“Not glamour,” Talfi said, looking up at her with a mixture of wonder and awe on his face. “Are we leaving soon? I’m trying not to go out of my head with worry.”
“We’ll leave as soon as the harbor guide— Wait!” Greenstone turned like a catapult in a turret and pointed at Danr, Aisa, and Talfi in succession. “Half troll. Human woman. Human man. Elven lover. No glamour. Vik’s balls! You’re the Hero of—”
Danr clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t! Don’t say it.”
Greenstone’s eyes were wide under the brim of her hat. But she fell silent, and Danr cautiously took his hand away. Greenstone drew them closer to the door of her quarters, or whatever they were called, and glanced about. “I’ve heard a lot of stories,” she said more quietly. “I want to hear the whole thing. A half-blood who … did what you did? You could help a lot of people, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Danr said.
“People don’t like our kind,” she said. “If a half-blood who saved the world and stopped the Fae from taking slaves spoke up in our favor, maybe people wouldn’t spit on us so much. And maybe we wouldn’t have to be so bitchy and nasty all the time to get anything done.” She raised her voice. “Roker! That foresail is crooked. Raise it right, or I’ll nail your balls to the helm!”
“How many of us are there? I thought my father was the only troll who could come out from under the mountain,” Danr asked, feeling a strange excitement. His heart beat faster. All his life, he’d thought he was the only one. The idea that there were more like him made him want to run and shout and look for more.
“There are hundreds of doors under the mountain, and even Queen Vesha doesn’t know all of ’em,” Greenstone said. “Look, there aren’t a lot of us half trolls, just like there aren’t a lot of half elves and half dwarfs and such, but we exist all right.”
“Half elves?” Aisa said. “The Fae glamours sterilize humans.”
“That takes months. You ask your lover boy when we get back, Talfi. A few citizens of Alfhame walk around with short ears under their hats, if you get my meaning. You know what it’s like to grow up half-blood, handsome. Sometimes you hate yourself and want to hide who you are. If you can.”
Danr nodded. He knew, oh yes, he did. The sun had half risen now, and the bright sky was becoming painful. He fished about in the sack Talfi had given him for his own hat and sighed with relief when the brim was shading his forehead.
“Any road,” the captain continued, “we’ll get under way as soon as the temple’s harbor guide gets here.”
“Harbor guide?” Talfi asked.
“Bosha’s Bay is filled with snags and sandbars, friend. And that channel in and out at the mouth is narrow as an eel’s ass. The priests of Bosha are the only ones who know their way around, and they charge your left nipple to pilot for you.”
“A fine way to put it,” said a deep, rich voice behind them.
Coming up the gangplank in flowing robes of white and pale blue velvet was Harbormaster Willem. His silver-white hair blew across his forehead, and his blue staff, topped by a gold dolphin with amethyst eyes, thumped the wood. Behind him came an entire retinue of beefy-looking priests, all clad in blue trousers and spotless white shirts. Sea met sky. Strangely, the smell of wet earth and clay clung to the them, and most of them had dirty hands. The priests folded their arms and waited patiently behind the man, who stopped at the head of the gangplank. Punsle, the worried-looking bald man, stood just behind Willem.
Danr stepped in front of Aisa and watched cautiously. Was nothing in his life simple?
“Harbormaster Willem?” Captain Greenstone sounded more than a little shocked. She whipped off her hat, so Danr did likewise, and the sun speared his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you. Give me half a mo’, and I’ll call my sailors to give you a proper welcome aboard.”
“No need.” The harbormaster boarded the ship and pointedly held out a fist adorned with his gleaming amethyst ring. Danr was in no mood, but he leaned down.
“It’s actually customary to kneel,” the harbormaster said. “You did it wrong before and looked foolish in the attempt.”
Danr stared at him. The harbormaster’s bearing had changed. He had been at least a little friendly at the prince’s gathering, but now hostility lurked behind his eyes, and he was deliberately putting Danr in a difficult position. If Danr knelt, the Hero of the Twist was showing subservience. If he didn’t kneel, he was showing a lack of manners. What was going on? Slowly, Danr got to one knee. The harbormaster gave a narrow smile. Danr took the harbormaster’s fist, and planted the wettest, sloppiest kiss he could manage on the man’s ring and fist. The harbormaster snatched back his dripping hand in horror. Talfi coughed hard to hide a laugh.
“It’s a surprise to see you again, my lord,” Danr said to him with a toothy smile, unable to say it was a pleasure.
The captain jumped in. “Might I ask what brings the harbormaster himself aboard my poor ship?” Greenstone seemed more than a little nervous, and this made Danr uneasy.
Punsle whipped out a handkerchief, and Willem hastily wiped his hand on it. “I’m here to pilot you out, of course,” he said with a false jovial grin that failed to match his deep, buttery voice. At least he didn’t seem inclined to offer his ring to anyone else.
“The harbormaster himself?” Greenstone said again, echoing Danr’s thoughts. “Is there a reason?”
“Are you asking me if I need one, Captain?” Willem replied levelly. “Perhaps you’re hiding contraband on this ship. Perhaps we should search it—and your crew. Thoroughly. We may need to pull the pegs out just to be sure nothing is hidden beneath the planks.”
“No need, no need, great lord,” Greenstone said, running her hands around her hat brim. “Whatever you say. I was just curious.”
“Keep your curiosity between your legs where it belongs, half-blood,” Willem said with a wide white smile. “Acolytes! Take the ship!”
The priests on the gangplank swarmed over the deck and into the rigging like locusts devouring a wheat field. They elbowed Greenstone’s crew aside, adding curses and blows when they didn’t get out of the way quickly enough. The ropes creaked in protest, and the sails shuddered. Greenstone looked about, trying to conceal her horror.
“Great lord,” she said meekly, “my own crew knows the Slippery Fish backward and forward. Maybe they could handle her with your men’s direct—”
Willem pulled a belaying pin from its socket and cracked her across the face. Greenstone’s head snapped back. On the deck, her sailors tensed and Aisa and Talfi flinched. Danr noticed for the first time that the priests were all carrying swords. They continued working, but he saw several of them touch their weapon hilts.
Greenstone staggered, then righted herself. A moment hung in the air, tense and angry. Then Greenstone bowed. “Apologies, great lord. Everything’ll be as you order.”
“Go to your cabin, troll.” Willem’s gray eyes raked her with flint knives. “And order your sailors to go below. We’ll handle the ship like real humans.”
“You heard the lord!” Greenstone bellowed. “Get below until you hear otherwise! Harebones—my cabin!”
The sailors, male and female, slunk belowdecks. Greenstone gave Willem one last look before retreating to her cabin with Harebones, the first mate, close behind. Danr and the others cast about at a loss, unsure where to go. Greenstone’s door clicked shut, and the priests rushed about the creaking, groaning ship.
“That’s how you handle a half-blood,” Willem said to no one in particular.
Danr’s hands twitched. For a wild moment, he considered snatching up the man and simply breaking his back. It would be easy. It would also be easy for the acolytes to bring him down with their swords. He let out a breath and forced back his temper. Aisa and Talfi exchanged nonplussed glances.
Willem ignored them and strode off, shouting orders to the men. Aisa pulled Danr out of the way, and he put his hat back on. Talfi followed. So did the golem.
&
nbsp; “A fine man,” she murmured. “What is he doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Danr rumbled back. “He was different at the Gold Keep.”
“It has to be something with us,” Talfi said. “It’s too big a coincidence. But what do we do about it?”
“I do not know.” Aisa chewed her lip. “Ynara broke her word, we do not know how to find the key, Ranadar is in danger of drowning, and now this.”
Danr put his hat back on and cracked his knuckles. “I could’ve thrown him overboard. Simple.”
“That kiss was sufficient,” Aisa countered. “Rolk only knows what his men would have done if you had given him a full bath.”
“So.” Talfi lounged against the rail. “Another half-blood.”
Some of Danr’s enthusiasm returned. “I know! I want to hear everything about her. Which side is which half? How did she become a captain? Where did she grow up? I’ve never met anyone like her before.”
“There will be time for that,” Aisa said shortly.
Danr cast an eye at her. Was she jealous? Hmm. For a moment, he was tempted to check her with his true eye. But once, long ago, he had done that very thing and Aisa had been deeply hurt by the invasion of her privacy. It had nearly destroyed their relationship. Danr had sworn he would never do it to her again, and so far he had kept his word. He wouldn’t break it now. He did want to ask her straight out if she was worried Captain Greenstone might steal his affection away, was readying the very words. Then he stopped. Not here. Not now. Not with the harbormaster tromping around and strangers everywhere and the golem within earshot. And, he had to admit to himself, it had become a habit over the last few months for the two of them not to ask such questions, and it was easier simply to stay quiet.
Aisa brushed nonexistent dirt from the front of her blouse. “I think all we can do now is wait.”
“It’s going to be a long wait,” Talfi said morosely.
The priests were more efficient than Danr expected. In a short time, the Slippery Fish was gliding carefully through the harbor with Willem’s long white fingers curling around the helm. A pair of longboats trailed the ship to bring the priests back to shore once they handed the ship back to her sailors. Ahead lay the long sword of land that sheltered the bay from the rest of the ocean. Seagulls flocked overhead, screeching high and free. Cool salt air washed over Danr’s face and threatened to carry his hat away. The boards rocked gently beneath his feet, and he kept one hand clenched firmly around a guy rope while his stomach bobbed up and down. He prayed he wouldn’t get seasick.
“The harbormaster wants to see you,” called a sailor. “Now.”
They climbed up to the helm, where Harbormaster Willem guided the ship across the harbor. The breeze tossed his silver hair about, and Punsle stood behind him, a worried shadow. Danr wondered, almost hopefully, if he was expected to kiss Willem’s ring again, but Willem didn’t offer it. Danr did remove his hat, and the sun speared his eyes with diamond knives.
“A great city, Balsia,” Willem said. “It used to be the crown jewel in an empire greater than any ever seen, back in the days of Alessander the Grand.”
“The man who turned back at Irbsa because his lover died?” Danr said.
Willem glanced at him, clearly surprised. “You know of him?”
“Death used him to lecture me on petty desires. When she tells you something, you don’t forget it.”
“Ah. Yes.” Willem’s fingers tightened on the helm. “Petty desires overcome big thinking. Do you know how Alessander conquered? He brought order.”
“Order,” Danr repeated, unsure where this was going. Why did so many people enjoy talking nonsense at him?
“He required streets to be built in straight lines, buildings done around square courtyards, people in castes so everyone knew their places from birth onward. Very orderly. No chaos. It worked beautifully.”
“Until his love died, and it all fell apart for him,” Danr couldn’t help saying.
“You understand perfectly!” Willem thumped his hand against the helm. “When chaos invades, order breaks down. Rules fall apart. No one knows what to do. A city can’t run this way.”
“It seems to move along,” Aisa observed.
Willem made an annoyed sound. “The economy is a mess. The army is undisciplined. The guilds try to pry every bit of power they can out of the crown. I try to bring order by regulating the harbor, but it’s a losing battle. That’s why I’m here, young half-blood.”
“I don’t understand.” Danr shook his head.
“I know about your quest to find the power of the shape. Sharlee and Hector Obsidia are friends of mine, and they’ve been obsessed with it for years.”
“That’s why you came out here personally?” Danr said. “To tell us this?”
“Hardly.” The Fish creaked, and the sails flapped a little. Most of them were down so the ship would move more slowly and let the outgoing tide do most of the work. “The Obsidia will do anything for that power. They’re both descended from families that used the shape before the Sundering. Sharlee wants it again because it’s her birthright—or she thinks it is. Hector wants it—”
“Because he thinks it will fill the hole inside him,” Danr finished.
“Don’t interrupt your betters,” Willem corrected, though the rebuke was idle. “You’re perceptive for someone of your background. At any rate, you’re right. Hector has squandered a trio of fortunes trying to find that secret, and Sharlee eggs him on. And they definitely shouldn’t have it.”
Aisa cast a glance down at Talfi, who was still staring out to sea with the golem behind him. “Not that I disagree with you, but why do you believe this?”
They were nearly to the gap between the spit of land and the shore. A temple sat at the tip of the spit, one made of gold and obsidian and dedicated to the warrior twins Fell and Belinna. Willem guided the ship with almost casual skill.
“They would misuse it,” he said, watching the water ahead of them. “Badly. You’ve seen their wealth and power. They trade in slaves, alcohol, weapons—and politicians. They don’t want to be known in public, so they quietly buy aldermen and nobility and even priests. Half the Diamond Court at the Gold Keep owes them money or favors, including the prince. If these two had the power of the shape, they would use it to control Balsia the city and eventually Balsia the country. The chaos would be incalculable.” He shuddered, and his gaze turned faraway, as if he were looking at a jewel only he could see. “This was a great city once, back before slums and smugglers and ships polluted Bosha’s beautiful harbor and turned it into a cesspool. Balsia could be great again, noble and orderly, if it had a leader who didn’t flinch from what needs doing.”
“And that leader would be?” Aisa asked.
“My lord,” said Punsle quietly behind them.
The harbormaster came to himself. “Perhaps it will be our good Prince Karsten. We can but hope.”
“How would the power of the shape let Sharlee and Hector conquer Balsia?” Danr asked. “So they could change into rabbits or snakes or chickens. Big deal.”
“You have to think big,” the harbormaster warned. “I’ve read the scrolls, and the power of the shape is more insidious than you know. Someone who has changed his shape can more easily share his power with someone else. Imagine if Hector enslaved a dozen shape-shifters and stole their power. Imagine if Sharlee could change other people’s shapes. Now imagine if they were the only people in Balsia with this power.”
“We would happily abandon this quest and go home,” Aisa said to Danr’s consternation, “if you could arrange for the Obsidia to release our friends. You seem to have an army at your disposal, and you do not fear Sharlee and Hector Obsidia.”
“I could do that,” said Willem, “but then you wouldn’t be able to bring the power of the shape to me.”
A moment of silence fell over them, broken only by the wash of waves and the snap of sails. Danr blinked at Willem in the hard morning sunlight
.
“You want us to bring the power to you instead of to Hector and Sharlee,” he said slowly.
“Obviously.”
“Why would we do that?” Aisa asked.
“For the greater good,” Willem replied easily. “Think big! If you bring it to me—to the temple of Bosha—the power of the shape will be controlled properly. The priests are in the best position to train new magicians in its use. We have all the old books and scrolls that refer to the power of the shape and how it works, even if the actual practice has disappeared. We have the money and the resources to ensure that word of the power spreads in a properly controlled manner. It would restore more balance to the world. Everything would be proper and fine, completely unlike the chaos Sharlee and Hector would bring if you gave the power to them.”
Danr closed his right eye, but it was hard to see on the harbor, with the bright daylight reflected off the surface of the water. Even so, he got a glimpse of Harbormaster Willem. The man stood firm at the helm, resolute and in control. Every stitch of his clothing ran in straight lines, every inch free of wrinkles. He stood with his head high, high up among his principles, which were more important to him than possessions, position, or people. He also wasn’t lying at the moment, but he would lie to people to keep his principles, indeed he would.
“He’s telling the truth, Aisa,” Danr reported.
“Can we trust him?” Aisa asked, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She had forgotten Danr would have to answer.
“Nope,” Danr replied. “He would throw us overboard in a moment to get what he wants, and he’ll betray his so-called friends the Obsidia for the same thing. That’s why he’s asking us. He’s betraying them for something higher.”
“Order,” Willem said, without rancor. “We must have order. You plan to introduce a new form of chaos into the world, but I will make it into a form of order.”
“You could simply stop us from going on this trip in the first place,” Aisa said acidly. “I cannot imagine that the death of an elf and an orc would mean much to someone like you.”
Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron Page 16
