The Ravens of Carrid Tower

by David c Black

  "Came into some nice work."

  "No work's nice work."

  "True. Let's call it, profitable work."

  "I'm listening."

  "We're looking for men like you. Big men. Ones that look like they can handle themselves. Know what I mean, friend?"

  "I can handle..." he burped. "...Myself."

  "I can see that. You sailed with the fishing boats? How long?

  "Last three seasons now."

  "Good. Know your way around a ship, can look after yourself in a scrap. Ever thought about becoming a professional?"

  "A pirate!?" He shouted loudly making heads on other tables turn to regard the outburst."

  "Careful there, Kirim." He said softly, lifting his hand a fraction in warning.

  "Err... Right. So anyway. Workin' like that yeh... peroo... fessional." He tried to wink but so deep in his cup, he had forgotten to keep the other eye open. "What'sa pay like, then ay?"

  "A silver a day."

  "A silver a day huh..." Whistling in pleasant surprise. "I'm in!"

  "Steady there, friend. You need to meet my boss. Check you out, make sure you are who you say you are. Understand?"

  "I ain't told you who I am yet."

  "I've seen enough, you'll be welcome. Here, take this silver now. Meet us here tomorrow lunch for a drink and chat."

  "Right you are" he said sweeping the coin from the man's hand.

  "Don't be late. Or too drunk, okay?"

  "Pirates honour!" He grinned before laughing so hard it turned into a coughing fit.

  "Staying for another round? On me this time, I got silver." He grinned wryly.

  "Aye, one more."

  "So this pira..." Checking himself, "...work stuff. What... What's that about then? Can we nick the Rose of Dror? That was the last ship I sailed with. Captain's a bastard too. Filthy thing though, that ship."

  "We aren't interested in fishing boats Kirim. Komet is building an armada."

  “A what?”

  The two drank long into the night, sharing tales of great deeds at sea. Troubles between factions and the impracticalities of some island fortresses that constantly need resupplying. Komet had done a remarkable job bringing together almost every pirate and half of the continent’s bandits, freelancers and street gangs into web of vice and enterprise that stretched far in land. Word's out though. Carrid are coming in the new year. Big recruitment drive. The fleet’s at anchor for winter at a place called Echovia and they will deal with the Carrid threat at winter’s break. The men haven't had pay rises in a year, but the bootie shares are decent. Komet calls himself a king and someone named Mikon is gaining popularity among the crews.

  Good haul.

  Kirim had enough information for Yarrian to work with already, but that was not his mission. He would relay the intelligence to his people in the town, who had already shed their town guard uniforms and helms and were making their own friends on the other side of the city.

  The assassin would arrive the next morning as agreed, albeit a quarter bell late looking even more bedraggled than the night before, stinking of alcohol. Two days later Kirim packed up his belongings, few that there were, into a single sack bag and after purchasing enough Drorean wine to fill the empty space, he walked onto the deck of the Soto Dreamer.

  “Where’s my cabin then?” He said abruptly to the first officer he could find.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Drorea

  Citalley had never been this far away from the Palace in Banforth, not even close, and they had barely been on the road for a couple of days. He sat in the second carriage to the front of the train of wagons each pulled by two large pack Elks. The Prince was dressed in a similar fashion to the men around him. Green tunics beneath polished steel breast plates, though like the Captain Tielli beside him, he had taken his barbuta helm off.

  "At the next suitable place order the men to stop for the night." He ordered.

  Citalley had authority in the Palace, but he had never commanded men. Certainly not men like these. Soldiers, veterans at that. Taller by at least a head and twice as broad as his own slight frame. His Captain had let them travel all the previous day without rest until just before nightfall. Only when Citalley commented on the matter did the officer inform him, with the subtlest air of smugness, that they would stop when he commanded it. They did not halt for a break because he had not ordered a rest. Citalley learned quickly from this and broke camp at dawns break, to the barely concealed irritation of the Captain and open annoyance from most of the warriors. This day, he had taken a great deal more interest in his surroundings, scanning for danger in the treelines, watching the faces and gait of the men around him to gauge their mood.

  Respect or distrust? Probably indifference.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Captain..."

  "Yes, highness."

  "Nothing, it doesn't matter."

  The Captain straightened his back in the carriage’s chair and the two looked out onto the leagues of rice fields either side of the raised road in silence. Long legged storks casually walked through the flooded paddy, occasionally diving elongated beaks into the water and pulling out a flailing fish.

  "Is there is any advice I can give, sir?"

  "Like yesterday?"

  "We... I thought you knew, you are the Crown Prince. The men believed you were working us hard to make a point."

  "I see."

  "But yes, I realised earlier than they did."

  "It's forgotten." Citalley said looking at the man next to him on the upholstered bench. "I have no battle experience, Captain." He admitted.

  "I know. We are not at war though my..."

  "That is not the point, I need someone who knows this craft beside me. I need to trust him."

  "Our loyalty to Drorea is unquestionable, highness." The Captain said defensively.

  "And no one is, Captain. No one is.” The Prince said quickly with a slightly appeasing tone. He paused briefly before continuing. “I want your support with leading the men."

  "You have it, highness."

  "I hope so." He said with raised spirits. "Let's begin then with anything you have noticed so far. Is there something I need to learn or do better? Am I missing anything?"

  The Captain smiled at that. "Tell your sister to listen to her mother and go home."

  "What? Dalia?" Citalley said with surprise.

  "Your sister is hiding in the sixth carriage. On the roof under some bags."

  "What!?" Citalley exclaimed, jumping out of his seat to stand before the Captain. "Why have you only just told me?"

  The officer stood, now towering over the young royal. The position though unintentional, was made worse by the short roof and him needing to bend his head forward beneath it. "We found her almost as soon as we left the East gate. She ordered us not to say anything to you until we reached the fort in Kadacia." He said defensively seeing the anger flare up in Citalley’s face.

  "I am the Prince."

  "She is the Princess."

  "Where is she?"

  Sixth carriage he remembered. He flew over the carriages door and marched quickly down the train of vehicles, pack Elk and war deer. So focused on the rebuke he was about to deliver that he had not noticed the soldiers beginning to stop, watch and very cautiously, gossip.

  She has gone too far this time, and what did he say? Mother... She knows. She will send riders here. Fuck.

  "Your highness, wait."

  Citalley ignored the man who awkwardly climbed out of the vehicle and raced as fast as he could to catch up with the Prince while trying in vain to preserve some semblance of decorum in front of his smirking men. Every one of whom knew what the uproar concerned.

  "Dalia! Get down here. Now!" The Prince shouted at the roof laden with canvas bags of grain.

  Nothing happened for a time until the nearest corner startled to ruffle. One bag fell, splitting on the floor as it landed and half the contents poured out. Then another was pushed through the hole and Dalia’
face appeared in the gap.

  "Yes, brother?"

  "This is outrageous!"

  “Isn't it! Mother sending you away like this."

  "I mean you!"

  "I'm not staying with her. And him."

  "They will send for you as soon as they find out, they probably already have."

  "They already have. I won't go."

  "They will pick you up and drag you back"

  "No, they won't these fine men here will protect their Princess."

  Before Citalley could voice another objection, a roaring cheer erupted behind him. Turning around he saw every soldier in the column forming up to watch the exchange.

  "Quiet there!" The Captain shouted.

  "See" Dalia said defiantly. "I'm going nowhere."

  "You will do what you’re told."

  "Don't act like the big man in front of me brother."

  "Dalia!" Citalley said starting to flush. A flicker in his sister’s eye hinted at the realisation of a mistake. Citalley grabbed her by the arm and walked her back to the second carriage roughly. "You men get back in line." He shouted angrily.

  The Captain stood watching the young Prince dragging his sister by the elbow, then motioned to the sergeant for them to get the column moving.

  "Don't you dare undermine me in front of the men again. How dare..."

  "I'm sorry." She said sincerely.

  Citalley wasn't expecting an apology so quickly. So easily. He searched her face suspiciously for any hint of deception or a trap.

  "Why are you here?"

  "I told you, she is unstable. I won't stay in the Palace alone with them."

  "You have an entire wing. You could avoid them for weeks while living like a... well a Princess. You have no idea what you have got yourself into Dalia. This is rough country."

  "No Citalley, it is you who have no idea."

  "Don't pretend you are here to help me. I can look after myself."

  "You can’t. And yes, if you must know I am here to help you. They are going to eat you alive."

  "Who?"

  "Your men, idiot. Those men out there, the army of them we’re driving to."

  "I am their commander."

  "You are their evening’s entertainment. A lamb fresh from the Palace, dropped amongst the wolves."

  "You exaggerate again. Last time you wanted me to kill Nathalian and now what?"

  "You wouldn't be here if you had done what you needed to do Citalley. What you didn't have the balls to do."

  "I'm not a murderer."

  "You're not a soldier either."

  "I..."

  "But you will be brother. You must be."

  "And you are to help with this? The same accusations could be thrown back at you. What do you know?"

  "I'm here because I want to be. And I want to send mother a message that I do not approve of her newest lover. While I am here though…" She said looking at her brother now in the eyes. "I will help you earn the men's respect. Stop you from doing anything stupid and see which of them wants a dagger in your back."

  "And when the riders come?"

  "That is your first opportunity."

  "How so?"

  "Remind them who is the Crown Prince, next in line to the throne of Drorea. And everyone else watching."

  Citalley smiled at that. Yes. He could put on a show.

  Let's have a little shout.

  "Fine. You can stay. For now."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Taleese

  Bo woke the morning after his arrival needing to peel himself away from sweat soaked sheets. The heat was stifling and he was thankful for the light breeze that caught the canvas curtains, making them billow slowly back and forth. Dust hung in the air and he lay on the bed watching the tiny particles float across the suns ray. Tiring of that and growing thirsty, the boy jumped out of bed and started dressing. Grabbing a coin purse from his sack, he left the Inn and walked out onto the Talon streets for the first time in the daylight. Looking around to take it all in he was struck once more by the noise and activity within the city walls.

  There’s someone selling something everywhere you look.

  Bo had eaten little the night before and his head was still recovering from the alcohol. Breakfast was provided for the guests, but he had not listened to the lady at the desk during check-in, eager as he was to get the keys and some sleep.

  Laxis' damned whiskey.

  The search for lodgings was abandoned quickly the moment Bo walked past an unusual restaurant filled with foreigners eating from bowls of hot red soup with oversized wooden spoons. Many of the patrons looked to him at least, thoroughly Northern. Pale skin with patches of sun burn on shoulders, necks and noses. Grey or salt and pepper hair everywhere, except for on their heads.

  I’m the youngest here by at least twenty cycles.

  More than a few heads turned to see the young man, cautiously weaving between tables to reach the counter at the back. Unsure what to say, he pointed at a pot of the steaming liquid with unknown chunks of meat that seemed the most popular option.

  "Want rice with that?" She replied in perfect Carridean.

  "Err, yes. Please." He said, a little taken aback with her fluency.

  "Water is over there." Pointing to a large ceramic pot with a metal ladle tied to the rim.

  "Thank you."

  Finding a seat furthest away from the other diners as possible, he chanced a few glances around the room to see the right way to eat the meal.

  I can use a spoon, but what are the two sticks for? Bo wondered as he stabbed at a piece of meat and put it in his mouth.

  A thin man with short silver hair on the table next to him caught his eye and smiled with a grin missing at least two teeth. Recognising the boy’s confusion said, “they’re for picking not poking.”

  He’s from the Tower. From the roll of those ‘O’s, born on the third level.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Like this, see.” Demonstrating for the boy how to use the sticks like pincers to extract items from the bowl.

  “Thank you.”

  "Very welcome lad. Been here long?" His two friends now turning to look at Bo too.

  "Just arrived. First morning here."

  "Oh. Well, welcome to Talon." A bald man furthest from him said, while picking some debris out of his grey bushy beard.

  "Thank you."

  "You a teacher?”

  "No, I'm here for business."

  "A little young to be a merchant, ain't ya?

  "Am I?"

  "He's only teasing. Ignore him, we all do. What's your name?"

  "Bo."

  "Well Bo, I'm Ranon and this here is Gomes.” He said pointing to the bearded man. “And that's Phondock." Introducing the oldest and by far the shortest of the three. His round, slightly bent spectacles and warm smile immediately put Bo at ease.

  "How long have you all been here?"

  "A few cycles lad. Phondock's lived in Talon the longest."

  "Coming on forty cycles."

  "It must have changed a lot?"

  "You can't imagine Bo. I came here with the church at about your age, maybe a bit older."

  "The church?"

  "He lasted two moons." Ranon cut in winking at Gomes.

  "It wasn't for me Bo. Anyway, why come to Talon?"

  Before Bo could answer, Gomes suddenly declared, "he got caught with a girl!"

  "Let’s drop it" Phondock said as his friends struggled to contain themselves.

  "Still with her?" Bo asked, unsure what to say.

  Ranon and Gomes burst into laughter. "She was the Bishop's daughter!"

  “Oh”

  "They tried to send me back, so I just left the church and stayed here. Then met these two idiots a few cycles later. Should have gone back to the tower now that I think about it."

  "Do you all work here?"

  "I run a guest house not far from here. These lazy bastards don't do nothing but drink. You got board sorted?" Ranon asked.
<
br />   "Yes, I booked the Three Feathers for another few nights."

  "Stay where you are." Gomes said, nicer than the hovel he calls a guest house."

  "It's not that bad!?"

  "I wouldn't let my dog sleep there."

  "He sleeps outside anyway."

  "Exactly, better the street."

  Bo smiled at this, there was something comforting in the way the three old men mocked each other constantly.

  "Found your bearings yet?"

  "He's only just arrived, Phondock."

  "And... he looks like a sharp one."

  "Er… No not yet, I was dropped off last night and it was dark. I want to find more permanent accommodation today though, if I can."

  "What's your budget?"

  "Not much."

  "Just find somewhere for a moon or so, you won’t be there long."

  "What do you mean?" He said a little confused. All three men were smiling now with amusement.

  "You watch Bo, when word gets out that another young man from Carrid is in town they will be lining up to meet you."

  "Who will?"

  "The women, of course!" Gomes said and the other two started laughing as a flush took Bo's cheeks.

  "Really?"

  "Aye, there's a few youngens like you here."

  "They don’t stay bachelors for long." Ranon continued.

  "Really?"

  "Yes Bo. You will be living in some rich maiden’s villa before you know it, I’ll put money on it."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because it’s happened to every young foreigner we've met so far."

  "It's true, they hang around the bars for a few moons chasing women, and then... Gone. Disappeared into the estates. Caught by a superior predator and never to be seen again."

  "'Well, rarely anyway."

  "On a tight leash..."

  "Did that happen with you three?" Bo asked.

  The men started laughing again. "Not us old crusties. We've got wives aye, but they..."

  "...Are crusty too!" Gomes shouted and the other two erupted into unchecked laughter. Everyone in the restaurant had turned to see what was causing the commotion. When the men had calmed down a little, Gomes leaned down the table and put his hand on Bo's shoulder. "In all seriousness lad, watch out for the women. You have options here, don't jump in with the first one you meet."