The Swordsman's Oath (Einarinn 2) (53 page)
“Aren’t you treading a rather fine line?” I asked.
“I watch my footing,” he replied airily.
I took another drink; I’d just have to hope he didn’t make a misstep while I was on board. If he did, well, I still had Shek Kul’s token and I’d be off this little ship at the first sign of trouble to take my chances on my own.
“Right, you can keep watch. I’m off ashore to do a little trading,” said Dev briskly.
I followed him up on deck and looked for a comfortable spot in the shelter of the mast as he hailed a ferry-boy.
“When should I expect you back?” I called as the lad worked his oar to turn his cockleshell boat around.
Dev looked at the stars beginning to shine in the darkening sky. “Midnight or thereabouts.”
I waved and settled myself on the deck. I wasn’t about to relax, but my spirits were certainly rising and not only because of the encouragement from the liquor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I sat and watched the business of the anchorage all around me, lamps casting long yellow fingers across the dark waters, voices sounding from the various ships, in debate, dispute and as the night drew in, more frequently in song. The stars turned slowly above my head, the moons carried themselves on their stately progress, greater waxing behind lesser, which was scant days off the full. Gradually the galleys fell dark and silent, fires on the shore left to burn down to dim red embers and most of the ferrymen finally hauling their little boats up above the tide line.
I caught my breath as I heard a low noise beneath my feet. I listened and it came again, a scrape and a knock, not from the hold but from the rear cabin. On any other ship I’d have dismissed it as rats but I’d seen the extreme measures the Aldabreshi took to keep vermin from getting on to their islands and didn’t think Dev would still be trading, liquor or no liquor, if a rat showed so much as a whisker over his rails. The next sound made up my mind for me; rats may be cursed intelligent for scaly-tailed rodents but I’ll wager none have yet worked out how to open a drawer. I slipped my sandals off my feet and moved to the hatch, silent as a hunting cat. Drawing a thin Aldabreshi dagger from my belt, I gripped the rope handle of the trap door, ripping it open and dropping into the cabin in one movement.
I had been ready for grappling whoever it was in darkness but a feeble candle stub showed me a girl, all skin and bone, eyes like great dark bruises in her pale face, unwashed hair straggling over her narrow shoulders in dark rats’ tails. I gripped her by the throat all the same; the bitch had my bag open at her feet, various of my possessions strewn on the floor. I raised my dagger so she could see it and shook her hard.
“Dast seize you, what are you at?”
Her eyes focused on the bright blade with difficulty and followed it, her expression blank, slack-mouthed, the taint of thassin bitter on her breath. I frowned and waved the knife deliberately to and fro. Her muddy, bloodshot eyes rolled as she tried to keep up with the rapid movement. I let her go and wondered just what her addled mind was making of this, what phantasms her imagination was conjuring up in my place, hoping she didn’t suddenly decide I was a two-headed dog and start screaming.
“Don’t worry about Repi, she’s harmless enough. She’s looking for thassin, tahn, anything, chewing leaf if you’ve got it.” Dev’s voice startled me and I scowled up the hatch at his unconcerned face. “She hasn’t the wit to think about robbing you of anything else.”
“Curse it, Dev, you should have said something,” I protested. “I could have killed her.”
“I don’t suppose she’d have noticed for a while.” Dev slid down the ladder and snapped his fingers in front of the girl’s vacant face. “Bed,” he snapped, opening the door to the main hold, manner and tone much as I would have used to an errant hound. The girl made it through the doorway on the second attempt, clumsily rubbing her arm where she had banged it cruelly on the jamb. Dev’s expression remained contemptuous as Repi stumbled into a tangle of blankets against the far bulkhead.
“What’s she? An advertisement for your other wares?” I snapped at Dev.
“Something like that.” He pulled off his tunic and climbed deftly into his hammock, unconcerned. “She’s quite good on her back as well, as long as you give her some sapsalt to wake her up a bit. Help yourself if you like, she’ll do anything you want if she thinks there’s a trip to the shades in it for her.”
I couldn’t even begin to reply to that, so I thrust my belongings back in my bag, tying the lace at the neck in a secure knot before hanging the whole thing on the high hook of my hammock. Settling myself to sleep, I forced myself to concentrate on the fact that this unsavory vessel was still my fastest hope of leaving these pestilential islands.
We weighed anchor just after dawn and Dev steered us expertly through the crowded strait into more open waters. Whatever I might think of him, he was certainly a proficient sailor. I worked the ropes as instructed and took over what cooking there was to be done when I realized Dev’s taste for hot spices extended to even the simplest of meals and Repi was rarely in a state to be trusted near a naked flame. I rolled up my mail and stowed it at the bottom of my kit, my gems securely tied in the middle of the metal. Dressed in simple cotton, I kept my head down and concentrated on looking as unremarkable as I could, Shek Kul’s token hidden beneath my tunic, as much to ensure Dev didn’t get his hands on it too early as anything else. I didn’t figure it would take too many reminders of temptation for him to decide to slit my throat one night. As it was, I always waited for him to sleep before I did and woke myself early with the tricks of a soldier’s training.
As we worked our way up the long chain of the Archipelago, we made landfall in various anchorages, some the busy trading straits like the one where I had met Dev, others secluded coves where furtive men in shallow rowing boats drew alongside to bargain with Dev. I stayed out of it all, only going ashore to eat when necessary and on the not infrequent occasions when Dev brought one or more eager men aboard to get Repi below decks and take their pleasure with her.
All in all, I was seeing a very different picture of life in the Archipelago to the one Laio had painted for me. Well, her advice hadn’t exactly proved entirely trustworthy, had it? Every so often, I wondered how she was, her and Gar, Mahli and the baby. Having spent ten years and more in Messire’s service, I have had to get used to visiting places and making friends, only to leave them after a season or so, often never to see them again. Still, I knew I would always remember Laio with fondness, and not only for the gifts of her body and her jewelry. I wondered idly if she had any idea of the real worth of the trinkets she had bestowed on me. Different though her beliefs might be, I reckoned I’d be burning incense at a shrine to Drianon for Laio, to keep her safe through child-bed; for Grival and Sezarre too, though I couldn’t quite decide whether Trimon or Talagrin would be the most appropriate deity to watch over them.
I turned my thoughts to such considerations whenever life on the little ship threatened to be too distasteful, slamming a firm door on any impulse to try and shelter Repi from Dev’s abuses. Some days this was harder than others, especially when some islander who’d paid for a turn with her had shown a taste for violence.
“Why don’t you give the poor bitch a chance to recover?” I snapped one day as Dev knelt beside her, lifting her unresponsive head to blow some smoke into her nostrils, a great bruise purpling one side of her face. The smell of the smoldering leaves was making me edgy as well; I was more than a little concerned that catching too much of it might let those voices loose inside my head again. I was finding I was having enough trouble with the increasingly vivid and powerful dreams I was having about young D’Alsennin. I’d be cursed if I’d unleash him into my waking mind again, having finally recognized his as the voice I had heard when fighting the Ice Islander priest. If I’d thought I had any chance of picking up another decent blade, I’d have been sorely tempted to drop D’Alsennin’s sword into the sea some night and face answering to the Sieur for so dishonoring his gift. Unfortunately, common sense reminded me that the Archipelago was no place to be traveling without a weapon.
Dev scowled and dropped Repi’s head to the deck with a sickening thud. “Silly poult, she’s been mixing tahn and liquor again. No wonder Ful lost his temper with her; it must have been like ramming a rag doll.”
I bit down hard on the words that were hammering at the inside of my teeth and stared over the rail at the shoreline. We were anchored in a secure cove with no other ships and I noticed the trees were sparser here, more akin to the ones you’d see in southern Caladhria. With any luck I’d be off this ship in a few days if my rough calculations as to our course were anything like correct.
“Smoke? I can’t rouse Repi and I don’t fancy spitting dead meat, so we might as well get glazed.” Dev blew on the embers of his censer and added a few more leaves, taking a deep breath before offering me the little metal bowl in its horn holder.
I shook my head abruptly, moving out of the way of the drifting scent.
“You want it, though, don’t you?” Dev laughed, his own eyes growing wide and dark as the intoxication spread through him.
I didn’t bother replying. In any case it was true. Catching the scent so often lately had reawakened all the cravings that I thought I’d left so far behind me. I kept catching myself finding justifications for just a little smoke, taking a little thassin to chew or some leaf, there was plenty on offer after all. The notion of losing myself just for a little while was just so tempting, stealing an evening free of the memories of Kaeska’s appalling death, my apprehension over how Messire was going to judge my recent experiences, my struggle to decide whether I would admit to these dreams of D’Alsennin and his lost colony and sink myself deeper into some wizards’ plotting or lie through my teeth and deny it all, forfeiting my oath though none but me would know it. Some nights just about the only thing holding me back was the fear that relinquishing control like that would let loose whatever shade of D’Alsennin remained tied to his sword and was currently locked firmly away in the back of my mind, for the moment at least.
Dev showed no after effects of the smoke the following day and got us moving in a high good humor. “We’re heading out away into open waters today,” he announced over breakfast. “It’ll be rougher and we’ll need to watch the winds.”
“Keep Repi below decks then,” I said shortly, “or tie a line to her.”
Dev laughed as if I had just made an excellent jest, so I turned my back on him and addressed myself to the business of sailing the little ship, which was not really built for the seas we faced as we left the shelter of the Archipelago, alone on the empty expanse of the water.
“Take the tiller and turn her into the wind!” Dev shouted to me. I hurried to comply as he left the stern and the ship rocked alarmingly. I grabbed for the arm of the rudder but missed as I saw a complex tangle of red light swirl around his fingers, the ruby glow sparking arcane reflections in his dark eyes.
“You’re a pissing wizard!” I gasped, reaching for the tiller and just managing to grab it this time to steady the ship.
“Reporting to the Archmage and a seat on the Council any time I want it,” Dev confirmed as he spread his hands and sent a column of fire high into the sky above our heads. “Not that I do want it, not just yet. Sailing the islands like this, in my line of trade, it’s a fine life. If I can earn some credit in Hadrumal with what I discover, so much the better. I’ll be wintering there this year, though. You’re a fine prize for me to bring in.” He laughed at my shocked expression. “I’ve been hunting for you ever since Shek Kul set sail from Relshaz. What did you think? The Archmage was going to let you loose in the Archipelago and forget about you? Not with what I think you’ve got in your head, not when those Elietimm are spending so much time and trouble to get their hands on you and that sword.”
He was openly gloating now. If we’d been within sight of land, I’d have been over the rail and swimming for shore to take my chances with whatever lurked beneath the waters. As it was I took a step toward the smirking man before the lurch of the ship brought me to my senses.
“I’m a Tormalin sworn man, I answer to my patron and no one else, you bastard,” I told Dev in no uncertain terms. “If Planir wants me, he’ll answer to Messire D’Olbriot first!”
“Already signed and sealed,” Dev laughed. “You’ve been handed over as surely as when you were sold in Relshaz!”
I might really have hit him then had a sail not appeared on the horizon. Square-rigged and three-masted, it was a Tormalin ship, the type I had seen all my life in the oceanside harbor at Zyoutessela. Squinting into the sun, I struggled to identify the flag at the masthead, desperately hoping to see the D’Olbriot insignia. Let the mages try and get me off one of Messire’s ships against my will; I couldn’t believe Dev’s tale, that the patron would transfer me to another’s orders without my consent, especially not to the Archmage.
The three-master closed with us rapidly with the winds at her stern. I ignored Dev’s protests as I abandoned the rudder to him and collected my gear. I was ready to catch a line thrown from the taller ship as soon as she drew alongside and tied my kit-bag securely to it, waving a hand to the sailor who hauled it aboard for me. A rope ladder snaked down to me and I looked for the right moment to catch it.
“Don’t you owe me for your passage?” Dev shouted, half angry, half taunting. I looped my arm through the ladder and got my feet on to it before turning to glare at him.
“You really think so?”
“I can do a lot for the Archmage with a token like that,” he insisted, face serious for once. “Besides, you swore it to me.”
And I wasn’t about to forswear myself, just for the sake of poking this little filth in the eye. I spat on to his deck before ripping the medallion from my neck and tossing it over, watching with contempt as Dev scrambled for the shining disc. Fury goading me to unexpected violence, I decided it would be best to leave before I killed him and climbed rapidly aboard the three-master. A genial mariner helped me over the rail, the master of the ship by his dress and manner.
