Master of furies, p.28
Master of Furies, page 28
In the three days since occupying this abandoned inn, the members of Declan’s company had scavenged enough items to make the kitchen functional, including a small bag of salt that had been claimed from an empty farm, to add to the spices already in the kitchen.
Some bartering for fresh fish, and freshly churned butter from a farm half a day’s walk north, and the men were finally eating well enough for the younger fighters to seem fit to travel.
Sixto appeared at the door, motioning for Declan to come out of the inn. He had been on a systematic search of the city and had a large sack over his shoulder. He put it down, and when the bag touched the stones, Declan heard glass clinking.
He asked, ‘More success?’
‘Far more than I expected, or we deserve,’ Sixto answered with a smile. He opened the bag and Declan saw three large bottles.
‘Wine?’
‘In a corner of the cellar of some rich merchant’s home. And there’s also this.’ He opened the bag wider and Declan saw a plain wooden box. ‘Open it,’ said Sixto.
Declan reached in, lifted back a hinged lid, and saw beneath it, coins. ‘Gold!’
‘Whoever once occupied that nice home fled before he could take his hidden wealth,’ said Sixto. ‘I judge it to be more than a hundred pieces.’
Declan realized he now had enough to hire a ship back to Marquensas, with enough left over to do more equipping here in Abala. The people of the city were slowly returning and some were bringing goods to trade or sell.
Declan said, ‘Wine tonight. It will do the older men some good and there’s not enough for anyone to get drunk and do something stupid.’ He glanced back at the box and motioned for Sixto to close the bag. ‘Whoever that merchant was, he’s either dead or miles away, or that gold would not have been there to find.’ He threw Sixto a questioning look. ‘Just how did you come to find it?’
‘It was a cold cellar, a good one I think, as I still felt some coolness lingering there. The floor was covered in glass from broken bottles, and the place reeked of spilled wine. Those three bottles had rolled into the corner and had been ignored by whoever looted the cellar, but the small cask sat alone atop a smaller rack, and I wondered why it had been left. I turned a spigot and nothing came out. So I yanked hard, and the false front came off and therein sat that box.’
Declan laughed. ‘You have the makings of a thief yet.’
‘I think not. If the raiders hadn’t drunk themselves stupid, they might have found the box.’
‘Well, some good fortune at last. Find a quiet corner when you can and count it out.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m nagged by that boat floating out there and am going to see if I can find a dory to row over there.’
Sixto nodded. ‘I’m curious as well. Let me give the bag to Tobias to watch, and I’ll come with you.’
Declan nodded and in a few minutes they were both walking northwards along the quay. ‘Before we got run out of the city,’ Declan began, ‘I recall the small boatyards were farther up that way.’ He pointed ahead of them.
‘Nothing near the south gate, as I recall,’ said Sixto.
‘How far north did you go with your scavenging?’
‘About halfway, moving from the docks, travelling northeast, then back. Just about everywhere south of the big market square leads to the central city gate, the one the raiders came through. I was planning on starting on the other side of the square next.’
Declan walked to the edge of the quay and peered down.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘It’s possible a longboat overturned and sank, without being holed.’
Sixto came over and peered in. ‘I see only mud.’
Declan nodded. ‘If it’s more than six feet down, we’ll see nothing.’ He abandoned the edge of the quay to continue on with Sixto.
Nearing the centre of the city, he noticed more people hovering in doorways and moving along the streets. There was nothing resembling order yet, so people were wary of the sight of two armed fighters, and vanished around corners, closed doors, or shuttered windows as they approached.
A few more adventurous or avaricious souls had set up makeshift shops in abandoned stores, or were selling out of carts, or under hastily erected stands comprising little more than four poles supporting a large piece of cloth.
‘Life returns, if slowly,’ observed Sixto.
They saw more people the farther northwest they walked.
Declan stopped, and looked around, getting his bearings. ‘We docked up there, right?’ he asked, pointing off to the northwest end of the quay.
‘Yes,’ Sixto replied.
‘Then we came towards here …’ Declan said. He looked around once more. ‘And we were running past here …’ He pointed. ‘That boat-seller is up ahead.’
‘The frantic one?’
‘He was the only one we talked to,’ Declan replied with a mock scowl.
The dockside was returning to business, and Declan and Sixto found the boat-seller in the same place he had been when everyone fled south. He was a little more haggard-looking, but his clothes were cleaner, and where jewellery had left white bands on his fingers, several gaudy rings now rested.
‘My friends!’ he said with a seller’s enthusiasm. ‘You survived! How wonderful! You seek a boat, yes?’
Declan scanned the area, noting that where low trestles had stood before, supporting each boat, now only empty ground was evident. ‘We were, but you seem to be lacking boats.’
‘They are all safe,’ said the merchant. ‘Garange knows when trouble comes, to swiftly hide the boats.’ He beckoned them to follow. ‘Come, I’ll show you.’
‘You’re Garange?’ asked Declan.
‘It is so,’ replied their guide.
He led them through a street adjacent to the store and then down a winding narrow alley to a warehouse. ‘This is not an easy place to find,’ Garange said. He produced a large iron key and fitted it into the largest lock Declan had ever seen, and with a bit of trouble got the lock to turn. It released a bolt which passed through two huge rings, one in the wall, the other matched to it on a big wooden door. ‘Besides,’ he said as he pushed the door open, rolling it into a pocket on the other side, ‘what do horsemen want with boats? I hide them here so they don’t break them out of spite.’
Declan saw half a dozen dories and skiffs of various sizes resting on wooden trestles. He pointed to one and said, ‘That’s the crab claw you were going to sell us before the raid.’
‘Yes! Most excellent choice.’
Declan considered something for a moment, then turned to Sixto. ‘Most of the men could use a few days’ more rest, so we can still complete our task.’
Sixto nodded, knowing that Declan meant the three or so days it would take to go fetch the precious forging sand.
‘Besides, what we really need is a ship.’
Garange’s eyes widened and his expression became one of genuine happiness. ‘You have need of a ship? I can arrange that! I am also a broker!’
Declan’s gaze narrowed. ‘A broker?’
‘Garange has all things necessary to travel to and from Abala! I am a seller of boats, camels, horses, wagons, and carts, and a provisioner as well.’ His demeanour became a little less enthusiastic as he added, ‘Though, to be honest, my store of provisions is somewhat lacking. I’ve sent word up the coast, so more fresh food should be arriving soon.’
‘Where is the ship?’ asked Declan.
‘When the raiders come, sails drop and anchors are raised, but many of those crews are ashore, so some ships sail short-handed and hide.’
‘Anchored off the westward islands!’ Declan exclaimed.
‘It is so,’ said Garange. ‘I only need to send a message, and have a ship here in a few days, then avail myself of sufficient crew for a full voyage. Where do you wish to travel?’
‘Marquensas,’ answered Declan.
Garange nodded, considering for a moment before saying, ‘That is a long voyage, and needs a goodly ship and crew. And many provisions.’ He looked at Sixto and Declan. ‘Besides yourselves, the crew must eat.’
‘And thirty-six more,’ said Declan.
‘Ah, that is a lot of food.’
‘The cost?’ asked Sixto.
‘These are hard times as you know, my friends.’ Garange looked calculating as he inspected them closely, trying to ascertain just how much he might get from two bedraggled-looking fighters. ‘And so, perhaps more than—’
‘Name a price,’ Declan said calmly.
‘For the longboat, three gold.’
‘Done,’ said Declan. ‘Now, to the ship?’
‘First, I must find a captain willing to take that voyage, and many will say no. And then I need to negotiate—’
‘Price?’
‘For my services, five more gold, but the price for the voyage will be between you and the captain.’
Declan glanced at Sixto and said, ‘We will be back in an hour’s time. You’ll have your gold. And whatever provisions you have coming into the city, you’ll hold for us and not sell off to others first, agreed?’
The merchant cocked his head, then realized he had a selling advantage, so smiled and nodded.
As Declan and Sixto began retracing their steps back to the inn, Garange closed the door and refitted the lock.
HAVA HELPED REEF IN THE sails, while Catharian held the helm steady, and Red Sweeney dropped anchor. Hava knew it was almost useless unless it hooked something on the bottom, but the drag would at least stop the boat from drifting too far off course with the current.
Sweeney’s ship was anchored just off a small island a morning’s sail away, and the three of them were now heading towards the mainland in a dinghy powered by oars and a single sail.
‘What do we do now?’ Catharian asked when the boat came to a halt.
‘We wait,’ answered Red Sweeney.
‘For what?’ Catharian looked impatient.
‘To be seen,’ said Red Sweeney. Looking at Hava he asked, ‘Is he always this full of questions?’
Hava gave a small chuckle. ‘You have no idea. He was a spy for years.’
‘Oh!’ said Red Sweeney. ‘That explains a lot.’ He gave Catharian another up-and-down once-over, and said, ‘Brilliant! You don’t look in the least bit dangerous.’
Hava realized Red Sweeney took the word to mean a spy in the Azhante context. She thought it best not to disabuse him of the idea: it might gain Catharian some respect. So far, Red Sweeney had been treating Catharian as if he was Hava’s servant.
Hava said, ‘Explain “to be seen”.’
‘If we sail right in before they know who we are we may not live long enough to be recognized. As soon as the light fades, either they’ll have figured out it’s me, or I’ll use a shuttered lantern to signal. Once it’s safe, we’ll go ashore.’
‘So we just sit until then?’
‘That’s the plan,’ said Red Sweeney.
‘So,’ began Hava, ‘while we wait, let’s talk about Nytanny over there, the pie?’
Red Sweeney shrugged. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘At one point you said that the Azhante sometimes stop wars or sometimes help one side to win, and what I want to know is, is there a pattern to those decisions?’
‘The only pattern I can see is to keep the nations under control.’ Red Sweeney thought about the question some more, then added, ‘There are legends.’
Hava nodded.
‘Time was, they say, when whatever is inside the Curb … some call them “Dark Masters” … took people, to keep a balance here, maybe over all of Garn.
‘Then something happened, no one knows exactly what. Stories of great tears in the sky, through which magical beasts entered the world. Legends of wars between people and the Dark Masters. Then, many more stories and legends. It was a time lost to any history, then there was another change. Again, no one knows the truth, just speculation. After whatever that change was, the Pride Lords rose. They were traders, clans of some sort, not by blood, but by association.’
Red Sweeney stopped for a moment, concentrating hard as if trying to unravel a complex knot.
‘To begin with the Dark Masters lived within the Curb, so the stories go, and left the people of Nytanny alone, except at times of feast or celebration, though that is hardly the word. A rite of some sort? Sacrifices were demanded. I don’t know exactly, but whatever it was, a time came when people had to send … had to be sent, to the land inside the Curb. That was the only time people outside the Curb were allowed to enter without being destroyed.’
‘Go on,’ said Hava.
Red Sweeney slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know what’s true, and what’s a story made up by madmen or drunks, but it’s said that when the Dark Masters stopped culling the nations, the nations grew and became more contentious.
‘Look,’ he added, ‘there are always people who will seek to take advantage, even in the worst of times. The Pride Lords were just better at it than everyone else.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘I never once in my life set out to commit murder, but I’ve killed a fair share and more along the way. Sometimes you find you have no choice.’
Hava nodded.
‘Some people like killing,’ Red Sweeney continued, ‘but not me. I’ll cut a man’s throat in a heartbeat if I must, but I take no pleasure in it. Mainly because it’s bad for business.’
Hava grinned.
‘Now, maybe someone up in Akena knows truth from legend,’ Red Sweeney said, ‘but whatever happened, here is what we know today. According to the Pride Lords these so-called Dark Masters are rumoured to be about to return any moment, so we all must behave. They probably told the same thing to my grandfather, and maybe his as well, for all I know.’ He shrugged. ‘Apparently, some people got impatient with the Prides telling them how they should behave when there was no sign of the Dark Masters, so the Prides created the Azhante in order to maintain control.
‘They’d take children from different families, train them up as an army. Made their whole family behave. Shared punishment, you see? They kill you for some misdeed, but they’ll also kill your family. Even so, rebellions erupted, and the Azhante put the rebellions down, with the help of any other nation that wanted to stay on the Prides’ good side.
‘Now, these Prides,’ Red Sweeney continued, ‘they don’t fight each other direct, but their respective fortunes rise and fall within their big city up there. Akena.’ He pointed in the general direction. ‘Since I was a little boy, the Golden Pride has been the big power.’
‘Why “Pride”?’ asked Catharian.
‘I don’t know, like maybe after lions or something? Big cats roam the grasslands here. It’s just a name. But they all are this Pride or that Pride. Some are named after animals, like Tigers and Jaguars – more big cats.’
Hava nodded that she knew what they were.
Red Sweeney continued. ‘Others after gems like Opal or Onyx, or … whatever some founder thought was bold, Thunder, Storm, anything. The Golden Pride was something else to start with, I forget what, but the grandfather of the current Pride Lord got really powerful, renamed his lot the Golden Pride, and they’ve hung on to control of everything for a long time, three generations or more, and his Pride has more control of the Azhante than any other. Those tough bastards you seem to have no trouble killing’ – he pointed at Hava – ‘are his father’s creation, the special spies and assassins.’
Hava was silent for a minute as she considered what she had heard. ‘Seems to me there may be a lot of people here who might want to see the reign of the Pride Lords ended.’
‘Want to? Absolutely,’ said Red Sweeney. ‘Willing to help, probably none. Not while a party of Azhante assassins might show up in the dead of night and slaughter your entire town or village.’
Hava glanced at Catharian, then looked back at Red Sweeney. ‘I may have an answer for that.’
Red Sweeney smiled. ‘That’s why I’m here with you. That’s an answer I want explained.’
‘In time,’ said Hava.
‘There,’ said Red Sweeney, pointing ashore. Hava and Catharian saw a lantern being swung from the beach. The sun was now behind high bluffs to their west.
‘Switch with me’, he said to Catharian, ‘and pull up the anchor.’ To Hava he said, ‘Take the tiller.’ He reached down and pulled up a pair of oars, and when the anchor was up, he handed one to Catharian. Catharian sat next to Red Sweeney, who said, ‘And … pull!’ They easily got into a rowing rhythm and Red Sweeney said, ‘Just steer towards the light. There’s a deep shelf, so she’ll anchor to sand and we can go ashore.’
Hava did as instructed and within minutes they were out of the longboat, wading ashore. Three men approached in the twilight, one barely more than a boy, holding the lantern. He had now shuttered it as it was no longer necessary.
The other two appeared to be father and son, perhaps all three from a family. The oldest man said, ‘Red Sweeney, you dog robber! I thought you said you had quit the game.’
‘Dog robber?’ replied Red Sweeney with a smile. ‘If there’s a thieving bastard anywhere around here, I’m looking at him!’
Both men laughed and embraced.
‘Who are your friends?’ asked the oldest man.
‘Let’s get inside before we do introductions,’ said Red Sweeney and he led the way up the beach.
As night fell, they reached a pathway through a stand of trees above the verge of sand, and continuing on they came to a few ramshackle buildings. All had their windows facing the ocean shuttered, but when they climbed a wooden set of steps up to a porch, and the door was opened, light flooded out.
It looked something like an inn, but the shabbiest inn Hava had ever seen. A pair of tables were on each side of the door, and a bar, comprised of two planks atop two barrels, stood against the wall opposite bearing jugs and bottles and empty pottery mugs.
‘Help yourself,’ said the old man, pointing at the makeshift bar.
Catharian went to examine the choices.
