by Martin Owton
Kyvan came into the screened-off area carrying a candle-lantern suspended from his hook, followed by two other men. He lifted the lantern with his hook hand. Celaine retreated away from him into the corner of screen and wall as the other men stepped forward and peered at her.
“Pretty face,” said one of the men. “Good cheekbones.”
“How tall is she?” asked the second man.
“Stand up please, Celaine,” said Kyvan. “And let your hair down.”
Cold terror seized Celaine, gripping her chest, leaving her unable to move. Kyvan stepped forward and took the cloth from her hair with his free hand.
“Stand up girl,” he said, taking her by the arm and pulling her irresistibly from the bed.
Celaine put her bare feet down on the rushes. Kyvan released her and she stood shivering in fear, dazzled by the lantern held so close to her that she could feel its heat on her face.
“Alright, Kyvan. I’ll give you a hundred crowns.” said one voice.
“She’s nobly born,” said Kyvan.
“My brother will pay that and more. On my word of honour,” cried Celaine, struggling against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.
“One hundred and twenty. Gold now. I have a customer waiting.”
“Done,” said Kyvan.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“That’s really impressive,” said Maldwyn. He pointed over the ship’s rail at the wooden siege engine that sat on top of the squat tower at the end the harbour wall. “What’s the range of that thing?”
“It depends on what shot they use,” said Aron. “Up to three hundred paces maybe. There’s a second one on that tower.” He pointed to a larger tower of dark stone that formed a corner of the harbour of Keshan. “They cover the whole of the approach channel. If the towers are manned then it would be impossible to bring a naval force in without losing several ships.”
“And the land defences would be equally strong, I presume.”
“Probably stronger. You can see why no-one’s tried to take Keshan since the war.”
“Why aren’t we moving?” Edith joined them at the rail, positioning Maldwyn between her and Aron.
“We’re waiting for them to open the chain that guards the harbour,” said Aron. He pointed to a small rowing boat pulling towards the buoy that marked the end of the chain. “Shouldn’t be too long now.”
The Cuttlefish had ridden a brisk breeze up the coast and reached Keshan well before midday. They anchored off the harbour entrance and three other ships had joined them; two were small coastal traders like the Cuttlefish, the third was a much larger vessel. Aron’s eye was caught by the pennant fluttering at the mast head, a black dragon on a red background. A cold hand seized his stomach and he cursed aloud.
“What is it?” asked Edith.
“Caldon. That ship flies his flag. What are they doing here?”
“Buying or selling,” said Maldwyn. “That’s what you come to Keshan for, isn’t it?”
“Or because you’re running away from something,” said Aron. “And I don’t think they’re running.”
Behind them the captain and a crewman began to raise the anchor, grunting over the capstan as it squealed in rusty protest. Once the job was done the captain came over to them.
“We’ll be docking shortly then things’ll get busy for me,” he said. “I wanted to ask you if you’ve somewhere to stay ashore.”
“No,” said Aron. “We’ve nowhere arranged. Have you somewhere in mind?”
“There’s an old shipmate of mine runs a tavern just a bit up the hill from the harbour. Quiet place with good food and ale. I’ll take you up there if you’ve a mind for it. Be later like.”
“That sounds like exactly what we’re looking for,” said Aron. “Thank you.”
“Don’t you be thanking me, lad. I owe you more than I can repay. You’ll excuse me now. I’ll see you when we’re unloaded.” He turned and walked back to his cabin, pausing to speak to the crewman who was stowing the anchor.
After the Cuttlefish tied up at the wharf, the unloading of the cargo began. They passed the time sitting in the sunshine on the poop deck, watching the stevedores toiling over barrels of fish and great bundles of woollen fleeces. The sun was halfway to the horizon before the captain came to them.
“Always takes a while,” he said, wiping the sweat from his bald head. “Got to account for everything three times over. I’m about ready for a sup of Barty’s ale.”
He led them to the end of the wharf, through the gate guarded by four armed men in smart scarlet livery, across a road busy with carts and barrows, and up a steep and narrow cobbled street that wound uphill away from the harbour. They turned a corner and came into a small square with a bench and horse trough in the centre. To their left was a long low building with a ship’s anchor hanging beside the door, the white-washed walls bright in the sunshine.
“Just as well you brought us here,” said Maldwyn. “We’d never have found it on our own.”
The captain pushed open the door and called out. “Barty.”
“Who’s that?” A voice called from the interior. “I’ll have no pirates in my tavern.”
A short rotund man with a bushy grey beard beneath a ruddy round face stepped out into the square. “Gelem! Haven’t they hanged you yet?” He threw his arms around the captain and embraced him.
“Who are these fellows then?” Barty said, releasing the captain. “People you owe money to?”
“I owe them more than money,” said the captain. “I owe them The Cuttlefish and probably my life. We were ambushed by corsairs down the coast and they saved us all.”
“Sounds like you’d better come in an’ tell me all about it. I’ve a new cask of ale ready for tapping.”
“That’s what I was hoping to hear,” said the captain. “These lads need lodgings for a while. You got space for ‘em?”
“Reckon I can fit ‘em in. How many rooms do you want?
“Two if you have them,” said Aron.
“Bridie!” Barty called into the interior. “We’ve got lodgers. Get the top rooms ready.” He turned back to them. “The rooms’ll be ready soon. They just need a bit of air. Come on in. Anyone who saves my old ship is welcome here.”
They went inside into the taproom and sat around a wooden table shining with new polish. Barty filled eight earthenware tankards, each painted with an anchor, from a kilderkin chocked up behind the counter. Edith looked warily at Aron as Barty handed them around.
“You’re a soldier now,” said Aron. “Drink up.”
***
“I think we should explore the city while there’s light,” said Aron. “If Edith is going to walk the mist tonight to find Celaine, then she’ll need to be able to recognise some landmarks.”
They had taken their packs up to their rooms below the eaves, leaving the captain and Barty in the taproom clearly intent on a long session.
Maldwyn stood up from the bed and picked up his sheathed sword.
“Hold on,” said Aron. “I don’t know if we can go armed. Some cities have laws against it. We wouldn’t want to get it wrong. I’ll ask.”
He hurried down the steep stairs and was back moments later. “No rules about swords or bows. But don’t tangle with the City Guard.”
“There’s a City Guard? But this is Keshan,” said Maldwyn. “The most dangerous city in the High Kingdom.”
“All is not what is seems,” said Aron. “But it would be no harm to keep thinking that way.” He checked the concealed knives he always carried. “Let’s go.”
They left the tavern, walked down the hill back to the harbour and followed the main road into the centre of the city. Near the harbour stores and warehouses stood on either side of the street, still busy with trade. Further along, what Aron took to be private houses, lay behind high walls and heavy wooden gates. They passed three pairs of the scarlet-liveried guardsmen in about four hundred paces as well as groups of soldiers in half a dozen other liveries.
“I wonder what the set-up is here,” said Aron. “Who pays the guards?”
The street led them to a marketplace where most of the stallholders were packing up. Aron’s mouth watered at the smell from a hot pie stall that was still doing good business.
They walked across the marketplace to the temple of Martis where a statue of the soldier god in full armour guarded the entrance. Maldwyn paused and saluted the god as they passed by on the wide paved road that led towards the old Duke’s fortress. Beyond the temple were more high-walled compounds and large houses, some with liveried guards at their gates.
“Stand clear,” a harsh voice yelled and they had to jump to avoid a closed carriage as it clattered briskly past. An unladen flatbed cart followed close behind with two red-liveried soldiers on the driving bench. Aron stared at them as they went by.
“Follow that cart,” he said. They hurried after it as it turned off into a cross street.
“Why?” asked Maldwyn.
“The men driving are wearing Caldon’s livery,” said Aron. “I’d recognise it anywhere. I always like to know what Caldon’s up to.”
They tailed the cart into a district filled with forges and workshops, the traffic in the streets heavy enough that they could follow it at their leisure. The cart halted outside a long low workshop that belched smoke from three chimneys along its shingled roof; inside hammers rang on metal. The soldiers stepped down and went in. Aron halted outside a neighbouring workshop and started to examine their display of swords and daggers, keeping half an eye over his shoulder on the cart.
“Should I get a sword?” said Edith. “Would they have one light enough?”
Aron looked at the swords in their display rack; they were well-crafted soldiers’ weapons not ornate display pieces. “I don’t think it’s a good idea now. It would take too long to teach you enough that you would stand a chance in a fight.”
“A good sword is expensive too,” said Maldwyn.
Edith pouted a bit and Aron could see the disappointment in her eyes. “I will teach you when we’ve time,” he said. “But for now stick to your bow, you’re good with that.”
Caldon’s men emerged from the workshop followed by two men clad in leather aprons, carrying a wooden chest by its rope handles. They lifted the chest onto the back of the wagon and went back inside while the soldiers pushed it to the front of the flatbed. The aproned men returned each rolling a wooden barrel. They lifted these up onto the cart alongside the chest and one of the aproned men handed a rolled–up scroll to the soldiers.
“Looks like they’re finished here,” said Maldwyn.
“What would they have in the barrels?” asked Edith.
“Probably arrows,” said Aron.
The soldiers mounted up and got the horses moving.
“We’ll follow,” said Aron.
There was still enough traffic in the streets to slow the cart to a comfortable walking pace. The soldiers gossiped, whistled at the passing women and never once looked behind them.
It seemed to Aron that they had walked halfway across the city before the cart turned into a covered gateway in a high brick wall. Two sentries also in Caldon livery exchanged words with the soldiers and then opened the heavy wooden gates. Through the gateway Aron glimpsed a paved courtyard and beyond it, a large building with many windows.
The cart passed through and the sentries closed the gates behind it. One of the sentries looked up and down the street and caught Aron’s gaze. Aron held his eyes for a moment, then turned away and resumed walking.
They walked to the next cross street, passing no more gates. Hidden behind its wall, it was difficult to tell where the Caldon compound finished, but it was clear that it was large. Caldon never does anything on a small scale, thought Aron.
“I think it’s time to head back,” said Aron. “I hope Barty’s cooking matches his ale.”
The sun was sinking in orange flames to the horizon across the harbour by the time they reached the tavern. The captain was still sitting in the taproom, his face flushed red, talking to Barty.
“Had you a good walk, lads?” he asked.
“Are ye looking for a hire, lads?” asked Barty. “Now’s a real good time. The Duke of Caldon’s taking every man that can hold a sword.”
“Where are they going?” said Aron.
“Up north,” said Barty. “He’s invaded the barbarian lands, and now he’s trying to hold them against the tribes and having a hard time.”
“Are they paying well?” said Aron. “I saw men in Caldon livery.”
“Oh yes,” said Barty. “Caldon’s spending a lot of money in Keshan. He’s got a big place at the top end of the city. Just about every company has men hired to him. He’s buying everything for his army here and shipping it up the coast. Even built a port up there.”
“Must be costing him a fortune,” said Aron.
“He can afford it,” said the captain. “Every ship that comes down brings silver from the mines up there.”
“Is that the only work in town?” asked Aron.
“It’s the best paying,” said Barty.
“We’ll think about it,” said Aron. “Over supper.”
***
Aron gathered up the remains of the supper and left them outside the door. The main course of baked fish had been delicious to his taste, though Edith had taken a lot of persuading to try it. She had, however, finished it despite her initial reluctance. Maldwyn had not touched his and Aron was happy enough to eat it rather than see it go to waste. Maldwyn had already gone downstairs in search of more ale. So far in their journey Edith had avoided being alone with him, though she had been civil enough in conversation, and Aron had not sought her out. This was the first time they had been alone together.
Aron picked up the jug containing the mushroom broth.
“It’s cool enough to drink now,” he said.
“But it’s still early, Celaine might not be asleep yet,” said Edith. “And I want to talk to you before I take it.”
Aron caught the serious tone in her voice and put the jug aside and sat down on a stool facing her wondering what was coming.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I want to know what you intend to do when this is over,” she said, looking in the eye. “Are you staying in Nandor?”
“Would I be welcome?”
“Maldwyn and mother would welcome you in a moment.”
“And you?”
She did not answer immediately and looked at the floor. Aron felt a cold spasm of fear in his gut and he dreaded what she might say next.
“I would not want to come if it would bring you pain,” he said.
“Nandor needs you,” she said softly, still not looking at him. “Maldwyn needs you.”
“And you?” Probably it would have been better not to ask, but he desperately needed to know.
“I don’t know.”
“Could you ever trust me again?”
Again she did not answer immediately and Aron’s stomach tightened further.
“Perhaps.”
The knot in his stomach unwound somewhat. “Then I will come to Nandor.”
“Perhaps I should drink the potion now,” Edith whispered.
Aron picked up the jug and poured the brew into a mug.
“Doesn’t smell any better,” said Edith as she took it from him.
“I can get you a mug of ale.”
“That tastes almost as bad.” Edith made a face at him. “Just stay here with me. It’ll help me find my way back.”
She took a deep breath and drained the mug. Aron was filled with admiration as she handed it back to him with only the merest trace of a grimace.
“Now hold my hand,” she said.
/> She arranged the pillows beneath her. Aron sat on a stool beside the bed and took her hand in his. She lay back and closed her eyes.
Aron watched as she settled, tracing the contours of her face with his eyes. Her breathing gave no clue as to when she entered the mist, but a frown marred her lovely features after a while.
I wonder where Celaine is. Iduna help us and watch over her. I just pray that she isn’t here yet. Even as he articulated the thought he knew it was forlorn. What are we going to do if she is beyond our reach? How can I go back to Nandor without out her? The very thought sickened him. And what state will she be in even if we do find her? He thought of those exiles who had been ill-used by Caldon’s troops; some had shrugged off the experience, yet others had been so deeply affected they had become like the walking dead.
Edith groaned and gripped his hand tightly. What has she found? Should I have gone with her? But that was to chance meeting Iduna again and this time, perhaps, she would not let him go. He remembered the words of her priestess Araiminta. She is fickle and jealous if crossed. You would not wish to carry her anger. Her anger had certainly fallen heavily on Lord Tirellan. Too great a risk. I should see if there is a temple here and pay it a visit tomorrow. Being beloved of Iduna should be good for some assistance, and we need all the help we can find in this.
Edith stirred and gripped his hand again. Aron was tempted to reach over and stroke her brow, smoothing the frown lines. She craved adventure and now she has it. She’s done well so far, very well. She handled herself like a veteran when the pirates attacked, but I hope that’s the last bloodletting she has to do. I wouldn’t want my wife to be too easy with killing. The sudden thought shocked him. Finally he had put a voice to the feeling that had been growing since he had begun the journey back to Nandor. My wife. That is what it will have to be if I regain her trust and go back to Nandor. But what will Maldwyn say? He had no doubt of Maldwyn’s friendship, but the situation was more complex. Even if they found Celaine, the prospects of making a good marriage for her would be poor. If Maldwyn wished to strengthen Nandor by making alliances, as he should, then Edith’s marriage would be the key. That was the way of it; daughters of noble houses rarely got to follow their heart in their choice of husband. They married whoever their father or brother directed. As blademaster of Nandor, and advisor to the Earl, that is what I would tell Maldwyn he should do.