by P. A. Wilson
“Thank you,” the same scree said uncharacteristically politely and then marched away. It was almost as disturbing as being threatened.
Maynard turned away from them to continue his search. Neither Springheart nor Willowvine were in sight. Heart racing in unexpected panic, he scanned the wharf. They must have entered a ship.
The only thing he could do was keep moving toward the end of the line of ships. No matter if they were buying passage, the ships had less than an hour before the tide turned and those leaving on this tide were busy filling their cargo holds. Last minute passengers would only be considered right before sailing.
Dodging sailors, and merchants, and sightseers, he kept scanning the people ahead of him, not worried about being seen himself because he could give a story to cover his presence. As Maynard neared the end of the wharf, the noise became louder with sailors calling orders and directions in preparation for getting underway, the noise and the crowds making it difficult to focus on his targets.
Maynard came to a stop, leaning against a bollard. This running around was not productive. There was enough activity to allow him to stay hidden and observe. It took only a few seconds for him to see them. Walking down the gangway of a ship closer to town. The fools didn’t know the procedure for sailing. On this tide the ships docked at the far end of the line would be leaving. The ones closer to town would go on the next tide.
They were talking and not paying attention to the people around them except the minimum required to avoid being knocked over. He couldn’t let them leave. This might be his only chance. The crowds would give him cover and delay their pursuit.
Maynard launched himself off the bollard and ran the distance to the pair of elves. No one was bothered by the sight of another person running along the busy line of ships. He kept his eyes on the sack clutched at Springheart’s side. Reaching to push the elf over with one hand and grab the sack with the other, Maynard took the prize and kept running.
There were a few shouts, but little sound of pursuit as he veered at the end of the wharf and headed toward the far road. He knew of an empty building that he could use as shelter. A place where he could confirm that he had the stone. Somewhere he could decide on his next steps. He faltered for as he realized that he had no idea where the stone needed to go other than off island.
He heard footsteps coming and dodged into an alley, still heading for the hiding place. Off island! It dawned on him that he knew it was an elven artifact. Of course, he could deliver it to the elves. They could afford a generous reward. And he still had the money that Willowvine gave him. It would cover passage and a few days’ short supplies.
The footsteps followed him down the alley. He tried not to look back, knowing it might mean the difference between escape and capture. The footfalls were too heavy for it to be the elves. Them he wouldn’t hear coming. As he turned the next corner, he chanced a look. His pursuer was a human, one who was unused to running because he was red faced and gasping, and, more important, losing ground.
Chapter 30
“He went here,” Willowvine said as she followed the gasping human around the corner into the alley. Following someone who was following their target was not the best way to get the stone back. If the human lost Maynard, they were lost.
In the middle of the alley, her fears came true. The human was struggling for breath, he was at a complete stop, and Maynard was nowhere in sight. Springheart grabbed her arm and stopped her from running past.
“We need information,” he said when she struggled to free herself. “It’s Maynard. There are few places for him to hide.”
The fat human would not be ready to speak soon enough. “If we wait…” she would lose her leverage and the elves would lose their future.
The man shook his head and pointed to the end of the alley, twisting his wrist to show that Maynard had run to the right. She didn’t stop to wonder why the man was helping. She raced to the corner, feeling Springheart match her pace. They turned onto the street, weaving to avoid collision with a clerk carrying a stack of papers.
Springheart swerved to the other side of the man. “In there, the broken wall.” He pointed her toward the building site she’d noticed while waiting for Springheart to return from hiding the stone only this morning.
“See you in there,” she said, sprinting to jump the wall. Maynard had trapped himself if he’d entered the building. When they found him and she had her hands on him she’d make Maynard explain, then hurt him badly. Maybe she wouldn’t wait for the explanation.
She glanced at Springheart before entering through the gaping hole in the front door. He was circling the small yard. It fronted the house and wrapped around the sides for a few feet. Between them they would find the thief and get their stone back.
Inside there was enough light to see that the room was empty. The builders had stripped the entire floor of contents, leaving only one wall between the front room and what was likely the kitchen. A ladder reached to the second floor, replacing the demolished staircase. Willowvine hurried to check the back room, careful to look for attack before crossing the threshold. Nothing.
Her confidence waning as the seconds passed without finding Maynard, she ran up the ladder and checked each of the four rooms with no success. A glance through the back window showed her a narrow lane that butted up against the tall stone wall of the neighboring building. Swearing, Willowvine stood on the sill grasping the edge of the frame to lean out and scan the length of the lane.
It ended in another tall wall two houses farther up. The other end opened into a cross street at the docks. She hopped into the room and rushed outside where Springheart waited for her.
“I think he’s gone back to the docks,” she said. “Do you think there’s any chance he is taking it to Crous?”
Springheart started running for the street. “I’d say no, but I didn’t think there was a way for him to know about the stone.”
Their speed was restrained by the traffic on the street and Willowvine felt panic start to take over her determination. Maynard could be on his way to anywhere. “He wouldn’t steal it if he was going to place it back in the right location. Why bother?”
They were at the docks before Springheart answered. “Money, power, something important to him.”
Ships were preparing to sail.
“Money means he’ll ransom it.”
“Like you were planning?” Springheart asked sidestepping a line of men waiting for their wares to be loaded on a large ship.
“No, but if he knows it’s elven, would he go to the elves?”
Springheart came to a stop. “You’re right. How did Maynard know so much?” Willowvine saw the color drain from Springheart’s face. “You remember that aura you sensed? When we were meeting with Devissial in the guild hall?”
Willowvine did, and she remembered how it had felt, muddy. “He knows what the stone is.”
* * *
Springheart ran toward the docks. They didn’t have time to think through the repercussions of their knowledge. Two ships ahead of where they stood, Springheart saw Maynard hand a heavy bag to the ship’s captain before running up the gangway. Two sailors ran down and started undoing the ropes holding the ship to its berth. In the time it took Springheart to take a few steps forward, the captain was up the gangway, the sailors behind him drawing the ropes onto the ship. In seconds the ship had drifted far enough from the dock to be unreachable. As it cleared the berth, Springheart could see that all the ships anchored ahead of it were gone, the wharf empty to its end. Spinning on his heel he saw that the boats behind were quiet now. Maynard had taken the last boat for this tide.
“We can find out where it’s headed,” Willowvine said. “He doesn’t know what we are supposed to be doing with it. We only read the message, and destroyed it.”
Springheart couldn’t take heart from what she said. If Maynard had found a way to listen in before, he could have learned the contents of the message. She was right about finding the des
tination. One of these ships might be persuaded to try a late sailing. With enough incentive, they could be on Maynard’s trail before he was able to slip away. “Let’s see if we can find some information from this captain.” He gestured toward the closest ship.
They convinced the sailor at the top of the gangway that they were not a danger to the cargo by slipping him a few coins from their dwindling advance. While Willowvine kept her eyes turned to the horizon, Springheart questioned the sailor.
“I missed meeting a friend before sailing,” he said. “Do you know where the last ship was bound?”
The sailor shifted position slightly as the ship rocked. “You don’t know where you friend was going?”
Well, Springheart thought, I’d probably have been suspicious of easy information. “Perhaps friend isn’t the right word.” He slipped another coin into his hand and showed it to the sailor. “Can I rely on your discretion?”
Licking his lips, the sailor nodded.
“The boy and I were hired to retrieve the man. He stole a valuable artifact from our client, and left his daughter dishonored.”
The sailor snorted. “Well, I guess if you can’t get the honor back, a treasure might be worth it. The ship is called The Gull’s Wing. Does a circuit between The City and here. Be back in three days.”
Springheart saw Willowvine switch her attention away from the horizon to the sailor. She knew better than to speak. One word would destroy the illusion that she was a human boy. She glanced at the opening in the deck as if to say they should buy passage.
“Where are you bound?”
The sailor made an adjustment to the rope holding the ship to the wharf as the retreating tide brought them lower. “The City, a run to Crous, then back. You want passage on The Land Ho you need to see the captain.”
If there were a pattern to the sailings, this ship would be the first out.
“Can I see him now?”
“He’s on shore. Won’t be back for couple hours.” The man’s gaze flicked to the coin, a signal that he felt that he’d given value and wanted payment.
“When do you sail?” Springheart didn’t want to leave until he had enough information to plan how to catch Maynard Slack, and what to do about informing the client and the guild.
The sailor held out his hand, not willing to speak until he had his reward. Placing the coin on his palm, Springheart repeated the question.
Looking over his shoulder as if expecting punishment for sharing secrets, the man said, “Four hours until the first safe sailing.”
He thanked the sailor and shepherded Willowvine onto shore. They had time. He wished they didn’t, but that didn’t mean they would waste it.
Chapter 31
“What do you mean she can’t be found?” Vitenkar roared. “Are you suggesting she sprouted wings and flew away? She’s an elf, not a fay.”
Ballian seemed content to let Dintral take the full force of Vitenkar’s wrath. He had to admit it felt good to shout at a man who flinched from his ire rather than one who would be unmoved.
“We had one tip that she’d headed for the hills. We have two warriors headed in that direction.” Dintral responded.
Vitenkar doubted the tip was true. “She had help. Go to the town guard station and find out who got her released.” He dismissed Dintral. When they were alone, he turned to Ballian. “You have an opinion?”
“Not so much an opinion as a feeling, sir. Going to the hills is not an escape. Eventually she would be found. I feel as though we’ve seen her, but not noticed her.”
Why can’t anyone speak plainly?
“Magic?”
Ballian firmed his lips as though sealing them against a dangerous response. When he finally spoke, it was in a tone that was so patronizing that Vitenkar had to battle to control his urge to smash the man’s face.
“A disguise. It wouldn’t take much to make her appear to be a goblin, a head covering and padding, a little dirt to darken her skin.”
Vitenkar laughed. “She’d stand out more as a goblin on this island than as an elf. Don’t be stupid man.”
Stifling a sigh that made Vitenkar want to stab him in the gut, Ballian said, “True, but not if she were made up to pass as a human child.”
His instinct was to dismiss the idea, but Vitenkar realized that his instincts hadn’t served him well in this. A moment’s thought and he realized that it would be a perfect disguise. Not only would it fool anyone looking for an elf female, but there were too many human children on the island to check them all. Ballian had a point. “What do you think happened?”
The lieutenant shrugged. “If she were a scree, I’d say she got off island. I don’t know what an elf will do to avoid notice.”
The man’s help was limited. Vitenkar told him to wait until they learned who was helping the girl and sent him back to the barracks.
If there were a spell that could help predict the actions of another, it would be in the book he kept locked behind the bottles of brandy and wine. He had most of the variety of chalks scree needed to release their magic. It was mostly for attack or slaying others, but it was possible there was something more subtle — and there was nothing else to do.
Placing the book on the table he started flipping pages. About three quarters of the way through he found a chalk and chant combination that would reveal where a particular thing or person was located. It would help. If she wasn’t on a trail in the hills, perhaps they would recognize her surroundings and that would be an advantage.
Looking down the list of ingredients he saw that his stocks held all but one type of chalk; Visian chalk, deep blue and very rare, and the only one he needed for the spell. Rage at another disappointment took control. He kicked savagely at the table upending it. The book landed on the floor, on top of the broken wine bottle and pool of red wine.
Vitenkar trembled with rage that he couldn’t burn out. A roaring in his ears blocked out sound as he struggled to reign in his fury. Minutes, or hours, passed while he was fighting the urge to storm into the barracks and tear off the head of the first warrior he found.
Someone banging on his door finally created a path for his sanity to follow.
“Sir, we have information.” Dintral’s voice came through the door.
Relief that it had not been hours, Vitenkar turned the lock. “Report.”
“The town guards were approached by someone powerful, they would not tell me who, or whether that person was an elf or a human.” Dintral paused. A flash of concern crossed his features. “The human matched the description of the man who told us she’d left for the hills. I cannot be sure if it was the same person or not.”
The rage he’d barely gotten under control fled as though someone had doused him in an icy lake. “Where was this?”
“At the town guard house, sir,” Dintral said uncertainly. “Where you sent me.”
Vitenkar saw Ballian suppress a smile. Was the man amused at his counterpart’s stupidity? “I meant where were you when the human lied?”
“Near the docks,” Dintral confirmed. “He was headed to the wharf.”
Vitenkar swore, and then took a bag of coins from a drawer. “Find out if they left and where they are going. If they haven’t sailed, bribe every captain to deny them passage.”
Ballian took the coin and hefted it. “The tide has turned. If no one saw them board one of the ships that sailed, we have four hours, plenty of time to find them if they are here. Not too much time lost if we need to catch up.”
Chapter 32
“We need to get on that ship,” Willowvine said. Her frustration at the delays had her wound so tight she jumped at every sound. Even she knew enough caution to realize that this much tension would guarantee mistakes. “Waiting here isn’t going to make that happen. What if we miss the captain? What if someone else gets the last passage?”
Springheart pulled her away from the window. After leaving the ship, they’d gone back to their room and gathered their belongings, all their coin,
and two short swords. Then they had hidden in the building site, keeping watch for the scree.
Willowvine could see that he was as much on edge as she was.
“It has only been an hour. We have time. We’ll leave soon,” he said.
Soon wasn’t good enough. “We could wait by the ship. We can’t even see it from here.”
If they missed this tide, Maynard would be too far ahead of them to catch. Even if they found his trail as soon as they docked in The City, he’d have a day on them, not just four hours.
“As soon as it gets dark we’ll go and find a better place to hide. The scree might still be looking for you.” Springheart pulled a chunk of travel bread from his package. “Eat. We might not feel like it on board.”
He was reminding her of how hard the passage to the island had been on her. It had been a day of hanging her head over the side of the ship, wanting to die. The memory didn’t help her get hold of her emotions. She took the food and chewed it hoping that it would calm her. “Will we go together?”
He chewed his own hunk of bread, considering the question. “Your disguise will work better at night. Maybe we’ll have to split up later, but we can stick together at first. If we get passage right away, we might be able to hide aboard until it sails.”
She yearned to be able to wash the muck off her face. As soon as their ship was far enough away from Lands Home she would do just that. “I don’t like just waiting.” The admission surprised her, until this moment she’d done what he’d asked. Every job until now had been a new lesson to learn, or an opportunity to hone skills she’d gained. Now that she thought about it, this whole job had been more of a partnership than any other. Springheart trusted her.
He shifted to watch the street from his place below the second-floor window. They were up there because it had the back exit. If someone came, they could be out of the window and half way to the docks before the intruder reached the top of the ladder.