Man-packbrother had spoken to him then, much as he had done again as they travelled, his horse scared as was right, but under control. The pack would have to wait for their feast.
Thraun still had no idea what would happen next. His instinct merely drove him to see man-packbrother safely to the end of the journey. His feelings clashed painfully within him. Men weren’t prey, they were threat and he was used to removing threat from the way of the pack. It had always been so. Yet this man-packbrother, like another he knew from a buried sadness, understood like few men did.
Thraun could see this and that was why he led the pack but why he was alone. Different.
Memories flashed in his mind again. Distant and shrouded. Two legs upright . . . a lessening of speed, power and instinct . . . scent trails denied him. The memories hurt and he growled to clear his mind. But since the time he had seen man-packbrother and his companions, such clarity was denied him.
Thraun turned his head, checking the pack and the rider behind them. He sniffed the air as he loped on, feeling that time was short.
Following the wolves down the trail of a hundred and more horses, Hirad had felt the release of a tension he hadn’t known he harboured. Ilkar, Denser and The Unknown were alive. Ilkar had dropped one of his gloves, assuming Hirad would find it. They were certainly prisoners but alive, and that meant he could find and free them. And Thraun was still with him.
In his mind he knew it didn’t all add up but he couldn’t shake the notion that Thraun knew what he was doing. And it went without saying, Hirad trusted Thraun’s instinct, wolf or human.
After all, Thraun was Raven too.
Chapter 19
The Ocean Elm was signalled into Dock Berth One in the middle of what had become an unusually calm afternoon. The portmaster had long since stopped sending out a pilot to help the elven ship reach safe berth. If any were capable of navigating the shallows - which in all honesty were simple when compared to the approach to Herendeneth - it was the crew of the Elm.
The ship moved serenely towards the berth, the Captain barking out a stream of orders, bringing the sails into furl until only the foresail drove her forwards. It would be another perfect docking.
‘It’s busy today,’ remarked Ren’erei.
‘Is it?’ Erienne was scouring the dockside for evidence of her husband, indeed for any of The Raven.
‘Yes.’ Ren’erei shrugged. ‘The docks are full. We’re lucky to find a berth onshore.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘Well, if you’ll allow, you go below and keep out of sight and try to gain contact with Denser if you are able. I’ll go ashore and ask around, see what I can find out. Members of The Raven shouldn’t be hard to find.’
‘No,’ agreed Erienne and she smiled. Being recognised was usually a boost to the ego but for her, right now, it was a risk. She flipped the hood of her cloak over her red-brown hair.
‘Let’s hope that will be enough.’ Ren’erei smiled.
‘We’ll see.’ She began to walk along the deck. Arlen and its people were scant yards away, the elegant elven vessel turning many a head as she understood it always did as it moved to tie up, crew swift and nimble, acting without error. She yearned for the ground beneath her feet - a security she never craved until it was denied her.
Ren’erei caught her arm. ‘Erienne. I will find him and bring him to you as soon as I do. Trust me.’
‘I do.’ Erienne flung her arms around Ren’s neck, crushing the elf to her. ‘Thank you.’ She found tears in her eyes, a welling of emotion she’d held pent up for the whole voyage. ‘Please be quick.’
Ren’erei eased her away far enough to look into her eyes then leant forward and kissed her cheek.
‘We’ll be away from here on the morning tide and every pitch into a wave will bring you closer to Lyanna, and Denser will be at your side.’
The image filled Erienne with an elation that rushed through her body and sent those tears streaming down her cheeks even as a broad smile spread over her face. She kissed Ren’erei back and hurried below, hearing the tying-up orders sound across the deck. Just a day and they’d be resupplied and leaving for Herendeneth with The Raven on board, strong and invincible.
Erienne dropped her cloak over a chair and lay on her bunk, the first inklings of relaxation feeding across her mind.
Ren’erei walked quickly down the gangplank and on to the bustling dockside. It was just past midday and though the port was as busy as ever, the cranes creaking, the shouts of cratemen and netriders ringing out as they manoeuvred freight onto carts or into holds, there was an edge to the atmosphere.
Deciding to investigate, Ren’erei moved slowly along the water’s edge, nodding at any she recognised but keeping her eyes and ears sharp, searching for the cause. With all four deepwater berths full, crates and boxes crowded the dock as she picked her way through workers hurrying to get goods to market or to onward transport into inland Balaia.
A netrider called out from above as he swung on a net filled with luggage trunks, looking for clear space before letting the tackleman lower it to the ground. Ren’erei waved acknowledgement and jogged on a few paces.
The elf moved effortlessly through the bustle, the wind blowing the nose-wrinkling smell of fish from the market behind her. A little further on, the Lakehome Inn caught her eye. At first glance, it just looked unusually quiet and still but there was far more to it than that. The doors were closed and windows shuttered and, outside, a ring of town guardsmen kept passers-by well away from the entrance.
Ren’erei moved closer, coming to the shoulder of a dock labourer who was standing with a knot of men and women looking at the blank face of the Inn.
‘Trouble, was there?’ she asked.
The labourer turned a salt-weathered red face to her. ‘Just landed, is it?’
‘That obvious?’
‘Only explanation why you don’t know, little elf. Town’s been ablaze with it since sun-up. Earl’s throwing the Black Wings out.’
Ren’erei must have blanched, or her face jumped a little, because next heartbeat, the man’s face had hardened, his heavy brow creasing, his body tensed.
‘Bothers you, does it?’
‘That they’re leaving, no. That’s happy. That they’re here at all, that bothers.’
‘Scared, eh?’ The hard face softened.
‘Very. They don’t like my kind.’
The man acknowledged the admission. ‘Your business,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll look for you.’ He pointed to his eyes with splayed fingers. ‘Go carefully.’
Ren’erei gave a small, respectful bow. ‘Already in your debt. One thing. How many are there?’
‘Black Wings?’ The man shrugged. ‘Thirty, forty. Long gone by sundown.’
‘I hope so.’ She caught the man’s eye. ‘ Ren’erei.’
‘Donetsk,’ responded the man. ‘Always on the dock.’
The ghost of a smile. ‘Always at sea. We’ll know you. One last thing. See The Raven, come to the Ocean Elm.’ Ren’erei didn’t wait for the response. She knew Donetsk would do exactly that should he see or hear of them. Dockers could be useful allies. There were always deals to be done and whispers to be heard but knowing the clipped patter made it possible. This time, though, Ren’erei wasn’t worried about securing supplies at low cost. Security, muscle and discreet eyes were the goods of real value today.
The elf carried on along the dockside, assessing the readiness and flags of the other three ships at birth. All were ocean-going merchantmen as opposed to coastal vessels. None was less than one hundred feet long and while one was flying the flag of the much diminished Pontois barony, the other two were elven, hailing from Calaius.