by P. D. Kalnay
“This is my new home.” Frithanzel did a dance I believed showed spelikan excitement or happiness. “It’s thanks to you that I have this opportunity.”
I figured she referred my reign of death and destruction, which I didn’t want to think about.
“No problem,” I said. I had unfinished work waiting in the shop. “Thanks for the clothes.”
“Thank you, Prince Jakalain.”
We headed home after that, and, a short distance away, Ivy reprimanded me, “You were rude not to examine and praise her work.”
“I was?”
“Yes, but I expect she has already forgiven you.”
“Huh? What makes you say?”
“Frithanzel is pregnant.”
“I never touched her—ow!”
“Not funny. She’s been chosen from among her many sisters to breed and begin the second family of spelikan here on Knight’s Haven. It is because of you.”
That seemed like a lot of conclusions, based on limited information.
“What have I got to do with it?”
“You have made her fortune and her name.”
“By buying clothes?” I didn’t try to keep the scepticism from my voice.
Ivy stopped short.
“Frithanzel is tailor to the Blackhammer reborn, and you crafted the tools of her trade. She will never want for custom—thanks to your name.”
“I think you’re blowing things out of proportion. People won’t even look me in the eye.”
“They fear you, but that will only cause your name to grow.”
Fame wasn’t something I’d spend a second of my time pondering.
“Will that cause us problems as we travel?”
“A great name is a double-edged sword. Let’s go home. I wish to try on my new clothing!”
***
Two sets of clothing filled the larger bundle: green and blue dresses for Ivy, and blue and black robes for me. The robes were similar to those the knights wore. I tried them on in my room, and it took a while to figure out what went where and which bit tied to the other. My new robes were unadorned and beautifully made. They were also comfortable, and fit me perfectly, right down to the openings in the back for my wings. I’d never been interested in clothing, but quality craftsmanship was dear to my heart, and those garments were the work of a master.
Once I had the second, black set on, I moved to the living room to have a look in the apartment’s only mirror. Ivy was there ahead of me. She stood in front of the mirror in a sleeveless, high-collared blue dress that only did good things for her figure. It had never needed help. Ivy had changed her hair to the same shade of blue as the dress and her skin was a few tones lighter. I stopped in the doorway, gawking.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked, still examining her reflection.
“Wow.”
“Wow?”
“Definitely, wow.”
“I suppose that will do,” she said. Her smile was a rich cobalt blue.
I crossed the room without thinking and kissed her. Ivy tensed up for a second and then she kissed me back. It was close to a year since our last kiss, but we made up for a fair bit of that year in those minutes. By unspoken agreement the kissing ended.
“You approve of blue then?” Ivy asked. She was out of breath too.
“It’s OK, I guess.”
“How are your clothes? They look good.”
“They’re fine, and they fit perfectly.”
“What did the smaller bundle hold?”
“I forgot about that. Frithanzel said she’d add something to the deal to make up for the tools.”
I retrieved the second bundle from my bed. It was wrapped in distinctive, rough brown cloth that had previously held coiled rope in a warehouse by the harbour.
“Here, let’s look,” I said when I got back to the living room.
The bundle held two cloaks. A long one with a slit in the back and another that was Ivy sized. Neither was made from the fabric I supplied. The cloaks were white with a hint of silver when the light played across them.
“I think Frithanzel has more than balanced the scales,” Ivy said.
She appeared mesmerised by her cloak, turning it to see the shifting shimmer of the fabric.
“What’s so special about these?” I asked.
The cloaks were of the same high quality as the rest of the clothes. I couldn’t even find any seams, and they were surprisingly heavy for such thin material.
“Shimersilk,” Ivy said. “She made them from shimersilk… possibly, from all she had.”
Ivy sounded impressed.
“What’s shimersilk?”
“A spelikan matriarch can only produce shimersilk for the first three days of pregnancy and never again. The cloth woven from it is most often sold to establish her family and pay for their needs until the children grow and can work. These must be the entirety of what she produced. I assumed she had taken advantage—but you may be in Frithanzel’s debt.”
“Should I pay her more?”
“No, that would be a grave insult. Tell any who ask that she crafted your clothing. It will be payment enough.”
“Why is shimersilk so great? Is it waterproof?”
“Yes, and warm, and it will stop an arrow or a blade. Shimersilk is nearly impossible to cut. The wealthiest wear it as a close-fitting layer under their other clothing, and the garments are passed down as heirlooms.”
“Like a bulletproof vest?”
Ivy had seen a few cop movies, but hadn’t liked the genre.
“Yes, that is a good analogy, but I doubt anyone has an entire cloak. We shouldn’t wear these lightly.”
“They are heavy.”
“Funny. I meant that they’d attract the wrong sort of attention.”
“I’d like to see somebody rob us,” I said. “Between my hammer and your bees–”
“It would be wiser to avoid the confrontation, and we will grow weaker as we travel west.” Ivy pointed out the window and down towards the harbour. A new ship was tying up at the pier. “I shall speak to the captain of that vessel and learn its next port of call.”
“All right, I’ve got stuff to do in the workshop.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m forging a smaller pump like the one on the boat, and I have to add something to the tiller.”
“Why?”
“The pump will be a bilge pump, so we never have to bail, and I’m adding an enchantment that should let you operate both pumps, in case you were alone in the boat, or I was sleeping or something.”
“Those sound like wise projects.”
“I thought so. One has the information on how to do both.”
“Then I shall see you at dinner.”
“Can you buy meat at the market on your way back?”
“Yes, Jack, I will purchase meat for your dinner.”
“Awesome.”
Chapter 4 – The Fallen Ogre
A long afternoon in the workshop and the smithy, took me halfway to completing my final projects on Knight’s Haven. I might have finished by pushing forward, late into the night, but at dinnertime I set down hammer and graver and returned to the apartment. Amazing aromas greeted me at the doorway. We were having meat for dinner! I wasn’t a meat obsessed carnivore or anything—I’d just suffered a year of living as a reluctant vegan, and hadn’t enjoyed the experience. As far as I was concerned, surrendering your spot on the food chain was crazy.
Ivy poked her head out of the kitchen door as I arrived. My ability to sense her presence disappeared along with tattoo and hand, but I could still sense the necklace and hair clips if I tried. Ivy always knew where I was.
“Dinner is ready,” she said. “Please carry the tray to the balcony.”
“OK.”
Marielain’s biggest serving tray was loaded with bowls of dark stew, steaming vegetables, and flatbread. Ivy followed with a goblet of water in each hand. We settled in on the balcony and ate without talk
ing until half the food was gone.
“This stew is delicious,” I said.
“It has meat…” Ivy ate little of her stew, focussing instead on the nasty triangular bread she loved. “How did your projects go?”
“I’ll finish them in the morning, by lunch at the latest.”
“Perfect!”
“In what way?” I asked.
I pulled the rest of Ivy’s stew closer to finish her bowl. She took my untouched chunk of bread.
“The Starburst,” Ivy pointed to the one ship docked in Havensport, “is continuing west in three days’ time. We’re meeting with her captain tonight.”
“We are?”
“Yes, we have an appointment at the Fallen Ogre after sunset.”
“At the what?”
“The Fallen Ogre. It’s a tavern near the warehouse district.”
“There’s a tavern?”
“Three taverns have opened in Havensport, although none has a complete roof. The patrons don’t seem to mind.”
“Three? Since when?”
Ivy shook her head.
“You didn’t go out much, did you?”
“No.”
I’d become a recluse in my time on Knight’s Haven.
“I suppose it would be worse if you frequented such places.”
“Way to look on the bright side,” I said. “Do you have any idea what passage will cost?”
“A rough idea. How much gold is in the workshop?”
“Enough coins to fill a barrel, I’d guess. Plus bars, and wire. There’s also silver and gemstones and–”
“We’ll be fine,” Ivy said, cutting me off. “Let me handle the negotiating.”
***
The Fallen Ogre was on Embassy Way, the main street of old Havensport. Much of the ceiling was open to the stars above, so presumably the place closed for the semi-regular thunderstorms the island enjoyed. Sections of walls were missing, but freshly laid stones topped many of them. Piles of cut stone and wheelbarrows lined the alley south of the tavern.
I heard rowdy voices from inside well up the road, and a lack of finished walls and roof made it easy to see the flickering glow of the lamps and torches. A surprising number of people were out on the dark streets of the city, going about their business. It drove home the fact that I’d never gone out after eating dinner. I assumed everybody else on the island stayed in too.
The voices should have warned me, but I was still shocked to find the tavern packed. Some patrons sat on roughly crafted benches at makeshift tables in the centre, while the majority stood, either at the bar or around the perimeter of the large room. Most flavours of fairy-tale creature, I’d met so far, were on hand except for spelikan, fae, and I assumed—dragon. The place smelled of alcohol, which must have made its way up the Tree along with people from the lower worlds. The crowd in the Fallen Ogre was boisterous until somebody spotted Ivy and me standing in the doorway. Whispers and pointing were quickly followed by silent staring.
Only one corner of the room appeared unaffected by our arrival. I later learned that the people there were all crew from the Starburst.
Ivy led me to a small table at the back of that corner.
A stocky Valaneese man rose from the table to greet us. He had the same hawkish features as Captain Hilal, the woman who brought Sir Andriel to the island. I’d since learned that the Valaneese held top spot on the Endless Sea before the Fae took control of Knight’s Haven. Ivy said that Valaneese interests had most likely paid to have us killed back at Glastonbury Manor. Since the island was now open to everyone, I figured there was no point in holding grudges.
“Princess Ivangelain, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” The man gave a neat half-bow before turning to me. He offered his hand. “Prince Jakalain, I am Kalan Danar, captain of the Starburst. Won’t you please join me?”
I shook his rough, clawed hand and Ivy and I sat on the opposite bench. The crewmembers, who sat with him, moved to other tables.
“Thanks,” I said. “Ivy—Ivangelain said you’re going west?”
“Yes, we are bound for Gaan and shall depart in three days’ time. Princess Ivangelain informed me that you seek passage.”
“We’re going to Anukdun. How far is Gaan from the mouth of the Dun?”
“Two thousand miles, give or take, but those waters are dangerous,” he took a sip of his ale and grimaced before setting the tankard back on the table. “Hopefully, Havensport will support a proper brewery before too long.”
“Why are the waters dangerous?” I asked.
“Pirates, scavengers, and assorted scum—many hiding within the Reaches.” Captain Danar spat on the floor beside the table. “When the Empire fell, there was a race to snatch up the broken pieces. The north was largely absorbed by Anube, but the southern half runs wild and shelters the worst sorts of people. Trade bustles at a few of the old southern ports, but it’s a dark trade, and those waters are best avoided. Ships that must pass that way do so in numbers and with force of arms. Princess Ivangelain said you propose to sail south on your own?”
“Yeah, we have a boat. We’d need you to take it too. Can you tow it?”
“I examined your craft before dinner,” Captain Danar said. “It’s small enough for the gantry crane to lift on deck and lower back into the sea, so long as you dismount the mast for the voyage. You have quite a reputation, Prince Jakalain, if stories are to be believed, but sailing a small vessel south from Gaan is perilous. No skill at arms will aid you on the open sea, and as fae your gifts will be largely ineffective…”
“Do you know of an alternate route to the library,” Ivy asked. “How do people commonly get there?”
“The short answer is that commonly they don’t.” He took another sip of his drink. “The few who do, take the old overland route through the middle of the southern Empire. A caravan makes the journey once each year, surrounded by a small army of guards. That caravan delivers supplies to the library along with a handful of hopeful academics.”
“Maybe we could go with them,” I suggested.
“You can, if you can pay, but you must wait. This year’s caravan will set out from Sho in two months’ time, so catching it will prove impossible. The prudent course is waiting until next year.”
“That’s a long time to wait,” I said.
The captain laughed.
“Ah, to be young and impatient again,” he said when he’d finished. “What is a year to you?”
We’d live for centuries, and a year of waiting wasn’t technically a big deal, but something deep inside told me that waiting around wasn’t an option. I didn’t know why we had a schedule, but my gut said we did.
“We need to go sooner,” I said.
Ivy looked as though she wanted to disagree, but she said nothing in front of the captain.
“Well, I’m more than happy to take your coin to offset my lack of cargo,” Captain Danar said. “The transportation of two passengers and a boat halfway across the world will be expensive.”
“How expensive?” I asked.
He looked up at the starry sky and paused like he was doing complex mental arithmetic.
“One hundred and fifty gold leafs,” he said.
That was only a small fraction of our coins, and I was about to agree before the heel of a tiny foot stomped mine under the table.
“That is an outrageous sum,” Ivy said. “Unless you were offering to sell us the Starburst?”
Captain Danar’s pale blue eyes went wide and then he laughed again. What followed was a half-hour of friendly, but hard-nosed negotiation between Ivy and the captain. I’d have been fine just paying the gold, since we had a lot of it anyway, but Ivy had other ideas.
After watching the show, I was certain that Ivy’s education included the negotiation of trade agreements and the First World equivalent of contract law. The captain wasn’t angry, but it was clear he wasn’t sure who’d come out on top. They settled for sixty-five gold leafs, with a few extra comforts for us that
Ivy tacked on.
Captain Danar told me to bring my boat over the day before we sailed to get it squared-away on deck. Then we wished him a good evening and left. I could hear the volume of the Fallen Ogre increase as we walked away from the tavern.
“That was amazing,” I said.
“What was amazing?”
“You,” I said. “You bartered him to less than half.”
“Our accepting his first offer would be the same as saying we are young fools who wish to be separated from all we have. Showing naiveté is a short path to misfortune.”
“You think he’d have tried to rob us later, or something?”
“Likely not, I sense he is honest enough. Further, you have established a name on this island, and he hopes to return here many times in future, but there are other ways to earn respect besides prowess in battle, Jack.”
I took her hand and gave it a squeeze as we walked, “You can do our negotiating.”
“That would be wisest.”
***
After meeting with Captain Danar there still remained a few things to do before we left Knight’s Haven. Our lifetime imprisonment on the island had only lasted a single year for me and a few months longer for Ivy. When I looked at my stump, I was torn over whether I paid too much for my freedom.
It was a little late for second thoughts.
The next morning, I finished the bilge pump and the iron band that would slide over the boat’s tiller. Then I spent the afternoon on the boat attaching them. The pump worked fine, emptying a few pails worth of water from the bottom of the boat in seconds, and I thought my boat might be unsinkable, but saying it out loud seemed a bad idea.
All that remained was having Ivy test my alterations.
***
Sir Rathal blocked my path on the way back up to dinner. The scaly knight looked like he had something to say, and, although the road was more than wide enough go around, I stopped to hear him out. He was heavily bandaged and walked with a cane, but he’d survived. The last time I’d seen him it seemed unlikely.
“Greetings, Prince Jakalain,” he said.
Our interactions up till then had been less than cordial, and I wondered what he wanted.
