Roran relaxed.
Beside him, Clovis uttered a dreadful oath. “I knew something were amiss the moment I clapped eyes upon you, Stronghammer. Livestock indeed. Bah! You played me like a fool, you did.”
“You wrong me,” replied Roran. “I did not lie; this is my flock and I am their shepherd. Is it not within my right to call them ‘livestock’ if I want?”
“Call them what you will, I didn’t agree to haul people to Teirm. Why you didn’t tell me the true nature of your cargo, I might wonder, an’ the only answer on the horizon is that whatever venture you’re engaged in means trouble... trouble for you an’ trouble for me. I should toss the lot of you overboard an’ return to Narda.”
“But you won’t,” said Roran, deadly quiet.
“Oh? An’ why not?”
“Because I need these barges, Clovis, and I’ll do anything to keep them. Anything. Honor our bargain and you’ll have a peaceful trip and you’ll get to see Galina again. If not...” The threat sounded worse than it was; Roran had no intention of killing Clovis, though if he had to, he would abandon him somewhere along the coast.
Clovis’s face reddened, but he surprised Roran by grunting and saying, “Fair enough, Stronghammer.” Pleased with himself, Roran returned his attention to the beach.
Behind him, he heard a snick.
Acting on instinct, Roran recoiled, crouching, twisting, and covering his head with his shield. His arm vibrated as a belaying pin broke across the shield. He lowered the shield and gazed at a dismayed Clovis, who retreated across the deck.
Roran shook his head, never taking his eyes off his opponent. “You can’t defeat me, Clovis. I’ll ask you again: Will you honor our bargain? If you don’t, I’ll put you ashore, commandeer the barges, and press your crew into service. I don’t want to ruin your livelihood, but I will if you force me... Come now. This can be a normal, uneventful voyage if you choose to help us. Remember, you’ve already been paid.”
Drawing himself up with great dignity, Clovis said, “If I agree, then you must do me the courtesy of explaining why this ruse were necessary, an’ why these people are here an’ where they’re from. No matter how much gold you offer me, I won’t assist an undertaking that contradicts my principles; no, I won’t. Are you bandits? Or do you serve the blasted king?”
“The knowledge may place you in greater danger.”
“I insist.”
“Have you heard of Carvahall in Palancar Valley?” asked Roran.
Clovis waved a hand. “Once or twice. What of it?”
“You see it now on the beach. Galbatorix’s soldiers attacked us without provocation. We fought back and, when our position became untenable, we crossed the Spine and followed the coast to Narda. Galbatorix has promised that every man, woman, and child from Carvahall will be killed or enslaved. Reaching Surda is our only hope of survival.” Roran left out mention of the Ra’zac; he did not want to frighten Clovis too badly.
The weathered seaman had gone gray. “Are you still pursued?”
“Aye, but the Empire has yet to discover us.”
“An’ are you why the alarm was sounded?”
Very softly, Roran said, “I killed two soldiers who recognized me.” The revelation startled Clovis: his eyes widened, he stepped back, and the muscles in his forearms rippled as he clenched his fists. “Make your choice, Clovis; the shore draws near.”
He knew he had won when the captain’s shoulders drooped and the bravado faded from his bearing. “Ah, the plague take you, Stronghammer. I’m no friend of the king; I’ll get you to Teirm. But then I want nothing more to do with you.”
“Will you give me your word that you won’t attempt to slip away in the night or any similar deception?”
“Aye. You have it.”
Sand and rocks grated across the bottom of the Red Boar’s hull as the barge drove itself up onto the beach, followed on either side by its two companions. The relentless, rhythmic surge of water dashing itself against the land sounded like the breathing of a gigantic monster. Once the sails were furled and the gangplanks extended, Torson and Flint both strode over to the Red Boar and accosted Clovis, demanding to know what was going on.
“There’s been a change of plans,” said Clovis.
Roran left him to explain the situation — skirting the exact reasons why the villagers left Palancar Valley — and jumped onto the sand, whereupon he set out to find Horst among the milling knots of people. When he spotted the smith, Roran pulled him aside and told him about the deaths in Narda. “If it’s discovered that I left with Clovis, they may send soldiers on horses after us. We have to get everyone onto the barges as fast as possible.”
Horst met his eye for a long minute. “You’ve become a hard man, Roran, harder than I’ll ever be.”
“I’ve had to.”
“Mind that you don’t forget who you are.”
Roran spent the next three hours moving and packing the villagers’ belongings in the Red Boar until Clovis expressed his satisfaction. The bundles had to be secured so that they would not shift unexpectedly and injure someone, as well as distributed so that the barge rode level in the water, which was no easy task as the bundles were of irregular size and density. Then the animals were coaxed on board much to their displeasure — and immobilized by tethers lashed to iron rings in the hold.
Last of all came the people, who, like the rest of the cargo, had to be organized into a symmetrical pattern within the barge to keep from capsizing it. Clovis, Torson, and Flint each ended up standing at the fore of their barges, shouting directions to the mass of villagers below.
What now? thought Roran as he heard an argument break out on the beach. Pushing his way to the source of the disturbance, he saw Calitha kneeling beside her stepfather, Wayland, trying to calm the old man.
“No! I won’t go on that beast! You can’t make me,” cried Wayland. He thrashed his withered arms and beat his heels in an attempt to free himself from Calitha’s embrace. Spittle flew from his lips. “Let me go, I say. Let me go!”
Wincing from his blows, Calitha said, “He’s been unreasonable ever since we made camp last night.”
It would have been better for all concerned if he had died in the Spine, what with the trouble he’s caused, thought Roran. He joined Calitha, and together they managed to soothe Wayland so that he no longer screamed and hit. As a reward for his good behavior, Calitha gave him a piece of jerky, which occupied his entire attention. While Wayland concentrated on gumming the meat, she and Roran were able to guide him onto the Edeline and get him settled in a deserted corner where he would not be a nuisance.
“Move your backsides, you lubbers,” shouted Clovis. “The tide’s about to turn. Hop to, hop to.”
After a final flurry of activity, the gangplanks were withdrawn, leaving a cluster of twenty men standing on the beach before each barge. The three groups gathered around the prows and prepared to push them back into the water.
Roran led the effort on the Red Boar. Chanting in unison, he and his men strained against the weight of the huge barge, the gray sand giving beneath their feet, the timbers and cables creaking, and the smell of sweat in the air. For a moment, their efforts seemed to be in vain, then the Red Boar lurched and slid back a foot.
“Again!” shouted Roran. Foot by foot, they advanced into the sea, until the frigid water surged about their waists. A breaker crashed over Roran, filling his mouth with seawater, which he spat out vigorously, disgusted by the taste of salt; it was far more intense than he expected.