Mardus offered the man a bemused smile. “Well, they were a bad pair, just as you say, and I suppose I’m well rid of them. Many thanks.”
Tossing a final coin to the innkeeper, he went out to the yard where his men stood ready.
“Have you any doubts now, my lord?” Ashnazai whispered, trembling with suppressed rage.
“It seems they’ve eluded us once again,” Mardus mused, tapping a gloved finger thoughtfully against his chin.
“He should have been dead a week ago! No one could survive—”
Mardus smiled thinly. “Come now, Vargûl Ashnazai, even you must see that these are no ordinary thieves we are pursuing.”
Casting an approving eye over the empty country surrounding the crossroads inn, he turned to the group of armed men. “Captain Tildus!”
“Sir?”
Mardus inclined his head slightly toward the inn. “Kill everyone, then burn it.”
14
SAILING SOUTH
Alec felt like cheering aloud as the mainland slipped under the horizon their first day out. The sheer emptiness that surrounded the ship—the endless sky, the biting cold of the wind, and frozen spume thrown up by the prow as the Grampus raced gaily along under full-bellied sails—all this seemed to cleanse him down to the bone.
He worked hard, to be sure. The sailors relegated him to the lowliest tasks, not out of any meanness but because he would not be with the ship long enough to be worth training. Though his hand was still sore and both hands were soon cracked from the salt and cold, he worked with a good will at any task he was assigned: sanding decks, hauling slops, and helping in the scullery. Whenever he could find a free moment, he went below to tend to Seregil.
Despite Alec’s diligent care, however, his companion was clearly failing. The infection was spreading across Seregil’s thin chest, and hectic fever spots bloomed over his cheekbones, giving his face its only color. A sickly odor clung about him.
Sedrish, the ship’s cook and surgeon, gave Alec what help he could, but none of his remedies seemed to have any effect.
“At least you can still get something into him,” Sedrish observed, watching Alec patiently coax a sip of broth between Seregil’s cracked lips. “There’s hope so long as he’ll drink.”
Alec was working his way through a tangled pile of rope their third day out when the captain happened by. The weather was holding fair and Talrien appeared to be in a high good humor.
“It’s too bad you’re leaving us at Rhíminee. I believe we could make a pretty passable sailor of you,” he remarked, bracing easily against the rail. “Most inlanders spend their first voyage heaving their guts over the side.”
“No problems that way,” Alec replied, brightening up a bit. “Just some trouble finding what Biny calls my ‘sea legs.’ ”
“I noticed. That first day when the swells were heavy you rolled around like a keg in the bilge. When you set foot on land again, it’ll be just as bad for a bit. That’s why sailors always head straight for the taverns, you know. You sit and drink long enough, and pretty soon you feel like you’re back on the rolling deep. Makes us feel more at home.”
Just then a cry came down from the masthead. “Land sighted, Captain!”
“We’ve made good time,” Talrien said, shading his eyes as he looked across the water. “See that dark line on the horizon? That’s the isthmus. By tomorrow morning you’ll see one of the great wonders of the world.”
Alec woke feeling queasy the next morning. The motion of the ship felt different, and he couldn’t hear waves against the hull.
“Hey, Aren,” called Biny, sticking his head down the hatchway. “Come above if you want to see something.”
On deck, Alec found they were riding at anchor in a narrow harbor. A crowd had gathered at the rail.
“What do you think of that?” Biny asked proudly.
A thin mist steamed up from the surface of the sea. The first rose-gold light of dawn shone through it, bathing the scene before them in a layer of pale, shifting fire.
Sheltering cliffs soared up out of the mists on either side of the harbor. At its head lay Cirna, a jumbled collection of square, white-plastered buildings that clung like swallow’s nests to the steep slopes above the jetties.
Catching sight of him, Talrien waved an arm. “That’s one of the oldest cities in Skala. Ships were putting in here before Ero was built. You can see the mouth of the Canal over there, to the left.”
Looking across the water, Alec saw that a huge channel had been cut through the cliffs at the head of the bay. Flanking the mouth of it were enormous pillars carved in relief. Each reached five hundred feet or more from the waterline to the top of the cliff and was surmounted by an elaborate capital. At this early hour, flames and black smoke still issued from the huge oil flares that topped them.
“How would you make anything that big?” Alec exclaimed, trying to grasp the scale of what he was seeing.
“Magic, of course,” scoffed Biny.
“And hard work,” Talrien added. “Queen Tamír the Second built it when she founded Rhíminee. They say it took a hundred wizards and a thousand workmen two years to build the Canal. Of course, that was back in the old days, when there were enough magicians about to be spared for such labor. It’s five miles from end to end, but less than three hundred feet wide. And those beacons, atop the pillars there? You can see them for miles. We steered in by them last night.” Turning, he waved a hand at the gathered crew. “Come on, you lot! We’ve got work to do.”
The Grampus carried cargo for Cirna, and they put in alongside one of the docks that jutted out from the shore. Alec saw to it that Seregil was moved to an out-of-the-way nook in the hold, then went above to watch the bustling activity on shore. At closer range he could see that the tops of the great pillars were not alike. The one on the left was carved in the form of a fish emerging from a wave. Even from across the harbor he could make out the scales on its sides, the graceful curve of the fins. The capital on the right appeared to be a stylized flame.
“Why are they different?” he asked Sedrish, shading his eyes.
“Those are the pillars of Astellus and Sakor, of course,” the cook replied as if amazed at his ignorance. “Illior and Dalna are at the other end. They say those old builders figured if they were going to muck up the natural lay of the land so, they’d better tip their caps to the gods when they got all done.”
Talrien stood at the top of the gangplank with one of the sailors, calling out cargo numbers for the man to record in the log. On the dock below, the various merchants to whom the cargo belonged kept similar track.
Alec studied them with interest. Instead of tunics, they wore long belted coats that reached below the knee and leather breeches like those that Seregil favored. Many wore broad-brimmed hats with a long colorful feather or two stuck at an angle in the band.
Another vessel was unloading at a neighboring wharf; a single glimpse of their cargo was enough to draw Alec down for a closer look. Ducking through a throng of sailors and dock hands, he joined the crowd gathering around a makeshift corral that had been roped off for the horses that were being led ashore. He’d seen plenty of horses in his life, but never the match of these.
These creatures were as tall as the black mare he’d left behind in Wolde, but not so heavily made. Their legs were long, tapering from rounded haunches to dainty hooves, and they bore their proud heads on well-arched necks. Their coats and manes had none of the rough shagginess Alec was accustomed to, but shone in the morning sun as if they’d been polished. Despite the commotion around them, the animals showed no skittishness as they milled about. Most were bays, with a few chestnuts and blacks mixed in. The one that immediately caught Alec’s fancy, however, was a glossy black stallion with a white mane and tail.
“They’re something, ain’t they?” Biny remarked, appearing at his elbow.
“They are that,” Alec agreed. “I’ve never seen anything like them!”
“I shouldn’t t
hink so. Them’s Aurënen horses, just come up from the south.”
“Aurënen!” Alec grabbed Biny’s arm and pointed toward the ship. “Are there any Aurënfaie there? Do you know what they look like?”
“Nah, that’s a Skalan ship. The Aurënfaie don’t come up here. Ships like that one trade in Virésse and bring the cargo—horses, jewelry, glass, and the like—back to the Three Lands to sell for theirselves.”
Virésse. Seregil had once mentioned that only one port in Aurënen was open to foreigners.
“Horses like them are only for the nobles and the rich,” Biny went on. “I heard once that the Queen herself wouldn’t never ride no other kind in battle, nor the Princess Royal, neither. And her the head of all the cavalry in Skala.”
The stallion Alec had admired came near and he couldn’t resist reaching out to it. To his delight, the beast pushed its slim head against his hand and nickered contentedly as he stroked its velvety nose and forelock. Lost as he was in admiration of the horse, it wasn’t until a gloved hand reached out to stroke the stallion’s neck that he noticed Biny and the rest of the crowd had melted back. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with a young woman as exotic as the horse itself.
Dark chestnut hair, drawn back from a sharp widow’s peak, hung in a thick braid down the back of her mud-spattered green cloak. A few strands of it had escaped to frame her heart-shaped face in soft, curling wisps. As she turned to Alec, frozen in awe beside her, he saw the startling blue of her eyes, the flush of healthy color in her cheeks. For a moment his only thought was that here stood the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And an extraordinary one at that, for instead of a gown she wore close-fitting doeskin breeches beneath a green tabard edged in white. The front of the tabard was richly embroidered with the emblem of a pair of crossed sabers supporting a crown. A heavy silver gorget at her throat flashed in the sunlight, and a long sword hung from a military baldric slung across her chest.
“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” she remarked.
“Uh, yes.” Alec hastily turned his gaze back to the horse.
“Were you thinking of buying him?” she asked as the horse leaned over the rope to rub his chin on Alec’s shoulder. “He’s certainly taken to you.”
“No! Oh, no—no, I was just looking.” Alec stepped back acutely aware of how filthy and worn his own clothing was. “I just never saw Aurënfaie horses before.”
Her sudden smile made her look girlish in spite of the sword. “I spotted him right off, but I didn’t want to buy him away from you if you’d already made up your mind.” Stroking the horse’s nose, she spoke softly to it. “What do you say, my fine fellow? Shall I take you home?”
As if in answer, the stallion snorted and pushed his head against her hand.
“I guess that settles it,” said Alec, pleased that his favorite should get such a fine mistress.
“I’d say so,” she agreed. The horse dealer had been hovering nearby and at her gesture came over to them, bowing deeply. “Your horses are as fine as ever, Master Roakas. This gentleman and I have decided that I should take the black with white. What are you asking?”
“For you, Commander, two hundred gold sesters.”
“Fair enough. Captain Myrhini has the purse.”
“Many thanks, Commander. Will that be all this time?”
“No, I still have to pick out a few for the Guard, but I wanted to grab this one before someone else did. Would you ask one of my escort to saddle him for me?” Turning back to Alec, she smiled again. “Thanks for your help. You must tell me your name.”
“Aren Silverleaf.”
Another soldier in green and white led the saddled stallion back. Swinging lightly up, she reached into the wallet at her belt.
“Silverleaf, is it? Well, good luck to you, Aren Silverleaf.” She tossed him a coin that glittered yellow as it spun through the air. He caught it deftly, hardly taking his eyes from her to do so. “Drink my health. It’ll bring me luck.”
“I will, thanks,” Alec called after her as she rode away. Turning quickly to the soldier, he asked, “She’s beautiful! Who is she?”
“You didn’t know?” the man exclaimed, looking him up and down. “That was Princess Klia, youngest daughter of the Queen. Quite a day for you, eh boy?”
The crowd surged forward to the corral again and several strangers clapped Alec on the back, envying him his brush with royalty.
Biny elbowed his way through the press. “What’s that she tossed you?”
Alec held up the gold coin. Smaller than his Skalan silver piece, it was stamped on one side with the same design of crescent moon and flame and on the reverse with the profile of a man.
“A half sester? You could drink her health for a couple of days on that!” Biny gave him a playful jab in the ribs.
“A princess!” Alec marveled, shaking his head.
“Oh, we see her all the time up here. She’s second in command of the Queen’s Horse Guard now, under her brother, and has quite an eye for the beasts. Come on, they’ve started loading already. We’d better start back.”
With their own cargo dispatched, Talrien’s crew was now stowing slender clay wine jars below deck. After these came crates of chickens that Talrien ordered lashed down amidships on deck. The rest of their voyage would be enlivened by the cackling and crowing of the birds, as well as their stink and the clouds of feathers they shed.
By late morning everything was secured and they sailed out to join the other vessels waiting to enter the Canal; ships were carefully spaced out to avoid any mishaps that might block the narrow channel. Soon after they dropped anchor, a skiff sailed up to them and a stout little man in a greasy slouch hat climbed aboard. Talrien spoke briefly with the harbor master and paid out the tariffs for anchorage and passage. When he’d gone, Talrien waved Alec over.
“One-hour wait,” he said. “Tell Sedrish to get a meal up, will you?”
Alec relayed the message, then took hot water and some broth down to Seregil. By the time he came up again, several of the ships ahead of them had passed into the Canal’s dark opening. A bright mirror flash came from the heights near the top of the Astellus column and the stout galley moored next to them hauled anchor, unfurled a single sail, and glided off into the dark cleft.
At last the lookout called down, “There’s our signal, Captain!”
“That’s it, men!” Talrien shouted. “Break out the oars and stand to your locks.”
While the anchor was being raised, several of the sailors set up torches fore and aft. Others pulled back a section of the deck and brought out the long oars stored there. Each oar was passed through a round, rope-padded lock in the ship’s rail, twenty to a side. At the captain’s signal, the mate climbed up on a hatch and began to sing. Picking up the rhythm he set, the oarsmen pulled in practiced unison and the ship slid smoothly forward over the calm face of the bay. Captain Talrien stood at the tiller, steering her into the echoing dimness beyond the pillars.
The sun had already passed noon, and little sunlight penetrated far into the chasm. It was colder inside and smelled of salt-drenched stone. Alec was standing with Sedrish when he happened to look up.
“Are those stars?” he asked in amazement. The narrow strip of sky was pricked with faint points of light.
“It’s the high walls, shutting out the sun. I fell down a well when I was a lad and it was just the same. About the only time there’s much light in here is at high noon.”
Rough stone towered overhead on either side, seeming to bear down over the vessel. Small freshets of water flowed down here and there, tumbling off the uneven rock face. In places, the surface of it gave back a glassy Reflection that puzzled Alec.
“That’s from the magicking,” Sedrish explained. “In places it’s shiny smooth like that; others, like over there, the rock just dripped and ran like wax down the side of a candle. I wouldn’t have liked to been in here when them wizards was blasting away, I can tell you!”
Their passage was a
quiet affair. The narrow space around them gave back every whisper and splash and the effect seemed to subdue even Biny. When the lookout at last shouted, “Half way sighted, Captain,” his voice reverberated in a succession of ghostly echoes up and down the canal.
Alec was wondering how on earth anyone could tell distance in such a place when he caught sight of something white against the right wall up ahead. As they drew nearer, he could see that it was a huge statue of polished marble standing in a shallow niche carved into the wall. The figure glowed like a pale lantern in the dimness.
“Who’s that?” Alec asked.
“Queen Tamír the Second.” Sedrich touched a hand respectfully to his forelock as they passed. “Skala’s had good queens and bad, but old Tamír was one of the best. Even the balladeers can’t improve much on the life she led.”
Alec squinted through the gloom as they passed the statue. The sculptor had visualized his subject striding into the wind; her long hair streamed behind her, and the robes she wore were molded to the gracious curves of her form. Much of her left side was covered by an oval shield and in her right hand she raised a sword as if saluting the passing vessels. Her face was neither exceedingly beautiful nor terribly plain, but her proud stance and fierce expression spoke across the centuries.
“After the Plenimarans destroyed the old eastern capital of Ero, she just up and moved the survivors across to the other side and had this Canal cut through,” Sedrish went on, lighting his pipe from a lantern. “That must be better than six hundred years ago now. Aye, there was no stopping her, they say. She was raised as a boy up in the mountains because her uncle had seized the throne. No good come of that, of course; that’s what got Ero destroyed. When he was killed in battle, this nephew of his steps forward and says, ‘By your leave, I’m a girl.’ Her uncle had murdered just about everyone else of the blood, so they crowned her on the spot. During her reign she beat back the Plenimarans, was lost at sea during a battle, then turned up a year later and took back the throne and ruled ’til she was an old woman. Quite a character, she was. Queen Idrilain’s said to be a good deal like her.”