An aven later, the tide was out, the rocks Marrin had seen were above the surface and the narrow passage between them and the island was looking a hair’s-breadth too thin for the brig-sloop. Once off the sandbar, Captain Ford would have only one chance to thread the needle.
Brexan watched as Garec and Marrin rowed the ship’s launch into deeper water, looking comically like a crew in search of a ship as they sat on either side of the Morning Star’s anchor. The great metal claw had been lowered gingerly from the cathead and now rested against the bench. It dragged a length of hawser from the capstan to the channel between the island and the rock formation. ‘I wonder why he doesn’t wait for the tide to come back in,’ Brexan mused.
Gilmour pointed towards the shore; though there was not a building to be seen, it was still risky being within hailing distance of Malakasia, especially while immobile. ‘I don’t think Captain Ford likes having his ship stuck in the mud, Brexan,’ he said, ‘and I don’t know if he needs more water than we have now to work his way through that little passage.’
‘It does look skinny, doesn’t it?’
‘I believe that’s why Garec and Marrin are out there.’
Brexan and Gilmour were been whispering. It seemed an appropriate morning for whispering. Both jumped when Marrin, almost out of sight in the grey fog, called in for instructions.
‘Captain,’ Marrin said, surprisingly loud, ‘there’s plenty of draft, but I’m worried about whether she’ll fit.’
‘She’ll fit.’ Ford’s voice was low but resonant; Brexan wondered how far it would carry in the fog. She was reminded of the bells she had heard from the porch at the Topgallant Inn and flashed back to Jacrys Marseth, dipped in blood, trailing blood, but still ringing that whoring bell.
‘We’ll row through,’ Marrin called back. ‘We have enough line, and if I can find a decent handful of rocks on the other side, we’ll pull her through with the capstan.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Captain Ford said dryly.
‘You are the commanding officer, after all,’ Marrin teased from inside the burgeoning fogbank.
‘Ha!’ Ford said, ‘and generally the last one to give the orders around here.’
‘Yes sir!’ Marrin, now completely lost from view, shouted. ‘You just keep the old girl on a strict diet while the Ronan killer and I snake through this little stream you’ve discovered.’
‘Good enough,’ Ford said. ‘We are thinking thin thoughts.’
‘Captain Ford?’ Garec called, ‘once we get the anchor set, I can drown him if you like.’
‘Nothing would please me more,’ Ford replied with a laugh.
To Brexan his good humour seemed forced, another mask he fashioned while above decks to keep his crew in good spirits. He, like the rest of them, was mourning the loss of three crew to the shapeshifting tan-bak. Losing Kanthil, Sera – had it eaten her? Or just cast her over the side? – and finding what was left of Tubbs had caused something inside the captain to come loose. Now sneaking along the coast like this, dousing the lanterns and running the blockade all smacked of retribution, something owed to the crew. While giving Tubbs his rites, Captain Ford told Brexan his crew believed in him because they knew that he was a man motivated by just two things: paying them well and seeing them safely home. This voyage had violated an edict he and his crew – his family – had agreed upon Twinmoons earlier. It was the reason so many of them shipped with him season after season: they do it together, and they go home together. Chasing a pocketful of easy silver, Ford had gone against his own core values – and he had lost friends as a result.
Reaching Pellia now, even if he had to get out and push the old ship through the shallows, was the only way he could earn himself a measure of redemption.
‘Got it,’ Marrin shouted.
‘What’s he done?’ Brexan asked.
‘He’s found a place where he and Garec can lodge that anchor. With that done, and the rest of us manning the capstan like all the gods of the Northern Forest are whipping our backsides, hopefully, the ship will pull itself right through.’
‘Kedging off?’
‘Kedging off.’
‘That seems pretty risky in a ship this size,’ Brexan said.
‘Again, my dear, I leave that to Captain Ford; he seems capable.’
‘Yes, he does,’ Brexan mused, watching Ford lean over the rail, straining to see through the fog. She imagined that Versen might have grown to look and act similarly one day. Brexan couldn’t allow herself to get personally involved with Doren Ford. Regardless of how obvious it had become that he might welcome a relationship, however ephemeral, she fought the urge to cross the deck and wrap her arms around him, to feel his muscled body against hers. Becoming intimate with him would be too much like making love with a shadowy, older version of Versen. It wouldn’t be fair to the captain to use him to recapture what she had lost.
After a moment, Captain Ford called, ‘Come back and wait near those rocks. If anything is going to get us, it’ll be that bunch, and we can’t see them as clearly as we could half an aven ago.’
‘Blame Garec,’ Marrin replied, ‘he rows too bloody slow.’
‘It wasn’t my idea to row over here with an anchor in the boat!’ Garec said. ‘I’m not much of a sailor, but I’ve been around the water enough to know that anchors are supposed to go outside the boat.’
‘That’s a good tip,’ he called back. ‘Now shut yourselves up and hustle back to those rocks. I want to be out of here and on our way as soon as possible.’
‘Ah, Captain?’ Marrin’s voice was ethereal through the fog; it came from everywhere at once.
Ford shook his head. ‘What now, Marrin?’
‘Have you noticed the fog, sir?’
‘Three hundred Twinmoons I’ve been at sea, Marrin. Of course I’ve noticed the rutting fog!’
‘Well, sir, how are you planning on getting underway in this fog? There’s rocks and shoals and mud and shit out here, not to mention the islands. There’s hundreds of those lying about. We’re bound to run into something. Not that this morning was your fault, but sir, there’s a lot out here to hit; this place needs a clean-up, and I mean in a raging hurry.’
‘We’ll be fine making way through the fog,’ he said.
‘Again, begging your pardon, sir, but how?’
‘You and Garec are going to guide us,’ he said calmly.
Neither answered, but from their silence it was apparent that they weren’t looking forward to spending the day rowing blind, especially with the Morning Star in tow.
Kellin and Steven emerged from below and joined Captain Ford at the rail, looking for Garec.
‘Can you see them?’ Kellin asked.
‘Not right now,’ he answered, ‘but if you follow that length of anchor line into the fog, you can get a fix on them. They’re out behind those rocks.’
‘Is this dangerous?’
He shook his head. ‘Not much. We won’t get far, but the bit we navigate before high tide will be slow enough that if we should run aground again, it won’t be too bad.’
‘We won’t sink?’
The captain laughed. ‘There’s no place to sink, Kellin. On tip-toe you could just about walk to Pellia from here. I thank the gods that you all drink so much. If we had even an extra few crates of beer on board, we’d have to toss them over the side for fear of being too heavy.’
Kellin smiled in return. ‘That would be a tragic waste.’
‘Anyway, once we get a bit of water coming north again, we’ll be able to make better time, but for now, this journey is going to get a touch tedious.’ Garec and Marrin appeared through the gloom. ‘Ah, there they are,’ the captain said, then hailing them, called, ‘There’s fine. We’ll heave her off. Marrin, watch that line. Shout for your mother if it breaks off or pulls free. I don’t want us floating around up here.’
‘Very good, sir. I’m sure my mother will be happy to help.’
Kellin laughed, then waved to Garec. ‘Good
morning.’
‘Well, hello.’ Garec blew her a kiss. ‘What’s a nice Falkan girl like you doing in a shithole like this?’
Kellin said, ‘I understand it’s an excellent place to meet eligible young men.’
Marrin interrupted, ‘So they told you I was here? Stand fast, my dear: as soon as I’m through rescuing Captain Ford’s broken-down old barge I’ll be back to sweep you thoroughly off your feet.’
Captain Ford said, ‘Garec …’
‘Now’s fine with me, sir,’ Garec shouted back.
‘Go right ahead – but one thing: you realise with him gone, you’ll become my first mate.’ He winced, regretting the joke the moment the words left his mouth. No one said anything. Tubbs and Sera’s loss was still too close, too raw for this degree of levity. The time for joking had passed, at least for now. After a moment, he announced, ‘To the capstan; let’s get her out of here.’
Everyone moved at once, happy to have something to do. Brexan joined Ford at the rail. ‘Captain,’ she started, ‘I want to—’
‘No,’ he cut her off, ‘please, just help me at the capstan. We’ll be through this channel in a moment. It’s going to be a long day.’
‘Of course,’ she said. As she helped to take up the slack in the anchor-line, Brexan was able to see the way the capstan worked. With six wooden levers rigged at right angles from one another, they all pushed and rotated the great spindle, reeling in the hawser Garec and Marrin had dragged through the channel. Once taut, the capstan fought back, grinding to a halt as the full weight of the Morning Star came to bear on the anchor line.
‘Great rutters,’ Kellin said, ‘but this ship didn’t look that heavy!’
‘With your nose buried in the mud, you’d be hard to extract as well,’ Captain Ford said. ‘Keep at it, though. She’ll come loose.’ He grunted encouragement.
‘Use your legs,’ Gilmour instructed, straining as well. ‘Get your backs into it.’
The company pushed and heaved, pressing against the unwieldy capstan with all their might. Even wiry young Pel hurried from the quarterdeck to help break the muddy seal.
‘I want you at the helm, Pel,’ the captain ordered, his face flushed and sweaty.
‘I’m doing no good there, Captain,’ Pel said. It was about the only thing Brexan had heard him say since their departure from Orindale. The quiet young man, when not swabbing the brig-sloop from bow to stern, was generally to be found in the rigging, checking cleats, mending frayed ratlines and keeping a wary eye out for the navy. The last encounter had scared him to within a few breaths of the Northern Forest, and simply watching Steven pith the tan-bak had started the Pragan seaman quaking all over again. Talking only to the captain, and keeping his head down, the shy youngster said, ‘I’ll be back as soon as we get her loose, but let me help.’
The anchor line was taut, as tight as the small group of determined travellers could manage. Brexan waited for something to snap, or for the anchor to pull free from its place in the rocks behind the fog. With only wood, hemp and muscle in the equation, something had to give; the strain was too great.
Finally, groaning in protest, the Morning Star moved, just a slight shift to starboard at first. Brexan felt the capstan spin, taking in a bit of line as the deck righted itself.
‘One more like that should do it,’ the captain encouraged. ‘Pel, get back to the helm, now.’
As quickly as he had arrived, the youngster was gone.
Captain Ford called after him, ‘Bring the keel to starboard, just enough to get our backside clear, but as soon as she breaks off, get her back to port. I don’t want us off the mud and onto those rocks, understand?’
‘Aye aye, Captain,’ Pel shouted over his shoulder.
‘Marrin!’ he cried.
‘Captain?’ The reply came from somewhere over the side.
‘Get ready!’ On his mark, everyone redoubled their efforts. ‘Here we come!’
With that, the hull slipped free, the capstan spun easily, unexpectedly, and both Steven and Kellin fell to their knees, cursing.
The captain was gone, calling, ‘Keep taking up the slack, not too fast now, just keep it coming in steady. Then pawl that and wait for me amidships.’ From the rail, he checked their heading, then ordered, ‘Pel, back to port now, back to port.’
The Morning Star bobbed in the channel, turning to take in her anchor line and waiting for a northerly breeze. With another half-aven of slack water, they would have ample time to get through the narrow passage and reset the anchor before another sudden gust threatened to leave them in the mud or push them onto the rocks.
Taking the helm, Captain Ford watched as his crew of seamen and partisans reeled in the anchor line, then guided the brig-sloop carefully through the channel, beyond the island and into deeper, if still fogbound, water.
When the Morning Star passed the rocks, Marrin called, ‘I didn’t think you could do it, Captain, but she’s clear.’
Smiling, he said, ‘I told you we were thinking thin thoughts!’
Steven said, ‘That’s more work than I expected to do today.’
‘You and me both, cousin,’ Gilmour agreed, ‘but I don’t think we’re finished yet.’
‘Grand.’ Kellin wiped her forehead on her tunic sleeve. ‘Don’t you two know anything that might help us speed this process up a bit?’
‘Nothing we can risk right now,’ Steven said. ‘With any luck, Mark is honed in on the magic keeping that… whatever it was—’
‘Tan-bak,’ Gilmour supplied.
‘Keeping that tan-bak alive out there somewhere. We’re in enough danger simply from the fact that he might stumble across the mystical energy coming from the far portal and the spell book down in the cabin.’
Brexan said, ‘I thought that with Carpello’s shipments running north, Mark wouldn’t notice the difference between a ship loaded with that Ronan tree bark and one with your Larion toys.’
‘We have to hope not,’ Gilmour said, ‘but judging from our trip thus far, we haven’t been very lucky at keeping ourselves invisible. I made a mistake the day we encountered that naval cruiser. I don’t know if that’s why Mark sent the tan-bak, but I’m unwilling to risk using magic again until we are closer to Pellia. Once there, I’m betting we can use a bit of sorcery and Mark won’t be any wiser.’
‘Because it will … what? Mix with the other magic already in Pellia?’
‘Correct,’ Gilmour said, ‘if even one of those shipments is moored in the harbour – and with the tides and the traffic in the Northeast Channel, we have to hope that at least one of them was delayed – my magic shouldn’t make much noise at all.’
‘But he detected enough powerful magic to decide to destroy that other ship and then send the tan-bak for us,’ Brexan said hesitantly. ‘Won’t he do that again?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Gilmour replied. ‘When the Malakasian sorcerer was having at us from his ship, his spells were noisy, like pebbles dropped into a dead-calm mill pond. When I cast the spell protecting Steven, it was a bigger pebble, like a small stone.’
‘And Mark felt the difference,’ Kellin said.
‘He did. But the schooner I discovered from Wellham Ridge was radiating so much energy, I believe I could be hammering away with everything I have and Mark wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.’
Brexan untied her cloak and draped it over the forward hatch. ‘So a shipment is like a big rock in your mill pond.’
‘A boulder,’ Gilmour agreed. ‘Once we get near Pellia, if we’re lucky, Mark will have no idea that we’re still alive, still after him.’
‘And then what?’ Kellin looked at him expectantly.
‘By then, it won’t matter. If we can’t sneak into the city, we’ll have to go in the front door, and that will mean using everything in our arsenal.’
Kellin recalled their battle in Meyers’ Vale, and for the first time all Twinmoon, the idea that she was travelling with two deadly sorcerers was comforting.
&nb
sp; Brexan broke the silence. ‘Tell me about that book, Gilmour. What’s it say? What’s in there?’
The familiar look of uncertainty passed across Gilmour’s face. He checked on Garec and Marrin’s progress, then said, A very long time ago in Gorsk, a man named Lessek—’
‘The Lessek?’ Brexan interrupted, ‘as in all the stories we heard when we were young?’
‘That’s him.’ Gilmour rooted in his tunic for a pipe and, unable to find one, looked suddenly like a two-thousand-Twinmoon-old man who didn’t know what to do with his hands. Giving up, he went on, ‘Lessek used an exceedingly small bit of… well, call it magic, coupled with his knowledge to create spells. At first, they were nothing terribly impressive, so I understand – this was Ages and Eras before I was born – but he learned to move air around a room, to wilt a flower, to get water to freeze, carnival tricks, really, but over time, he continued his research and generated a long list of spells. He would investigate the nature of something, study it, interact with it, pick it apart – sometimes even tear it apart, and then use aspects of his previous spellwork to create a bigger and more powerful incantation.’
‘Common phrase spells?’ Steven asked.
‘Exactly,’Gilmour replied, ‘spells with parts of various incantations in common so as to harness exponential power, layered magic.’
‘Good gods,’ Kellin whispered.
‘When you think about it, there were few greater discoveries in the history of Eldarn. It’s the innovation that made magic such a dominant force in our cultural history. You two have never been to Steven’s world, where there’s little history of magical innovation, so the culture there is based on religion, common social values and traditions, the family, and democratic and economic ideals. Magic has played almost no role at all in defining who they are; actually, the extent of its thread through the fabric of Steven’s cultural history is as entertainment, and it appears in a handful of religious stories. But here, Lessek’s contributions to Eldarni history, as a researcher and a scholar, are just that: he made magic one of the building blocks of Eldarni culture. It is a stone in the foundation of who we are.’
The Larion Senators Page 47