Ghosian shrugged. “That may make a difference. I do not know. I simply warn you. As a friend.”
“We will deal with it later,” Callo said. “For now, Ghosian—your price for passage?”
Kirian let the negotiations fade from her attention as she pondered the role of women in Ha’las. She had not thought through what she wished to do in that foreign land, but she hadn’t intended to be tied to her male companions. The thought of remaining in Two Merkhan crossed her mind; perhaps she could wait for Kin and Rashiri to make their next visit and return with them on the Homebound. Perhaps the villagers would hide her.
The idea of hiding, perhaps for months, oppressed her. She looked out the porthole and saw the bright sun glittering off the sea past the clutter of ships in port, and grinned to herself. She would find a way to remain independent, even in Ha’las. She returned to the conversation to find that Lord Callo had negotiated passage for all of them and their horses—the little lady’s mare as well, Kirian exulted—for the exorbitant price of thirty kels.
“My lord,” protested Chiss when Callo nodded his agreement. Callo waved his manservant’s protest aside. Ghosian, red-cheeked and grinning, extended a hand to shake Lord Callo’s.
“It is done!” Ghosian said. “You will not be sorry, my lord. The Fortune will give you every comfort due to you. Your horses will be treated like the best Southern racehorses! Our cook will provide you with dinners worthy of your station. And I will make my best store of Smoke available to you and your companions.”
“That last won’t be necessary,” Lord Callo said. He rose and then ducked his head, recalling the low ceiling just in time. He quirked an eyebrow at Kirian, and she laughed.
On deck, while their cabins were being made ready, Chiss said, “My lord, thirty kels? Remember your funds must last us a long time now.”
Callo shrugged. “I bought more with our thirty kels than passage, Chiss. I bought conditional silence.”
“He does not strike me as a secretive man.”
Callo laughed. “No, but Ghosian has an eye open for the best chance. He will do his best not to inform on us. Remember, Ghosian has no wish to lose his favored position between the Leyish government and King Martan. He doesn’t want Sharpeyes angry at him.”
Kirian’s cabin looked more like a servant’s closet. It was barely big enough for the cot and herself. It was dark, with no porthole. There was a hook on the wall, holding a candle enclosed in perforated tin. But the blankets folded on the cot were thick and soft, and she rejoiced that at least she would not have to share a cabin.
Chiss knocked on her door after a while to tell her they were going to check on the disposition of the horses. He sneered at her cabin and offered to talk to Ghosian about obtaining a larger one, but she refused. When he left, she wrapped the old cloak around herself and set off to look around the ship.
It was nearing dusk now, and the Fortune’s crew was preparing to depart Two Merkhan. Hatches were tied down and crates on deck made fast. Ghosian must have succeeded with his bribery of customs, since there was no sign of any inspection. Kirian stood at the deck rail and looked back at the docks. They looked different now, not as safe, inhabited by different people. The shopping women were gone. There were no merchants trailing clerks with ledgers. Instead, the docks were sparsely lit with oil lamps on pegs outside shops that looked like taverns. Their doors hung open and the murmur of men’s voices came from within, along with a shout of song here and there, and the clatter of pottery. On the dock were only seamen at leave, and guardsmen, one mounted, two on foot, keeping the peace. The row of docked ships stood cloaked by the progressing dark, and shadows pooled on the dock where there were no taverns trying to attract business. To the west, except for several mage-lit markers in the crescent harbor, was only darkness.
She sighed and stepped back from the rail. It was time to go back to the cabin. Perhaps there would be food soon – the wondrous dinners Ghosian had promised them. She smiled as she realized Ghosian had been delighted with the passage fee Callo had agreed to. My Lord Callo was not a bargainer, but who should expect a nobleman to be good at such a thing?
Walking back to her little cabin, she heard a hatch thud closed as she passed. A cold draft blew under her cloak, chilling her lightly-clad legs. Surely there had been a murmur of voices there, just a moment ago, and then silence. She looked around and saw darkness filling up the corners of the ship, deepened rather than eliminated by the yellow lanterns on the rail. She hesitated, looking at the hatch cover again, then heard a creak as if a door eased open. She spun, and saw a cabin door ajar, and in its opening a face she knew very well.
“Gods above,” she whispered.
The face looked downward, the pale and gray hair ghostly in the dusk. Then the cabin door closed. Inmay had said nothing.
She walked on, to her cabin, where she changed into her other set of clothing. Kirian was pleased to have something to make her feel appropriately dressed for the Captain’s dinner. She slipped her ten kels into a pocket. She combed her hair and tried to banish Inmay from her mind. She tried hard to convince herself she had not seen Inmay at all.
Ghosian’s table was almost as good as he had promised. She sat at table next to Lord Callo, himself wearing a valus-trimmed tunic that proclaimed his status but must have been unbearably hot in the close quarters of the Captain’s cabin. There were two other guests of the Captain: a young Leyish lady who was draped in colors as rich as Ghosian’s, and her companion. The lady wore two earrings in each lobe. Kirian had thought that was a seamen’s style, flashy and outrageous, but now she realized it must be common in Leyland. The lady’s older companion also wore them.
Chiss stood behind for a while, and served them; this bothered her. After a while Callo enquired what was causing her terrible frown, and she asked why Chiss was not seated with them.
“Oh, he prefers it this way,” Lord Callo said.
She doubted that, but said nothing more. After a while, when she saw Chiss and the captain’s servant step outside for a breath of fresh air, she envied him.
Kirian did full justice to the baked fish and buttery potatoes offered them. The drink filled her mind with clouds; she was not used to such strong wine. Ghosian dominated the first candlemark with tales of his latest journey from Leyland to Two Merkhan, and the sea monster that he said had delayed them for more than a sennight while they debated how it could be killed or avoided. The Leyish lady, who had glimpsed the monster from deck, described it in a breathy, frightened voice. Kirian hoped they encountered nothing like that on the way to Ha’las, but Ghosian said: “No, Hon Kirian, these creatures stay to warmer waters.”
The Leyish lady began talking politics over dessert. She had heard of a new group at a southern Righar port, an unbound color mage and his followers, who were talking up the overthrow of the King’s mage-supported rule.
“I saw a drawing of him,” the lady said with wide eyes, shaking her head. “A scary man, all wild hair and eyes. You can tell he has no binding; he looks half crazy.”
“An unbound mage is not invariably crazy,” Callo said.
“I have heard that the magic drives them crazy, if they are not taught and Collared,” the lady said, her eyes avid. Her companion ate dessert beside her, seeming to pay no attention. “I have been told they are unmanageable, and can’t control their impulses.”
Ghosian said, “I fear you are misinformed, my lady. Though I also hear there have been some cases of madness, Lord Callo?”
“Occasionally. The color magery is hard to control. But only the righ lords are Collared, my lady, and some mages are even left unbound. Not many, it is true, because His Majesty prefers it that way.”
Ghosian gave a huge belly laugh. “King Martan knows how to protect himself, eh? Bind anyone who can cause him trouble. I have heard of worse ways to ensure one’s security. Now, my lady, would you like more wine before you leave us?”
The lady’s companion spoke up. “No, Captain, thank you a
nyway for your gracious hospitality. I will conduct my lady to her cabin now.”
The lady giggled in a way that made Kirian think she had enjoyed far too much wine already. Her companion rose and stood by her until the lady rose, complimenting Ghosian extravagantly. As she pushed her chair back, her eyes laughed into Ghosian’s. The Captain and Lord Callo rose, too, bowing, and Ghosian’s eyes swept the lady’s slender form as she left the cabin. Kirian wondered if the companion slept in the same cabin as the lady, and if not, whether Ghosian would find his way there later that night.
When they were gone, Lord Callo asked her how she liked her cabin.
“It is comfortable,” she said. “I cannot wait to see Las’ash.”
“It is a grim place, Las’ash,” Ghosian said. “But all I can speak of is the port area. It is restricted, you know, my lord—we are not permitted into the city itself.”
“How will we enter then?” Kirian asked.
Lord Callo shrugged. “I hadn’t considered it.”
Kirian stared at him. How like a righ, to assume all barriers would be cut down before him. “Well, we must do so. What if we end up deported, or imprisoned even?”
Ghosian grinned. “I have been putting in at Las’ash, legally or not, for a decade. I’ve made some few connections there. I think we can get you in, my lord. It may require a little . . . incentive.”
“Of course. So no one comes out of Las’ash either?” Lord Callo asked. He sat back, sipping his wine. His broad shoulders leaned against the tall chair-back.
“I did not say that,” Ghosian said. “Thrice I have been able to bring Righans out of the city—and my predecessor brought more than one. Find them and you may unlock the stories of the ku’an. I myself have never seen one.”
“Not one ku’an? In ten years?”
“Strange, is it not? And the ku’an so talked about. They protect their women from them. They say that the ku’an can infect them with a powerful desire, so that the women beg to go with the ku’an.” Ghosian sighed, as if he wished he had this power over women. “They say the ku’an can pull the life from men’s minds, so that the people so attacked go about their days with deadened minds, like the fish before a Black Tide. And yet—no, I’ve never met even one.”
Callo fell silent as Ghosian himself poured more of the wine into both their cups. The Captain turned his red ring on his thumb, watching Lord Callo, and then gestured at his manservant. The servant brought a tiny brazier and set it in the center of the table. He lit it from a candle. The grassy substance in the brazier burned slowly, releasing a fragrant smoke into the close air of the cabin.
“Captain, when do we leave port?” Kirian asked, trying to think of a way to leave politely. She had no desire to breathe the Smoke.
“We have left, Hon Kirian, unless my second is asleep on the job.”
Kirian listened for a moment. There was only a slight difference in the rocking motion of the ship, but the distant sounds of Two Merkhan that had infiltrated the Captain’s cabin were gone. She shivered, realizing there was no turning back.
Lord Callo seemed to awaken from his consideration. “Are you cold? I have a cloak, back in the cabin. Chiss, would you . . .”
“No, no need. I am fine.” She hesitated. “I am very tired, however. Captain, if I may be excused, I would return to my cabin.”
Callo’s golden eyes glinted with sudden humor. “I cannot imagine what reason you have to be tired, Hon Kirian.”
“The last few days have been exhausting. I’m sure you are tired too, my lord.” She grinned, looking back into the intriguing eyes. “Perhaps you, too, should retire early.”
Ghosian gave a bray of laughter. “An invitation, my lord! And from such an unusual piece.”
Just like that, Lord Callo turned cold as ice. She saw his face set, his shoulders square. Before he could speak, Chiss said, “I will escort Hon Kirian back, my lord.”
Silence filled the room. Ghosian watched Lord Callo like a specimen. After a moment, Lord Callo said, “Thank you, Chiss.” And then, looking at Ghosian, “Hon Kirian is a Healer and a respectable woman, Captain. I ask you to remember it.”
“My very deepest apologies, Hon Kirian and my lord.” Ghosian rose and bowed, the lamplight glittering on his jewelry. “Indeed I meant no insult.”
Kirian made a courteous rejoinder and left the Smoke-filled cabin.
“Do not take offense,” Chiss said as he walked her back through the chilly night. “He is only a seaman, after all.”
“Of course,” she said.
Chiss left her at the door to her little cabin. She lit the candle and replaced it in its tin cup; it cast a dim and febrile light on the walls. Kirian sat on the cot and fished her old nightgown out of the bag Ruthan had packed. The cabin felt chilly, but rocked her like a pair of comforting arms. She heard movement in the larger cabin next door and knew Chiss was preparing Lord Callo’s things for his return. She thought of Lord Callo’s eyes, smiling at her, and told herself not to be foolish. After changing, she lay down and pulled the big soft blanket over herself. It wasn’t until she was almost asleep that she remembered Inmay’s pale face staring at her from his own cabin on the Fortune.
After a few minutes, she threw back the blankets, wrapped one of them around her, and left her cabin. She could not let this wait. She had to talk to Chiss.
Chapter Eight
Callo excused himself soon after the Healer had gone. Waving away Ghosian’s offer of wine for his cabin, he pulled his valus fur closer about him and stepped outside.
The night air was very cold and carried a taste of salt. Callo walked over to the deck rail. The sea was calm; the gentle rocking of the ship was little greater than it had been in port. There were lanterns at bow and stern, and a seaman visible at the bow.
He looked east, towards Two Merkhan. The mage-lit beacon in the harbor had fallen behind, its reddish glow blending into the lights of the port. At night, Two Merkhan was a collection of lights, sparse around the hills, growing thicker in what he supposed was the dock area. The docks would be active all night, he knew. Farther South, although he could not see it from here, were the few dim lights of SeagardCastle on its promontory, the village at its feet.
To the west he saw only the black of night.
The breeze stirred his hair, but did nothing to dispel the cloud of Smoke in his brain. He leaned on the rail, looking into the impenetrable dark. The Fortune sailed into the unknown.
Only now, passage safely gained and with his goal before him, did he have a moment to reflect. It had been bitter, these last days, to see his oldest friend turn against him. The knowledge that Arias was to some degree at the mercy of the dictates of his Collar eased this bitterness very little—for surely if he wanted to, his half-brother could overcome that. Surely one binding could not erase the friendship they had shared.
He wished there was something he could do to free Arias from the Collar. He even wondered if the blunt edge of Arias’ hostility would have eased had he stayed to remind Arias of their friendship with his constant presence. But Callo could not stand the thought of staying at SeagardCastle, where he was a pariah, reminded always of the myth his life had been. In the end, every time Arias had met him, his half-brother’s hatred had seemed sharper.
He must accept that there was nothing he could do about Arias. Only King Martan bore the responsibility for that. Perhaps time would make a difference, and someday he would return to Righar and be welcomed by his old friend.
The Smoke is making you stupid, he told himself. Arias will never welcome you again. If you show up, he’ll kill you himself.
Callo knew that there was no going back for a long time. Whatever his reasons for traveling to Ha’las, he was going to an enemy land which had only recently attacked Righar through the Black Tide. Even worse, he had disobeyed the King; Sharpeyes would have his head as a traitor if he ever saw him again.
With a wrench he realized that his little estate near the Leyish border was lost to hi
m. Sharpeyes would seize it immediately. The manor house, the stables, the valley where his tenants raised his crops—all gone. His steward, a man of integrity who had always treated Callo with respect, would curse his name as a traitor. The nobility of Sugetre would raise their brows and whisper behind their hands and say that breeding did tell. He hoped his men and Drale, his second, did not reap any ill effects from their commander’s rebellion.
Callo put his head into his hands. He’d had too much of Ghosian’s excellent red wine. Even worse, that cursed Smoke filled his mind with evil shadows. The tops of the sea’s gentle swells gleamed as he stared down at them.
A seaman had joined the man at the bow. Raised voices drifted back to Callo on the night breeze. They were arguing. He ignored them, but became aware that a sense of misery hung over the ship. Behind him, from one of the cabins, he heard someone cry out, a sound of distress that plunged him deeper into pain.
Someone cleared his throat behind Callo. Callo did not react; he did not care who it was.
“My lord.”
It was Chiss—Chiss, who had come along on this desperate excursion for love of him or for lack of other alternatives. Either way, he owed Chiss something. He tried to push away the murkiness claiming his mind so that he could respond.
“My lord,” Chiss said again. “Come inside.”
“I’m fine out here,” he said, and stared west again, toward Ha’las.
“It is very late. You have been out here for some time.”
He didn’t respond to that. He had never been in so gloomy a mood, so dispiriting that it was hard to keep his attention on Chiss. There was a crash of dropped pottery in the galley and someone swore. He let his mind drift out into the night again.
“Surely you are cold, my lord.”
He twitched the valus fur cloak at Chiss. Why would the man not leave him alone?
“It would be best to come in. I have something I must say to you, my lord. Besides, there is an evil mood on the ship.”
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