City of Jade: A Novel of Mithgar

by Dennis McKiernan

  “What about the spanker, Cap’n?” asked Noddy.

  Aravan smiled at the cabin boy, who even now was showing promise of becoming a bosun. “Aye, Noddy,” answered the Elf, reaching out and tousling the lad’s unruly hair, “we’ll reef the spanker, too.”

  “Kapitan,” said Nikolai, “I t’ink you might talk to crew again about running cape. They no doubt like word straight from you.”

  A murmur of agreement rumbled ’round the table.

  “Aye, Nikolai, I had intended to. Assemble the men, and thou, Brekk, gather the Drimma as well. Shall we say at the change of the noon watch on the morrow?”

  Sleet pelted down upon the ship, while in the forward quarters below, Aravan stood on a sea chest and spoke to the Eroean’s crew, the weather too harsh to hold an assembly above. And as the hull clove through the rolling waves and brine billowed over the decks, all the Men and Dwarves gathered ’round their Elven captain, all but three remaining in the sheltered wheelhouse—Fat Jim and Wooly, along with Tarley.

  Aravan spoke of the cape and reminded them all of the weather at this time of year, for although each had been through this passage before, it was a year and a half past and in a different season. This time, as then, they would make transit from west to east, running with the wind, running with the gale. Aravan spoke of the ice that would form on the ropes, and of the driven snow that would blind them and weigh down the sails, if it should come. “Yet,” he said near the last, “we have made this run ere now. The Eroean is a sturdy ship, and ye are a fine crew. I fear not that we will see the Sindhu Sea in but a week or so. Still, I would caution ye to take care, for if any be lost to the waters, we will not be able to wear around the wind in time to save ye in those chill waves, and to do so would put the entire ship at hazard. So, buckle up tightly when up top, for I would see ye all when we’ve passed beyond the cape.

  “Be there any questions?”

  “What about the Grey Lady ghost ship?” asked Billy, the cook’s helper. “I mean, Captain, I hear she runs in weather like this.”

  An uneasy stir rippled through the crew, for well they knew the legend of the tatter-sail ship, ever cursed to ply these waters, ever searching for the owner’s lost son who had washed overboard in a wild storm in these waters.

  Aravan sought out Billy’s gaze and said, “I think the legend be false. Yet if true, and if the Grey Lady appears, then look the other way.”

  Now it was a stir of agreement that rippled through the crew, for everyone knew that if you didn’t look long at the ship, she would not claim your soul. On the other hand, if one got washed overboard and lost in these waters, the Grey Lady would stop and take the unfortunate one aboard to sail forever this frigid sea, especially in furious blows.

  “Be there any more questions?” asked Aravan.

  None had any, for they had made this crossing before, and so Captain Aravan called for a round of rum, his words met by a cheer.

  They finally entered the South Polar Sea, and around the cape they fared, and the freezing rain and sleet beat upon the masts and sails and rigging, and made the decks treacherous. Men spent as little time as possible above, and Fat Jim and Wooly and Tarley helmed the Eroean from the small, sheltered wheelhouse, rather than the aft deck.

  And the westerlies hurled the ship onward, her sails reefed half or goosewinged, and those nought but the stays, jibs, tops, and mains, the rest furled and stowed or reefed full.

  And the waves she rode across—or those that rode across her—were sixty, seventy, eighty feet high from trough to crest, or conversely eighty feet deep from crest to trough, depending on where the Eroean rode, as southeast and then east she ran.

  But at last the cape was rounded, and Aravan turned the Elvenship to east-northeast. Even so, sleet and freezing rain yet hammered upon the ship, but the farther north they fared the less ill the weather became.

  From the polar westerlies and into the roaring forties the Eroean sailed, and there came a day when she broke out into sunlight, and all the crew celebrated and stood adeck admiring the warm light and clear blue sky.

  Another two weeks found them wending among mountainous green islands, for they had come into the tea-growing slopes of the Ten Thousand Isles of Mordain.

  They spent nearly a month altogether obtaining what they had come for, and the crew reveled in shore leave, yet toiled when the precious and well-sealed cargo was laded.

  And then they made the long journey home, this time rounding the cape in the teeth of the wind.

  They brought back a ship laden with white tea from the slopes of a dormant fire-mountain on one of the Isles of Mordain, and no Rovers did they see when once again they fared through the Northern Strait of Kistan.

  Their next voyage took them to Ryodo, where they delivered fine Valonian horses to the royal court of the Emperor of that insular land.

  Throughout the following five years, they sailed west through the perilous waters of the Silver Straits in the South Polar Ocean to reach the Great Island in the Shining Sea. There they took on a single chest as cargo, a small cask filled with fire opals, a fortune in and of itself.

  They sailed north through the Shining Sea to the small island where Lady Katlaw lived in her tower, and they exchanged one of the opals for a deck of special cards for Aylis to use in her .

  In Bharaq, they traded charts to Dharwah, a map merchant in the port of Adras, where they took on a cargo of teakwood, to fare to the carvers and furniture makers in Lindor. While in Lindor they sought Captain Allson to redeem his promise of a meal and a drink, yet the Gray Petrel had been lost at sea and none knew the fate of the men.

  They made several forays inland at various isolated shores, where rumor said something lost or precious lay within. Here Lissa and Vex scouted as Brekk and the warband and Aravan and Aylis followed. Yet all they found were ancient ruins, usually nought but tumbled-down stones with nothing dear for their effort. Yet these expeditions along remote coasts were the principal reasons why the Eroean sailed the seas.

  As Aravan said to Aylis and Lissa one night in the salon, “It matters not whether the legends are true, for the seeking is the sum of the game. Had we wanted nothing but wealth, then merchants of the seas we would ever be, for with but a few trips of the Eroean we can each make a fortune many times over.

  “Nay, comfort and riches suit none aboard, not I, not ye, not this well-chosen crew. For we sail only to fund our quests, setting a little aside for the times after, when many of the crew will leave the sea and settle down to a more staid existence. But that is for later and not for now, and not for the times immediately ahead, for legend and fable yet call to this crew, sweet voices singing in our hearts, in our spirits, and drawing us on. And so we hie across the sea, the holds laden to the hatches, until we can go somewhere we are called, and mayhap we will find whatever it is that drew us there. If not, so be it, for other ventures lie beyond the horizon, their siren songs luring us on.”

  Lissa looked up from her jot of brandy and raised the tiny cup into the air. “I’ll drink to that, Captain. Lead on. Lead on.” She stood and then abruptly fell on her rump. She looked into her cup and muttered, “Perhaps I’ve had enough.”

  22

  Onset

  DARK DESIGNS

  MID SPRING, 6E7

  Nunde again locked himself in his quarters and once more quaffed the bitter brew. And after but moments he fell back as if dead. Yet his aethyrial self flew free, and for the fifth time in as many years, he arrowed east. He soared over land, and to his astral sight all shades and colors were reversed: dark was light; light, dark; crimson shone viridian; sapphire shone ocherous; amethyst, amber; ebon, alabaster; and the reverse. The night skies were bright and speckled with dark stars; the moon, black, reminiscent of Neddra. Faster than any eagle he soared, swifter than even a shooting star. And when he reached his destination, dawn at that place broached the horizon, the skies darkening, the leading arm of the black sun even then beginning to lip the rim of the wo
rld. Quickly, he flew to where a man slept, and there upon a workbench, Nunde’s aethyrial self saw that the labor had at last been completed.

  He swiftly flew out from there and to an adjoining chamber, where another man slept with a woman lying at his side. She gave a small start as Nunde entered, and he was careful not to let his spectral essence touch her. In but a moment, she settled back into sleep. Cautiously, Nunde merged with the man, but in a heartbeat or two he flew free again.

  Nunde then darted westward, for he could feel his aethyrial strength ebbing. Out from this land and over Xian and Aralan and down through Alban he soared, arrowing for Caer Pendwyr. At last he arrived, where he momentarily merged with yet another man, one well away from the palace, for he knew that place was warded against creatures such as he. Nunde then flew up and out and fled back to his vile sanctum ere his aethyrial strength gave out.

  He rested a full day and all the next, and then went to his laboratory, where he slew several Drik and took their essence into himself.

  Then he unrolled a map and called Malik unto him, and when the apprentice arrived, Nunde said, “My vengeance will soon fall due.”

  “Indeed, master,” said Malik, dreading what would come next.

  “It is time. Take the Drik and Chûn and Ghok and others that I have assigned to you and march east to here”—Nunde’s finger stabbed down to the map—“where you or my chosen one will slay Aravan and all those with him. I care not if he is mutilated, just as long as you bring his corpse to me.”

  And then Nunde laughed, Malik laughing with him, even as the apprentice’s gut churned with dread at what lay waiting at the place he was ordered to go.

  23

  Risky Business

  BURGLARS

  MID SPRING, 6E9

  Dogs. Rûck-loving, rat-eating dogs. Binkton slipped back down from the spike-fanged top of the moonlit wall to the shadow-clutched alley below. He came to rest beside his cousin. “You didn’t tell me they had dogs,” he whispered.

  “Huh?” Pipper looked up from the carefully coiled rope as he finished attaching a small grappling hook to one end, a hook with its tines padded.

  “Keep your voice low, Pip,” whispered Binkton, “else they’ll hear us.”

  “Who’ll hear us?” whispered Pipper back.

  “The dogs. You didn’t tell me they had dogs.”

  “Dogs?” breathed Pipper.

  Binkton growled low in exasperation. “Are you listening, Pip? There are dogs patrolling the yard—a couple of huge brutes with jaws that crush and teeth that bite. We fall afoul of those two, they’ll snap us up like we were no more than bits of bacon.”

  Pipper frowned and shook his head. “Dogs?”

  Through clenched teeth, Binkton hissed, “Yes, Pip, dogs; dogs you didn’t mention when we planned this.”

  Dropping the hook, Pipper began free-climbing the ten-foot-high wall by jamming his fingers and toes into the mortar cracks. “Are you certain? I mean, there were no dogs when I—”

  “Argh!” Binkton plopped down with his back to the wall.

  Moments later, Pipper dropped down beside Binkton and murmured, “Well, Bink, you’re right. There are definitely two big dogs patrolling the yard. And a new kennel off to one side.”

  Binkton sissed air out between clenched teeth, but otherwise made no comment.

  “They weren’t here when I scouted out the place,” breathed Pipper. “No dog poop. No kennel. Nothing. It’s not like I’d miss something like dogs.”

  “Oh, yeah? But miss them you did, even though you watched the house for five days.”

  “I did watch it for five days, Bink, but I swear there were no dogs. Me, I think they are new.”

  Binkton unclenched his jaw and drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Finally, he said, “Oh, Pip, I believe you. Maybe they are new, but it’s just that I’m frustrated. Rackburn is off to the Rivers End Theater, and we’ve not got a lot of time. And with dogs patrolling the yard, even if we escape their slavering jaws, they’ll alert Rackburn’s household, no doubt a bunch of Rûck-loving, rat-eating ruffians. That’d just put us in another pickle, and we’d not get Lady Jane’s money back to her.”

  Pipper made a gesture of negation. “We can’t let that happen, Bink. Let’s take another look at the situation.”

  Pipper started to climb, but Binkton sat still for a moment, brooding. Finally, with a sigh, he got up and followed Pipper, who at that moment gripped two spikes along the top and raised his head just above the wall to peer over. He quickly ducked back down and whispered, “Oh, lor.”

  “What? What is it?” asked Binkton, his voice a low mutter.

  “Another one,” murmured Pipper.

  “Another dog?”

  “Yes.”

  Grasping two spikes, Binkton lifted himself up to where he could see.

  Three huge mastiffs lounged near the rear entrance to the manse.

  Binkton flinched down.

  Once more Pipper raised up to study the scene. After a moment he murmured, “I think we’ve enough rope to reach the balcony.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “And I can cast the grappling hook over and snag the rail; then we’ll tie it off at this end on one of the spikes and walk across.”

  “Are you insane, Pip? You’re the acrobat, not me.”

  “Oh, Bink, walking a rope is as easy as falling off a log.”

  “Good example, Pip, ’cause I’d fall off at the first step. Besides, your rope and hook were to be used to get us up to the balcony only after we crossed the yard.”

  “But, Bink, that was just so we wouldn’t have to sneak through the house to get to the room with the strongbox.”

  “That was the plan,” said Binkton, “over the wall, across the yard, up to the balcony, through the window to the left, and to the coffer. Well, the dogs have put an end to that scheme, and put an end to your new one, too. I mean, even if I could walk the rope, they’d bark the moment you threw the hook, and that would bring out the ruffians to catch two ninnies: one walking a rope above, the other screaming and falling down into the jaws of the beasts. But even if I didn’t fall, don’t you see, Pip, no matter what we try, the dogs, they’ll raise a hue and cry.”

  Pipper frowned and then brightened. “You are right, Bink. But remember what Uncle Arley said about turning disadvantages into advantages, like turning hecklers into part of the act.”

  “So . . . ?”

  Pipper began easing back down the wall.

  Binkton followed, and when he reached the ground beside Pipper, again he asked, “So . . . ?”

  “So, bucco, we’ll turn those hecklers into part of the act.”

  “What in blue blazes are you talking about?”

  “Well, Bink,” said Pipper, grinning, “I know where we can get a couple of chickens.” And he started along the alley.

  Binkton momentarily stood still, but then as enlightenment dawned, he murmured, “Oh, I see. For a bit there I thought this might be another one of Pip’s harebrained schemes, but I think it might actually work.” Binkton hurried after his cousin. As he caught up, they looked at one another in the moonlight and smiled, on the verge of laughter. They’d get Lady Jane’s money back if it took all night.

  And as they strode on down the twisting way, Pipper fell into reflection. It was but some two and a half years ago—in early autumn, 6E6, to be exact—that they were on their way to make their fortune, and he wondered just how two buccen Warrows had ever managed to get from that beginning to this end, to this unseemly business of burglary. . . .