by P. D. Kalnay
“It could be worse,” Falan said.
He nibbled on his third of a loaf of hard, tasteless travel bread. Mine had gone down in two bites, but he made his last. I looked at our remaining supplies. The good news was we recovered the sealed box with the charts and maps and that our lockbox of coin remained magically secure. Marielain’s lockbox incorporated enchantments that made it hard to focus on for most and unappealing to those people able to look at it. Ivy found the box unsettling, and Falan couldn’t bring himself to touch the thing. The final result was we still had spending money. We’d lost the sails and two thirds of the food, but still had my box of tools, likely saved by its weight. Our water supply was now only a single cask, meaning we’d need to replenish on a very regular basis.
“It could also be better,” Ivy said. “We lack the supplies needed to reach Anukdun.”
We had started out with enough food to make the journey, with room to spare. Now we had a month’s rations and little in the way of variety. Fishing might stretch the food by a few weeks.
“We have money to buy food,” I said, “and there are ports to the south, right?”
Falan couldn’t have looked any less enthusiastic.
“Or…” I said. “Maybe we can land and gather food from the jungle?”
My companions gave me looks that said I was nuts.
“The jungles of the Empire were only half-tamed at its height,” Ivy said. “Moving inland along the coast to gather food should be our last resort.”
I didn’t see how it could be worse than dealing with cutthroats, but Falan vigorously nodded his agreement. Both had proven themselves to be stalwart companions, and neither was the least bit cowardly. If they said the jungle was worse… I believed them.
“Then we’re back to buying supplies along the way,” I said. “Do you know anything about the places down the coast?”
“Only by reputation,” Falan said. “Best to choose the largest and hope to go unnoticed. We still have half of the Shattered Reaches to cross, so we can consider our options, and make a plan beforehand.”
***
We became more cautious in setting watches for the rest of our time in the Shattered Reaches. Whether that discouraged a second midnight robbery, or whether the locals were happy with taking most of what we owned was unknown. Bright sunny days and clear sailing returned, just as our water supply dwindled. I discovered that I’d never really been thirsty before—I’d only thought I had. We weren’t near death, but it was an unpleasant, dry-lipped experience. Ivy lamented the loss of the box of seeds. She might have grown us melons to assuage our thirst.
On our last night at the southern boundary of the Shattered Reaches, we ate fresh fish and discussed our situation. Ivy wanted to avoid the port cities to our south while Falan argued that we had no choice.
“We can’t manage with a single water cask,” he said for the umpteenth time, “and we should replace the sails.”
“The pump is faster than sailing,” Ivy argued.
“True,” Falan said, “but it’s conspicuous. Any who see will wonder, many will investigate, and all will covet the boat’s enchantments. Sails serve as shield against the curious. Our voyage won’t end at Anukdun.”
“Even if it rains more often, the one water barrel isn’t enough,” I said. “What if it sprang a leak? We also need food. We don’t know if we’ll find fish in the Dun, and it sounds like hunting on either bank is out, right?”
The others nodded.
“Then we have to stop somewhere. Unless you think these ports are worse than the jungle?”
The others shook their heads.
“Which only leaves deciding on our port of call.” I turned to Falan. “What do you suggest?”
“The largest and least disreputable choice is Felclaw,” Falan said. “It’s still plenty disreputable, but in a city that size we may draw less attention.”
Chapter 19 – Felclaw
Felclaw was bigger than I imagined from Falan’s stories. It was no Gaan, but easily as big as Havensport, and, by the looks of things, more crowded. I counted eighteen gargantuan, Maelstrom crossing, oceangoing ships laying at anchor and hundreds of smaller vessels docked along the main wharf. The city filled a long peninsula that curved out into the ocean like a crooked finger. White surf smashed against the back of that finger, which protected the harbour inside. The remains of a tall tower hung out over the surf at one of the ‘knuckles’. Falan said it was an imperial lighthouse, from a time when Felclaw’s residents maintained friendlier intentions towards passing seafarers.
Dense jungle pushed up to the shoreline on either side of the peninsula and a tall palisade of sharpened logs and earthen berms formed a barrier at the lowest knuckle, blocking the jungle’s encroachment. I rowed as Falan took us between the anchored ships. Nothing about the place told me at a distance that Felclaw was a den of smugglers and cutthroats.
“Jack, I recognise three of these ships,” Ivy said. “They were among those which came early to Knight’s Haven.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
One white ship looked familiar.
“Yes, I am certain.”
Some of those guys had been after Ivy when I arrived on the island.
“Do you think anybody will recognise you?”
“I don’t know,” Ivy said. “Few saw me, and few of those saw me unveiled.”
Most of the city looked inhabited.
“There must be twenty or thirty thousand people living up there,” I said, “and we aren’t planning to stay longer than it takes to buy supplies and get them on the boat. Hopefully, we can be in and out in a few hours. Maybe you should be the one to stay with the boat.”
“Yes, that is likely for the best,” Ivy said. “I can also do this.”
The butterfly hair clips glowed for moment and Ivy’s skin and hair became the same shades of violet as Erialain’s. I’d learned enough to know that changing her colouration wouldn’t fool all the First World’s denizens, but for the majority who relied on physical appearance, it was a solid disguise.
Making that change a few miles back—would have been better.
We’d planned to leave one of us onboard to watch the boat, anyway. There was no point coming to Felclaw to buy supplies and then having what we’d brought stolen.
“If you don’t move around the town, and look like that, we’ll probably be good,” I said.
I didn’t say more because a longboat rowed out to meet us and had come within shouting distance. The rowers were goblins, as was the guy who stood at the prow of the boat. I let my oars rest in the water when they came close.
I’d met a fair number of goblins, and they all had very similar features (possibly racist): all had green skin, ranging from pale grey-green to dark forest-green, black eyes, long pointy ears, and smooth bald heads. Goblins range in height from around four and a half feet for the ladies to five and a half for the men, and compared to humans their hands and feet look oversized. Those I’d met on the Starburst seemed nice.
The guys in the longboat seemed less nice.
The crew’s collection of scars alone was impressive. A few were missing ears, others eyes, and most—a finger or two. Goblins don’t live much longer than humans, and those guys had lived hard lives. The goblin at the front of the boat was better dressed than the rest in a new looking tunic. His one eye—not covered in a patch—examined our boat and us.
“I be the port master. What be yer business in Felclaw?” he asked.
He didn’t sound nice either.
“We seek resupply,” Falan said.
We’d decided to let Falan do our talking and take the lead since the world universally disliked our people. The goblin considered that for the moment.
“Two gold imperials, docking fees,” he said.
“We’ll pay one for a prime berth,” Falan said.
After giving us another quick examination, the goblin shrugged.
“Agreed,” he said, “ya must wait here f
er inspection.”
“Inspection?” Falan put on a pretty convincing show of indignation. “Is this a free port or isn’t it?”
“Free as the chief wants it to be,” the goblin said. He pointed at Ivy and me. “Ya comes in a fae ship, ya gets inspected.”
He rubbed his chin before adding, “Perhaps, for another twenty imperials, I might forget.”
Falan made a show of considering the offer. Then he dug a single gold coin from his pocket and tossed it across the water. The harbour master snatched it neatly from the air and pocketed it.
“We’ll wait for the inspection,” Falan said.
The goblin took the brass horn hanging at his waist and gave three quick blasts, followed by five, and after another pause, three more. Another horn from shore repeated the sequence back, and then we waited. It took a good hour for the next boat to join us, and we endured the silent stares of eleven goblin sailors for that time.
The second longboat was crewed by another group of unsavoury looking goblins, and brought a wizened, black robed goblin lady. She looked ancient and no friendlier than the rest. The boat came alongside us, and I pulled my oar from the water and out of the way.
“One gold imperial… fer the inspection fee,” the port master said.
Falan hesitated, shrugged, dug into his pocket, and tossed a second gold coin. Oars were shipped and five lean, muscly arms drew our boat tight to the new arrival. The old goblin lady stooped to take a silver cage from a box at her feet. It looked like a small bird cage, but something more interesting slumped between the bars.
I got a better look when she squeezed past me.
The saddest creature I had ever seen lived in that cage. Its skin and wings were painted in dull grey tones reminding me of a black and white photo, and it curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the swinging cage. Until the cage was right next to me, I thought it a bird. Instead, I saw a little winged person who would have stood no taller than the length of my hand. It had wings that reminded me of my own, and features that were even sharper and less human looking than a winathen. It lay unmoving on the bottom of the cage. At first I thought it might be dead, but a sick feeling in my stomach told me it wasn’t.
The woman carried the cage up and down the length of the boat, holding it close to our cargo. Ivy said nothing as the woman passed by, but I knew her expressions well enough to know she was killing mad. Then the inspector returned to her own boat.
“Clean,” she said.
Her rowers pushed away from us.
“Follow us in,” the port master said.
His oarsmen turned the second boat towards shore.
Once they passed out of earshot, I asked Ivy what was in the cage.
She turned away from me.
Falan answered, “It’s a spent wysp. They use them at every port to inspect fae ships.”
The sad creature looked nothing like the bright joyful wysps Ivy described. I’d forgotten the inspections fae ships received at every port of call since the open wyspire trade had ended. That even the worst places checked for it, underlined the dangerous nature of wyspire.
The other boats led us to a long, and otherwise empty, stone pier. The port master pointed to it and continued onward. Falan took us alongside, turning the boat so it faced the harbour. Once we were close enough, Ivy leaped out with a mooring line. Our boat floated alone at the end of the pier which meant extra walking with supplies, but a faster escape, should the need arise. There was also no cover behind which enemies might hide.
I held onto the hope that we could simply shop and leave.
“I doubt anyone will recognise you here,” I said. “This looks like the least used part of the harbour.”
“I shall stand guard,” Ivy said. “Jack, don’t explore this place. Get what we need and return.”
“We will.”
While sailing around the peninsula, we’d seen that the city was built right up to the edges. The back curve of the finger ended at stone cliffs which endured the pounding of the Endless Sea. The inner curve, where the harbour lay, sloped gently from the shore and provided calm, sheltered waters. I only needed one glance to confirm that Felclaw wasn’t a ramshackle nest of pirates. It was more a miniature version of Gaan, with impressive buildings and thoughtful architecture. Only in a few places were less well-constructed wooden structures visible. The current city resulted from centuries of squatting.
“Do you have any idea where to go?” I asked Falan.
“No, the sailors I’ve spoken to were light on details, and may not have truly visited. You never know with drunk, old seamen, but markets usually aren’t far from harbours.”
***
Taverns rimmed the harbour, and we passed by plenty of boisterous places, although it was well before noon. We also passed drunken seamen sleeping in alleys and sometimes across the narrow road. That forced us to step around the snoring, drooling bodies. The city looked classier at a distance, but up close it had the sights and smells I expected from a nest of pirates. A goblin boy approached us a short way along the row of taverns. I didn’t see where he’d come from.
“G’day, sirs,” he said. “Are ya in need of a guide?”
I let Falan decide and answer.
“If the price is right,” Falan said.
The boy grinned up at us, “Fer a silver crown, I’ll shows ya the whole city.”
“We’ll pay a copper ring,” Falan said, “for a less grand tour.”
“Five,” the boy answered without hesitation.
“Two,” Falan offered.
“Three,” the boy said.
“Done… paid after the guiding.”
The boy crossed his arms, “One, upfront.”
Falan dipped into a pocket and produced a copper coin with a hole in the centre, “Here you go. Take us to the market; we’re looking for foodstuffs.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said as he pocketed the coin. “Name’s Benkar. I knows all the best places.”
***
Falan was correct, and Felclaw’s main market was located only a few minutes’ walk away. We’d have found the open square ourselves if we’d carried on. Nothing about the market looked nefarious, and the city was less crowed than Gaan, meaning that people were out, but nobody pressed up against us. Venders of mixed races sold fruits, breads, and meat in many varieties. Some of the merchants specialised in travel foods too. Falan inspected and then bargained for salted meats, hard sea biscuits, and a dozen other things. I’d have had no idea about quality or how much to pay, but Falan was a bargaining machine. Within an hour he declared our food shopping complete.
It took a tenth of the coins from Marielain’s strongbox, but we now had enough food for the journey to Anukdun, and beyond. Falan negotiated with the market’s porters to transport the small mountain of crates, casks, and sacks to our boat. The only items we needed, not available at the market were sailcloth and water casks.
Near the middle of the market square sat a rusted cage large enough to hold fifty people, pressed up together. The cage held one creature, and like most animals at zoos I’d visited, it lay unmoving in the middle. The cage wouldn’t have allowed it more than two or three steps in any direction. Ragged children pelted the creature with stones, to no visible response, and when I led Falan closer, they ran off, laughing. Spikes, driven into the stone, held the cage in place, and the bars were as thick as my wrist. I recognised the occupant’s race at once.
Though mangy and filthy, there was no mistaking the maigur. He was as big as the statues surrounding the bazaar in Gaan, and even lying down and behind bars—brought an impressive level of intimidating scariness.
“We should get moving,” Falan said.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
At the sound of my voice, a muzzle rose from the huge ball of matted fur and sniffed the air. A red eye covered in whitish film looked my way.
“I don’t see well in daylight anymore, but I remember the scent of fae,” the maigur said.
Slowly, it found its huge well-clawed feet and limped closer to us. It was behind bars and obviously had been for a long time, but Falan and I still stepped back. Shoulders, wider than my outstretched arms, and taller than my head supported a broad canine face and jaws that looked capable of tearing good sized tree trunk in half. The maigur had black fur with patches of grey and white growing in. Large balding sections revealed the dark skin beneath. It moved in a careful, arthritic way which didn’t diminish the scary.
“Hello,” I said.
“You have a curious smell. Not rock breaker or moth, but hints of both.”
The raspy voice sounded little used.
“I’m a mix,” I said.
I knew we should move on, but I’d never gotten much chance to speak to the maigur in the forest behind Glastonbury Manor.
“Ah, I’ve heard tell of you, Son of Talantial.”
“Really?” How was that possible?
“Oh, yes. Just yesterday, a group of adventurers discussed your price and another bounty on some runt of House Venantial. You’re remarkably valuable… or well hated. With a few words I could have this city tearing itself apart—fighting for your head.”
“Why don’t you?” I asked.
“Seeing one fae die at the price of pleasing others? Hardly seems worth it. A few of this rabble would benefit, those who wish you dead would benefit, but how would I benefit?”
I had no answer to that. In spite of his beastly appearance there was nothing bestial about the maigur’s voice. He spoke Fae with flawless clarity and with no detectable accent. I’d discovered that mouth shape played a role in how different races sounded. Anubeans had a distinctive doggy accent, and even Falan’s people had voices that became unmistakable once you grew accustomed to them. Huge muzzle of teeth or not, the prisoner spoke with unaccented precision.
“Why are you locked up in here?” I asked.
“What do you care?”
“Just curious.”
