Chapter 33
The restless seas did little to hamper the boat's progress. Thjorn had sailed worse. Maybe not this far out. Still, he had little concern for the danger. He'd glyphed the vessel.
It had taken a day to prepare the glyphs to his satisfaction, even on a vessel this small. He'd set glyphs to allow him to propel the vessel without need for sails or oars, at a greater speed than would otherwise be possible, and reinforced the hull to endure the stresses of such speeds. The reinforcement had taken most of the time. It was better done on a new boat. The hull already displayed signs of wear, and that would get worse at the speeds he was travelling. It should last him to his destination and back.
Most vessels this size wouldn't be glyphed, being used only for short distance travel or fishing, where speed wasn't required.
Larger commercial vessels tended to be heavily glyphed to aid their speed and protect against the elements. Of course larger vessels also tended to be owned, directly or indirectly, by the guilds. Mainly the Alliance, who’d recognised the value of improving supply routes. Stealing one would have been too conspicuous – even for him – and buying one would have offended his pride.
With their improvements the ocean had become the main transportation route between port cities, proving more reliable than roads. This inevitably damaged the business interests of landlocked cities, and made the seas near civilised lands busy. Once he’d cleared the trading lanes, there had only been the occasional fisherman, and they didn’t venture out as far as he had.
At least the journey allowed him time to think, the dullness of the tasks requiring little mental focus. The fiasco at the mines had cast a modicum of doubt over his plan, preventing him confirming the design of the binding glyphs. It wasn't as though he doubted the glyph would work, even if it didn't match the old ones, but he'd wanted to ensure it succeeded in the same way.
He'd continue regardless. Events were already in motion. All he could do was focus on the plan. And account for the change of resources.
This would be a simple diplomacy mission, so he shouldn't have trouble. All he needed to do was convince them to do as he wanted. He'd have to avoid manipulating the old bastard, since he was cannier than he looked. That canniness meant he could be reasoned with, far easier than many of his countrymen.
Thjorn started to turn and make a comment regarding Augni's distaste of their destination when he remembered he was alone. Not the first time he'd nearly made that mistake in the past days, he still cursed himself for the slip. He'd become so used to having someone around. Still, he'd been fine on his own before Augni, and he'd do fine without him. He had his mission.
Besides, Augni had proved unreliable. He couldn't afford random elements, not with everything on schedule.
His thoughts focussed as Elinar came into view. A lawless land of raiders and monsters, uncivilised and beyond hope of civility, according to common regard. Basically what the other lands had been before glyphs had civilised them.
Not that the place was the cesspool of violence and depravity many believed. While certainly savage in raiding other lands – and even each other – their villages were similar to those in civilised lands for the most part. They simply lacked the technological advancements.
While he'd undoubtedly be regarded with suspicion, he wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked on sight. Which made it more civilised than some cities. They lived by rules of hospitality which would see him treated as an honoured guest, as long as he caused no offence.
It took half an hour to recognise the coastline and determine where he needed to be, and a short while of slicing through the quieter waters near land to travel there.
The village came into view as he rounded an outstretched arm of land, and he slowed his approach. He was spotted almost as soon as he came into view, gaining a small audience of hastily armed men on what he'd generously call a dock.
While a few larger warships were moored further along the coast – looking of limited seaworthiness – the docks held smaller boats. Some would barely be considered canoes. They looked like they might float. With that much patching all he could say for sure was that they’d had rudimentary maintenance.
He maintained a steady approach. While they’d be wary of retaliation for their depredations abroad, one man in a boat hardly justified a call to arms. They appeared content to watch.
The boat glided gently into a mooring under his precise control, and he set it to remain there before turning to his audience.
'I'm here to see Gulmaer,' he said.
After an exchange of glances, one nodded for him to follow. Another offered a hand to tie up the boat, and Thjorn threw him the rope. Unnecessary with its glyphs, but there was no point encouraging interest in the vessel. Hospitality and wariness of glyphs may discourage them, but it wouldn't be unexpected for someone to try stealing it. While he'd made the glyph controls unintelligible to anyone but him, he'd rather not have anyone poking about and possibly damaging her.
The guide led him wordlessly through the village. He drew a few stares, and some children ran after them until called away.
Resisting the urge to watch his back took some doing. Why? He wasn't usually jumpy. Was his mind telling him something? It wasn't usually so oblique. If he was in trouble, it was unlikely he'd be able to do much about it, so he'd be better off with a casual attitude.
He took in the changes since his last visit, a good few winters ago. Most buildings had an aged appearance, both in style and materials. They were a combination of stone and wood, with thatched roofs. Few had more than one floor, but they looked sturdy, well maintained, and lived in.
The path led them to the centre of the village, and an ostentatiously decorated house. A bit gaudy if he were honest, and unmistakably where he wanted to be.
His guide nodded for him to wait while he went in. Some grunting and barked questions drifted out before he emerged, followed by a half-dressed monstrosity.
Rotund would be a polite way to describe him, if solid, with plenty of muscle despite his age. The balance of grey and yellow in his hair had shifted over the winters, with yellow completely abandoning the lice colony hanging from his face.
He regarded his visitor for a long moment with a steely gaze. 'Thjorn,' he grunted at last.
'Gulmaer, son of Hrolf,' Thjorn said in a formal tone, with a slight bow. The social niceties never hurt. Well, not often. Okay they stretched his patience to a violent edge, but they could be useful, and Gulmaer appreciated his position as chieftain being recognised by outsiders.
Gulmaer's face split into a wide grin, and he started forward with arms wide. With little option, Thjorn endured the embrace, remembering to inhale before he got close. He hadn't thought to change clothes into something disposable. He'd just have to burn these later.
'Gutririr,' Gulmaer said to the guide. 'Announce a feast tonight in my guest's honour.'
Gutririr's face showed little enthusiasm for task or feast. He nodded and left.
'It is good to see you in such health,' said Gulmaer.
'And you still alive,' said Thjorn.
Gulmaer erupted in laughter. 'I fully intend to outlive the mountains and the seas, until there is nothing left to eat.'
'You look to be well on your way.'
'And your tongue is as unforgiving as ever. Come, sit and share my wine.'
He called a passing man to fetch chairs from inside his house. The man did so with reluctance. They'd had years to get used to their chieftain, so the man should have known better than to pass this close to his house.
Soon seated, he let Gulmaer lead the conversation with the small talk which seemed required by diplomatic niceties. Basically about what they'd been up to since last meeting. Both offered vague, inconsequential answers. It took a while before Gulmaer's ramblings left an opening.
'You must tell me what news there is from civilised lands,' said Gulmaer. 'We hear so little these days.'
'Oh, I doubt that,' said Thjorn. 'You pro
bably know more than most.'
Gulmaer looked confused, barely hiding the calculating expression as he tried to work out what his guest knew. 'Hardly, hardly. We're isolated. Why, we barely even raid anymore.'
'Glyphed arms and armour spoiling your fun?'
'Everyone hires Society fighters these days,' Gulmaer moaned. 'It's as though they don't want to play.'
'Still you must get news with your shipments,' said Thjorn.
'Shipments?' he just about managed a look of innocent confusion.
'Of the arvinim you're selling the Society.'
'Arvinim. Us. Whatever makes you think such a thing?' His sly smile wasted no time on denial.
'The other lands have been scoured for any traces over the centuries. It's unlikely a new source of any size could be found there. Elinar hasn't had such close attention. It's the only logical source.'
'Us? Miners? We're sea-faring folk. Do you truly believe we’d venture below ground?'
'If there's something of value there? Yes. Besides, you have farmers, don't you? It's all just working the land. Of course, you could deny it.'
'Lie to an honoured guest? How could you suggest such a thing?' He broke into another wide smile. 'Knowing you, I'd imagine this information would become known to all should anything untoward befall you.'
'You believe I'd insult your hospitality with such a slight?' Of course he'd taken precautions.
'I will countenance no such slur on your character, my friend,' said Gulmaer. Practically a guarantee of safe passage.
'I can't imagine such a metal would be of use to you, but in trade it would be profitable. I do wonder what you'd trade it for. With your land providing for most of your needs, the only things I can't see you getting elsewhere would be glyphs. Probably on arms and armour.'
'Bah. Arms certainly, but armour? Who wants their movements constrained when fighting for their life?'
'And what do you want them for?'
'We are still raiders,' said Gulmaer. 'With these we might be able to get back to that.'
'You don't have to,' said Thjorn. 'Glyphs offer more than that. I know you want more for your people.'
'It's what they want,' said Gulmaer, his smile dipping. 'I bring in the occasional other glyph to improve their lives in small ways. Small enough that they'll grudgingly accept them. It should give them a taste, maybe overcome the aversion we've developed for such things, but...' his voice trailed off.
'You're still raiders.'
'For now.' His gaze remained on Thjorn, penetrating his thoughts. 'You've lost something recently, my friend.'
That caught him off guard. Gulmaer often proved irritatingly perceptive. Thjorn resisted his natural impulse towards sarcasm or deflection. He couldn't risk alienating his host, so should probably be honest. Or at least not lie.
'A plan failed.'
'That can be frustrating,' said Gulmaer.
'There are always unexpected factors. Occasionally one throws everything out of line. One little thing goes wrong and the whole structure collapses.'
'You got out before it did, though.'
'As soon as the situation changes you work out what it'll do down the road. If you see a collapse ahead, you abandon the plan. Rushing to fix things leaves you with too fragile a structure.'
Gulmaer nodded. 'A good plan is always useful. Something you can rely on. Everyone should have a good plan by their side.'
Thjorn met Gulmaer's gaze, unable to read it.
'It's not a thing to lose lightly,' said Gulmaer. 'Not for someone like you.'
'Like me?'
'Thjorn, I enjoy your wit and unwillingness to bend to anyone. But if you lived next door to me I'd take my axe to you within a moon. Some claimed similar of me in my wild youth, so I know how difficult it can be to find something to stand beside you through life.'
Thjorn smiled what he hoped was his agreement. Not entirely sure by this point what he was agreeing with.
Plans were tools. If strong to begin with, and well maintained, you could rely on them. People, even those you trusted, couldn't necessarily be relied on. Maybe if he treated them more like tools... But that was what the enemy did.
Fighting a war, reliability was more use than trustworthiness. His strategies would decide his success.
Admittedly, his plans could only be as smart as he was. Fortunately, that was very smart. He knew he had blind spots, which Augni had helped fill, but he could compensate.
He was better off alone. With events culminating he could do without unpredictability. As much as he might want the reassurance of having his back watched, it wasn't worth the cost.
All he needed was a good plan.
And to be able to ignore the certainty that missing Augni came from no intellectual basis, and couldn't be reasoned away. There were times when being so smart was irritating.
'So,' said Gulmaer. 'Why did you come here? I doubt you'd have travelled this distance simply to sate your curiosity. What is it you require?'
'A favour.'
'A favour? And would this favour entitle me to anything in recompense? Or were you just thinking of your silence in regards...'
'I have a few glyphs which may be of interest. Including martial ones I doubt the Society would have shared.'
Gulmaer nodded. 'And what would the favour be?'
'I require permission to draw some glyphs on your land. And I want you to attend a meeting.'