The Huntsman's Amulet (20 page)

Chapter 30

Martensport

S
oren slept solidly through
the night. He awoke to the noise of commotion on deck, and the feeling of the ship at rest. He picked up the two swords that he had chosen from the weapons locker and tested their balance in his hand. One was a rapier. It was a mass produced weapon, but the blade was well crafted, and he reckoned it would serve him well.

The other was a short, broad bladed sword similar to the one that he had been using since the jungle, but of far better manufacture. He decided to take it too. In the event of having to fight in the cramped conditions below decks the shorter weapon would be more effective.

He went up on deck where the crew were securing the ship for sitting at anchor. They were not far from the shoreline and the smouldering ruin of the town that had been called Martensport.

‘It wasn’t much before, just a collection point for the local farmers to drop off their produce to be picked up by passing traders. No more than a dozen or so buildings, fifty, sixty residents. We should go ashore, see if there are any survivors. Maybe they can tell us if it actually was Rui who called here,’ Varrisher said.

From the look of it, Soren doubted there would be anything worth finding, but disagreeing with Varrisher in front of his crew didn’t seem like a smart thing to do.

The crew lowered the jolly boat into the water and Soren, Varrisher and two sailors got on board. They were not concerned about having a fight; there was no sign of Rui’s ship and they didn’t expect to find him or any of his men still there, if indeed it had been him that burned the town.

The sailors rowed them to the jetty, which appeared to be the only thing not touched by the fire. They disembarked, Soren being careful not to make a spectacle of himself, and made their way to the remains of the small town. There was very little left; every building had been put to fire, and few of them were made from brick.

‘Have a look around,’ Varrisher said to the two sailors. He turned to Soren. ‘I don’t expect we’ll find anything, but you never know. We might as well have a bit of a poke around and then get back to the ship. If Rui stopped here then he’ll have lost some of his lead on us, but there’s no point in squandering any gains we might have made.’

Soren nodded and began walking toward one side of the town, looking into each of the still smouldering ash piles that were all that remained of the buildings. They had only been burned a few hours before. If it was Rui who attacked the town, everything of value that he could carry would have been taken, and anything else would have been burned. Including the corpses. He had not seen any, but like as not they were under the piles of ash that would have been their homes or places of work. It reminded him of the savagery of a barbarian attack he had seen several years before. There seemed little sense in all of that destruction.

‘Captain,’ one of the sailors called out. He was kicking through the ash on the other side of the town. Soren looked in his direction. A group of horsemen watched them from the tree line behind the village. There were about twenty of them. They might take it into their heads that Soren, Varrisher and the two sailors were the pirates who had destroyed the town and slaughtered its inhabitants.

‘Ho there, friend,’ Varrisher called, raising a hand in greeting and stepping toward them.

It was a risky move, but given the circumstances there weren’t many options available to him. If the men chose to attack, they would most likely kill Varrisher and his two men before Soren could get close enough to help.

‘Stay where you are!’ came the response. It had the accent of a Ventishman, which was unsurprising as the island was a colony of Venter. ‘Who are you and what’s your business here?’

‘I’m Captain Varrisher of the
Typhon
. I’m chasing a pirate and we wanted to investigate,’ he shouted back, having stopped in his tracks as commanded.

The riders remained silent for a moment before three of them rode forward. As innocuously as possible, Soren started walking slowly toward Varrisher. The riders moved cautiously, but they didn’t appear hostile.

‘You will find nothing of interest. All of the survivors have been removed to safety and all that remains here is ash,’ said the rider in the centre of the three. ‘I am Captain Avert Hayck of the Carellen militia. We saw your ship sail into the bay and came down to investigate.’

He looked tall, although on horseback it was difficult to tell. He wore a military style tunic that looked at least one size too small — the same as the other two men with him, although theirs were too large — and he had a ruddy face topped with a mop of sweaty, straw coloured hair.

‘How long ago was the attack?’ Varrisher said.

‘Yesterday, late in the afternoon and they were gone before dark. They were sailing out of the bay by the time we got here,’ Captain Hayck said.

‘Do you’ve any idea of where they were headed?’ Varrisher said.

Captain Hayck looked at one of his companions and then back to Varrisher. ‘The Commissioner’s plantation isn’t far from here. The survivors are there. They might be able to tell you more.’

Soren joined Varrisher. He made sure to keep his hand away from the hilt of his sword. Varrisher was obviously uncomfortable with the notion of going with them. It had been their intention to get back to sea as quickly as possible and there was still no reason to trust the bona fides of the horsemen. Settlers got funny notions after they or their ilk were attacked, and sometimes any stranger they could lay their hands on would serve for their version of justice. Soren had seen it before in the plains to the east of Ostia and had no desire to find himself on the receiving end of that type of anger-fuelled justice.

Varrisher looked to Soren who shrugged his shoulders. There was no way to tell if these men intended to do them harm, but with their greater numbers it would have been as easy for them to do it there rather than luring them into the jungle. They might find out something useful from the survivors of the attack.

‘Very well,’ Varrisher said. ‘We’ll come with you to the plantation.’

‘We have no extra horses, so you’ll have to walk. It’s not that far, just out of sight beyond the promontory at the end of the bay,’ Captain Hayck said, gesturing.

‘First I need to send word back to my ship to let them know what we’re doing,’ Varrisher said.

Captain Hayck nodded. ‘We’ll wait for you by the trees.’

Varrisher called over the other two sailors and talked with them for a moment before they headed in the direction of the jolly boat, and Varrisher returned his attention to Soren.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think it’s worth the risk.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Varrisher said. ‘I’m not sure we have any choice anyway. I suppose we’d best be getting on after them then.’

They walked over to the waiting riders who moved off at a trot when Varrisher and Soren reached them.

It took less than an hour to reach the plantation house, which sat on top of the promontory that Hayck had pointed out to them from the ruins of Martensport. It was a fine, stone building, with a white gravel driveway and was surrounded with lush green bushes covered with purple flowers.

The sound of the twenty horsemen on the gravel driveway attracted some attention and several people appeared from the gabled portico. Two were armed, two were servants or perhaps slaves, and one, with a thick moustache and slicked back, grey hair, was finely dressed, probably the master of the house.

‘Captain, what do you have to report?’ the finely dressed man said.

‘It doesn’t seem to have been a pirate ship, Excellency,’ Captain Hayck said. ‘I’ve brought her master to speak with you.’

At this cue, Varrisher stepped forward. ‘Master Mariner of the Grey, Captain Rodolfo Varrisher. To whom do I have the honour of speaking?’ he said, formally.

‘Baron Pitir dal Froyt,’ the finely dressed man said, ‘Commissioner of Martensport. I was not aware gentlemen of the grey still existed.’

‘Well, that’s a matter of opinion,’ Varrisher said, ‘but it’s not relevant to the matter at hand.’ He said it politely, but there was an edge to his voice.

‘Perhaps you might tell me what is of relevance to your being on Carellen then. But not here, it’s getting unpleasantly warm. We can discuss it inside,’ dal Froyt said.

Without waiting for an answer he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shade of the portico, followed closely by the two armed men. One of the men that Soren had taken for a servant or slave rushed forward and beckoned for them to follow. The other assisted Captain Hayck as he dismounted. The three of them followed the servant into the house.

Soren felt oddly self-conscious about his dusty shoes and sailing slops as they walked through the immaculately clean house. He regretted he had not had the chance to change into the shore-going clothes he had bought and realised how far he had come from the youth who had judged clothes by how warm they would keep him in winter. It was an odd feeling, but it proved the effects of an expensive education.

The servant led them through to a long room at the far side of the house. It was lined with large windows that provided a spectacular view of an ornamental garden and the sea beyond. The house was bright and airy, with a cool breeze passing through which was a pleasant change after the walk up to the house from the smoking ruin of Martensport. The Commissioner had sat down at a writing table in a comfortable looking chair that gave him full advantage of the view from the windows. There were no chairs for the others to sit, and no apology was made for the fact.

‘Now, tell me, Captain Varrisher, what is it that brings you to Carellen so soon after a pirate attack,’ Commissioner dal Froyt said. ‘Hoping to pick at the scraps left behind?’

‘Far from it. We got word that there was a lot of smoke coming from this island. I estimated that we were roughly twelve hours behind the pirate that we’re tracking, so it stood to reason that he might have been involved in the attack.’

‘You’re a pirate hunter? I assume you have documentation?’ the Commissioner said.

‘I do,’ Varrisher said. ‘Letters of marque to sail under the flag of Ruripathia and also the Bayda of Valkdorf.’

‘The Bayda of Valkdorf? Is that what Governor dal Sifridt is calling himself now?’ the Commissioner said, with a chuckle. ‘Perhaps I should take to calling myself something a little grander, eh, Hayck?’

Captain Hayck forced a smile but said nothing.

‘Well, as you say, Commissioner, the continued existence of Ruripathia as a sovereign state is a matter of conjecture now. He wanted to provide us with as much legitimate authority to carry out our task as he could,’ Varrisher said. ‘Time is something of an issue, Commissioner, so I would appreciate any information you might have on the attackers so we can be on our way.’

‘Do you have these letters on your person?’ the Commissioner said.

‘No, they’re on board my ship. I wasn’t expecting to need them considering the condition we found Martensport in,’ Varrisher said.

The Commissioner sighed and drummed his fingers on the writing desk. ‘Very well. Several of the survivors of the attack reported that they overheard the pirates talking about Caytown. They didn’t know any more than that, but I would venture that with Caytown’s reputation, it’s not unreasonable to assume that it is the next destination of the savages that burned the town. From the descriptions given, I believe the pirate that attacked us was Sancho Rui, who I presume is the man you are pursuing.’

Varrisher nodded.

‘I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you that might be of assistance. The attack was particularly well timed. Martensport was the collection point from which all of the spice and sugar grown on this side of the island was brought for shipment north. This season’s harvest was collected only two days ago, and there was a considerable amount of gold in storage there awaiting division among the plantation owners.

‘I’m very eager that Sancho Rui be brought to a swift and painful end and have already sent letters to the Governor of Carellen to issue warrants for Rui’s arrest.’ There was venom in the Commissioner’s voice.