‘Was it Mark?’ Garec asked.
‘No, it was too far north.’
Kellin swallowed dryly. Despite her growing familiarity with Steven and Gilmour’s special abilities, she didn’t like the thought that that there were insidious magics hunting for them. She asked, ‘So Garec and I will hire a ship?’
‘That’s right,’ Gilmour said.
‘What do you know about ships?’ she asked the bowman.
‘Not a rutting thing.’ Garec grinned. ‘You?’
‘Less, I’m afraid.’
‘Grand,’ Garec smiled, ‘then we’re the perfect pair for this charge. But Gilmour, you need to give us more than ten days. What if we don’t find anyone setting sail right away? What if we can’t get past the blockade? What if it takes us too long to get there? You and Steven could be capsized in a storm or blown halfway to Raiders Cove.’
‘Can’t we take your ship?’ Kellin asked. ‘Can all of us fit? Or is it too small?’
‘In Mark’s boat, we’d be fish food in a matter of avens,’ Gilmour said sadly.
Steven blanched. ‘I don’t like this at all, Gilmour. Why are we doing this?’
‘Because Mark will be watching for us,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘He knows we didn’t die in Meyers’ Vale, and he knows it will only be a matter of time before we come after him. Every customs official, every dockside informant, every Malakasian sympathiser on that wharf will be looking for us, not to mention almors, wraiths, acid clouds or slimy bacterial infections he might leave waiting in the shadows. No, going into Orindale is a mistake for us.’
‘But not for us?’ Kellin asked.
‘No. Mark will track Steven and me, just like I tracked that schooner yesterday. He will search for our mystical energy – he can almost certainly sense the far portal we carry.’
The bow rose again, higher this time, and fell into the following trough with a splash.
‘What was that?’ Kellin asked.
‘Tide must be coming in,’ Garec guessed.
‘Sending waves this far upriver?’ Steven said.
‘What else could it be?’
Kellin returned to the discussion. ‘All right, so it will be more difficult for Mark to spot us.’
‘You can blend in much easier,’ Gilmour agreed.
‘Fine, but you still haven’t answered Garec’s questions.’ Kellin sidled a few steps closer to Garec. She wanted to reach out for him, but fought the urge. ‘What about the blockade, the customs officers, the informants? How can Garec and I find an honest captain willing to undertake an outlaw journey against the crown? None of them will do it. It’s a one-shot agreement: they take us to Pellia and they never work for the Malakasian Army again. Who would take us?’
Gilmour passed the rest of his loaf around. Then he said, ‘You forget, Kellin, that I have a new head, full of army knowledge. While this chubby young fellow didn’t spend much time in Orindale, he did know that the blockade around the city had broken up, so getting to the wharf ought to be quite easy; you might even decide to stay right on this barge – our captain seems happy with the fare, and he hasn’t given us a second glance all day. Also, I’ll remind you that in a deft display of self-preservation, our good friend Steven Taylor stole some sorry slob’s life savings back in Estrad.’
‘Hey, Mark found it,’ Steven broke it. ‘I gave the guy a couple of ballpoint pens. It was a fair trade!’ He smiled. ‘Well, maybe not immediately, until he invents the ballpoint himself. Perhaps we did come out on the upper end of that one.’
‘It’s a gods-rutting fortune, Steven, and you’re finally going to get to spend it buying safe passage to Pellia.’
‘With my money?’
‘Your stolen money, yes,’ Kellin said. ‘Pellia is a long way.’
‘But you’re not buying safe passage to Pellia,’ Gilmour interrupted.
‘Demonpiss,’ Garec said, ‘make up your mind.’
‘You are buying safe passage to Averil.’
‘Averil?’ Kellin said, surprised. ‘But that’s nearly a Moon’s walk from Pellia.’
Garec grinned, finally understanding. ‘We’re not going to Averil, Kellin.’
‘Well, where in the gods-rutting… oh, I see. We get him out to sea; we pick up these two, and we renegotiate our destination.’
‘Renegotiate.’ Gilmour was pleased. ‘I like that way of putting it. Yes, I do.’ He dug in his pack for a pipe and a tin of Falkan tobacco.
Steven said, ‘You are a nefarious old man, Gilmour.’
‘I am not!’ He lit his pipe with a gesture and a ring of smoke encircled his head. ‘This fellow was less than two hundred Twinmoons old. I’m as young as you.’
Kellin frowned. Something wasn’t right.
‘What’s the matter?’ Now Garec did put his arm around her.
‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘What doesn’t, my dear?’ Gilmour puffed while he spoke.
‘Why go to all the trouble of finding your boat and sailing the length of the fjord if all you’re going to do is join us on whatever vessel we hire for the trip?’
‘Because I’m betting that whatever I encountered on the Ravenian Sea yesterday is not the only shipment making its way north.’
‘I get it,’ Garec said. ‘Mark might look for you two, but what he’ll find is-’
‘Just another ship radiating magic,’ Kellin finished Garec’s thought.
‘Exactly.’
‘Like I said, Gilmour, you are a nefarious old-’
‘Young.’
‘Young man.’
Garec laughed. ‘All right. I understand, but either way, I think you should give us twelve days. There’s no telling how long it will take us to find a ship and a willing captain.’
‘Fine,’ Steven said, ‘we’ll make it twelve days, off the mouth of that fjord where I found you when I came back from Denver.’
Garec glanced at Kellin. ‘That will give us a little time to look for Versen.’
‘And maybe Sallax,’ Steven added.
‘Right. We might get luck-’
‘Wait,’ Gilmour cut him off. He stared west, his eyes focused on nothing.
Steven felt the magic gurgle to life; something was coming.
‘What is it?’ Kellin looked nervous but moved away from Garec, making more room to fight if necessary.
‘It’s Mark,’ Steven said.
Gilmour nodded. ‘The table’s open. Brace yourselves.’
THE HARBOUR
Major Tavon didn’t look tired, though she had been awake for days, but spry, well-rested and cheery. However, her uniform, unchanged in as many days, was filthy, accompanying what Captain Blackford assumed was the breakdown in Tavon’s mind. Her shirt was untucked, her leather belt and boots mottled with mud and neglect, and she looked as though she had been beaten up by a gang of dockers. It was clear that the once-excellent soldier had been taken over by a destructive force that had driven her to retrieve the stone artefact, whatever it was, and see it safely to Orindale. If we’re even staying in Orindale, Captain Blackford thought.
Major Tavon stood outside the boxy living-quarters stacked on the aft end of the westbound barge like so many discarded crates. She was standing a silent vigil; she hadn’t moved from her place in front of the centremost wooden door. She had instructed Blackford, Hershaw and the single platoon of soldiers accompanying them to make fast the granite relic for their journey downstream.
Colonel Pace had come as quickly as he could to Wellham Ridge. When news reached him that the major had murdered several men and then taken the battalion into the foothills without orders or any communication with any senior officers, he had mustered a company of soldiers, including one squad of the disgusting but brutally effective Seron warriors, and made the trip east in hopes of quelling the unrest.
Major Tavon had killed him with a glance. Like Captain Denne, Colonel Pace’s body was left looking as though he had been torn open by wild animals. One look from her had quelled the company commander accompanying Pace. Even the Seron seemed to know better than to mobilise against the wiry little woman. With Pace dead and Captains Hershaw and Blackford standing by, it didn’t take the colonel’s Orindale security force long to understand that if they crossed this woman, they would die.