The gulls were more plentiful as he drew closer, and they acted braver. They dipped down to snatch crumbs from the street that ran parallel to the shore, and they waddled behind passersby, squawking for treats. Pelicans were perched atop timbers and on the roof of one of the bait shops. All over were barrels of fish being off-loaded from boats just arriving. And every place Grallik looked, he saw men working on sails and rigging, painting trim, and hurrying from ships to the shore and back again.
Grallik felt almost dizzy, drinking it all in. He’d been in port towns only a few times, and those were in years long past. He’d not been so interested in the ships then; he’d preferred the inland for his Dark Knight postings. So he’d never really paid attention before to the activities along the docks. It was a blur of sound and color, and he simply stood and gaped for a time.
If the red-skinned goblin were looking in on him-as he well knew she could do with her seeing spells-he hoped she was watching him right then. He had needed a bath and clothes and something to eat. Then she would see him going about the business of transporting Direfang’s followers to the Qualinesti Forest.
Grallik had few fond memories of his former home, and he had never expected to return there. But Mudwort sought something in those woods, and whatever interested her interested him. He steepled his fingers and looked from one ship to the next.
Now there was an amazing vessel! The largest in port, it bore four masts with blue pennants flying from the top of each one. There were three crow’s nests, with men atop each of them, even though it looked as though the ship were not leaving anytime soon. Grallik walked along a plank sidewalk so he could better see the ship. The Mercy Corvan, it was called, and along the top at the back were ornate carvings of horses pulling a man riding in a chariot. The carved man was dressed in a flowing robe; his left shoulder and arm were exposed. Birds with human faces were perched on his arm, all expertly rendered and painted garishly. There were windows rather than portholes, and the glass gleamed like diamonds in the bright sun.
Sailors steadily worked on the deck, some painting rails that looked as if they were in no need of painting. Most of the sailors were dark skinned.
“Ergothians,” Grallik said to himself. “Horace’s people.” The wizard was glad then the priest hadn’t come along on his errand. Horace had made it clear he wanted to return home, and that vessel would have lured him. Ergothians were noted for their ship building, and the Corvan put the others in port to shame. But what was such a fine, fine ship doing in that small town? Grallik wondered about that, briefly, but knew, more important, that a ship of that impressive size could easily accommodate a significant number of goblins and hobgoblins. That was the ship for him.
Grallik hefted one of the pouches filled with sapphires, about to make his move. Then he hesitated. That particular ship was too …
“Perfect,” he pronounced. “Too fine and fancy.” While it would well suit him-and it would delight Horace-it would be too conspicuous for a cargo of goblins, so he moved on, looking.
Grallik knew nothing about ships other than which ones looked bigger, flashier, or cleaner. He couldn’t put a name to the type of any of them. He couldn’t guess how fast they’d run, how seaworthy they might be. He knew he was not well suited to his task, while the priest would have been the right man. Ergothians were all sea barbarians, at home on the waves. How Horace got stuck in a desolate, dry mining camp in the middle of Neraka was puzzling. Grallik would have to remember to ask him about that later.
Grallik required several big ships, not just one, anyway; they needn’t all be as huge as the Mercy Corvan. Again he wondered briefly just what a ship that size was doing in the New Sea, particularly at a town so far to the east. But it wasn’t his concern, he decided, so he moved along to the farthest dock west.
“That could do.”
The ship he was staring at had a similar form to the Mercy Corvan, but it was not as long, and it did not seem to sit as heavy in the water. It boasted three masts, though the sails were down on all of them, and only one pennant, which was blue and white striped and fluttering dog-eared from a post at the back.
“Clare could be just one of those I’m looking for.”
For that was the ship’s name, painted in red, flowing script on the bow. Another name had been initially etched beneath that, but the paint had been scraped off so only a trace of a few gray letters could be seen. The Clare was not in the same tip-top condition as the Corvan; her paint was peeling on the trim, looking like fish scales baking in the sun. The wood appeared more weathered, lines were frayed here and there. Not as seaworthy, Grallik suspected, but seaworthy enough for the New Sea.
Not so many sailors were busy on her decks, and those he could see were in well-worn clothes.
“Perfect indeed.” He headed toward the Clare.
The crew looked … well, they looked hungry, needy. The ship was definitely in need of funds, and his would be a well-paying venture. There wouldn’t be many questions asked, Grallik hoped. And perhaps the sailors would point him to other ships that could be just as easily rented.
“Is the captain here?” Grallik cupped his hand over his eyes and peered up to the rail.
“Aye. Whatcha want with ’im?” The sailor who answered was a half-ogre with thick stubble on his chin.
“I’ll take that matter up with him,” Grallik returned brusquely.
“You’ll find ’im in the Tattered Sail,” the half-ogre shot back. “Ask for Gerrold.”
Grallik remained on the dock for a few more minutes, pacing up and down and giving the Clare a closer inspection. She could certainly hold a lot of goblins. Across from the Clare rested a ship of similar length and draft called The Elizabeth, and next to her, an ungainly looking vessel, obviously a merchantman, called Linda’s Grady. Would the three be enough? Probably not, he mouthed, recalling an image of all the goblins frolicking in the surf. He glanced around at other ships that were near and far.
“Gerrold is his name,” the half-ogre called, rousing Grallik from his reverie.
The wizard nodded and went in search of the tavern, found Gerrold, and made a deal that would put Gerrold in charge of the expedition.
Later in the afternoon, he visited several shops and steadily paid out small sapphires to purchase plenty of barrels of water, one hundred crates of dried meat, sacks upon sacks of fruit, bags of flour, hundreds of chickens-all he could find in town-and a few milking goats, and had all delivered to Gerrold at the Clare, who had the rest dispersed among The Elizabeth, Linda’s Grady, Star of Lunitari, Wavechaser, Shinare’s Prayer, and The Balifor Breeze.
Six ships, he’d settled on. Well more than enough. Grallik had decided to err on the side of excess in the event one or more of the captains backed out when they laid eyes on their passengers.
Back in the heart of the merchant district, he purchased the entire stock of several clothiers’, everything the city’s dozen cobblers had, and all the blankets three weavers displayed, along with crates of spun yarn in the hopes some of the goblins could learn how to knit. Rumors flew around the port about the wealthy, scarred half-elf who was buying enough to feed and clothe an entire town. An entire army was more like it, Grallik thought, bemused.
The rumblings made the citizens keep their distance and show him respect, so he did nothing to squelch the rumors.
He took care to find garments and boots that would likely fit Horace and the near seven-foot-tall Direfang. He hoped that would put him in better stead with the irascible hobgoblin leader. The special clothes he ordered wrapped in canvas and tied securely with twine to keep them separate from the rest of the goods.