by Ben Cassidy
The harbor was just a collection of long, weathered docks. A cluster of old warehouses stood on the rocky beach. The path that ran from the dock up towards the town on the hill was covered by wooden walls like those that surrounded the city, providing a covered connection between the harbor and the town itself.
Tomas looked up to the right of the town towards another manor house that was half-hidden behind some tall evergreens. “Whose house is that?”
Kendril stared bleakly at the shape of the stone manor house. “That’s the Blackstone estate.”
“The other major family in Redemption?”
Kendril shrugged. “Last time I was here, anyways. The two families have been at odds for generations, each fighting the other for control of the town and the lumber business.”
“Looks like the Blackstones came out on top,” Tomas commented.
There was another cluster of logging and mill buildings near the top of the hill, just west of the town walls. Another long grade, like the one near the Ravenbrook estate, swept down the hillside towards the water below.
This one, however, was muddy and slimy with constant use. Even as they watched, several logs were being slid down the hill into the churning gray water of the harbor. The wooden shacks and buildings that sprouted on either side of the log road bled smoke into the sky from numerous chimneys. Figures moved in and out of the alleys and across the log road itself.
Tomas gave the shanties and cottages a frowning glance. “Looks like the bad side of town.”
“About right.” Kendril crossed his arms. “Cheap inns, poppy dens and cock-fighting rings with plenty of liquor mixed in. A log road tends to attract the dregs of society.”
Tomas glanced over at Kendril. “You think Bronwyn could be somewhere there?”
Kendril shrugged. “Not really her style. She’s always seemed to be drawn more to wealth and power and those who wield it. Still, coming to Jothland at all seems a little strange for her. She must have some kind of plan.”
Calls sounded across the deck as the ship prepared to dock.
Kendril turned back to Marley. “Get the bags, Marley. And make sure Simon is okay. He might still be a little seasick.”
The old sailor bristled. “You don’t have to order me around like some kind of Guild eunuch, Mr. Kendril. I ain’t your slave, you know.”
Kendril cocked a weather eye up at the stormy sky above.
Marley gave a strangled curse and scurried off towards the hold.
Tomas gave a disapproving shake of his head. “You’re really enjoying torturing that poor man, aren’t you?”
“He’s not nearly as fun as Maklavir, but he’ll do in a pinch,” Kendril said. He watched as the ship pulled into the long pier. “Besides, I could never get Maklavir to carry bags for me.”
Within minutes the ship had docked, and a gangplank had been thrown down.
The docks were pretty bare, and mostly utilitarian. Wet stacks of lumber rested on the rocky beaches, and longer logs floated in the harbor itself off to the west of the piers. The smell of dried kelp, salt water, and burning tar was thick in the air. The sound of shouting loggers, the ragged chorus of cutting saws, and the constant banging of hammers filled the rocky beach and echoed off the wooden warehouses.
Tomas swiveled his head around as he looked at the scene. “Let’s hope we don’t have to stay here very long,” he grumbled.
Kendril didn’t respond. He drew the hood of his cloak well over his head, casting a dark shadow over his face. He flipped out each of his pistols in turn, shielding the weapons from the rain with his gloved hand while he checked the powder and flint.
Tomas noticed the move. “Expecting trouble?”
“In Redemption,” Kendril said without a trace of irony, “it’s always best to expect trouble.”
It took several minutes to unload everything from the ship to the dock, with Marley complaining bitterly the whole way.
When it came turn for Simon to disembark the ship, the mule stopped and obstinately refused to get near the sling and hoist. No amount of heaving, shoving, or pushing could make the beast see any kind of reason, and supplies intended for the warehouses began to back up on the deck of the ship, along with the muttered curses of the impatient sailors. Finally Kendril produced a mushy apple that convinced the beast to be strapped into the sling.
Tomas gave his fellow Ghostwalker a questioning look.
Kendril gave a knowing wink. “Always like to keep an extra apple in reserve for emergencies.”
Tomas shivered in the rain. “That and pistol cartridges?”
If Kendril detected the sarcasm, he didn’t show it. “That and pistol cartridges.”
Marley staggered off the boat, panting comically as he carried several large bags. “My back is killing me, Mr. Kendril. I can’t carry all this. It’ll be the death of me if I do.”
“Really?” Kendril stepped over to the man. “Let me take some of it for you.” He reached down and snatched the metal whale gun from one of the packs, then slung it over his shoulder. “There.”
Marley licked his lips. “You’re a real gentleman, you are, Mr. Kendril,” he said drily.
“Think nothing of it.” Kendril started to walk down the rain-soaked pier. “Oh, and get Simon too.”
Marley cursed under his breath, then turned and tried to grab the mule’s bridle while still balancing the sacks.
Overhead came a rumble of thunder.
Tomas stepped up to Kendril. He looked up at the palisade-covered pathway that stretched up the hill. “So where do we start looking?”
Kendril pulled his hood further over his face. His eyes darted suspiciously around at the sailors and petty merchants that crowded the docks. “First thing we should do is find a place to hole up for the night. There’s only a couple inns in the town, and small ones at that.”
Tomas grunted. “Not much of a tourist destination, eh?”
Kendril gave a humorless smile. “We check the inns first, then start some low-key questioning around the town and the docks from there. Either way we need to keep a low profile here.”
Tomas watched as Kendril pulled his hood further over his face for the second time in less than a minute. “Yes, I can see that.” He caught the smell of smoked fish and sawdust drifting over the beach. “Two Ghostwalkers coming to a town as small as Redemption are bound to cause some talk, Kendril. I’d be surprised if the sailors on our ship haven’t started spreading the gossip already.”
“Well, we’ll do our best, then.” Kendril looked up and down the dockside, then back at Marley. “Hurry up, Marls. We don’t have all day.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Kendril. Right away, Mr. Kendril.” He struggled, trying to keep the bags he carried from falling while simultaneously pulling on the mule’s bridle.
Simon stuck his hooves fast on the wooden planks of the dock. He brayed angrily.
“Come on, you stupid ass!” Marley cried.
Tomas looked back down the dock. “Don’t you think we should help the poor fellow?” he said in a low voice.
Kendril shrugged carelessly. “It looks like he’s got things well in hand. Besides, it’s good for the two of them to bond like this.”
“He’s really having a hard time,” Tomas said doubtfully.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll figure it out. Besides, what could we really do to help?” Kendril pulled another apple out from his cloak pocket He rubbed it against his shirt, then took a big bite. “Come on. We have work to do.”
The rain had slowed down to a slight drizzle again by the time the three men and mule had made the long, muddy climb up the slope from the harbor to the town proper. Wood smoke stung their eyes even as the cold rain soaked their clothes. The sucking mud on the path upwards was so deep in places that all three men soon had brown slime smeared to their knees.
Marley complained loudly the whole trip upwards, pulling and tugging on Simon’s bridle as the beast fought him half-heartedly.
Kendril kept giving nervous
glances behind him, but Marley managed to keep the bags he was carrying out of the goop.
The palisades on either side of the path up from the harbor lacked the defensive towers that surrounded the town, but otherwise they were made of the same thick, sharpened logs as the wall around the city. The road from the harbor was a heavily-traveled one, and many sailors, merchants, lumbermen and travelers of all stripes brushed shoulders with the three men as they moved upwards.
There were animals as well. Some were horses or pack-animals like Simon, but chickens, pigs, and dogs ran loose in the mud as well. One black hound came at Simon with such an angry barking fit that the mule reared in fright and anger, almost dragging poor Marley to the ground. Tomas managed to catch Kendril’s arm just before he drew his flintlock pistol.
The streets in the town were not much better. Mud and deep rainwater puddles were the order of the day, creating an unappetizing slosh in the center of the street that was only slightly alleviated by wooden walkways on either side of the main areas of town.
Kendril wrinkled his nose at the smell of tanning leather and pig grease. He kicked a squawking chicken out of his way with a curse, and ducked under a covered porch out of the rain.
Tomas followed close behind him.
The buildings in Redemption were all wooden. They were relatively simple, and none was above two stories high. There was a trading post or two, what looked to be a brothel, a run-down looking hostel, and an old hunting lodge that looked as if it had been here before everything else around it.
Tomas squinted through the driving rain, ignoring the dirty hunters and loggers that pushed by him on the crowded walkway. “Where should we start?” he said to Kendril.
The Ghostwalker scanned the street of the town, thinking.
It had been a long time since he had been here. A lot had changed, but more had stayed the same. It was strange to be back here again, after all these years.
“Well?” Tomas repeated.
Kendril glanced down the street. “There,” he said, pointing. “Inn’s just around the corner there. The Three Sirens, if I remember right. With luck we might catch Bronwyn there. If not we need to get a place to stay anyway.”
Tomas gave a curt nod. “It’s a start, anyway.”
Kendril sub-consciously pulled his hood down further over his face, even though it was pulled down about as far as it would go already. He glanced nervously up and down the street. “It’s crowded out here,” he said. “We should get in out of the rain.”
“This stupid donkey!” Marley let fly a string of curses, trying to pull the obstinate beast up towards the walkway. “He’s a piece of work, Mr. Kendril, he really is.”
Kendril shot off the walkway like a bullet. He moved up to Marley and snatched the sailor by his arm.
The old man gave a cry of surprise.
Several heads turned in their direction, unshaven sailors and rain-soaked woodsmen watching curiously from the covered porches and walkway.
“Now listen here, you old fool,” said Kendril in a harsh whisper, his mouth right next to Marley’s ear. “That’s the last time you shout my name on the top of your lungs in this town, do you understand? In fact, that’s the last time you say my name here at all. As Eru is my witness, I’ll gut you like a fish the next time you say it.”
Marley opened his mouth wide, but closed it again with a snap. “Yes, sir, Mr.—”
Kendril tightened his grip on the man’s arm.
“Yes, sir.”
Kendril looked back at the crowded walkway.
The people had already lost interest. They were moving along again, or falling back into their bawdy jokes and loud conversations.
Kendril turned, the rain hammering on his raised hood and cloak.
Tomas had moved off the walkway into the muddy street. He crossed his arms, and gave Kendril a keen glance. “You afraid someone here will recognize you, Kendril?”
The Ghostwalker scowled angrily. He grabbed a sack off Marley’s back, and shouldered it himself. “That goes for you, too, Tomas.” His voice was low. “Don’t use my name.”
Tomas gave a mock bow. “As you wish, good sir.”
Kendril gave Marley a shove away from Simon, then grabbed the mule’s bridle himself. “Come on,” he said gruffly, “we’ve got work to do.”
The Three Sirens proved to be little better than a backwoods tavern with some beds to spare. The common room was filled with tobacco smoke and the smell of burnt sausage. The fire in the hearth was hot and blazing, but the chill of the early spring still lurked in much of the room.
The customers were mostly locals, though a few robed and silent southlanders, probably from Cayman or the Spice Lands, occupied a table in the back by the fire. Hunters, foresters, trappers and loggers all filled the tavern with their laughter, coarse jokes, and raucous card-playing. A couple serving wenches, showing as much skin and cleavage as possible while still remaining clothed, moved from table to table with mugs of ale and platters of bread and cheese.
It reminded Kendril a lot of The Laughing Dragon inn back in the Howling Woods. That had been a long time ago, though. The Three Sirens was certainly bigger, if not necessarily cleaner.
Kendril took a seat in the back, furthest away from the hearth, where the shadows were deepest and the cold sharpest. It was also the most secluded, which suited him just fine. He sat down in the darkest corner he could find and waved the approaching wench away.
She went with a disapproving frown and an upturned head.
“What did you do that for?” Tomas asked irritably. “I’m starving.”
“We find Bronwyn first, then we’ll eat.” Kendril looked around the common room carefully, one hand on the handle of his pistol tucked beneath his cloak. His eyes flashed back to Tomas. “Get us a room and find out what the innkeeper knows.”
“Yes sir.” Tomas gave a mock salute. “You going to order me around like you do with Marley the whole time we’re in Redemption?” He glanced out the window to where Marley stood in the pounding rain, trying to get Simon tied up to the post.
“Pretty much.” Kendril’s eyes fastened on a foaming mug of beer at a nearby table. He felt the desire stir inside of him, but fought it down. He didn’t want any alcohol clouding his thinking, not even in the slightest. Bronwyn came first. “Now hurry up.”
Tomas muttered something Kendril couldn’t hear. He got up from the table and headed towards the bar.
Kendril bit his lip in thought. Thinking of The Laughing Dragon again reminded him of Jade. He could still see her in his mind. Her head wrapped in a bandage, the bedraggled green dress she had worn torn and covered with mud.
Eru, but she had been beautiful. She was married now, a world away and Queen of Llewyllan. In all likelihood Kendril would never see her again.
The thought stabbed him like a knife. He pushed it as far out of his mind as he could. The desire for a beer was stronger than ever.
He tried to ignore the din of conversation all around him, the hammering of the rain on the dirty windows of the common room, the smell of unwashed bodies mixed with pipe smoke.
And then he saw her.
She stood by the fire, serene, her rich brown eyes fixed on him. Light chestnut hair flowed freely over her shoulders. Impossibly young, frozen in time. Beautiful and slender, just as he remembered her in his dreams. Her look was kind, but severe. Blaming. Accusing. She mouthed his name. It was a whisper, but Kendril heard it all the way across the room.
He jumped back from the table as if he had been bit. The chair clattered to the ground behind him. Instinctively he reached for one of his pistols.
A few heads turned in his direction at his sudden movement. There were a few snorts of laughter, some taunting jeers.
Kendril blinked, looked wildly around the room.
She was gone.
With a shaking hand Kendril picked the chair back up and set it aright.
She had never been there in the first place, of course. She was just a memory,
someone from his shadowed past.
Kendril rubbed a hand over his eyes and sat back down. He was more tired than he thought. Coming back here, to Redemption, must have been affecting him more than he realized.
Some ghosts wouldn’t stay buried.
“Are you okay?” Tomas came back up to the table, staring hard at Kendril’s white face. “You look like you’ve seen a—”
“Don’t say it,” Kendril snapped, with a bit more force than he intended.
Tomas held up both hands. “All right, all right. Just asking.” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “We’re in luck.”
Kendril looked up at the other Ghostwalker with sudden interest.
“Bronwyn passed through here, apparently,” Tomas said. He glanced hungrily at a passing platter of stew. “A few days ago. Innkeeper seems to think she was heading north.”
“North?” Kendril narrowed his eyes in thought. “Along the coast? There’s nothing up that way.”
Tomas gave an almost disinterested shrug. “I’m just passing on what I heard. Seems she was wearing a black robe with a white hood, of all things.” He chuckled. “Not exactly blending in.”
Kendril gave a slow smile.
Tomas raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Kendril got up from the table. “I know where Bronwyn is.”
Marley came tromping up to the table, soaked to the bone and tracking mud behind him. “Regnuthu take that mule of yours. He fights me at every turn, he does. Oh, but I could use a good cold beer and a hot bowl of stew right about now.”
“Tough luck,” said Kendril. He started walking towards the door. “We’re going.”
“Already?” Marley squawked. “But I just tied your blasted mule up!”
“Then untie him,” Kendril said sharply. He pushed open the tavern door, letting in a gust of rain and cold wind. “We have a witch to catch.”
Chapter 8
