"The gates were left open after the music . . . . Oh, the music!" he said. "Many fled, but I found you! I found—" The sound of cries echoed from the stone walls crowding the narrow street, and the man glanced down the alley behind the Holdsmen.
"Kal!" Galli tugged on his friend's sleeve and shot a glance back down the way they had come. "Kal, we must go. Now!"
The stranger let go of Kal's hand, stood and bowed stiffly. "Yes, go, go . . . ," he said as he stepped aside. "I will tell the others. Go, now, and thank you, thank you, my lord Myghternos Hordanu." He bowed again.
Kal stared at the man, who remained bent over, looking at the cobbles at his feet. Galli grabbed Kal's arm and tugged him away. Without glancing up, the stranger turned and retreated back down the alley from which he had emerged.
Kal was shaken by the encounter but doggedly followed Gwyn and Galli in their flight to the ships. "How had he known me?" Kal puzzled aloud to himself. "And the music? How had he—"
"Kal, this way!" Galli called. "We'll throw them off our path!"
They crossed a small enclosed courtyard and slipped beneath an archway into a narrow passage, then another, and out onto an expanse of manicured lawns that overlooked the Dinastor River. Kal's thoughts turned again to the strange man, but there was no time to think further. They had reached the top of the long flight of stone stairs leading to the quay.
Below them, the two sister river sloops from Uferian's fleet sat amid nearly forty similar ships moored to stays along the quay or lying at anchor in the harbour's sheltered waters. Save for the seaholdsmen standing ready to sail on the Gloamseeker and the Pelidore, not a soul stirred on the decks of any of the ships. On the Gloamseeker, a sailor bent over the hatch and straightened again even as Bethsefra appeared from belowdecks and looked up the steps. She waved excitedly, then turned back to issue orders to her men on both the ships. Her voice drifted up the stairs, but was unintelligible, lost to the Holdsmen in the breeze.
Kal sped down the stairs and stepped onto the quay by the sloops a moment later. Bethsefra stood waiting for him on the deck of her ship. The fear and expectancy that etched her gentle features softened into relief as she ran down the gangplank and threw her arms around Kal's neck and buried her head in the folds of cloth on his chest. Just as suddenly, she withdrew, staring at the golden harp that poked out from beneath his cloak.
"The Talamadh?" she said in barely more than a whisper.
Kal drew back his robe, revealing the harp. Bethsefra stared at it, her hands covering her mouth.
"Oh, Kalaquinn," she said at length. "I heard it! Oh, it was the most beautiful . . . Was it you? Oh, yes! Yes, it was! Oh, Kal!"
"You heard the music, too?" Galli asked, drawing up beside Kal. "How could you? You were here, weren't you?"
"Yes, Galli, yes. But there was such a wind. We thought the ships would be lost, even tied to the docks. But then the sound . . . I've never heard anything like it."
"What happened then?" Galli asked, pressing closer.
"What happened?" Bethsefra glanced up at Galli. "Why do you ask, Galligaskin?"
"Something happened, didn't it? What happened after you heard the music?"
"I was not here."
"You weren't here?"
"I mean, I was here, but I somehow found myself in the castle court at Swanskeld. I know, it sounds absurd!" She shook her head and glanced at Kal again.
"No, it doesn't," Galli said. "Tell me what happened, Bethsefra."
"I was fighting. I-I fought myself . . . . I mean, I was at practice with my sword, and I ended up sparring against myself. But . . . it wasn't me . . . ."
"It was everything wrong in you?" Galli said.
"Yes . . . somehow," Bethsefra said. Her brow furrowed in thought. "And it was more than sparring. It was a fight to the death, but I won . . . . Somehow, I won." She looked exhausted and confused, but beneath that there was a look of peace. Kal placed his hand on hers.
"Galli, Gwyn, we must leave. Go, ensure that the Pelidore is ready to sail." The two Holdsmen turned away and bounded along the quay and up the plank to the second river sloop. Kal turned again to the woman. "Where is your father? Has he arrived yet?"
"No. I don't know where he is."
"Galli told him to make for the ships from the Silver Palace," Kal said. "He should have been here by now."
"No doubt he would have to gather his effects from his lodging. I'm sure he will arrive soon. But where is Devved? I do not see him with you."
"No." Kal shook his head and looked out across the river. "No, Devved is not with us. He is dead. He gave himself up to let us escape. But Uferian," he said, looking back at the young woman, "he will escape the city without any trouble, and when he arrives, you and he will have to set sail for Woodglence immediately. Given the turn of events, there will be no suspicion at your leaving so abruptly."
"And you . . . ?"
"We will avail ourselves of Uferian's generosity and board the Pelidore. We sail for Gorfalster."
Bethsefra's green eyes searched Kal's face.
"No," he said, "I know you would join us, but your father needs you. And I have something that I would have you do for me. There is none other that I would ask this of."
"What, my lord?"
"The Talamadh . . ." He glanced down at the harp he held under his crimson cloak.
"I-I don't understand."
"It is not safe for it to be with me, not with me where I journey," Kal said. "I have lost it once before. I will not risk it again."
Bethsefra made to protest, but Kal lifted his hand to stop her and shook his head slowly, then placed his hand in the crook of her arm and directed her away from the sloops.
"You must take it, Bethsefra. Take it to my people in the Marshes of Atramar. You must tell no one, not even your father. Such information could well place his life at risk, even as I place yours at risk by asking you to do this. But, even so, will you? Will you do it?"
The woman's eyes narrowed a moment in thought as she looked into Kal's face. There was such a strength within her. Kal had never seen the like in any woman before.
"Tell me," she said. "Tell me what I must do."
"My people are hidden deep in the Marshes of Atramar. Thurfar is their chief. Give him the Talamadh. He must place it in Aelward's Cot."
The young woman nodded. "But . . . but how am I to get to the Marshes, Kal?"
"The Asgarth Forest. The old trackways lead deep into the heart of it. Be careful. The folk there are friendly, but very wary and suspicious. Ask for Old Jock. They will take you to him, and he will take you to Aelward's Cot."
He quickly went over his instructions again, asked Bethsefra to repeat them, and then swore her to silence. He shot a glance up the steps from the quay. "The moment Uferian comes, you must leave. And if he doesn't arrive in the next quarter hour—"
"He will come," the woman said. "He will come."
Kal quickly unfastened his cloak and wrapped the golden harp in the heavy crimson fabric. "You will need no more token than this to prove to Jock that you are who you say you are. He is the first one to whom you may show the harp, and the last, until you reach Aelward's Cot and give it to Thurfar. And this too"—he removed the golden circlet from his head and folded it in the velvet robe—"in warrant of the success of my journey." He handed the bundle to Bethsefra, holding onto it after she had reached out to take it. "Stay there, Bethsefra. Stay there in safety until I return."
She looked into his eyes, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for a lingering moment. They parted and looked at one another again.
"Stay at Aelward's Cot until I return."
"My lord," Bethsefra said, "I will do your bidding as regards the Talamadh, but whether I stay there or not . . . My duty is to my king and my country. I must return to Swanskeld." She turned from Kal. "So, to our ships."
"Aye, to our ships . . . . Bethsefra?"
"Yes, Kalaquinn?" The woman stopped and turned.
"Ah . . . a
h . . . Y-you will be very careful?" Kal's face crimsoned. "I mean to say, travel safely. I will see you again, Bethsefra."
"Yes, Kalaquinn," she said and smiled. "Until we meet again."
"May you be held in Wuldor's eye."
"And you, Kal. Briacoil."
Kal watched Bethsefra climb the gangplank to her ship, before he turned to his own.
"Milady told us to obey you as we would our lord Uferian. Such was her command, such is my will." The sailor and his mate bowed their heads smartly, then straightened as Kal stepped onto the deck of the Pelidore. "What is your command, my lord?"
"We sail downriver to Lake Lavengro and then up the Parwyden River to Gorfalster."
"Aye, good, my lord . . . and, my lord . . ." The seaholdsman held out a white cloth wrapped around a small object. "Milady Bethsefra asked me to give you this."
"What is it?" Kal asked, taking it from the man.
"I don't know," the seaholdsman said. "It never occurred to me to ask her." He winked at Kal and turned away to issue a series of soft-spoken directions to his fellow sailor as they cast off the lines.
In a moment, the Pelidore was under sail and moving away from the quay, gently making her way through the cluster of moored river craft. Bethsefra stood on the deck of the Gloamseeker, watching the ship retreat. She raised a hand, then let it fall to her side. Kal felt the Dinastor River catch the sloop and pull it into its grip. The current favoured them, as did the breeze. The Gloamseeker, however, would have to fight to make her way, but Kal knew her master to be a more than capable sailor. The voyage upstream would prove little challenge to him. Bethsefra and Uferian would make it out of Dinas Antrum without difficulty, if Uferian ever managed to get to his ship.
At that moment, in the growing distance, figures clad in black appeared at the top of the steps descending to the quay. They made their way quickly down the stairs. Bethsefra had seen them, too, for she slipped away from the rail of the sloop to meet the party on the quay. She threw her arms around one man. No sooner had the group boarded the sloop than it pushed off from the quay to follow its sister ship out of the Palace harbour and onto the river. The sails of the Pelidore billowed, and the sloop increased speed. In no more than a minute, the sloop was rounding a bend in the river, and, even as it began to make its first tack across the river, the Gloamseeker was lost to sight.
Kal looked at the white cloth he held in his hand. Gently he unfolded it to expose the delicate image of the Talamadh—his pios! He had carried it in his pocket, he remembered, when he accompanied Uferian to the chamber of the proconsul. But how had Bethsefra retrieved it? Well, it mattered little whether by guile, by charm, or by bribe, she had restored it to him, and for that he was grateful. He turned the pios over in his hand. Beneath it was a small silver pendant in the shape of a swan affixed to a chain. There was also a folded slip of paper. This he opened to find words written on it in a fine hand: "Friend of Uferian, Friend of the Oakapple Isles, my lord Myghternos Hordanu, you will never be far from my heart. B." Kal slid the handkerchief, pios, and paper into his pocket. The pendant he studied for a few moments before gently hanging it around his neck on its chain.
Kal fell to pondering what lay behind, and what lay ahead. He could find no reasonable explanation for what had so recently happened—the wind music, the visions, the resultant panic and mass chaos. But he had escaped. Bethsefra and Uferian would be safe. The Talamadh, by Wuldor's care, would also be safe, placed in the keeping of the Holdsfolk at Aelward's Cot. Devved, however, was lost, and for the first time since their flight from the city, Kal felt a deep pang of realization. The big blacksmith, one of the precious few left of the Clanholding of Lammemorn, had perished to preserve Kal's life. Kal's eyes clouded as tears welled. He quietly sang verses of the prayer of passage for Devved and watched the river banks slip away.
The river was almost empty of watercraft. There were no river patrols to be seen, and, other than a few odd boats that kept their distance, most of the vessels that they passed seemed to be abandoned, drifting along the river or caught up along the reedy banks. In all, it was a strangely quiet voyage, the ship passing without challenge quickly down the Dinastor River and out onto Lake Lavengro.
Kal had not moved from the rail of the ship through the whole journey. Now, to the west over the placid waters of Lake Lavengro, the sun blazed in its dying colours, glorious as it illuminated the sky and fell slowly into the waters. Truly, it was an incredible sight, and Kal became aware of the silent presence of his companions by his side. Kal pushed himself away from the rail and turned to the other side of the ship. There, to the east, purple twilight crept up from the horizon. Clouds were gathering. Heavy anvil thunderheads stained the already dark sky, and forked tongues of lightning chased the blackness in flickering silver. Kal pondered the display and mused to himself, a grin creasing his features. There, he thought, lay his path, there his future, and there his hopes—for there lay Kêl-Skrivar.
THE END
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Darkling Fields of Arvon Page 50