The dragons tooth, p.19
The Dragon's Tooth, page 19
“Rhys, Arch-Priest of Morgenley, can be converted. I fear that now he plots against us, for he knows of our ambition to unite Morgenley and Albany and use the strength of their army against the Sidhe. He knows of our common thought, and suspects you will become the Arch-Priest of the united land. My hope is that once Lachlan’s head sits on the gates of Cantivalè, we can promise Rhys that you will become Priest of the Archive and he can gain the high office he craves. Sadly we cannot yet announce our intentions for Lachlan so we are at the mercy of Rhys’ cunning.
“Stanlaus of Grunwalt may support us in our immediate ventures. He is thwarted at every turn by his Lord, but commands great support outside Arnstadt, and faced with the new Holy Army the Dukes will seek a compromise and we shall have all the Albese nations on our side. I would warn that Stanlaus’ views on the direction of our Church are equivocal, and he should not be trusted.
“Peir of Uldar is my appointment, and will support us without hesitation. You should consider him as a future Priest of the Guidance, and perhaps groom him as your successor.
“Ralf, Arch-Priest of Asgaar is an enigma, and I fear we cannot rely on him. I am certain he will support the prosecution of Lachlan once he has seen the damning evidence, but his views on the purpose of the Church too closely match that of the Priest of the Archive. We may have to consider other means of ensuring loyalty in the state of Asgaar. Oden will forgive us.
“Simon of Österant is a fool, and a puppet of whoever he feels will allow him to maintain his decadent lifestyle. We can use him for now, but I suspect we may have another prosecution in three years time. Perhaps not an execution, but the whores and smugglers he cavorts with should accompany him to the Western Desert.
“Herlich, our Priest of the Guidance, is an old man and I fear his facilities are deserting him. I was fortunate his decline was noted before he could be considered for my present role. If I can persuade him of his failings, he may relinquish his role to allow you a higher office. I know his ways, and he will give his support during the Congregation, even if he is unaware he is doing so.
“Adalric, Priest of The Days, is again an old man and Death stalks him like a shadow. His wits are however sharp, and he may be the main barrier against our bringing Lachlan to Oden for final judgement. I will continue to try to convince him of the glory of our cause. If I fail, we might pray to Oden for a swift resolution. I am certain he will hear my plea.
“Simon, Priest of the Thought, is again my man. We can rely on him, although I fear his appointment was based on my pragmatism and his loyalty rather than his capacity for Thought.
“Lastly, Ulfric of Cantivalè is loyal. Another who you should consider for possible higher office.
“Consequently, once Lachlan is disposed of, of the eleven members of the Congregation, five will support our cause without hesitation, two may oppose, and four will support us but cannot be relied on if difficulties arise.
“One practical issue may be the time between the death of Lachlan and the uniting of the two kingdoms. My proposal would be that were Oden to grant me a longer life than expected, you would replace the heretic in the Archives while we would put a loyalist in Lasgard. We would then create an Arch-Priestship in the Southern Continent and move our appointee to there, allowing Rhys to control the great new nation. Until we are certain of his commitment Rhys must never be allowed to know the truth about Prince Voradh. We must have a lever to control the Prince to ensure Albany and Morgenley follow the true path and not one set by a rogue Arch-Priest.
“I would again warn you of your dealings with Lord Chrosal. If he continues to believe that Voradh may not be the true heir, his desire for the throne may grow stronger as he will not accept the end of Merlyan rule. He is a useful ally at present but his value will cease when the kingdoms are united, when he may be a threat. Voradh will be more likely to seek advice from Morgenleans, and Chrosal’s influence will wane. He will be a wounded beast, so we may have to resort to the kindest action when an animal is in great pain.
“So, my true friend, our pathway within the Congregation is plain to see, and though not smooth, there are no real impediments. But the world is not so accommodating, and we must be vigilant. The Sidhe, through devilry or treachery, are aware of our plans and I have been told that they are reinforcing the Black Mountain, as well as beginning to build up their garrisons on the Northern border with Asgaar. Sights of their galleys are more common in the far seas, and the rumours of other distant continents with men willing to fight for the Sidhe have resurfaced in our ports. We know that Morgenley trades with those sons of Hell, and some Earls may be reluctant to support our cause if it affects their pockets. And Morgenley’s claims on Uldar grow more serious by the day. Grunwalt are seeking to exploit the situation. I can hear the hounds of war baying loudly, and we may be left holding their leashes.
“I am certain Oden will assist us as we reflect his glory to the world. But we must be vigilant, and not let false feelings of compassion deter us from our duty to Him.
“Your Lord and Friend, Gustav of Reinstadt”
Albrecht folded the letter, and taking a large volume from his shelf entitled “The Arable Prospects of Eastern Albany”, he slipped the letter between the pages. He replaced the book, and smiled. Had Gustav promised anyone else the position of next High Priest? No matter, as Gustav would not be around next time one was chosen. The critical factor was not Gustav’s support, but control over the armies of Albany and its neighbour. Three people knew the truth about Voradh, and that was the lever Gustav referred to. Chrosal was the other. Albrecht was still not sure where the Duke of Lasgard stood in all of this but he would have to be dealt with in time as a precaution. As would the boy Owain if he was ever found alive. Oden would forgive such actions, Albrecht was certain.
Chapter 37, West Morgenley, late in the Eighth Day of Ernt, 710
In the blackness, Owain continued to climb. The projecting stones remained firm as he moved upwards, until finally his right hand felt nothing as he reached for the next hold. His left hand subsequently found a plain wall. Feeling around he deduced that voids existed ahead and to the right of where he perched above the chimney. Behind and to the left were walls. He felt each stone that he could reach in the walls in turn in case there was a hidden exit, but they remained unmoveable. For a full minute he remained still, trying to catch the direction from where the faint breeze was coming from.
It seemed stronger on the right. Climbing out of the shaft, he stood up and began to move at a pace a snail would find leisurely. His hands covered every piece of wall; his feet moved a fraction of an inch each time, trying to detect a movement in the floor. When he found a torch holder he went through his well practiced routine, but no secret door was revealed.
He’d probably taken half an hour to move twenty feet when he felt the floor move beneath his feet. He knelt down and tried to guess where the next flagstone would be. Composing himself, he leapt...
His landing was unsteady and as the put out a foot to regain balance he felt the stone where he landed begin to rock. With arms waving he somehow managed to stay upright. He realised he faced a major dilemma. If the chamber below was similar to the one he used before as a route forward, there was no way he could lower himself down far enough to feel stakes and then get back on top. It would have to be a leap of faith. And given that most of the voids in the previous passage contained stakes, the odds were not good. It was unlikely the first drop would be safe. And even when he’d descended into to a chamber below, half that void contained stakes. So he resolved to keep checking the walls until all was lost. So his progress in the blackness continued, leaping, feeling, edging forward. He’d no idea what time it was, nor even what day.
Then his left foot sensed the start of nothing... a space. Had a flagstone broken and disappeared into the space beneath? He knelt down and felt. It was the first step on a stairway that led down. Turning round, he began to descend on his hands and knees. Each time he felt secure he would feel the stone in front of him, then stand and check the walls.
He was maybe ten flights down when without warning the step he’d just knelt on dropped away beneath his weight.
Desperately he hung on to the stair above with his arms. Owain could feel the stone bang against his knees as the counterweight tried to push the trap back into position. He kicked out with his legs and somehow got a faint hold on the wall with his left foot. His right found the next solid step. He managed to arch his body over the gap. From there he was able to push himself upright on the lower step. He felt giddy and instinctively moved down onto the next level to stop himself falling forward. Collapsing to his knees, his heart beating wildly, he waited for a few minutes before continuing.
Owain was examining the next stair down when he felt the stone supporting the step move. Leaning his shoulder on the wall, he felt it give. Should he enter the new space or continue down the stairs? He’d had enough of the stairway so he pushed open the entrance in the wall, then crawled over the threshold before standing and trying to work out where he was. It seemed to be another passageway, this time with a dirt floor, about three feet wide and seven high. His first tentative steps indicated it rose sharply upwards.
Again he made his way slowly up the passage, each inch of wall getting his full attention. Eventually he felt a door ahead of him. He reached for the handle and turned it.
The door opened outwards. He moved through and tried to understand where he was. He was in a space where to his left was another wooden door, which resisted any attempt to open it. Ahead was a solid wall. To his right...
...More steps. He tested the wall on the landing. Nothing. Kneeling down, he began to check the steps and wall on his way down. The stairway curved in a sharp bend. Down and down he went, his fingers feeling every flight, until about fifteen minutes later he felt the now familiar movement of the riser stone and then the inward movement of the wall as he pushed on it. He was just about to crawl through the newly found space when something stopped him. He was finding it difficult to breathe at this point, and something in the air had stirred a memory. He stood up and tentatively started to make his way down the remainder of steps. There were none. The mechanism for the hidden door was located by the third-bottom step.
Owain was now certain. He forgot caution as he felt his way through the blackness down the passage, as it began to dip downwards and take a turn to the right. He slowed up slightly when he believed he was about to descend, and to his joy, found a flight of steps that took him further down. The strong smell of the sea was the sweetest perfume Owain had ever savoured. Before long he felt the first of the wooden boxes.
He reached in and found the water and gulped it down. As he did so he became aware of a light coming down the passage.
“You are in the dark?” asked Kenan.
“Lost the light.”
“I told you not to wander”
“I did’nae go far” said Owain, with as innocent expression as he could muster.
Kenan looked at the youth with suspicious eyes. “I might be inclined to believe you, for none have journeyed these passages without knowing the way, and even those who were certain of the path have perished. But... What did you see?”
“Just a tunnel. Then I dropped the lamp.”
“Strange I did not see it on my way. I do not know who you really are, but there is a force protecting you that I do not wish to meddle with. The boat is here. Or have you already found it?”
Owain shrugged. “I cannae see it. And I dinnae ken how to get outside.”
Kenan walked to the far end of the chamber and pressed some protrusions on the wall. It swung open inwards. Owain saw him disappear into the opening and reappear a few seconds later. A gust of sea-scented air combined with distant shouts permeated the atmosphere.
“You will find a boat moored directly below” said the Under-Bishop, pointing into the darkness. “Forget me Owain, unless of course you achieve greatness. I do not know of your purpose, but your rashness may prevent its success. Be careful.”
Owain shook the man’s hand, and looked at the opening. There were in fact two secret doors, four feet apart, clearly the thickness of the external walls. He crawled through backwards, and slowly lowered himself down when he reached the outside. Four feet below, he could see a deck, dimly lit by a lantern covered in a cloth. Letting go of the edge of the wall, he dropped lightly onto the boat. Above he heard more than saw Kenan closing the entrance.
A voice called “Come!” and he walked towards the noise. He could see an open hatch and he entered, walking down four wooden steps. In the middle of the floor was a large bundle, around six feet long, four feet wide, and three foot high covered in a grey cloth. Three men sat on benches round the edge of the interior. One was dark-skinned, possibly in his late twenties, with thick black curly hair and beard, wearing what at one time had been a white tunic and breeches, but was now stained with every colour from black to a blood red. A gold ring hung from his left ear, and round his neck was a leather strap with a polished stone at the end. The second man was well-muscled, balding, with keen blue eyes. He was wearing a brown leather jerkin onto which were stitched a number of golden cords. Owain estimated his age as mid-thirties.
The third was older, and wore a tan leather waistcoat over his tanned and well-rounded torso. His short black hair was partly covered by a skull-cap of the same material. A mouth missing several teeth was framed by thick lips surrounded by a luxuriant black beard flecked with grey.
The older man spoke. “Yer name?”
“Owain of Strathdu”
“Been on a boat afore?” The man cocked his head to one side.
“Aye”
“On the ocean?”
“The Inner Sea” replied Owain. The three men laughed.
“You mean the pond?” said the balding man. “Why were you there? Fairy waters, don’t y’know?”
The older man spoke. “Kevern, we don’t ask the lad nowt. He don’t wanna say, an’ we don’t wanna know. Best that way.”
He then turned to Owain. “I’m Pawly. This be my vessel. This” he said pointing to the balding man, “be Kevern. “ He nodded at his youngest companion. “An’ this be Zethar. We calls him that coz he be nothin’ like one. “
Zethar raised a hand towards Owain in the form of a salute. “It means seagull, boy. Them white things that craps on ye from a height. There’s two on this boat.” The other two guffawed loudly.
“So what’s your real name?” asked Owain.
“Dunno” said Zethar. “I uses a different one every time I gets arrested. Forgot my real one.”
“Some Corsan throat mangler” said Kevern. “Try an’ say it, ye be swallowin’ your tongue.”
“You’re Corsan?” asked Owain.
“Nay, I was born there. That don’t make me Corsan. I found the river and it took me to the sea. That’s my country now. No borders, no Kings, no priests, only laws made by sailors fer sailors. I lands fer ale and women, but the sea is where I belongs.”
“So what’s happening?” enquired Owain.
“We sails now” said Pawly. “Four o’ us, we’ll rows through the Narrows. Easiest way. Once we gets clear, up goes the sails an’ then ye leaves it to us sailors. Ye any good with oars?”
Owain nodded. “Then what?” he demanded.
“Then we’ll sails the boat an’ you does the fishin’” came the skipper’s reply. “Easy to sees ye be a kidgin’ army man. Army men knows how to cook. We fights them in Lasgard sometimes. Always beats them. “
“Yeah, once they’ve fallen over with the drink” said Zethar with a smile.
“So where do we sail to?”
Pawly smiled. “They be tellin’ ye nowt, do they? We goes up to a place they calls Triafon on the Speidhon. First we stops at Lasgard an’ loses these kidgin’ silks. Best Morgenley. Amazin’ how cheap Morgenley silks be. We picks up some cargo, metals or something an’ heads for Cathton. We can sails as far as there but after that we needs a rowing team to take us further up river. But ye leaves us at the bridge.”
“The bridge?”
“Culhall Bridge. First place landies be crossin’ the river without gettin’ wet. Somebody will meets ye. Dunno who. An’ another thing, once we gets to Lasgard ye stays hidden. An’ hidden till the bridge, mark ye. We’ll goes out lookin’ fer beer, fights, an’ whores, but ye be stayin’ on the boat. Ye’re seen on the kidgin’ streets, we don’t gets paid. That clear?”
Owain nodded.
They all went back on deck, and Pawly gave Owain an oar, showing him how it fitted to the side of the boat. Kevern undid a rope and kicked the boat away from the Citadel. There were lights dancing on the water: reflections from boats, houses, and taverns across the water in east Morgenley. Looking up, Owain could see a few torches flickering on the various levels of the Citadel. The walls themselves were still the darkest things in that night, and he shuddered when he thought of the blacknesses that permeated the bowels of that vast edifice, where the corpses of the unwary lay at the mercy of the rats and the dust. His bones might be with them. As it was, they were headed with the rest of him on a journey to an unknown destiny.
On the shore, eyes watched as the boat headed towards the Narrows. In the night sky, a hawk rose towards the moon and began to fly north.
Chapter 38, Lasgard, Eleventh Day of Tuschur , 711
The boat was moored in what the locals called ‘The Canal’, an artificial harbour half a mile long that divided the Dugann from the Southgate area of the city. Owain sat in the interior, listening to the shouts and screams coming from the taverns and whorehouses of the Dugann, the out of tune singing of drunks staggering along the quayside, and all the other noises of the harbour area at night.
