The Larion Senators e-3

by Rob Scott

  Sharr pulled his cloak closed against the evening chill. ‘A lot less than they’ve got, unless they plan to go far to the north, out beyond anything we have on the charts.’

  ‘Why?’ Markus asked. ‘Why did they leave?’

  Gita looked at him. ‘I honestly don’t know, Markus.’

  ‘Shall I give the order, ma’am?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Sharr, take a squad into the city. I want to be absolutely certain there’s no one left, other than the lot at the harbour. Spread out, check everywhere, and be back here ready to report at dawn. If it’s clear, we’ll move at sunrise.’

  Sharr nodded and hurried down the slope as Gita continued, ‘Markus, get word to the officers to stand down until dawn.’

  ‘Very well, ma’am.’ He too rushed off into the night, leaving Gita standing with the sentries, looking down on the fires sparking into life here and there in the darkness below.

  Brexan rolled over, shaking the wine-cobwebs from her head, wondering what aven it was and why she’d awakened Someone was knocking.

  She squeezed open her eyes and yawned, then rasped, ‘Come in.’ She cleared her throat, which was horribly dry and uncomfortable. ‘Come in,’ she said again, more clearly this time.

  ‘The door’s latched, Brexan,’ a muffled voice whispered from the corridor.

  She pushed back the coverlet, pulled a tunic over her head and padded across the floor. She let the door swing open while she used her bedside candle to light several more. Doren Ford emerged from the shadows.

  ‘Captain Ford,’ she said, obviously surprised. ‘Uh, what are you-? Is everything all right?’ She tried to smooth down her night-snarled hair, hoping to tame her curls before he noticed what an uncooperative nightmare they were. She self-consciously shoved as much hair behind her ears as she could.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Ford moved to the foot of her bed. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Uh, no, no, please, have a seat,’ she stammered then, finding nothing useful to do standing up, sat down herself, keeping as much of the bed between them as possible without tumbling off. ‘What can I do for you?’ Her heart was thudding with anticipation; while she found the older man handsome, she certainly wasn’t ready for suggestions like, Strip naked and climb into bed with me!

  ‘I’m concerned about your friends,’ Ford said. ‘And I know I promised safe passage to Averil with no questions asked, but I feel as though-’

  ‘You can ask me,’ she completed his sentence.

  ‘Yes, I feel as though I can ask you.’ He smiled. ‘We don’t know each other very well, but I have the sense that I can trust you – and I am not one who trusts many people, Brexan. I have the feeling that you’ll tell me the truth if I ask.’

  I won’t – I can’t, she thought wildly, hoping nothing showed on her face. Please don’t ask me, please!

  ‘I need to know who they are.’

  ‘They’re friends of mine from the city,’ Brexan began, ‘and they need to get to-’

  ‘Stop that, please,’ Captain Ford cut her off. ‘They may be friends of yours, but I don’t believe any of that story about picking up a cargo three days’ north of here. Do you know what lies three days’ north of here?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Cliffs, lots of them, and deep water.’ He pulled a pipe from his tunic, remembered where he was and put it back. ‘I’ve picked up cargoes from other ships before; everyone has – it’s standard when dealing with the Malakasian navy. So we sail north, tie up to an outlaw ship and load whatever it is your friend Garec doesn’t want to tell me about. And a run to Averil wasn’t what I had in mind; I was hoping for something that would get me back to Southport. But with the merchant fleet reduced to splinters and the docks here filling with unshipped cargoes, I can get to Averil and back and still load up for Southport before the southern Twinmoon. As word of what happened spreads, sailors are going to flock here from all over Eldarn. I’ve come to some agreements with a few wholesalers in the last couple of days. However…’

  ‘However?’ Brexan caught him glancing at her bare legs in the dim light. When he looked away she quietly drew the coverlet over them.

  However, Garec and Kellin have a great deal of silver, more money than I would make even in a long-term contract with an Orindale distributor. I know I can put them off for a Moon, if necessary, but I need to feel confident that nothing untoward is going to happen to my ship or my crew on this daisy-run Garec claims we’ll have to Averil. So-’

  So?’ Brexan bit her lip. Stop doing that to him.

  ‘What’s the cargo?’

  She watched the bedside candle flicker in the draft from the hallway. She wanted to tell him the truth. She wasn’t quite sure why; maybe it had something to do with Nedra and the Topgallant Inn. Since Versen and Sallax had died, Brexan had been toying with the idea of a new life, an honest life, in which she always told the truth, and was rewarded through hard, honest work. Sitting here in the half-light, colluding with Captain Doren Ford: this was her old life again, and though she wasn’t slicing him open or crushing his skull, still this felt underhanded to her; dirty, even.

  She decided to start with the truth and see how long she could maintain it. ‘The cargo is people, two men who couldn’t come into Orindale.’

  ‘Outlaws?’ He hadn’t been expecting this; transporting people was relatively easy, even if he was boarded and searched. People were easy to hide or disguise. Once, during the warm season, he had dropped a political outlaw in the Ravenian Sea when Sera Moslip spotted a Malakasian naval cruiser bearing down on them. After the search he’d ordered the Morning Star about and they had picked up their waterlogged guest, none the worse for an aven in the refreshingly warm water, and continued on to the Estrad River. ‘Well, why didn’t Garec say so? People aren’t a problem; we’ve done that before. Who are these fellows? Criminals? Political idealists? Partisans?’

  ‘They are-’ Brexan searched for the right words. ‘They are powerful men.’

  ‘Really? With the Resistance?’ He didn’t care for politics, but for what Garec and Kellin were willing to pay, he would make the run – the daisy-run – to Averil, drop these idealists in the shallows and be back to ship as much as he possibly could to Southport with the southern Twinmoon. With no loading or unloading to worry about, he might even make the run in record time, saving five or six days.

  He felt better about the whole thing now. ‘Brexan, I do apologise for waking you. I’m embarrassed that you-’ He glanced where her naked legs had been.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Captain Ford,’ she said, ignoring the little voice that was nagging her to tell him he was really going to Pellia, and there was a chance he might not survive the trip.

  The soft light of her candles illuminated the lines in his weather-beaten face. He reached out for one. ‘Do you mind if I take this? I need to see my way back to my room. I didn’t use one coming down here; I didn’t want anyone to think-’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Brexan said quickly. ‘Good night, Captain.’

  ‘Good night, and thank you again.’ He started to pull the door closed, then Brexan hissed at him to wait.

  ‘One last thing,’ she murmured, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. ‘Please be careful with these people. I know Garec doesn’t look it, but he can be a dangerous young man.’

  ‘Him? Nonsense,’ Captain Ford smiled. ‘I’ve been around a long time. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Trust me, Captain. If things should take an unexpected turn, remember what I’m telling you. These are nice people, but they’re also partisans, and very tough. They’ve been through a lot.’

  ‘Garec’s a boy; he could be my son,’ he said. ‘Good night, Brexan.’

  As the door swung shut, Brexan whispered, ‘His friends call him Bringer of Death.’

  Ford hesitated. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Then thank you,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  Brexan felt her
insides clench. She was sitting astride a dangerous fence, and she didn’t know on which side she might fall. Tell him to flee, she thought. Come up with some excuse and get him out of this. He’s a nice man, and you’re going to get him killed. She pulled the covers up to her chin and asked, ‘When can we leave?’

  ‘On the turning tide tomorrow, if you’re ready.’

  ‘We’ll be ready.’ She blew out the remaining candles and said, ‘Good night, Captain Ford.’

  In the front room, Garec and Kellin relaxed in great padded chairs by the fire, a mostly empty flagon of wine between them. The landlady had finished clearing up for the evening and had gone to bed an aven earlier. Garec stretched his legs towards the flames and said drowsily, ‘Why are we still awake?’

  Kellin swallowed. Her mouth was dry and tasted like stale wine. ‘Because it’s our first night together in a real boarding house.’

  ‘So what do you call all those nights since the wave washed us almost all the way to the Northern Forest? Weren’t those nights together in a boarding house?’

  ‘Those nights of you shivering with fever and me nearly comatose from the effects of querlis, not knowing where we were, if we’d live through the night, or what we’d do if we did survive to see the sun rise?’ Kellin asked. ‘No, they don’t count!’

  ‘Good point.’ Garec yawned, then blinked to clear his vision. ‘What aven is it?’

  ‘Middlenight, at the earliest.’

  He stared into the fire. ‘You don’t think we’re still awake because we don’t know if Steven and Gilmour are alive, or if we’ve found a captain and crew to get us to Pellia, or if we have the resources, military or mystical, we’ll need to exorcise whatever is holding Mark Jenkins hostage, to free him and send Steven, Hannah – wherever she is – and Mark home to Colorado while simultaneously liberating Eldarn for all time?’

  Kellin smiled. She slid her chair close enough to reach him and slipped a hand under his tunic. Caressing the taut flesh beneath, she whispered, ‘No, I don’t think it’s any of… whatever it was you said just then.’

  Garec, distracted now, took a swallow of wine to moisten his own throat and said huskily, ‘So why are we still down here?’

  She fumbled with leather ties; Garec made no move to stop her. Loosening the knots, she said, ‘How’s your head?’

  ‘The wine and querlis help. How’s your shoulder?’

  ‘The same, I suppose.’ Kellin ran her hand lower, feeling him begin to tremble. ‘Have you ever… in public?’ she murmured softly.

  ‘In a tavern?’ Garec’s eyes widened. ‘No!’

  ‘But you could be convinced?’

  He closed his eyes and slid low in the chair. He wasn’t sure he would make it all the way up to the room without embarrassing himself. He groaned softly and said, ‘At this moment, I’m confident you could convince me of almost anything.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Kellin said, releasing him long enough to use her one good arm to unfasten her own leggings. ‘We’ll head upstairs to continue our conversation, but I think we need to see to something else first.’ She fumbled with her ties and cursed.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Garec interrupted. ‘You busy yourself with something constructive, will you?’

  Kellin laughed as he slid her leggings to the floor and ran his hands up her smooth thighs. ‘Hm, no underclothes,’ he said appreciatively, stroking her flanks.

  She moaned in anticipation, pushed him back in his chair and pulled herself onto him. The chair creaked under their combined weight, but the lovers ignored it as they explored each other’s bodies by the wavering firelight.

  ‘I took them off when I went upstairs earlier,’ she whispered provocatively. Her legs were too thin; she needed a Twinmoon resting and eating, but in Garec’s eyes she was beautiful.

  ‘Upstairs? But that was two avens ago,’ Garec said, sounding shocked. ‘You knew?’

  ‘Of course I knew, you cracked-headed Ronan,’ she cooed as she did something with her internal muscles that left him gasping.

  He held his breath, hoping to hold off the inevitable, but it was no use. As Kellin moved her hips in a lithe, unexpected motion, Garec cupped her soft buttocks.

  ‘Unlace my tunic,’ Kellin breathed in his ear.

  ‘I can’t-’ he gasped, but Kellin was inexorable.

  ‘I want to feel you against my body,’ she panted. ‘I can’t get the laces-’

  Garec closed his eyes tight and sucked in a deep breath; he held it as long as he could before crying out, his body spasming with the power of his orgasm. He held her tightly to him as he came, and they stayed entwined together for several long moments.

  Finally he croaked, ‘Upstairs,’ his voice hoarse with effort, ‘upstairs, please.’

  Kellin rested her forehead on his shoulder. ‘Yes, upstairs, now. I want to feel you, all of you – and there’s not enough space here to do everything I want you to do to me.’ She licked his ear and he twitched again. She grinned devilishly, climbed off him and snatched up her leggings.

  ‘Bring the wine,’ she ordered, and made a dash – naked from the waist down – for the staircase at the back of the room.

  Garec struggled out of the chair, looked around for his own leggings, which had somehow ended up tangled under her chair, and rescued them. Staggering slightly, he collected the flagon and followed Kellin up the stairs.

  Marrin Stonnel knocked twice and poked his head around the door to the captain’s cabin. ‘Tide’s turned, Captain,’ he announced.

  Ford was sitting behind a modest desk, writing in his log; he didn’t look up. ‘Are our passengers aboard?’

  ‘Aye sir, she is,’ Marrin said, then corrected himself. ‘Sorry, they are, Captain.’

  Ford pretended not to notice. ‘Good, then we’ll get underway. I’ll be up in a moment, so up anchor and make ready.’

  ‘Our course, Captain?’

  ‘We’ll be heading north once we hit deep water,’ he said, his mind back on the log in front of him.

  ‘North?’

  Marrin’s obvious shock made the captain look up. ‘North, sailor, that’s right. I’ll be up in a moment to give you a heading, but in the meantime, get all hands on deck and make ready. And, Marrin, I don’t like repeating myself.’

  ‘Uh, Captain?’

  ‘What is it?’ Ford was about to lose his temper.

  ‘Well, sir, I was just wondering- Last night, sir, you- I noticed you were gone for a stretch, sir, late last night, and I was wondering-’

  ‘On deck, Marrin, at once!’ Captain Ford roared. He had no idea how anyone knew he had left his room, but if that little piece of gossip was out, he’d have to prepare himself for days of rumour and innuendo. He sighed, then jumped a little as he realised Marrin was still there.

  ‘I’m just saying, sir, that I think it would have been cathartic for you to bring closure to your relationship, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Marrin!’ Captain Ford shouted as he rose from his seat, but the mate had already dashed away.

  He closed his log and stowed it safely, laughing to himself. ‘Closure,’ he murmured as he made his way to the bridge.

  *

  There was a stiff breeze from the south and the Morning Star had already come about and was tugging at her anchor, raring to go. With the Twinmoon only days away, the tides pulled the Ravenian Sea towards the Northern Archipelago. In half an aven, when the slack water started to run, the little Pragan brig-sloop would dash north like a racehorse. With an empty hold she’d be skipping over the waves on a quick and lucrative journey to Averil.

  It was the talk of the crew that the quiet Ronan, the one called Garec, was carrying a lifetime’s savings in silver: easy work for easy silver, something that rarely happened to a merchant sailor. On any other ship, they might well sail into deep water, kill the passengers, pocket the silver and be back in Orindale for their next cargo, but Captain Ford would have none of that; he was no killer – and even if the thought had crossed his mind, Brexan’s w
arning had set him slightly on edge. He didn’t know who was waiting for Garec and Kellin in Averil, or if they had alerted anyone in Orindale to their travel plans. And he didn’t know who the two strangers were – powerful strangers – that they were to pick up outside the city.

  So given that degree of ambiguity, the captain had decided to transport these passengers as quickly as possible, and then start tacking for Orindale as soon as he had discharged his duty. Perhaps Brexan would decide to accompany them back; that would be fine with him.

  No one was more excited about their current journey than Marrin, who had figured that with the Morning Star running empty, he and Sera had about thirty-eight fewer things to get done before making way. As far as he was concerned, this little jaunt was as near to a pleasure-cruise as he was going to get: a half-Moon at sea for no apparent reason. Lovely!

  His enthusiasm was contagious as he fired off a series of ridiculous orders. ‘Mr Tubbs,’ he shouted, ‘secure the for’ad hold!’

  ‘We’re not shipping anything in the for’ad hold, Mr Marrin!’

  Some of the men laughed, while others shouted off-colour jokes.

  ‘Common mistake, Mr Marrin; don’t let it bother you!’

  ‘Mr Tubbs,’ Marrin laughed, ‘secure the aft hold!’

  ‘We’re not shipping anything in the aft hold, Mr Marrin.’ Olren Tubbsward, a grizzled mariner who’d been sailing for more Twinmoons than Marrin had been alive, chuckled as he pawled the capstan.

  ‘Ah, Mr Tubbs, secure the main hold, stow the quartermaster’s inventory and cast off the barges. Get moving, Mr Tubbs, this tide won’t wait!’

  Dropping everything, Tubbs snapped to mock attention. ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Tubbs shouted and, to the amusement of the crew, took several steps before pausing and pointing a gnarled, arthritic finger at his temple. ‘Uh, sir?’

  ‘What is it, Mr Tubbs? Make it quick, sir, make it quick!’ Marrin gripped the helm, doing his best impersonation of Doren Ford.