The Exile and the Sorcerer

by Jane Fletcher

  Tevi paused and looked back along the squalid, filthy street. There was little she would miss about the town. Eventually, she emerged from the smothering crush of houses onto the open dockside. The usual assortment of people was visible in the pools of light from oil-soaked torches. Guards patrolled the warehouses; vagrants curled in corners; and a few drunk sailors staggered by the whores trying to attract their attention. Farther down the quay, dockers were loading a ship, working into the night so the vessel could depart on the dawn tide.

  Tevi passed a lamp that smoked and guttered in the offshore wind. She stood on the pockmarked flagstones and breathed in deeply. The rising moon reflected off bands of luminous surf. The sound of the waves was gentle, calming, and somehow honest.

  Tevi resumed her march along the dock. She jumped over a coiled rope and rounded the last warehouse. Her boat was moored less than twenty yards along the quay, although it was hidden between the larger houseboats. For once, the east wharf was peaceful—enough for her to hear the desperate sobbing from the depths of a rubbish pile. The sound of crying was not uncommon. Tevi intended to give only the briefest glance in passing. She had no wish to be drawn into the petty feuds between the inhabitants of the houseboats.

  The source of the noise was a child of ten or so, huddled between two broken crates, head sunk on knees. The image of pitiful misery brought Tevi to a halt. All Aigur’s advice told her to keep on walking, but her sense of caution was dulled by the beer.

  She went over and knelt. “It’s not that bad, surely?”

  A tear-streaked face was raised to hers. The first thing Tevi realised was that the boy was not from the boats. He was too clean and well dressed. He gulped for air, but “Lost” was all he said.

  “And how did you get lost?” Tevi asked gently.

  “Don’t know.” The downturn of his eyes suggested that this was not the entire truth.

  Tevi sat back on her heels and considered the boy. The townsfolk were always ready to leap to the worst conclusions. Tevi could expect few thanks and even a charge of kidnapping if she were found with the child, yet her thoughts drew her back to the islands, where everyone was known and recognised. A stray boy would be quickly taken back to his family hall. Tears came to Tevi’s eyes as she wished she could be a child again—that somebody would come and take her home.

  Tevi stared at the dark, menacing bulk of the town spread before her, full of locked doors and strangers. She took a deep breath and held out her hand, saying, “Come on. Let’s go and find your parents.”

  *

  All along the wharf, decayed jetties projected over the polluted waterway. These were joined by lashed-together catwalks that formed a web of pathways between the decrepit assortment of boats. The rough-cut planks were covered with a slippery film of algae that made them treacherous to walk on—doubly so by night.

  After instructing the boy to wait on the dockside, Tevi sidled out along the rotten timbers. Her small boat was moored on the seaward side of the swaying mass, between two derelict river barges that each housed several families of dock workers. The jetty swayed beneath her feet as the larger boats were pulled by the surge of the waves, drawing tortured groans from the piles driven into the seabed. Tevi reached the point where her boat was tethered. The tide was ebbing, and her boat was rocking gently several feet below the level of the jetty. She gripped hold of the mooring rope in one hand, then swung over the edge and dropped into the open end of the hull.

  The boat was now her home. The mast had been lowered, and a waterproof tarpaulin sheet was draped over it as a roof, protecting the rear two-thirds from the elements. There was just enough space to crawl under the canvas, but it was adequate for her needs, particularly when judged by the standards of her neighbours.

  At the rear was a heap of blankets and spare clothes, under which Tevi hid her weapons. Her hand closed around the scabbard of her sword, but she hesitated. Aigur had given lurid warnings of the dangers one could find roaming Torhafn by night. Tempting though it was to take the sword, it would be better to avoid confrontation. A visible weapon might attract more attention than it deterred. The best defence lay in her coarse-spun clothes, soiled by work in the market. She hardly presented the appearance to attract the attention of the professional thief and should not need a weapon to deal with any amateur opportunist.

  Other considerations came to mind. Tevi peered from under the tarpaulin. Through the piles of the jetty, she could see silhouettes moving against the night sky. In what little honour they showed, the residents of the wharf did not steal from one another, but Tevi placed no trust in this honesty. She suspected it was only because the boat people owned nothing worth stealing. Since she could not guard her boat by day, she avoided displaying the few valuables she possessed. Tevi returned the sword to its hiding place and took instead a long knife, which she slipped inside her jerkin, out of sight.

  She rejoined the boy, and the pair of them walked back along the quay, leaving tightly packed houseboats behind. To their left, the black ocean stretched out into the night. The cold wind carried the sound of unseen waves crashing against the crumbling harbour wall. They passed two figures arguing in a doorway and another staring bleakly out to sea.

  On the western wharf, there was a scrum of activity beside the berth of a seagoing merchant vessel. Relays of dockers were manhandling bales and crates into the ship’s hold. Another group stood nearby, awaiting fresh instructions while warming themselves around a fire and shouting humorous but impractical advice to their fellows. The flames snapped, sending a stream of sparks into the night sky. Hunched at one side, an old woman was stirring a large pot of stew. She was filthy, wrapped in layers of rags, but the smell of the food was tempting. Before going any farther, Tevi thought it might be wise to soak up the beer she had drunk.

  Tevi stopped at the woman’s side. “Is the stew for sale?”

  “It’s for the loaders...counts as part of their pay.” The old woman glanced at Tevi. Her voice dropped. “Why? Did you want to buy some?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Well, as a favour, I can let you have a couple of portions for a tin half.”

  “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

  “I made the stew. I can sell it, but don’t let everyone see. I don’t want the whole dockside bothering me.”

  Tevi passed over the coin without comment. With the two bowls in her hands, she nonchalantly strolled to a spot behind a mound of cargo, obscured from the view of anyone aboard ship. Of course, the woman was planning on pocketing the money, and the term ‘whole dockside’ referred specifically to the work overseers, who would be angry if they knew—not because the woman was selling what was, technically, their employer’s property, but because they did not get their cut of the profit. It was the way things worked in Torhafn.

  Tevi and the boy sat on an empty crate and sipped the hot stew, using crusts of stale bread as scoops. The stew was highly spiced—probably to disguise its contents. Despite this, the food was welcome, and its warmth offset the night’s chill. The boy’s spirits had improved, bolstered by the upturn in his fortune. His eyes fixed on Tevi.

  “I know you. You’re the strong porter from the market who unloaded our wagons. My name’s Derrion, but everyone calls me Derry,” he said happily.

  “And everyone calls me Tevi.”

  “Is that your full name?”

  “More or less.” Her birth name was something Tevi was happy to have left behind on Storenseg.

  In the light of the fire, Tevi also recognised the boy, despite the dirt and the streaked lines of tears that now adorned his face. His parents had been wealthy foreign traders and, to judge from the extra payment, more generous than the local townsfolk. They might even be grateful for the return of their son.

  “Do you have any idea where your mother and father might be?” Tevi asked.

  “Probably at the inn.”

  “Which inn? Can you remember its name?”

  The boy consid
ered the question gravely. “No.” After a moment’s thought, he added brightly, “There was a sign hanging outside, though.”

  “What was on the sign?”

  “It was a barrel.”

  “I think you’ll find every inn in Torhafn has a barrel outside as its symbol,” Tevi said dryly.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Derry took a mouthful of stew and grinned. “I’m not being much help, am I?”

  Tevi tried a different approach. “After leaving the market, did you cross over the river?”

  “Yes. And we climbed up the hill beyond, but not quite to the top.”

  This was only as Tevi expected. The west side of the river Tor was the richer part of town, where the better class of inn was found. It was the place one would expect wealthy traders to stay, but the confirmation of her guess gave her somewhere to start the search.

  “Do you think you’d recognise the inn if you saw it again?” Tevi asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Well, then, if you’ve finished your stew, we might as well be off.”

  Instead of moving, Derry became unaccountably dejected. “Do you think Mama and Papa will be angry with me?” he mumbled.

  “You know your parents better than me.”

  “I’m going to be in big trouble.”

  Tevi was about to assure him that no one would be too hard on a boy, but stopped. Maybe on the mainland, a misbehaving boy might be punished no less severely than a girl. Her face softened, and she tousled his hair. “Even if they are angry, you can’t stay here forever,” Tevi said sympathetically, reaching for his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Tevi led the way into the maze of houses behind the docks. The sinking moon lit the wider roads but did not penetrate the small alleys. Fewer street gangs were about than earlier, although they were more blatantly ill willed. They watched the pair with hostile eyes but made no move to intercept them. Angry shouts told of fighting a few streets away; then a scream cut above the clamour. Tevi was glad to be heading away from the brawl.

  The marketplace was deserted as they skirted its edge on their way to the main bridge. The shop fronts and warehouses were blank and lightless. Even the gangs seemed to have melted into the dark, leaving only a threatening silence. Derry was jittery.

  Tevi put her arm around the boy’s shoulder. “It will be better once we cross over the bridge.”

  However, they did not get that far. The narrow passageway from the market opened onto a riverside wharf for unloading barges. The open area was about ten yards wide and five times as long. The moon lit the water’s edge, but the shadows of warehouses covered the other side in darkness.

  Derry suddenly grabbed her arm and pointed. “There they are.” Despite his excitement, the oppressive, darkened town had affected him, and his voice was barely a whisper.

  Tevi followed the direction of Derry’s outstretched arm and saw his parents at the far end of the wharf. That was not all she saw. The well-cut clothes and obvious wealth of Derry’s parents had not gone unnoticed. Silently emerging from a dark passage, halfway down the wharf, were two stocky figures. The thugs crept furtively through the shadows, cudgels in hand.

  Tevi propelled the boy into a darkened doorway. “Stay here, and don’t make a sound,” she whispered.

  The knife felt reassuring as Tevi pulled it from her jerkin and slipped it into her belt. Then she, too, began to edge around the walls, keeping to shadows.

  The traders were deep in conversation and obviously unaware of the danger until a third figure stepped into the moonlight.

  “Well, well, well. What have we here?” A woman’s light voice delivered the mocking phrase with real menace.

  Derry’s parents jerked around and then backed away, unknowingly retreating towards the two thugs. The other footpad stood her ground, hand on hip in jaunty belligerence, then snapped her fingers. At the signal, the two accomplices stepped from the shadows, swinging their clubs. The sound of footsteps behind them rooted the pair of traders to the ground as they realised they were trapped. The leader of the gang began a slow advance towards her victims, clearly enjoying the game.

  “Now why don’t you behave yourselves, and hand over all your money and anything else that you think I might like?”

  The gang’s attention was fixed on the traders. No one noticed Tevi’s stealthy approach. As the leader got within a few steps of Derry’s parents, Tevi made her move. The nearest thug was hoisted into the air and hurled against the other, sending the pair of them smashing into a brick wall. They collapsed to the ground in a mound of arms and legs.

  Tevi did not wait to see if the thugs would offer further resistance. Maybe Derry’s parents would have the presence of mind to claim the dropped cudgels for themselves. She charged past the traders, bearing down on the third thief, only to be confronted by a drawn sword.

  The years of training took over. Before Tevi realised it, her knife was in her hand and outstretched before her. She dropped to a defensive stance and met the gang leader’s angry eyes. The pair of them glared at each other.

  Tevi broke the silence. “Why don’t you go and find someone else to play with?”

  “Why don’t you get out of my way?” The woman sounded rattled by the unexpected interruption, but she was not ready to back down. The two adversaries began to circle, watching for an opening.

  In icy calm, Tevi reviewed Blaze’s advice on how to fight when your weapon was outmatched. Let your opponent make the moves. She’ll be overconfident. Take no risks. Watch what she does. Wait for the mistake. It was the style of combat in which Tevi was at her worst. The memory of countless defeats in practice assailed her, but this time, her life was at stake.

  The thief’s sword flicked out in a few feints to test Tevi’s defence; amateurish efforts, easily blocked, and the sureness of Tevi’s response drew a frown. Clearly, Tevi was not an untrained novice making free with someone’s kitchen utensil.

  For her part, Tevi was surprised at how easy it was. It was as if she could hear Blaze’s voice, offering advice.

  “ She’s going for your throat!” Blaze screamed, even as the woman made a more ambitious high thrust. In reflex, Tevi ducked and knocked the blade aside. She swung across sharply in riposte and felt the knife make contact. The footpad gasped and lurched a few steps backwards. They both knew it was merely a flesh wound, but the woman was unnerved, and her eyes flicked anxiously around the square.

  The traders had been frozen in paralysis, but now they began to shout loudly.

  “Help!”

  “Call the watch!”

  Tevi grimaced. Like all Torhafn residents, she knew the town watch were unlikely to come to anyone’s aid. However, the sound further alarmed her opponent.

  “Shut them up,” the gang leader snapped to her accomplices, but a glance showed that she could expect no support. The thugs had barely managed to clamber to their feet. One appeared to have a broken arm. The other, with a blood-smeared face, was still braced against the wall. The cudgels lay where they had fallen. The leader’s bravado had completely gone when the new sound of running feet reverberated around the walls.

  The circling meant Tevi’s opponent now had her back to the square. Over the woman’s shoulder, Tevi could see that the approaching footsteps belonged to Derry. He was running down the wharf, wildly swinging a wooden stake. Fortunately, the thief did not want to hang around. She jabbed with her sword. Tevi parried easily but was forced to step aside. This was what the gang leader had intended—clearing her escape route. After one last swipe, she rushed past Tevi and disappeared down the dark alley.

  Tevi watched her go and then turned to the two thugs. She gestured with her knife. “You can clear off as well.”

  No second bidding was needed. The pair hobbled in pursuit of their leader with what speed they could manage. The sound of their uneven footsteps faded away.

  Tevi’s gaze was caught by the dark smearing of blood on her knife. She looked at it though
tfully before wiping the blade clean. Over by the water’s edge, Marith had caught hold of Derry and was simultaneously hugging him while wresting the stake from his hand. Verron’s face was pale in the moonlight, and his upper lip was beaded with sweat, but a relieved smile was spreading over his features.

  Tevi slipped her knife into her belt and walked towards him. Suddenly, into her head came Blaze’s voice, hammering out her favourite lesson: “ No matter how defeated she seems, never, never, never turn your back on an enemy.”

  Tevi spun around just in time to see a dark figure swinging its arm down in an arc. Without time to think, Tevi pitched backward, deliberately colliding with Verron and knocking him down. The knife flew overhead, passing through the space Verron had been occupying and went on to skitter harmlessly across the cobbles. Tevi let her momentum roll her over her shoulder and up onto her feet in a fluid motion, but the figure was already gone.

  Tevi took a long step back to steady herself, only for her heel to hit a mooring ring anchored into the flagstones. The evasive roll had taken her a lot closer to the river than she intended or realised. The ring wedged between her sandal and foot, twisting her ankle. Her arms flailed in a desperate bid for balance, but no paving was beneath her second foot as it came down. Helplessly, Tevi tumbled backwards into the river.

  The traders rushed to the embankment and threw a line to help her climb onto the quay, where she knelt, wiping water from her eyes and trying desperately not to think about how filthy the river looked in daylight. In response to the barrage of concerned questions, Tevi simply shook her head. It was exactly the sort of ending her mother would have predicted for her first serious duel.