Jo-Dal accepted the telescope from Taggart and looked for himself. “Yes, and I think I know what the bad news is. There is no way we can approach them in daylight.”
“Correct,” Taggart answered. “So we must somehow take a thousand warriors through two days of travel at night and use no lights or campfires.”
Jo-Dal snapped the glass telescope shut. “Why is it that things can never be easy?”
***
On the second day after the incident at the slave auction the door above the women opened, and Tallun made his way into the cellar followed by two of his men. Dwan was sitting on a bench leaning forward so her damaged back would not touch the wall. She noticed that Morlee and his men were not with Tallun.
Tallun turned to look at every woman in the cellar, his eyes coming to a stop when he saw Dwan.
“Be quiet and listen to me. I want no interruptions.” The last part of his announcement was directed at Dwan. “Because of the outrageous actions of one of you (another look at Dwan) the plans to sell you while in Kylee have been canceled. Instead we will take you to the port of Altaan where the selling of slaves, especially female slaves, is well established.” He gazed at every person in the cellar to make certain they understood. “If any of you have plans to repeat your previous behavior you should bear in mind that the slave markets we will be using are very experienced in managing bad behavior.” He looked at Dwan. “They are not above cutting one throat in order to save a dozen. Bear in mind that we will be selling you all in a group. Once we are paid we have no interest in what happens. Sleep well, we will be leaving on the evening tide in two days.”
He stood for a while as if he expected some reaction other than silence, especially from Dwan. When none came he turned and clattered up the stairs.
They heard the door shut and lock. All of them quickly gathered around Dwan, asking her what they should do. Her status as the leader of the other twenty seven women was now firmly established. She held up her hands.
“I can’t make your decisions for you. In two days we will be marched to their ship and taken to another port. Once there we will most likely have only two choices; compliance or death. A decision such as that can only be answered individually. Each one of you has to decide for yourself.” She smiled and looked at all of the women standing and sitting around her. “We are women of Olvion and Aspell. I am sorry that you are in this situation, but I can think of no one else I would rather face this with. No one can condemn you if you face slavery and life over defiance and death, but for myself, I will never submit to the humiliation. I love one man, and no other will ever touch me. If it takes death for that to remain true, then death it shall be.”
***
Tinker saw the girl approaching with Pan riding her shoulder. She leapt from her Tag’s lap to the ground and sent Pan a wave of happiness. He sent her one back in reply. When the girl sat beside Tag, Pan jumped to the dirt, and the two nuzzled each other in welcome.
They engaged in their version of happy play which consisted of chasing each other around in circles and in larger orbits while still remaining close to their humans. After a few minutes of such interaction they wrestled for a moment or two and then just quietly lay beside each other.
Tinker cast out emotions and images to convey her worry about the events which were to come. So far the only danger they faced was Pan’s climb of the cliff. He had been helpful to the girl, but Tinker was not certain that the climb was the reason for his tasking. The Awareness was not known to assign simple or brief obstacles to be overcome. Tinker felt that more perilous duties lie ahead for her mate.
For his part, Pan emitted a wave of calm and reassurance. His emotional projections reminded her that his task was important to the health of this world. He was only one being and, if called for, he would sacrifice his life in order to accomplish his mission and leave Tinker in a better place. Additional projected images of the past reminded her of the dangers she had accepted and the fact that accomplishing her task had very nearly killed her. Such was the life of a white Mountain Child.
There was a psychic silence between them for several minutes. Tinker looked to the two humans and wondered how events had transpired to find her and her mate together on Pan’s task with her Tag. Her instincts were telling her that she should stay with her Tag even though it was almost certain that Pan and the girl would be facing more danger. She was acutely aware that she had not been given a second task, she had simply been made aware that her human was with Pan’s human on their way to face circumstances which impacted this world.
By reading the minds of the two humans earlier, the Mountain Children had discovered that they were going on a journey over the water that would take them to another great expanse of land. That land would contain many dangers. What they did not know, what they could not know, was what lay ahead of them.
Tinker looked over at her beautiful Pan. He loved his new name, and she loved the connection to the name she had been given. She realized at just that moment, however, that, unlike the Tinkerbell after whom she had been named, she would not be able to help her Pan on this task. Pan would never accept her assistance. This was his tasking. He had been waiting for it for far too long. Since the Awareness had not told Tinker to help him he would insist on venturing forth alone.
Her reverie was interrupted by a wave of projected affection. She turned her head to see Pan lying with his head on his paws watching her. She returned his radiated emotion and nuzzled his cheek. They exchanged soft trills and put their heads down before drifting off to sleep.
***
Fauwler sat hunched over in the bow of the two-man boat. Rowing into the harbor from out at sea had been a harrowing experience. Mal had insisted on being the second man in the boat.
The tiny boat had been used only because anything larger would be more likely to be spotted entering the harbor. The sea had punished them for their arrogance in daring to make such a journey. They had been knocked back and forth and came near to being capsized dozens of times. Now they were in the calmer waters of the approach to the harbor. Both were glad they had elected to wear oilskins because they would have been soaked had they not.
They spied a small inlet that ran off of the side where the reeds grew taller than a man. They silently guided their small craft into them. The boat was dragged as far out of the water as possible. Mal smiled at Fauwler.
“Your orders, Captain?”
“Actually, I will let you decide what comes next. You can take the boat and return to the ship or you can accompany me. To be honest, one course is as dangerous as the other.”
Mal looked back to the sea. “”If you please, Captain, I would choose to do anything to avoid going back out there in this boat.”
So the two of them left their oilskins in the boat and set out on foot toward the town. The sounds of revelry were discernable from a long distance. Kylee was a city of much celebration with the inhabitants fully embracing the freedom that their lifestyle offered. Soon they were walking through the cobbled streets. Both wore stocking caps of the kind that were common among seamen. Fauwler had his pulled low over his brow to hide his identity. As a captain and a former member of the Council of Captains he was much more recognizable than was Mal.
The two found the tavern they were seeking and stepped inside. There was no door, just a canvas sheet that hung over the opening. Inside was a noisy, jubilant crowd. Loud conversations, fits of laughter and arguments assaulted their ears. Fauwler chose a table far over to the edge of the establishment. Mal went to the board that was resting on barrels and came back with two dripping mugs of ale.
“Just who are we looking for Cap…?”
Fauwler stopped the man’s sentence with a finger held over his lips. “Call me Bosun,” he whispered. The name “Bosun” was derived from the proper title of Boatswain, the man appointed to keep order aboard ship. The men at sea had shortened it to former.
Mal mentally kicked himself for such a mistake. He looked around to
make certain he had not been overheard. It did not appear that he had.
“So, Bosun, who are we looking for?”
“No one in particular. This tavern is frequented by persons who share many of my sentiments regarding the governing of Kylee. Let’s sit back for a while and just enjoy these fine ales. I confess I need a little time for my stomach to settle after that trip in.”
Mal laughed. It was customary for seamen to deny any touches of seasickness even though there were many times that the sea had everyone, including the Captain, hanging over the rails.
The two men sat for hours watching the crowd. Mal made two more trips to the board for refills. The attending shopkeeper refreshed their mugs by dipping them into a foaming bucket.
They were halfway through their latest refill when the curtain was pulled back, and three men walked in. The first one through was a large man wearing a seaman’s coat and having a large red gem in his ear. His hair was long and tied back with a length of twine. He examined the crowd and his eyes lingered on Fauwler and Mal for an uncomfortable moment. Then he led his two companions to the last unoccupied table in the room. When they sat, one of them went to the board for drinks. The big man took another look back at them.
“Bosun…” Mal began.
“I see him. Relax and drink your ale, Mal. It would be a shame to waste it.”
The three new arrivals spent a half hour drinking and talking. The bigger man continued to cast looks over his shoulder at the fugitives. Finally he spoke to his friends and stood. He walked over to Fauwler’s table and sat.
“You do realize that I could enrich myself considerably by calling for the patrol?” he asked.
“True,” Fauwler replied. “But, then all would know what you did, and you would never again be offered a berth on any respectable ship.”
The man laughed and held out his hand. “By the Hosts of Harbors, how are you man?”
Fauwler smiled and gripped the man’s wrist. “I am well, Baynor, and I see that your chosen profession has been kind to you.” He pointed to the red gem in the man’s ear.
“This? I’d like to say that it is a real firestone, but I would be lying, and we all know that pirates never lie.”
Fauwler laughed. “Have you sailed with Mal?” He nodded to his comrade.
Baynor looked at Mal and smiled. “I think I have. Isn’t he your first mate?” He gripped Mal’s wrist.
“It might be prudent if we kept our voices low and our titles unspoken.”
Baynor looked back at Fauwler and around the tavern. “Agreed. So now, are you going to tell me why you have risked sneaking back into Kylee?”
Fauwler smiled. “I will indeed, old friend.”
***
Taggart, Jo-Dal and Spall sat in a circle ‘enjoying’ a cold dinner while they planned. They chewed dried swine meat and smoked fish interspersed with frequent gulps of water to get the food down. For once, Taggart was without Tinker. When he was leaving for the meeting she let him know that she would prefer to stay back at his camp with Toria and Pan. He was surprised at how naked her absence made him feel.
“So, as I see it,” Spall said, “the problem we must solve is how to get our warriors in position without being seen by the pirates who are manning the watch stations on the cliffs that overlook the entrance to the harbor.”
Jo-Dal nodded. “Are we in agreement that the only possible way is to send in a smaller force and silence the sentries before bringing in the main body?”
The other two signaled their agreement.
“The one advantage,” Taggart pointed out, “indeed the only advantage is that they will be expecting problems from seaward, not from behind them. The biggest disadvantage is that we have no idea what preparations they have made to sound an alarm. They probably have a bell or a gong, but they may have something entirely new and effective. We will have to get closer in order to determine what we are facing.”
Jo-Dal spat out a mouthful of dried fish. “By the Stars! There is not enough water in my jug to wash this down.” He looked back to his friends apologetically. “Forgive my outburst, Warriors. I have always disliked cold camps.”
“No apologies are needed my Aspellian friend. I dislike them also,” said Spall. “I agree with our large companion here, we must somehow get eyes on their base and see for ourselves how seriously they view the possibility of invasion. If they are well-trained they will doubtless have a man stationed at all times by the bell or whatever they have.”
“I don’t want to be overly optimistic here,” Jo-Dal observed, “but these are pirates. I would hope they are somewhat less serious about their duties than are our warriors.”
Taggart sighed and tossed away the remains of his meal. “Let us not forget that Captain Fauwler is also a pirate, but he obviously had military training.”
They all three grew quiet as they digested all of the information.
Taggart broke the silence. “I have some experience in night raids. More importantly I have a man among us who is a genius at getting into an enemy camp unseen. I think we have a chance at pulling this off, but I have another issue to discuss. We should be careful not to lose sight of our purpose for being here.”
“Yes,” Jo-Dal said. “The captives.”
“Indeed.” Taggart shifted forward until he was on his knees. “There is no victory in taking Kylee if the women are not freed. To do that we must somehow find them and keep ourselves aware of their location in town. Perhaps we can even send in a small group to defend them until the battle is over.”
Spall looked at Taggart and tried to convey his next question in a sympathetic manner. “Your proposal supposes many things, Tag. We do not know if they are all together or even if they are still in Kylee.”
“Spall makes a valid point,” Jo-Dal agreed. “If they have already been taken elsewhere then this becomes no more than a punitive expedition. And, of course, it also makes it possible for a change in their government. That may turn out to be a good thing, but it may also be that we are being used by the good captain to further his own political ambitions.”
Taggart looked off into the darkness. “Yes, all of those things are possible.”
The following evening Taggart and Markex, the former ranger and knifeman, crawled on hands and knees to the top of a small hillock which overlooked the emplacements of the catapults and trebuchets. The night was conveniently dark with both of the moons covered by dark clouds. Below them they saw and heard the harbor sentries standing their watch. They were a noisy bunch, laughing, shouting and playing games of chance. There were numerous torches and glow bulbs on poles lighting up the area. The entire arrangement brought a smile to the faces of the two spies. The abundance of light would kill the guard’s night vision, and the noise would cover any approach. They could not have hoped for a better situation.
It took them some time to discover the location of their alarm. It was a large ship’s bell that was mounted on a beam stretched between two stanchions. To Taggart’s relief there appeared to be no one near it. In fact the bell was quite a distance off from the main body of the defense stations. He was not surprised. These sentries were here to guard against an assault by sea. Approaching ships could be detected while miles away. There was simply no need for the alarm to be manned at all times. Satisfied, the two scrambled back down from their perch.
Protected from view by the hillock Taggart turned to whisper to Markex that they should return to their camp.
***
Zalman led Ruguer back to the same hall in which he had addressed the Northland Parliament the day before. It was now empty save for one man who sat at a table in the middle of the room. Zalman opened the door and gestured for Ruguer to enter. “If you please, Lord King, your Royal Bodyguard can wait out here with us so that you can have sufficient privacy to discuss urgent matters of state.”
Ruguer indicated his agreement. The doors closed behind him. The man at the table stood, and he saw that it was the man named Norcum.
“I bid you Welcome, Your Highness. Would you honor me by joining me?”
Ruguer strode over to the table. “Good Member, while we are alone here it would please me if we used names, no titles.”
Norcum smiled. “Indeed Ruguer. We must discuss important matters. Please sit.”
Ruguer did so, stretching his long legs out in front of himself. By habit, before he sat, Ruguer looked about himself, searching for any signs of an ambush. He had lived a long life for a warrior, and he had accomplished that feat by never taking chances.
Norcum looked at him for a few seconds as if taking his measure as a man. “I assure you, Ruguer, you are safe here. I sit here today as the highest ranking official in this kingdom. As you have no doubt been informed, the administration of King Minos has been suspended. Northland has many difficult decisions ahead for our citizens.
“As you probably gathered yesterday, it is fairly certain that our king and his high officials have been mishandling our treasure. To be blunt, they were stealing from their own kingdom. The amounts that we have discovered as being misappropriated are staggering. I confess I am at a loss as to what they planned to do with so much. Even if Minos were to lose his next election he would draw immediate attention should he try to spend such large amounts.”
Ruguer nodded. “Greed is like an infection. If not treated early it will grow steadily more serious until it kills the entire body. I have seen this type of behavior by minor officials in our kingdom. They convince themselves that they are far too clever to be discovered. When one is consumed by greed whatever amount they steal never seems to be enough.”
Norcum sat back in his chair and sighed. “Indeed. I have been authorized by the Parliament to tell you that the recovered treasure will be applied immediately to the support efforts of Olvion. Food and materiel convoys will begin travel to your kingdom on the morrow.” The older gentleman looked at Ruguer with a sad smile on his face. “Removing Minos from power will not be a happy chore. As we informed you yesterday, he was almost removed after the Great War, but the citizens thought it best that he serve out the remainder of his term, which would have expired in two more seasons. Minos would have enjoyed an honorable place in our history in retirement. Now he will forfeit his pension and will most likely be banished or imprisoned. It is sad indeed.”
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 36
