Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (29 page)

 
          
"The
Kand captain's name is Rahamman ek'Jemm and his ship is the
Sea Dancer.
He sails on the dawn tide. Darth knows the mooring." He nodded in the
direction of the driver. "I have paid ek'Jemm fifty varre and you will
give him the same amount when you land at Mher- ut'yi."

 
          
He
took Calandryll's hand in both of his, his aquiline features solemn as he
added, "You embark on a heroic quest. Find Tezin-dar and bring me the
Arcanum, and we'll end this threat forever. The fate of the world lies in your
hands! May Dera ward you both."

 
          
He
encompassed Bracht in his look; the freesword answered with an impassive stare.
Calandryll said, "Trust in us, Lord Varent."

           
"I do," came the answer.
"Now go, lest you miss the tide. I remain here to decoy any spies of our
enemy."

 
          
He
released his grip and Calandryll clambered into the carriage, Bracht close
behind. Varent raised a hand in farewell and Darth flicked the reins, easing
the team toward the opening gates.

 
          
They
turned onto the street, mist or magic—Calandryll was not sure which—muffling
the hoofbeats, the avenue shrouded, the mansion soon lost in the swirling
brume. Neither spoke as they traversed the city, as if the weight of their
mission stilled their tongues, the enormity of what they attempted become more
real now the journey was begun. Calandryll thought of Reba's prophecy, so far
come true: he had lost Nadama but gained two comrades, and he would, soon,
travel far.

 
          
Over
water.

 
          
Beware
the water.

           
"Dera!" he groaned.
"I'd forgotten that."

 
          
"What?"
Bracht looked up from his own musing.

 
          
"The
spaewife warned of water—I'd planned to sacrifice to Burash."

 
          
Bracht
shrugged. "Perhaps the Kand boat carries an altar."

 
          
"Perhaps."
Calandryll fingered the red stone nervously. "I hope so."

 
          
He
looked to the carriage windows, seeing only the mist, cut here and there with
the faint glow of lanterns as folk rose, hearing a dog bark, smelling the
moist, salt- tainted air.

 
          
"There'll
be temples enough in
Kandahar
," Bracht said.

 
          
"Still,
I wish I'd remembered."

 
          
He
turned to watch the shapes of buildings drift by, obscured by the fog,
mysterious, the roadway empty, the sun not yet even a promise. Droplets hung
like jewels on the budding leaves of trees, and when they crossed a park the
greensward shone a ghostly silver, phosphorescent in the eerie light. He
realized they had reached the city wall when the carriage halted and soldiers
came like wraiths out of the obscurity. Darth exchanged a few words; a document
was examined. Calandryll heard Varent's name mentioned, then a postern was
opened and the carriage trundled through a tunnel lit red by torches.

 
          
The
familiar sound of surf breaking against stone told him they moved along the
mole. A breeze stirred off the sea, the smell of salt stronger, mingled with
the harbor odors of tar and wet rope and fish. The mist began to break, masts
visible, bobbing on the tide, and the bulwarks of ships, creaking at their
moorings as though waking and anxious to sail. The carriage halted again and
Darth sprang down.

 
          
"The
Sea Dancer
lies there."

 
          
He
pointed to a dark bulk that seemed to hang suspended in the swirling grey,
three masts standing tall, sails slapping fitfully in the rising breeze.

 
          
Calandryll
and Bracht descended to the slippery cobbles, their baggage on their shoulders.

 
          
"My
horse," the Kern turned to Darth, "Should I not return, he's
yours."

 
          
"My
thanks." The man nodded. "Dera guide you."

 
          
"Ahrd
is my god," the Kern said.

 
          
Darth
shrugged.

 
          
Calandryll
said, "A favor?" and Darth ducked his head.

 
          
He
brought a varre from his satchel; passed the coin to the man. "Make
sacrifice to Burash. Ask that he look with favor on our journey." He would
have preferred to attend the matter himself, but this might do.

 
          
"As
you wish," Darth said, then turned as a bulky figure came toward them.

 
          
"Are
you my passengers?"

 
          
His
voice was harsh, the Lyssian he spoke shaped by the tongue of
Kandahar
. He was short and fat, his girth
accentuated by the heavy green cape he clutched about him, black-bearded, a
golden hoop hung from either ear, a white cloth wound about his head.

 
          
"You
are Rahamman ek'Jemm?" Calandryll asked.

 
          
"Ship's
master Rahamman ek'Jemm," the Kand corrected. "You'll address me as
captain whilst aboard my vessel.

 
          
"We're
your passengers," Bracht said. "Captain."

 
          
Ek'Jemm
granted, studying them as though calculating their weight, then nodded.

 
          
"Come
on board. The tide's on the turn and I'd be gone."

 
          
Without
further ado he spun about and strode away. Calandryll saw that he walked with a
rolling gait. He moved to follow,- realized that Bracht hesitated and glanced
at the mercenary. The freesword appeared nervous, reluctant to climb the
gangplank revealed by the clearing mist.

 
          
"I've
never been on a ship," he muttered.

 
          
Calandryll
suppressed a laugh: in this at least he had an advantage.

 
          
"You'll
grow used to it soon enough," he promised.

 
          
"Burash
rot you! Do you come on board or do I sail without you?"

 
          
The
captain's voice boomed from above and Calandryll beckoned his companion. Bracht
sighed noisily and began to climb the gangplank.

 
          
Rahamman
ek'Jemm met them at the head, gesturing sternward. "Wait there. I've a
tide to catch, so you stay out of the way." It seemed an afterthought to
add, "You share a cabin, but that I'll show you later."

 
          
He
bustled off, his gait no longer odd, better suited to the swaying deck than
their own landlubbers' walk, bellowing orders as he went. Calandryll led the
way aft, past busy sailors galvanized to action by their captain's roaring, and
found a place beneath the high poop. He dropped his baggage and settled himself
against the planking, Bracht at his side.

 
          
The
Sea Dancer
was a sizable craft of typical Kand design, wide-bellied,
with poop and forecastle overlooking the main deck, arbalests mounted on both.
Her three masts carried square sails that rose now to the accompaniment of
ek'Jemm's shouting, filling as they caught the wind and the vessel turned
ponderously from the harbor. Instantly her swaying was more pronounced and
Calandryll heard Bracht groan, turning to see the Kem pale beneath his tan.

 
          
"Seasickness
passes," he advised cheerfully, refusing to allow the mercenary's
discomfort to dampen his own growing enthusiasm.

 
          
Bracht's
only response was a heartfelt sigh and Calandryll climbed to his feet to watch
Aldarin disappear behind them.

 
          
The
city was still hung with tatters of mist, but now the walls were visible, rising
out of the grey, the sky beyond brightening as the sun approached the horizon.
At the farther end of the river valley a band of reddish gold stretched from
hillside to hillside, surmounted by a growing swath of blue that extended
itself as he watched, spreading out to swallow the grey. Then pure brilliance
shone down the length of the Alda as the sun came up, driving off the last
vestiges of fog to bathe the city in golden light. He turned, looking ahead,
and saw the moon low on the western horizon, the sky there still dark, but
brightening as day overtook the world. Soon the sky was blue, long ribbons of
pristine white cloud strung out high overhead by the same wind that carried
them toward
Kandahar
, and he felt excitement grip him: now the
quest was truly begun.

 
          
A
moan from Bracht tore him from his observation and he saw the Kem rise awkwardly,
stumbling to the bulwarks to hang over the surging ocean, shoulders heaving as
he emptied his breakfast into the waves.

 
          
"Landlubber."
Rahamman ek'Jemm's harsh voice rang contemptuous in his ear. "What is he,
a Kem?"

 
          
Calandryll
nodded.

 
          
"You're
not afflicted?" the captain demanded.

 
          
"No."
He shook his head. "I've sailed before, though not on so grand a
vessel."

 
          
That
seemed to please the Kand, for his plump face creased in a brief smile and he
nodded approvingly.

 
          
"The
old
Sea Dancer's
a stout craft, sure enough. What've you used? Those
little toys you Lyssians call boats?"

 
          
He
thought of the small craft he had sailed in Secca s harbor and said,
"Dinghies. A caravel, once."

 
          
Ek'Jemm
snorted. "Coastal craft. You need a ship with heart to cross the
Narrow
Sea
." He stabbed a finger in Bracht's
direction. "When he's empty I'll have a man show you your cabins."

 
          
"Thank
you," Calandryll said. "Do you carry an altar to Burash,
Captain?"

 
          
The
Kand showed surprise, green eyes narrowing until they were almost hidden in the
fleshy folds of his face.

 
          
"You're
a Dera-lover if you're from Lysse. And you're no seaman—why d'you want to
sacrifice to Burash?"

 
          
"I
travel over water, and the sea's his domain."

 
          
The
explanation was sound enough: the Kand nodded, gesturing at the ocean. "We
need no altars when he's all around us. The ocean's his temple."

           
Calandryll nodded. "Are there
forms I need observe? What might he accept?"

 
          
"The
priests have rituals," ek'Jemm rumbled, "but Burash'll hear you if
he's in the mood to listen, and there's no priest on board. The sacrifice?
What's precious to you? Give him something precious."

 
          
Calandryll
thought for a moment. A book would be precious to him, but he had none with
him; the map, the red stone, they were too precious to give up. He might need
his sword. "Might this be accepted?" he asked, drawing the signet
from his ring finger.

 
          
Ek'Jemm
shrugged: Calandryll decided the ring must do. He walked to the rail, standing
upwind from the heaving Bracht, hand extended over the waves.

 
          
"Hear
me, Burash," he murmured. "I ask that you favor this journey. We
travel your domain and I ask that you grant us safe passage over all your
waters."