Master of furies, p.23
Master of Furies, page 23
Donte pointed. ‘In there. Follow me.’
The driver jumped off the wagon. As the man landed, Donte said, ‘Don’t I know you?’
The driver said, ‘I don’t think so. Name’s Ratigan. Might have seen each other around. I’ve been driving back and forth for the baron since the raids.’
‘Well …’ Donte halted, then said, ‘My memory was fuzzy after a head blow, so maybe I saw you when I was loading or something.’ His memory had been lost for a while, due to the magic of the Sisters of the Deep, not that he would share that story with anyone. ‘Anyway, the captain’s inside.’
They both entered and found the captain in an intact portion of the room in the otherwise empty warehouse. Baldasar was leaning over a table, looking at an old map of the area, surrounded by notes and short messages. He had a quill in his hand and was making changes in red ink. Donte and Ratigan stood silently until they were noticed.
‘What?’ said the captain.
Donte pointed to Ratigan. ‘Supplies.’
‘The baron sent tools for the new garrison,’ said Ratigan.
Baldasar said, ‘Donte, show him.’ Then he paused and said, ‘Is there anything else?’
‘Been from one end of the town to the other a couple of times, Captain. Nothing here. I should probably head out to the border checkpoint.’
‘Then go,’ said the captain, apparently impatient to return to correcting the map.
‘A horse, sir? It’s a long walk.’
‘Remounts are out the back,’ Baldasar said.
‘Sir,’ said Donte, gently taking Ratigan’s arm and turning him. Ratigan yanked his arm out of Donte’s grasp, but didn’t say anything.
Once outside, Donte said, ‘Captain Baldasar has a lot on his mind.’
Ratigan shot Donte a look that revealed he didn’t like being manhandled, even slightly, but said nothing as he climbed back onto his wagon seat. ‘Where’s the garrison site?’
‘Down to that corner, right turn, then down two streets, then left and straight on. You’ll see fellows with flags and that three-legged contraption they gaze over while they’re pulling twine.’
Ratigan turned and yelled to the second driver, ‘Follow me, Roz!’ With a flick of the reins, he moved the wagon ahead, the second wagon moving a moment later.
Donte watched them pull away, then circled around the building to where a makeshift corral had been put up, and in which a small herd of horses waited. A series of braces topped by a long pole was near the gate and on it were saddles and blankets, and from dowels hammered into a tall plank behind hung bridles. Two bored-looking guards were protecting the horses and gear and gave Donte a questioning look. The whole garrison had been instructed that Donte was the captain’s runner, so they said nothing as he grabbed a bridle and opened the gate.
He selected a fit-looking brown gelding and approached slowly. The horse didn’t shy and accepted the bridle without complaint. Once the headgear was fitted, Donte led the horse out of the corral.
He quickly saddled it up, mounted, and glanced around. From the angle of the sun, he reckoned he should arrive at the checkpoint a bit before sundown. He realized that he would miss the midday meal, but the food at the checkpoint was likely to be almost as good as that at the mess tent, so he decided that was a small loss.
As he rode through the town, he passed the two wagons beside the garrison and gave a small wave to Ratigan and the tall woman.
Donte had worked around enough horses to know how to rate his ride. He took the journey by turns at walk, trot, and canter, so that the animal would not need days of rest, and as he had anticipated, he arrived a little before sundown.
The guards were gathered around a newly fashioned barrier that would be swung aside to allow passage but would signal well in advance to anyone coming down the road to halt.
The twenty armed men next to it would be even more persuasive.
As he rode up, Donte saw the other horses tied in a picket line that lay on the ground. A chest-high line would allow faster untying of the animals, but Donte understood the relatively lax approach. Unless a company of cavalry rode down on them suddenly, the men were in a good position to defend this location.
The checkpoint was at the top of a long, gentle rise, so anyone coming towards them would be moving uphill, and there was makeshift breastwork behind which archers could loose arrows on anyone approaching. Donte rode towards a cook-fire and saw that most of the men were gathered around it, with two stationed a short distance down the road, as early warning.
The big sergeant, Collin, stood up and walked towards Donte as he reined in his mount. ‘Orders?’ he asked.
‘Nothing new,’ Donte replied. ‘Captain’s done with me at Beran’s Hill, so I’m here to sniff out any more of those eastern spies.’
The exact nature of the Azhante prisoners had been kept secret from anyone not immediately involved with their interrogation or care. To the rest of the garrison, they were ‘spies from the east’, and as Donte had predicted, the gossip had been rampant at the baron’s castle. Most people assumed they were agents of Sandura.
‘Well,’ said Collin, ‘see to your horse and come to the fire. Got some hot soup with bits of meat and some hard bread.’
Donte dismounted and turned his horse, noticing that on the other side of the fire sat Jackson Deakin, who watched him with a narrow gaze. Donte indulged himself in a small smile and realized they both knew an accounting was due.
HATU WAS WAITING ON THE dock as the Queen of Storms pulled up close and was hauled by a dozen men on two hawsers, while a pair of boys dropped large fenders filled with sand between the dockside and the ship’s hull.
Hava waved from the quarterdeck, and he returned the wave. He knew she would not depart until the ship was unloaded and made secure, so he moved out of the way and waited as a gangway was run out.
First off were fifty people: Hatu’s guess was craftsmen and farmers, which would be welcome. One of Hava’s sailors directed them to the main mess where they could grab a bit of food and listen to what was now a more or less standard welcome from Catharian and Bodai. Sabella and the other acolytes would help them. The leader of the Flame Guard was a man named Elmish, whom everyone addressed as ‘Prior’, but he had retired to a small house atop a hill, looking down upon the Sanctuary. Apparently, with Hatu being found, their entire purpose was now being re-evaluated. Hatu assumed that Catharian was now running the Sanctuary, as Bodai spent almost every waking minute with Nathan and himself, but no formal announcement had ever been made. To Hatu it appeared as if no one was really in charge.
After cargo started to be unloaded a man appeared at the top of the gangway and walked down and before Hatu fully recognized who it was: Balven, the baron’s brother, was standing right in front of him.
‘Hello, Sefan.’
Hatu blinked for a moment, then laughed. ‘You’re probably the only person alive who has called me that, Balven.’ With a wave of his hand, he said, ‘Welcome to the Sanctuary.’
‘Will you show me around?’
‘I’m waiting for my wife,’ said Hatu.
‘Ah, yes,’ replied Balven.
Hatu said, ‘She’s going to be a while, so I can take you to someone who can show you around. Come with me.’
If Balven was bothered by the lack of formal address, he didn’t show it. Hatu led him to the common mess and saw that Catharian and Bodai had just finished their welcome talk, and many of the people were eating.
Escorting Balven to where the two men waited, he said, ‘Bodai, Catharian, you may remember Balven, first adviser to Baron Dumarch.’
Bodai said, ‘Hello. This is quite the surprise.’ To Catharian he said, ‘I met this worthy gentleman once, when returning Hatu’s care to his brother, the baron.’
‘I recognize him,’ said Catharian with a smile and a slight bow.
‘I don’t believe I remember you, sir,’ said Balven.
‘As I was playing the role of a mendicant monk at the time, you would have no reason to, m’lord. But I saw you several times when I was snooping around Marquenet looking for him.’ He indicated Hatushaly.
‘You’re the reason I’m here,’ Balven said to Bodai.
‘Me? Why?’
‘We captured two Azhante spies.’
That statement seemed to hit Bodai like a blow. His face went pale and he said, ‘You took them alive?’
‘Yes, and they told us many fascinating things.’
‘They’re almost a legend in Coaltachin,’ said the old teacher. ‘They’re greatly feared and to be avoided at any cost.’
‘Then we have much to discuss, and if you’re willing, my brother would like you to return with me to Marquenet.’
Hatu said, ‘I remember how you reacted when I saw them in Sandura.’ He looked at Balven. ‘I also would like to know—’
Balven cut him off. ‘Talk to Hava. She was the first to begin to unravel this knot of a mystery.’
Hatu said, ‘Very well. She’ll be off the ship soon, so I’m going back.’
Bodai waved Balven to move away from the people eating and said, ‘We must talk.’
‘Absolutely.’
Bodai looked at Catharian and said, ‘Why don’t you keep an eye on things here while I take Balven to the library.’ He glanced around and saw one of the kitchen boys and waved him over. Turning to Balven, he said, ‘Are you hungry, sir?’
‘I can wait.’
‘Good.’ He said to the boy, ‘Fetch me a bottle of wine and two mugs.’
Balven chuckled, then, noting Bodai’s almost distraught state, said, ‘Better make that two bottles.’
• CHAPTER FOURTEEN •
Decisions and Risks
Declan rested the men for two days. They picked the date trees clean and found some sweet berries on the other side of the pool. Sebastian suggested he go and hunt, but Declan said no; he did not want to split the party for any reason.
The sun was rising in the east, and Declan was organizing the men, when Mikola came and said, ‘All the water skins are full again.’ When Declan just nodded, Mikola added, ‘Will we find more?’
‘I don’t know,’ Declan replied honestly. ‘But the farther northwest we march, the better the chances.’
‘Where did this water come from?’ asked the young man.
‘I told Mick Sawyer from those mountains we’re heading towards.’
‘How?’
‘Underground river.’
‘A river underground?’
‘The water that gushed from the side of the cliff north of the camp in the Wound, that’s also part of that underground river. Not all the rain that falls on those hills and mountains runs off. Some soaks in and runs that way.’ He waved in the general direction of the Wound. ‘It’s why there are trees, bushes, and animals there. There’s a place up near the Copper Hills where water springs out of the side of the hills. They told me it’s an underground river. Now, let’s get out of here before it gets too damned hot again.’
Declan motioned for the men to gather, and said, ‘I’ve been content to lead, but this is one time I must ask you to take a vote.’
‘On what?’ asked Sixto.
He pointed to the mercenaries from South Tembria, who’d been sheltering in the Wound when Declan’s company arrived. ‘They said the mountains to the northeast of Abala are impassable, and they should know. We know the nomads came down to Abala through a pass between the mountains and the Burning Lands. So, the question is do we go north, and try to find a shorter way to Abala, or chance the passage the nomads use?’
Tobias said, ‘You decide, Captain.’
Sixto followed. ‘What do you think is best, Declan?’
Declan was rested, but still felt nothing like his former self. Like every man there he was underweight, weakened by privation and the harsh trek out of the Wound. He took a deep breath, then said, ‘I promised Bogartis I’d get as many of you out of here alive as I could.’ He found moisture gathering in his eyes and felt a tickle of rage beginning to grow. ‘I will add those we found in the Wound to that promise, and I will do what I can to honour that pledge.
‘But we do not have a chance in a stand-up fight against an equal number of rested warriors.’ He paused for a moment to allow for any dispute. When none came, he said, ‘If the raids are over, the nomads will have returned to their range on the grasslands. It’s a two-, maybe three-day journey on foot through that passage. We will be exposed, in the open with nowhere to hide, should a band of those horsemen see us.
‘Our other choice is to continue on past that passage, and hope we find another way over the mountains.’ Declan found himself on the verge of tears of frustration and anger and fought them down as he finished. ‘I want to get to Abala. I want to find us all safe passage away from this gods-forsaken land.’
To Declan’s surprise, it was Oscar who said, ‘We’ll follow you anywhere, Captain.’
Declan nodded. ‘We’ll take the pass the nomads use, and if we have to fight our way through, we’ll fight.’
There was no cheer of approval, just a silent acceptance that this company was near the end of its rope. The oasis with its water and dates and berries had saved their lives, but the men were in no condition to fight a battle.
‘Let’s go,’ said Declan and he led them out of the deep depression that housed the oasis.
HATU LAY ON HIS BACK, staring at the ceiling after listening to Hava recount her encounter with the Azhante. They had shared a bath, made love, eaten, and made love a second time, and now the sun was starting to light up the eastern sky as she finished. ‘So, that’s why Balven wants Bodai to go back to Marquenet. I reckoned no one is likely to know more about the history of things than Bodai.’
‘Probably,’ said Hatu, sitting up and swivelling round to put his feet on the floor.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Hava.
‘I’m hungry.’
‘You ate!’ she said, reaching over to pull him back into bed.
Laughing, he dodged her reach, and snagged his trousers off the floor. ‘That was hours ago,’ he said, pulling them up and tying the waist cord. ‘And you’ve worked up my appetite!’ Pulling his tunic off the back of a chair, he slipped it over his head and asked, ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
She thought for a second, then with a sigh said, ‘Yes, I am.’ Slipping out of bed, she donned her own shirt and trousers and then her boots, while he laced on sandals. She put on the black leather over-vest she wore aboard ship and tied a dark green bandana around her head.
Hatu smiled at Hava, who returned an expression he didn’t quite understand, but he sensed that this might have been one of those moments he and Bodai had discussed where he had made a poor choice.
‘Did I just do something wrong?’ he asked.
‘No. Everything is just fine,’ she said as she walked past him, opened the door to their quarters, and turned towards the community kitchen.
He hesitated for a moment, then followed, knowing with certainty everything was not fine. He opened his mouth to say something and realized that this was not the best time.
Reaching the kitchen, they found a few people already eating before going off to work, and quickly loaded up with plates of food and mugs of water. Hatu thought he might replace the water with coffee when Bodai arrived.
He was painfully aware of the awkward silence that now was like a wall between himself and his wife, and again weighed the value of trying to talk about it, but was saved from that decision by Nathan’s arrival. He nodded at Hatu and then said, ‘You’re Hava,’ and bowed slightly. ‘Hatu talks about you all the time.’
She brightened at that and glanced at Hatu.
Hatu silently thanked Nathan as the mood instantly changed.
‘And who are you?’ she asked.
‘I’m a traveller by the name of Nathan, and I’ve come to assist Bodai in Hatu’s education.’
‘A preceptor, then.’
‘Of sorts,’ he replied. ‘Now, excuse me.’ He started moving to the long table and its food.
‘You didn’t mention him,’ said Hava to Hatu.
Hatu smiled. ‘Last night he was the last thing on my mind.’
She gave him a slightly narrow eye for a moment, then smiled.
Most of the conversation since Hava had returned had been about her voyage and the discovery of the Azhante spies, the astounding return of Donte and how he came to be in Marquenet, and Balven’s conjectures. Hatu was both eager to know what she’d done, and also uncertain how to inform her about the extraordinary things he had discovered during the course of his training.
She’d witnessed the first manifestation of his power, when they’d travelled through the Narrows and he’d lit up with pulsing blue energy. Still, he hardly knew how to prepare her for all that he had discovered about himself in his recent training with Bodai and Nathan; his ability to sense her whereabouts, his discovery of Donte before she told him that their friend still lived, and his causing a rockslide to aid Declan half a world away, were things that were unimaginable when she left for Marquensas. He knew he would soon have to find a way to explain these changes to her, but he was desperate for a sense of the proper time and place.
He was saved from further worry by Bodai’s appearance, as the teacher came from the direction of the library with a big coffee pot in his hand. He handed it to a kitchen boy, and Hatu realized that if he’d already gone through a pot, he’d been up for hours.
Hatu pointed at him, and Hava turned. ‘Finish up,’ he said, wolfing down what was left on his plate.
She seemed slightly annoyed by being told what to do, but her own curiosity was in play, so she also finished quickly and they took their dishes back to the table to be cleaned just as Bodai was getting his second pot.
Bodai smiled and said, ‘Good, you’re here. You’ve eaten?’ They both said yes, and Bodai waved them to follow him. ‘Good. Balven and I have pieced together some interesting ideas, and I was anxious to talk with you’ – he pointed at Hava – ‘next, after you and your boy here had your reunion.’
