One Tree (36 page)

But Pitchwife was still speaking. He drew her attention back to the Harbor. The morning sun burned along the water.

“Yet the
Bhrathair
have flourished mightily. They lack much which is needful for a prosperous life, for it is said that in all
Bhrathairealm
are only five springs of fresh water and two plots of
arable ground. But also they possess much which other peoples covet. Under Kasreyn’s peace, trade has abounded. And the
Bhrathair
have become prolific shipwrights, that they may reach out to their distant neighbors. The tales which we have heard of
Bhrathairain
and the Sandhold convey echoes of mistrust—and yet, behold. This is clearly not a place of mistrust.”

Linden saw what he meant. As Starfare’s Gem approached the piers and levees at the foot of the town, she discerned more clearly the scores of ships there, the bustling activity of the docks. In the Harbor—some at the piers, some at berths around the Sandwall—were a variety of warships: huge penteconters; triremes with iron prows for ramming; galleasses armed with catapults. But their presence seemed to have no effect on the plethora of other vessels which crowded the place. Brigantines, windjammers, sloops, merchantmen of every description teemed at the piers, creating a forest of masts and spars against the busy background of the town. Any distrust which afflicted
Bhrathairealm
had no influence upon the vitality of its commerce.

And the air was full of birds. Gulls, crows, and cormorants wheeled and squalled over the masts, among the spars, perching on the roofs of
Bhrathairain
, feeding on the spillage and detritus of the ships. Hawks and kites circled watchfully over both town and Harbor.
Bhrathairealm
must have been thriving indeed, if it could feast so many loud scavengers.

Linden was glad to see them. Perhaps they were neither clean nor gay; but they were alive. And they lent support to the Harbor’s reputation as a welcoming port.

When the
dromond
drew close enough to hear the hubbub of the docks, a skiff came shooting out into the open water. Four swarthy men stroked the boat swiftly toward the Giantship; a fifth stood in the stern. Before the skiff was within clear hail, this individual began gesticulating purposefully at Starfare’s Gem.

Linden’s perplexity must have shown on her face, for Pitchwife replied with a low chuckle, “Doubtless he seeks to guide us to a berth which may accommodate a ship of our draught.”

She soon saw that her companion was right. When Honninscrave obeyed the
Bhrathair
’s gestures, the skiff swung ahead of the Giantship and pulled back toward the docks. By following, Honninscrave shortly brought Starfare’s Gem to a deep levee between jutting piers.

Dockworkers waited there to help the ship to its berth. However, they quickly learned that they could do little for the
dromond
. The hawsers which were thrown to the piers were too massive for them to handle effectively. As Giants disembarked to secure their vessel, the
Bhrathair
moved back in astonishment and observed the great stone craft from the head of the levee. Shortly a crowd gathered around them—other dockworkers, sailors from nearby ships, merchants and townspeople who had never seen a Giantship.

Linden studied them with interest while they watched the
dromond
. Most of their exclamations were in tongues she did not know. They were people of every hue and form; and their apparel ranged from habiliments as plain as those which Sunder and Hollian had worn to exotic regalia, woven of silk and taffeta in bright colors, which would have suited a sultan. An occasional sailor—perhaps the captain of a vessel, or its owner—was luxuriously caparisoned. But primarily the bravado of raiment belonged to the
Bhrathair
themselves. They were unquestionably prosperous. And prosperity had given them a taste for ostentation.

Then a stirring passed through the crowd as a man breasted his way out onto the pier. He was as swarthy as the men who had rowed the
skiff, but his clothing indicated higher rank. He wore a tunic and trousers of a rich black material which shone like satin; his belt had been woven of a vivid silvery metal; and at his right shoulder was pinned a silver cockade like a badge of office. He strode forward as if to show the throng that a ship the size of Starfare’s Gem could not daunt him, then stopped below the afterdeck and waited with a glower of impatience for the invitation and the means to come aboard.

At Honninscrave’s order, a ladder was set for the black-clad personage. With Pitchwife, Linden moved closer to the ladder. The First and Seadreamer had joined the Master there, and Brinn had brought Covenant up from his cabin. Cail stood behind Linden’s left shoulder; Ceer and Hergrom were nearby. Only Vain and Findail chose to ignore the arrival of the
Bhrathair
.

A moment later, the man climbed through the railing to stand before the assembled company. “I am the Harbor Captain,” he said without preamble. He had a guttural voice which was exaggerated in Linden’s ears by the fact that he was not speaking his native language. “You must have my grant in order to berth or do trade here. Give me first your names and the name of your ship.”

Honninscrave glanced at the First; but she did not step forward. To the Harbor Captain, he said evenly, “This vessel is the
dromond
Starfare’s Gem. I am its Master, Grimmand Honninscrave.”

The official made a note on a wax tablet he carried. “And these others?”

Honninscrave stiffened at the man’s tone. “They are Giants, and the friends of Giants.” Then he added, “In times past, the Giants were deemed allies among the
Bhrathair
.”

“In times past,” the Harbor Captain retorted with a direct glare, “the world was not what it is. My duty cares nothing for dead alliances. If you do not deal openly with me, my judgment will be weighed against you.”

The First’s eyes gnashed with ready anger; but her hand gripped an empty scabbard, and she held herself still. Swallowing his vexation with an effort, Honninscrave named his companions.

The
Bhrathair
wrote officiously on his tablet. “Very well,” he said as he finished. “What is your cargo?”

“Cargo?” echoed Honninscrave darkly. “We have no cargo.”

“None?” the Harbor Captain snapped in sudden indignation. “Have you not come to do trade with us?”

The Master folded his arms across his massive chest. “No.”

“Then you are mad. What is your purpose?”

“Your eyes will tell you our purpose.” The Giant’s voice grated like boulders rubbing together. “We have suffered severe harm in a great storm. We come seeking stone with which to work repairs and replenishment for our stores.”

“Paugh!” spat the
Bhrathair
. “You are ignorant, Giant—or a fool.” He spoke like the heat, as if his temper had been formed by the constant oppression of the desert sun. “We are the
Bhrathair
, not some peasant folk you may intimidate with your bulk. We live on the verge of the Great Desert, and our lives are exigent. What comfort we possess, we gain from trade. I grant nothing when I am offered nothing in return. If you have no cargo, you must purchase what you desire by some other coin. If you lack such coin, you must depart. That is my word.”

Honninscrave held himself still; but he looked ready for any peril. “And if we do not choose to depart? Should you seek combat from us, you will learn to your cost that two-score Giants are not blithely beaten.”

The Harbor Captain did not hesitate; his confidence in his office was complete. “If you choose neither payment nor departure, your ship will be destroyed before nightfall. No man or woman here will lift hand against you. You will be free to go ashore, thieve all you desire. And while you do so, five galleasses with catapults will batter your ship with such stones and exploding fires that it will fall to rubble where it sits.”

For a moment, the Master of Starfare’s Gem did not respond. Linden feared that he had no response, that she had made a fatal mistake in choosing to come here. No one moved or spoke.

Overhead a few birds flitted downward to investigate the
dromond
, then scaled away again.

Quietly Honninscrave said, “Sevinhand.” His voice carried to the Anchormaster on the wheeldeck. “Secure the
dromond
for assault. Prepare to forage supplies and depart. Galewrath.” The Storesmaster stood nearby. “Take this Harbor Captain.” At once, she stepped forward, clamped one huge fist around the
Bhrathair
’s neck. “He is swift to call down harm upon the needy. Let him share whatever harm we suffer.”

“Fools!” The official tried to rage, but the indignity of Galewrath’s grasp made him look apoplectic and wild. “There is no wind! You are trapped until the evening breeze!”

“Then you are likewise snared,” replied Honninscrave evenly. “For the while, we will content ourselves by teaching your Harbor to comprehend the wrath of Giants. Our friendship was not lightly given in the need of the
Bhrathair
against the Sandgorgons. You will learn that our enmity may not be lightly borne.”

Commotion broke out among the onlookers around the levee. Instinctively Linden swung around to see if they meant to attack the
dromond
.

In a moment, she perceived that their activity was not a threat. Rather, the throng was being roughly parted by five men on horseback.

Riding destriers as black as midnight, the five forced their way forward. They were clearly soldiers. Over their black shirts and leggings, they wore breastplates and greaves of a silverine metal; and they had quivers and crossbows at their backs, short swords at their sides, shields on their arms. As they broke out of the crowd, they stretched their mounts into a gallop down the pier, then reined sharply to a halt at the
dromond
’s ladder.

Four of them remained astride their horses; the fifth, who wore an emblem like a black sun in the center of his breastplate, dismounted swiftly and leaped at the ladder. Quickly he gained the afterdeck. Ceer, Hergrom, and the Giants poised themselves; but the soldier did not challenge them. He cast a glance of appraisal around the deck, then turned on the official half dangling in Galewrath’s grip and began to shout at him.

The soldier spoke a brackish language which Linden did not understand—the native tongue of the
Bhrathair
. The Harbor Captain’s replies were somewhat choked by Galewrath’s fist; but he seemed to be defending himself. At the same time, Pitchwife gave Linden’s shoulder a gentle nudge. When she looked at him, he winked deliberately. With a start, she remembered the Giantish gift of tongues—and remembered to keep it secret. The rest of the Giants remained expressionless.

After a yell which made the Harbor Captain appear especially crestfallen, the soldier faced Honninscrave and the First. “Your pardon,” he said. “The Harbor Captain’s duty is clear, but he comprehends it narrowly”—the venom of his tone was directed at the official—“and understands little else at all. I am Rire Grist,
Caitiffin of the
gaddhi
’s Horse. The coming of your ship was seen in the Sandhold, and I was sent to give welcome. Alas, I was delayed in the crowded streets and did not arrive in time to prevent misapprehension.”

Before Honninscrave could speak, the Caitiffin went on, “You may release this duty-proud man. He understands now that you must be given every aid in his grant, for the sake of the old friendship of the Giants, and also in the name of the
gaddhi
’s will. I am certain that all your wants will be answered promptly—and courteously,” he added over his shoulder to the Harbor Captain. “Will you not free him?”

“In a moment,” Honninscrave rumbled. “It would please me to hear you speak further concerning the
gaddhi
’s will toward us.”

“Assuredly,” replied Rire Grist with a bow. “Rant Absolain,
gaddhi
of
Bhrathairealm
, wishes you well. He desires that you be granted the fullest welcome of your need. And he asks those among you who may be spared from the labor of your ship to be his guests in the Sandhold. Neither he nor his Kemper, Kasreyn of the Gyre, have known Giants, and both are anxious to rectify their lack.”

“You speak hospitably,” Honninscrave’s tone was noncommittal. “But you will understand that our confidence has been somewhat daunted. Grant a moment for consultation with my friends.”

“Your vessel is your own,” responded the Caitiffin easily. He seemed adept at smoothing the path of the
gaddhi
’s will. “I do not presume to hasten you.”

“That is well.” A hard humor had returned to Honninscrave’s eyes. “The Giants are not a hasty people.” With a bow like an ironic mimesis of courtesy, he moved away toward the wheeldeck.

Linden followed Honninscrave with the First, Seadreamer, and Pitchwife. Cail accompanied her; Brinn brought Covenant. Ascending to the wheeldeck, they gathered around Shipsheartthew, where they were safely beyond earshot of Rire Grist.

At once, Honninscrave dropped the role he had taken in front of the
Bhrathair
, resumed his accustomed deference to the First. In a soft voice, he asked her, “What think you?”

“I mislike it,” she growled. “This welcome is altogether too propitious. A people who must have the
gaddhi
’s express command ere they will grant aid to the simple fact of sea-harm are somewhat unscrupling for my taste.”

“Yet have we choice in the matter?” inquired Pitchwife. “A welcome so strangely given may also be strangely rescinded. It is manifest that we require this
gaddhi
’s goodwill. Surely we will forfeit that goodwill, should we refuse his proffer.”

“Aye,” the First retorted. “And we will forfeit it also if we set one foot or word amiss in that donjon, the Sandhold. There our freedom will be as frail as the courtesy of
Bhrathairealm
.”

She and Honninscrave looked at Seadreamer, asking him for the advice of the Earth-Sight. But he shook his head; he had no guidance to offer them.

Then all their attention was focused on Linden. She had not spoken since the arrival of the Harbor Captain. The hot sunlight seemed to cast a haze like an omen of incapacity over her thoughts. The Sandhold loomed over
Bhrathairain—
an image in stone of the gyring power which had created Sandgorgons Doom. Intuitions for which she had no name told her that the
gaddhi
and his Kemper represented both hazard and opportunity. She had to struggle against a growing inner confusion in order to meet the eyes of the Giants.