Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1) (21 page)

“Don’t worry,” Dist said to Nerris’s dubious glare. “Just a couple of hours until Orrigo.”

At that point, Jhareth barged his way up onto the deck and stomped toward them, his damp boots squishing on the wood. “You have a problem,” he said to Jorga.

“What is it?”

“You’ve got holes in your boat.”

“Balderdash.”

Jhareth pointed down. “I was in the hold. The water was up to my ankles.”

Jorga’s eyes went wide and he went forth, shouting orders. “All free hands to the hold! You there, put down that hawser and come with me. No, Dakens, stay at the rigging. The rest of you, with me! And someone bring buckets!” Jorga and his men disappeared below deck.

“What were you stealing?” Dist asked Jhareth.

“Nothing,” Jhareth replied. “Everything was too wet.”

Nerris took another swig of ale. “I should have thought of this before. The more I drink, the less I care if we sink or not. What’s the plan when we get ashore?”

“I figure you and Len-Ahl can track down our scholar,” Jhareth said. “You’re more suited to treat with someone like that than I am. I’ll acquire horses for whatever destination the scrolls lead us to. We’ll need some other things as well; cooking pots, pans, rain shelters, and the like.”

“What about me?” Dist asked.

“You hire a messenger to send to King Owen,” Jhareth said.

“Yes, he’ll need to know what happened in Faerlin,” Nerris said. “Sooner or later, news of Ceder Duchois’s death will reach him, and it’s best if he hears our account. If Qabala does invade, I fear I may have handed her Agos on a silver platter.”

“You really think Lord Laque will let her march through his lands?” Jhareth asked.

“He won’t join her as long as Owen holds his younger son,” Nerris said. “But he has no love lost for House Palwell or us.”

“You still haven’t told us what Len-Ahl said to you,” Dist said. “Some of the seamen said they saw you two having a fairly intimate conversation the first night of the voyage. What’s going on?”

Nerris told them everything Len-Ahl had said, aside from the part where she offered to be his protector. He would never hear the end of it if he revealed that.

Jhareth scratched at his goatee. “The Exemplus is a stone, is it? Made of some precious metal, I would wager.”

“I don’t think this is the kind of stone you can sell,” Nerris said.

“Who cares?” Jhareth said.

“Come again?”

“From now until the end of time, they will say it was the Thrillseekers who found the Exemplus,” he said, almost twitching with excitement. “That is worth more than any amount of money, I would say.”

“If we don’t drown first,” Dist said, glancing down at the water.

However, Jorga’s men were able to patch the holes in the bowels of the ship with wood and resin, and the Sea Tart made it to port after all. Only after the hawsers were tied, the sails furled, and the captain and his men ashore for a night of carousing did their patchwork come undone. When they returned later that night,
The Sea Tart
had sunk to its mast.

Chapter Twenty-One

ORRIGO WAS A cozy port which sprawled across the Agossean north coast. Though the harbor was as raucous as any in Tormalia, the rest of the city was marked by its quiet and tranquility. It boasted no university of its own, but played home to many smaller schools dedicated to crafts such as the healing arts. Many retired professors and scholars from Faerlin’s university resided there, and it boasted Tormalia’s only public library. The emphasis on culture and knowledge had led to Orrigo being dubbed the City of Enlightenment.

However, the brothel Dist stood in front of was anything but cultured. It was a well-kept, yet unobtrusive building to be sure, and looked a sight better than some of the ramshackle places down in the harbor or in the seedier parts of Faerlin. It was in a good part of town, lingering on the edge of a small square with a sculpted fountain. A few residents sat on their stoops, basking in the warm spring sun, and a group of children ran by, engrossed in a game of Blind Man’s Bluff.

It was midday when Dist stepped through the door of the Happy End Brothel, which meant business was slow. A young woman covered in freckles stood behind a bar, wearing a skin-tight shift and not much else. Dist gave her a smile as he wandered farther inward. An overweight man sat at the only occupied table, chatting up a homely blonde woman. If it was evening, the bar lady would be busy pouring drinks while serving girls raced back and forth from the kitchens with food for the patrons, and the whores led their clients up the wooden stairs by the hand to a room where they could earn their night’s wages.

After a few more steps, a middle-aged woman with a wide smile sauntered over to him. “Welcome, good master,” she said. “Will you be wanting a table, or did you have a specific girl in mind?”

Dist grinned. “It’s been a while, Tessa.”

The woman blinked. “Have we met?”

“I used to come here often when I was at Gauntlet,” Dist said. “You insisted I was too young for such revels, but your sister said my money was good as anyone else’s.”

Tessa stared at his blond hair for a moment, sized him up and down and broke into an even wider smile. “Dist! What a surprise!” She turned toward the kitchens. “Alessa! Come out, quick! Dist is here!”

A brown-haired woman almost of an age with Tessa emerged from the kitchens, wiping her hands on her apron. She took one look at him and cried out in surprise. “Dist!”

Dist laughed. “It’s good to see you both in good health.” The two women were joint-owners of the brothel. Though Alessa was a few years younger than Tessa, they could have passed for twins. Both had the same brown hair styled in braids, and the same oval-shaped faces and wide smiles. It had been ten years since he had seen them. Though their youth had deserted them, they remained lovely women still.

“What have you been up to all these years?” Tessa asked him. “We’ve heard all sorts of stories about you and your friends.”

“I remember Jhareth,” Alessa said. “He preferred blondes, if I remember right.”

“Nerris never bought anything but a drink, though,” Tessa said. “He always looked like he wanted to run out of here when one of the girls approached him.”

“Don’t you remember?” Alessa said. “He was smitten with that noblewoman Aledine. He wasn’t going to risk her finding him carousing with whores.”

“Ladies,” Dist said. “As glad as I am to see you, I need to ask a question. Does Fayla still work here?”

Tessa nodded. “I had a feeling you would want to see her. Have a seat, and I’ll go find her.”

Dist thanked the sisters and sat down at a nearby table. As he looked around, his mind filled with visions of his old comrades. Not just Nerris and Jhareth, but others he had known during his time at Gauntlet, many of which never even frequented this place. Their faces came to him nonetheless. Their combat instructor, Rhodias, the former berserker, who was cut down at the Battle of Crossroads while taking up the fallen banner of House Sallidon. Joras Blackwine and Errin Staker, who had died in each other’s arms at Gosseen. And of course the Owens, the elder who had lived long enough to be crowned king before dying of his wounds, and his son who reigned in Alicanos to this day.

He looked up as a young woman approached him. Fayla had been thirteen when Dist met her, same age as him. She had been a young skinny thing who made a living braving the streets on her own. She had filled out in the fourteen years since, a little plumper around the hips and bosom, and her face more wan than he remembered. But she still had the dark eyes and tawny hair which had attracted him all those years ago.

“Dist,” Fayla said warily. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Hello, Fayla,” Dist said. “I trust you’re well.”

“I can’t complain.”

Dist gestured to a chair. “Would you like to sit down?”

Fayla sat without a word, her unblinking eyes never leaving him. Dist couldn’t blame her for staring. The Thrillseekers had returned to Orrigo on occasion during their travels, usually to catch a ship to somewhere else, but Dist had never come back to visit her. The only news he had of her was in a letter from their mutual friend Aledine Feigh about a year after the Liberation of Agos. It was because of that letter he had finally come.

“I brought a gift.” Dist drew out a pouch filled with silver sepps and laid it on the table.

Fayla stared at the coin-filled pouch dubiously. “Dist...” she said, glancing toward the second floor. “We shouldn’t, it wouldn’t be right—”

“It’s not for you,” Dist said. “It’s for the boy.”

Fayla sucked in her breath. “Ah. So you know.”

Dist nodded. “I’ve known for years.”

“Why did you never come back?”

Dist sighed. “I don’t know. I think I was scared. We were so close once. You went with me and the others when we fought against King Ullas. You talked about giving up the life of a prostitute, of marrying me. Then one day you vanished from my tent without even a goodbye. I found out later you came back to this place.” He leaned back in his chair. “When I found out you had a child, I was even more confused. But I never had the courage to come here and ask you why.”

Fayla put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “Ten years is a long time to carry that around,” she said. “I can’t say I blame you for wanting naught to do with me. You were always the one talking about marrying me and all the rest, Dist. But I knew what lay in your heart. You were destined for great things with Nerris and Jhareth, and I was right. You love your friends more than you ever loved me.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t deny it. For what it’s worth, I never hated you for it. I only wanted what was best for you. Looking back, I handled it wrong. I found out I was with child, and I panicked. I never wanted to hold you back from the life that awaited you.”

“I see,” Dist said. “I guess I can understand that. Just know I’m not here to blame you for what you did.”

“Why did you come back after all this time?”

Dist let out a big breath. “Nerris and Jhareth are in the city too. We’re going after something big this time, most likely dangerous. You know how Jhareth gets; you mention the word
treasure
and his eyeballs become gold coins. Nerris is so devoted to his ideals and goals that he doesn’t even stop to consider the danger. No one does, except me. We’ve often been in over our heads, but this seems different, somehow weightier. I have this rumbling in the pit of my stomach telling me there’s a chance we won’t make it through this one. Funny how I’ve never had that feeling until now.”

Fayla chuckled. “We’re all getting older. We see the world differently now.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you like to see him?” she asked.

“Does he know about me? Who I am, what I’ve done in my life?”

Fayla shook her head. “I didn’t want him to grow up hating you for not being here. He understands what I do, and thinks he was the result of my job.”

“Then maybe it’s best he doesn’t meet me,” Dist said.

“You don’t have to meet him,” Fayla said. “But if you would look on him, peer out that window.” She pointed to an open window close to them.

Dist stood and walked over. A breeze picked up, cooling the cobblestone square somewhat. The same group of children he had seen before were still playing at their game. He did not need Fayla to point out his son. He was the right age, around nine or so, and had the same bright blond hair and stocky build Dist had as a child. He noted the boy shared some of Fayla’s more delicate features as well, such as her nose. The boy played his game well, taunting the child wearing the blindfold into coming for him, and stepped out of his reach at the last moment. The blindfolded boy toppled headlong into the fountain, to the howling laughter of the other children. He watched them play for a few minutes before turning away.

“What’s his name?” he asked Fayla.

“Garias,” she said. “I named him after my brother.”

“Garias Schies,” Dist muttered.

“Are you sure you won’t meet him?”

Dist had to think long and hard about it, but concluded it was not the right time. “One day, Fayla. If I make it through this.” Dist gestured to the pouch on the table. “Use that to buy him an apprenticeship or something. He’s my son, so he should prove to be good with tools.”

Fayla nodded. “Of course.”

Dist said his goodbyes and exited to the street. He avoided looking at the group of children as he headed back toward his inn. Shame overtook him. He could not meet his son, could barely look upon him, and all he had to give him was a few silver coins. He had been sure before he had come that he was doing the right thing, but now doubt gnawed at him. He took a deep breath. All he could do was survive. Survive and come back someday.

He went on his errand to hire a messenger for King Owen, and found a likely man at a tavern where freeriders were known to frequent. He gave the man the message Nerris had written, along with a few sepps, and sent him off to Alicanos. After that, he felt in need of a few drinks himself and threw back a few at his table while listening to the freeriders telling stories.

The sun was setting by the time he got back to their room at the inn. He, Nerris, and Jhareth had decided to share a room to give Len-Ahl her privacy, so Jhareth was waiting when he arrived, hunched over on the bed. He gave Dist an acknowledging smile as he entered, and Dist glared at him.

“Who kicked you in the puss?” Jhareth asked.

“No one,” Dist said. “Is Nerris back yet?”

Jhareth shrugged. “Haven’t seen him. It will take some time before our scholar is able to translate the scrolls, and that’s if he’s as good as we’ve heard.” He gestured to the corner of the room, where a number of pots, pans, and canvas sheets were piled. “I got a great deal on supplies. I didn’t even have to steal any of it. Our horses aren’t the most robust animals, but they’ll do. I put them up in the stables when I got back here. Did you find a messenger?”

Dist nodded.

“So can I have my silver back?”

“Sorry,” Dist said. “Had to spend it all.”

Jhareth stood. “All of it? You were supposed to hire one messenger, not a whole platoon.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Dist said.

Jhareth sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to break out my shell game tomorrow. I’m running low on funds.”

Nerris and Len-Ahl returned a short time later. Dist noted they were missing the copy Jhareth had made of the Stonechaser Prophecy. “We found him,” Nerris said before Jhareth could even ask. “The man’s name is Borrel, and he led us a merry chase around town. First, we went to his home, where his mother told us he spent most of his days at a brothel on Stoneman’s Way. The women at the brothel sent us to a tavern on Wagon Road, and the barman there told us to go to the Great Library of Orrigo, which was where we finally found him.” Nerris clenched his teeth. “And where he had been all day. Apparently, he likes to play this game with people who come to ask him questions.”

“Why?” Jhareth asked.

“Scholars,” Nerris said, though Dist was not sure that was his answer to the question or if he was dismissing all learned men. “I’m glad we cut our teeth at Gauntlet. If we had gone to a proper university like at Faerlin or Locraw, I would have gone mad.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he was thrilled to get his hands on the prophecy in its original dialect,” Nerris said. “We left it with him. He wanted to start translating right away, and he said to check back with him tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Jhareth reclined on the bed. “Just a little more time and we’re off to write our names in the history books.”

“I would not be sure a simple translation will bring the answer,” Len-Ahl said. “Queen Angelica was much more clever than that. I would prepare for the ultimate test of the mind, Jhareth. Once we know what message she meant to give us, we will still have a long way to go.”

Jhareth sat up. “Ultimate test of the mind, huh?”

Dist grunted. “Are you sure she meant this message for us, Len-Ahl?”

“Is there a problem?” Len-Ahl said.

“He means we were built for action, not thinking,” Jhareth said. “If we have to think our way through this, we’re doomed.”