“They do not look too happy to me Kap’n,” Aledd muttered as he scanned around the bay for more boats. There were plenty, all small fishing vessels strewn at regular intervals along the shore line. Thom studied them and noted that many were pulling baskets from the sea attached to wooden buoys. He followed the mad waving of the irate fishermen below and realised that the Brig was anchored in the middle of their patch of sea. They were angrily pointing to the buoy that floated ship side of the anchor cable as it disappeared into the blue water. He laughed suddenly at the realisation that they were being accused of impeding the fishermen’s haul of lobster or crabs and turned away ignoring the expletives being cast in his direction, in a tongue he could not begin to follow.
“You know what bothers them?” Aledd queried, surprised at Devlin’s behaviour. He himself felt perturbed by these angry little men with slant eyes and black hair.
“They want their lobster pots Dafidd that is all. Grab a grappling hook and free the buoy from our chain. They will go away happy once they have their catch,” Thom returned and went back to the semi shade of his battered awning.
As the sun dipped behind the dark mass of the volcano the tide turned once more and now that his men were rested and fed Kapitan Devlin ordered boats lowered and fixed forward from where the crew could pull the Brig towards the city. Sheltered as the bay was it did not offer the amount of protection Thom would have liked and the rains of the afternoon had brought with them surprisingly strong winds that tossed the beaten ship alarmingly at her anchor. The sooner they could make safe harbour the better.
The oarsmen pulled their last stroke and the helm guided the stricken vessel to the quayside just as the lanterns were being lit around the bustling little port that served the city of Hana-Shi-Ku. Alert to potential danger Thom and his crew surveyed the scene before them, anxious of their welcome.
There were no other ships to match the Rose for size, she domineered the many small boats, most of which seemed to be some kind of fishing junk with lateen rig. The smaller boats varied from moderate sized, two masted vessels designed to venture into the open ocean to the single sailed boat that the pirates had seen throughout the bay all day. Many of the latter were offloading their catch now and the quay teemed with men carrying baskets of fish to and fro through the steady rain.
Beyond the harbour the city sprawled in a messy tangle of two storey wooden buildings whose design was unlike any the sailors of the Rose had seen before, although they did bear a vague resemblance to the houses of the Tailan people. These were plain up to the roofs, which were tile clad and curved upwards at the eaves where the protruding wood was carved into a decorative shape.
Lights flickered into life behind darkened windows. People hurried about their business in the downpour and the growing gloom, but bizarrely no one paid the large ship and its occupants much notice. Quiet, surreptitious glances were cast in the Rose’s direction, but none came to question her taking residence in their harbour. It was a welcome that unnerved Thom for it was one he had never encountered before.
“What do you think Dafidd? Seem oddly incurious,” he muttered to the First Mate.
“Dunno Kap’n. Ain’t normal for no one to pay us no heed. Maybe they’re used to ships turnin’ up out of the blue,” Aledd answered lamely. His commander grinned at the remark.
“Well, let us tie off and we shall see what happens if we set foot in this place,” he instructed and continued to gaze around the little port as his men went about their duties.
A half hour later, the rain had stopped and Thom had his crew gathered on the quarter deck waiting for his orders. They were quiet and wary, but he could sense their curiosity, their desire to get ashore and no doubt avail themselves of whatever entertainment they might find here. To some extent he shared that wish, but as yet he was still cautious and not prepared to take chances. He drew in a deep breath and prepared to stress the importance of sobriety and vigilance when the lookout drew his attention to the quayside.
“I think we ‘ave visitors Kap’n,” the man called and pointed overboard.
Devlin and most of his crew dashed to the gunwales to see a band of seven men, dressed in what looked like long skirts or very baggy trousers with a wide sleeved jacket crossed about their torsos and held fast by a wide sash. All wore their black hair tied in a top knot and all had the same slanting eyes that the fishermen had. Their skin was tanned quite dark save for one man who was taller and more richly dressed than the rest in dark red and black silk clothing. For some moments both groups of men stared at each other in silence, before the tall, lighter skinned man, his hands hidden within the sleeves of his jacket, uttered something in his native tongue to one of the men by his side. The man stepped forward, bowed and then spoke, but his words, though sounding vaguely familiar and not at all in his own language, were incomprehensible to the sailors aboard the Brig.
“What did he say Kap’n?” the pirate nearest to Thom asked.
“How the hell should I know,” Thom muttered back irritated that his men continued to think that he had suddenly become proficient in all the world’s languages.
The man on the quayside looked dismayed that his words were not understood and he turned to the tall man and shrugged his shoulders talking rapidly. The tall, well dressed man nodded and uttered a very curt command. The linguist bowed and ran from the scene. Once more silence prevailed, the men on the dock soundlessly observing the sailors on the Brig and the sailors watching them.
“What they doin’?” Aledd whispered.
“Waiting for the other fella to return I think,” Devlin replied equally low, his eyes never leaving the obvious leader of the visitors.
At length the linguist returned and with him he brought another, a short balding man nearing middle age who squinted myopically up at the Rose as he approached. He was dressed as the others and bowed very low when he reached the tall man. The latter spoke rapidly to him and the little man nodded his understanding. Turning to the ship, the short-sighted stranger bowed once more and spoke in a high clear voice. His accent was strangely clipped, but his words were unmistakeable.
“Sachiko-san wishes you welcome and asks what your business is,” he pronounced business phonetically.
Relieved that someone spoke Westlandish, Thom smiled at the mispronunciation. “We ran into a storm and as you can see our ship is in need of repair. We would be grateful if you would allow us to enter your city and affect our repairs. We can pay well,” he added the latter so that it was understood that his intentions were solely honest. The little man turned to the other seven on the quayside and repeated Thom’s words in his native Ashiman.
Sachiko listened intently and nodded. He smiled broadly and spoke to the man next to him. “What do you make of our visitors Fuyuki? Are they to be trusted do you think? They wear a uniform of sorts, but I do not think they are men of any legitimate navy. They are evidently not from Sealand or the Land of Great Dryness. They did not understand Chikuma’s words.”
“Buccaneers Sachiko-san. We have seen the like before. They are from the Westlands. I would not trust them Sir. Not men like that,” Fuyuki answered his eyes flicking to the men aboard the Brig.
“Hmmm. Yet they have offered payment. If they are buccaneers then they will carry much gold. Their business will be good for the city,” Sachiko continued with a wry smile.
“If they do not ransack the place. Sir, I strongly suggest that you do not allow them entry,” Fuyuki warned.
“Your concern is noted, but I am willing to allow them what they desire. They are few and we are many. I do not think they will cause too much trouble and the gold they offer is most welcome.
“Tell them they are most welcome and that they should treat the city as their home whilst they carry out their repairs,” Sachiko instructed the short linguist.
“But Sir…” Fuyuki began to protest. Sachiko held up his hand rapidly cutting his subordinate short.
“This is business Fuyuki,” he snapped and ur
ged the linguist to translate his words.
“Sachiko-san, First Minister of city of Hana-Shi-Ku, bids you most welcome and offers assistance to mend ship,” the myopic shouted up to Devlin in his accented Westlandish.
“I bet he does,” Aledd smirked, “Can’t wait to get his hands on our gold.”
“Come now Mr Aledd, we cannot take without giving payment. At least that is what they must think of us until we are sure there is no threat to our leaving when the job is done. They think us a rich merchantman no doubt. Let them believe tis so. I have no intention of giving them any of our hard won gains, but they must think us honest. Smile Dafidd, we are most welcome remember,” Thom muttered back. He leaned forward to the men below and shouted down.
“Sir, we are honoured and grateful for your hospitality. My name is Kapitan Thom Devlin and I am at your service,” he bowed respectfully and suppressed the urge to laugh when the party on the quayside did likewise after the little man had informed them of his speech.
“Linguist, you will stay with these men. You speak their tongue. Request that the Kapitan and his first officer join me for dinner this evening. Report back to me everything they do and say. Is that understood?” Sachiko instructed. The little man bowed and intimated that he understood and though he did not relish his task as it took him from his work at the trade office, he was too afraid of the First Minister to refuse. As Sachiko and his entourage left the scene he stayed and nervously fidgeted on the dockside.
“I think we have a chaperone Kap’n,” Aledd said with a laugh in his voice as he watched the short man dithering below them.
Thom grinned widely. “Better invite him aboard then Dafidd,” he instructed.
The linguist came at the request and bowed long and low to the amassed sailors before him. As he stood he took in their appearance, the fact that they wore a simple uniform of cropped grey trousers and black box jacket with yellow neckerchiefs around their throats with the exception of the man who called himself Kapitan, his kerchief was red. He had seen similar garb in others that came from the west or from Sealand, but he had not encountered exactly this dress before. He thought their tanned faces, with big round eyes, strangely disquieting. They had the look of men who spent their lives at sea and he understood how such men acted when first ashore after a long voyage. He had little doubt that they would avail themselves of alcohol and women at the first opportunity. It made his job easier yet it did nothing to make him feel at ease.
“My name is Akika Kouhei. I am translator at Hana-Shi-Ku trade office. You have never been in Ashima before?” he began with a smile which crinkled his almond eyes into mere slits.
“No this is our first visit Mr Kouhei. We are most impressed by our welcome,” Thom replied.
The translator laughed heartily and even more so when the Kapitan exchanged a questioning look with his First Mate.
“Have I said something funny?” he muttered to Aledd. Aledd simply shrugged grinning inanely at the visitor.
“Please forgive. I am wrong to laugh. My first name is Kouhei. In Ashima we say family name first. So you see. I am Mr Akika and you are Kapitan Devlin. I am not incorrect?” the translator explained.
“No you are not incorrect. You know more of our ways than I do of yours Sir,” Thom answered with a smile.
“You honour me. It is my work to know. I am to be guide. I help you get repairs,” Kouhei informed and then added, “Illustrious First Minister wishes you and first officer dine with him this evening. I suggest you accept request.”
Devlin and Aledd shared an expression of curiosity, eyebrows raised, before the Kapitan accepted the invitation.
“Good, good. It is well,” the little man beamed and went on to beg them to carry out their toilette, as he called it, reassuring the Kapitan that his men could get food, drink and entertainment at a house not too far from the harbour.
A little after moonrise Thom and Dafidd followed the diminutive Kouhei through the cramped streets of Hana-Shi-Ku in the worrying knowledge that three quarters of the crew were, at the same time, embarking on a night of debauchery and excess leaving only a miserable handful to guard the Rose. The two pirates had washed and changed from what they would freely admit were filthy, stinking clothes that had not left their backs for days, into something a little fresher, if not totally clean. His dark hair fastened back from his fine featured, tanned face, Devlin thought he cut quite a dashing figure in the nearly white shirt, grey breaches and boots. And, as far as he was concerned, Aledd was smart enough in similar attire, but their chaperone scowled with disapproval as they joined him by the gangplank before leaving.
“You have no clean clothes?” Kouhei commented in an accusatory tone.
“Er, these Mr Akika. There is little opportunity to wash clothes aboard a ship Sir,” Thom bit back not bothering to hide his irritation.
“You have much opportunity for laundry now Kapitan Devlin. I suggest you use time to do so,” Kouhei rejoined and before the pirates could retort further he marched from the ship urging them to hurry.
The residence of the First Minister was a grandiose building compared to the hovels that housed most of Hana-Shi-Ku’s population. It was constructed of stone for a start, rendered and painted white with three storeys and a steeply arched roof of brightly glazed tiles that shone purplish blue in the torchlight. It sat behind a high wall decorated much as the house and finished with a pair of ornately patterned gates which showed carved depictions of exotic birds and animals. Two guards were posted outside of the gates and as the party approached they challenged their business at the house by lowering spears and shouting in their aggressive sounding tongue. Kouhei answered their demands rapidly and, Thom thought, nervously, but whatever the little man said worked as the guards lifted their weapons and pushed open the gates.
“We may enter,” Kouhei said with some relief. He scurried forward into a courtyard lit by flaming torches that sent dancing, orange light all around and gave tantalising glances of a highly regimented garden. The translator had changed his clothing also, having taken his two companions on a detour to his humble home as he put it. He had rejoined them in his sitting room, where they were watched suspiciously and silently by three small children and Kouhei’s wife, wearing a long robe of dark blue silk. It had been evident that this garment was his best clothing as the man’s wife had hurried over and fussed around him ensuring everything was in place, as it should be. Following behind the translator towards the beckoning brightness of the grand house before them, Aledd could not help but smile at the little man’s discomfiture.
“He has put his best frock on and still he is nervous,” he muttered to Devlin. Thom grinned and suppressed a snigger.
“I think our friend is unused to dining with such auspicious people as ourselves Dafidd and I suppose this First Minister. What’s his name? Does not help put him at ease,” he joked then added, “Funny little man is he not? And as for the dress. All the men seem to wear them. I think tis you and I who will feel out of place.”
“Huh! I thought he was going to make us wear one at first. Over my dead body! No way am I wearing a bloody frock,” Dafidd continued to grumble making Thom snicker more.
“Something wrong?” Kouhei asked not quite hearing their discourse.
“No, no. Not at all Mr Akika. We were just discussing how much we have to learn of your customs.”
Kouhei frowned. “Yes, yes of course. Forgive me. I am remiss,” the translator begged misunderstanding and taking the remark as a chastisement from the visitors for not enlightening them upon etiquette. He remembered how his wife had muttered about them not removing their boots before they entered his home.
“At door we leave shoes behind. You put on soft slippers. It is rude to bring dirt into house. When greeting First Minister you bow. It is Ashima greeting. He is of high rank so you must bow lower than he. You may sit only when he offers you,” he continued.
Thom smiled, dipping his head in acknowledgement and choosing to ignore Dafidd�
��s quiet expletive.
“It is great honour to dine with First Minister,” Kouhei concluded obviously impressed that he was doing so.
“As you say Mr Akika and we are deeply honoured,” Devin replied his tone slightly mocking and his expression more so, but the irony was lost upon his guide. And so they entered the house.
In retrospect Thom was intrigued by the dinner invitation. It had been an odd experience with all conversation passing via the translator. The food had been good and interestingly different, though both he and Aledd had struggled, much to the amusement of those gathered, with the wooden sticks they were given to eat with. Kouhei tried to show them how to hold the thin strips, but Aledd was much too ham-fisted and Thom reverted to shovelling his food into his mouth by getting the bowl as near to his face as possible. At the end of the meal both pirates had telltale stains down their shirt fronts, but their host politely ignored their incompetence.
There had been a lot of questions, polite, but probing into their business. Why they were so far from the Westlands, how long they intended to stay, what their cargo was? Thom had found one lie leading to another and something of Sachiko’s expression told him that he fooled no one. He tried to put the interrogation down to mere curiosity, yet deep down he thought there was another agenda.
He had been struck by the appearance of the First Minister and the rest of his party. All wore the same kind of robe fastened with a wide sash that Kouhei did, but Sachiko’s was distinctly ornate. Red silk interwoven with gold dragons and his sash also was gold. His wife, who said nothing all evening, was similarly adorned and wore also several impressive jewels around her throat and within her hair. Her black silk robe was fastened with a pale blue, broad swathe of material and her skin was pale as milk, her lips painted bright red and eyes edged with black kohl. She was as beautiful as a child’s doll and looked equally as fragile as the porcelain faces of such toys. Neither Thom nor Aledd could stop their eyes drifting towards her. It had been months since they had seen any woman let alone one as lovely as this. Thom had attempted to speak to her via Mr Akika, but it was evident that she would not or was not allowed to fraternise with the visitors. She attended the dinner, like everyone else, to show how important and how rich the First Minister was. Like everything else in the gloriously sumptuous house, she was merely another asset, another symbol of Sachiko’s status.
Raven's Quest Page 4