by P. D. Kalnay
“You want us to help you commit insurance fraud?” I asked.
The captain didn’t answer.
“That is exactly what he is asking,” Ivy said. She turned to him. “How is this a matter of honour or vengeance?”
“Because of who holds the papers on the Starburst,” he said. “We obtained the surety through the Crimson Bank, but the consortium of investors holding the papers themselves is a front for the Three Houses. It wasn’t enough to steal our livelihood, and strangle trade upon the Endless Sea, they also wager and profit on the backs of those of us who have lived by scraping at the edges…”
“I’m in,” I said.
“Jack!”
“Why not? All we’ll be doing is giving Captain Danar a ride to Gaan. I’m fine with costing the Houses a ship. I doubt it will really hurt them, but they’ll have less money to spend on assassins, and who knows what else, right? We are, in a way, sort of at war with them, aren’t we?”
“We are certainly at odds with them,” Ivy said, “and as you say, we won’t truly be involved.”
I could tell she was caving.
“I’m for giving the Houses a black eye,” I told the captain.
“Though they are your families?” he asked.
I held up my steel hand.
“They haven’t treated us well. You want to beach the ship tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.”
The captain looked as though he wished to say more, but didn’t want to press his luck.
“What else do you want?” Ivy asked.
Hah, I’d read his hawkish features correctly.
“I hoped to discuss your boat,” he told me.
Even with the whole avoiding-me-like-I-was-on-fire deal, I’d noticed how impressed the sailors were with my boat.
“What about it?” I asked.
“I wish to purchase it, or failing that, I wish to purchase the secrets of its enchantments,” he said in a rush. “My family will pay any price for those secrets.”
Awkward, but Ivy had told me to expect an offer.
“We need the boat, and only Ivy and I can use it,” I said. It was a small lie. “Nobody else can craft the enchantments that drive the boat either.”
I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about that, but I was mostly sure it was true. Old Marielain had never sold his pumps to the world at large, and I figured he might have had good reasons. Captain Danar looked super disappointed.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If the day comes when I do sell the boat, or the enchantments, you and your family can have the first crack.”
That seemed safe enough.
A glimmer of hope replaced his disappointment, “Truly?”
“Yeah, but Ivy and I have a lot of stuff to do before I can consider anything like that.”
“Thank you, Prince Jakalain.”
We ate in silence for a while before he asked another question.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what is the purpose of your quest?”
He glanced sidelong at Ivy as he asked; having long since determined that she was the one who led our partnership. Ivy shrugged and gave me a look that said not to say too much, so I answered in the broadest terms.
“We’re trying to save the world,” I said around a mouthful of spicy fish chowder.
I thought my answer suitably vague, but I still got a kick under the table.
Captain Danar stared at us in silence for a while before he spoke again.
“You mean that literally, don’t you?” he asked. “From another I’d think it a jest, but…”
I nodded.
“What are you trying to save the world from?” he asked.
“Annihilation,” Ivy said. “This world and every other.”
“And you hope to do so at Anukdun?”
“We’re just hoping to find out the how there,” I said. “I’m sure it’ll take more than just going there and learning the answers.”
That brought on another round of awkward silence and eating.
“May I make a suggestion?” Captain Danar asked.
“Sure,” I said. He was a smart guy.
“You shouldn’t use your boat’s enchantments where any can see. I’ll tell my crew to keep silent, and they will, but your boat represents wealth and power for any wise enough to realise the possibilities. The discovery that only you can use that power may come too late.”
“We can’t row everywhere,” I said.
“No, but you should at ports where there are watchful eyes. Even at sea you’d be wise to travel under the guise of sails—which reminds me, I have a parting gift for you.”
“A gift?”
“Yes, you’ve saved us, and the crew were largely idle for the last days, so I had those with the skills craft you a set of sails for your boat.”
“That’s awesome, thanks!”
Ivy snorted, but said nothing.
“I knew we wouldn’t need the sailcloth again,” Captain Danar admitted, “making it is less generous, but even if you don’t require the sails to move, you should fly them as a façade.”
That made sense. Only one thing was missing.
“Can you teach us to sail the boat on the way to Gaan?”
“The principles are the same as those you’ve already learned; although sailing a small boat is more intimate. I can show you the differences on our journey south.”
That practical instruction would be as useful to us as the sails themselves.
***
With help from a few sailors and the ship’s crane, I bolted my mast back into place and attached the boom which had hitherto been strapped along the middle of the benches. A bundle of sail and rope followed; and by noon, with Captain Danar’s instructions, the rigging and sail were ready to go. Last but not least, the crane lowered a netted bundle containing our luggage with Ivy riding on top of it. Our time aboard the Starburst had come to an end.
The captain donated various odds and ends from the ship including fishing gear and a crate of rock-hard bread to our supplies. I used the pump to get us clear and hoisted the sail.
Ivy and I took turns at the tiller as we sailed southward down the coast. We passed by shoreline that was all sandy beaches—the sort of waterfront real-estate most wealthy people on Earth can only dream of owning. The ruins of buildings that the captain said had once been the summer estates of the Shogaan Empire’s nobility, showed their stony bones through rare gaps in the otherwise dense foliage. The jungle grew right down to the beach, and while green predominated, every colour was represented by the canopy and undergrowth. We tacked frequently into a northward wind and by the time we saw the first signs of civilisation, both Ivy and I were comfortable handling the boat.
Then we passed a tiny figure standing on shore, casting a line into the surf. He was a long way off, but I was sure he was Anubean. The jungle ended along a line of scorched earth, soon followed by cultivated fields and scattered houses before the northern half of Gaan appeared. Ivy was at the tiller, so nothing kept me from staring open-mouthed at the second largest city of the Shogaan Empire. The mouth of the Aan opened ahead of us where it drained an unimaginable volume of water into the ocean. It was so wide that the southern half of the city was only a faint, thin, whitish shimmer on the southern horizon. Ships of every size and of fantastical design floated on that river travelling who knew where, in all different directions.
Havensport had done nothing to prepare me for the spectacle, the size, or the grandeur of Gaan.
***
I’d been to big cities on Earth and maybe the place was no bigger than New York City, or London, but the architecture made the difference. Gaan was built from bluish-grey stone and roofed in green tarnished copper. Cities on Earth have special buildings that are architectural wonders, but they’re few and far between. As we turned and sailed up the river, I could see that Gaan’s meanest wharf-side taverns rivalled the great cathedrals of Europe in beauty and opulence. I couldn’t look away. It was like sailing past
a dream. Ivy brought that dream to an end.
“Stop gawking,” she said, and splashed me with a handful of seawater.
“Hey, what was that for?”
Captain Danar had taken the tiller, and the boat leaned slightly as he laughed at us.
“I’m not well travelled,” Ivy said, “but you might as well hang a sign on your chest inviting the local pickpockets and thieves.”
“I was just looking,” I said, glancing back at the captain. He shrugged and then laughed again. “What?”
“I have to admit that a part of my remaining fear of your deadly prowess drained away—watching you stare at the sights with childlike wonder.”
I looked between them.
“Fine, you’ve made your point.” It wasn’t smart being too much a tourist anywhere. “Where to, now?” I asked the captain.
There were thousands of places to dock along river’s bank. Some berths were full and others empty, and it would have been overwhelming without a guide. I wouldn’t have had a clue where to go.
“We’ll head straight for my family’s compound. Your boat and possessions will be safe there. Otherwise, you must guard them, or pay another to do so, for as long as you stay.”
I saw Ivy nod out of the corner of my eye. It was her way of telling me he spoke the truth.
“I guess we don’t need to stay at all,” I said to Ivy. “The boat is already full of provisions and…”
I stared back at the city. It’d be a shame not to see a little of it.
“We must stay for a time,” Ivy said. “It’s been too long since I had earth between my toes. I must recover the strength I lost on our voyage.”
The captain was nodding to himself as though that’s what he’d expected.
“I can recommend good lodging,” he offered.
“I’ll require time in a garden,” Ivy told him.
“I know just the place.”
Chapter 10 – The Hanging Garden
We continued to sail upriver, and if there was any current, it wasn’t noticeable. Mile after mile of city went by, and along with the buildings there were massive statues, tall towers, and wide canals that opened on the riverbank. Occasionally, I spotted buildings of curious design whose use I couldn’t fathom. I got splashed twice more before we arrived at the Danar’s compound. Marine traffic filled the river with all manner of vessels, and a ship that was the twin of the Starburst lay at anchor, a long bowshot offshore. Captain Danar took us around it before heading towards the river’s bank.
“The Starfire,” he said. “It’s my younger brother’s ship, so there’s at least one spot of luck at the end.”
“It looks identical to the Starburst,” I said.
“Built side-by-side in the same shipyard. It’s time to drop sail and take up the oars.”
We furled the sail, and I put an oar in each of the oarlocks beside me. The captain steered us towards a tall double gate made of rough wooden planks, reinforced by rusty iron fittings. A Valaneese woman stood on a platform beside the gate and called out when we got near.
“Ho, Kalan,” she shouted, “you’ve returned in a smaller ship, and with questionable cargo!”
“Work your mouth less and the winch more,” Captain Danar shouted back, but he didn’t sound angry.
The woman disappeared from sight, and a moment later I could hear the sound of something turning as the gates opened. The gates hid a channel more than wide enough for my boat, but not the oars.
“Ship the oars, and catch the line,” Captain Danar instructed.
I moved to the bow and caught a rope that a Valaneese boy threw me. While I had no reference, I guessed he was a teenager. He looked like Captain Danar, but I decided that might be racist. The boy wore a wide raptor grin as he towed the boat through the gate and along the narrow channel. The channel was lined on both sides by stone walls with walkways at their bases. Two of the longboats from the Starburst could have just passed each other in that channel. The gate closed as soon as we were in.
“What in Salren’s name are you doing here, boy?” Captain Danar shouted.
“I passed the pilot’s exam first time!” the boy shouted back. “Uncle Galan let me come as a reward. I even piloted the Starfire for part of the way!”
“How fare your mother and sisters?”
“Same as ever.”
The boy shrugged his indifference, even as he towed us. Then he ran ahead, letting out line he held coiled, and disappeared around a corner up ahead. The channel ended at a wide pond or small artificial lake surrounded by buildings, some of which had doors for boats at the waterline. The boy needed the extra rope to make it around to the far side and then pull us across and up to an empty berth. Captain Danar and I threw lines from our respective ends and the boy caught them, tying us up with the easy competence of a seasoned sailor. Then we took our first steps onto dry land after three rough months at sea.
Ivy and I were wobbly. The ground rocked beneath my feet.
“Go slowly,” Captain Danar advised. He turned to the boy. “The first time you say?”
“First time!” The boy jumped excitedly as he said it.
The captain just smiled, and said, “Not bad.”
“You took what, three tries to pass?” asked another man as he walked out a nearby doorway.
He was definitely related to the captain.
“Took you twice,” Captain Danar said, “and I still think bribery was involved.”
“Believe what you like, brother. Your boy has defeated us both.”
“He is my son,” the captain said as he embraced the youth.
“Indeed,” laughed his brother, “another obstacle he has overcome.” He took a long look at me, Ivy, and the boat. “You’ve arrived in a smaller vessel. Spirits—is that boat made from stahlwood!”
“No time for idle chatter,” Captain Danar said. “We must salvage my crew and cargo at once.”
“And the Starburst?”
The captain shook his head.
“I imagine the crew has accidentally beached her by now, and she’ll be breaking apart in the surf. How soon can you sail?”
“As soon as I can bring in half my crew—so more or less immediately.” He looked back at Ivy and me. “Should you be admitting to scuttling the ship in front of fae? How can you be sure that word won’t get back to the Houses?”
“I’m not concerned.” Captain Danar slapped his brother’s shoulder. “Although, I suppose… the Houses already know.”
“You think you’re cleverer than you are, Kalan,” Galan said with a frown. “Go tell Vanel to find as many of the crew as he can within the hour,” he told Captain Danar’s son.
“Aye, aye, uncle.”
“Allow me to introduce our guests and my paying passengers,” Captain Danar said. “Prince Jakalain Moonborn Talantial, and Princess Ivangelain Gardenborn Venantial, lately of Havensport. And this is my younger brother, Galan.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. Ivy nodded a greeting beside me.
“You brought members of two of the Houses here and told them you were scuttling a ship held under surety?”
Galan looked as if he wanted to say more, but couldn’t make the words come out.
“Technically,” I said, “all three of the Houses—ow!” Ivy hit me. “…but we aren’t close to our relatives,” I finished, rubbing my arm.
After a moment of awkward silence, the captain’s son returned. We got a second introduction and learned that his son’s name was Falan, which confirmed the theme I’d noticed.
“You said you could recommend lodging,” Ivy reminded the captain.
“Yes, Princess Ivangelain, there’s a fine inn a short way down the street. Falan will show you the way and introduce you to the proprietress.”
“But I want to come with you, Father,” Falan said.
“Next time, boy. Do as you’re told.”
“And it’s all right to leave the boat here?” I asked.
“Yes, Prince Jakalain, this
yard is well guarded. I give you my word that none will touch the boat or its contents.”
His word had been reliable to that point, and Ivy gave me her subtle nod, so I jumped back into the boat for our personal effects. I handed Ivy her bow and bundle of clothing, strapped on the shield, tucked my spare clothing under my left arm, and then extracted the Arath from beneath the benches before climbing back up onto the stone wharf.
My hammer and shield got some gawking from the captain’s brother and son.
“Come on.” Captain Danar pulled his younger brother back toward the channel we’d come down. “I’ll tell you the story as we sail.”
Ivy looked tired, so I asked Falan how far the inn was.
“A short walk, Prince Jakalain,” he said.
Falan still hadn’t taken his eyes from the hammer.
“Could you show us?” I asked.
“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “Follow me.”
He led us through a building that was mostly warehouse and partly offices, out through a front shop area where a bored-looking woman waited behind a counter, and then onto the street. The compound took up a good-sized city block, based on how far we walked.
Out front of the shop ran a narrow street with buildings rising four and five stories; often merging in arches above us and creating short covered sections as they spanned the street. There was so much to see on that road that Ivy had to tug me back into motion a dozen times before we reached the inn.
It was almost dinnertime, and the street was busy, but it wasn’t crowded. Half of the people were Valaneese, and half Anubean, with a smattering of goblins here and there. Smells and sounds I didn’t recognise surrounded me. For the first time since travelling the World Tree, I heard people speaking in languages I couldn’t understand, and strange tinkling music floated down from somewhere above us.
I wondered what instrument made it.
Falan stopped at a door under a swinging sign upon which The Hanging Garden was carved in Fae. The street front displayed no greenery, but it was a nice sounding name. A lanky Anubean man, wearing only a leather kilt, and armed with a spikey club, leaned against the wall. He looked us up and down, but didn’t move to bar our entry as Falan led us inside.
