"Whose verse is that?"
"An obscure poetaster, hight Jorian son of Evor. Anyway, one woman at a time's enough for me. When I get mine back, one wife, one house, and one honest trade will suffice me." Jorian yawned. "We must to bed, to be up ere dawn."
"But that will give us scarce four hours' sleep!"
"Aye, but Chemnis is a long day's drive hence."
"You mean to make Chemnis in one day?"
"Certes. Since four of those rogues escaped, the Xylarians will soon be on my trail again."
"You'll slay my poor horses!"
"I think not; and if I did, a self-proclaimed gentleman like you could afford another pair."
Beyond Evrodium, the road swung north to join the main road from Ir City to Chemnis, the main port of the republic at the mouth of the Kyamos. As Zerlik's chariot thundered down the river road to where Chemnis arose on the margin of the estuary, a forest of masts and yards loomed over the houses along the waterfront. Many ships had been laid up for the winter earlier than usual, since the depredations of the Algarthian pirates had depressed seaborne traffic.
The day after the arrival of Jorian and his companions in Chemnis, they walked to the waterfront in the early morning. Zerlik still staggered from the jolting of the previous day's headlong drive. Jorian growled:
"When I was king, we kept the sea thieves down. I built up our little fleet and commanded it myself. Betwixt us in the South and the navy of Zolon in the North, no pirate dared to show his sail off the western coast of Novaria. But they've let the fleet go to the shipworms since I fled, whilst Zolon has a new High Admiral who dotes on fancy uniforms but never goes to sea."
Zerlik looked more and more unhappy. At last he said: "Master Jorian, I fear that when His Majesty sent me forth on this errand, he did not mean me to get my throat cut by pirates."
"Afraid?"
"Sirrah, a man of my rank does not brook insults!"
"Keep your doublet on, young fellow. I did but ask."
"I bloodied my scimitar on your side against the kidnappers. But meseems it were pure madness for us twain to set forth in some cockleshell craft alone. If these bloody freebooters caught up with us, what earthly chance should we have?"
Jorian frowned. "Well, no regular ships sail now to Iraz; so 'tis either buy or rent a ship of our own or not go at all. Rental were impractical, they say, for the owner would demand so large a deposit that one might as well buy the craft. Still, what you say makes sense of a sort.
"I have it! We'll be a pair of poor fishermen with but a meager catch to show for our pains." They reached the waterfront, and Jorian consulted a list of ships for sale. "Let's see; the Divrunia should lie yonder, with the Flying Fish beyond and the Psaanius in the other direction Jorian hunted up a ship broker whose name he had. The broker took them on a tour of the waterfront. After a morning of inspecting ships, Jorian bid the broker farewell for the nonce. While he and Zerlik ate at a waterfront tavern, Jorian said:
"Meseems the Flying Fish is our craft, an we can beat Master Gatorix down to a reasonable price."
"That dirty little tub!" cried Zerlik. "Why—"
"You forget, laddie, that we shall be a pair of indigent fishers. So a craft like the Divrunia, as spick as a royal yacht, were the last thing we want. We must look the part."
"Well, the Flying Fish certainly stinks of fish. Why cannot we get a proper warship—say, one of those Irian biremes anchored out yonder? Then, with a well-armed crew, we should have nought to fear from corsairs."
"Imprimis, those galleys are the property of the Republic of Ir, and I have no reason to think the Syndicate would wish to sell one. Secundus, such a deal would at best require months of negotiation, during which time the Xylarians would be upon me. And tertius, have you a hundred thousand marks wherewith to buy the ship, with an equal amount for the hire of the crew?"
"Unh. But my good clothes—"
"We shall, naturally, wear garb suitable to our assumed rank. So fear not for your finery. We shall be ragged and stinking."
"Ugh!"
"Moreover, the Flying Fish is sound of hull and rigging. With her beam she may be slow, but she'll get us whither we fain would go. Finish your repast, so that we can sally forth to seek Master Gatorix."
When they found the ship broker again, Jorian said: "We should like another look at your Flying Fish; albeit a thousand marks is beyond the vault to heaven. Why, I could buy a surplus Zolonian trireme for that.
After two hours of haggling, Jorian brought the price down to 650 marks. He said: "Methinks we can do business, Master Gatorix. Of course, you'll throw in a sun stone, a chart, and an astrolabe…"
After further chaffering, Jorian asked the broker about distances, winds, and currents between Chemnis and Iraz. Gatorix advised him that even with favorable weather, the voyage would take at least a sennight. Jorian calculated and dispatched Zerlik and Ayuir to buy supplies. When they returned, followed by longshoremen laden with sacks of biscuits, salt pork, apples, salted fish, salt, a fish net, two poles with lines and extra hooks, and suits of rough, worn seamen's garb, Jorian was again engrossed in an argument with Gatorix.
"I'm trying to get him to include this spyglass in the deal," he explained. "He wants a hundred marks extra for the thing."
"Great Ughroluk!" cried Zerlik. "In Iraz, one can buy a good glass for a fraction of that."
"Naturally," said Gatorix, "since you Irazians invented the contraption and make it, 'tis cheaper there than here."
Jorian had raised the brass tube to his eye and trained it eastward. He stood silently for a moment, then closed the telescope with a snap and said in a changed voice:
"Pay Gatorix his hundred marks, Zerlik."
"But—"
"No buts! We're taking the glass without further argument."
"But—"
"And help me to get this stuff aboard, yarely."
"Surely, sirs," said Gatorix, "you're not putting to sea so late in the day?"
"No help for it," said Jorian. "Hop to it, Ayuir, you, too, Zerlik."
Between a quarter and a half of an hour later, the Flying Fish cast off and wallowed out into the estuary. The ship was a two-masted lateener, with a blue hull and yellow sails. She flew a large mainsail forward and a smaller mizzen aft. Seated abreast on the thwarts abaft the cabin, Jorian and Zerlik each heaved on an oar. Jorian had to exert only a fraction of his normal strength to keep the craft going in a straight line. He was so much stronger than Zerlik that, if he had put his back into it, he would have made the Flying Fish spin in circles.