Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) (42 page)

‘. . . filthy, dressed in rags . . .’

‘. . . out of the north . . .’

‘. . . stuff going missing all through the village . . .’

‘. . . Captains’ meeting . . .’

By this time, Valior was frowning too. ‘I’ll go up right away.’ With that he was off, striding up the winding lane edged by the cottages made of local stone, and heading for
the inn. Osella, still with that worried expression, climbed aboard the
Venturer
and began to help the others get everything squared away; coiling ropes, stowing sails and swabbing fish
scales and slime from the deck. As they worked, she finally satisfied their curiosity and told them what had been happening in their absence.

It seemed that a sizeable gang of feral humans, escaped Phaerie slaves from out of the forest, had come down from the north and descended upon the settlement. They had asked for shelter, food, a
place to stay where they too could share the freedom that the fisherfolk enjoyed.

No one had been pleased to see them.

‘I’d like to get my hands on whichever idiot told them about this place; putting ideas into their heads,’ Osella said angrily. ‘Just how are we expected to absorb so
many? And why should we?’

‘But you absorbed me,’ Brynne said.

Osella made a sound that was somewhere between a huff and a snort. ‘
You
were one young girl in trouble. This was a great stinking mob that descended on us. Though there were quite
a few of them who needed help, people who were hurt or sick or had small children, a lot of the others were simply spoiling for trouble.
And
they’re a pack of thieves. Within ten
minutes of their arrival, people were missing clothes from washing lines, vegetables out of the garden, not to mention rabbits and chickens – but worst of all, one or two folk lost gutting
knives and other blades that could be used as weapons. I promise you that these aren’t the sort of neighbours that any of us would want, even if we could take them in.’

‘Which we can’t,’ Derwyn said. ‘If we start harbouring fugitive slaves, we’ll ruin our own arrangement with the Wizards. Our own freedom was too hard won to start
risking it for a horde of armed thieves.’

Up the hill, in the village tavern, the Captains were saying much the same thing. Though the fisherfolk had no formal system of governance – they were a fiercely independent lot who, due
to their race’s history of enslavement, objected in no uncertain terms to being told what to do – in practice it was the Captains of the five biggest vessels that fished the deep ocean
who were the leaders of the community. Though there were many other fishermen and women in the settlement, these plied the coast in the little boats called cobles, catching mackerel and salmon in
their season, and setting out their little home-crafted pots made of wood and tarred string to trap lobsters and crabs. There were also the foyboatmen, who made their living ferrying passengers to
various points around the Tyrineld bays, and a number of artisans such as boat builders, the glassblower who made the glass floats for the fishing nets, and the makers of ropes and sails. Those who
stayed at home, because they had young children to care for, or because they were elderly or infirm, or simply weren’t suited to the rigours of a life at sea, made and repaired nets,
cultivated gardens packed with vegetables and laden bushes of soft fruits, or cared for rabbits, chickens, pigs or goats.

There were six leading Captains in all who dealt with the major decisions for the community, for one of the five deep-sea vessels, the
Radiant Dawn
, was co-captained by a brother and
sister, Abran and Loellin, who took turns, season and season about, at being the one in authority. There was another woman Captain, Shaena, whose ship was the
Intrepid
; a tall, leathery
woman with short-cropped, greying hair; her brawny arms knotted with muscle from years of keeping up with the men at trimming sails, hauling nets and holding the tiller steady in the teeth of the
blasting winter storms.

The other three Captains were men: Valior of the
Venturer
, Mordal, the youngest of the Captains, master of the
Intrepid
, a man of medium height with a long, smooth fall of
blond hair braided back into a pigtail, a jutting jaw that bespoke his obdurate character, and a badly crooked nose that had been broken in a fight some years before when weatherbeaten Galgan, the
oldest and most respected of the Captains, had put the young upstart firmly in his place. Galgan, with his steely eyes, his white hair and short, silver beard, was still forging determinedly on
when most other skippers would have been content to pass their vessel, the
Northstar
, to their sons and spend their last years on land, taking a well-earned rest from the rigours of a life
at sea. His crew were out of the same mould: a quartet of grizzled veterans who, though their physical prowess was not what it once had been, could still outfish, outcurse, outyarn, outdrink and
outfight any sailor in Independence.

Today, no one was yarning or fighting, though at the Captains’ table in the back room of the tavern the six leaders sat with drinks in front of them and grave expressions on their faces.
‘So there you have it,’ Abran was saying to Valior and Galgan, who’d been the last to dock. ‘They just turned up out of nowhere, the whole damned crowd of them, and demanded
that we take them in.’

‘What do you mean by a crowd? How many, exactly, are we talking about here?’ Galgan, the undisputed leader of the group, demanded.

‘About forty to fifty, I should say, but some are women with young children, and some are injured or sick.’

‘Anything contagious?’ Galgan’s expression darkened.

‘We couldn’t be sure, so I sent Douala the Herbwife to examine them,’ Shaena said. ‘She’ll be able to tell us. We didn’t like the look of them, Galgan, to
tell you the truth; the leader, a woman called Danel, spoke politely and begged for our help, but a lot of her followers looked mean and desperate enough to take what they needed. Then the stealing
started, so we put some food in Shennon the boatbuilder’s big shed to trick them in there, and locked them up with guards on the doors until you came back.’ She grinned. ‘I think
you could safely say that they’re not very pleased.’

Valior shrugged. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. Once they started stealing, they forfeited any rights they might have thought they had to our help. When I’m at sea Osella is in
the house on her own, and I don’t want to spend every minute worrying about her safety.’

‘Well, with the best will in the world, they’ll certainly be no use to us here,’ Abran said. ‘This was the first time that any of them had even seen the sea, let alone
had any experience with boats. To be honest, they seem a pretty clueless bunch – I’m amazed that they managed to survive in the forest for so long.’

‘To be fair, Abran, they’ve really suffered,’ Loellin said. ‘Some of the things they told us would make your blood run cold – about the Phaerie with their flying
horses hunting them down like animals, just for sport. That’s why they came down here, once they’d heard of us. They decided that, no matter what happened to them, anything had to be
better than Hellorin’s Wild Hunt.’

Galgan sighed. ‘And I’m sorry for them, Loellin, truly I am, but we can’t sustain the burden of them for long. When I passed Shennon on the way up here his face was like a
thundercloud, and he let me know in no uncertain terms that he needs his shed back. Then there’s the matter of food and water, and arranging for them to get their slops out of there . .
.’

‘And if you keep them cooped up together in those conditions for much longer, you’ll have an epidemic on your hands that could spread through our whole community. And then where will
we be?’ Douala, a stick-thin woman with grey-streaked hair and dark eyes couched in a fan of wrinkles, stood in the doorway with a frown on her face.

‘Come in, Douala, and join us,’ Galgan said. Mordal brought her a chair from another table, and the Captains moved closer together to make a space.

Douala sat down, and refused the offer of ale or spirits in favour of a glass of water. ‘Those folk have certainly been through some hard times,’ she said. ‘I don’t think
we can save a couple of the smallest babies, they’re too starved and weak, but we might, with luck, do something for the other small children. One man has a leg that’s so badly infected
that I’ll have to take off the entire limb, but I doubt we’ll save him, even then.’ She spread out her hands in defeat. ‘Every single one of them has been weakened by cold,
hunger, and long travel. The fact that they’re as filthy as pigs in a wallow – and that’s being insulting to the pigs – doesn’t help, and several of their injuries are
beyond my skill to treat. We really need the Wizard Healers, but why should they bestir themselves for a bunch of runaway Phaerie slaves? Besides, we’d have to use our annual trading
concessions to pay for their treatment—’

‘And we certainly can’t sanction that,’ Galgan said decisively. He looked around at the other Captains. ‘These people are in desperate straits, and I pity them, but we
have a responsibility to our own community. We have to take care of them first.’

Valior sighed. ‘You’re right, I know. It cuts deep to abandon those fellow humans, who’ve already suffered so much, but we just don’t have the resources to take care of
them.’

‘It’s not just a lack of resources, Valior,’ Galgan said. ‘These strangers are a light-fingered bunch, and I won’t tolerate that. Even in the short time it took to
speak to their leader, the others were pilfering stuff all over the place. Even though people were willing to take in the women with small children, and were coming out of their houses with food
for the rest, it didn’t make any difference. I don’t care what they’ve been through; we don’t have room for thieves in our community, and that’s the end of
it.’

Shaena frowned. ‘I agree with you both, as a matter of fact, but we haven’t even mentioned the most important concern of all.’ She took a sip from her glass and looked around
the assembled faces. ‘It took us a long time and endless hard work and sacrifice to reach our unique arrangement with the Wizards. As far as I know we’re the only community of free
humans, and we’re still tied to them by trade agreements. But if we start taking in others – especially escaped slaves – the Archwizard will have us back in bondage before you
even blink. I’m telling you, these newcomers are a deadly threat to all the fisherfolk of Independence. Though it goes against the grain, the only possible thing we can do, and the sooner the
better, is to take this to Sharalind.’

Valior sighed. ‘You’re right, Shaena, and though we’re mostly men at this table, only you had the balls to say it. For the survival of our own families we’ve got to turn
those poor bastards over to the Wizards – and somehow find a way to live with ourselves afterwards.’

‘Though it goes against my grain to involve the Wizards in this, when you get right down to it, that’s the only thing we can do,’ Galgan said. ‘Does everyone
agree?’

One by one, the Captains nodded.

‘Then we’ll all go across together and see Sharalind.’ Galgan got to his feet. ‘We’ll do it right now. The sooner we get this over with, the better.’

It felt wonderful to be under a roof again. Kelon, footsore, aching and exhausted after walking all the way from the forest, was just so glad to have food and shelter once more
that he didn’t particularly care, at this point, that he couldn’t go any further whether he wanted to or not. The fisherfolk seemed to be decent people. Though their welcome had been
constrained, to say the least, with more grumbling and consternation than pleasure, surely that was only to be expected. Kelon had seen the size of their community. A group such as the ferals,
ragged mendicants with nothing to their name, was bound to put a strain on local resources. But they had worked hard at concealing their dismay and had done their best to provide food and shelter
for their unexpected guests, even sending their Herbwife to treat the sick and injured.

Even if the accommodation in this boatshed was spartan, the ferals had warmth, shelter and food in their bellies, and to Kelon’s mind the indignation of Danel and the others was premature
at best, and downright unreasonable at worst. So what if the door was guarded, to prevent the strangers from wandering around at will? The ferals had brought that upon themselves. His face burned
as he recalled the spate of petty thefts and pilfering that had taken place within the first half-hour of the ferals’ arrival, and his own embarrassment and shame when the missing items were
discovered. To have stolen from people who’d been nothing but kind and hospitable! Not for the first time, Kelon looked on his companions with a jaundiced eye. Instead of giving them shelter,
the fisherfolk had every reason to drive them away with sticks and stones.

The interior of the boatshed was a great, echoing space with sturdy wooden walls; its roof beams almost lost in the shadows high above. It was big enough to construct one of the large
ocean-going fishing boats, yet since the ferals had moved in its dimensions seemed reduced by the thronging crowd of mortals, and the echoes rang with the din of crying babies, people arguing,
people laughing or weeping, people in conversation. There was the clatter of spoon against plate as the ferals stuffed themselves with the fish stew so generously provided by the fisherfolk, and
the resounding snores of someone who was so exhausted that they could sleep through all the racket.

A stove in the corner provided welcome warmth and a reason for any number of squabbles, as individuals juggled for position, vying for who could get closest. Danel had finally been forced to
step in and give the prime territory closest to the heat source to the sick, the infirm, and the handful of families with small children. Oil lamps hung on brackets along the walls, providing a
soft golden glow and lending a cosy air to the scene.

Kelon looked around appreciatively. This was infinitely better than camping out in the forest, at the mercy of weather, wild beasts and, worst of all, the Wild Hunt of the Phaerie. Though the
fisherfolk had not been overjoyed to see the refugees they seemed like a decent, kind community. Despite the thefts, he hoped they would do their best for their unwelcome guests. Why
some
people had to complain about the situation . . .