddess Reborn
Vol 4: The Union Rejected
KEY
Vol 1: The Mastery Of Magic
NIGHTMARE
Vol 1: The Ending War
CLEANSING
Vol 1: The Period of Prophecy
BIRTH
Vol 1: The Time of Testing
Jeffrey Morrow Miller
www.jeffreymorrowmiller.com
The five-fold Doors
may be gained
through the Path of Water
by the man without form
through the Path of Life
by the man of compassionate heart
through the Path of Fire
by the man of courageous will
through the Path of Earth
by the man who assumes the burden
through the Path of Air
by the man who sees the vision
or through the Binding of the World and Underworld
by the Man of All Paths
Riversea, 1016-1017
A Prayer
Burn,
Candle white,
Flame red.
Light our lives,
Past to present.
Give us our future.
1A conversation overheard
"Have you ever wondered what lies beyond?"
Hamish knocked the creamy heads off of a line of Brown Ales. With an effort to appear friendly he replied to Navarra, “No, don't reckon I have. At least not since this time last year when you asked the same question.” The Guide of the Covenant had arrived the night before with the news that the Islander Fleet had been sighted passing Haps.
“Perhaps you should have been thinking upon it since then.”
“What with brewing all day, and serving all night, I'm a mite too busy for that sort of thing,” Hamish replied. He then scooped up his load and hurried them to the table where Groggin, the Master of the Beggin Inn, was warmly welcoming Captain Grey of the Islander ship that had just arrived. Ducking an expansively waved arm, Hamish successfully set the drinks on the table and received a clout on the ear.
“Damn you! Boy, look where you’re going!” Master Groggin shouted. “That’s no way to serve our guest! And get food!”
Hamish gave a quick bow to the Captain, and then headed back to the counter for second part of his load, leaving the Captain about to say something.
“Damn that boy, he’s no manners,” Groggin said. “Drink up. Get the salt out o’ your gobs.”
At the counter Hamish saw the Guide turn and call out to one of the Islanders who was sitting by himself. "Hello there. My name's Navarra. You from around here?"
The young, blond-haired man looked a bit stunned. “No ...”
“Me neither,” the Guide said as he shifted his bag and joined the Islander. “Boy! More drink for me and my friend.”
The odors of three successful fishermen preceded them through the inner, summer doors of the inn. “And that, my blind friend, is the good Captain Grey of King Rane d’Nor. You lose. Hamish! Boy, the wager was an evening. Don’t let the tide go out on us, hear?”
“Good evening Salter, Saltson,” Hamish said. Turning to the quiet one who had lost the wager he asked, “Netter, how was your catch today?”
“Fair.”
“Fair enough?”
“Don’t be shy, Netter,” Salter said. “I feel a great thirst coming on.”
“You’d best claim a bench, it’s going to fill tonight,” Hamish said. He then added to Netter, “If you could give me a bit of help I’ll open you a new barrel.”
In the tap room behind the counter Netter said, “The missus will be going to market in the morning ...”
“The last time she came around she made me promise - no more credit.”
“Damn that woman.”
“And she hit me,” Hamish added. “Many times.”
“Aye, she’s wont to...”
The two looked at each other while Hamish prepared to drive the tap home. Hamish then said with a smile, “I’ll make sure you bring a pot home for her this time, she’s a fine woman.”
“You’re a good lad, Hamish.”
“How did you mistake the ship?”
“She’s flying the standard of the High King of C’Holm.”
“Maybe Captain Grey has a new master. That would save you some Coppers.”
“Damn me. That’s it. We’ll see who’s the fool then. Give me those pots and don’t put us on the beach.”
Over the noise of Groggin telling of one of the new girls to be found next door, Hamish heard voices at the back entrance raised in anger and alarm. Taking the short staff from its place under the counter, he quietly slipped down the hall past the toilets, hoping Groggin wouldn’t notice the untended taps.
Two men watched while a third held a heap of rags against the wall with one hand. The third man was pulling at the belt around the middle of the rags. From the darkness Hamish launched a solid blow to the pickpocket's shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Turning to the other two, he stood on the fallen man's hand as it reached for a knife.
“Damn you, Hamish,” the man on the ground said. “I’ll kill you.”
Hamish ignored the threat and watched the other two follow the motion of his staff. “Go inside,” he said to the old woman inside the rags, and then stepped back, freeing the hand that still held the knife.
“You bastard!” the fallen man snarled as he rose to his feet, holding his knife out in front of his body.
“Watch his stick, Rufie!” one of his retreating friends called.
“You’re a coward, boy,” the knife-waving Rufus said. “You’d be not so brave without a stick. I’ll take you man to man.”
Hamish stopped his stick, and pushed the tip into Rufus’ throat. “I don’t play with blades. Someone must die with blades. Are you as willing as I?”
Rufus hesitated, and Hamish pushed harder on his stick, “I’ve already died once, Rufus. Ready to join me?”
Rufus backed away muttering, “You’re a crazy bastard.”
Hamish prepared to follow, but the old woman put a hand on his arm. Hamish could only shout at the retreating trio, “Go back to Newton! Fisher doesn’t want you!”
Only when the three were out of sight did the old woman let free of Hamish’s arm. She then asked, “Has Falkyr, the son of the High King Ghent t’Fhar of C’Holm, arrived?”
It took a moment for the question to register, and then Hamish responded, “Is everything all right? Are you hurt?”
“No matter. It is Falkyr Fhar’son I would seek.”
“Well, there is a new face among the crew of Captain Grey this year, but I have not been given an introduction. Come inside and sit by the fire. I’ll get you something.”
“Did your master send you out?”
“I am afraid that he is rather too busy right now to watch the back door.”
“It doesn’t make a profit perhaps?”
“He sometimes thinks only in the short-term,” Hamish said as he held open the door. “Please c
ome in.”
“No beggars in my inn, boy.” Groggin shouted from across the room.
“I believe she has coins, good Master. I just found Rufus in the back alley.”
“I told you to keep that one away from here, boy,” Groggin continued to shout as Hamish went into the adjacent dining room to collect a proper chair. “I only took you on to keep the trash away from my doors, so do your job! And see the color of her coins first. I won’t be providing for no beggars. You hear me, boy?”
“Yes, Master,” Hamish said. He then continued in a lower voice to the old woman, “Sit here next to the fire. My Master is too good for a rick of Globes. Of course he doesn’t clean up the mess in the morning.”
“I couldn’t ...”
Hamish pointed to the extravagance of burning logs better suited to be used in the building of furniture, “It’s the pride of the Inn. Someone might as well enjoy the money burning. Now what can I get for you? I’ve just tapped a rather good brown ale, but the mild is perhaps...”
“Your Master is right, I have no coins...”
“Not so loud,” Hamish whispered. “Do you know of the Magic of the Water?”
“Do I what?” the old woman said sharply, staring hard at Hamish.
“A little service over here, boy!” several people shouted at the same time.
He turned to leave, but his hand was held tight in a cold grip. Hamish pointed to the tattoo of four blue waves on the back of her hand, “The Magic of the Water.”
“You know of this?” she asked.
“Boy! I’m in a desert over here,” someone shouted.
“Don’t make me get up,” Groggin added.
“I saw it in a book once,” Hamish said.
The old lady laughed, “So, someone translated the lies of Santos a’Mann.”
“If you could excuse my boy,” Groggin interrupted. Taking a firm hold of that part of Hamish he could reach - the back of his pants, “I would have a word with him.”
Before Groggin continued, Hamish produced a Copper. Being a head and shoulders taller than everyone else allowed Hamish to brace his head against a ceiling beam, preventing Groggin from dragging him back behind the counter.
“Well …” Groggin said, “see that she doesn’t block up the fire all night. She smells like a wet bog.”
“A wet dog?”
“That’s what I said. And see those?”
“Dark Forest People,” Hamish said, “They have not come in several years.”
“And Fisher is better for it.”
“But you trade with them,” Hamish said before he remembered some things were not to be mentioned. He didn’t receive the expected blow because Groggin was too busy trying to not see the Tribals. Hamish decided, “We should at least offer them a drink.”
“They need the door. Do you think you could get one of the girls to help with serving?”
“I’ll ask, but I doubt it.”
“I’ll pay for her time.”
“The whole evening?”
“Would they have it any other way? See that those Tribals don’t cause any trouble.”
“Trouble? More likely they’ll disappear before I can serve them. Let me have Captain Grey offer them something.”
“You better be fast about it, boy. There goes the captain to speak with them.”
But five of the High Mayor's Guards entered and loudly hailed Hamish. Hamish didn’t need Groggin’s order to settle the Guards first. He gave their chosen table a few, unnecessary, flicks with the towel from his belt. “Good evening, gentlemen. The World is a safer place with your presence.”
“I know that,” the Watchleader snapped, protecting his face from Hamish’s towel. “Now bring us beer.”
“You know the rule, good sirs; no Coppers, no courage.”
“A Copper?” one sputtered. “In Newton me mate only charges a Second.”
“He’d be robbing you then,” Hamish said. “I’ll give you a pot full of piss for free.”
The Watchleader produced three Coppers. “You boys will owe me.”
Only a Guard would be too dumb to remember the price of beer was a Copper per pot. It always had been, and according to the Guild, it always would be. Although Groggin might give friends a matching pot on the house, everyone paid full price when they paid.
“Do you want to share your pots, or do you want to be served in half-pots?” Hamish asked. The whole room seemed to hear his question, and quieted to hear the answer. Only women ever asked for a half-pot.
“We don’t get paid until tomorrow,” the Watchleader snarled.
“Ah ... that means you’re on duty tonight,” Hamish decided. “You’d better stick to half-pots. I heard your Captain say he’d caught some of you drunk on duty. I wouldn’t want to compromise the security of Riversea.” He saw that Groggin was scowling at him, so he left off and went to fetch the beer.
As he passed the loud Kingdomer Guide and the quiet Islander, Hamish heard Navarra ask, “Prince Fhar’son, is it true there are no trees in C’Holm?”
“There are trees,” the blond man said. His Common Tongue was thickly accented, and he took his time constructing his words.
“But not for burning?”
“No, we make ... use ... use the Globes for light and heat. Trees be for shipbuilding.”
“That must make C’Holm very dependent on the success of its Captains,” Navarra said.
Hamish paused to hear the reply, but it came from behind him, “Or the rest of the World very dependent upon us.”
“Oh, excuse me Captain Grey,” Hamish said, wiping up his spill.
“There seems to be a lack of beer here, boy,” Captain Grey said. “So don’t be spilling it.”
“The Dark Forest People?” Hamish asked. He saw their table was occupied by a group of Fisherton lads.
“They’ve gone.”
“‘Gone? I mean ... will they be back? Tonight?”
“Next year.”
“How did they know you’d be here? You’re a month early this year.”
“We had a special cargo this year.”
“We had no warning. The Houses haven’t prepared your welcome, yet the Dark Forest People knew.”
“Amazing, aren’t they.”
“What did they want?”
“You’ve been in Fisher long enough, boy,” Captain Grey said as a way of warning him off the subject.
“I wish I’d spoken to them,” Hamish said. “There should still be something we could trade with them.”
“It would seem you Highlanders always pay a better price,” Captain Grey said. Hamish knew that since Captain Grey was kin, he was by blood as much of a Highlander as he was. He also remembered that Captain Grey didn’t much like him or his side of the family.
“I thank you for greeting them,” Hamish said as he handed the Captain a drink for each hand. “I wish they had been able to stay longer.”
“They wish they could have stayed. They were honored to know you care about the wood of your casks.”
Hamish didn’t reply for a moment. “May I ask a question, sir?”
“By all means,” Captain Grey said after draining his first drink, “if I could ask a favor of you in turn.”
“A favor?”
“Your question?”
“A friend of mine was curious about the flag on your ship.”
“That of the High King?”
“Yes. I was under the impression you were the Captain for King Rane d’Nor.”
“I am. But on this voyage I had two cargoes ...”
“And served two Kings?” Hamish interrupted. “My friend will enjoy this.”
Hamish turned to fill a line of empty pots, and Captain Grey caught his arm. “Before you go, the favor?”
“Forgive me, Captain. How may I help you?”
“I would like to speak with your Ambassador while I’m h
ere this season.”
“My Ambassador ... ?” Hamish began.
“You know who I mean,” Captain Grey snapped. “Would that be difficult? With Houses unprepared for our arrival, I will be in port longer than usual.”
“I am sure the Ambassador would be honored to receive you,” Hamish said. “Is there ... any special reason?”
“I will explain to the Ambassador.”
“I am sure Ion will be interested in your words, Captain Grey,” Hamish said. “I will visit him first thing tomorrow morning.”
Hamish served the Guards without further incident, as well as the Fisherton lads who asked if he could introduce them to some of the Islanders. Then, with Groggin actually pulling the tap, he slipped down the passage to the adjoining building. At the foot of the stairs leading to the upper floors he was stopped by the two women he’d hoped to avoid.
“A bit early aren’t we, lover?” the first asked.
“You think the Princess is going to be that busy, do you?” the second added. “Want to get in first do you?”
“Actually, I was going to ask if either of you wanted to...?” Hamish started.
“You won’t be pimping us!”
“We’re not like her Highness.”
“No, it’s not that,” Hamish said. “Groggin asked me to get some help serving.”
Hamish received a stinging slap. And then another, since they were both insulted.
“Tell him to show some respect.”
“If you want a servant, ask your Princess.”
“I will,” Hamish said and attempted to escape upstairs.
“Don’t be going where you’re not invited,” the first one called.
“Unless you got some business for her,” the second one added, and they both broke into laughter at such a witty remark. At the door of the best room on the second floor Hamish knocked.
“I’m dressing. You cannot come in.”
“Prudence?”
The door opened a crack. “I mean it, Hamish.”
“Groggin offered to pay for the evening if you would help serve.”
She burst out laughing, “He couldn’t afford me. And I wouldn’t be a servant for twice the money. With all the Islanders arriving, I doubt if even the Beasts would be so desperate.”
“They assured me they weren’t,” Hamish said rubbing his cheek.
“Are you going to Castleton tomorrow?”
“Early.”
“Could you deliver this for me?” But Hamish pushed open the door and entered quickly before she could hand out the bag of coins.
“Hamish! Get out of here!”
“They think I’m pimping you.”
Prudence slapped him.
“If they saw you handing me coins ...”
“I’ll kill them...”
“You’d be doing them a kindness,” Hamish said as he rubbed his cheek.
She stood in her underclothes, shaking with rage, as the room was far from cold.
“Your room is very nice,” Hamish said, taking a quick look around.
“Don’t touch me!”
“I’ll go to the moneylender for you.”
“And have the whole world think I give you my money?”
“He doesn’t ask questions of those lodging money with him, just of those borrowing.”
She threw the bag of coins at his chest, “I hate being a woman, and I hate you even more. Bring me the receipt. Now get out!”
“It’s about time you got back, boy.” Groggin said. “No one takes that long at a piss.”
“I went next door ...”
“Couldn’t wait until after work?” Salter asked.
“He’s a healthy one,” Saltson added.
“All of them took the offer of working here tonight as a personal insult. Even the two Beasts with the pox had a go at me.”
“You say ‘pox’?” Netter asked.
“That’s the word ...”
“All of them too proud to serve a drink?” Groggin asked.
“To put it mildly,” Hamish answered.
“Well, see that you don’t have such airs,” Groggin decided. “We’ve a room full of thirsty men here, and I need to put my feet up for a minute.”
“It was the Highlanders, under King Granit, who first sent out Ambassadors,” Navarra was saying to the room in general, while watching the quiet Islander. Like many Islanders, Hamish noticed the son of the High King had shoulder-length blond hair, striking blue eyes, and an arrestingly handsome face. Navarra, who continued to speak, was clearly from the Kingdoms with his dark skin. He probably tried to keep both his head and face shaved following the rules of his religion. “He sent out his son to the Empires to open the path to peace and trade.”
“Are you sure?” Captain Grey asked gently, and then snarled while looking directly at Hamish. “I always thought it was that bastard nephew of his, Gereham the King Breaker.”
“Whoever gets the credit,” Navarra said, “you must admit it was a most politically astute move.” Turning to Hamish, who was trying to make his way to the kitchen, Navarra asked, “From your coloring I would guess you are a Highlander. What do you know of the Ambassadors of King Granit?”
“You know what I know, Guide Navarra,” Hamish said. “And I expect everyone here knows their history lessons as well.”
“I would ask you to tell us of the history of the Ambassadors of the Highlands,” Navarra said.
“The history of the Highlands is for Highlanders.” Hamish said, looking at Captain Grey. “There are no Highlanders here tonight. Who did what to whom, and why they did it, was generations ago.”
“Are you saying it wasn’t exile?” Captain Grey asked, getting to his feet.
“I’m just saying the fate of those no longer in their lands is whatever they make of it,” Hamish said. Captain Grey was nowhere near as tall as Hamish, but Hamish had a lot of filling in to do before he approached the Captain's build. Falkyr also rose to his feet and placed himself between Hamish and Captain Grey.
“That is exactly what I was saying,” Navarra quickly said. “It is best to leave the past to the stories of history. Today is what is important, and what we can make of tomorrow. Sit, gentlemen, sit. You are blocking the fire. Let us just agree that the peaceful contact between all people is a benefit to all people. Talking is what is important. I was merely pointing out that the exchange of friendly Ambassadors between nations can only help with the flow of words and the easing of tensions. It is a role that could, perhaps, be developed between other countries than the Highlands and its neighbors.”
There was no comment from either Captain Grey or Hamish.
“Of course the etiquette of these things is always most delicate,” Navarra continued without noticing. “Exiled pretenders to thrones are normally threatening. But where the exile is voluntary ... a mutually beneficial and individually fulfilling role could be developed. The High Mayor’s own son now serves in my land as ...”
“This ain’t Riversea,” Groggin said slapping the table hard. “That one is not to be mentioned here. Nor are the names of his bastards.”
“I was only saying ...”
“You are talking of things you know nothing about,” Captain Grey said. “And remember, friend, we have only been ashore a few hours. We have better things to do than fighting - like drinking, and eating.”
“Well said, good Captain,” Groggin cheered. Turning to Hamish he added, “ Didn’t I send you for some food?”
In the kitchen, Bottle, who made sure everyone knew she was not Groggin’s wife, was in a foul mood. “How could they be so rude? No one is prepared for them. And this year was to be so special. Riversea has not hosted the son of a High King … since forever. Damn that Groggin! Doesn’t he ever clean this kitchen? Has he no flour?”
“I’ll get some from the cellar,” Hamish volunteered. It was safer than sug
gesting to Bottle that Groggin was in a hurry.
“Do that, Hamish, for you know I won’t go down there. And find that daughter of mine. She is supposed to be bringing me apples. If I find her anywhere near those sailors I will have your ears, Hamish.”
“Groggin would have her serving first.”
She held up a cleaver and said, “Don’t even think about it.”
“Say, boy,” one of the Islanders said, grabbing Hamish’s arm as he quickly served a drink before visiting the cellar. “Might there be a chance of a lonely lad far away from home finding a bit of company around here?”
“Yes, boy, tell us of that new trollop next door,” Salter burst in.
“A right connoisseur of femininity, our boy here.” Saltson added.
“The finest ladies in Fisher be found next door,” Netter said.
“Excepting your missus,” Salter said, and they all burst out laughing at Netter’s expense.
“That’s just because there ain’t not ladies in Fisher,” one of the group of Guards said, without much of a smile. “You be wanting to go into Newton,”
“Only if you want to take home the pox,” Salter responded.
“If you have the coin, I reckon next door is the go,” Hamish said, overruling the Guard’s retort.
“And how is that little blond of yours?” Salter asked again.
“Now she is one fine looker,” Saltson said .
“Too fine looking for my taste,” Netter said. “Won’t even give you a word on the street, that one.”
“She’s been giving our boy a bit more than that out in the dunes I hear,” Salter said. “Is there a luckier lad in the world, I ask you? Living next to heaven, he is.”
“Without a coin it’s more like living in hell,” Hamish muttered, and the whole group burst out laughing.
“Told you,” Salter said. “Turned redder than his hair he has.”
“So the boy is sweet on our pretty princess?” Netter asked.
“The boy ain’t sweet on nothing,” Groggin said on his way to pee. “Whores is whores, and they ain’t for marrying.”
The Guards broke into laughter, but others didn’t join them. Netter said, “He’s right, Hamish.”
“I never said...”
“You’d better stick to your own kind,” one of the Guards offered.
“You need a girl with resources, boy,” Salter said. “Someone that can set you up in a place. You marry a whore and the money stops coming in.”
“Hamish!” Groggin said from the door to the back.
“Yes?”
Hamish approached his master and had his head pulled down to Groggin’s level by the front of his shirt, “Don’t be serving those Guards no more,” Groggin whispered fiercely. “I won’t be having them smash the place again.”
“I don’t think...” and Hamish’s ear rang from Groggin’s fist.
“I think. You do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hey, more beer!” one of the Guards shouted. “And no more of your swill, Groggin. We want the boy’s beer.”
“You bastards...” Groggin began.
“... can’t have any more of my Master’s product.” Hamish finished, stepping in front of Groggin. “But I will be generous with my product if you can find your way to the door. Here, have a pot each for the road. Mind you return the pots in the morning.”
After the door closed on the sullen and bewildered Guards, Groggin turned on Hamish, “Are you stupid? You’ll be paying for that, and the pots. I won’t be given’ drink away for free.”
“It got them out of here without a fight.”
“There were only three of them.”
“The other two can’t be far away. There is only one of me. Anyway, they are our best customers, and now they’ll be back. Or maybe Fisherton will give them a room for the night.”
Groggin gave Hamish a hearty laugh, “Damn boy, you are sly. I need to pee.”
“What’s this?” Navarra asked.
“There’ll be no public drinking in Fisherton,” said Salter.
“Now that sounds unnatural,” Navarra said.
“A longtime back Fisher had a problem...” Hamish said.
“We’ve our own charter,” Netter said.
“Which used to mean every sin Riversea wouldn’t allow, they dumped on us,” Saltson expanded.
“But then came the slaving...” Netter said.
“... And we fought them,” finished Salter.
“And Fisherton got cleaned up, so womenfolk could live here,” Salton said.
“Mite too clean,” Salter grumbled.
“Which is why the Beggin Inn is here outside the town wall,” concluded Hamish.
“Close enough for a lad to wet his whistle...”
“... And then get a lady to whistle his wet.”
“Which brings me back to my question,” said one of the Islanders. “If a lonely lad wasn’t well endowed with coin...”
“Then he’d be just as lonely here as back home,” said another Islander.
“Unless he had red hair...” said Salter.
“... And a bed of soft sand,” finished Saltson.
“We just talked!” Hamish shouted above the din.
“Spare us...”
Hamish set a beer down violently, “We just talked!”
“I believe the boy,” Netter said, since it was his beer now half on the table. “Our Hamish is not a clot like you’se two.”
“He’s a marvel, he is,” said Groggin on his way back in. “And he ain’t sweet on Miss Prudence any more than he was on Virginia, or Chastity, or that other one last year. The one with the short dark hair...”
“Meadow,” Hamish said, and again turned red as the room filled with laughter at his expense.
“So leave him be,” Groggin said, wiping his eyes from the belly laugh. “He’s got customers to serve.”
But before Hamish could be pushed back behind the counter he said to the Islander, “Try the market in Riverseaton tomorrow. The country girls coming to town - it always works for me.”
And the room again filled with laughter, and Groggin’s curses. “Damn that boy! It’s the girls next door you want.”
“But before you damn him, Innkeeper, have him bring a round for the house, on me,” Navarra said as he threw a bag of coins to Hamish. “I ask everyone to drink to all the lonely lads from far lands. May they find their future on the morrow!”
“Aye,” the room shouted in unison.
Hamish filled the mugs of Navarra and Falkyr first, and then caught snatches of their conversation as everyone suddenly found their mugs empty and formed a queue for a refill.
“Well Falkyr, if I may be so informal, shall we drink to a new era of dialog between our two countries?”
The blond Islander struggled to get his well-oiled tongue around the Common, and after starting his reply in Islander, managed to get out, “No, it be not right. I can not speak for C’Holm.”
“You could if you asked for the right to,” Hamish said quietly. “All that you cannot do is inherit your father’s title, or reside in C’Holm as a man. You are not forbidden from serving C’Holm. You could be a great asset to the land of your birth, as others in similar positions to you have been. Think about the possibility.”
“Yes, your Highness,” Captain Grey suddenly said. “Do not make the mistakes I’ve made. You’ve known all your young life this was going to happen. There is nothing to be bitter about, or hold against your father or the land I am sure you still love. As the boy said, all the Codes hold you to is leaving C’Holm. You can make anything you want of your life.”
“Yes, there is plenty of time.” Navarra continued. “Decisions don’t have to happen tonight. You could return to the Kingdoms with me before winter and see if you like the place, and then if both your High King and my Nightlord find you suitable, something forma
l could be arranged. It would take time, many years. The Nightlord moves very slowly on these things. It might not even happen in your lifetime.”
“It be ... making forward of me...” Falkyr struggled to say as the whole room quieted to hear him speak.
“It is an opportunity to create yourself,” Hamish said. “Not many people have that freedom. You are probably the only man in the World who bears the burden of complete freedom from his ancestors and their expectations. Your future is too frightening for most of us. You are exiled and separated from your home by an impassable ocean as well as your honor. You won’t have a family around you like the Ambassadors from the Highlands did. Even though they may not have liked each other, the Highlanders were never completely on their own and were always there for each other.”
“I guess you’d know more about that than me,” Captain Grey said.
“It can be hard living in a foreign land,” Hamish continued, “especially when things go badly for you. But you should know that even here you are not without friends.”
“In that the boy does speak the truth,” Captain Grey said to Falkyr. “You will never be without friends. And those who would pretend to be your friend.”
Navarra started to object, but Hamish cut him off. “With or without friends, what could be worse than holding a beer and saluting the fact that tomorrow is a new day? Whatever it brings, it is your choice. But drink up, Guide Navarra, you are holding up the room with your heavy words.”
“I say we drink to my boy Hamish, who knows how to solve all our problems,” Groggin shouted. “Bottoms up, gentlemen.”
And the room gave a cheer and Hamish got an elbow in the ribs. The conversations grew louder, and Hamish found he had more immediate concerns.
“Damn those bastards in Newton.” Netter said.
“All of them?” Hamish checked Netter’s pot for a leak. He’d been the first in line to receive Navarra’s largesse and now was the last in line.
“They won’t be lettin’ us into their market without paying aforehand.”
“But they always get a cut.”
“Aye, a Copper for a Bronze it was, but now they want a Bronze for the year, a’fore-hand, no matter what you sell.”
“But that’s just because no one ever paid,” Hamish said. “One Copper in one hundred is not so bad.”
“Me missus don’t even bring home a Half-Silver all year.”
“Course not, with them smelly little things you give her to sell,” Salter spoke up, rejoining the line to share in Navarra’s generosity.
Hamish tried to suggest that no one from Fisher should sell anywhere but in Fisherton, but Netter cut him off by shouting at Salter. “At least my catch is regular like. Didn’t see you coming home with much last week.”
“There’s risk and there’s reward.”
“There had better be reward. You’ll be paying before you’re drinking here,” Groggin said as he pulled Hamish aside. “You count the Kingdomer's coins before serving the house?”
“Yes, a Silver, 3 Bronzes, and 15 Coppers.”
“What? Let me see. Where would that Kingdomer get that kind of money? He’s supposed to be a Guide ain’t he?”
“It’s real.”
“He must be drunker than he looks.”
“Or planning on being generous all year.”
“Keep count. I don’t want him saying we robbed him.”
“He’ll still be getting change from his first Bronze so far.”
Groggin looked around, trying to count.
“About 30. I started a new barrel.”
“Good thinking. What he doesn’t finish he can take with him,” Groggin said. “In fact, include those pots you gave the Guards. And the cost of the pots.”
“But they aren’t here.”
“An open barrel for the house is a generous act. Don’t insult the man.”
Netter and Salter both held up their empty pots, “You heard the Master, lad, don’t insult the man’s generosity.”
“You two have another problem on your hands,” Hamish said. “Captain Grey is serving under the flag of High King t’Fhar, as well as King Rane. The ship in the harbor both is, and is not, the ship of d’Nor, so I’d say you’re both winners, and both losers. If it wasn’t for the visitor from the Kingdoms, you would both be buyers. Now take another pot over to Saltson. His knees are too weak to stand in a rocking boat.”
“Life is good, lad,” Netter said.
“As long as I don’t have to talk to your missus.”
Hamish had one more person to serve, and that required a trip to the cellar.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Hamish asked the old woman by the fire upon his return.
“What? No, boy, I was thinking.”
“Here, this will help,” Hamish said as he set a great glass of barleywine before her. The aroma from the thick creamy white head filled the room. The light from the fire in the hearth took on a magical color as it passed through the rich golden liquid. She looked at it slightly confused.
“I was to present this to the Guild Masters,” Hamish explained. “But I would ask your blessing of it first.”
“What are you doing, boy?” Groggin shouted, now standing right in front of the pair. “That is not for sale.”
But Hamish was faster, and pulled the glass out of Groggins reach. The whole room was quiet. “I know. I give it as a gift, for it is mine to give.”
“Boy...”
“Don’t grab at me, you’re going to spill it.”
“Damn you, boy, set it down. Then I’ll thrash you...” Hamish gently held the potion in front of Groggin who inhaled deeply and licked his lips.
“It’s the best we’ve ever made, Master.”
“I must taste this, boy.”
“First I would ask the blessing of the Water Witch.”
“Witch? Where? In my house?” Groggin asked. “You don’t mean to give that hag the God’s First Drop, do you, boy?”
“It is my right.”
“You still work for me, boy. Don’t let this go to your head.”
“We have discussed this before...”
“And no doubt you’ll be discussing it again,” Navarra interrupted. “Good inn master, have the boy bring us another round of drinks first. Then thrash him.”
“Have him bring us some of that which he is so free with,” Salter added with keen anticipation.
“Yes, do,” Captain Grey added. “Could this be the legendary liquid upon which the reputation of this establishment rests?”
Although Groggin clearly did not want to, he decided to agree with the clamor. “Boy, bring us your new brew. Let us see what you’ve made.”
Hamish opened his mouth to say no when the old woman added, “Yes, boy, this is too good for an old woman to drink alone. Show them the magic you have wrought from my water.”
Navarra turned to Falkyr, “Talking of Magic, that is a powerful symbol on your arm. Are you a disciple of the Dragon?”
"There be no dragons," Falkyr answered.
"The Nightlord of the Kingdoms killed a Dragon,” Navarra said after draining his pot in anticipation of Hamish’s barleywine. “The Dragon’s blood made him immortal.”
“I’ve heard that story,” Salter interrupted. “But I don’t believe it. No man is immortal.”
“The Nightlords have been around since the Beginning of Time,” Navarra said.
“Living a long time doesn’t make a person immortal,” Saltson said.
“Time began over 1000 years ago,” Navarra insisted.
“It seems to me that all it takes to live a long time is to not get killed,” Salter said. “Can your king grow a new head if someone chopped it off?”
“More to the point,” Saltson said, “if he did grow a new head, would his new head remember what was in his old head?”
“If the old head was drunk,” N
etter proposed, “would the new head also be drunk?”
“That has nothing to do with Dragons!” Navarra said hotly.
“Doesn’t it?” Hamish asked, after setting a tray of half-pots of barleywine on the counter. “What good is immortality without the ability to remember it? Can any of you really say how long you have been alive - as you are alive right now? Can any of you remember the sensations of last night as they are alive for you this night?”
“Meaning what?” Navarra asked.
“Meaning you lot had better show some respect for this barleywine, because this is all that there is. You can just share these cups around and have a taste. You will never have another moment in your life as you are going to when you taste this. If you all drop dead after your taste, you will all die happy. Your Nightlord should be pitied for having forgotten to die. Moments like this mean nothing to him for he thinks he can always have another chance, while we mortals know the truth.”
“He can’t die!” Navarra said. “He is immortal.”
“He may be animate, but is he truly alive? Does he know the value of every moment? Does he burn with the urgency of completely living right now because he knows tomorrow may never arrive, and yesterday may not have been what we think it was?”
“I’m urgently dying of thirst,” Salter interrupted.
“All these words have dried out my tongue,” Saltson added.
“Do you think the powers of the Underworld are so small, boy?” Navarra shouted. “The Dragons are just the guardians of the Doors to the Underworld.”
“And so your Nightlord also stole the powers of the Underworld after taking the life of the Guardian of the Underworld?” the old woman by the fire asked.
“I'm going to find a Dragon!” Navarra shouted and then threw back the full contents of the half-pot of barleywine in front of him. “Damn, now that is good. I’ll drink a toast to your future as a brewmaster.” And then he fell off the back of his stool.
“You can always tell a Kingdomer by how well he holds his drink,” Groggin said. “But we should all drink to his toast. Boy, add your cask of barleywine to his bill.”
And to the loud cheers to the health of all dragons, Hamish made several trips into the cellar. And then there was a toast to the generosity of Groggin, and finally a much more somber one by Captain Grey to the generosity of the Goddess of Water, who once again had allowed his crew and ship to cross safely over her domain.
“To the Goddess of Water,” Hamish quietly echoed, finally having a chance to sit and taste his special brew himself. “May the protector of Riversea and C’Holm, guardian of sailors, and inspiration to brewers be kind to us all. May her sisters, Life, Fire, Earth and Air, join her in the Promise of the Binding and reunite the World and the Underworld.”
He sat, with his eyes closed and let the velvet of the drink work its way around his tongue, and then as he swallowed, fill his body with great warmth. He knew it would have been good enough to gain him entrance into the Brewers Guild, if that option had actually ever been his. He also knew that if he drank even another mouthful he’d soon have a splitting headache.
“A strange prayer,” the old woman said from behind him. “Another bit of wisdom from your book by Santos a’Mann?”
“Perhaps,” Hamish said. It really was too good not to risk another taste. “I don’t really remember.”
“Is this prayer your voice, or a recitation of a lesson?”
“I remember,” Hamish said as he pushed the glass away. Tomorrow was not enough hours away and he had too much to do. “It comes from a book on the High King of the Nightlords. It is the prayer he said when he faced the Dragon.”
“I doubt that very much,” the old woman said, and she sat back by the fire.
“Then the tales of the Kingdomer be true?” Falkyr asked Hamish.
“They are tales written in books by scribes who heard them in places like this, and read by young boys with more imagination than experience,” the old woman said.
“In C’Holm we have no such books,” Falkyr said.
“My father had an interest in books,” Hamish said, “and he used to collect them.”
“To read these books, as you have, would a wondrous experience be.”
“They are still in the library of the Ambassador. I know he would be honored to show you his library. Come with me tomorrow, if you are free.”
Captain Grey came over to them and said, “If there is one thing you are, Prince Falkyr Fhar’son, it is free. I wonder if there has ever been a man given the training of a High King, who was then set completely free upon the World to decide his own future. You may now regret the inability to follow the path of your father, but some day you will realize you escaped the curse most men face. You do not have to merely live out a predestined fate. I feel honored to have been able to deliver you safely to freedom and your future. And you, Hamish, are not so free. This season you go home.”
“I mean to ...” Hamish began.
“This season I will not sail until I see your ass out of Riversea,” Captain Grey swore. “You should have gone home for your Testing three years ago with my son.”
“I ...”
“Since your father is no longer here I must step in and insist.” Captain Grey waved a finger at Hamish. “This year I will see you on your way. But I must now get my crew back aboard my ship so we can face the morning. Otherwise people will think I’m drunk.”
After giving Falkyr a hug and kisses on both cheeks Captain Grey ordered his men to form up and return to the ship. But he wasn’t worried when only two were capable of providing him shoulders to lean on.
Soon, those that hadn’t gone home or paid for a room were asleep at their benches in uncomfortable angles. Hamish dumped the tub of rinse water out back, and stacked the pots on the shelves, remembering that Netter had taken one full of barleywine home to his wife, and that he needed to replace the three of the Guards.
After covering the Globes to give the sleepers some darkness, Hamish noticed there was a candle burning on the table in front of the old woman, and he sat down to watch it. In the now still air of the room the flame burned tall, and the smoke rose in a column into the darkness of the rafters. The snoring and the scratching didn’t disturb the white wax or red flame. It burned on, the flame and wax seeming to not to notice one another. Both were just parts of a whole. The old woman slept with her eyes open, watching Hamish. And still the candle refused to melt as the endless sun of midsummer slowly began to brighten the room through the shuttered windows.
The ages of man
A babe has no fear
an innocent self.
Unknowing and uncaring
of the world around him.
A child learns
through falls and by guidance,
and drinks deeply
of the world around him.
A youth is a turmoil
of testing bounds and bonds.
Finding a place
in the world around him.
A man in his prime
creates and returns
that which he can
to the world around him.
A senior watches the babe
and teaches the child.
He foils the youth
and receives of the man
and becomes the World.
2On the road to Castleton
A Conversation Overheard Page 1
