Eynon was quiet for a few minutes. He looked at the settlements on either side of the Rhuthro as they grew larger and closer together. The listening spell was still in place, so Merry could make out a word or two as Eynon muttered to himself, but nothing he said formed coherent sentences. Finally, he looked over his shoulder and asked a question.
“When was the last war between the kingdoms?”
“I’m not sure,” said Merry, “but at least twenty years ago. My father and Doethan fought in it. That’s how my da got his lands.”
Eynon nodded, encouraging Merry to continue if she had more to say.
“My da was really old—almost twenty-eight—when I was born. He served in Brendinas for several years after the last war ended. I’m almost sixteen and…”
“I’ve added up the sums,” Eynon interrupted. “We don’t think much about war in the Coombe, but it looks like we’re due for one soon, if Derry was at court for three or four years—not that wars come on precise time tables.”
“You may be right,” said Merry. “Now I’m even more interested in spending my wander year in Doethan’s tower.”
“Agreed,” said Eynon. “We’re both prime candidates to be drafted into the levies.”
“If we learn something from Doethan,” said Merry, “we can aim higher and become crown wizards.”
“I think I’m less interested in glory or dying for my kingdom than you are.”
“If we’re going to be called one way or the other, our odds of dying are a lot higher holding a spear or a crossbow than a wizard’s staff,” said Merry.
“You’ve got a point,” said Eynon. “Is that Rhuthro Keep?”
Eynon could see a tall, square castle ahead on the left bank. One of its walls was next to the river and it stretched back at least twice as far as the castle at Caercadel.
The structure had massive square towers on each of its four corners while a fifth round tower in the middle formed a large central keep. As they approached, Eynon noticed several stone docks, each as big as the one at Flying Frog Farms, but without the covered merchants’ booths at the back.
Soldiers, wearing white and purple surcoats over mail, clinked about checking boats and deliveries. Most of the dock space was in use and hundreds of barrels, crates and casks were stacked several rows high, ready to be moved inside. Dozens of new conscripts were milling around like so many sheep in a pen, waiting to be ordered somewhere by liveried soldiers.
“What’s on those surcoats?” asked Eynon. “I can’t make out the design, except to tell it’s mostly white with some purple.”
“You’ve got a good eye to make out that much at this distance,” said Merry. “They are white, with a purple V-shape, pointing down, and a black portcullis above that.”
“A portcullis?”
“An iron gate. The river narrows up ahead. Rhuthro Keep guards the Rhuthro valley from anyone attacking from downriver.”
“Did Tamloch ever drive an army this far into Dâron?” asked Eynon. “We’re a long way from their territory.”
“Rhuthro Keep more likely guarded the valley from other nobles in Dâron, not foreign armies,” said Merry. “Some nobles act like what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine, too.”
“The people in the Coombe went west to escape quarreling nobles,” said Eynon. “Our baron wishes only to stay in Caercadel and avoid the kingdom’s squabbles—at least that’s what my father says.”
“You’ve got a wise baron,” said Merry.
“We think so,” said Eynon. “Long life to him and the heirs of his body who follow.”
“Long life,” echoed Merry. “If war comes, though, even your baron must answer the king’s call.”
They were quiet for a span, considering their own thoughts, as their boat neared the bustle of Rhuthro Keep.
“Where do we put in?” asked Eynon.
“The closest dock,” said Merry. “The one with a single man-at-arms on duty. I think I recognize him.”
“I’ll tie up the prow,” said Eynon, as Merry carefully brought the boat against the sturdy stone dock. Thick bundles of twigs served as bumpers to prevent the dock from damaging visiting vessels.
“I’ve got the stern,” said Merry, expertly looping a rope around a cleat. “Tally!” she shouted at the young guardsman approaching. “Why is it so busy? Is the king coming to visit?”
“I hope not,” said the young man.
Eynon pegged him at no more than eighteen. He was quite a bit shorter than Eynon but sturdy and muscular, probably from months of work with sword and shield, wearing heavy mail. Tally wore a conical steel cap and a worried look.
“The crown has summoned the army,” the young soldier continued.
Eynon and Merry exchanged a wary glance.
“I was afraid that might be why,” said Merry. “How’s your sister?”
“Expecting her first child this summer,” said Tally, “but her husband’s been drafted and will likely be on campaign along with me when the child arrives.”
“I’m glad and sorry to hear that,” said Merry. “This is my friend Eynon, from the Coombe,” she continued, waving a hand at Eynon. “We’ve got a jug of cider for the earl.”
Eynon reached back and found a jug. He changed his grip to grasp it more securely, then lifted it up to Tally.
“Careful with that,” said Eynon. “It’s so delicious you won’t want to lose a drop.”
“I know,” said Tally. “I’ve had a mug or two of Applegarth cider before, when I rowed my sister up to see Merry.”
“See that it gets to the earl,” said Merry. She followed her words with an obvious wink. Tally laughed, then his face grew serious.
“You’d better leave now,” he said, “before some of the more senior people decide to commandeer all four of your barrels to support the war effort. They’d be very popular in the officers’ feast hall.”
“Good advice,” said Merry as she scanned the docks for anyone Tally’s superior.
“It’s also smart for the two of you to get on your way,” said Tally. “The freelance recruiters have slots to fill.”
“But I’m only fifteen,” Merry protested.
“You look older,” said Tally. “Be on your way then. I’ll see that this jug is well cared for.”
“I’m sure you will,” said Merry. This time, Tally winked.
Merry untied the rope at the stern while Eynon did the same at his end. He used his staff to push the prow away from the dock and felt their craft shoot forward as Merry steered them out into the current.
“Congratulations to your sister,” shouted Eynon before the boat was out of earshot. Tally waved to confirm he’d heard Eynon’s good wishes. Merry directed their boat to the far side of the river until they were well past the castle.
“Doethan was right, it seems,” said Merry. “Dâron and Tamloch go to war every twenty years.”
“But why did the war have to start three days into my wander year?”
“You can feel sorry for yourself later,” said Merry. “Now, I recommend you tie your wrist to the prow line. There’s rough water ahead and I don’t want to lose you over the side—again.”
“Your concern for my welfare is appreciated.”
“Pipe down and watch for rocks.”
“Yes, dear lady.”
The boat shook as they entered a stretch of turbulence. Ahead, the river narrowed sharply, its channel cutting a steep-sided passage through a ridge almost as tall as the nearby mountains. The current moved faster, forcing its volume through the constriction.
“Hang on,” said Merry. “It’s going to be quite a ride.”
Chapter 10
“The swiftest path sometimes meanders.”
— Ealdamon’s Epigrams
; Eynon did hang on. It wasn’t much of a choice. If he didn’t, he’d fall overboard and would likely be killed, his body bashed against the boulders flanking the entrance to the channel. Despite its heavy cargo, the boat began to buck like a stallion after knocking over a beehive. The prow tossed up and crashed down as it plowed through the roiling waters. Curtains of water splashed high on either side. Eynon tried to suppress his fear, but failed. He clutched the bow thwart with white-knuckled hands as he sat, soaked and shivering.
Turbulence was replaced by even more speed when they passed the entrance. Eynon felt swept along by a giant’s hand shoving them ever faster. He went to his knees and leaned forward to reduce his resistance to the wind. The walls of the gap were a blur. Eynon didn’t try to call out rocks—there’d be no time to change course if he did.
He heard a cry from Merry and looked over his shoulder to see what was wrong. To his surprise, he saw she was excited, not troubled. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was open, and her hair streamed out behind her. Merry’s face was wet from spray, and her cheeks were bright. She was enjoying shooting the gap.
Eynon watched as Merry gripped the steering oar with both hands, using her body to help hold it tight and maintain their course. He saw she had the boat under control and was thrilled to test her skill. Eynon told himself he shouldn’t be afraid and took deep breaths to calm his racing heart, but was only partly successful.
Looking back was making him dizzy, so he turned downriver again and tried to take in his surroundings. The walls of the gap were steep and sheer. Curving diagonal layers of rock were exposed on both sides of the channel where the river had cut through the ridge. They went by too fast for Eynon to take in many details.
Ahead, Eynon could see a wide patch of sky. Their boat was caught up by a wave and swept onward. Seconds later they were through, popping from the gap like a stopper from a cider jug. Eynon’s heart rate abruptly slowed and he released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
“Whee!” shouted Merry as they were carried along on a wave.
Eynon turned in his seat.
“Whee,” he said, without a trace of Merry’s celebratory glee.
They were gliding through a wide section of the river past the gap. It was almost a lake, with a strong current. He saw a queue of boats near the west bank.
“Wasn’t that fun?” asked Merry.
“Uh huh,” said Eynon. “Fun. Right. Let’s row back upstream and do it again.”
He shook his head to show that what he said and what he meant were not the same.
Merry laughed.
“You didn’t like it?”
“Speed, terror, and the threat of drowning,” said Eynon in a flat voice. “Of course I liked it.”
“I shot the gap just for you,” said Merry.
“We had a choice?” asked Eynon. “Come to think of it, how do boats ever get upstream against that current?”
“Easy,” said Merry. “There are locks beyond the castle. You couldn’t see them because the walls were in the way. Those boats to the west are waiting to use them.”
“Aren’t locks for keeping people out of places?”
“Not these locks. Boats are locked into watertight stone pens, then water is pumped in or out to raise them up or lower them down. There are three side-by-side pairs of locks at the Keep. Think stairways—one for going up, one for going down.”
“You mean we didn’t have to shoot the gap?”
“No, but the locks are a lot slower. And we’d have to pay a toll to use them.”
“Did your father know you were going to shoot the gap?”
“No,” said Merry, “and don’t tell him. He took me through years ago to give me a thrill, but cautioned me never to try it on my own. I’ve done it every solo trip I’ve taken since, and sold the toll jugs to buy books in Tyford.”
“In that case,” said Eynon, “I forgive you for scaring me, even though that was quite a trick to play on someone who’s only spending his second day on the river.”
“If you forgive me, I’ll make it up to you,” teased Merry.
“Consider yourself forgiven,” said Eynon. “If you teach me that listening spell when we stop to share the last Applegarth eating apple.”
“I’m glad to teach you the spell,” said Merry. “I said I would—but what makes you think there’s only one apple left?”
“I thought Madollyn’s cooks only gave us two.”
“Yes, but there are more than a dozen of them in a basket stowed below,” said Merry. “My mother made sure we were well-supplied.”
“I think I’m quite fond of your mother,” said Eynon.
“So am I,” said Merry, “when we’re not under the same roof.”
Eynon sat back on the thwart and let the morning sun dry his face and hair.
“There were times when my mother and father joked that wander years became a tradition because it got young people away from home so their parents didn’t kill them,” he said, “though I get along with my parents well enough.”
“You don’t know?” asked Merry.
“Know what?”
“Why we have wander years.”
“There really is a reason?” asked Eynon. “I thought it was just a tradition. Traditions don’t need reasons.”
“Of course there’s a reason,” said Merry. “You’re a farmer. You should know what happens when you have a small herd of sheep or cattle and don’t bring in a new ram or bull every few years.”
“Too many aren’t born right,” said Eynon. “One of my cousin’s cows gave birth to a two-headed calf a few years ago.”
“That’s the idea,” said Merry. “Now think it through.”
Eynon thought, then spoke.
“I get it,” he said. “If small settlements don’t bring in new blood, babies won’t be healthy.”
“And…” encouraged Merry.
“And sending us out on wander years to meet new people…”
“When you bring them home and marry them, or join their families elsewhere, it…”
“Keeps our lines strong,” completed Eynon.
“Precisely,” said Merry.
“I’d always thought wander years were there so that we could have adventures before settling down,” said Eynon.
“Why can’t they be both?” asked Merry. “For adventures, and for healthy babies when their parents are ready?”
“Both it is,” said Eynon. “When’s our next stop?”
“Not far,” said Merry. “There’s a wood on the east bank up ahead. It’s between two farms and they keep it wild so there are plenty of deer to hunt. I know a private, sheltered spot there where we can anchor and share that apple.”
“And teach me the listening spell,” said Eynon.
“And find a way to make up for the fright I caused you.”
“Will you rub my back?” asked Eynon.
“Something like that,” said Merry.
* * * * *
After they shared the apple, Eynon was quite pleased by Merry’s means of making up. The two found a euphemism for lovemaking when their cries of passion scared a mother doe and her fawn into running deeper into the forest. Frightening the deer became a way for them to secretly joke about spending private time together.
Later, they discovered that not all the animals at their stop were afraid of them. Eynon fed a bold chipmunk a bit of honey cake while Merry enticed the creature with a small piece of apple. It chittered at them happily, then ran back into the forest.
Behind a young maple, Eynon thought he spotted a raconette, a small masked beast the size of a kitten with an oversized ringed tail and oversized curiosity to match. He tossed a piece of honey cake and half of his last slice of apple toward where the animal’s large copper e
yes were visible, then turned his attention back to Merry—and magic.
The listening spell proved easy to learn. It was similar to the hounds-and-crossbows spell and Eynon was a quick study. After the lesson, Merry and Eynon cast it on themselves for practice. They reluctantly left their sheltered clearing, but shared intimate whispers as they continued downstream.
Since their break, Eynon noticed there was more traffic on the river north of the gap. When he thought about it, it seemed only common sense. Wheat and oats and apples were fall crops and wouldn’t be transported from the upper reaches of the Rhuthro at this time of year, while men and military supplies would be heading to the earl’s castle from Tyford and smaller cities downriver. They passed several cargo vessels making their way upstream and waved to their navigators, since the arms of the crew members pulling oars were otherwise occupied fighting the current.
Eynon tugged his damp, holly-wreathed hat forward. The sun was getting higher in the sky and the day was warming up. He wished he’d brought a broad-brimmed straw hat instead of his high-peaked felt hat that offered little protection for his face.
Ahead, on the right, he saw two long, sleek boats pulled up on the muddy bank. They were black, narrow, and as vicious-looking as a pair of eels. Each eel-boat was barely wider than a man’s hips, but as long as their own cider-transport vessel. Six men stood beside them, scanning the river.
As Eynon and Merry neared, the five men—and one woman, Eynon realized—slid their boats out into the main channel. The twin eel-boats cut through the water like knives and their crews sculled briskly to flank the Applegarth vessel.
Now that they were closer, on his left and right, Eynon could see the men wore an odd collection of military cast-offs. Most had padded-canvas gambesons with heavy, stiff, boiled-leather paldrons and vambraces, but none of the pieces seemed to match.
The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1) Page 12
