The second peal came. Ullin cried out at the rising crescendo, and his knees buckled in fear. Anerath twirled around and around, bucking, but he did not run away. Again, the silence that came afterward was as dreadful as the passing echo. By now, Ullin was as confused and in terror as Anerath, and he drew his sword and dagger. Then came the third, mightiest toll of all, rolling over the forest with such force that it bent the trees and blasted their leaves of the last drips of rainwater. Ullin screamed, but he managed to stand, his weapons at the ready.
The quaking sky rolled away, and complete silence fell upon the forest. The rain ceased, not a drop fell from the branches, no creature stirred, even Ullin and Anerath stood shock-still, while Lady Moon at last parted the clouds and lit up the descending fog and rolling mist with her pale gaze. Ullin feared that he knew where the sound had come from, and he was gripped with panic. A dreadful feeling overcame him that he should ride back the way he had come, through darkness and terror, and hie to Tulith Attis. He sheathed his weapons, hastily rolled up his groundsheet, tied it onto his saddle, and put a foot into the stirrup. Then, just as he shifted his weight on the stirrup to mount, he remembered. It was an odd warning, spoken by Ashlord years ago, when Ullin had first escorted the mystic to Tulith Attis. Before parting company to go his own way, he asked:
"Collandoth, what exactly do you mean to watch for at this forlorn place?"
"What? Not what. Who. But if you ever have a sudden and uncanny urge to drop whatever it is that you are doing and come back here, do not do so."
"What do you mean? Do you not desire me to visit you if passing through?"
"I speak not of when you pass through," Ashlord had said. "I speak of when you are elsewhere, going about your duties, and may be suddenly and strangely overcome with a powerful sense that you should forego your duty and come here. I admonish you not to do so. You must keep on with our work, and the dispatches that you carry must get through."
Ullin took his foot from the stirrup. In spite of Ashlord's warning, he was still filled with doubt and uncertainty. He stood, holding Anerath's reins, wondering what to do. The rain suddenly fell like pebbles. A long thread of lightning shot overhead, its crack following closely, and the storm resumed with as much if not greater fury than before. Still uncertain about things, Ullin stood all night, gripping Anerath's reins, watching, waiting.
Hours later, when he could make out the outline of the trees surrounding him, he knew that morning had come. He took from his saddlebag a hard, sticky block and broke off a bit of it with his teeth. Putting it away, he chewed his breakfast as he led Anerath through the forest back to the path.
• • •
If it had not been for Anerath's sureness and speed, Ullin would have never made it to Colleton in time. As it was, the storm pounded Forest Mistwarren with such fury that horse and rider spent as much time off the trail as on it. It was a miserable passage with dark, wet days, wind beating through the trees, rain blowing sideways, and the path mud-mired and slippery. The nights were just as bad, and Ullin saw no point in spreading his bedroll, and no hope of a fire. Those nights he spent crouching against a tree trunk with his legs pulled up and his ground sheet pulled tight over his head as Anerath stood watch. Twice they came to washed-out bridges and had to find their way to fording places. And twice they were forced around gullies awash with runoff. After five days, the storm eased, and as the two reached the edge of Mistwarren and saw the gentle cultivated hills of Calletshire spreading out before them, both horse and rider were relieved that now they could make a better pace.
Over the next days they rode through the countryside, taking shelter in the barns or stables of friendly farmers who were too busy with storm recovery chores to care much about the stranger's business, but not too busy to accept his silver. Ullin's worries over the strange sound heard while in Forest Mistwarren did not abate, but they merely added to all his other concerns. And now, with fair weather and good roads, he was anxious to make up for time lost back in the Thunder Mountains. Anerath, sensing this, was more than happy to comply, clipping along so enthusiastically that Ullin felt obliged to restrain him somewhat. They could already smell the sea air, and Ullin saw no sense in pushing Anerath any more than was needed.
Nine days from Passdale, they came over a rise and saw Colleton no more than a league away, resting at the mouth of the Northford River. Beyond the city could be seen the hazy blue-gray sea. Hopeful that he had not missed his rendezvous, Ullin paused to scan the old city. It was not the town it once had been. Indeed, its decline began long ago, even before the days of old King Inrick who once ruled from there, back when the Eastlands Realm governed itself. Its once-busy port was now mostly used as a provisioning place for ships bound north and south, mostly those from Glareth. Trade ships loaded and unloaded very little cargo, any more, and even fewer passengers. The town's spires were decayed, and many of its houses and structures were in a terrible state, needing but receiving little repair, and quite a large portion of the old city was simply abandoned. Only those districts close to the docks and wharves still thrived, but it was not enough to keep the rest of the city as prosperous as it once had been.
Even so, it was a welcome sight to Ullin, who looked forward to a restful journey by boat to Glareth by the Sea. That is, if he had not already missed his appointment. And, if he had missed the boat, at least there were inns where he could find a good bed and good food before setting out northward overland. However, as he rode down from the bluff and along the road leading into the marshes that nearly surrounded the inland side of Colleton, he quickly saw that his hopes of bed or boat might be in vain. The wooden bridge that crossed the first of a series of tidal estuaries was quite nearly demolished. Coming to a halt, he slumped in his saddle, watching workman pulling away dangling bits of plank and board from the pilings of the bridge. Nearly the entire deck was gone, leaving only a narrow walkway consisting of planks laid end to end across the cross-members.
"Hello there!" Ullin called to the nearest workman. "Is there any chance of getting across today?"
"Not with yer horse," the workman called back. "But yer welcome to go on by foot."
"And the other bridges, the ones to the south?"
"Well, they're a far sight worse off than this one. An' thar ain't but us what ye see here to do the work of puttin' 'em back together."
Ullin knew better than to try to ride across the estuary. Even at low tide, Anerath would most likely become hopelessly stuck in mud before they went twenty yards. He jumped down and began pulling his gear off. Once he had his things rebundled and tied with a cord to sling over his shoulder, he removed Anerath's bridle.
"I'm very sorry to have to do this," he said as he tied the bridle onto a saddle ring, "but you'll need to find your own way back. I'm not sure you understand me, but try to make it back to Tulith Attis, to Collandoth if you can. Take the long, safe way around. I'd remove your saddle, too, but Collandoth might need it."
When he had the bridle tied off and out of the way, Ullin put his arm around Anerath's neck and gave him a pet.
"You've been a good friend. I wish I could be a better friend to you than I am, and take you to Colleton. But it's thirty miles to the next nearest road to the coast, and another fifteen up along the bluffs to the city. I can't risk missing the boat, if it hasn't already departed without me. And I don't even know if they would take you aboard. So it is perhaps better for us to part company here. I'm sorry. Be safe. Go. Go ahead. Farewell!"
Ullin watched Anerath trot off hesitantly, then turn to look back.
"I'll be fine," Ullin said, smiling. Anerath tossed his mane and hurried off westward. Pulling up his bundle and slinging it over his shoulder, Ullin turned and crossed the bridge. The walkway was so narrow that Ullin had to watch where he stepped, otherwise he would not have dared look down. If he fell, he would probably not be hurt, landing in the mud twenty feet below. It might as well have been two hundred feet down for all it mattered to Ullin, for he did not a
t all care for heights.
Soon he was off the wobbly planks and onto solid ground, and he hurried on, having to cross several more less damaged bridges until he made it to the edge of town. There, he came to a checkpoint manned by Colleton guards. Everyone had to line up to pass a table, where one of the guards sat with an open volume and a pot of ink. At last Ullin's turn came, and he spoke before he was asked.
"Kingsman, Special Post."
The man sitting squinted up at him, taking the papers Ullin held out.
"I see," he said examining Ullin's orders. "Your business in Colleton?"
"I come to take passage to Glareth."
"I see," the man said as he wrote Ullin's name and the purpose of Ullin's visit in the volume. He then handed back the orders without looking up as he continued to scribble. "Good journeys, Commander. Next!"
Ullin was allowed to pass, and he entered the decrepit western districts of the town, passing hurriedly along the cobblestone streets, pushing past slower pedestrians and dodging the occasional horseman or wagon. Many of the buildings and shops were empty, and shingles and loose splinters of wood lay everywhere, lingering evidence of the storms that had battered the place. He went through the center of town, passing the old castle where once the kings of the Eastlands Realm ruled. Although in terrible state of repair, it served as the city hall and as the headquarters of Glarethian administrators, whose duty it was to be regents over the Eastlands under Prince Danoss. From this point onward, the streets were busier, as carts laden with goods came and went from the docks and wharves ahead. A brisk sea breeze blew steadily, rustling the moss hanging from the old oaks and snapping the pennants that hung in front of shops and taverns. He could already see ships' masts over the roofs down the way, and he picked up his stride.
Soon he was walking along a stone-laid road beside the many docks, eyeing the ships and boats tied up, some flying colors of Glareth, and some from as far away as Altoria. Fearing that he was too late, he grew worried as he came to a small ship, a cutter, tied at the very last dock. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the ship's name, "Sea Arrow," across its stern, but was somewhat disappointed that it was so small, with no oar ports. At the gangplank were two Glarethian seamen standing watch.
"Are ye the Kingsman we await?" said one.
"I am, I think."
"Papers?"
Ullin handed them over.
"Ah, Commander Tallin. Ye were expected five days ago," the sailor said, having looked over the orders. He handed them back, saying, "We'd just about given up on ye, an' we're all prepared to leave at ebb tide, not being able to put off our departure any longer. Captain Sands ain't aboard, sir, but should be back in a few hours. If you wish ye can come aboard an' see to yer bunk and stow yer gear. Or, if ye like, there's a tavern down the way yonder, should ye care for a bite an' a pint."
"How long, then?"
"Five hours or so afore slack water, another hour after that afore we cast off."
"I see. Can you guess how long until we reach Glareth by the Sea?" he asked, eyeing the ship. Besides having no oarsmen, there was only a single very tall mast.
"Ah, no more than six days, I expect. Five's more likely, though. T'would be sooner but for the light winds this time of year."
"Only five or six days? With no oarsmen?"
"Aye, sir. None needed. She's a fast cutter, she is! One of the new breed of ships, ye might say, that Prince Carbane builds. Smallish, but none faster, neither by nor large. Easy crewed, by just the five of us, along with Captain Sands. Ye'll see."
"Hm," Ullin said, still skeptical. "Looks more like a lake boat."
"She's akin to them, sir, in a manner of sayin'."
"And where is the tavern you mentioned?"
"Just up the way there, to the next street, then on down and on yer right. Called 'Fisherman's Green.' Shall I take yer bundle on aboard, then?"
"Yes. Thank you. I'll keep my shoulder bag, though. Take care of that, will you?" Ullin requested, gesturing to the hilt of his longsword protruding from his bundle as he handed it over.
"We certainly will, sir."
Ullin pulled off his cloak, put the strap of the dispatch bag over his shoulder, then pulled his cloak back on.
"Just so ye know," one of the seamen said, "the place is crawlin' with Redvest people. Not all in uniform, neither. They don't cause much trouble, kind of keepin' an eye on us, I think. But we've had a few run-ins. An' I doubt they care much for Duinnor threads, if ye take me meanin'. Nor hilts."
"Thanks for the advice. I'll be careful," Ullin said, pulling his travel cloak around over his tunic and over the hilt of his Duinnor issue as he walked away.
"At the ebb!" one of the men called after him.
• • •
Ullin had little trouble finding Fisherman's Green. When he entered, it was bustling with customers, sailors and soldiers mostly, crowded at the bar and at the many tables and booths. A few men in red tunics and cloaks glanced Ullin's way as he stood looking for an unoccupied seat, but they turned back to their tankards as he made his way to the bar.
"A table and meal?" he inquired over the noise of talk and the wheezing of a concertina nearby. The barman did not hear him, but the man standing at the bar next to Ullin spoke.
"It will clear out soon," he said. "The tide's rising, so most'll need to make their ships soon, if they don't want to be stranded."
Ullin nodded, noting the man's accent, his penetrating blue eyes, and the Tracian cut of his clothing. Before he could reply, however, the man turned away and continued his conversation with his drinking mate.
"A table and a meal?"
This time the barkeep heard Ullin.
"No table 'til one comes up empty. Ye can eat here, or ye can wait. Won't be long, I expect, for one of them small booths over yonder, if that'll suit."
"Yes. A beer in the meantime, if you will."
Strongly desiring to take the weight off his legs, have a meal, and perhaps a nap, Ullin settled for the beer instead. Drinking, he turned to face the young girl whom the concertina player was now accompanying. As she sang, the noise subsided just a little, and a little more as many of the customers quaffed the last of their rum and beer and staggered for the door.
"I cannot wait," he heard the man nearby say to his companion. "So I trust you to give it to him."
"I understand. I'll do so as soon as he shows up. Don't think he'll be too happy, though."
"Can't be helped. I must go. Good luck!"
"Good journeys."
Ullin felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning back around, he saw the man smiling at him.
"I think the barkeep beckons you," he said.
"Oh. Thank you."
"Not at all," the man said, walking to the door.
"I've got a small booth yonder," the barkeep said to Ullin. "Usually reserved for four or more."
"I'll pay for five tankards, if that will do," Ullin said, offering the man a few coins. "I'll only have one, though. And a light meal."
"Fine. Good. Will fried cod and hushpuppies do?"
"Yes. I should say so."
"Then go on over, an' I'll have yer next tankard brung over to ye right off, with a plate."
Between the beer and the pile of food that Ullin ate, he soon felt better, but much in the way of needing sleep. Judging by the clock, he guessed he had a couple of hours. A placard beside the clock had a large arrow on it indicating that the tide was still coming in. He caught the attention of the serving girl, the same lass who had been singing earlier.
"Will you still be serving two hours hence?" Ullin asked.
"Aye. I work all night, don't I?"
"I might like to close my eyes for a bit," Ullin said, offering her a large silver coin. "If you see to it that I'm awake in two hours, you'll have another of those."
"I'd be happy to do so! Thank ye, sir!"
Ullin watched her slip the coin into her apron and move off to the next booth. He shifted his shoulder bag beneath his cloak
around and behind him and slouched back upon it. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he pulled his travel cloak across his knees, and underneath, put his hand on the dagger hilt at his belt.
As much as he needed and desired sleep, it did not seem to come to Ullin as easily as it once had, particularly since the odd and uncanny experience in Forest Mistwarren. These days, when he did find sleep, it did not seem as restful as before, his dreams not as peaceful nor as sweet as they once had been. Little things perturbed him and kept slumber away, like the call of night birds that never bothered him before, the puff of wind through the trees, or the chatter of talk.
So, while the hubbub of the tavern went on around him, accompanied by the clank of pewter tankards and the scrape of chairs pushed and pulled, Ullin was continually aroused from his nap. Once, when he felt the shift of the backboard behind him, he fully woke, gripping his dagger more firmly and sitting up. But it was only the occupants of the next booth taking their seats. Glancing at the clock, he saw he had nearly a full hour longer to wait, so, frowning, he slumped back down and closed his eyes to try again. He did not sleep again right away, for the voices of the men behind him intruded too much on his efforts.
"Yes, a list of places to look over," one man was saying to another.
"You must be joking."
"You can take it up with Vidican when you rejoin him. He'll want your report, regardless."
"Yes. Yes. But, look here, all these little villages, too? And back to Mimblewan, Lowtree, and then on to Umston. All the way up to Passdale and every little village in between? I'll have to cross the Saerdulin twice, back and forth."
"I know. No one else can be spared. And you know the lay of the land."
"You know that I'm to remain here until my relief comes. That's not for another three weeks. All told, it will be at least two months, or more, to get all this sightseeing done."
"Then arrange things so that Passdale will be your last stop before turning back south. By then, you'll not have to go but a week's travel, at most, to meet up with Vidican."
"He'll be that far along?"
The Bellringer Page 26
