The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (68 page)

“Good,” he said, and continued along the broad road. “You may want to keep alert. It’s a little early for robbers, but they might be abroad.”

“And there are pirates farther down the river, aren’t there?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“Not a great many, but enough. They’re at their height in the late summer, when traffic on the river is heaviest. We’ll want to keep guard against them, but not as we would have to in summer.” He pointed to a stone wall ahead. “This is Pajmin’s Landing. We’ll spend the night here.”

“Shouldn’t we press on? We have three more hours of light yet.”

“And spend the night in the open? With the wind rising?” He shrugged. “If that’s what you wish.”

“No, I don’t wish it,” she said. “But I want to make the most speed possible. It’s time I was home again.”

“I know – you’re worried,” said Doms.

“I am.” She fretted, adding, “If we could engage a barge and river-man this afternoon, and be on our way before nightfa – “

”By mid-morning. No river-man will set out at this time of day, or too early. The canyon is all in shadow now, as it is for two hours after dawn, and there are dangers that you can’t see under the water when the sun is hidden by the walls of the canyon. They prefer having as much direct sunlight as possible, in order to keep from damaging their barges,” Doms pulled up at the gate to Pajmin’s Landing. “You and I can have a good meal and a wash, and our ponies and mules can have a night in a well-bedded stall and maybe even an apple or two. Then tomorrow, when we’re fresh, we can start down the river.”

“On a barge,” she said, making no apology for her dubiety.

“River-men spend their time here at the inns on the docks. They aren’t very prepossessing as a group, but we’ll find one to our liking. You should know that they have a dialect all their own. You can understand them most of the time, but their jargon is opaque, at least to me. They can’t – or they won’t – explain it to me, or anyone else I know of.” He rang the small gong to summon the watch, identified himself and Ninianee, paid the entry tax, and went through toward the cluster of buildings between the village and the edge of the river. “The village is away from the riverbank, the travelers’ inns are at the docks.”

“Which inn should we choose?” she asked, noticing out of the tail of her eye one of the watchmen hurrying away toward the village.

“They’re all of a piece. The Piebald-Crane is about the best – or it was four years ago.” He indicated the inn with the blue roof and the sign with a white-beaked and white-feathered head on it. “If you’re willing, so am I.”

She knew he was teasing her, daring her to choose another place. But she liked as much of the inn as she could see, and she believed that all four inns were similar. “Why not?” she asked as she overtook him and led him and his animals into the small courtyard of the inn.

* * *

In the end they waited until morning to find a river-man. Shortly before dawn Ninianee and Doms left their bedchamber for the tap-room where they had been assured by the landlord they would be able to find a reliable river-man with a barge seeking to be hired, for this was one of the places those wanting employment gathered in order to make their services available to travelers.

This morning the tap-room smelled of grilled bacon and cooking millet with onions. Eight men and one woman were at the long bench in front of the fireplace, most of them in the long, boiled-wool brikes and heavy canvas zenfts that were the identifying garments of their trade, along with the clubbed hair and chapped hands of their work. Their ages ranged from about twenty to the late forties. All but two looked up as Doms and Erianthee came into the room. They offered no greeting and made no respect.

“Good morning,” said Doms cordially, respecting the eight men.

“You’re the ones needing a barge?” asked the nearest of the eight. He was short and blocky, his face permanently sun-burnt. His vowels were broader than most and his endings were slurred or dropped altogether.

“We are,” said Doms. “We have two ponies and two mules as well as cases and chests.”

“How large a vessel do you need, then?” the nearest man pursued.

“Merchants, are you?” asked another.

“No, not merchants,” said Ninianee. “Travelers bound for home with some need for haste. I don’t know how large a – ”

“Strange time to be abroad,” said a third. “Winter isn’t good for traveling. The pop makes ampola.” His companions nodded as he finished darkly, “No matter what a hargorn may think.”

“No, it’s not,” said Doms. “All the more reason to go by the river.” He went to the small table opposite the long plank one where the river-men sat. “We are bound for Valdihovee in Vildecaz.”

“That’s a goodly distance,” said the man who had spoken second. “Twelve days, maybe thirteen, if the weather holds.”

“It’ll be a costly journey, this time of year,” said a fourth, glancing at them speculatively.

“We can pay,” said Ninianee, doing her best to sound slightly bored. She looked up and saw the barmaid coming toward her. “Whatever you’re serving for breakfast, and Khalandriee tea, if you have it.”

“We do,” said the barmaid, and paused only to put down tankards of hot mead for the river-men before going back toward the kitchen.

“Oho, tea, is it?” the first man exclaimed.

“It is,” said Ninianee. “I wish to be awake and alert.” She sat down opposite Doms. She wished she could ask him about the river-men to find out which one he was thinking of engaging for their trip, but said only, “So we should leave before mid-morning, didn’t you tell me?”

“I did,” he said, approval in his eyes.

“Will the animals be ready by then?” She leaned forward and braced her elbows on the rough-hewn table-top.

“I should think so. I’ve paid the stable-hands to groom and halter them, and to stack our cases and chests. The ponies and mules will have nose-bags for the journey, and two bushels of grain.” He stared down at her hands, paying no attention to those at the other table. “We will probably make Shirenthovee by nightfall if we’re on the river by mid-morning.” This was his way of informing the river-men that he knew something of the route that lay ahead.

“You won’t make Shirenthovee much before nightfall, not with the river the way it is – all ganlo. You’ll travel in shadow for half the afternoon, and half the morning,” said a fifth river-man.

“That’s acceptable,” said Doms.

“Are you planning to push on as quickly all the way down the River Dej to Valdihovee, or do you plan to stop along the way?” This question came from the woman, a hard-faced, raw-boned creature whose sharp eyes missed little. She drank a generous mouthful of hot mead as Doms answered.

“We would hope to, yes. I’ve said our purpose is urgent, or we would have waited until spring to travel.”

“Then you’ll need two river-men,” said the third. “Otherwise you’ll risk fetching up on rocks or – “

”Two river-men are acceptable,” said Ninianee.

“A good decision, and japloy. In the summer, you’d want a guard or two as well, but not during the winter. The only additional charge is you’ll have to pay for the mules to haul the barge home,” said the fifth, and motioned to the others to huddle around him to discuss the problem.

Ninianee watched the whispered discussion, and noticed that she could still hear the sound of the falls, for it was loud enough to make it hard to sort out the under-voiced discussion among the river-men. She caught an occasional word, just sufficient to make it plain that they were speaking in their jargon, and even if she could hear plainly, it still wouldn’t make any sense to her.

The barmaid brought them fried millet-cakes with onions and pepper, and generous rashers of bacon. She gave Ninianee a tankard of tea and Doms one of hot mead, then she folded her arms. “If my advice means anything, and you want the best pilot on the river, you’ll ask for Ferzal. She knows every rock and bend from here to the sea. And she does her job without complaint.”

“Good advice,” said Doms, and watched while Ninianee paid out ten gaylings, then added another five.

“Much appreciated,” said the barmaid, and hurried back toward the kitchen.

“So what do you think?” Doms asked Ninianee, his voice low.

“She must know who is best for the work,” said Ninianee quietly, using her own knife to cut into the millet-cakes. “Why would she recommend someone who isn’t skilled?”

Doms considered his answer. “Because she’s been paid to. Because the river-men are always here and we aren’t. Because she benefits from their hire. Because they are kin – who knows.” He cut a wedge of bacon and pronged it on the tip of his knife. “For where we are, this food is excellent.”

Ninianee tasted the millet-cake and nodded in agreement. “Cook-major Mindicaz wouldn’t be ashamed to serve this.”

“I should think not. Nothing magical about this cooking – it’s all completely real.” Doms took a long sip of the hot mead. “Same for this. The honey came from hives, not conjuring.”

Since her tea was still too hot to drink, Ninianee contented herself with a nod and the chance to eat in silence, still trying to discern what the river-men were saying, and being stymied by their private language.

The barmaid brought more bacon and hot mead to the river-men, and returned to the kitchen.

“Well, then,” one of the river-men announced abruptly. “We heard what Maethiza said to you about Ferzal, and we agree. She’ll be one who goes down the Dej with you. The other, you may choose between Garvalin and Onpoleneraz. Both are experienced. Onpoleneraz has the bigger barge, with shelter on deck if you want to travel at night or in foul weather.” He pointed out the two men. “Onpoleneraz.” He nodded to the tall, heavy-shouldered man in his late thirties with a heavily lined face. He was missing four of his front teeth. “Garvalin.” The man was a bit younger but with an angular scar cutting across his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose and the line of his cheek. “They will charge you the same amount no matter which man you choose. Both have worked with Ferzal, and will pay her from the amount you’re charged. You can depend upon them not to bring you into any unnecessary danger.”

“What about pirates – do we need a pair of guards to accompany us, or is it really not a problem?” Doms asked.

“You shouldn’t encounter them at this time of year,” said the spokesman. “And these river-men know what to look for and what to avoid.”

“What is their price?” Ninianee asked, glancing once at Doms as if expecting him to disagree.

“Fifteen damzejes each, and twenty for all four animals,” said the spokesman. “To be paid in advance, and four mules to be bought for the return journey. You pay all docking charges, and you pay for supplies.”

“Zant degmei,” said one of the men, an obscure remark that resulted in nods all around.

The amount and the terms were outrageous, and Ninianee was about to say so when she felt Doms’ hand close over her wrist. “We accept,” he said. “I have the money with me. You can write out a contract of journey at once, and we can sign it while our goods and animals are being loaded onto the barge. We’ll take the largest barge, whosever’s it is.”

The river-men looked annoyed at the suggestion of a contract but knew they couldn’t refuse to sign one. “All right,” said the spokesman. “But it must be written in kaimon-ink, so you can’t modify the terms by magic after you’re on the river.”

“Of course,” said Doms. “I have ink and parchment in my travel-chest. One of you may come with me to fetch it.” He rose, looking down at Ninianee. “You see? We’ll be underway shortly.”

“I’ll deal with the supplies we may need,” she said. “I imagine the landlord here can accommodate us.” There was a dry humor in her observation.

“No doubt he has done so many times in the past,” Doms said, and motioned to one of the river-men to come with him.

Ferzal was the first to address her. “It will cost you more to buy your supplies elsewhere. The landlord of The Piebald-Crane has an arrangement with us. Speak to him – he’ll accommodate you.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Ninianee, and resigned herself to accepting the arrangement with the hope that they would be underway by mid-morning. She was increasingly worried about Vildecaz and the need to return there was growing in her. Keeping her purpose in mind, she went to seek out the landlord.

* * *

Marlingee Dantogorin stood on the threshold of Erianthee’s quarters, not quite smiling. The scars on her forehead and cheeks had faded and her limp was hardly noticeable as she respected Erianthee. “Duzeon,” she said as politely as possible. “I was hoping I might have a word with you?”

“Come in,” said Erianthee, stepping aside to admit her unexpected visitor.

“I want to thank you for the time you spent with me in the infirmary. You didn’t have to do that,” she said as Erianthee closed the door.

“Possibly not, but it gave me a good excuse to call upon you,” she said, smoothing her gaihups as she took a seat on the upholstered bench near the fire. “I need to talk with you – privately.”

This last held Erianthee’s attention. “How privately?”

“Very privately; enough to put a spell on this room to ensure we will not be overheard,” said Dantogorin. Since the day of the conjure-storm, the Court magician had not ventured much beyond her own apartments once the infirmary released her, so her visit struck Erianthee as one of singular importance.