‘I expect to meet up with the other miners from Eisarn Pit later today or tomorrow,’ he continued. ‘I don’t know how many of them I can persuade to stay with us, but I will try.’ The alchemist, at least, would remain as close to the huanu stone as he could, Noetos would bet anything on that. ‘Even if only one or two choose to join us, we will have the numbers to bring down the Recruiters and free their captives.’ He wouldn’t say their names, wouldn’t even think them, until they were safe. Don’t tempt fate.
Actually, his plan, such as it was, did not require more help than he already had. But extra bodies wouldn’t hurt. It all depended on whether the Recruiters had gone inland or had taken the coast road through Kotzikas.
‘Tell me,’ said Gawl, ever the provocateur. ‘Say we rescue your wife and son, but two’ve us’re snuffed out. Is that fair trade? Or what if we lose four? What makes your missus ’n’ sprog worth more’n us?’
It’s a fair question, Noetos told himself, trying to quell his rising anger. Gawl knew how to light his fuse. An apt metaphor for a miner. Here’s another: he’ll chip away at me until he brings me down.
It’s a fair question, but there’s no point in giving him a fair answer.
‘Because you are a dead man,’ Noetos answered. ‘Or you would be by now—a week dead and rotting at the bottom of Eisarn Pit—if I had not intervened. So now what you and your companions are worth is up to me to decide.’
‘If we all ganged up on you—’
‘But you won’t.’ Noetos nodded his head to Dagla, Tumar and Pril, who were listening with interest. ‘Because your friends are finding they are enjoying being useful, and because, although none of them would say it to your face, they don’t trust you, Gawl. You’re on your own. Gang up on me by yourself and see what happens.’
He turned to the others in his army. ‘Once I have my wife and son safely back with me, you will be free to go. I am asking no more of you than this.’
‘But, my lord,’ Dagla said, his reedy young voice rattling in his throat, ‘where are these Recruiters? How long is it gonna take t’ find ‘em?’
‘It’s only been a week since we left Makyra Bay. The Recruiters spent a night at Ydra, that we know, and continued north along the coast road. But unless they’ve covered their tracks well, or the citizens of Zagira, Progo and Cuku have been bribed or cowed into lying to us, it seems they no longer travel the coast road.’
‘So why don’t we turn inland now? Pursue them hard instead of allowing them to get further away?’ Bregor seemed to have developed a genuine interest in the rescue mission, though Noetos was not certain whether the Hegeoman yet believed in the Recruiters’ ill intent.
‘Because I want to be sure. Kotzikas is the largest of the coastal villages south of Raceme. If they stop anywhere on the road north, it will be there.’
Gawl was about to carry the argument further, Noetos could read it on his face, when one of the Makyrans gave a shout. Over the nearest ridge came a slow procession: half a dozen mules, each heavily laden with what looked like supplies, led by the miners who had volunteered to warn the coastal villages about the Neherian fleet. They were followed by a score or more children, no doubt from Kotzikas, whooping and huzzahing like it was a summer holiday. Which it most certainly is not, Noetos thought. They have just been warned of a Neherian invasion. Though it has in all likelihood been averted, they don’t know that yet.
‘Glad to see you survived the Neherians,’ Seren said to him when the procession arrived. The Eisarn Pit night-shift overseer smiled. ‘We survived too, but we’re not as famous as you and your army.’
‘Are they calling us an army?’ Dagla asked, eyes wide.
‘Yep,’ Papunas growled. ‘You lot, just learned to wipe yer bums and you’re the heroes of the Fisher Coast. They want you to come down t’ Kotzikas, y’ know. They were happy to see us,’—just how happy could be gauged from his crooked smile—‘but they’ll be happier still to see you. Go down there and you c’n have anythin’ you want. Although they think there’s a hunnerd or more of you up here, so the stories go.’
‘How do they know?’ Noetos asked bluntly.
‘Someone from Makyra Bay took into her head t’ put out to sea. Well, she went north to Ydra, and took a boat from there, so’s not to be seen by the salties. Good thinkin’, that. Beat us to Kotzikas by a few hours, as it happens.’
Ah, no wonder they’re behaving like someone’s given them a holiday, the fisherman thought. I’d like to meet the woman who had the courage to brave the Neherian fleet. He mentally saluted her. Still, there are more important matters at hand.
‘Have the Recruiters been through Kotzikas?’ he asked impatiently.
‘Don’t think so,’ said Seren. ‘At least, we heard nothing of them, and we did ask. There’s no way travellers like them coulda been hidden.’
‘Oh, there is,’ Noetos said. ‘But, if my guess is right, I don’t think they want to be hidden. I have been considering what they said to me when we fought in Fossa. I think they know about the huanu stone, and they want to lure me to a place away from villages, away from people, where they can take it from me.’
Noetos noted Bregor’s surprised grunt. So the thought was slow coming to him also.
‘Makes sense, friend, doesn’t it?’
The Hegeoman acted like a fish unsure of the hook. ‘I just don’t see why officials of Andratan would behave like that. I’ve based my whole life on trust in authority. How could they operate with such disregard for their masters?’
‘Ah, but are they? What if they are fulfilling Andratan’s will? Do they want the huanu stone for themselves, or are they seeking a reward for safely delivering it into the hands of the Undying Man? Remember their official role: to find the precious things of the Fisher Coast and gather them up for Andratan to use.’ To destroy.
‘I’m sorry, Fisher, your story fits every fact but one. What about the body of your daughter? You say she was killed by the Recruiters. Why did you leave her body in the Fisher House to rot?’ Bregor flinched at the last word, sensing perhaps he’d gone too far.
‘Hegeoman, I heard her die,’ Noetos rasped. ‘She pushed us out of the house with the power of her Voice.’
‘Even though you say she had no tongue.’
‘Even so! When I tried to return, the rear of the house collapsed in a rush of blue fire. I heard her scream. When I forced my way back inside I saw her on the floor, a knife in her back. I would have remained, would have cared for her body, but the Recruiters came at me with their swords, forcing me to flee. You know how many hours I was on the run that night, friend.’
The last word twisted in the morning air.
Noetos continued, his face tight with anger. ‘I went back to Fisher House late that night, to find she had disappeared. Her body disposed of by the Recruiters. All I recovered was my sword. Be assured, Bregor, her whereabouts is a question I will ask of them. After I hear the answer from their dying tongues, my first task on returning to Fossa will be to find and bury her remains. My second, friend, will be to receive your apology.’
Bregor bowed his head and closed his eyes, clearly unwilling to continue the argument further.
‘Why do you find this so difficult?’ Noetos pressed. ‘You were there at Nadoce Square when the Recruiters admitted what they’d done. Did you not believe them?’
‘Fisher, you’ve said this before. I heard nothing that evening except you asking us for help. I suppose you are going to claim they used some sort of magic to keep their words from our ears?’
‘Well, actually—’
‘Oh my,’ said a familiar voice at precisely the wrong time. ‘Reasonable questions, fisherman, yes they are, if you expect people to risk their lives for you.’
Noetos took a step towards the alchemist. Everyone around him took a step back. The children, suddenly aware of the increased tension, fell silent, except for one who began to cry.
Omiy held his ground. ‘So frightening, oh yes, this fisherman,
such a temper, liable to explode at any moment. But I am not frightened, oh my, no. And why not? Because I deal with explosive alchemy every day of my life. The fuse is lit, but it is not too late for someone to pinch it. Like so. Tell me, yes tell me, how much further do you think the Recruiters have travelled in the time it has taken us to have this argument?’
Omiy actually smiled at him.
If this exasperating excuse for a man thought to escape his wrath by such a manoeuvre…But naturally he had, because he was right in what he said. What an extraordinary person. Of course, he would have to be. For such an eccentric man, survival in Eisarn Pit would depend on his earning the miners’ respect.
Noetos ignored the pounding in his temple and smiled back. It was a feeble effort, that smile, but no other way to deal with the situation presented itself. The others would know he had nearly lost control of himself, but hopefully would also be reassured he could rein in his temper.
At least Bregor’s voice was back to normal.
North of Kotzikas the land began to change. The last of the limestone ridges ended two days’ walk from the village; sheep country replaced by alluvial plains and gently rolling hills upon which grain, oranges and olives were grown. Here the land became more important to the people of the Fisher Coast, and they turned their backs on the sea. The few coastal villages between Kotzikas and Raceme, a two-week journey to the north, were, according to the alchemist, small affairs and focused on farming.
Noetos and his followers crossed the Saar River, thereby leaving Palestra and entering Saros, and bore inland. There were no customs houses, no tolls; both countries were relatively new, part of the rubble left after the fall of Roudhos, and the former countrymen were reluctant to implement taxes on each other.
After surmounting a couple of low ridges, they came onto a wide plain, hedged at the far end by a cliff at least equal in height to the coastal cliffs around Fossa. This Noetos remembered as Saros Rake, the place from which his father had first shown him the sea. That exact spot was a few days’ ride north, he guessed, but he was pleased to see his memory of the area bore some resemblance to reality. Saros Rake featured prominently in the plans he had laid.
The inland road between Tochar and Raceme had been built under the shadow of Saros Rake, on the far side of the Saar River from where Noetos and his army walked. Pril, one of his sworn men, had been born and raised on the Saar Plain and knew the less-travelled paths.
Staying on the eastern side of the river would mean they were unlikely to be discovered by the Recruiters, Pril told them, but it would lengthen their journey and they would have to ford the river. There was no bridge, he said, south of Enrahl, where the road from Altima joined the road from Tochar to cross on an arched stone structure.
The next two days saw drizzle move in from the sea, sending a frisson of worry through the fisherman. This time of year a thick sea drizzle could last a week or more, totally unsuitable for his plans. But the morning of their third day on the Saar Plain dawned fine and the remaining clouds slowly lifted, allowing a gentle sun to counter the cool sea breeze.
By midday Noetos had had enough of being patient. He called Pril over.
‘Where’s the best place to cross the river?’
‘Back a ways,’ the man said in a slow Sarosan drawl. ‘River’s wide ‘bout half a day’s walk south. Folk can cross there ’n’ barely get their feet wet.’ He seemed proud of his knowledge.
Noetos breathed deeply. ‘Pril, we need a crossing north of here. If we turn back now, we’ll lose any advantage we might have gained over the Recruiters.’
The man seemed unperturbed at the rebuke. ‘North a here? Well, we could try Cutter’s Gap. A mite deeper there but it’ud make for a shorter crossin’ if haste is drivin’ you.’
‘Would everyone here be able to manage the crossing?’ Noetos was not used to spelling out his intentions; his crew on the Arathé knew what he was going to ask before he asked it. Not so his sworn men, of whom Pril was definitely the worst.
‘Naah,’ came the laconic reply. ‘We’d have tuh leave some a them on this here side.’
‘Well, that’s no good,’ Noetos said patiently.
Omiy interrupted. ‘Pril, take us to the closest part of the river where I can cross, would you, yes?’
Pril’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, beggin’ my master’s pardon, I see what y’ want now. Sure, I c’n have yiz all at Chandlers Ferry afore sundown, if we hurry.’
‘A ferry? We won’t have to ford the river after all?’
‘Ah, nah, there use’ta be a ferry there, all broken now. While back the river changed, dumpin’ stone ’n’ silt where the ferry use’ta cross. Put the ferryman—the chandler did it hisself—outa business. So the chandler, he did marry Sausin of Saar and moved t’ town nigh six years ago. Nuthin’ left but a coupl’a broken-down buildin’s ’n’ an orchard goin’ wild. Nice oranges, if ya get ‘em afore th’ wasps do.’
‘Yes, fine, enough about the wasps. No ferry, but a place to cross. It will get us to the Tochar road by tomorrow?’
‘If we hurry,’ the man said, then pulled a floppy felt hat out of a pocket in his breeches and set it on his head. ‘Best we rattle our dags, eh?’
‘Best we what?’ Noetos asked Omiy when the man had made his way to the head of the procession.
‘Oh my, Pril’s family used to run sheep up on top of Saros Rake, yes. Best you don’t ask him to give you a literal explanation.’ The alchemist thinned his lips in a rather prim fashion.
Alerted to the need for haste, the procession made good time northwards, stopping only briefly to purchase bread, fruit, cheese and a little dried meat from a local farmer. ‘Not much in the way of coins left,’ Papunas reported, waving a flat purse for all to judge.
‘It’s all right, I have plenty,’ Seren said. ‘We won’t starve as long as we don’t make this army any larger’n it already is.’
The Recruiters can’t be far behind us. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be lucky if the army isn’t substantially smaller than it is now. Noetos tried not to feel guilt at the thought, and kept it to himself.
They forded the Saar River just before dark. Noetos argued for the crossing to be left until early the next morning, when they would be fresh, but Gawl pointed out that the water would be far colder in the morning. ‘Cold’ll kill you more quickly than anything,’ he said.
‘Not quicker’n a rock to the head,’ Noetos heard Dagla mutter. Gawl likely heard it, too, but if he did he kept his own counsel. Be careful, boy. Gawl’s looking for a fight; don’t you give it to him. You’re the best of them, and I don’t want to lose you.
The mules did not like the cold water one bit. Truth to be told, they hadn’t liked much of the last week, pining for their southern hay and the quiet drudgery of the Palestran Line. The lead mule stamped her feet and refused to move, those behind her following suit. The men were forced to unbuckle their bags and sleeping rolls and attempt the crossing thus encumbered. Perhaps that, or general tiredness after many days on their feet—or a combination of both—explained what happened.
The Saar River was at this point a tangle of shoals and islands, interweaved by a braided flow of water slightly higher than normal due to recent rain. This meant that Noetos’s army had to make crossings of six separate streams. The first three were achieved without incident, but at the commencement of the fourth ford the second man in the line, an older man from Makyra Bay, twisted his ankle on a stone. He immediately went down in the water with a splash, occasioning a few churlish barks of laughter. He must have hit his head on a hidden rock, because he did not resurface for some time; and when he did, he was already fifty paces downstream, face down in the rippling water, his pack beside him.
‘Just one of you!’ Noetos called, but his advice went unheard. Every man from Makyra Bay and most of the miners surged in the direction of their drowning comrade. It would have served as comedy had the results not been so catastrophic. Men fell over each other, cursing as they and their bagg
age found the cold, swift waters.
‘Get to the banks!’ Noetos shouted to the remainder. ‘Drop your gear, get downstream of them and fish them out when they come past!’
They found the body wedged between a rock and a tree stump about three hundred paces downstream. No one else was killed, but one of the miners suffered a broken wrist, and six bags were lost, including most of the bread, cheese and dried meat. A chastened and soaked group assembled around the fisherman, heads down.
‘This is not good enough!’ Noetos roared, and this time his anger was such that none dared speak. ‘In jest you have referred to yourselves as my army. I’ve seen you taking pride in what we did at Makyra Bay, how we beat off the Neherians and warned the coastal villages of the danger they faced. Where is that pride now? You are a rabble, not an army! From now on you are on a ship, and I am your captain. You do as I say or you are thrown overboard. You do not do what you think is right. You wait for orders. Orders that will come from me, or from Seren, Papunas or the Seal here. See the man lying there on the stones? You killed him by not listening to your commander. You are murderers. But this poor man is the last of your friends you will murder. Have I spoken clearly?’
All the while he spoke, Noetos felt himself drenched in shame, its coldness making him shiver. Their victory at Makyra Bay had been achieved by the initiative and heroism of people like Bregor and Dagla. He, Noetos, had been the one to rush off in disobedience to orders, even though they had been his own. The speech of a hypocrite sounds bitter in one’s ears, he reflected.
The sun had set behind Saros Rake by the time he and his sorry army returned to the safety of the eastern shore, from where they had ventured less than half an hour earlier. The mules awaited them there, along with the wrangler and the alchemist who had been detailed to care for them. They made camp that night in the mouse-ridden ruins of the chandlery. Very little was said, and sleep—or at least the pretence of sleep—came swiftly.
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