It was toward twilight and the wind falling as the tall ships came up to cast anchor beside them, with pine-clad hills running up steep from the small fjord. Men began to bail the galley by pot and can; there was a shout with cupped hands across the wave and the Carrhoene captains would come aboard to seek their sister. Hunger woke; a search of lockers aboard showed none had thought to provision the galley since she was Permandene, so there was no bread, only some black murca-flavored olives of the south, with a little wine of the same.
Airar's first care was to send a couple of Mariolan wood-hunters to the shore to seek what they might find. The fishers set out a net or two.
The captains met on the afterdeck. Mikalegon said not a word but to confirm the allegiance he had given to Airar's leadership the night of the galley-burning, which left the latter with by far the most important band, but he played at modesty, seeking advice on what's now to do. Pleiander was for seeking some small city of the north, best Lectis Maxima, the old town which is across the river from the new city Minima. There were near three hundred blades all told, and a quick onslaught, with some help from the Iron Ring inside, should not find the place beyond being taken. There they could bid defiance to another siege, for he had heard the old town was a mighty strong place, builded on an outcrop of mountain —"and there'll be help from the new Lectis across the stream, or your Dalecarles are less for liberty than they seem to be." Evimenes laughed him down, saying sieges had not turned out so well for them that they should seek more. Meliboe would give no counsel on the ground they were now wandering adventurers to whom all counsels were alike thrown dice—he would take a divination.
"Nay," said Alsander. "I recall a divination of Os Erigu in flames, made for us on the journey thither. These prophecies fall too pat, bring on their own fulfillment. We cannot now lose more than we have lost here in Dalarna. My tale is to make straight for Permandos city, while Sthenophon's adrift in this cold north, and raise the Party of the Guilds against him."
That would have been too desperate for Airar, with two ships only that could make the voyage. Not Rogai, thought; he applauded, offering the amendment that their journey be broke at the ports or half-ports of Skogalang. "The Iron Ring has power there, and the Vulking strength has been drawn northward. Not to mention that Sir Ludomir Ludomirson's among the forest-masters, who is a councillor of the Empire and the House itself; a stirring man."
The meeting was breaking up on this note when one of the Mariolan hunters returned. Instead of meat, he brought with him a man of Norby, who had been fishing farther up the fjord, not a very clever carle, but had replied correctly to the song of "Geme, plange—." His tale was of Norby ready to rise against Vulking rule, and even of some of that kindred themselves discontented by Marshal Bordvin's wildness and hardness of heart, who would lead a wing of terciaries up to conquer in the Micton country in the wintertime, a thing unheard-of. Such merchants of the two cities Lectis as were of the Iron Ring had said patience, attending the issue of the siege of Os Erigu. They answered the Count's numerous requisitions with tales of nonpossession. There were few ships from oversea, and all commercials much in irritation. If one raised a standard with force beneath it, the cities Lectis might shut their gates against the red triangle.
The council of commanders sent the man back to his fishtraps and sat close on the benches to think new of their case, Rogai now turning to Pleiander's plan of a landing in Norby to raise a war there, and link up with the Korosh bands among the mountains, while one of the cities Lectis should hold the Vulking strength before it. Evimenes called this a silly thought; Alsander, too. The latter furnished sound reason as was his habit, namely that the city merchant-guilds were nowhere stout for the revolt, and these would be turned cold as Moon Mountain peak when they heard of Os Erigu's fall. "Where's our force to raise a standard? Three hundred men? Go to!"
"Better than three hundred against Permandos, hatchetnose. I wonder you do not tell the real reason why you wish to go back there," said Pleiander, somewhat tartly, "which is that you can have no joy from these Dalarna girls without paying for it."
"While you'd liefer stay here and play the trick of bumpboy-behind without pay," snarled Alsander, and they launched into a long, dirty argument, the first Airar had seen those Carrhoene brethren have, with Evadne sitting silent, eyes darting from one to another, and lips scornful. Rogai yawned openly; Airar said at last:
"Friends and sirs, this leads us where fox leads dog, that is, round and round the tree to nothing. Now it seems to me—if you will have my word—that we lack swords to raise a full war in any part. Nor are we like to gain them in Lectis now, where these turncoat merchant-guilds will find them a fondness for Vulking rule, now that Os Erigu's down—"
"It was the Mariupol merchant-guilds waged these!" flashed Rogai, flinging his hand toward the Star-Captains, but Airar: "No unfaming meant; and you shall let me have my say. Our evident need is people. It can be we shall gain some immediate in Skogalang, but more than that, we shall have Sir Ludomir Ludomirson, who is so great a grandee, and can make the ban of the Empire to be removed from us through those he knows in Stassia, the more since we hold the children of the Empire as hostage. . . . More, winter's on us, and the Vulking marchers will be locked by snow in these northern lands, since they have no ships, while we snug safe in the Skogalang woods. Yet even to reach so far we need provision, and my say is that you of Carrhoene shall take this galley openly to Lectis Minima with your people, wearing the standard as though it were still Sthenophon's, and obtaining our needful as an ally of Count Vulk."
There was a little chatter to and fro on this, Alsander calming to finger his chin thoughtfully and say it was a genial plan. With Bordvin in the north (Rogai added, changing advice like a weather-vane) they might obtain more ships and men too, from Naaros, the Isles of Gentebbi, or the Mariolan shore—"where they know now that Vulk's a scorpion, and ban or no, will join us." Evadne still said no word; it was therefore held a thing decided.
It had come on to snow in big wet flakes as they counselled; in the shallop during the exchange of ships, Aurea the princess would know where Airar was taking them, and with what intention. "Is it fair to treat us so, like dogs or dancing girls?" and: "Can you not let us free to be your embassy before Lord Vulk, who is a man reasonable that cannot love these strivings?" Some in the boat laughed to hear Vulk the Unreasonable called the opposite, but her voice held so strong a compulsion, almost like an enchantment, that Airar found it hard to reply or deny.
Argyra said at last: "Sister, you have some authority upon me as senior and by our father's will that I should attend you on this voyage, but there is one thing which is good for you to know, and that is I will wander vagabond across the world before following you to the court of this Count, while Sthenophon the tyrant sits his friend. It may be I am too much heiress to choose who shall wive me; but by the Well! I will say who shall not, or I will seek a convent and be the bride of God."
"It might be better if you did," flung Aurea, but there the conversation fell, for they were close aboard the Dragg, and Airar must see to such detail as who should have the watches and the cabin space. Erb was shipmaster, morose of air as he sent a man to climb the major mast and fix there Airar's cat-skull standard. Earl Mikalegon's eagle caught snow in its dejected folds from the other tall ship, for there was little air. The frowning weather and lack of gale were well enough for the galley, but made the other hard to move; night found the armada still un-far from the inlet, anchoring cold and without as much food as hunger desired. Airar shared his share with the Stassian sisters, of whom Argyra sat wrapped in an old ship's blanket, since she had let Aurea take the only cloak between the two. She, Mistress Gold-locks, whined of this and that—Airar thought how little her formal beauty was beside the gayer young sister!s mood, speaking of things like snow-time in Scroby, and not at all of war or politic or the burning castle and terrible night.
It was as though they had a treaty in avoidance. But this also Aurea s
poiled in the end by asking whether the Carrhoene girl had gone with her brothers or come aboard this ship, then ticked on before Airar could answer: "You are not to be so much censured in his matter of Sthenophon, sister-puss. The Sons of the Well bid us look on all Imperial races as one, but those of the Twelve Cities do often rouse me to shudder. Can one forget Coralis of Steliae, the baron's daughter, and that Phyladean husband of hers that kept her locked up in his old mouse-castle till she turned all pale and stupid? Though it was partly her blame, flaunting with the black-haired page-boy from—"
No doubt, thought Airar, she sought to be for the moment gracious. He stood, murmuring good wishes and a good-night; Argyra reached him her hand from under the blanket. A-deck the weather had turned again, cold and still after snow, and spots of star beginning to show through tears in the cloud—therefore a night for thoughts and slow, grave converse with a friend. But he had neither the friend nor the converse, feeling as though all emotion were burned dry out of him in the castle fire, so his mind would only run over and over things already gone, like a blind horse in a mill. He sought rest in a shut-bed forward, but this not to much purpose, there being little sleep for him before the tramp of feet above told waking day, and all night long monstrous vision-figures of Evadne, Mikalegon, Aurea, and others marched past his eyelids through flashing lights, no one he loved.
The morn was clear and mighty sharp, but with enough breeze off the land to drive the big ships somewhat. They made a good passage, the fishers wondering no little at the strange seamanship of these Carrhoenes with their galley, who'd run her well out to seaward with the wind behind, then unship oars and row back toward the coast again, so she progressed in slants, like a crab. At each approach could be seen the tall slopes of Norby standing up, covered with black-green firs upon which the unmelted snow shone in the cold light; but toward evening the heights began to tumble down, there were grey and brown ploughed fields that had not held
the fall except along hedges, and houses to see. One of the free companions said this change in the country meant early arrival at the mouth of Hrakra, on which the cities Lectis stand. The galley rowed before them under the lee of the vaster ship, and the Star-Captains said they would rather chance another day than this dark for their enterprise, so it was another night of short commons.
For relief of idleness of mind Airar went over to the galley. Mikalegon was there, a little recovered of his tone, laughing and all admiration for the manner in which the Carrhoene captains had blacked the white streaks in their hair to make them seem other than they were. Evadne looked the completest man of the lot; she had even broidered a wood-rat badge for her cap. The weather was on all thoughts, Mikalegon voicing fear that the wind would turn into one of the north gales out of a clear sky for which this region is famous. It was agreed that the two tall ships should seek shelter in the mouth of Hrakra and stand there anchored, but ready with some sails in handling and warengines cast loose to beat off pursuit, if pursuit there were. At the last minute and on his own thought, the decision was to take Rogai to the city with the rest; if the ruse failed it was he could seek all needful from the Iron Ring.
There was wind with the morning sun as the weather-prophets had said; the galley labored, running down to the river-mouth, where they wished her godspeed. The falcons from which Hrakra takes its name ogled them, screaming overhead; so did seagulls. Airar's own ship he had anchored near the north bank, and threw an outpost forward along the shore, watching; then himself stood by the rail to watch the river's rolling flood.
"It is not so blue nor so great as the Naar of Vastmanstad," he said to nobody, and was surprised to draw a reply from a Shalland man: "Nor so noble and friendly as our Vallingsveden," the which he had thought a very dirty stream.
Near time to go shut-eye, the galley came back, no doubt in anyone's mind of her success, for torches waved from her poop and men capered there while someone played a whang-whang instrument with strings. Rogai of Mariola shouted from her with joyous excitement:
"All Dalarna's up; the Vulkings fail!" As they munched bread and meat Alsander said he would not give quite so much.
"His face when he saw your hair," said Rogai. "Ho-hoho!" '
"What was his damned name—Rodvald?" quoth Pleiander.
"And the old devil's dead, never forget," said Rogai again.
"You are my instructors," said Alvar, and Evimenes: "Brothers, will you permit me tell this tale?" then launched into it without more:
"We rowed in; there was snow on the wharf and the welcome somewhat less than mere silence. Diades, that has the most southerly accent of our company, asks for the syndic of the provisioners' guild. A couple of carles with heads so white you could not tell whether they were that color from birth, or grim with old age, thumbed us the way, turning to spit as we passed. Did we take offense? Not we; we wore the wood-rat, and when that beast falls, the otter rises. Live Carrhoene!" He stood, slightly swaying, to drink, and all touched lips to cup.
"The way was thumbed to us; we went. It was a big man receiving us in his hall—oh, very corpulent, gold chain across his belly, and fur trimmings, not the simplicity of our syndics of the south. Looked on us not unfriendly, the old fart. 'Lord—' begins Alsander; 'Lard,' says he. 'When a man lords me these days, I m being larded for a roast."
" 'We are your lordship's allies,' says brother Alsander, 'that have nor lards nor roasts to fill our bellies as we siege down these pirates that vex you; and will accept more courtesy.'
" 'Hear a strange thing,' says cushion-ribs. 'I hadthought it was victual you desired more than sweet words,' he says, and begins twisting his fingers in his belly-chain. 'Well, where's your authority?'
"Alsander says we were soldiers of the realm and the Well, come far to serve under authority of Marshal Bordvin, and needing no authority beyond that.
" 'Marshal Bordvin, ha!' says our man, and looks very sidelong out of his eyes, sniffing. 'Then you will have his signet or the seal of it,' he says, 'for he knows I cannot give you the Count's good bread without.' This was warrant enough—"
Said Alsander: "Warrant enough for me to seek more time and knowledge. Clearly there was a tort somewhere to this syndic's vitals. I played him like a fish to learn the reason, watching his dewlaps flutter as we argued. There was a writer or two in the background, eyeing our process loathingly. He finally admits that he can give a sheep or two and maybe a dozen sacks of meal, when I begin to murmur about fighting men hungry and how they take what they might need; but of wine had he none. Seemed curiously desirous to hear more of the siege, and myself became curious for his curiosity. In the midst of all this appears Master Rogai—"
Rogai: "With two archers of the Vulking guard as footmen."
Evimenes: "Footmen! It was headsmen they wished to be; could feel my own gorge wither on the way they looked so longingly at yours."
"The tale," said Airar.
"Sir pudge, the syndic, turns pink and blue. 'What's here?' says he. 'Traitor taken in the article,' say the archers. 'The deserion says you're to judge him in office of senior syndic, since the Baron Barrilis was called away on business of the realm by a messenger that came yester-even.'
" 'Where's the matter evidential?' says the syndic. 'Evidential!' says one of these archer-people. 'You do not need more; you have the deserion's word. Would you call him to a common court like a Dalecarle?"
" 'I have not the deserion's word,' says this Rodvald. 'I have the word of a pair of snotty archers.'
"They lower on him and say a thing or two more, and it is almost swords. He looks glum, but sticks to his way, protesting it is high orders—and all the while Master Rogai stands there, unconcerned as a cat, humming a music to himself."
Said Rogai: "Because I could see what you could not; that our pot-bellied friend was a friend truly, with a small ring of plain iron on the seal-chain he kept twisting between his fingers. So the music I hummed was 'Geme, plange, moesto mori.' I doubt it was the first time he'd been called on to do, rather th
an promise, for the cause; he quivered like a jelly."
"Alsander saw the ring," said Evimenes. "Was it not he who said as soon as the archers left to seek their more authority: 'Lord, if you have no wine, may I at least crave water?' and going with one of the young writers to fetch it, returned with the stain washed from his hair, so the star of our birth stood visible?
" 'Carrhoene!' says our fat friend, looking at him, with teeth knocking together like those bones the Dzik dancinggirls use; then looks from one to the other of us, taking a count. 'Lord, your joy to see us is well dissembled,' says Alsander.
" 'As would yours be in my place,' says he. 'Dear Heaven, witness! I that am senior Syndic of Lectis Minima would give up fortune to be made junior 'prentice, for we in this town are like to have, not Vulking Allies, but Vulking tercias, in a mood full wild, before the moon has changed her form. And now with you here— with you here—'
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