"What do you mean?" Royce asked.
"As I said, I fear it is possible the guild has been compromised. Mr. Price tells me imperial scouts were on hand when you passed through the gate, so it would only be wishful thinking to suppose your visit here was not observed. Given the situation, it will not take a genius to determine what is happening. The next logical step will be to eliminate the threat. And, Duster, you're not the only Diamond alumnus passing through Warric."
Royce's eyes narrowed as he stared at Cosmos and studied the fat man carefully. Cosmos said nothing more on the subject, and strangely, Royce did not inquire further.
"We'll leave immediately," Royce said abruptly. "We'll head south into Rhenydd, which will carry us closer to Gaunt. I'll expect you to contact us with the meeting's place and time in three days. If by the morning of the fourth day we don't hear from you, we'll find our own way to Gaunt."
"If you don't hear from me by then, things will be very bad indeed," Cosmos assured them. "Gibbons, see that they have whatever is needed for travel. Price, arrange for them to slip out of town unnoticed, and get that message to Gaunt's people. Will you need to send a message back to Medford?" Cosmos asked the princess.
She hesitated briefly. "Not until I've reached an agreement with Gaunt. Alric knows the tentative plan and has already begun preparing the invasion."
"Excellent," Cosmos said, standing up and draining his glass. "What a pleasure it is working with professionals. Good luck to all of you and may fortune smile upon us. Just remember to watch your back, Duster. Some ghosts never die."
***
"Your horses and gear will be taken to Finlin's Windmills by morning," Price told them as he rapidly led them out through the rear of the patio. His long gangly legs gave him the appearance of a wayward scarecrow fleeing across a field. Noticing Arista had trouble keeping up he paused for her to catch her breath. "However, you three will be leaving by boat down the Bernum tonight."
"There'll be a watch on the Langdon and the South Bridge," Royce reminded him.
"Armed with crossbows and hot pitch, I imagine," Price replied, grinning. His face looked even more skull-like in the darkness. "But no worries, arrangements have been made."
The Bernum started as a series of tiny creeks that cascaded from Amber Heights and the Senon Upland. They converged, creating a swift-flowing river that cut through a limestone canyon, forming a deep gorge. Eventually it spilled over Amber Falls. The drop took the fight out of the water and from there on the river flowed calmly through the remaining ravine that divided the city. This put Colnora at the navigable headwater of the Bernum—the last stop for goods coming up the river, and a gateway for anyone traveling to Dagastan Bay.
After Arista regained herself, Price resumed rushing them along at a storm's pace. They ducked through a narrow ivy-covered archway and passed a wooden gate that brought them to the rear of the estate. A short stone wall, only a little above waist high, guarded the drop to the river gorge. Looking down, all she could see was darkness, but across the expanse she could make out points of light and the silhouette of buildings. Price directed them to an opening and the start of a long wooden staircase.
"Our neighbor, Bocant the pork mogul, has his six-oxen hoist," Price said, motioning to the next mansion over. Arista could just make out a series of cables and pulleys connected to a large metal box. Two lanterns, one hung at the top and another at the bottom, revealed the extent of the drop, which appeared to be more than a hundred feet. "But we have to make do with our more traditional, all be it more dangerous, route. Try not to fall. The steps are steep and it's a long way down."
The stairs were indeed frightening—a plummeting zigzag of planks and weathered beams bolted to the cliff's face. It looked like a diabolical puzzle of wood and rusting metal, which quaked and groaned the moment they stepped on it. Arista was certain she felt it sway. Memories of a collapsing tower while she clutched on to Royce flooded back to her. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handrail with a sweaty palm and descended sandwiched between Royce and Hadrian.
A narrow dock sat at the bottom and a shallow-draft rowboat banged dully against it with the river's swells. A lantern mounted on the bow illuminated the area with a yellow flicker.
"Put that damn light out you fools!" Price snapped at the two men readying the craft.
A quick hand snuffed out the lantern and Arista's eyes adjusted to the moonlight. From previous trips to Colnora she knew that the river was as congested as Main Street on Hospitality Row during the day, but in the dark it lay empty the vast array of watercraft bobbing at various piers.
When the last of the supplies were aboard, Price returned their weapons. Hadrian strapped his on and Royce's white-bladed dagger disappeared into the folds of his cloak. "In you go," Price told them, putting one foot on the gunwale to steady the boat. A stocky boatman, naked to the waist, stood in the center of the skiff and directed them to their seats.
"Which one of ya might be handy with a tiller?" he asked.
"Etcher," Price said, "why don't you take the tiller?"
"I'm no good with a boat," the wiry youth with a thin mustache and goatee replied as he adjusted the lay of the gear.
"I'll take the rudder," Hadrian said.
"And grateful I am to you, sir," the boatman greeted him cheerily. "Name's Wally…you shouldn't need to use it much. I can steer fine with just the oars, but in the current it's sometimes best not ta paddle a'tall. All ya needs to do is keep her in the center of the river."
Hadrian nodded. "I can do that."
"But, of course, you can, sir."
Royce held Arista's hand as she stepped aboard and found a seat beside Hadrian on a shelf of worn planking. Royce followed her and took up position near the bow next to Etcher.
"When did you order the supplies brought down?" Royce asked Price, who still stood with his foot on the rail.
"Before returning to pick you up at the Regal Fox. I like to stay ahead of things," he winked. "Duster, you might remember Etcher here from the Langdon Bridge last time you were in Colnora. Don't hold that against him. Etcher volunteered to get you safely to the mills when no one else cared for the idea. Now off you go." Price untied the bowline and shoved them out into the black water.
"Stow those lines, Mr. Etcher, sir," Wally said as he waited until they cleared the dock before locking the two long oars into place. With each stroke the oars creaked quietly and the skiff glided into the river's current.
The boatman sat backward as he pulled on the oars. Little effort was required as the current propelled them downstream. Wally pulled on one side or the other, correcting their course as needed. Occasionally he stroked both together to keep them moving slightly faster than the water's flow.
"Blast," Wally cursed softly.
"What is it?" Hadrian asked.
"The lantern went out on the Bocant dock. I use it to steer by. Just my luck, any other night they leave it on. They use that hoisting contraption to unload boats. Sometimes the barges are late rounding the point, and in the darkness that lantern is their marker. They never know when the barges will arrive, so they usually just leave it on all night and—oh wait, it's back. Must have just blown out or something."
"Quiet down," Etcher hissed from the bow. "This is no pleasure cruise. You're being paid to row, not be a river guide."
Royce peered into their dark wake. "Is it normal for small boats to be on the river at night?"
"Not unless you're smuggling," Wally said in a coy tone that made Arista wonder if he had firsthand experience.
"If you don't keep your traps shut someone will notice us," Etcher growled.
"Too late," Royce replied.
"What's that?"
"Behind us, there's at least one boat following."
Arista looked, but could see nothing but the line the moon drew on the black surface of the water.
"You've got a fine pair of eyes, you do," Wally said.
"You're the one that saw them," Royce repli
ed. "The light on the dock didn't go out. The other boat blocked it when they passed in your line of sight."
"How many?" Hadrian asked.
"Six, and they're in a wherry."
"They'll be able to catch us then, won't they?" Arista questioned.
Hadrian nodded. "They race wherries down the Galewyr and here on the Bernum for prize money. No one races skiffs."
Despite this, Wally stroked noticeably harder and, combined with the current, the skiff moved along at a brisk pace, raising a breeze in their faces.
"Langdon Bridge approaching," Etcher announced.
Arista saw it towering above them as they rushed toward it. Massive pillars of stone blocks formed the arches supporting the bridge whose broad span straddled the river eight stories above. She could barely make out the curved heads of the decorative swan-shaped streetlamps that lit the bridge, creating a line of lights against the starry sky.
"There are men up there," Royce said, "and Price wasn't kidding about them having crossbows."
Wally glanced over his shoulder and peered up at the bridge before regarding Royce curiously. "What are ya, part owl?"
"Stop paddling and shut up!" Etcher ordered and Wally pulled his oars out of the water.
They floated silently, propelled by the river's current. Aided by the swan lights, the men on the span soon became visible even to Arista. A dark boat on a black river would be hard to spot, but not impossible. The skiff started to rotate sideways as the current pushed the stern. A nod from Wally prompted Hadrian to compensate with the tiller and the boat straightened.
Light exploded into the night sky. A bright orange and yellow glow spilled onto the bridge from somewhere on the left bank. A warehouse was on fire. It burst into flame, spewing sparks skyward like a cyclone of fireflies. Silhouetted figures ran the length of the bridge and harsh shouts cut the stillness of the night.
"Now paddle!" Etcher ordered, and Wally put his back into it.
Arista used the opportunity to glance aft and now she too saw the wherry illuminated by the fire from above. It was a good fifteen-feet in length and she guessed barely four-feet across. Four men sat in two side-by-side pairs each manning an oar. Besides the oarsmen there was a man sitting in the stern and another at the bow with a grappling hook.
"I think they mean to board us," Arista whispered.
"No," Royce said. "They're waiting."
"For what?"
"I'm not sure, but I don't intend to find out. Give us as much distance as you can, Wally."
"Slide over, pal. Let me give you a hand," Hadrian told the boatman as he took up a seat beside him. "Arista, take the tiller."
The princess replaced Hadrian, grabbing hold of the wooden handle. She had no idea what to do with it and opted for keeping it centered. Hadrian rolled up his sleeves and, bracing his feet against the toggles, took one of the oars. Royce slipped off his cloak and boots and dropped them onto the floor of the boat.
"Don't do anything stupid," Etcher told him. "We've still got another bridge to clear."
"Just make sure you get them past the South Bridge and we'll be fine," Royce said. "Now, gentlemen if you could put a little distance between us."
"On three," Wally announced and they began stroking together, pulling hard and fast so that the bow noticeably rose and a wake began to froth. Caught by surprise, Etcher stumbled backward and nearly fell.
"What the blazes are—" Etcher started when Royce leapt over the gunwale and disappeared. "Damn fool. What does he expect us to do, wait for him?"
"Don't worry about Royce," Hadrian replied, as he and Wally stroked in unison. To Arista, the wherry did seem to drop farther back but perhaps that was only wishful thinking.
"South Bridge," Etcher whispered.
As they approached, Arista saw another fire blazing. This time it was a boat dock burning like well-aged kindling. The old South Bridge that marked the city's boundary was not nearly as high as the Langdon, and Arista could easily see the guards.
"They aren't going for it this time," Hadrian said. "They're staying at their posts."
"Quiet. We might slip by," Etcher whispered.
With oars held high, they all sat as still as statues. Arista found herself in command of the skiff as it floated along in the current. She quickly learned how the rudder affected the boat. The results felt backward to her, pulling right made the bow swing left. Terrified of making a mistake, she concentrated on keeping the boat centered and straight. Up ahead, something odd was being lowered from the bridge. It looked like cobwebs or tree branches dangling. She was going to steer around it when she realized it stretched the entire span.
"They draped a net!" Etcher said a little too loudly.
Wally and Hadrian back paddled, but the river's current was the victor and the skiff flowed helplessly into the fishnet. The boat rotated, pinning it sideways. Water frothed along the length threatening to tip them.
"Shore your boat and don't move from it!" A shout echoed down from above.
A lantern lowered from the bridge revealed their struggles to free themselves from the mesh. Etcher, Wally, and Hadrian slashed at the netting with knives, but before they could clear it, two imperial soldiers descended and took up position on the bank. Each was armed with a crossbow.
"Stop now or we'll kill you where you stand," the nearest soldier ordered with a harsh, anxious voice. Hadrian nodded and the three dropped their knives.
Arista could not take her eyes off the crossbows. She knew those weapons. She had seen Essendon soldiers practicing with them in the yard. They pierced old helms placed on dummies filled with straw, leaving huge holes through the heavy metal. These were close enough for her to see the sharp iron heads of the bolts—the power to pierce armor held in check by a small trigger and pointed directly at them.
Wally and Hadrian maneuvered the boat to the bank and one by one they exited, Hadrian offering Arista his hand as she climbed out. They stood side by side, Arista and Hadrian in front, Wally and Etcher behind.
"Remove your weapons," one of the soldiers ordered, motioning toward Hadrian. Hadrian paused, his eyes shifting between the two bowmen before slipping off his swords. One of the soldiers approached while the other stayed back, maintaining a clear line of sight.
"What are your names?" the foremost soldier asked.
No one answered.
The lead guard took another step forward and intently studied Arista. "Well, well, well," he said. "Look what we have here, Jus. We done caught ourselves a fine fish we have."
"Who is it?" Jus asked.
"This here is that Princess of Melengar, the one they say is a witch."
"How do you know?"
"I recognize her. I was in Medford the year she was on trial for killing her father."
"What's she doing here, ya think?"
"Don't know…what are you doing here?"
She said nothing, her eyes locked on the massive bolt heads. Made of heavy iron, the point looked sharp. Knight killers, Sir Ecton called them.
What will they do to me?
"The captain will find out," the soldier said. "I recognize these two as well." He motioned to Wally and Etcher. "I seen 'em around the city afore."
"'Course you have," Wally spoke up. "I've piloted this river for years. We weren't doing nothin' wrong."
"If you've been on this river 'afore, then you knows we don't allow transports at night."
Wally did not say anything.
"I don't know that one though, what's yer name?"
"Hadrian," he said, taking the opportunity to step forward as if to shake hands.
"Back! Back!" the guard shouted, bringing his bow to bear at Hadrian's chest. Hadrian immediately stopped. "Take one more step and I'll punch a hole clear through you!"
"So what's your plan?" Hadrian asked.
"You and your pals just sit tight. We sent a runner to fetch a patrol. We'll take you over to see the captain. He'll know what to do with the likes of you."
"I hope w
e don't have to wait long," Hadrian told them. "This damp night air isn't good. You could catch a cold. Looks like you have already. What do you think, Arista?"
"I ain't got no cold."
"Are you sure? Your eyes and nose look red. Arista, you agree with me, don't you?"
"What?" Arista said, still captivated by the crossbows. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and barely heard Hadrian addressing her.
"I bet you two been coughing and sneezing all night, haven't you?" Hadrian continued. "Nothing worse than a summer cold. Right, Arista?"
Arista was dumbfounded by Hadrian's blathering and his obsession with the health of the two soldiers. She felt obligated to say something. "I—I suppose."
"Sneezing, that's the worst. I hate to sneeze."
Arista gasped.
"Just shut up," the soldier ordered. Without taking his eyes off Hadrian, he called to Jus behind him. "See anyone coming yet?"
"Not yet," Jus replied. "All of them off dealing with that fire I 'spect."
Arista never tried this under pressure before. Closing her eyes, she fought to remember the concentration technique Esrahaddon taught her. She took deep breaths, cleared her mind, and tried to calm herself. Arista focused on the sounds around her—the river lapping against the boat, the wind blowing through the trees, and the chirping of the frogs and crickets. Then slowly, one by one, she blocked each out. Opening her eyes she stared at the soldiers. She saw them in detail now, the three-day-old whiskers on their faces, their rumpled tabards, even the rusted links in their hauberks. Their eyes showed their nervous excitement and Arista thought she even caught the musky odor of their bodies. Breathing rhythmically, she focused on their noses as she began to hum then mutter. Her voice slowly rose as if in song.
"I said no—" The soldier stopped suddenly, wrinkling his nose. His eyes began to water and he shook his head in irritation. "I said no—" he began again and stopped once more, gasping for air.
Nyphron Rising Page 13