ERAK'S RANSOM

by John Flanagan

  'Then,' Gilan continued, 'in my last few weeks, I realised how much I didn't know.'

  'You?' Will said incredulously. 'But you're — '

  Gilan held up a hand to silence him. I started thinking, "What am I going to do without Halt to advise me? What will I do when he's not around to clear up the mistakes I make?" And the whole thing had me shaking in my boots.

  'I thought, "I can't possibly do this job. I can't be Halt! How can I ever be as wise and clever and, let's face it, as downright sneaky as he is?" Is that pretty much the way you're feeling now?' he concluded.

  Will was shaking his head in amazement. 'That's it in a nutshell! How can I be like Halt? How can anyone?' Again, the enormity of it all weighed down on him and his shoulders slumped. Gilan put a comforting arm around them.

  'Will, the very fact that you're worrying about it says you'll be up to the job. Remember, nobody expects you to be Halt. He's a legend, after all. Haven't you heard? He's eight feet tall and kills bears with his bare hands ... '

  Will had to smile at that. Halt's reputation throughout the Kingdom was pretty much the way Gilan had stated it. People meeting him for the first time were surprised to find he was actually a little smaller than average.

  'So you can't possibly live up to that. But remember this, you have been trained by the very best in the business. And you've been privileged to stand beside him for the past five years and see how he approaches a problem. Believe me, a lot of that rubs off. Once you have your own fief, you'll soon realise how much you do know.'

  'But what if I make a mistake?' Will asked.

  Gilan threw back his head and laughed. 'A mistake? One mistake? You should be so lucky. You'll make dozens! I made four or five on my first day! Of course you'll make mistakes. Just don't make any of them twice. If you do mess things up, don't try to hide it. Don't try to rationalise it. Recognise it and admit it and learn from it. We never stop learning, none of us. Not even Halt,' he added, seriously.

  Will nodded his gratitude. He felt a little better. He cocked his head suspiciously.

  'You're not just saying this to make me feel better, are you?' he asked.

  Gilan shook his head. 'Oh no. If you don't believe me, ask Halt to tell you about some of my whoppers. He loves reminding me of them. Now let's go see what they've been talking about so seriously.'

  And with his arm around the younger man's shoulders still, he led him away from the bow and back to the small group by the tiller. Halt glanced up as they approached, caught a look from Gilan and had a pretty shrewd idea what they had been talking about.

  'Where have you two been?' he asked, his tone light.

  'Admiring the view,' Gilan told him. 'Thought you might need some advice from the two wisest heads on board.'

  Halt said nothing. But his suddenly raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  * * *

  Wolfwind slipped through the narrow opening in the breakwater that protected Al Shabah harbour. She was under oars, and the sail had been gathered and furled to the yardarm. At the peak of the mast flew Evanlyn's pennant — four metres long, undulating slowly in the offshore breeze to display a red hawk on a white field.

  Even if the red hawk device itself were not recognised, the extreme length of the pennant, and its shape — broad where the hawk device was shown, then narrowing rapidly until it split into two swallow tails a metre from its end — were enough to indicate that the ship was carrying a royal delegation — an ambassador at least, or perhaps even a member of a royal family. Svengal had ordered the pennant unfurled when they were still a kilometre offshore, making it clear that his ship had no warlike intent.

  In spite of that fact, the crews of the dozen or so merchant ships that were anchored in the harbour or tied up to docks had armed themselves and stood ready along their bulwarks to repel any attempted attack by the Skandians. Sailors in this part of the world, and most others, for that matter, knew the Skandian reputation all too well. The presence of a royal standard did little to allay their suspicions.

  Wolfwind, lean, narrow and deadly looking, slipped past the first of the anchored ships, for all the world like a wolf slinking among a flock of fat, nervous sheep.

  'Looks like we have a reception committee,' Halt said, indicating the main wharf that ran along the inland side of the harbour. There, they could see a body of men drawn up — perhaps fifty in all — and from time to time, the sun glinted off burnished armour or weapons. A green banner was waving from the pier — the international signal that they were cleared to come alongside.

  Svengal leaned on the tiller and the bow swung towards the inner harbour. The bow oarsman called the stroke and the wolfship moved smoothly up the harbour.

  'I'd better get my reception clothes on,' Evanlyn said. She slipped below, into the small triangular cabin at the stern of the ship. There was barely head room for her to stand erect there but at least she had a little privacy. A few minutes later, she re-emerged. She had replaced her usual leather tunic with a longer one of dull red satin, which came almost to her knees. It was beautifully embroidered and carried a small red hawk device on the left breast. A broad leather belt gathered the red tunic at the waist. Will noticed idly that the belt was decorated with what seemed to be interwoven leather thongs, threaded in and out through slits in the belt itself, and Criss-crossing for its entire length.

  The long boots and hose remained, as did the white silk shirt she wore under the tunic. On her blonde hair, hastily brushed and gathered, she wore a red, narrow-brimmed hat with a long bill. A single hawk's feather was set in the hat band.

  She wore a necklace Will had never seen before. It was made of dull grey stones, all the same size. They didn't look to be expensive or even semi-precious stones. More like smooth marble, in fact. He assumed it was just a favourite piece of costume jewellery. Maybe she wore it for luck.

  Evanlyn tugged the tunic straight, removing a few last wrinkles where the belt had cinched it too tightly. She cleared her throat nervously.

  'How do I look?' she asked Halt.

  He nodded approval. 'Just the right blend of practicality and formality,' he replied.

  She flashed a quick grin at him. She was nervous, Halt saw.

  'Svengal and I will do the talking for the time being. These will just be minor officials — the harbourmaster and so forth,' he said. 'Your turn will come when we meet with the Wakir. For the time being, look arrogant and condescending.'

  She started to smile, realised that such an expression didn't fit his instructions and instead arched her eyebrows and raised her chin, tilting her head back imperiously so she could stare down her nose at him.

  'How's that?' she asked. She thought she saw the faintest trace of a grin in the shadows under his cowl. 'That's perfect. You could have been born to it.'

  'Don't make me smile or I'll have you flogged,' she said quietly.

  Halt nodded. 'You could be catching on too fast,' he said. Then his attention was drawn to the business of docking the ship.

  Svengal was a flamboyant ship handler and he brought her in fast. At the last moment, he growled an order and the oarsmen backed water fiercely, taking most of the way off her.

  'Oars!' he called and the dripping blades rose out of the water, coming vertical before the oarsmen laid them down in their brackets. There was the usual clatter of oak on oak.

  The ship ghosted in for a few more metres. They were at an angle of about thirty degrees to the dock and one of the crew threw a line from the bow. An Arridi dockworker quickly grabbed it, wound it once round a bollard and began to haul in.

  A few seconds later, another rope soared over the water from the stern. This too was seized and the men on shore began to haul the wolfship alongside. The crew threw felt and wicker fenders over the side to protect the ship's scantlings from the hard stone of the wharf. As the ropes were made tight fore and aft, Wolfwind rocked gently alongside the jetty, the fenders groaning and creaking slightly as sh
e did so.

  The railing of the ship was a metre or so below the level of the wharf. Evanlyn started towards it but Halt's low voice stopped her.

  'Stay where you are. Look imperious. We have to be invited ashore first.'

  The armed men they had seen from further out were ranged along the wharf now, in two ranks, facing the wolfship. They all had their shields slung ready for action and their hands hovered close by the hilts of their swords. An officer detached himself from the line and strode towards the wharf's edge. Svengal recognised him.

  'This is the bantam rooster who ambushed us in the town square,' he said, in what he thought was a whisper. Halt glanced at Svengal sardonically.

  'I'm sure he's thrilled to hear you say so,' he replied.

  The tall Arridi warrior stopped now, a few paces back from the edge of the wharf. Halt studied him keenly and came to the rapid conclusion that this was a man to be reckoned with. There was an air of assurance about him. Halt sensed that this was not a man to bluster or bluff. He knew what he was doing and he exuded a quiet confidence. He would bear watching, the Ranger thought.

  The Arridi gave them the traditional desert greeting, touching his right hand to his lips, then his forehead, then his lips again. The gesture was borne from the old tribal-saying on first meeting, Halt knew: We will eat. We will consider. We will talk.

  The correct protocol was to return the gesture but Svengal didn't know that. He waved his hand vaguely in the air in a clumsy parody of the man's graceful movement.

  'You're back, northman.' The tones were deep and cultured. The voice was calm and unruffled. Its owner had learned the skill of projecting his words without seeming to shout them.

  'I've come for the Oberjarl,' Svengal said. He wasn't one for the niceties of protocol or beating round the bush. The Arridi smiled. 'Svengal, isn't it?'

  Svengal nodded pugnaciously. 'Aye. It is. But you've got the advantage of me.' He felt uncomfortable, standing below the other man, forced to look up to him. He wondered where the Arridi had learned his name and decided that Erak must have mentioned it to him. In their previous encounter, there had been no introductions. Svengal and the crew had been held prisoner separate from Erak, until the day of their release, when the Oberjarl gave Svengal his instructions about the ransom.

  'I am called Seley el'then by my people,' the Arridi told him. 'Foreigners usually find it more convenient to shorten the name to Selethen. I am a captain in the Arridi Guard.'

  'Well ... enchanted,' Svengal replied brusquely. He recalled the word from some dim memory of lessons in politeness that he'd been given when he was younger. He assumed it was appropriate. Selethen's face remained expressionless but Will was sure he could see a trace of a smile in the dark eyes.

  'We didn't expect you back so soon,' Selethen said. Then he gestured to the long pennant that still floated lazily in the slight breeze. 'Nor did we expect you in such company. Surely you haven't had time to return to your home country? Whose flag is that flying at your masthead?'

  Halt thought it was time somebody gave Svengal a spell. The Skandian was a master at navigation and seamanship, but his negotiating skills were limited to brandishing an axe and bellowing, 'Hand over everything you've got.' A smoother approach was called for here.

  'Captain Svengal is a friend of the Royal Family of Araluen,' he said, stepping forward. As he spoke, he slipped his cowl back so that his face and features were no longer in shadow. 'That pennant is an Araluan Royal Standard, belonging to my lady here.'

  He indicated Evanlyn, who was doing her best to look disinterested and condescending at the same time. The Arridi glanced at her and she felt his keen eyes on her. She thought a contemptuous toss of the head might be in keeping. She tossed it contemptuously.

  Selethen switched his gaze back to Halt.

  'And your lady is?' he queried.

  'My lady is prepared to negotiate the terms of the Oberiarl's release with your leader,' Halt told him smoothly. 'Erak, too, is a close friend of the Royal Family of Araluen.'

  He felt it was best to keep the captain guessing as to Evanlyn's real identity and position. Uncertainty such as that could work for them. And there was no real need to reveal her title to an underling.

  Selethen considered this fact for a few seconds. Obviously, it was an unexpected turn in proceedings. His face, however, showed no sign of the rapid thinking and evaluation that was going on behind his calm, unflustered look. Eventually, he spoke again.

  'Unfortunately, the Wakir is not available today,' he said. He faced Svengal again. 'As I said, we did not expect you to return so soon. Unless ... ' He let the thought tail off.

  'Unless what?' Svengal wanted to know. The Arridi inclined his head apologetically.

  'Unless you had gathered some of your countrymen and came back here to release him by force,' he said.

  Svengal grunted. 'The thought did occur to me.'

  This time, they all saw the smile on Selethen's dark face.

  'I'm sure it did. However, the fact remains that it is impossible to arrange a meeting with the Wakir at such short notice. We could not contemplate such a thing before tomorrow.'

  Halt nodded agreement. 'Tomorrow will be fine.' He hesitated. 'Could we perhaps see Oberjarl Erak in the meantime?'

  Selethen was already shaking his head before he finished the request. 'Unfortunately this is not possible either. But I can offer her ladyship comfortable quarters until tomorrow. We have a guesthouse that will certainly be more comfortable than a Skandian raiding ship.'

  He indicated a substantial two-storey building set back a little from the quay. Unlike the solid, featureless warehouses along the quay, it had shaded balconies and wide doorways and windows on the upper floor.

  'There is room there for your ladyship and her immediate party,' he said. 'The ship's crew will have to remain on board, I regret to say.'

  His even tone told them that he didn't regret it too deeply. Halt shrugged. No town would want thirty fully armed Skandians coming ashore. He was certain that the bulk of the Arridi soldiers currently on the wharf would remain there to keep an eye on things.

  'Fine by me,' Svengal said gruffly. There was no way he would be willing to leave his ship empty and undefended while he was in a potentially hostile port. He'd rather they kept an eye on Wolfwind. Any Skandian ashore was always mindful that his ship was his only line of retreat.

  'Then if you would follow me?' The Arridi captain gestured in the direction of the guesthouse and began to turn away. Evanlyn's crisp voice stopped him.

  'Captain Seley el'then! Aren't you forgetting something?'

  He turned back, impressed by her tone of command and by the fact that she had mastered the full form of his name perfectly, after having heard it only once. He bowed deeply.

  'My lady?' he asked and she strode forward to the rail of the ship, holding out her right fist to display a large signet ring on the second finger.

  'Surely you'll need to convey my seal to your Wakir before he can consent to our meeting?'

  Again, her pronunciation was perfect as she managed to add the slight guttural sound to the initial letter of Wakir. Selethen nodded apologetically and produced a small wax impression box. It was about the size of a box that would contain a ring. It was made from gleaming ebony and had a snap-hinged lid.

  'But of course, my lady,' he said. He passed the little box to Halt, who hinged back the lid and handed it to Evanlyn. Inside was a layer of firm wax. She pressed her ring into it now, leaving the clear impression of her hawk device. Then she snapped the lid shut to protect it from damage and handed it back to Halt. The Ranger passed it back to Selethen, who tucked it away into a pouch on his belt.

  'Now perhaps I could show you to your accommodation?' he said.

  Halt and Gilan stepped up onto the wharf as Selethen drew back to allow them access. They turned and held their hands down to Evanlyn and she stepped up lightly after them. Will and Horace followed. Svengal, after a few brief words of instruction to
Axel, mainly along the lines of, 'Nobody is to come aboard', brought up the rear.

  Selethen eyed the three figures in the grey and green cowled cloaks, taking in the massive longbows that each of them wore slung over their shoulders.

  Strange, he thought. I must find out more about these.

  He gave a quiet order and a file of ten soldiers detached themselves from the wharf contingent and led the way towards the guesthouse. As Horace passed Selethen, the two warriors eyed each other and like recognised like. Selethen saw the broad shoulders, the tapered hips and the easy balanced stride. A long straight sword hung at the Araluan's belt.

  This one I understand, thought Selethen. He would make a dangerous enemy.

  At the same time, Horace was taking in the slim build, the athletic movement and the long curved sword that hung at Selethen's side.

  This one would be a bit of a handful, he thought. They were both right.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  * * *

  They spent a comfortable night in the guesthouse. A dozen of Selethen's men remained on guard outside but the visitors were allowed to leave the house and walk around the immediate vicinity if they chose to.

  They were served with food and drink — fruit juices and water in the latter case. The food was delicious — cold fowl of some kind, served with salad greens with a distinctive sharp lemon dressing and fresh flat bread. Horace tore at a leg of the fowl and crammed vast amounts of the bread into his mouth.

  'This is all right,' he said enthusiastically. 'We're doing well for prisoners.'

  'We're not prisoners,' Halt reminded him. 'We're a diplomatic delegation.'

  Horace nodded. 'I keep forgetting,' he said, spraying bread crumbs in all directions. Halt quickly backed away. Then the warrior's attention was distracted by the half-dismembered bird on the platter before him and he rummaged through the pieces.