The Swordsman's Oath toe-2

by Juliet E. McKenna

  Temar gaped at her. “You’re not serious?”

  “As plague spots, Esquire!” snapped Avila, wiping her hands heedlessly on her plain brown gown. “If it weren’t for Guinalle, he wouldn’t see out the year. So she has to spend her time and strength on him as well as on all the other duties laid on her.”

  “What am I supposed to do about it?” Temar demanded, more to defend himself than expecting any answer.

  Avila gave him one nevertheless. “Stop finding every excuse to leave the port to take your sulks about Guinalle off with you,” she glared at him. “You’re Den Fellaemion’s obvious successor, boy! Stay and learn from him, take over some of the real work of the colony, stop gallivanting off up river and inland whenever someone offers you the chance. If Den Fellaemion has less to do, he will need to demand less of Guinalle, and she might have a chance to stop spending from the bottom of her purse all the time. Get yourself in hand, D’Alsennin! I’ve been watching how you behave toward Guinalle. Drianon save me, you’re not the only boy who ever got turned down. Guinalle’s not the first woman to see more important paths lying before her than just being a wife and mother!”

  Pent-up grievance escaped Temar before he could restrain his tongue. “And I have got you to thank that she’s taken them, haven’t I? Guinalle kept mentioning your name when I was trying to find out what turned her against me. Just because you chose not to wed, I don’t see you have the right to meddle in other people’s happiness.”

  Avila regarded him steadily, but her blue eyes were bright with a suspicion of tears. “I would have wed, D’Alsennin, had my betrothed not died of that same Crusted Pox that took so many of your House to the Otherworld. My father died too and my mother was left an invalid; it fell to me to nurse her for the next four years, youngest and unlooked for daughter as I was. By then, with so many dead, any chance I had to marry had passed me by. But you’re right, I did advise Guinalle to think very carefully before hampering herself with a husband, children and all the expectations of society. It’s not as if there is any middle way, not now, not here. Guinalle has had education and opportunities I could only have ever dreamed of, and I would hate to see her cast them aside for a self-centered boy who has so much growing up left to do!”

  Guinalle stirred in the bunk, a vague hand reaching for her forehead. Temar looked at her for a long moment, then, not trusting himself to speak, turned on his heel and slammed out of the cabin.

  A trading islet in the domain of Sazac Joa,

  Aldabreshin Archipelago,

  20th of For-Summer

  I stepped out of the skiff on to the sand, hauling my baggage out without any hand raised to help me. “My thanks,” I said curtly, but no one responded and I walked away without a backward glance. It was hard to feel angry with the Aldabreshi though, despite their lack of courtesy. However they sent their messages with their flags and beacons, word of Kaeska’s fate had spread through the Archipelago like fire through dry brush and Shek Kul’s token, while securing me passage on whatever vessel I wanted, also clearly identified me as the mainlander who’d started the whole business. It was no real surprise that wherever I went I found myself about as welcome as someone who’s lost their nose and half their fingers to creeping scab. I walked slowly along the beach, looking at the signal pennants flying at each masthead, trying find the yellow and crimson pattern the last galley-master had grudgingly shown me, identifying the next domain I needed to cross on this painfully slow progress up the Archipelago. I sighed. The sun was sinking behind a rocky island to the west and I didn’t fancy another night sleeping fitfully in a hollow of sand, hoping no one would rob or knife me before I woke.

  “You’re a long way from home, Tormalin man.” This unexpected greeting was sufficiently friendly that I didn’t reach instantly for my sword. In any case, given my recent experiences, I was starting to feel rather wary of using that blade for anything short of outright assault by a full detachment of Elietimm. I turned to see a short, coppery-skinned man in a shabby tunic grinning at me. He was beardless and bald as an egg, pate gleaming in the afternoon sun, but with the right clothes and some hair he could have stepped off any dock anywhere along the coast of the Gulf of Lescar. There was a distinctly Lescari touch to his mongrel Tormalin as well.

  “I could say the same of you, couldn’t I?” I watched his dark eyes to judge the sincerity of his reply.

  “Perhaps but I don’t really have a home these days, not beyond my ship, anyway. That’s her, the Amigal!” He waved a proud arm at one of the smaller vessels anchored in the narrow strait. Despite the Aldabreshin rigging and unfamiliar arrangement of mast and sail, it looked about the same size as the boats that ply the rivers and coasts on the Gulf coast of Tormalin, carrying a good weight of cargo but only needing a couple of men to manage it. That was interesting in itself, given the preponderance of massive galleys all around us, but more intriguing still was the array of white-bordered pennants strung down a long line from the top of the mast. This little ship and its unknown master had permission to trade their way through a double handful of domains.

  I looked down impassively at the man, whose broad smile did not falter, and folded my arms. “What do you want with me?” I demanded with just enough challenge to deter casual conversation.

  “I’d have thought you’d be looking to do some business with me,” he replied with an engaging grin. “I know who you are, Tormalin man. You’re the slave to young Laio Shek, that helped her put that bitch Kaeska out to sea in ashes.” He wiped a hand over his mouth in an unconscious gesture I’d seen all too often lately, as people around me realized who I was. “I’d say you’d pay handsomely for a quick passage home, instead of spending the next season hopping from galley to galley and hoping no one tips you overboard, just in case you’re really tainted with magic.”

  I wondered how he made a living, if this was his idea of negotiation. Sadly, he was essentially correct. “Where could you take me?” I demanded, no smile to answer his as yet.

  “Close enough to the mainland for you to get a passage with a Caladhrian port, to Attar or Claithe, choose how you will.”

  I considered this. The most northerly Aldabreshi Warlord had pushed the Caladhrians out of the coastal islands nearly a generation previously and, from all I’d heard, reasonably peaceful trade had resumed a handful or so years ago. Attar or Claithe were entirely the wrong end of the Gulf of Lescar, as far as I was concerned, but did I really want to try and cross the width of the Archipelago in this haphazard fashion and then hunt around for one of the few ships that risked the perilous, if profitable crossing to Zyoutessela, beating against the winds and currents that coiled around the Cape? If I reached Caladhria it would be a long way home, especially now the fighting season in Lescar would be in full bloody flow. Still, I would at least be able to send a letter to Messire via the Despatch and there was always the chance of a direct passage across the Gulf from Relshaz to Toremal. I remembered the haul of gems I had found at the bottom of my kit bag, a parting gift from Laio. I could buy my own cursed galley if only I wanted to, if I could only get back to somewhere civilized.

  I looked at the little man and wondered what his idea of me paying handsomely might be. “What’s your name?” I asked, relaxing my stance a little.

  “Dev,” he held out his hand palm up, an unmistakably Lescari gesture, that being a country where proving you’ve not got a dagger up your sleeve is reckoned a courtesy.

  I shook his hand. “Glad to meet you, Dev. I’m Ryshad.” I looked around the beach, thronged with people and goods as the little skiffs ferried cargo and passengers to and from the waiting galleys. The scent of cooking came from little fires and braziers set up at intervals along the tree line and my stomach rumbled.

  “I’m also hungry, that bastard of a captain insisted on putting me ashore before the crew ate.” That had happened to me all too often on this uncomfortable trip, and, with no one in this benighted society understanding the notion of simply paying for a service,
I had had no way of purchasing a meal, no matter how much food was being prepared around me, the wealth in my bag a taunting irrelevance.

  “Come on then, you can eat with me.” Dev led the way to a shelter woven of tree fronds where a fat woman was deftly pouring batter on a sizzling skillet, folding the resulting pancakes around a spoonful of whatever mixture was requested from a row of pots bubbling on the rim of her broad brazier.

  “Which is least spiced?” I asked Dev cautiously, watching as he asked for a helping of meat laced with what I now knew to be scorching red pods. Wherever he’d come from, he’d obviously been in and around the Archipelago long enough to have his tongue tanned like old leather.

  “The fish, I’d say.” Dev laughed, not unkindly. He told the woman the name of his ship and she nodded with satisfaction as she noted the pennants at the masthead.

  “So what’s an amigal?” I asked, biting cautiously into my meal and finding it reasonably edible to my relief, though I still couldn’t understand why the Aldabreshi couldn’t just eat fish plain.

  “It’s a bird of the islands,” replied Dev, mouth full as he ate in rapid bites. “Spends half the year heading south and the rest of the time coming back again, daft creature.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “Pretty much, though I don’t go much beyond the domain of Neku Riss.” Dev swallowed his last mouthful and signalled to the woman for another pancake. “So, how did you end up solving Shek Kul’s oldest problem for him then?”

  That raised heads all around us, people recognizing the name and enough having sufficient Tormalin to get the gist of Dev’s enquiry. Leaves on the ground rustled as those closest edged away, a reaction I was also well used to by now. I started to give him a concise account of events, thinking it would be no bad thing to spread as much suspicion and fear of the Elietimm throughout the Archipelago as I could. As I mentioned Kaeska for the first time, Dev laid a hand on my wrist.

  “Wipe the taint from your lips when you mention that name,” he warned me in an undertone, “and never call her Kaeska Shek; she has no link to any domain now.”

  I nodded and complied, wondering angrily how much additional offense and suspicion had gathered around me on my journey so far simply because I hadn’t known any of this. That made up my mind for me; whatever Dev wanted by way of payment, if I had it, it was his. I wanted to be free of these unholy islands and their merciless people as soon as I could.

  “So how did you end up in a Relshazri slave auction any-way?” inquired Dev, eyes keen as I finished my tale.

  “I was in Relshaz on business for my patron,” I replied with a shrug of bemusement. “I was set upon, street robbers I suppose they must have been. One of them managed to fell me from behind and I woke up in the lock-up, witnesses all swearing to Saedrin that I’d robbed some poxed merchant I’d never even seen. The greedy bastards can’t have been satisfied with what I had in my purse and thought they’d see what my hide would fetch.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought a sworn man would get caught like that,” Dev shook his head with a chuckle.

  “You’re not the only one.” I had no difficulty feigning disgust with myself. “The patron might be prepared to overlook it but the rest of the barracks will be reminding me about it till I’m old and gray.”

  “Come on.” Dev got to his feet and we headed for a little boat drawn up on the shore, a lad leaning on its single oar, rammed into the sand to hold it fast. Dev turned to me and shoved his hands through the frayed length of rope that was serving him for a belt.

  “What are you offering for your passage then, Tormalin man?” he asked, head cocked to one side.

  “What are you asking?” I countered.

  “What about that little bauble?” His eyes fixed greedily on the gold and emerald token that Shek Kul had given me, prominently displayed on my chest as I had soon discovered was only prudent if I wanted to keep my hide intact.

  I scowled and hissed sharply through my teeth. “This is my only safeguard as long as I’m in the islands,” I protested. “My life’s not worth a spent candle without it.”

  “You’ll be safe enough with me,” insisted Dev, his eyes not wavering from the gleaming gemstone.

  “How about I give it to you once I’m safely ashore or aboard a Caladhrian ship?” I offered reluctantly after a lengthy pause.

  Dev grimaced as he considered this. “Your word on it?” he demanded eventually.

  “My word on it, Dastennin drown me if I break it,” I confirmed. “And if Dastennin doesn’t work his vengeance on me, my patron is Messire D’Olbriot. You know of him, don’t you? I’m hardly going to risk playing you false and having to answer to him, am I?”

  Dev’s expression cleared. “True enough. Come on then.”

  I was glad that we were both satisfied; Dev that he would get what he assumed was my only possession of value, myself that I had not had to reveal the existence of the random trawl through her jewel cases that Laio had rolled inside an old tunic when she’d been packing my kit-bag for me. We reached Dev’s ship and I followed him over the rail, looking around in vain for any other crew.

  Dev laughed. “It’s just you and me, Tormalin man. My partner got himself knifed in a fight a while back. You’ll be working your passage home; you must know your way around a boat if you’re from Zyoutessela.”

  “Doesn’t that mean you should be paying me?” I protested with a half-smile.

  “The deal’s done now, no going back on it.”

  I let him enjoy his little triumph. “If you say so.”

  “Let’s get a drink.” Dev lifted a hatch in the prow of the ship to reveal a cramped storage space packed with small barrels. Dropping down a ladder, he lifted one up to me and we made our way to an equally confined cabin at the stern of the ship where I rolled my bag inside the hammock Dev indicated. This ship was evidently fitted out to carry the maximum amount of cargo and if I was going to help sail her, it didn’t look as if I was going to have much time to spare.

  Dev dragged a stool out from beneath the folded-down table as he tapped the little cask with a practiced hand. I took the cup he offered and emptied it thirstily, choking as it proved to contain something like dark brandy rather than the feeble Aldabreshin wine I had been expecting.

  “I’ll wager it’s been a good while since you had a real drink,” laughed Dev as I wiped the tears from my eyes.

  “What is this stuff?” I gasped, trying not to cough and taking a more cautious sip.

  “It’s made from honeycane.” Dev poured himself a second drink but I waved his hand away from my cup. There are precious few people I trust enough to get drunk with, and Dev wasn’t even close to making the bottom of the list. Still, it was undeniably pleasant to feel the bite of real liquor again.

  “I thought all the Aldabreshi drank was that horse-piss they call wine.”

  “There’s always a market for what’s forbidden,” chuckled Dev but I can’t say I saw the joke particularly, none too keen to find myself on a boat laden with what could only be called contraband.

  “Aren’t you treading a rather fine line?” I asked.

  “I watch my footing,” he replied airily.

  I took another drink; I’d just have to hope he didn’t make a misstep while I was on board. If he did, well, I still had Shek Kul’s token and I’d be off this little ship at the first sign of trouble to take my chances on my own.

  “Right, you can keep watch. I’m off ashore to do a little trading,” said Dev briskly.

  I followed him up on deck and looked for a comfortable spot in the shelter of the mast as he hailed a ferry-boy.

  “When should I expect you back?” I called as the lad worked his oar to turn his cockleshell boat around.

  Dev looked at the stars beginning to shine in the darkening sky. “Midnight or thereabouts.”

  I waved and settled myself on the deck. I wasn’t about to relax, but my spirits were certainly rising and not only because of the encouragement from t
he liquor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I sat and watched the business of the anchorage all around me, lamps casting long yellow fingers across the dark waters, voices sounding from the various ships, in debate, dispute and as the night drew in, more frequently in song. The stars turned slowly above my head, the moons carried themselves on their stately progress, greater waxing behind lesser, which was scant days off the full. Gradually the galleys fell dark and silent, fires on the shore left to burn down to dim red embers and most of the ferrymen finally hauling their little boats up above the tide line.

  I caught my breath as I heard a low noise beneath my feet. I listened and it came again, a scrape and a knock, not from the hold but from the rear cabin. On any other ship I’d have dismissed it as rats but I’d seen the extreme measures the Aldabreshi took to keep vermin from getting on to their islands and didn’t think Dev would still be trading, liquor or no liquor, if a rat showed so much as a whisker over his rails. The next sound made up my mind for me; rats may be cursed intelligent for scaly-tailed rodents but I’ll wager none have yet worked out how to open a drawer. I slipped my sandals off my feet and moved to the hatch, silent as a hunting cat. Drawing a thin Aldabreshi dagger from my belt, I gripped the rope handle of the trap door, ripping it open and dropping into the cabin in one movement.

  I had been ready for grappling whoever it was in darkness but a feeble candle stub showed me a girl, all skin and bone, eyes like great dark bruises in her pale face, unwashed hair straggling over her narrow shoulders in dark rats’ tails. I gripped her by the throat all the same; the bitch had my bag open at her feet, various of my possessions strewn on the floor. I raised my dagger so she could see it and shook her hard.

  “Dast seize you, what are you at?”

  Her eyes focused on the bright blade with difficulty and followed it, her expression blank, slack-mouthed, the taint of thassin bitter on her breath. I frowned and waved the knife deliberately to and fro. Her muddy, bloodshot eyes rolled as she tried to keep up with the rapid movement. I let her go and wondered just what her addled mind was making of this, what phantasms her imagination was conjuring up in my place, hoping she didn’t suddenly decide I was a two-headed dog and start screaming.