A hard bump shook the ship as it came to a halt against the New Portsmouth docks. David steadied himself, gathered his belongings, and quickly scrambled up the stairs. His stomach felt like it kicked him in the side, reminding him that he had not eaten properly in several days. His last full meal, served to him by Drake and Jolina, seemed like weeks ago. David shook his head as the memories started to flood back.
“Are ye alright there, fellah?” asked one of the crewmen, standing at the top of the stairs. “Ye need a hand within yer pack there?”
“I’m fine!” David snapped, pulling his pack away from the man’s outstretched hand.
“If’n ye say so, boy.” The crewman looked past David, ready to help the next passenger with their bags.
“Actually, sir,” David said trying to force some humility, “If you could tell me where I might buy passage to Avonshire or Port Cirill…”
The crewman looked back at David and began to laugh.
David clenched his fists as he could feel the pressure behind his eyes and in his ears begin to grow. “I fail to see what is so funny!”
The man continued to laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, lad!” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “There won’t be no passage out a’ New Portsmouth ‘til well after the comin’ battle be done. Yer best bet be to get abor’tn a Privateer’s ship, an’ wit’ that there guild a’raisin their dues, that’ll cost ye a silver spoon er two!”
“A silver spoon?” David said, a confused expression on his face.
“He means it will cost more money than you’ve got, scamp! Now move it!” The older man behind him followed up the comment with a hard poke in David’s back.
David stepped out onto the deck, squinting to allow his eyes to adjust to the full level of the morning sunlight. He was quickly shuffled along the single-file line that led from the below deck stairs to the gangplank.
New Portsmouth was a very different looking place than Lysta. The city had been built on commerce, rather than industry. The buildings were built higher and closer together, often leaving no space between them. The noise from the dockside market carried across the riverboat. From what he could see, most of the vendors sold metal products such as weapons, pots and pans, and tools. David figured that most of the goods unloaded from the riverboats were crafted in Lystra or Kheog. People milled about from booth to table to kiosk, bartering and examining the goods.
“I’ve never seen the dockside market so empty,” said one of the ship’s more portly crewmembers at the bottom of the gangplank.
David stepped onto solid ground. He inhaled deeply, but only smelled smoke before the coughing fit started.
“Oy, y’alright there? Don’t ye be spreadin’ plague on this ship!” the crewman said to David.
David spat some phlegm onto the wooden docks and nodded. “So the market is usually more crowded than this?” In truth, it seemed plenty crowded to him.
The crewman nodded, scratching his balding head. “Aye. Usually when we come in from Lystra with our hold filled, the market is already packed. It can be hard to fight your way from table to table. But, I’m sure word reached here of what happened, and of the invasion.”
David nodded.
“You know,” the crewman said, pulling David aside a bit, “I once met Lord Ki Kalendeen. I was brought before him on charges of swindling a Lystra-based merchant on some Decian silk. I was innocent, of course, but I figured that since the merchant paid taxes to Ki Kalendeen, I would be found guilty. But God bless Lord Alexander. He realized the bastard’s story didn’t hold water and made him reimburse me for the entire shipment.”
David’s stomach shook and burned as he listened to the story. He was thankful that he was able to hold back the tears at thinking about his Father.
“Fine man, that one. And a great warrior, he was. Did you know he was the only General to knock down the walls of the city of Denning? Them walls stood for 500 years before that, they did.”
“Yes, sir, I have heard that story,” David replied. Part of him wanted to run away screaming, purging any thought of his former life from him. Another part wanted to stay and cling to every word the man said about his family.
The man who had poked David on the staircase made his way off of the gangplank. "You talking about Ki Kalendeen? Oh, don't get me started on him. He had a hell of a lot of nerve calling himself a noble. Always pandering to the underclass, and keeping his boot heel on the throats of the mining and smithing guilds. No. Military men aren't meant to run cities, at least not the size of Lystra. Gillingham or New Portsmouth, maybe. But I think in the long run, Lystra will be better off with him out of the way. In fact…"
The man continued to drone on, making up David's mind for him, turning and walking away before he became violent. The plump sailor muttered "Insolent Jackass" under his breath and went back to work, also ignoring the purple-clad merchant's unending speech.
David had never been to New Portsmouth before, and making his way to the bayside docks from the riverside docks took a lot more effort than he originally thought. Lystra was laid out in a grid, with the only exception being the north and south bank River Roads. New Portsmouth was a maze of winding, twisting, and intersecting roads that followed no seeming order whatsoever. The people of this town were different, too. In Lystra, everyone seemed to have a determined purpose as they moved along the city. Everyone in this city seemed less focused. They were always looking around for bargains, or watching over their shoulder. An inordinate number of people looked away and ignored David when he asked for directions to the ocean. Even a few guards took a handful of coppers to get correct directions out of.
Walking through the tight crowds made David extremely uncomfortable. Three times, he caught someone with their hands near his sack. One young boy even managed to get the flap untied and opened before David realized what was going on and knocked him to the ground.
He only stopped moving once, to buy some honey rolls and fresh bacon from a kiosk. David forced himself to eat the entire meal, even though his stomach was no longer accustomed to large amounts of solid food. But, at least he had something to eat, he thought, and it didn't taste of smoke. However, ten minutes later, the heavy meal was sitting in his gut like a pile of rocks.
Once high noon had passed, it was easier to navigate, as he only had to walk away from the sun. As he walked, the buildings began to look older, leaning to one side, wood warped with age. The continuous streetside market seemed to dwindle, as the class of the citizenry began to sink. Merchants and flamboyantly-dressed hucksters were replaced by seamen and dockworkers, who wore drab-colored shirts, sturdy pants, and thigh boots. Every other building was a tavern or hotel. Most were empty, as it was prime working hours. Men hauled barrels and pushed carts to either the warehouses or the markets. A few scantily-clad women in one building called out to passing dockworkers. Even from where he was, David could see that their corsets were so tight, he wondered how they could breathe, let alone call out in such loud, screeching voices.
Hefting his pack up with a jingle, David continued on. As he rounded a corner, the sight he beheld and the feeling that washed over him left him speechless. The cool and moist sea breeze blew gently across his body, raising the hair on his arms and neck. The sparkling blue ocean stretched out as far as his eye could see. He had read books about it, but they did not do the magnificence of the sea justice. The ships that stood at the docks were huge, with masts at least twenty legs tall. Weaves of rope so intricate that David could barely follow them ran from the sides of the boats to the masts. The sails were now down on most of the docked boats, except for one, which was sailing into the harbor. The flag it flew was gold with something black in the middle. At this distance, David couldn't make it out. Dockworkers ran out to the dock to catch the mooring ropes the crew of the two-masted ship tossed out.
"Lookie there, mates." A large man in a gray wool sweater, smoking a pipe was speaking to
three others. "He lives."
All four men wore dingy brown wool caps. Three of them wore an odd looking beard with no mustache, which David had never seen before. The fourth man's mustache was so outlandishly long, in curled up at the ends a good inch beyond the man's face on either side.
"I thought Gaceric put a bounty out on him," said another of the men.
"Aye, he did," replied the mustache man. "And what with him shirking The Guild as well, I'm surprised he has the balls to even put in to shore south of Gylinia. And in a Guild-run port as well!"
The man with the pipe chuckled. "Karinga has pissed off Gaceric so many times, we should watch well and remember this occasion. This could be the last time we see the Waverunner in one piece." All four men broke into fits of laughing, snorting, and chortling. "Admiral Gaceric will pay a hefty price for Karinga's head. Well, when he makes his way to the Salt Spray Inn tonight, we may just have to pay him a bit of a visit." With that, they resumed their laughing.
One of the men noticed David watching them. He reached over and grabbed David by the wrist. He gave a wide, brown-toothed grin and pulled him closer. The man's breath reeked as if Iberian nightshade-hoarding squirrels had died farting in his mouth. "Hey, boy! Wandering eyes get gouged out, and wagging tongues get cut off!" David tried to pull away hard with all his might, and the man let go, sending David toppling to the street with a thud and a jingle. Three of the four men began to laugh, but the one who had been smoking the pipe hauled off and smacked brown-teeth in the shoulder.
"What's the matter with you men?" The others half stopped their laughter, not sure if the pipe-smoking man was serious. He reached down and offered David his hand.
David hesitated.
"Come on, boy. I won't bite you. Old Pem here is just a bit antsy. That Karinga fellow is a murderous Pirate with a nice-sized bounty on his head. We were just fantasizing a bit about collecting it."
David took the man's hand and was pulled to his feet. The other men were looking thoroughly confused. "I'm Kirby. These lads are Pembroke, Thrasher, and Kyle." The other three gave an unsure nod.
"Hey, Kirb, what's the game here?" Asked Thrasher.
"Well, from what I can see here, the lad is probably looking for passage out of New Portsmouth. Am I right?"
"Yes, sir. To Port Cirill." David said.
"There ain't no passage out of New Portsmouth, lad. Not for purchase, anyway. But, our Captain is putting out to sea tomorrow, and I'm sure he could use a good rat catcher on the boat."
David tried not to frown. The rat catchers that were employed in the castle were always the lowest of the low. Thieving orphans and street urchins put to work rather than being put in prison. But, if it would get him out of harm’s way, he would take it.
"But Kirb, I thought Midge was the lad Cap…" The mustache man was interrupted by Kirby stepping back on his foot. "Ow!" he cried.
"Shut up, Kyle!" He turned his attention back to David. "So, what do you say, boy? Catch some rats for your passage?"
"Um… I guess so, sir."
The man smiled as he hit his pipe against his hand, removing the spent ash. "Good. We'll take you to see Captain Blackjack right now, in fact."
A wave of understanding swept through the other men, and they began nodding their heads in agreement. "Oh, yeah, Captain Blackjack will just love you, lad!"
"Come on." Kirby put his hand on David's shoulder and tried to lead him to the west.
"But sir, isn't that your ship?" David asked, pointing at the large three-masted ship docked practically in front of them.
"Uh, yes, it is, lad. But the Captain wouldn’t be on board right now. Old Blackjack likes to head inland a bit for a good meal and such."
David shrugged and allowed himself to be led to the west. They walked about a block before the men stopped.
"Here, lad. Down this alley. It will be quicker."
David trotted down the alley ahead of the four men. Daylight quickly turned into shadows, and the smell of old garbage and piss wafted through the part of the city untouched by the cleansing sea breeze.
Pain suddenly exploded in the back of David's head at the base of his skull. The world began to spin as the four men set upon him. He tried in vain to hold on to the pack, but the brown-toothed man wrenched it from his clinging hand. A boot slammed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled to his hands and knees only to be struck again in the ribs. Another boot kicked him in the face and blood poured from his nose. The mocking laughter of the four men could be heard through his pain as two of them went through his pack, screaming with delight. The other two continued to beat him mercilessly.
David cried out at the top of his lungs.
"Oh, bloody hell, he'll bring the watch. Just blackjack him again! I knew that pack was full of gold when I heard him hit the ground!" said Kirby.
There was another dull thud on the back of David's head. Pressure rushed through his ears, and everything began to fade.
"What about we search him, Kirb?" David heard in the distance through his pain.
A pair of hands quickly frisked his body, stopping at his knees. He willed his body to move, but it wouldn't.
"It's the watch! Let's go!"
"And one more for luck!" David heard. A kick walloped into the side of his head, and everything went black.
* * * * * *
Gabriel sat on a hard wooden stool next to Jonathan’s infirmary bed as one of the student healers changed the bandages on his side. The wounded, brown-haired initiate winced as the healer applied a little too much pressure.
“Keep still, sir. Almost done.” The healer replaced the bed robe and pulled the wool blanket back over Jonathan’s prone form. “There. All done.”
Gabriel and Jonathan watched the thin young man leave the room before they began speaking.
“So this is how you get out of weapons training, you lazy sloth,” Gabriel said with a wide grin.
“I think the surgeons should teach them to have a more gentle touch,” said Jonathan, adjusting his body with a wince of pain, ignoring Gabriel’s comment. “Between El poking me and that fellow and his way of hammering on these bandages… What’s next, a bloodletting?”
Gabriel chuckled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Oh, come on. You’re a Rothschild. You’re strong. You’ll be fine. I’m surprised to hear you complain about things here. When Tobias volunteered us to clean the pit under the lavatory, you were the only one of us who didn’t gripe. You hardly said a word.”
“I was locking my jaw down to keep from throwing up breakfast! Believe me, I was calling the fires upon his hide to myself. Speaking of, do you know how he did with his Test of Knowledge?”
Gabriel shook his head. “No, I’ve been trying to find El all day.”
“Oh, she was here this morning. She said she went by your room after the morning meal, but you had already left.”
“Actually I was still asleep.”
Jonathan smiled. “Well, you’ve earned it.”
“Do you know where she went after she left you?” asked Gabriel.
“She was going to see Argos’s daughter and spend the afternoon with her.”
Gabriel’s mood turned and he clenched his fists.
Jonathan gave a pained laugh. “Calm yourself, my friend. I fail to see why that makes you so angry!”
Gabriel glanced down with a frown at his wounded friend. "Please, Jonathan. El is nobility. Argos is a commoner and a trouble maker. Who is she to teach my sister how to fight? Her and that MacLeod friend of hers. Women shouldn't bother themselves with that. No, one day El is going to marry a Lord or a prince, or even a King. The last thing she needs is to have herself mixed up with a hoyden like Janelle Argos!"
Jonathan sighed. "If you say so. But I don't think you'll be able to stop her, so you might as well… tolerate it."
Gabrie
l grumbled. Jonathan was right, as much as he didn't want to admit it to himself. Eleenia had always been as stubborn as an untrained scent hound. At least she would be going back to Lystra soon, he thought. There, she would have a better chance of being arranged with a prince, or a Lord's son. And Alexander had always said they all would be welcome to stay in the castle for as long as they liked after father died.
That thought brought a cold feeling into the pit of Gabriel's stomach. The same cold feeling he had this morning when he was half dreaming and half awake.
"So what do you think they have Demetrius doing right now?" asked Jonathan, bringing Gabriel back to the present.
Gabriel shrugged. "Probably shoveling pig filth with the way he spoke to Father Alexis yesterday," he chuckled. "I can hear him now belly aching about the tasks he has to perform. I've wanted to smack him more than once myself for that."
"Aye. I wonder how many times we could have avoided being chest deep in maggot-infested, sun-ripened garbage if he had just kept his mouth shut. I’ve silently cursed the entire Pinkerton family for what Demetrius has gotten us into."
"I feel sorry for the other initiates in the group he gets assigned to, but at least you will not be stationed with him anymore."
Jonathan nodded. "Poor soul. I do hope he submits and begins to follow the rules. He is a good person, deep down. And I know that one day, he will make a fine Holy Defender."
Gabriel gave a doubtful look. “Maybe. I think he’ll end up at Coldar’s Springs when he holds the Angelic Blade.”
“Well, it’s not for us to judge. Do you know when you will be having your own initiates?”
“No. I will report to Brother Morland the day after the Sabbath. Thanks to the war, the number of initiates entering the church is dwindling sharply. It may be some time, so I imagine I’ll be spending a good deal of time with the books and scrolls.”
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