by Mel Odom
Knowing he’d never get any peace, Juhg had gone along quietly. So far he’d had half a good breakfast and had partially flouted Jassamyn’s rules by insisting on climbing up into the rigging to better enjoy the breeze and the fresh air. Jassamyn had accompanied him while Raisho kept watch from below.
“Even though he probably saved your life, even by your own admission,” Jassamyn said, “you don’t trust him.”
Looking at her, feeling the need in her to understand, Juhg shook his head. “I don’t.”
“But you’ve already stated that the mantis told you magic doesn’t mix with The Book of Time. What use would the book be to Craugh?”
“The Book of Time is a power unto itself,” Juhg said. “You don’t have to use magic to use the book. And don’t you think that anyone who could control all of time would be perhaps more than a little dangerous?”
Jassamyn tossed the draca another grape. The creature fluttered its wings as it dived in pursuit of the tasty morsel. It caught the grape halfway to the deck forty feet below, then flapped its wings again as it swooped back up with its prize. It sat in the rigging beside Jassamyn and greedily devoured the grape. Juice ran down its face and neck. Its belly protruded from the grapes it had already eaten.
“I do,” Jassamyn admitted. She looked out to sea and the wind blew through her hair. “A thing as powerful as The Book of Time shouldn’t even exist.”
“But it does.”
“What is going to become of it?”
“You mean after we rescue the Grandmagister?” The images of his mentor tortured and beaten had followed Juhg through nightmarish dreams the whole time he’d slept. “And after we get all four sections? And after we do something with Aldhran?”
“Cobner is going to kill him.”
Though he never thought he would ever hear himself say something like that, Juhg said, “I hope so.”
“But after all those things are accomplished,” Jassamyn said, “what will become of The Book of Time?”
Juhg shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Jassamyn reached for the drawing he’d been working on. It was of her and the draca, just a loose sketch that he would render again later, but it had a finished look about it.
“You have a good hand when it comes to art,” Jassamyn said.
“Thank you.”
“Cobner thinks you would make a good warrior.”
“I’m a halfer. Warriors and halfers. Those things don’t go together.” Juhg looked down at his arm. Mottled purple and red bruising colored his hand and his arm nearly all the way up to his elbow. He’d woken to find his first two fingers dislocated. When he’d mentioned it to Jassamyn, she’d immediately grabbed his fingers and yanked, popping them back into place. Juhg had screamed, a very unwarriorlike scream of pain because it had hurt very much. He was also certain that if Cobner had heard him the dwarven warrior would set aside his notion of training him.
Below, Cobner strode out onto the deck with his battle-axe. He insisted that he wasn’t used to the weapon yet and practiced four and five times a day until sweat streamed down his thick body.
The dwarf called out to Raisho, enticing the young sailor into a practice session. In moments, sailors had spread out around the combatants, giving them plenty of room to swing their blades. The sound of metal striking metal came to Juhg’s ears a split second behind the actual blows because of the wind and the distance. Cobner and Raisho moved in a wicked dance of death, each having learned to trust the other’s abilities and skill, as well as gaining respect for the other’s inventiveness and daring.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Juhg said, dreading what he was about to do.
Jassamyn looked at him.
He took the copy of his journal from inside his jacket and handed it to her. “This is why I struggle to trust Craugh,” he said, and he proceeded to tell her the stories Craugh had told him aboard One-Eyed Peggie.
When he finished, long after Cobner and Raisho had given up in a draw below and gone to soak their heads in buckets of brine pulled fresh from the sea, Jassamyn looked troubled.
“Why did you tell me this?” she asked.
“Partly because I needed someone else to know,” Juhg said. “In case something happens to me.”
“If Craugh had wanted you dead, all he had to do was not revive you yesterday.”
Juhg couldn’t argue with that.
“What do you think Wick meant when he told you to watch out for Craugh?” Jassamyn asked.
“I don’t know.” Juhg had tried to duplicate the contact with the Grandmagister by using the gemstones but had had no success. They were working, though, because he was able to look at Greydawn Moors and see that the island was still under siege, though the defenders had managed to forestall an actual invasion.
He had also looked in on One-Eyed Peggie, Hallekk, and the dwarven pirate crew and found them healthy and impatiently sitting at a dock on the Sarkus River that cut through the Haze Mountains. From what he’d gathered, Juhg could only look in on people or places that he was close to. Maybe with time or more practice he could look in on any current event, but at the moment he couldn’t. Each of the attempts had left him weaker and weaker, as if the pieces from The Book of Time were drawing on him for power.
“Wick could have merely been telling you to look after Craugh,” Jassamyn said.
“I know, but after what I told you—knowing that the Grandmagister doesn’t even know all that—would you want to trust him?”
A troubled look filled Jassamyn’s face. “It is difficult,” she admitted.
“Knowing what to do would be best,” Juhg said. “I feel … like I’m betraying Craugh’s friendship.”
“By telling me what he told you?”
Juhg shook his head. “By even suspecting him. But I don’t know any other safe way to handle it.”
Jassamyn sat quietly for a time, then admitted, “Neither do I. But at least now you don’t have to bear that burden alone.”
“I’m just tired of being afraid,” Juhg said, realizing what Raisho had been trying to tell him back in Imarish. “That fear is … interfering with my thinking. I’ve got to let that go and concentrate on getting these pieces of The Book of Time so that I can save the Grandmagister.”
16
The Smoking Marshes
Days later, when they made the landing at Ship’s Wheel Cove (which did resemble a ship’s wheel with all the bridges that led out from the central docking area where the arriving cargo fed out into warehouses all around the cove), Juhg’s bruised hand was almost healed. He’d also caught up on his journals, although there was some ancillary work he wanted to do. There was always extra work to be done on a writing project if he just looked for it.
The outlaw nature of Ship’s Wheel Cove was immediately apparent from the way goblinkin freely walked the city’s streets. Any city where goblinkin were accepted had at least some of its roots in piracy, caravan looting, and slavery. Seeing the goblinkin brought some of the old fears Juhg had had as a child bubbling up to the surface.
Raisho stayed with Juhg as they made arrangements for the horses they’d need to pursue the second section of The Book of Time into the Smoking Marshlands. Using previous experience with horses through actual riding and from things he’d read in the Library, Juhg chose the horses and paid for them with one of the gems Craugh carried to make purchases with.
Afterward, feeling a little remiss about the fact that Raisho had gone with him instead of getting some free time in the taverns before embarking on the wilderness journey—something Raisho had never before undertaken—Juhg agreed to a brief stopover.
The tavern was called the Boomarm and even featured one hanging from the front of the building that held up a stuffed narwhal that had seen its best days long ago. There was even a kitchen, and the smell of boiled shrimp and rice reminded Juhg that for the first time in days he was truly hungry.
Inside, the tavern was dingy and mismatched, the kind
of place that would be a temporary home to sailors newly in port and a frequent visiting place for cargo handlers waiting to put in a night’s work or just getting off after a hard day’s work.
The clientele was mostly human, but there were a few elves and dwarves as well. A group of goblinkin sat in the back. They immediately noticed Juhg because he was the only dweller inside the tavern.
“Look, Gronk,” one of the goblinkin snarled, pointing a long talon at Juhg, “they’s got a halfer in here.” The foul creature spat in the sawdust that covered the floor.
Gronk was a huge goblinkin, large and big bellied. The top half of one of his ears was sliced off and he wore an eyepatch. His teeth were huge blunt tusks. “Didn’t know they served halfers in here,” he stated in a deep voice. “Otherwise I’d have ordered me up one.”
His companions howled with glee.
Juhg tried to ignore the attention of the goblinkin, hoping that they would see Raisho with him and be dissuaded. He ordered a big plate of rice and boiled shrimp, flavored with sweet lemon curry and minced gingernuts, an order of blanched flamesprouts, and a wedge of cinnamon flavored tartberry jelly custard pie covered in fresh cream with a trace of sharp mint. Raisho ordered the same thing, but asked for ale instead of the dry cucumber tea that Juhg ordered. They split a basket of corn muffins between them with an extra helping of honey butter.
“Look at the appetite on that one,” one of the goblinkin said. “Why, I can’t believe he ain’t a fat little butterball.”
“He sits himself at that table long enough,” Gronk said, “an’ he will be.” He eyed Juhg. “Keep eatin’, halfer. Fatten yerself up for when we meet again.” He rasped his fork along the edge of his knife.
Seated at one of the tables, Raisho and Juhg dug in. As they ate, the insults offered by the goblinkin—distinctly addressing halfers in general and the one seated in their tavern in particular—increased. Juhg turned a deaf ear to it; he’d heard much worse—and, strangely enough, much more creative—while he’d been a slave in the goblinkin mines.
After a few minutes, Cobner put in an appearance. The goblinkin quietly fell silent for a moment as they eyed the dwarf’s keen battle-axe.
“Camping supplies are ready for pickup,” Cobner said. He looked at their plates. “Is that edible?”
“Well enough,” Raisho answered. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the goblinkin. “If’n ye don’t mind bad company.”
Cobner grinned evilly at the goblinkin, causing all of them to turn their attention back to their plates. “Oh, if they get out of hand, maybe I’ll work up an appetite before I eat. Or if they wait, I can work off a big meal. Makes no nevermind to me.” He placed his order. In minutes, he was seated with them at their table, digging into their basket of corn muffins.
Both Cobner and Raisho ate faster than Juhg. He savored the meal for a change, knowing the cooking they’d be able to do while out in the Smoking Marshes wouldn’t be nearly as good and this would be his last civilized meal for a while. His companions bolted their food as if they were in a competition.
Still, Juhg knew the goblinkin couldn’t stay quiet forever. Even self-preservation couldn’t curb their malicious and malignant natures.
One of the goblinkin tossed an apple onto the table in front of Juhg. Unfortunately, the apple bounced into Cobner’s plate. Although the dwarf had eaten his fill, he wasn’t much of one for taking insults.
“Here, halfer,” the goblinkin said, “why don’t you put that in yer mouth an’ go lie in the cook’s oven for us. Don’t bother gettin’ out. We’ll come get you when you’re good an’ tender.”
Cobner picked up the apple. “It comes to my attention,” the dwarf said solemnly, “that I’ve about had me fill of bad company.” He looked at Raisho, who nodded in agreement.
“Short tempers?” Gronk asked, then slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. “I guess it’s just because of the company you keep.”
With a deceptive flick, Cobner threw the apple and hit Gronk in his good eye. The goblinkin shrieked with pain. In an instant, the goblinkin stood up from their seats and ran at Cobner. The dwarf stood with Raisho at his side, both of them pulling their weapons. They met the goblinkin halfway.
Juhg picked up his plate and glass and made his way outside.
He sat on the steps leading up to the tavern with his plate balanced across his knees. For the most part, he blocked out the sound of fists striking flesh and the piercing screams of goblins in pain and stared out at the curious wheel-shaped docks.
Craugh, coming from the inns where caravan masters often stayed while in Ship’s Wheel Cove, spotted Juhg by the time he’d gotten comfortable and came over. The wizard looked around, unavoidably aware that a noisy brawl was taking place inside the tavern, when a tankard sailed through the front door and he had to bat it away with his staff.
“Where’s Raisho?” Craugh asked, obviously dissatisfied with the fact that the young sailor had left Juhg unattended.
“Inside,” Juhg said.
At that moment, Raisho crashed through the multipaned front window and landed on the wooden porch outside. The impact jarred the wooden steps and Juhg had to make a quick grab to save his glass of tea.
“Well,” Juhg said, “he was inside.”
Cobner stuck his head out the door, grinning happily. “Raisho, are you gonna get back in here or what? This is getting more interesting. Believe it or not, the goblinkin here have friends. Stinky friends.”
Smiling, Raisho pushed himself up and started back for the door. “Save the big one for me.” He vanished inside the tavern and the sounds of battle increased again.
“He’s inside again,” Juhg said. He offered Craugh the basket of corn cakes he’d brought out with him. “Corn cake?”
Scowling, Craugh glared at the tavern. “Not right this minute.” He rolled up the sleeves of his robe, tilted his pointy hat forward and marched up the steps.
Jassamyn came up as Craugh vanished inside the tavern. She had needed arrows and had arranged for the supplies they needed. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Tavern fight,” Juhg said. “Cobner and Raisho are inside.”
“Craugh went in after them?”
“Yes.”
Leaning forward, Jassamyn picked up a corn cake from the basket. She sat down next to Juhg. “Craugh should leave them alone. They’ve been cooped up on the ship for days. Everybody’s a little on edge. A good fight will loosen those two up and make them more bearable.”
Juhg silently agreed. He wanted to be on the road even if it meant braving more dangers to get the next pieces of The Book of Time. It would have been better if they could have gone toward the Haze Mountains and prepared to save the Grandmagister.
“I think Craugh’s in a hurry to go,” Juhg said.
“Wizard!” someone inside the tavern yelled. “Wizard!”
“Aw no,” Cobner pleaded from inside. “Craugh, you don’t have to do that. Me and Raisho were just having a bit of fun.”
“The fun is over,” Craugh declared.
A heartbeat later, a huge explosion sounded inside the tavern. Juhg ducked his head and covered his plate as flying glass and flying goblins sailed by overhead. There were a few humans and dwarves in the mix as well. Evidently the goblinkin had had friends, or the locals had decided strangers to town were better targets than someone who lived in town who might stab them in the back. All of the flying brawlers hit the ground and got up. Alive and untoadified. At least Craugh didn’t look like he was going to leave any lasting repercussions.
Craugh came from the tavern rolling down his sleeves. Looking glum and unhappy, Cobner and Raisho followed in the wizard’s wake.
“It was just a tavern fight,” Cobner protested. “Not anything big.”
“An’ they were talkin’ bad about Juhg,” Raisho said. “Ye know we can’t stand for that.”
“Can’t stand for it at all,” Cobner agreed. “Not and maintain our sense of integrity and honor.�
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“It weren’t like we killed anybody,” Raisho said. Then he looked at Cobner. “Ye didn’t kill anybody back there, did ye?”
“No. You?”
“Not me.”
“What,” Craugh demanded coldly as he wheeled on the two combatants, “happened to the part of the plan where we entered Ship’s Wheel Cove quietly, arranged for what we needed, and got out of town without ever being noticed?”
Neither Cobner nor Raisho had an answer.
Craugh looked at Juhg and pointed at the horses tied to the hitching post in front of the tavern. “Are these ours?”
“Yes.” Juhg put his empty plate on the glass-strewn porch.
Unhitching the reins of the nearest one, Craugh stepped into the stirrup and pulled himself up. “Then let’s be on our way. I’ve arranged to ride at least part of the way with a trade caravan headed to Torvassir. The woods are reported to be filled with goblinkin bandits.”
“All the more reason to thump a few goblinkin skulls afore we head out,” Raisho said. “Mayhap their friends will think twice afore jumpin’ us out in the woods.”
“And maybe,” Craugh said, wheeling his mount around to face the young sailor, “they’ll come looking for you.”
“There is that,” Cobner said.
“Oh,” Raisho said.
Craugh put his heels to the horse and trotted down the street.
Juhg climbed onto his mount as well, then took off after the wizard. Jassamyn followed him while the draca sailed along overhead. Cobner and Raisho brought up the rear, already arguing about who had gotten the best of the goblinkin and talking about good moves each had seen in the other.
Warriors, Juhg thought. I will never understand warriors. They had their hands filled with trying to find the pieces of The Book of Time, and Cobner and Raisho went out of their way to take part in a tavern brawl. Remembering the insults the goblinkin had hurled, disparaging comments not only about halfers but the dwarves and humans who took up companionship with them, Juhg amended his thinking. Well, not much out of the way.
