by Ted Neill
“He’s no friend of the order and if he remembers Val, he’ll remember me.”
Haille pushed through the mass of people. In a small port, in a time of unrest, the arrival of a ship brought out the whole town. Longshoremen lined up for a chance to unload goods and make a day’s wage. Market sellers wheeled their carts from the market square to the quayside. Women waited with expectant faces while children climbed trees, stood atop pylons, and huddled in windowsills, anywhere they could get a peek at the going-ons.
With such a crowd, the lone figure kneeling on the edge of the surf, his head dropped to his chest, seemed all the more lonely. As soon as Haille pointed Gunther out, Chloe overtook him, her steps throwing up rooster tails of sand. By the time Haille caught up, she was standing beside her husband, his head against her hips, his face wet with tears.
“I have failed us,” he wept.
“You have not. You have been an upright man in a time of uncertainty—”
“I cannot even provide. Our debts have overcome us.”
“We still have the tavern.”
“How long?” he said, looking up to her, his eyes filmed over. He nodded at the ship now pulling up to dock. Its name, the Tameramb, was painted in red letters on its hull. “This is the first ship in weeks. They used to come every day. Our own clients can’t pay us except to run up their own debts.”
“We will find a way. We always have,” she said, smoothing the hair on his head.
“What, with my magic? I can’t even succeed as a fisherman, much less a mage. What good were tricks and illusions when they tossed me from my own ship?” His voice caught. “My life is worth nothing, but for you.”
“Don’t say that,” she said now, kneeling in the sand herself. “You are the best man I have ever met with a heart that brings light to my own.”
“Then what will we do?”
“We’ll think of something.”
They remained in an embrace a long time, Gunther unbothered by the cold and his wet clothes. It was Chloe who finally suggested they return home where they could change and sit by the fire.
Haille followed, but at a distance, sensing that this was a sacrosanct time for husband and wife. Instead he kept alert, looking for Twenge. The bounty hunter was not hard to find, for he moved through the crowd with a cadre of armed men. Some of them were the men that had accosted them in the ravine, but their numbers were fewer. Haille wondered if indeed Twenge had followed them through the forest and if he had lost some men in the process.
Haille ran to catch up with Chloe and Gunther. He moved against the flow in the street as the refugees were filtering down through the town to catch what news they could from the arrival of the Tameramb. Only a few evening patrons were not lured by the ship and were already gathered around the tables eating bread and stew when Haille pushed through the sail cloth curtain into the warm dimness of the tavern. Gunther was already next to the fire, Mistie helping him out of his sodden boots. Chloe was in the corner, her head lowered as she spoke to Balthazar. Val, Cody, and Katlyn were gathered around Gunther, their faces drawn.
“Did you see Victor?” Val asked.
“Yes, it was him. He has some men with him, but not as many as before,” Haille said.
Val clicked his tongue and rubbed the stubble on his cheeks. Gunther was shivering. Mistie put a blanket around his shoulders and excused herself to get him some warm cider. Gunther explained to Val and Cody what had happened. Val listened with a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were already trying to plan an escape. When Gunther finished, Val opened his mouth to speak, but Chloe had stepped in between them.
“Prepare your things Val. You leave tomorrow.”
“I understand.” He nodded, although he could not hide the look of disappointment on his face.
“No, I don’t think you do,” Chloe said. “We’re coming with you.”
Now it was Val’s turn to look surprised, his brow furrowed. “But on what ship? They took the Sunchime.”
“Don’t be silly. The ship that just pulled into port, the Tameramb.”
“Surely it is not ours. We don’t even know the captain.”
“We don’t have to—to steal it.”
Chapter 24
Enter Karrith
A thistle twisted in the air, landed between the ears of Gail’s pony, and teetered on the edge of falling before she snatched it between her fingers. Her first instinct was to place it behind her ear, but on second thought, she decided that was too feminine. Instead she slipped it behind the strap of her baldric across her chest as she had seen other Antan soldiers doing as they marched under the rain of blossoms entering the city of Karrith.
The city itself was different than she had expected. She had only seen one other capital and its citadel—Antas—but Karrith was impressive in its own right. Nothing had stood in the way of its expansion—no hills, rivers, or forests. It was surrounded by rolling plains and plowed fields. So instead of growing up, Karrith had grown out, a city of one- and two-story buildings that sprawled without order. The borders were defined by a wall that was thicker than it was high and marked at intervals with stout drum towers. The buildings within the city walls were built of stone, brick, and on the outskirts, humble sod, as timber was scarce in the southern kingdom and reserved for furniture, doors, railings, and banisters.
The castle, sitting on a gentle rise in the center of the city, was much like the rest of Karrith, wide and flat. Gail felt that she could toss a rock up and over the ramparts. At its gate, she could see the thickness of the walls through the long tunnel where King Oean and Queen Amberlyn rode through, their heads gleaming with crowns, their bodies glittering with precious stones, their embroidered cloaks draped over the hindquarters of their horses. They were a great contrast to the road-weary, dusty Talamar and his generals, but the king of Antas and his men had a panache of their own, riding up the avenues to the castle courtyard to the cheers of the people, the rain of flowers, and young maidens stretching out from the thronging crowds to steal kisses from knights, nobles, even the humble infantry man.
It rankled Gail no small amount. One would think they had vanquished their foes, when the opposite had been true: since their defeat in the canyon, the Maurvant had eluded them, limiting themselves to a few night raids. As a result, the generals had grown cautious. Instead of fighting a guerrilla war, they chose to consolidate numbers with the Karrithian army and force the Maurvant to face them in the open.
“I don’t like this,” Gail said, riding alongside Darid.
“The festival atmosphere? The people are grateful their brothers from the north have come to their aid,” he said, unable to suppress the joy on his face at arriving home.
“Our enemy has proved cunning and now we let them know exactly where we are.”
“We have the high ground,” he said, a daisy brushing past his shoulder.
Gail snorted, watching the daisy drift down to be trampled by horse hooves. “High ground might matter to traditional foes but the Maurvant are barbarians, not gentlemen.”
“True that,” Darid said, his smile fading. “You’ve been better at anticipating their moves than the king’s generals, but nothing is going to dissuade the old men from the advantage of fighting from a fortified city.”
She knew Darid was right. Her instincts had saved them once but it was hard to argue with the established practice of warfare, or the desperate cries of the Karrithians, no less King Oean himself who had pleaded for reinforcements in the city.
And so they had come, King Talamar leading. One would not have even suspected that he still recovered from his wound, posting high in his saddle as he rode up alongside King Oean. The kings clenched their hands together and held them high above their heads, north and south, young and old, in a bold display of unity. The crowd roared. Soldiers beat their shields. Steel flashed in the sunlight.
“It’s nothing but show,” Gail said.
“It is what kings do.”
“Cheers and f
lowers won’t keep them safe when the Maurvant attack.”
“No, we will,” Darid said, studying the low slung walls of the castle with a discerning eye. “These walls are low.”
“My thoughts exactly. What will we do?”
Darid rubbed the stubble on his face with the palm of his hand. “We will build.”
Chapter 25
The Tameramb
Haille woke with a start, Chloe’s face next to his.
“Wake up, don’t say a word, do exactly as I say.”
Haille pushed himself up, reluctant to leave the warmth of his bed, but Chloe’s voice was firm with an edge of urgency to it. She was dressed for travel, her body wrapped in a cloak, a satchel slung over her shoulder, and her battle staff strapped to her back. Her hands were covered in fingerless gloves, her wrists wrapped in leather arm guards. She shook Katlyn, who was asleep in the bed across from Haille and delivered the same instructions.
“Both of you get dressed,” Chloe said, tossing their tunics and cloaks to them.
“What is going on?” Katlyn asked in the smallest of whispers.
“Victor Twenge and his men are outside, seems like they have done their work quickly.”
“What about Val and Cody?”
“They are at the ship with Gunther. We need to join them.”
She stopped in the hallway, listened for a beat, then waved at them both to follow her. Haille did his best, still in the process of yanking on his boots, his cloak under his arm, his tunic in his teeth. Katlyn was ready quicker than he, and helped him tie his laces and throw on his cloak. When Haille realized he had left his rucksack behind, he turned to get it, only to have Katlyn hand him his.
“Good thing you were thinking for both of us,” Haille said, slipping the strap over his shoulder.
“Quiet,” Chloe said. “Balthazar can only delay so long, but I have a feeling that the back way is already covered by Twenge’s men.”
“Then how do we get out?” Katlyn asked.
Chloe looked to the dormer window. It was still early and fog pressed against the glass. She marched to the end of the hall, turned the latch, and swung open the window. “We’ll take the high road.”
They tiptoed across the floorboards, hopped onto the sill one at a time, and slipped onto the slope of the roof. The shingles were slate and shiny with moisture. Chloe motioned to them to be careful, but three stories up they hardly needed the reminder. They side-stepped from one shingle to the next with delicate care, their hands locked with one another. Haille could hear Balthazar as he spoke to someone just outside the door of the tavern. Haille didn’t dare peek over the edge to look down on the street for fear of falling or being spotted. Balthazar’s voice carried to him easily in the air thick with fog.
“You don’t have the sheriff with you. I don’t see why I need to let the lot of you inside. We’re not open yet.”
“Maybe you don’t understand. I don’t need a sheriff,” a smooth voice that Haille recognized as Twenge’s replied. “My authority far outstrips his.”
“Maybe in Antas, but this is Karrith.”
“Still subject to the rule of the High Council of Anthor in Carasans.”
“Carasans is far away and we’re at war here. How do I know you are not imposters?”
While Balthazar argued the finer points of geography, politics, and wartime jurisdiction they sidled to the edge of the roof. A gap of a few feet yawned between the tavern house and the next building over, its roof one of red clay tiles. Haille looked upon them with relief, hoping their grainy surfaces would be less slick than the slate they balanced on presently.
Though reaching them across the gap complicated matters. It was a space of a few feet but with the drop into the alleyway and the snooping bounty hunters below, it might as well have been a chasm of a hundred buildings. Undaunted, Chloe made the leap, dropping to her hands and knees and steadying herself with a hand reached out to the corner of the house’s chimney. Once she had found her balance, she turned to Haille and Katlyn.
“Hurry, I will grab you.”
“Haille, you go first,” Katlyn said, her eyes peering into the gap and the drop below.
“You’ll have to let go of my arm.”
“Sorry.” She gave a nervous, small laugh and released him, settling herself down to her haunches on the slippery tiles.
Without the means for a running start, Haille swung his arms for added force, bent his knees, and jumped. There was a terrible moment when he floated unattached to either house, the space of the alleyway open under him, but halfway over he realized he had enough momentum to carry him across. It would just be landing that was a challenge. He crashed onto the tiles with none of the grace Chloe had exhibited, but the surface was indeed gritty and he had traction immediately. Chloe’s grip was firm on his shoulders as she took fistfuls of his cloak. She helped him to the peak of the roof where he straddled either side, his hands on the chimney.
“Now you,” Chloe said to Katlyn.
Katlyn moved to the edge by inches, her hands trembling. “I don’t like heights,” she said, her lips crimped into a fine line.
“Don’t look down, look at me. It’s not far at all. Just like leaping a creek or onto a boat.”
“I can swim better than I can fly,” Katlyn said, edging closer. The voices outside the front door of the tavern grew louder. Chloe softened her voice and tilted her head, yet Haille could see her knuckles turn white where she clung to the chimney.
“Come on, Katlyn, I know you can do this.”
Katlyn let out a small cry and made the jump all at once. She landed with a thump on top of the clay tiles and let out a loud sigh. Chloe leaned forward to reach out her hand. At the same time a tile cracked under Katlyn’s foot and her leg slid out from beneath her. The shard tumbled off the edge of the roof, Katlyn sliding after it. Chloe stretched herself prone across the rooftop and arrested Katlyn’s fall, grabbing hold of her rucksack. While Katlyn’s feet dangled over the eaves, both of them began to slide until Haille took Chloe’s ankle in his hands and braced himself with his legs.
“Climb,” Chloe said through clenched teeth. Katlyn flailed with her arms until she could wrap her fingers around Chloe’s forearm, then her shoulder, as she clawed her way up the length of her body. Finally, she leaned her back up against the chimney next to Haille as he reached down to help Chloe up. Her hand was slick with sweat, the front of her cloak stained with muddy red dust from the tiles, but she soon sat safely beside them.
“Well, that was exhilarating,” she said before starting up across the spine of the roof. Haille gave Katlyn’s shoulder a quick squeeze and let her follow Chloe ahead of him.
The next building was a story shorter and the thatch roof a gentle pitch. The jump was easier to negotiate and the thatch the softest landing yet. Haille was more afraid that the roof might cave beneath them than he was of losing his footing and falling off. The three of them crawled on all fours to the closest dormer window which Chloe rapped on loudly. A sleepy-eyed woman, her hair still covered for the night, pushed open the pane.
“Chloe Amberson, what are you doing on my roof?”
“Sorry to trouble you Cynthia. Some unsavory characters in the tavern. We had to take the roof out. Can we come in?”
“By all means!”
Chloe helped them negotiate the sill. Haille set his feet down on the floorboards with a hearty thank you to Chloe, Cynthia, and to the gods. Cynthia’s husband stood in the doorway agog, wearing his sleeping garb.
“Morning Henry, thank you for the assist,” Chloe said, passing him on her way to the steps.
They tramped down the stairs to the first floor. Chloe turned to them just before she opened the door. “Now walk, don’t run. Our escape depends upon looking natural. Walk to the pier as if it’s just another morning and you’re off to do errands with your mother. I’ll be right behind you.”
She turned the knob and opened the front door before they could even respond. Haille and Katlyn
stepped out, hooking their thumbs beneath the straps of their rucksacks and walking with as casual an air as possible down the street towards the harbor. Haille chanced a look at the tavern where in the fog he could make out a line of figures pushing their way past Balthazar into the Bird and the Baby. He drew his hood up around his face while Chloe descended the steps behind them, a basket borrowed from Cynthia hanging from the crook in her arm. The three of them were the picture of the village family setting out for morning chores even if they were a bit early. Haille felt calmer once they had turned the corner and were out of sight from the tavern. One of the jays swooped down to land on his shoulder.
“Azure, get to Adamantus, we’re headed for the ship,” Haille said.
The jay let out a tremolo that Haille hoped was an affirmative one, before flying off. Chloe rounded the corner after them, set down the basket, bunched the edges of her cloak in her fists and said, “Now move like you mean it.”
Their feet splashed through muddy streets, over broken cobblestones, and finally the boards of the pier itself. The Tameramb was moored at the far end of the dock over the deepest water, the shape of its hull outlined in the fog. The boards were crowded with the barrels and boxes that had been unloaded the night before—among them they found the captain and three crew members tied and bound. Cody carried a fourth—also bound and gagged—on his shoulder down the plank of the gangway while Val made apologies to the captain.
“Our deepest regrets, sir. But we are commandeering the ship on official business of the crown. I give you my word that it shall be returned and recompense paid.”
“That’s a big promise,” Cody said, setting the fourth crewman down against a barrel. “I say they’re lucky we just don’t kill them.”
As the eyes of the bound sailors grew wide, Chloe make a tsking sound with her mouth. “You have not changed at all have you?” She patted the captain on the shoulder. “Don’t believe a word he says. But his word is gold,” she said, pointing to Val.
The boards rang out with the sound of running feet. Figures were approaching from the shore, armed with axes, swords, and spears.