Sea Born (Chaos and Retribution Book 3)

by Eric T Knight

  “Are you listening, Fen?”

  Fen realized that Ravin was looking at him, waiting for an answer.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said I think I might be part of the servant staff that marches with you.”

  “What?” Fen’s other worries disappeared in an instant. He didn’t want Ravin anywhere near battle. If their army was overrun the servants would be vulnerable. “Why do you say that?”

  “Tasha has been assigning me to serve the Fist more and more. She says he’s calmer around me than the other girls who usually serve him.”

  “Is he?”

  “I don’t know. He scares me, but he hasn’t done anything since that day he yelled at me.”

  “But why would you be going with us?”

  “Did you think the Fist would march off to war without servants?”

  “I guess I never really thought about it.”

  “Quite a few servants are going. I didn’t think I was going to be one of them, but now I’m not so sure. I know Tasha has been making her list.”

  “Then I’m going to talk to her,” Fen said, standing up. “I’ll convince her to leave you behind.”

  But Ravin jumped up too and grabbed his arm before he could hurry off. “No, you won’t!”

  “Why? You don’t want to go, do you?”

  “No. I don’t. I know what can happen in the baggage train if a battle goes against us.” There was fear in her voice, but resolution too.

  “Yet you still want to go.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Fen. I don’t want to go. But I want to do my part. You’re not the only one who wants to serve his people, you know.”

  “But you can serve here.”

  “And then someone else is forced to go in my place? No,” she said, shaking her head. “If she chooses me, I’ll go. You’re not going to stop that.” She took his hand. “Besides, if I go maybe I’ll get to see you sometimes?”

  A soldier came hurrying by then. He saw Fen and saluted. “Did you hear the news?” he asked excitedly.

  “What news?” Fen asked, though in his heart he already knew what it was.

  “We’re marching tomorrow.” He smacked a fist into his open hand. “Finally we’re going to show those Maradi what retribution feels like.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Is it true? Are we marching out tomorrow?” Noah asked when Fen got to the barracks a few minutes later.

  “It looks like it,” Fen said distractedly. He was still thinking about Ravin coming with them. Though he’d told Ravin he would stay out of it, the truth was that if he had it in his power to get her removed from the list, he would. He hated the thought of her being so close to danger.

  “So it’s really happening,” Gage said. “We’re going to war.”

  They were all silent for a moment then, absorbing this fact.

  “It doesn’t quite seem real,” Gage continued. “I’ve been training for this for what, four years now? I knew this day would come but still, now that it’s here…” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine it.”

  “I know how you feel,” Lukas said. He was slumped on his cot, rubbing his eyes. “Gods, I wonder if I’ll sleep at all tonight.”

  “I’m going to a tavern tonight, that’s what I’m doing,” Noah said. “I’m going to drink ale until they run out. Then I’ll go to another tavern and empty their kegs. Who’s coming with me?”

  “I’ll go,” Lukas said, standing up. He looked a little pale. “I could use a drink.”

  “Count me in,” Gage said. Which was a little surprising, since Gage hardly ever drank.

  “I’ll be there,” Strout said.

  “Wolfpack squad,” Wallice said, and his brother nodded. Silently they banged forearms together.

  “What about you?” Noah asked Fen.

  Fen shook his head. “I’m going to spend time with Ravin.” He expected them to razz him, especially Noah, but the short man simply nodded.

  “If I had a girl, I’d be with her tonight,” he said.

  Then Cowley surprised them all. “Do you mind if Amma and I tag along with you?” he asked Fen.

  “What?” Noah cried. “Him, I expected. But you?”

  “I thought you were never going to talk to Amma again,” Lukas said. “It’s what you said.”

  “I say lots of things,” Cowley replied. “You shouldn’t listen to all of them. Or any of them.”

  “Boy, that’s the truth,” Gage said.

  “Is that really you in there?” Strout asked, looking Cowley up and down.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Tell me where you’re going, though. Maybe I’ll come by later.”

  A while later Fen and Cowley were walking across the castle grounds to meet Amma and Ravin. They were cleaned up and dressed in their best clothes. “What’s this all about?” Fen asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cowley said. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, what with the war coming up and all. It’s made me realize that maybe I’ve been an ass sometimes. I’ve been acting like a little kid. Maybe it’s time to change, you know? I mean, I could die in the first battle. An arrow could drop out of the sky and that would be it. And what would I leave behind? Nothing. Who would miss me? No one.”

  “Hey, that’s not true. I’d miss you.”

  “No, because you’d be dead too.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’d be so overcome with grief at your best friend’s death that you’d charge recklessly into battle. You’re the hero type so you’d probably single-handedly save the day. But you’d be mortally wounded at the same time. With your last breath you’d say something noble like, everything you’d ever done was inspired by me. It’d be tragic, really.”

  Fen stared at him in disbelief. “You really believe any of the crap that comes out of your mouth?”

  “Not really. I’m always surprised when anyone else does. Anyway, I’ve been thinking and that got me to talking to Amma, trying to make it up to her. I had to apologize quite a lot of times—apparently I’ve been kind of a bad boyfriend—but she finally came around. And so when you said you were spending tonight with Ravin, well, I thought I should do the same. It would be fun to go raise hell with the guys, but maybe this will be fun too.”

  “Try to control your excitement.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” The smile Cowley gave him was a little wan. “This kind of thing isn’t easy for me the way it is for you. I have a reputation to live up to, after all.”

  “You mean to live down to.”

  “Something like that.” Cowley got a somber look on his face. In a low voice he said, “The thing is, Fen, I don’t think I’m coming back. I don’t think I’ll survive.”

  Fen looked at his friend in horror. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

  “I can’t help myself. It’s what I believe in my heart.”

  “You don’t know that. You’re just worried like the rest of us.”

  “The rest of us? You mean you, the perfect soldier, are worried? The one with magic powers? I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true.”

  “It’s a feeling I have. I don’t know how it will happen, but it will happen. I want to make sure Amma remembers me in a good way is all.”

  Fen had never heard his old friend sound like this. Cowley was always so brash, so confident. “You’re wrong,” he said fiercely. He threw his arm over Cowley’s shoulders and shook him a little. “I’m going to make sure of it. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”

  “You’re a good friend, Fen. I’ve always said that. And that’s why I want you to have my things after I’m gone.”

  “What things? Some dirty clothes? Thanks, but I already have my own. Besides, you’re going to need that stuff.” Fen looked up and saw the two young women standing outside the palace, waiting for them. “Enough of that kind of talk, okay? That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cowley said, giving h
im a sloppy salute.

  When they walked up to the women Cowley was his usual humorous, sarcastic self. Fen could only look at him and marvel. It was hard to imagine that only a minute earlier he’d been talking about his own death.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Cowley said, bowing deeply. “You’re both looking fantastic tonight. So beautiful that the stars themselves demanded clouds so they don’t have to come out and be ashamed by the comparison.” Amma was wearing a long, sleeveless dress of midnight blue, with a plunging neckline and lace edging the hem. Ravin’s dress was yellow and cinched tight around her waist with a leather belt.

  “You smooth-tongued devil, you,” Amma said, pulling him in and giving him a kiss. “I know it’s all crap, but I confess to loving it anyway.”

  “He’s right, you know,” Fen whispered into Ravin’s ear when he hugged her. “You do look beautiful.”

  “I had to call in a few favors,” Cowley said, “but I was able to get us a table at Veni’s.” He gave Fen a wink. “Maybe this time you’ll stay and see what the food actually tastes like.” It was the same restaurant Fen had taken Ravin to the night she broke up with him.

  “Best of all, Cowley has generously offered to pay,” Fen said. “And he said we could order anything we want.”

  Both of the women exclaimed over this. Fen didn’t miss the somewhat sickly look Cowley got on his face when he said this, and Fen grinned at him, glad to finally get one over on his friend. As they started for the gates, Cowley grabbed Fen’s arm and whispered to him. “Not funny, Fen. You know I don’t have enough coin to pay for all of us.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll have some dishes you can wash to make up for it,” Fen shot back. He was realizing how much he enjoyed this feeling of having a leg up on Cowley.

  “All I can say is you better have brought your coin purse,” Cowley said, then hurried to catch up with Amma.

  On the way to the restaurant, Cowley entertained them with a story about how he’d met Veni, the owner of the restaurant they were dining at.

  “…and as I walk up I see Veni shinnying down the trellis. He’s got his pants on backwards and only one arm in his shirt. The woman’s husband is on the balcony screaming bloody murder. Then the husband starts grabbing whatever he can lay his hands on and throwing it at Veni, who has realized by then that the plants growing up the trellis are roses and the thorns are tearing all kinds of new holes in him. Unfortunately for Veni, once the husband runs out of things on the balcony to throw, he runs back into the bedroom and when he comes out he’s carrying a chamber pot.” Cowley paused for effect.

  “Oh, no,” Ravin said, putting her hand over her mouth. “He didn’t…did he?”

  Cowley grinned. “He most certainly did. Dumped it right on poor Veni’s head. Then he throws the pot and bounces it off Veni’s shoulder. Veni almost loses his hold on the trellis and has to hug the rose bushes tight to keep from falling.”

  “He’s lucky the husband didn’t kill him,” Amma said.

  “He wanted to, that’s for sure. But he was fat and old and Veni’s no slouch when it comes to a fight. He grew up down by the docks after all. Finally, Veni gets to the bottom of the trellis, but before he can hotfoot it out of there, the door to the house opens and out comes the husband’s personal bodyguard. The guy is huge, like a bull on two feet. He starts banging Veni’s head against the wall and Veni starts bleeding like a stuck pig. It wasn’t pretty, let me tell you.

  “That’s when I stepped in. Veni had paid his price. There was no need to kill him. I didn’t want to watch the poor man get his head caved in.”

  “What did you do?” Ravin asked.

  “I convinced the bodyguard to let him go. After that, as you can imagine, Veni was very grateful. Not grateful enough to give us a free meal, but at least we can get in the door, and that’s more than most people can do.”

  “I’ve heard the food is the best,” Amma said. “And the view is spectacular.”

  “You’ve heard right,” Cowley said. “Wait and see.”

  At the bottom of the stairs that led up to the restaurant was a thick-necked guard dressed in fine clothes that did little to hide his bulging muscles or the fact that he had a short sword and a cudgel hanging from his waist. He gave them a flat stare as Cowley told him his name and that they had reservations, but he didn’t uncross his arms or move.

  “Well?” Cowley said after several long seconds passed.

  Grudgingly, the guard consulted his list. With his thick finger holding his place he looked back at Cowley. “Cowley?” he said.

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “Huh.” The guard set the list down, but still he didn’t move out of the way.

  “Is there a problem?” Cowley asked.

  The guard looked them up and down. Then he said, “A certain standard of attire is required at this establishment. The ladies are fine. You two…” He shook his head slowly.

  “What’s wrong with how we’re dressed?” Cowley asked. Both he and Fen were wearing clean surcoats with the Fist’s insignia on them. Their breeches were worn, but mostly clean.

  “Standard of attire,” the guard rumbled.

  “I am a personal friend of Veni,” Cowley spluttered.

  “Lots of them say that.”

  Before Cowley could say anything more, Amma stepped forward. “While it’s true their dress is not up to your usual standards,” she said, “I’m hoping you’ll make an exception this time. As you can see, they are soldiers, and they are marching off to war against Marad tomorrow. They’ll be fighting for us. Shouldn’t that be worth something?” She gave him her sweetest smile and laid one hand on his arm.

  The guard considered this. “This time,” he said at last. “But the swords stay here. No weapons in the restaurant.” Fen and Cowley unbuckled their swords and handed them over and the guard let them by.

  “That was irritating,” Cowley said.

  “Maybe if you’d spend a bit less of your pay on drink and a bit more on clothing, we wouldn’t have this sort of problem,” Amma said, linking her arm through his.

  They climbed up several flights to the roof of the building.

  “It’s beautiful,” Amma and Ravin both said as they stepped out onto the roof.

  In the center of the restaurant was a small fountain. Small lanterns with colored glass panes were hung on lines strung overhead. More lanterns hung on the wrought iron fence that encircled the roof. Two musicians sat in one corner, playing soft, romantic music. There were flowers everywhere, spilling out of large clay pots standing in the corners, and in vases on every table.

  “It’s even nicer than I remember,” Ravin said.

  A man came bustling over to them. He was wearing tight-fitting black pants, a white shirt with puffy sleeves, and a black vest. His hair was oiled down and the smile on his face was smooth and professional.

  “Good evening, Cowley,” he said. “So glad you could join us.”

  “It’s good to be here,” Cowley replied. “Reco, these are my friends.” He introduced the three of them. “See that they have whatever they want, will you?”

  “Of course.” Reco escorted them across the restaurant. Fen couldn’t help but notice that everyone was dressed much nicer than they were. He’d never seen so much velvet and silk in his life, and there were enough jewels to blind a man. Though their dresses were simple, Ravin and Amma looked good enough to fit in, but he and Cowley stuck out like farmers at a society ball. They might as well be carrying piglets under their arms. And people noticed. There were more than a few sarcastic smiles and whispered snide comments as they passed. He tried to ignore them, but his face got hot all the same.

  Reco led them to a table in the corner, where they could look out over the lights of the city.

  “Wine, Reco, and make sure it’s one of the good vintages,” Cowley said as they sat down. Reco hurried off to bring them wine.

  In a low voice Amma said, “Are you sure you can afford this, Cowley?�
��

  “Of course,” Cowley said. “Not a problem.” But Fen thought he saw sweat gathering at his temples. Fen himself was worried. He’d brought every copper penny he could scrounge up and even borrowed a few silvers from Gage, but he wasn’t sure if it would be enough. He was thinking about pretending he didn’t feel all that well so that he could avoid eating and keep the bill down to a manageable level, but a moment later he discarded the idea. This might be the last time all four of them were ever together. Why not let go and enjoy the evening, deal with the consequences later?

  “How do you know Reco?” Ravin asked. “I thought you knew the owner of this place.”

  “If you spent more time around Cowley, you’d realize that he knows everybody,” Amma put in before Cowley could reply. She looked at Cowley. “Let me guess. He’s someone you drink with or gamble with.”

  “Or both,” Cowley said, holding up one finger. “I might have also helped Reco out of tight spot when some trappers in town to sell pelts accused him of playing with shaved dice. Which he was, but that’s no reason to threaten to skin a man and tan his hide.”

  The meal was as good as advertised, some kind of quail that Fen had never had, cooked in a cream sauce with mushrooms and tiny onions. There was bread, so light it seemed it might blow away, and a rice dish seasoned with something yellow and spicy that he’d never had either. Dessert was a pastry topped with cream and chocolate that tasted strongly of honey.

  When they were done they sat there, everyone a little too full, their conversation having died down to a pleasant silence. Fen thought this might be the happiest he’d ever been. He wished he could freeze this moment and stay here forever. Cowley and Amma had gotten along beautifully the whole evening—which was unusual in itself, since they usually quarreled at least once every hour—and being here with Ravin, watching the way she ate, the lines beside her mouth when she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled up. It was all perfect.

  And then it wasn’t.

  ╬ ╬ ╬

  There was a commotion over by the stairs. One of the waiters was speaking loudly to a group of men who had appeared, telling them they couldn’t be there. Then a blade flashed and the waiter cried out and staggered backwards. He fell on a table and it tipped over with a crash of breaking glass and china. A woman screamed and everyone started talking at once.