Master of furies, p.11
Master of Furies, page 11
Sabien was large enough a presence to intimidate all but the most foolhardy, or dangerous, members but his quiet manner made it unnecessary for him to be a bully. A few times she had had to resort to discipline – usually a few days on hardtack and water or night duty aloft in bad weather – but from what she’d been told, the amount of punishment she dished out was light compared to most large ships’ crews. Given her lack of previous experience next to that of her crew who’d been sailing for many years, she still felt pleased.
Her initial ‘I want to be a pirate’ impulse was proving to be a revealing insight into her nature that she had not expected. She remembered how it had been boredom that had driven her to demand something to do aboard a ship – seemingly ages ago, yet here she was, captain of a ship she’d captured, from people who would label her a pirate, and no doubt hang her without hesitation.
They quickly rowed ashore, riding the breakers into the sand, and when Hava jumped out of the longboat she saw Baron Dumarch standing on the beach, arms akimbo, while his bodyguards surrounded him, ready for danger.
She approached Daylon and when she was a yard away said, ‘M’lord.’
For a moment, the baron looked unsure. Then he said, ‘I know you.’
‘I’m Hava, Hatushaly’s wife.’
‘Yes,’ said Daylon. ‘Balven would know you on sight.’ He spent a moment regarding her. ‘So, here we are. You want a parley. What are we to discuss?’
‘First, I have nearly a hundred people who want to come home, so can I move them ashore?’
Daylon was silent for a moment then said, ‘If they are my people we’ll find something to do with them.’ He glanced north along the shoreline. ‘I guess they’re all my people, given there seems nowhere else for them to go.’
Hava’s expression revealed that this was not the answer she had expected, but she replied, ‘Can we disembark them here?’
‘We can’t feed them here.’
‘They can carry enough ashore to eat for the next two or three days. That should get them down to the city.’
‘Then this is as good a place as any.’ He turned and said to the lieutenant leading his escort, ‘Get ready to receive those coming ashore.’ Turning to Hava, he asked, ‘What else?’
‘We have much to talk about.’
‘Ride with me back to the castle?’
Hava smiled and said, ‘If there’s a bath involved, a good meal, and clean clothes, then yes.’
Daylon smiled. ‘We can see to that.’ He looked skywards and said, ‘We’re going to be short of daylight, so perhaps spend the night here, and depart at sunrise?’
Hava nodded. ‘I’ll go back to my ship and I’ll be here at first light tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ said the baron. ‘Should I send for healers and wagons for those coming ashore?’
‘No,’ said Hava. ‘They’re all fit and can walk to the city in a couple of days.’
‘A carriage?’ He smiled as he asked.
‘I can ride,’ she said.
‘That you can,’ he answered. ‘I’ll have fresh mounts here in the morning, waiting.’
‘Until then,’ she said, both anxious for word how the rest of the coast fared and desperate for a meal and sleep. She had taken a long arc to steer clear of any raiders’ ships that might remain, and had edged closer to land for two days, moving carefully until she was convinced there wasn’t a warship or slaver anywhere near Marquenet, and decided to put in near the North Point tor. She knew it was the last fortification on the coast since she had ridden past the cut-off road between the main highway to Beran’s Hill and the sea.
Still, she wished she wasn’t on her last legs from three days’ sailing with only a couple of short naps and could magically be at the castle now, for there were so many things to share with the baron and as many questions to ask.
She waved for her rowers to launch the longboat and waded in to jump in when it was far enough out. She took a deep breath of relief, for until she saw the answering flag to parley, she never knew from moment to moment if she was sailing into a fight.
She kept her rowers in the longboat as they came alongside the Queen of Storms and quickly climbed up the rope ladder to the railing. Sabien waited at the rail. ‘Start ferrying the passengers ashore,’ she said as she cleared the railing, and then added, ‘I’m for a meal and sleep. You’re in command until morning.’
‘Aye, Captain,’ he replied, his expression showing relief that nothing was amiss.
Hava went down a companionway to the crew’s mess and found it unattended. She foraged a little and came away with a small round of cheese, some hardtack and a half-empty wine skin. ‘That will have to do,’ she muttered, realizing that her first proper meal would probably be eating with the baron. She hoped he’d set a better table.
She made it back to her cabin, nibbling along the way, and once sitting on her bunk she managed to get her boots off, finish the wine, before falling sound asleep with the remaining cheese and dried bread on the floor, still wearing the clothes she’d worn for three days.
DECLAN CHOSE TO STAND WATCH while the others stuffed their faces with raw, bloody liver. Sebastian had spotted deer tracks in a muddy wash above a watering hole and Declan had moved the men back while Sebastian created a makeshift hunter’s hide and waited.
Near sundown a small group of deer had come to drink and Sebastian had felled a young male. He had called for the men and by the time they’d come down the wash he had already turned the deer on its side and sliced it open, cutting off a piece of the liver. He was chewing on it when they reached him. He started cutting more pieces and said, ‘It will keep you alive while we cook the rest!’
The men had gladly taken the bloody nourishment and two had started a fire while the rest went looking for sticks upon which to roast the meat. With night falling and the cooking fire alight, Declan decided that sentries were needed. The men were as exhausted as he was but he felt the need to stand the first watch. The smell of deer meat sizzling on sticks above the fire was making him ravenous, but he could wait.
Toombs rose up and said, ‘I can stand a watch, Captain, while you eat.’
‘Thanks,’ said Declan and he approached the fire.
Sixto saw him coming as the sun set and grabbed a skewer stuck into the ground near the edge of the fire and handed it to Declan.
‘Appreciated,’ said Declan and he sat down and began to nibble the still-sizzling meat.
‘It’s funny,’ said Sixto, ‘but when I was a child the one thing I hated most was when my mother fed us liver.’ He shook his head as he wiped grease off his chin. ‘She’d be amazed to see this.’
‘Can’t say as I fancy the taste, but it fills the belly,’ said Declan. He lowered his voice. ‘Over my left shoulder, do you see anything?’
Sixto smiled, and nodded as if Declan had said something amusing, then, keeping his face still, he shifted his weight slightly and looked to the left over Declan’s shoulder. After a few moments, he said, ‘Something.’
‘Animal or man?’ asked Declan.
‘Can’t tell. I only know because there are a few parts of the brush that aren’t moving as they should.’
‘Well, we’re damn close to that watering hole and the fire sent up some smoke, so it could be either.’
‘Yes,’ Sixto agreed.
‘So,’ said Declan, ‘keep watching and … tell me more about your mother’s love for liver.’
Sixto didn’t have to feign amusement as he said, ‘She could get it cheaply from the butcher in our village. I never tasted beef, lamb, or pork until I left home. It was liver with vegetables, fried kidneys, sweetbreads, whatever the butcher would give to her in barter.’
‘What did she barter?’ asked Declan with a few hand gestures to make the conversation look animated should someone be watching. He also knew there could be nothing there and all this was for naught, but as the old expression went, better safe than sorry.
Sixto’s eyes stayed fixed on the distant woods as the light faded. ‘We had a small plot and she grew vegetables. She was good at it, knew when to plant and when to change what was planted. There was always something growing and something ready to pull out of the ground. Carrots, turnips, onions, other plants.’
‘What about your father?’
‘He was a mercenary, like me. He would be gone for months, even over a year once. I never knew him well. He’d come back and my mother would welcome him. There were six of us, and I was oldest, so he tossed me out when I was about thirteen years of age. He drank a lot when he was home, and now that I’ve been in this trade I know that he spent most of what he made fighting on drink and whores. But he brought home enough that my mother could pay for a few things, like fabric to make clothing, or a new pot.’ Sixto shrugged. ‘When my father told me to leave, he said something about being the age he was when his father threw him out.’ His eyes stayed fixed on the distant brush and trees now fading in the gloom. ‘One of the reasons I vowed never to marry. I’ve seen too many children left homeless and alone from too many battles.’
Declan nodded, remembering the dead children he had seen lined up for a mass grave at Beran’s Hill. ‘I wanted to have sons and daughters … once.’
Sixto spared him a glance and whatever question he might have had about that last statement went unsaid. Eventually, he said, ‘I can see nothing now.’
Declan nodded, briefly gripping Sixto’s arm. ‘Set the watch, in case.’
‘Me?’
Declan motioned for Sixto to follow him, and when he neared the campfire said, ‘Heads up.’
The men who were chatting stopped, those who were eating paused, and two who had fallen asleep were awakened.
When he had all eyes on him, Declan said, ‘Tomorrow we move deeper into this canyon. Sixto and I saw … something. Perhaps nothing, but if we’re being watched by someone, I don’t want any surprises. So, trail discipline and no talking. Sixto will set the watch.’ He looked at Benruf. ‘You’ve been a staunch ally so far, but I don’t know you that well. Sixto is now my second, and if we get safely out of here, you can stay or leave as you see fit.’ He took a deep breath and added, ‘Bogartis’s last words to me were to save as many as I could, so that is my goal, right now. The sand we sought is lost, but I can still fashion good weapons without it. I intend to return to Marquenet and make fine blades for the baron. And when he sails to find the source of all this butchery, I plan on standing at his side.’
The men glanced from face to face but no one said a word.
When he heard no objections, Declan said, ‘Sixto, for the watch two men, two hours each.’ He looked each man in the face in turn and said, ‘We have a chance to survive.’
Still no one said a word.
BODAI WAVED HATU TO SIT opposite him at the table that had become their makeshift desk.
‘Good morning.’ Hatu shook his head. ‘You were right. I fell into bed and slept like the dead.’
Bodai said, ‘That’s good.’ Then he yawned.
Hatu laughed.
‘Late night. But I did read some things that bear on our studies.’ Bodai was an adroit liar, and unless he was maladroit Hatu would have no hint that this was information he had gleaned from Nathan the night before. ‘So, let me return to one of our more pressing concerns: magic.’
‘My powers?’
‘Yes,’ said Bodai, ‘but your peculiar situation is only part of a question. Imagine a world where magic is … everywhere, used by many people, to different levels of success, both for good and ill.’
‘A world other than Garn?’
‘Yes.’ Bodai nodded.
‘Such as in the wonder tales told by minstrels?’
‘Exactly.’
Hatu sat back as if considering something then said, ‘When they said “faraway lands” or “wonderful lands” I just assumed they were speaking of some place here on Garn, but very far away, or very far back in time.’ He shifted a bit in his chair. ‘After I got older, I realized they were imaginary places because everywhere I travelled, well, it was as if everywhere was something like everywhere else.’
Bodai nodded. ‘It’s true that people do have more in common than is first supposed. They have babies. They seek wealth or at least sufficiency, and some fight while others pray to gods, some stay home for safety while others travel to seek new vistas; but at heart people are people.’
A sudden memory of his capture by the Sisters of the Deep sprang into Hatu’s mind and he said, ‘And some are very evil.’
‘I’ve seen enough to agree with that,’ replied Bodai. ‘But let’s return to our imaginary land.’
Hatu nodded.
‘What if I told you that there are different worlds beyond Garn?’
Hatu’s forehead furrowed as he weighed the question. His expression alternated between appearing to ponder the idea and doubting it, as if Bodai was somehow testing him. ‘Seriously?’
Bodai said, ‘Seriously.’
‘What, you’ve been to other worlds?’
‘No,’ said Bodai with a laugh. ‘But I’ve seen things …’ He held up his hands, palms out. ‘I’m tempted to go off into another of my long explanations, but I’ll save that for questions you may have ahead. Just suspend your doubt and agree that there is a world far away with people on it who are much like us, and other creatures that are very different.’
‘Like those water creatures that serve the Sisters of the Deep?’
‘Those poor souls that were once men, monstrously fashioned by blood sacrifice and dark arts. Yet in a way, perhaps something like that, but natural beings, having their own language and manner of living. For want of a better way to say this, animals but with minds and souls and …’ Bodai shrugged, struggling with the explanation. His tutelage from the night before had overwhelmed him and he struggled to remember half of what Nathan had shared with him.
Hatu let out a long breath. ‘Very well, for the sake of this exercise, I’ll accept a world somewhere out there’ – he waved his hand – ‘where people and other creatures live and magic is everywhere.’
‘I sense your doubt, but we’ll put that aside for a moment.’ Bodai feigned that he had more to share, but his simple hope was that Hatu didn’t ask questions for which he had no answer.
‘I’ll try,’ said Hatu with a barely contained smile.
Bodai’s gaze narrowed. ‘You fail magnificently in hiding your disdain. What is the problem with imagining magic in large amounts, given what you personally achieved?’
‘Magic, if you want to call my powers that, I’ll accept, though I’m still uncertain what it really is, but other worlds? If there are other worlds, why don’t we know about them, or visit them, or … where exactly are they?’
‘Ah, I keep forgetting you were never raised as the Firemanes were, but rather as just another student of Coaltachin.’ Bodai visibly slumped in his chair. ‘The fault is mine, Hatu, not yours.’ He drummed his fingers on the table and then sat upright. ‘Stars. What do you know about stars?’
Hatu smiled. This was a subject he presumed to have some knowledge of, mostly taught to him by Master Bodai himself. ‘Lights in the night, but they move in a predestined pattern. They travel slowly across the sky in a procession, and if you understand the pattern and the time of year and where you sailed from, you can plot a course and land reasonably close to where you want to.’ He sat back with a smug expression, obviously relieved to have remembered that lesson.
‘True,’ said Bodai, ‘but that’s not the answer. Those are suns.’
‘Suns?’ repeated Hatu, seriously confused. ‘There’s only one sun, and it rises every morning and sets every evening.’
‘They’re suns,’ said Bodai flatly.
‘But they are tiny.’
‘Because they are very far from here. Some are many times as big as our own sun.’
‘And you know this?’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘I was … taught, I suppose you would say, by someone’ – he paused for a moment to refine his story, then went on – ‘a long time ago … actually, just before you were born. He was an odd fellow, but I quickly came to understand that he had travelled much farther than I, had seen far more than I had, and had actually visited those worlds.’
‘Impossible,’ replied Hatushaly.
Bodai sat motionless, then said, ‘Sometimes I forget that just because you are very clever and curious doesn’t mean you have a developed imagination.’
‘What is a developed imagination?’ asked Hatu.
As Bodai’s eyes widened and he was poised on the edge of a major rebuttal, Hatu started to chuckle, the first genuine sound of delight Bodai had heard from him. After a moment, Bodai began to chuckle as well. ‘You are a pain in my arse, Hatushaly,’ he said a moment later.
‘I can imagine many things, Bodai,’ said Hatu as his mirth subsided. ‘You underestimate me.’
Bodai settled back in his chair, then suddenly barked out a laugh. ‘I hate it when my students challenge me, and they’re right.’ He looked at Hatushaly. ‘What do you need to know?’
‘I need to know, what has this to do with my problem?’
‘Context.’
‘Context?’
‘Yes, so many things are not understood unless you know the context.’
‘Such as?’
Bodai paused for a moment then said, ‘Imagine you have a goat.’
‘Very well.’
‘Now,’ said Bodai, ‘imagine that goat has wandered off your property and devoured your neighbour’s garden.’
Hatu nodded.
‘So, are you responsible for the damage done to your neighbour?’
Hatu weighed the question, then said, ‘That would depend—’
‘Yes!’ Bodai shouted, startling Hatu with the interruption. ‘It would depend on the context. Was your goat tethered? Did your neighbour have a fence? Did he leave the gate open? Had this problem existed before?’ He sat back, pleased with where the lesson was heading. ‘So, we have too many …’
‘Unknowns,’ supplied Hatu.
