by Ted Neill
Val rubbed his face with his hands. “I was afraid you all would die or be captured following a failed ideal.”
“Many of us were captured or died anyway, Twenge made sure of that.”
Val swallowed. “It’s my worst nightmare and my greatest paradox. The longer I served with you and the men, the more I thought you family. The less I could bear anything happening to you.”
Haille thought back to how Val had frozen on the bridge over the river and remembered Cody’s words: he cares too much.
“You panicked. You would freeze,” Chloe said, her voice flat.
“You knew?”
“We all knew.”
“I was weak. No longer fit to lead, to be followed.”
“That was up to us to decide. You denied us that.”
“I froze on the bridge just days ago when we saw Twenge.”
“So you think it won’t happen again, that things will be as they were?”
“No, actually I’m sure it will happen again, which is why I need you. If something were to happen to me . . . this mission—”
“Is a farce. We’re well past our prime.”
“That hasn’t stopped Cody.”
“He wouldn’t let you leave him if you tried.”
Val laughed. “By the stars I tried.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“But I’ve come to realize how much I need him. How much I need you. Gunther, too.”
She readjusted herself in her chair. She sat in it backwards, her forearms crossed over its back. “Gunther isn’t one of us. It’s one of the reasons I love him. He’s not going to run off on some idealist quest to right the world’s wrongs.”
“How can you be sure? Every man needs a mission to measure himself up against, a trial to prove himself.”
“He’s happy. We’re happy.”
“He must feel wasted here.”
“What you are suggesting is too dangerous.”
“Now who is afraid of loss?”
“Val, we’re not young anymore. Not as foolhardy. Not as idealistic. You are right, there is something valuable in stability.”
Val was quiet, looking into the glowing mound of coals, his jaw working.
“Say something, Val.”
“I guess I feel stable surrounded by my team. My left hand and my right, that’s all. But things . . . things change.” He placed his flagon down on the floor, stood up to stretch, then without further word stepped outside, the sailcloth curtain swaying behind him. Haille was prepared to leave Chloe to her thoughts, but Katlyn, whom he thought asleep, spoke up.
“It’s hard for you.”
Chloe looked up, the side of her face twitching.
“Hard how? To be torn between honor and love, friend and husband? Or maybe you mean scratching out a living in a small edge of the kingdom port town. Or perhaps you must mean being a woman where every man feels he is entitled?”
Katlyn grew quiet, stung by the sharpness of Chloe’s words. She frowned down into her lap.
“Well, which is it?” Chloe asked.
“Maybe all those things,” Katlyn finally volunteered.
Chloe let out a bitter laugh. “Likely,” she said, standing up. She let out a curse when she realized Mistie and Cody had both gone missing, then turned back to Haille and Katlyn. “Come, I’ll show you where you can sleep. You’ll want to stay here a few days until the next ship to Karrith City sails. In the meantime you will earn your keep. When Mistie turns up, Katlyn, you will help her. Prince Haille, even a prince might have to play the part of itinerant worker.”
“I’m ready to,” Haille said.
“Know your way around a boat?”
He nodded, even if he didn’t.
“Gunther will need help tomorrow on the water, the sunfish are schooling.”
Haille was not sure what that meant, but he was eager for any time spent with Gunther.
“I’m happy to help.”
“You might not feel the same when we wake you up before dawn tomorrow. Come, follow me.”
Gunther shook Haille awake before dawn. Haille was not even sure he had slept more than three hours, but he shuffled across the tiny bedroom, dressed, and wrapped himself in his cloak against the chill of the night. The stars were still visible low down on the horizon and the village was quiet but for a few figures moving through the darkness in the direction of the docks. These were other fishermen who acknowledged one another with nods and simple short greetings. “Morn.”
Haille was slow and sluggish and nearly missed a step boarding the Sunchime, Gunther’s modest fishing skiff, but Gunther was there to catch hold of him and help him settle on a thwart.
“It would not do if I lost the Prince of Antas overboard,” he said, taking a seat next to the tiller. “Let me tell you, I never imagined having you as a sailing companion.”
“I never pictured myself a fisherman’s apprentice, but your wife is persuasive,” Haille said, knowing in his heart that little persuasion had been needed.
“She is a force to be reckoned with, aye,” he said, unfurling the sail and catching a gentle breeze that carried them out to sea.
“Is it strange to have people from Chloe’s past appear out of nowhere?”
“The past is always with us, I’d say. I’m glad of her training, it has settled more than one scuffle in the tavern and I’m proud of her service.”
“And Val, what do you reckon of him?”
“A good man, an experienced adventurer, whose heart grew too big for his art.”
“He went soft, at least that is what he fears,” Haille said. “I heard him say as much to Chloe last night.”
“I’d say he did, but saved himself in the process. What are most warriors left with but nightmares and emptiness in the end? Val can at least say he fought for life and truly protected those who were in need of it.”
“I guess I had not looked at it that way.”
“Val realized who his family was, the men and women around him, and realized he could not risk them anymore, especially when those handing down orders became morally lost. That was what Chloe said to me. I’d expect as much from a man who had searched for the ‘right’ fight all his life, to protect life rather than destroy it. It’s what sets Chloe apart, too. I love her for it. Here, help me with these,” Gunther said, handing Haille a tangle of nets.
They did not leave sight of the shore which was a relief to Haille, the Sunchime being a small craft. The eastern sky was lightening with dawn when they reached the fishing grounds and Gunther cast the nets over the side. There was waiting after that. Even though there was bait to prepare, Haille nodded off, rocked into a doze by the gentle rhythm of the waves and wind. Sapphire, perched on top of the mast, tucked her head under her wing and slept as well.
Haille startled awake when the wind picked up and the Sunchime tipped against a sizable wave. He caught himself on the gunwale.
“Good morning. Did you have a fine sleep?” Gunther smiled.
“I did. Sorry I have not been much help so far.”
“Well, pull this net in with me and we’ll call it even.”
The net was heavy with its catch and Haille was afraid the tiny boat would capsize as they hauled the shining silver fish aboard. But Gunther proved to be an able seaman and kept the ship steady. They dumped the catch into barrels next to the mast.
“Not a bad catch,” Gunther said, slapping the side of the barrels.
Haille was relieved when Gunther brought out a bag of raisin bread and cold tea for breakfast. His stomach had been growling painfully, but he was unsure if it would have been rude to complain. After all, he did not want to seem like a spoiled royal, even if he had slept through most of the morning. The food invigorated him and he helped more on the next hauls, anticipating where he would be needed, moving in sync with Gunther in order to keep the boat from capsizing. They filled the first barrel and the second halfway before casting the net once more.
By now the sun was up over the
horizon and sparkling on the water. Here on the sea in the gusting breeze, under a clear blue sky of late autumn, it was hard to believe there was strife anywhere in the kingdoms, the realm, and the wider world. While they waited on the next catch Gunther began a song, a ballad about an audacious young man who sought to impress a princess by capturing death. But once death was captured and trapped in chains, the world turned to chaos: butchered animals would not die; vegetables would not cook but instead bloomed in pots of hot water; with eternity drawing out interminably before them, people became lethargic and apathetic. Gunther cut the song short when he realized the nets were full and Haille stepped towards the gunwale to help again.
The last barrel filled and the sun two hand-widths from the horizon, Gunther leaned on the tiller and turned them back to Pinky’s Port. Haille found himself wondering what happened to the audacious suitor who had deigned to capture death. Gunther smiled. “He wed the princess, but not without first releasing death and being humbled.”
Haille wondered if this was the opening to speak of lore, magic, and other things of the occult that were so forbidden in Antas but tolerated in Karrith. He listened as the waves slapped against the boat, the sail snapped in the breeze, and fish flopped in the barrel.
“Gunther, how did you know you had the gift . . . for magic?”
“Quite by accident really. My mother said I was charming the contents out of goblets and flagons even as a child, drawing up water spouts into the air and trying to catch them with my hands. I barely remember it except for my mother scolding me not to do so when I was in public. So afraid was I, I never did after that. I nearly forgot I had the talent until one day when I was older, seven or so, and my younger sister fell face down into a rain barrel. She could not get out and I was too small to reach over and pull her out. I grew desperate. Then, just when I was on the edge of panic, the barrel exploded from within, water rushing out, blasting the staves apart. My sister sat coughing in the midst of what was left of the barrel. For me, I was old enough to realize the water had obeyed me, that it was obedient to my will.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Not unheard of though. It is not unusual for some with the gift to have an element they are more dominant with, earth, wind, water, or fire. For me it was water and wind a close second. This being Karrith there was less need for me to hide my gifts. I could do illusions to entertain, but I lacked real teachers of magic.”
“You didn’t travel abroad to seek them?”
“Never had the chance, not yet at least. So I practice myself. I’m making slow progress.”
It was now or never, Haille thought. He put a hand on the gunwale to steady himself and recounted what he had seen in the tunnel leading to the Font of Jasmeen, how Sade had conjured flame from his fingertips, and how Haille had diverted the gush of flames around him by repeating some of Sade’s own words.
“Splendid!” Gunther said, leaning forward as if forgetting the tiller altogether, when Haille finished. “Have you ever had any indications that you had the gift before?”
“No, not really,” Haille said, surprised at how easily he spoke of it now, how eager he had been to share his secret.
“Here,” Gunther said, moving to sit beside Haille on the thwart. “Repeat after me.” He cleared his throat, when he spoke, his voice was clear, his cadence almost a chant. “Magzeen morphus luum . . .”
“Magzeen morphus luum . . .”
“Albreith trulet.”
“Albrieth trulet.”
“Then the binding word is ‘nyne.’”
“Nyne.”
The Sunchime rocked forward as a breeze filled the sail and they bounced over the waves as if pulled by horses. Sapphire fluttered off the mast, losing her balance in the sudden onrush of wind. She twirled and tweeted in the air overhead. Haille grabbed hold of the thwart and gunwale.
“Did I do that?”
“You did! You did!”
They rode the “zephyr” as Gunther called it for a few more minutes before he calmed it with a wide sweep of his hands and a short chant under his breath as they neared the shore. “We don’t want to catch the attention of the other fishermen.”
“Of course,” Haille said. The drowsiness of the morning was gone, and his head was racing with the possibilities and mysteries of magic. Unfortunately, he kept coming back to the same sobering realization: magic was outlawed in Antas, by his own ancestor. Where would he learn? Who would he learn from? As a king’s son, was there anything he could do? He asked as much aloud.
“Try and change things,” Gunther said. “After all, you are royalty.”
He had not given it much thought, had not even considered himself someone people might listen to. After all he was the freakish, crippled prince. But Gunther went on, “I’m sure the elves would like it much if an ancestor of Hillary Hillbourne tried to fix the lies and deceit he was known for.”
“Yes, maybe they would,” Haille said, Veolin’s face coming to mind.
They each rode in silence, occupied with their own thoughts as they approached the docks. Haille experienced a sinking feeling in his gut that was not from the rocking of the waves when he saw a stout man waiting on the pier for them. He had a feather pinned to his lapel, and his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him waited a half dozen men, many of which Haille recognized from the brawl the night before, including Konrad, the chain connecting nose ring to earring gleaming like a golden smile.
“Uh oh,” Gunther said, righting the tiller. He called out to the man with the feathered lapel, “Mister Brisbee, what a pleasure. What brings you quayside today?”
“This writ,” he said, unrolling a piece of parchment covered in long lines of swirling writing. “Your payments on the loan for your boat are overdue.”
Gunther stood upright as he could in the stern of the Sunchime and handed the mooring line to Haille, who jumped to the dock and heaved the boat against the wooden pylons.
“Mister Bisbee,” Gunther said, dabbing at the sweat beading on his forehead, “my payments are due on the last day of the month.”
“That has changed, all payments are due on the first now. So you are late.”
Some of the men behind Bisbee chuckled.
“You know with the unrest in the south all businesses are feeling the strain,” Gunther said.
“You’ve still been catching fish each day.”
“And giving half of what I catch to refugees.”
“The bank does not deal in charity,” Bisbee said, snapping his fingers. One of the hired men behind him shoved Haille aside, took the mooring line of the Sunchime, and held it steady as the others stepped into the wobbling craft.
“This is property of the bank now,” Bisbee said.
“And this is for the bitch wife of yours,” Konrad said, punching Gunther in the gut then shoving him overboard. Gunther hit the water with a splash that attracted the attention of his fellow fishermen who were bringing in their catch.
“What are you looking at?” Bisbee spat. “Be that a lesson to any and all of you who are late on your payments and decide to be charitable!”
Gunther bobbed in the harbor, wiping his face of water or tears, or both. Cast away from the Sunchime, Haille had not even a rope to throw Gunther’s way, so he simply walked along the pier as Gunther stroked towards shore. He didn’t stop at the shore nor did Gunther turn towards home. Instead he sloshed out of the shallows and walked down the beach in the opposite direction, his feet trailing in the surf.
But Haille realized at that moment they had bigger problems on their hands. A crowd had gathered in a crescent around the end of the pier, watching the humiliation unfold. The faces were not without sympathy, but it was one face that Haille recognized that caused him to turn and run back to the Bird and the Baby.
Haille bounded up the steps of the tavern, pushed aside the sailcloth curtain, and called out to Balthazar who was wiping down the tables, “Where is Chloe? Where is Val?”
“You look like you
’ve seen a ghost, boy.”
“I need to find them right now.”
“Well you are lucky, they both are out back practicing with those staffs of theirs.”
Haille raced down the back hall, past the heat of the kitchen where he glanced to see Cody sitting and talking to Mistie as she stirred some stew over the fire.
“Whoa, there young man,” Cody said, but Haille was already halfway down the hall following the click-clack of the battle staffs.
Val and Chloe were engaged in a furious sparring match, Chloe with her redwood staff, Val with his yew from the elves. Their jerkins were dotted with sweat and the grass flattened beneath their feet from their own circling steps. Katlyn was keeping score with a piece of chalk and a slate tablet.
“Chloe, a man named Bisbee just took the Sunchime from Gunther, said he was late on payments.
Chloe stopped, her staff coming to a halt beside her, her hand making a fist. “Where is Gunther?”
“At the shore, I’ll show you.”
“Let’s go.” She started into the tavern house but before Haille followed he turned to Val. “Val, I think I saw Victor Twenge.”
“What?”
“At the docks, too.”
“Victor Twenge, how could he have followed you?” Chloe asked from the steps, pulling on her cloak.
“I never reckoned him crazy enough to follow us through the forest, but perhaps he did.”
“If he’s about, it’s best you stay here. Prince Haille, please take me to my husband.”
Chloe and Haille ran down to the quayside, pressing through a gathering crowd near the docks. Haille was grateful for it, for it made hiding all the easier. The throngs had collected when a sail had appeared on the horizon belonging to a ship of considerable size. “It can only mean it’s the latest ship from Karrith City,” Chloe said.
“Bringing goods to trade?”
“Or more refugees, but definitely news,” she said, pulling the edges of her cloak down around her face.
“Are you afraid of Victor Twenge?” Haille asked, taking two steps for every one of Chloe’s.