A Voyager Without Magic

by Guy Antibes

  Wheels began to clatter as the carriage rolled on Port Hassin’s cobbles. It stopped at the Port Hassin constabulary. The three of them took their meager belongings and trudged in to report to Commander Ilsur.

  They were stopped at the front counter, but Ilsur rushed out to greet them. He escorted them across the street for a late lunch. All three contributed to their aspect of the adventure.

  “Your possessions are on The Twisted Wind. Captain Darter was in a quandary about having to leave without you, but the Vaarekian professor still hasn’t arrived,” Ilsur said.

  “I was about to request an army to save you, but I guess I don’t have to do that now. Ahman wouldn’t lift a finger to help you.”

  “And it was a good thing,” Sam said.

  “I suppose so. If we had plunged ahead, we’d all be dead or prisoners with nothing to show for it.”

  Desmon chuckled. “Or we would all be sitting here talking about how Sam saved us from the evil Vaarekian.”

  Banna grunted. “The sultan even had this evil Vaarekian in his clutches,” she said with a speck of humor.

  “So what do you want to do next?” Ilsur said. “I do have a vizier coming to talk about raising the army. I think it would be a good idea for you to spend some time with the man,” Ilsur said to Sam. “You might get a better sense for the upper reaches of Wollian society. Right, Desmon?”

  The sailor merely looked away, but he turned back. “Which vizier?”

  “Pamon Tandar,” Ilsur said, smirking.

  Desmon’s face dropped. “Not him.”

  “I am afraid so.”

  Desmon looked shaken. “I suppose I’ll be heading back to the ship.” He got up from the table and left them.

  “Is there an issue between Desmon and Vizier Tandar?” Banna asked.

  “Tandar is Desmon’s brother-in-law. They do not get along and have drifted to opposite ends of the same faction.”

  Sam was surprised. “Aren’t those in the same factions allies? Friends?”

  Ilsur nodded. “I am in the same faction, but I am in the middle.”

  “What defines the two sides?”

  Ilsur leaned back. “That is easy enough, Desmon is for expanding Wollia’s horizons, and Pamon isn’t. The vizier would rather Wollia withdraw from the world.”

  “How could they be in the same faction, then?”

  “Faction ties are more complex than based strictly on political views. You will see that Pamon’s viewpoints are broader than Desmon is willing to admit.” Ilsur looked at their plates. “You have done all the talking. Eat up.”

  When Sam reached the ship, he put his things away and sought out Desmon, but the spy had sought refuge in the rigging. Sam was too tired to join him and decided to talk to Banna about pollen.

  Emmy sprawled out on Banna’s bed. Banna looked like she had been napping with her head on the desk. Emmy raised her head when Banna told Sam to enter, but then she put her head back down.

  “I don’t think she liked traveling for four days on a wagon and then on top of a carriage,” Banna said. “Now, what are you here for, to talk about Pamon Tandar, Desmon Sandal, or green pollen?”

  “Green pollen,” Sam said. “How could he make green pollen from yellow pollen? Is such a thing possible?”

  Banna pursed her lips. “Not in my experience, but then my wards are more sophisticated than Bonkle’s. Everyone has talents, including you, young man. As far as the green pollen, I will have to examine it closely and compare it to the sheep’s pollen the magician had. I’ll let you know.” She looked at Emmy drooling on her blanket.

  “Why don’t you walk her around and let her sleep in your room for a while. I want to finish my nap.”

  Sam did as she suggested. Desmon was still working in the rigging, making repairs to sails and lines along with other sailors. He waved to Sam, who waved back. After Emmy tried to lie down on the deck, he took her back to his room.

  Sam went through his bag and spotted the packet of papers that he had taken from Harlik Bonkle’s bedroom. He had forgotten all about them, not wanting to start examining them on the road.

  He cursed as he read the first paper. He still had neglected to learn Vaarekian cursive. Emmy was snoring on his bed, so Sam reluctantly let the dog sleep while he interrupted Banna’s rest.

  After knocking on the door and apologizing for bothering her, Banna opened the door, wearing a mask. “Get in.” She frowned, not pleased by Sam’s arrival.

  “Deciding to walk the streets of Port Hassin with a different identity?”

  “I am, and what of it? If another spy is to be snooping around the port, I’d rather not expose myself.”

  “If Desmon doesn’t dare talk about him, I don’t blame you,” Sam said. “I bothered you because of these.” Sam waved the packet of documents.

  “What are those?”

  “Bonkle’s papers. I wanted to examine them first, but I still lack skills in Vaarekian cursive. It appears that is what I’ll want some help on during our last leg to Tolloy.”

  Banna grunted and snatched the packet from Sam’s hand. “Let’s take a look at these together.” She ripped her mask off. Sam had never seen her do such a thing. “What are you staring at?”

  Sam had to collect his thoughts. “I’ve never seen a good mask removed. Do they always come off so easily?” His thoughts turned to a few mask removals he had seen a year ago in the mountains of Toraltia.

  She shook her head. “For many, a pollen patch comes off like gooey dough. I use my magic to make it pop off.” She picked up the packet and dumped the contents on her little table.

  The first document made her wince. “They knew I was arriving in Wollia on The Twisted Wind. Bonkle was about ready to travel to Port Hassin with his four guards and assassinate me.”

  “How did he find out?”

  Banna showed him the document. Bonkle had pasted a small scrap of paper with tiny writing to one of his larger documents.

  “Birds.”

  She nodded. “They are much, much faster than a ship moving from port to port. My plans will have to change,” she said. She opened the document that Sam had first examined. “Bonkle definitely told us the truth. These are his orders.” Banna held the document out for Sam, but he rejected her offer. At this point, it was just a sheet with scribbles on it.

  Sam sat as she read through them all.

  Banna sat back. “Not as revealing as I had hoped. Nothing mentions green pollen,” she said. “That is a disappointment. However, we do have a few different styles of cursive here to demonstrate. When the ship gets underway, our pollen studies will be deferred while I do some experimentation, but you can commence learning cursive, which you will need if you hope to exist for any length of time in Tolloy.

  ~

  A sailor knocked on Sam’s door. “A message, sir.”

  Sam wasn’t any kind of a ‘sir,’ but he opened the door and took the message.

  Constable Sam Smith,

  Please come to the Port Hassin Constabulary as soon as you read this message. I would like you to tell me about your experience with the Mandrim.

  Respectfully,

  Pamon Tandar

  3rd Vizier to His Mightiness, Potentate Millah

  Sam didn’t see how he could refuse the offer. He hid the unreadable Harlik Bonkle documents in his room before he put on his sword and wand. Sam clutched the invitation in his hand and found Jordi, telling him he would be visiting the constabulary. He showed him the message.

  “A vizier? Those are the potentate’s closest advisors. I don’t know what the number means. Desmon might.” They looked around the ship but didn’t see the sailor. Sam wondered if Desmon had received a summons similar to his.

  Sam walked by himself to the constabulary. It was his first time alone in Port Hassin, and he felt isolated with everyone speaking Wollian. He stepped into the constabulary and was hustled to Commander Ilsur’s office. As he walked through the door, Sam looked at the back of a man wearing purp
le and gold silks. Intricate patterns were woven into the fabric, and the same colors were woven like ribbons into the man’s white turban.

  The man turned. Sam had seen the same kind of expression on Minister Bolt’s face, the look of a predator with a lot of power.

  “Sam Smith?” the man said after he stood along with Commander Ilsur.

  Since Sam was the only one in the room dressed as a Toraltian, he wondered why the vizier asked.

  “I am,” Sam said in Vaarekian.

  The man smiled. It seemed genuine, but Sam had thought Issak Bolt was a friend when he first met the Toraltian Justice Minister.

  “Sit. This is not a formal debriefing, but a conversation regarding your adventures, especially what happened when you were caught by the Mandrim.” Tandar’s Vaarekian was excellent.

  He told the vizier the truth, but minimized Banna’s talents, like he usually did.

  “I spent some time in Tolloy,” the Vizier said, “before I was exalted to my current position. I have actually spoken to her father, Professor Plunk of the University of Tolloy. He is a distinguished man with unusual viewpoints.”

  Sam nodded. “I hope to meet him when I reach Tolloy. I have read one of his published papers. My Vaarekian tutor in Baskin gave it to me to read.”

  “Heavy reading, I would imagine. You speak Vaarekian very well for a non-native speaker. She did a good job.”

  Sam smiled. “Your Vaarekian is very good, as well,” Sam said. He guessed it wouldn’t be out of line to throw a compliment back at the vizier.

  “A few years in a foreign city will do that to you,” he said with the hint of a chuckle.

  If the man were a spy, like Sam was at the Piper Club in Baskin, he would have had to learn flawless Vaarekian to survive.

  “Tell me about the sultan. What was his palace like? What kind of clothes did he wear?”

  “Palace? It looked like a business building, like this constabulary does. The audience room, I would hardly call it a throne room, was draped with silk, and there were a few gold foil embellishments,” Sam said. “The throne was merely an over-sized chair, but the rugs on the floor were thick. The sultan wore silk clothes more like yours than any nomad in his felt-like pollen robes. That is it.”

  Tandar looked a little disappointed. “What about the village?”

  “A few multistoried buildings were clustered around a village square. The Vaarekian lived on the top floor of one. The roads were packed dirt. The cottages were covered in plaster with thatched roofs. You would expect that being in the center of grasslands. Tents surrounded the village on all four sides.”

  “You know where it is?”

  “I do,” Sam said. “And I suspect you know, too.” Sam looked at Commander Ilsur. “The commander has a better sense of direction than I am likely to. He was there. Desmon Sandal was with me, too.”

  Tandar looked at Ilsur and nodded. “We like to verify our information.”

  Dickey Nail would have done the same.

  “I have a proposition for you, Sam Smith,” Tandar said. “I have a project my people are working on in Port Hassin that I would like you to participate in, you and Miss Plunk, actually. We think there is another Vaarekian operation in Wollia. We think Wollians are being trained in the use of wards.”

  “I don’t know what I can do to help,” Sam said. “I’m not even sixteen.”

  Tandar smiled. “I had to extract the information from my young brother-in-law, but he thinks Banna Plunk and you are an extraordinary team.”

  Sam coughed. “Team? With Banna?” Sam shook his head. “We aren’t a team, but we have worked together a couple of times.” He had never thought Banna and he was a team before. She was Banna Plunk, a master criminal, after all, but they did have a truce that still seemed to be holding up. “You will have to ask her, but I don’t know if she is willing.”

  “Together, Desmon thinks you can deal with pollen better than anyone in Wollia. He claims the pair of you are superior to anyone in Wollia,” Tandar said.

  Sam looked at Commander Ilsur who nodded in agreement. “I’ve seen you two in action,” the commander said. “I agree with Sandal.”

  Sam winced inside. “Very well. What do we get from it? Commander Ilsur has already given us protection from the factions.”

  “I can do better than that and give you both the Potentate’s protection. That means we will ignore the arrest warrant sitting on Commander Ilsur’s desk for Miss Plunk for the time you are with us in Port Hassin.”

  “Doesn’t being on the ship give her some kind of immunity?”

  Tandar gave Sam a smile that reminded him of Dickey Nail’s smirk. “A rumor that isn’t true.”

  “Can I take her something in writing?” Sam asked.

  “I anticipated your request,” Commander Ilsur said. He handed over a document bound between two pollen slabs.

  Sam took it and quickly shoved it in his pocket without reading.

  “You both will also receive a reward at my discretion upon the successful completion of our operation.”

  Sam nodded. He guessed he could always use more money, if that was what the reward was.

  “I will take this to her,” Sam said.

  “Return tomorrow morning two hours after dawn.”

  He stood and bowed to the two men, wondering what he had gotten himself into again. At least they wouldn’t be riding on the bumpy tracks the Wollians called roads.

  Chapter Twenty

  ~

  B anna made a disagreeable face. “My disguise is of no use,” she said. “I was under the impression we were untouchable on the ship, but even that isn’t the case.”

  Sam could hear the despair in her voice. “I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”

  She smiled with one corner of her mouth. “So you are my protector now? What a reversal of fortune for you, Sam Smith.”

  “I need to learn Vaarekian cursive,” Sam said, thinking of an excuse.

  “Of course you do,” Banna said. She sighed. “No choice, teammate,” she said with irony plain in her voice. She looked at the pardon signed by the Potentate Millah, himself. “It looks like we work together again.”

  ~

  Vizier Tandar had briefly met with them in Commander Ilsur’s office and told them that they would be under the direction of Mito Nakara. Their supervisor would brief them in an office in a basement of the constabulary.

  Banna and Sam walked into the small windowless office brightly lit by lamps. Mito Nakara stared at Sam’s sword. “You wear a Lashak blade” were the first words out of the man’s mouth.

  Sam didn’t know if it was a sneer or an exclamation. Nakara must have been a Lashakan, since he looked different from the Wollians and the nomads. He was tall with long, straight, dark hair and a rounded face, rather than the thinner faces of the other Wollians.

  “You are a Lashakan?” Sam asked.

  “I am. Why are you still standing? A Lashak blade kills non-Lashakans.”

  “Perhaps it is because I wrapped the grip with leather,” Sam said.

  Nakara pursed his lips. “Who told you our secret?”

  “No one. I didn’t want to wear down the gold wires, so I wrapped it in leather before I knew of the legend of the Lashak swords. It wasn’t hard to figure out after I didn’t succumb to the power of the weapon.”

  “Luck,” Nakara sneered.

  “Sometimes it is luck that keeps us alive,” Banna said.

  “True. Philosopher spies, eh?” Nakara said mockingly.

  Sam wasn’t so sure he would be able to work with this man, but he had Banna to protect, so he didn’t respond.

  Nakara snorted. “Well, let us get down to business. There are pollen users among the gang we are monitoring in Port Hassin—”

  “Isn’t everyone a pollen user?” Banna said.

  Sam hadn’t heard anyone ever refer to pollen makers as users before. It seemed Nakara had some kind of prejudice against pollen.

  “They use it to evade our at
tempts to spy on them,” he said.

  “Go on,” Banna said.

  Her demeanor seemed to intimidate Nakara a bit.

  “I want you to come along on our next raid. Our targets are warded. I am told that they are different wards than were used in the Rakwall Armory theft. I have been working on this spy ring for nearly a year, but my Vaarekian opponents are generally one step ahead of me.”

  Which, to Sam, indicated a person was feeding intelligence to Nakara’s counterpart in the other spy ring. He had to conclude it was another Vaarekian unit preparing for the inevitable attack on Wollia. He wouldn’t say anything until he knew more about the Lashakan’s operation.

  Nakara stared at Sam’s sword again. “Can I look at your weapon?”

  “Sure,” Sam said, unbuckling the sheath and handing the blade to Nakara.

  “This would be an heirloom in the clans if it hadn’t passed through Wollian hands. It makes the sword tainted.”

  “Is the poison on the grip applied before battle?” Sam asked.

  Nakara looked up from his close inspection. “What?”

  “You heard him,” Banna said. “The windings are poisoned. My guess is you ingest an antidote before using the sword, or you always wear gloves. Am I right?”

  Nakara put the sword on his lap and waved his hands as if to push away their comments. “No. Nothing like that happens. It is just a legend.”

  Sam wasn’t convinced, but it didn’t matter now that he knew he would have to keep the grip wrapped. Perhaps he would remove the tainted wire altogether once underway on The Twisted Wind, so he dropped the matter after giving Banna a dirty look.

  “This is a very good implementation of our master pattern. The blue steel is perfect, flexible, and yet able to hold a good edge. A clan chief would likely have owned this. The sword is older than it looks,” Nakara said. “Enough of this.” He pushed the weapon back toward Sam. “We are preparing for a raid tonight. I expect both of you to accompany us.”

  “Spies do the raiding?” Sam asked.