by Ron Root
Fearing to leave their belongings unattended, they brought them inside with them, causing every patron to take notice. Most were gawking at Rayna. No matter what her attire, there was no disguising her beauty.
The men ordered bread, cheese, and ale, while Rayna opted for honey bread and Elderberry wine. Gresham paid for it out of his dwindling funds, a growing cause for concern. Rayna had yet to pay him her promised advance, something they’d need to discuss if they were to supply their trip.
“Time to get organized,” he announced, trying his best to sound confident. “Harvest season is over, so the nights will get cooler.” He turned to Rayna, “The blankets we brought are likely too thin. We’d best find a tanner and buy warmer pelts… and peat for fires; and water skins. Four should do it. Judging from your mother’s map, I’m guessing the trip will take two to three days. To be on the safe side, we should buy food for twice that long.” He smiled at Rayna. “And I’m guessing a nicer outfit is high on your priority list.”
She rolled her eyes.
Now, to broach the topic of his advance. “We’ll need to hire a boatman to ferry us across the bay. Its cost will surely exceed my present funds.” He gave Rayna a pensive look. “Lady, could we discuss that advance we spoke of?”
“Of course. Here,” she said, reaching for her purse.
Gresham grabbed her wrist. “Not here. Wait until we’re someplace private.”
Looking around, she released it.
“Hagley, you’re familiar with this town. How about you show Rayna where she can buy clothing, and perhaps a small knapsack to carry it in.”
“Of course.”
“We should make a list of the supplies we still need, and shop for them. Bear in mind,” he told Rayna, “it’ll be just the two of us carrying whatever we take, so weigh need against size and weight. Also, that outfit you had on this morning, although stunning, would have been ruined in a day or two. A short hooded-cape with leggings beneath would better serve you.”
“Rest assured,” she said, crossing her arms and frowning, “I am perfectly capable of deciding what’s best for me to wear.”
Oops! “I apologize if I offend, but as your guide, it’s my duty to advise.” Doubting her sense for practicalities, he decided it’d be up to him to buy her something sensible; and give it to her later.
Once they’d completed their list, they spread Rayna’s map out on the table. “Hagley, you’re familiar with Portsmouth.” He pointed to one of two X’s on the map. “We need to get there,” he said, pointing to one on the far side of a bay, “from here.” He pointed to other. “Any idea where those might be?”
Hagley studied the map. “I don’t, but the university maintains a livery here. It’s just down the road. Its hostler could say for sure.”
Meal done, they headed for the stables where they spied a grizzled, older man busily pitching hay. “Horace, how goes your day?” Hagley greeted.
The man looked up and smiled. “I fare well Hagley. You here to do more of the magi’s biddings?”
“Nay, not this time. Any chance I could leave my wagon here while I show these grubbers around?”
Gresham frowned. Leaving the wagon hadn’t been part of any plan.
The hostler nodded. “Surely. Leave the team by the stalls and I’ll see to them. It’s a bit sloped inside, so be sure to scotch the wheels.”
“We have things in it that need watching—is that all right?”
Horace wandered over and peered into the wagon. “Pay the stable boy a chink and he’ll be more than happy watch it for you.”
“Oh, another favor,” Hagley said. “You grew up in this shite hole, didn’t you?”
“Ha! An apt a description as I’ve ever heard. Aye, born and raised in this stinkin’ place.”
“My man here,” he said, resting a hand on Gresham’s shoulder, “wants to do some fishin’. Some fellow sold him a map he claimed marked the best holes. Trouble is, we can’t figure out where exactly they are.”
“Lemme see.” Gresham handed him the map. “See how the land juts into the water here by your mark? That has to be Pirate’s Cove.” Hagley stiffened at its mention. “That second mark is Tanner Point, a quay on the far side of the bay. It ain’t used no more; the waters there be dangerous, and it’s a long row to get there with little to show for your efforts. You’ll want nothin’ to do with that lagoon over there neither; boat bustin’ rocks everywhere. Ain’t uncommon for loobies who go there to never be heard from again.” He met Gresham’s gaze. “Hope you didn’t spend much coin for this map, son, ‘cuz go there and you’re likely as not to wind up swimmin’ with the fishes instead of catchin’ ‘em.” He grinned at his clever play with words. “Best forget that place altogether. There be plenty of good fishin’ holes on this side o’ the bay.”
Gresham tucked away the map away. “Gramercy. We’ll take your advice.”
“Well, good fishin’,” he said, wandering back to his hay.
“Who said anything about leaving the wagon behind?” Gresham whispered once Horace was out of ear shot. “Why would we do that?”
Hagley raised a finger. “First off, none of you lot knows your way about this town, so you need my help. Secondly, Pirate’s Cove is easily the most dangerous place in Portsmouth. Were we to leave our wagon there unattended, thieves would have it emptied and gone in moments.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Gresham said, scratching his chin. “If this Pirate’s Cove place is as bad as you say, I’d best take my weapons with me—disguise be damned.”
While Hagley bargained with the stable boy, Gresham strapped his scabbard over his back.
Negotiations done, Hagley pressed a coin into the gleeful-looking lad’s palm.
“You stay here,” Gresham said, ruffling Sully’s hair, “and keep the stable boy company.”
“Aw-w!” he whined. “I want to go adventuring too.”
“Sorry,” Gresham said, “if Pirate’s Cove is as bad as Hagley says, it’s no place for a child.” Turning a deaf ear to Sully’s protests, the group headed for the wharf.
Sully hid behind the wagon, watching them go. Thinking there was no way he’d let them go adventuring without him, he followed, keeping out of sight. After a bit, they stopped to talk. Hagley pointed toward the bay, which was now in sight. Gresham headed that way, while Hagley and the princess went into a shoppe. Deciding whatever Gresham was up to had to be more interesting than buying stuff, Sully followed him.
He tracked him to the docks. Boats was everyplace. Gresham started haggling with a man there. After a bit, they spit in their palms and touched hands. A couple other men dragged a boat down to the water, and Gresham left.
Sully was about to follow, when some larrikin stepped out from behind another boat and joined the boat man, watching Gresham leave. Seeing the looks on their faces, Sully felt a sense of dread.
He crept closer. This new man was talking. “Who was the big fellow?”
The boat man laughed. “Some highborn posin’ as a commoner, wantin’ to rent a boat, but his words be way too fancy to fool the likes of me.”
The new man pointed at the nearby boat. “Ain’t that yers? Sure’s ya didn’t tell him you be lettin’ him use that, did ya?”
The boat merchant grinned. He had one tooth. “No, Shay, he just thinks I did. Highborns have thick purses, and I be just the man to relieve ‘m of it.”
Shay drew his knife. “How about we get about doing it now, afore he gets away?”
The boatman raised a hand. “Hold on. I told ‘em I’d row the boat up to the old Henley shack. He ain’t payin’ me ‘til then. Let’s make sure he’s got his coin on him afore we feed ’m to the fishes.”
Sully’s heart pounded—these bad men were meaning to kill Gresham.
He ran after Gresham to warn him, but he was nowhere in sight. Dread washed over him. At a loss for what else to do, he raced back to the stable.
The shoppe proved a bo
on, and with Hagley’s help, Rayna found everything on Gresham’s list. Genevieve was right, she had packed too much finery, especially considering she’d be the one to carry it. Still, she had to do something about her outfit. Off the highways now, surely the need for disguises had abated. The clothes that chitty-faced Mistress had forced her to wear were an embarrassment, especially in front of Gresham. The man may claim not to be highborn, but everything about him said otherwise. He fascinated her like no man she’d known.
“Hagley,” she said, handing him two silvers, “could you be a good fellow and pay for these? The shoppe next door had clothing in its window. You can join me there after purchasing our goods.” Ignoring his bewildered expression, she headed out the door.
Once inside, the store was more than a little disappointment. Even the Shoppe’s finest outfits fell far short of fashionable. But despite their poor quality, they were a noticeable improvement over what she had on. After a thorough search of the place, she found something marginally acceptable.
A sweating, grunting Hagley arrived with her goods. “Let’s pay for that dress and go find Gresham.”
When she handed the merchant her coin, he balked. “Sorry girlie, I can’t be changin’ no gold. You’ll be needin’ somethin’ way smaller.”
Girlie? The nerve! And here she was offering him a sale. Huffing, she dug out a smaller coin.
As soon as they were outside, Hagley grabbed her arm, whispering, “It’s not streetwise to be flashing a gold piece. Doing so tells folks you’re rich enough to rob.”
“Oh!” Rayna blurted, putting a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t think.” She looked back over her shoulder. “What should we do?”
“Find Gresham and get out of here.”
Gresham walked out of the shoppe feeling smug at having found Rayna a durable tunic and leggings—practical enough for their trek. He hoped they’d fit her tiny form. He found Hagley and her waiting at their agreed upon meeting place, looking worried. “Is everything all right?”
Hagley looked around, acting wary. “We fear we’re being followed.”
“Why, you look like paupers?”
“It’s my fault,” Rayna said, “I showed one of the merchants a gold piece.”
“Gods no!”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a band of knife-wielding ruffians emerged from behind the adjacent buildings. Gresham counted eight in all. Waghalters for sure, they looked filthy, mean and more importantly, dangerous.
“You boys go to either side and back now,” the largest of them ordered, “in case them feels the need to run.”
Gresham reached over his shoulder, groping for his sword.
“He’s goin’ for a weapon, Shay,” one of them hollered.
Shay—their leader—eyed him, sneering. “Careful big feller, our eight little prickers be way better than that big one of yours.”
Gresham matched his smirk. “Well ‘Shay,’ are you sure this motley band is ready to do battle the likes of a trained soldier and a magus?” he added, nodding toward Hagley.
Shay looked at Hagley. “I know you. You’re that fat shit what tricked us into fighting them garrison troopers. A pox on you.” He spat in the dirt. “You’re a dead man, ‘Magus.’ You cost me four boys. Before you die, I’m cuttin’ off one finger for each man we lost, you bastard. Lastlike, I’ll cut out your eyes.”
Hagley paled. Shay’s gaze drifted to Gresham. “But you die first, soldier boy.” He looked at Rayna, his eyes raking her body. “The wench we do last. Ain’t never had me no highborn afore, no matter how she be dressing. She’s a looker, that one. Me and the boys will likely have a bit of fun with her afore we slits her throat.”
A loud ruckus coming their way drew everyone’s attention. Charging hell-bent toward them were two large steeds, towing a wagon. Sitting in the driver’s seat was a boy. Sully had brought Hagley’s wagon. With dirt flying and dust spewing, he looked ready to mow them down.
Abandoning their quarry, the bandits scurried out of his path. Sully slowed as he neared his friends. “Hop in!”
Gripping the buckboard with one hand, Gresham grabbed Rayna’s wrist and fell butt-first into the back wagon, pulling her on top of him. Hagley jumped in beside them. With everyone aboard, Sully snapped the reins, urging the horses forward. Before the brigands could recover, they were racing away.
Once they’d distanced themselves from their would-be attackers, Sully slowed the team. Hagley crawled to the front. “I’ll take over,” he said, relieving Sully of the reins.
A rattled Rayna gave the boy a hug as he crawled into the back. “Thank you, little hero, you rescued me, just like you promised.”
Sully’s grin put his every tooth on display. “That be pretty smart of me, huh?”
Gresham laughed. “Yes, it was.” He climbed up front with Hagley. “Ever hear of a place called Henley’s Shack?” he asked, checking for signs of the brigands. “I’ve arranged to have our boat delivered there.”
“No!” Sully cried, “You can’t! The man what sold it to you be waiting there to kill you! I heard him say it to one of them men back there.”
“How could you possibly hear him?”
“I didn’t stay at the stables,” he said, looking sheepish, “I followed you.”
Gresham gave the boy an exasperated look. “Thank you for the warning.” He looked at Hagley. “You didn’t answer my question. The boatman said I’d find our boat at the dock next to the old Henley Shack. Is it on this road?”
“I know of a shack, but I’ve not heard it called by any name.”
“Good. Take us there.”
Sure enough, there was a small dock not far from Hagley’s shack with a small boat tied to it. “You three stay here while I look for this assassin. Put on those knapsacks and be ready to run. When I signal it’s safe, come down to that boat. I want to be out of here before those ruffians decide to follow us.”
Sword drawn, he crept down to the dock. The setting sun glistened off the water, making it difficult to see. He went to where the boat was tied off, and seeing no one, waved for his companions to join him. Seconds later he heard the familiar sound of a blade being drawn. He spun about. There, not ten paces from him, was the boatman, a cutlass in his hand. The man charged, swinging his weapon. Gresham parried the blow, and readied himself to do battle. Despite all his training, this was the first time he’d dueled for real. He doubted the same was true for the blackheart confronting him.
Fending the man one-handed, he drew his dagger. He preferred fighting with two weapons. Despite all his practice, he’d never faced such an awkward fighting style before, nor had he ever engaged a cutlass. Was this how pirates fought? After one or two exchanges, it became clear the man’s skill was no match for his. That awareness calmed him. His attacker must have reached that same notion, for his once confident killer-to-be suddenly looked worried. Gresham paused his attack. He’d never taken a man’s life and didn’t want to now. “You’re overmatched. Desist and I’ll spare your life.”
“We’ll see the truth of that, lubber.” The man said, slashing at Gresham’s head.
Gresham parried, but didn’t counterattack. He backed away, deflecting blow after blow. How could he end this fight without killing the man? That became the least of his worries when his heel found a patch of slippery moss. Footing lost, he fell to his back, exposed, and defenseless.
The man rushed him, cutlass held high. Just as he was about to deliver a killing blow, blood spurted from his mouth. Startled eyes went wide, then blank, as he slumped to the dock. Standing behind him stood Sully, holding Gresham’s crossbow.
Rayna and Hagley came running down the pier. “The brigands are here,” Hagley shouted. “We need to leave!”
Sully and Rayna climbed down the slip ladder, and hopped into the boat. Gresham handed down the remaining gear. Just as Hagley and he were about to join them, Shay and company came storming onto the far end of the dock.
; They were way too many. “Hagley! Get in the boat! I’ll hold them off as long as I can!”
Hagley simply stood there, mumbling something incomprehensible, weaving strange patterns with his hands. All of a sudden, the intruders started hopping about, spinning round and round, as if dancing. “YOU get into the boat,” Hagley ordered. “Holler once you’re in.”
Seeing that whatever Hagley was doing was keeping their foes at bay, Gresham untied the bow line and slipped down the ladder. As he was doing so, Sully scrambled up it. “Get back here!”
“I will, I will,” he yelled, crawling on all fours toward the dead pirate.
Gresham grabbed the oars and reefed. The boat lurched. “Get in now!” he screamed.
Hagley stopped casting and clambered down with Sully right behind him, clutching the dead man’s cutlass. The boat was already moving as they leaped in. Rayna’s grab of Hagley was all that saved him from tumbling overboard and possibly capsizing the boat.
Freed of Hagley’s spell, the pirates raced down the pier. By the time they reached the ladder, Gresham was boat lengths away. Two dived in, giving chase, but Gresham’s efforts widened the gap. The last thing he heard from the docks was the order for everyone to find boats.
The brigands abandoned the pier, racing back toward the wharf. Gresham shipped the oars to catch his breath. He turned to Hagley. “What did you do to them, anyway?”
Hagley looked embarrassed. “I haven’t memorized very many spells. Usually I need to read them just before I cast. This one is an exception. I learned it a long time ago for a university festival.”
“A festival?”
“Yeah, it compels people to dance.”
Rayna laughed. “You saved us by making those horrible men dance?”
He gave a sheepish grin. “We had a lot of fun with it at the party.”
Everyone cackled, even Hagley.
Gresham scanned the dock one more time, making sure it was empty. “They’re gone. We need to get you two ashore and be on our way. I want to be long gone before those waghalters find boats.”
