Passages

by Olan Thorensen

  Gulgit turned to his companion and said something in a new language for Mark. However, he thought he caught the word Rustal. Whatever the companion said, the man named Gulgit calmed down and turned again to the Rumpasians.

  “Is there any chance you could find more muskets if we delay sailing for Rustal?”

  “I might find another fifty to a hundred if you can wait three sixdays, though I can’t guarantee it.”

  Mark assumed the words from Gulgit’s mouth were curses. After another side conversation, Gulgit said, “No, we need to return. When do you think you might have another shipment ready?”

  “At least three months, and better make it four so you or whoever comes doesn’t have to wait if it takes longer. I warned you, the authorities are getting political pressure from the Narthani to stop such smuggling. It’s getting harder to put together big shipments. I’ll be honest and say that one more shipment may be all I can do this year.”

  The men continued talking, but Mark listened with only one ear.

  Arms smuggling? The muskets are certainly not meant for the Narthani who control Rustal. I hear it hasn’t turned out to be a useful conquest.

  That the men spoke so publicly surprised him. Weren’t they worried the referenced authorities would get word of the transaction? Maybe anything heard in a tavern was ignored. And maybe I didn’t understand as much as I thought I did, Mark conceded.

  The meeting ended when the two Rumpasians walked away. The two suspected Rustalians shifted in their chairs as they prepared to stand. Mark stopped pretending to be focused elsewhere and moved quickly to sit at their table.

  “You have a ship that is about to sail for Rustal?” asked Mark in Suvalu.

  Both men froze. The one who hadn’t spoken moved a hand inside his coat.

  Probably got a pistol or knife there, thought Mark.

  “Listening when you shouldn’t can get a man killed,” said the man called Gulgit.

  Mark ignored the threat and plunged ahead. “I need passage to Rustal for my family—two adults and a small child. I can pay well.”

  Gulgit’s companion pushed aside his coat flap enough to show a pistol in his belt. “We’re leaving, and don’t follow us.”

  Mark’s left hand darted across the table and gripped the wrist of the hand that went for the pistol. The man tried to pull away, but Mark didn’t budge an inch, holding the man in place.

  “I’m not looking for trouble, and I don’t care anything about your business. I just need to get to Rustal. Name your price.”

  Gulgit raised a hand but not his voice. “Calm, calm, both of you.” He looked around. “Are you alone?”

  Mark nodded.

  “Where are you from? Your Suvalu accent doesn’t sound Rumpasian.”

  “Frangel.”

  Gulgit’s eyebrows raised, and the other man quit trying to pull away.

  “Frangel?” said Gulgit. “What’s someone from Frangel doing all the way over here and wanting to sail from this shitty little port to Rustal? Nobody wants to go to Rustal unless there’s a good reason—not since the Narthani invaded.”

  “It’s personal business. All you have to know is I need passage for myself, my wife, and our child.”

  “As a gesture of good will, why don’t you release my friend here?”

  “I will, but your friend needs to be extremely careful after I do,” said Mark. A tone of palpable menace emphasized his warning. He released the hand, and the man lurched back in his chair. Gulgit raised an arm across the man’s chest.

  “Relax, Abdyl. Our new friend here is interesting.” He turned to Mark.

  “Look at this from our point of view. We don’t know you, so there’s no reason to trust you. If your problem requires you to leave Drilmar, that’s not our problem. I’ll admit enough coin could change my mind, but I doubt you have that much.

  “Then I wonder if you realize the danger you would be putting your family in. The Narthani run regular patrols along the Rustal coast. Our ship is good, but if we’re stopped, we may have to fight it out. That’s assuming it’s a cutter that stops us. If it’s a sloop, they could just stand off and blow us out of the water.”

  “It’s a risk we’re willing to take,” said Mark. “If it does come to a fight, I’ll be an asset. Not against cannon, of course, but I’ve got specially made muskets that can hit targets up to six hundred yards or more away. I assume a cannon exchange would be at about a hundred yards or less. I can discourage a smaller ship’s crew from coming too close.”

  “Do you think we’re fools?” said Abdyl. “Nobody can hit a target with a musket at six hundred yards.”

  “I didn’t speak correctly,” said Mark. “It’s a ninety-caliber rifle with shot hand-made by me. I assure you I can discourage anyone from coming too close if they don’t have sufficient protection.”

  Gulgit’s expression showed both skepticism and curiosity. “If such a rifle exists, what would you use it for, except something heinous such as killing men from a great distance?”

  “I have two of the rifles I’ve used in destrex hunting. I needed something that powerful and with that range if I was to hunt them alone.”

  “Holy Spirits! You didn’t really hunt those nightmares alone!”

  Mark just nodded.

  Gulgit prided himself on his ability to judge the true nature of a man, though he had never had the audacity to say the same about any woman. He studied Mark’s face closely for any sign of dissembling—and saw none.

  “Assuming for the moment you’re telling the truth, it still doesn’t explain why you need to get to Rustal. One obvious possibility is that somehow you work with or for the Narthani. Maybe you’re trying to learn about the resistance, and yes, there’s no reason to deny who we are because why else would we be interested in shipping weapons to Rustal? The Narthani have plenty of their own.

  “Speaking of which,” said Gulgit, turning to Abdyl, “go finish getting the cargo to the ship. I’ll stay to talk with our new friend.”

  The man nodded, gave Mark a dark look, and left the tavern.

  The Rustalian leader turned back to Mark. “Now, you’ll need to say more before I talk to the ship’s captain and convince him to take you.”

  The Rustalian’s stance put Mark in a quandary: Say nothing and miss the ship; then who knows when he would get another opportunity? Or say more and take the risk of being turned over to the Narthani.

  He didn’t like either choice. Staying in a port city, even a minor one such as Heliom, was dangerous. If the Narthani had spread word of his family’s descriptions widely, it was only a matter of time before someone recognized them. However, if they could reach Ganolar and somehow pass safely to Sulako, their chances of being recognized would go down.

  As for the danger of traveling to Narthani-controlled Rustal, Mark thought this might be the one possible location the Narthani would never believe the Kaldwels would chance. There might not even be alerts to watch for them in Rustal. Of course, if they were questioned, they needed a plausible story for why they came to Ganolar. They couldn’t hide their Frangel origin, so the weak story Mark had come up with so far involved a vendetta among criminal gangs in Brawsea. Not that they personally were involved in crimes, but the vendetta had transferred to all members of their family.

  However, he couldn’t think of why Gulgit and his companions were smuggling arms into Rustal, other than reasons the Narthani wouldn’t like. His hunch was that he could be relatively honest with the Rustalian. If it were only himself, he would be less hesitant, but he decided the risk was necessary.

  “We left Frangel because the Narthani are looking for me. Why, I don’t know, but I killed several of their paid agents, and they chased after us. I think I lost them after Novaryn, but I can’t be sure. We need to go where the Narthani can’t reach us. I figure the farther west, the better.”

  “You must have some idea why they’re after you,” said Gulgit. “The Narthani don’t do anything without a reason.”


  “Whatever the reason, one of their agents I questioned only knew the Narthani wanted me found and probably would take me to Narthon. I don’t know what would happen then or why they want me so bad. I couldn’t risk disappearing into Narthon and never seeing my family again.”

  Gulgit obviously wasn’t convinced and stared back impassively.

  He’s waiting for more, Mark thought. I need to tell him something else he’ll believe.

  “Well, there was the little matter of my killing a Narthani official in Brawsea. I was developing new looms, and the Narthani wanted to buy the plans without sharing with the Frangelese. My understanding was, they wanted to harm the markets in eastern Anyar by damaging the textile industries. By the time they realized I wouldn’t sell, they probably thought I knew too much about their plans. One of the men who was sent to kill me said my wife and child would also be killed. I didn’t see any choice but to flee.”

  Mark figured there were enough true elements that Gulgit would accept the false parts—he hoped.

  “And you think Narthani-controlled Rustal is a safe place?” Gulgit asked sardonically.

  Mark smiled. “If you were the Narthani, would you think to look for me in Rustal?”

  Gulgit grunted. “Probably not, but it would take balls of steel to do it. Although if you really did hunt destrex alone, I suppose hiding in Rustal is not improbable.”

  “Not hiding. Passing through.”

  “It might not be that easy,” said Gulgit. “Where we’re going, there won’t be many Suvalu speakers and possibly none once you’re away from the coast. There’s not much need for a trade language mainly used in eastern Anyar. And what about your destination past Rustal. Sulako? Landolin? The Iraquiniks? Where do you want to end up?”

  “I’ll worry about that later. Right now I need to get to Rustal.”

  Gulgit smiled. “I admit I’m intrigued by you, but the Dancer is not my ship, so you’ll need to convince Captain Partinel. However, I warn you he won’t be interested in anything except coin.”

  “I can pay our way,” Mark assured him.

  “Don’t be so sure because you don’t know how much coin he’ll want. Anyway, if you want to talk with him, we should gather your family and baggage and go the harbor.”

  “We?” asked Mark.

  “Whatever happens, I can’t let you out of my sight before we sail. Just in case. You understand.”

  Gulgit made a motion with his left hand, and two men dressed similarly to the Rustalian appeared from among the tavern’s customers milling about. Both were rough-looking, though not as big as Mark.

  I was careless, thought Mark, and didn’t consider that there might be more than two men.

  “If you want to try to convince the captain,” said Gulgit, “my friends and I will help you take your things to the ship. If the captain turns you down, you’ll stay with us until we sail, and then you’re free.”

  Mark hadn’t figured on the Rustalian’s cautionary measures, but he wasn’t surprised. Three against one weren’t good odds, though he thought it would be a near thing for him to handle all three. He also wasn’t pleased with putting Maghen and Alys in danger, though he grudgingly admitted it probably was no worse than what they had already experienced and might well experience in the future before they got to Caedellium—if they got there.

  Mark’s hesitation didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Or you could go straight to the ship, and if passage is agreed to, my friends could go and help your family get to the harbor.”

  “Not a good idea because I told my wife to shoot anyone other than me trying to enter our room. We’ll go there first, so I can talk to her.”

  Mark and Gulgit walked side by side to the inn four blocks away. The smuggler’s two associates followed a step behind. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at the four men but didn’t comment.

  They stopped in the hallway.

  “I’ll go in and tell her the plan and ease any worries. It should only take a few minutes. We have a few bags here. The rest is at the stable behind the inn. I’ll sell our horses before we go.”

  Inside the room, Maghen’s eyes widened when Mark rapped on the door and announced there were three men with him. Gulgit chuckled when she opened the door with a pistol in one hand and a second tucked under her arm. She quickly transferred the second pistol to her other hand.

  “Does this mean you think you’ve found a ship?” she asked after closing the door, leaving the three strange men in the hall.

  “Possibly, if I can convince the captain to take us. These men are using the ship to smuggle arms into Rustal. I don’t know if they’re part of a continuing fight against the Narthani or are simply arms tradesmen. Either way, it’s the only possibility I could find. They plan on staying close to us until they leave, now that I know what they’re doing. I realize we already paid for the room, but we can’t let this chance get away. Let’s gather up everything. The men outside will accompany us to the ship. Just in case, keep your pistols handy, along with the knife tied to your leg.”

  When Mark opened the door, Gulgit was talking with one man. Gulgit anticipated Mark’s question.

  “I sent the other man to fetch a cart. It’ll make it easier for you to get to the ship. If the captain refuses you, after we leave you can use the cart to come back here or go somewhere else.”

  Mark carried two bags, Maghen had Alys, and the other two men lugged one bag each outside. There, what looked like a large rickshaw awaited them. It held all their belongings, the heaviest of which were the two wrapped doomsters, shotguns, powder, and shot. Mark deliberately unwrapped the rifles to confirm his story to Gulgit. When added to the obvious weapons carried by Mark and Maghen, Gulgit commented, “Maybe I should hire the two of you to protect our shipment. Now I’m really beginning to believe you came all the way from Frangel and used to hunt destrex by yourself.”

  Mark suppressed a smile. “You’ll need to wait for me to see if the innkeeper will buy our horses.”

  “You’re leaving already? You just paid me for the night a couple of hours ago.”

  “Yes, but plans change. We may be leaving Heliom sooner than expected. Since we’ve paid for the room, hold it tonight, in case we come back. Either way, we need to sell our horses. Would you be interested in buying them or do you know someone who might?”

  “Hmmm . . . I’ll have to look at them.”

  After a close inspection, the innkeeper paid Mark what he figured was likely half the animals’ value. All their other possessions were on the cart where and Maghen, Alys, and the Rumpasian men waited. Minutes later, they reached the harbor. Gulgit’s ship was moored to one of the smaller piers at the north end of the docks. Mark was dismayed at the small size of the ship.

  “Are you sure this thing can sail across open waters? I’ve heard the Throat is known for treacherous seas, and I assume the passage to Rustal will be similar.”

  “The conditions at sea are seasonal. We aren’t quite into the rougher season, which is one reason I was so incensed at the men at the tavern. We won’t be able to make another trip for three to four months, at least not in a caraculon,” Gulgit said, motioning to the two-masted, low-slung ship.

  “However, don’t let what you see above the water line fool you. This caraculon is specially made to appear more like a coastal vessel, rather than a ship for deep water. The keel is deeper than a common caraculon, and the ribbing and hull are reinforced. A word of warning—don’t say anything that Captain Partinel considers an insult to the ship. I think he loves it more than he does his wife and children.”

  Twelve hours later, Mark stood on the Dancer’s aft rail and watched the Heliom harbor disappear below the horizon. Maghen stood silent by his side, Alys asleep on her shoulder. He had been primed to argue that his presence on the ship would be useful, in case they had to fight through Narthani patrols off the Rustal coast. He never got to use his arguments. Gulgit had spoken with Captain Partinel in a language Mark didn’t recognize. The captain’s f
irst response had been harsh, whatever the words were. Mark assumed he had rejected taking on any more passengers. Gulgit replied to the captain, and a back and forth continued for several minutes. Finally, Gulgit turned to Mark.

  “I assume you can tell the captain was not inclined to take you on. The best I could do is get him to agree if you paid his price, which unfortunately is quite high.”

  “How high?”

  Gulgit relayed the fare the captain demanded.

  “Shit!” Mark responded to Gulgit’s answer. They could just barely cover the amount with all their remaining coin, but it would leave them with little for food and shelter once they reached Rustal. He translated for Maghen. Her response was pragmatic.

  “What choice do we have, Mark? We can’t go back to Frangel, and we probably need to be off Drilmar entirely. We’ll get to Rustal and will just have to find work until we can save enough to keep going farther, even if that takes months.”

  Now, as he watched the wake of the Dancer, he tried to put aside worries he had no control over. The decision had been made. He had to look forward to whatever was next. He squeezed Maghen’s shoulder and nodded to midship. They wove their way around gear and the crew to a forward hatch, climbed down a narrow ladder to a hallway just wide enough for him to pass through, and went into their cabin.

  To call their berth a cabin was a misnomer because it would have been considered a closet in many houses Mark had lived in. Three hammocks crisscrossed at different heights from the walls, with their baggage covering most of the floor and piled along two walls. A bucket was provided for urinating and defecating—to be emptied over the side, as Gulgit explained.

  Hanging from hooks on the ceiling were bags of food. The captain had been displeased when Mark met his price but had begrudgingly kept the deal—he had assumed the price would be too high. Once assured they had passage, Maghen, accompanied by Gulgit, had used most of their remaining coin to buy food that would keep for the three to four sixdays the voyage was predicted to take. Then, after they arrived in Rustal, they would have to scramble to find work that didn’t require speaking Rustalian.