Ocean Of Fear (Book 6) (12 page)

There were few riders and fewer carts. Most freight seemed to be carried by manacled humans, slaves taken by the pirates. The wealthier citizens rode around in litters. Drunks lay in the mud, some with a stillness that suggested that they would never rise again. Bunches of armed men swaggered along. Each group wore a different colour or had a scarf containing a different symbol draped somewhere on head, throat or arm. They were the identifying marks of different crews loyal to a captain, an admiral or a fleet.

There were men and women from every corner of the Sunlands and beyond, and more than just men. Kormak saw one or two of the Lost, elves who had broken their connection with their home forest. There were giants and even a few orcs, which was unusual, for most of their kind hated and feared the sea. He watched them all with eager curiosity.

“It’s good to have something other than ship’s biscuit,” said Jonas. “Although at these prices our host should have laid on a feast.”

Kormak glanced around at the few diners who shared the veranda. They all had the look of men wanting fried food to go with their hangover. “It’s what the customers want and what they can afford,” he said.

“You seem happy enough,” said Jonas.

“Like you, I am pleased to be eating something other than ship’s biscuit.”

“It’s a lot quieter through the day, isn’t it?”

“Everybody’s inside sleeping off last night. By noon, they’ll be ready to start again.”

“Well, we have business to attend to,” said Jonas. “Pleasant as this feast has been. I’ve got to go pay a visit to my contacts here.” It was obvious from the priest’s manner that he did not want the Guardian accompanying him.

“We meet back here this evening then,” said Kormak.

“As you say.”

KORMAK STROLLED THROUGH the streets. As the sun rose higher in the sky the city woke. More and more men staggered from taverns, rooming houses and mansions and made their way to the docks. More and more slaves carried bigger and bigger loads along the streets. Armed men strode everywhere, eyeing each other like dogs from rival packs, hailing comrades and friends, diving into taverns and coffee houses.

Kormak heard a surprising number of deals being made as he walked. Despite the city’s reputation, merchants from all across the Kingdoms of the Sun and from far beyond came here to trade. They could pick up cargoes for a fraction of their normal price.

Kormak enjoyed the sights of the city; the long low buildings, the sprawling taverns, the large, ostentatious mansions of the rich. He liked the air of freedom about the place. Something about it appealed to a part of him he tried to suppress. He reminded himself of the ruins of Wood’s Edge. That was what this sort of freedom led to.

He followed the meandering streets all the way down to the harbour, noticing more and more because he chose to, all the unattractive aspects of the city—the piles of refuse in the streets, the sprawled sots, the unburned corpses, the frightened faces of the slaves, and the nervousness of the merchants.

A tall, stern faced man strode by him with a dozen cutthroats in tow. His manner showed he was a captain, as self-important as any Siderean nobleman, and in his own way, quite as powerful. Captains owned ships and their crews formed bands of warriors as fierce as any knight’s retainers and just as devoted for as long as their captain remained successful. The man noticed Kormak looking at him and stared back, a challenge in his stare.

With an effort of will, Kormak kept walking, ignoring the sudden burst of laughter behind him. He was not here to fight with some jumped-up cockerel. He had a mission and he needed to be about it.

Port Blood harbour was huge, a sheltered bay enfolded by two promontory arms. A tower stood at each point of the so-called Claws. In fogs they became lighthouses, in sieges, strongpoints.

Small islands dotted the bay. Each contained a mansion as big as a palace and as defensible as a keep. A forest of masts rose above the multiple piers. Small boats moved everywhere. Great warehouses lined the sea front.

A giant slave, half again Kormak’s height, with shoulders as broad as Kormak’s outstretched arms, strode by carrying a pole the size of a small tree-trunk. Cages of parrots hung from either end. The birds peered at him with bright mad eyes. The giant had the slow, somnolent look that gelding always gave their race. He bore no resemblance to the ferocious warriors from the cold lands Kormak had fought in his youth.

Taverns dotted the waterfront. Some of them rose above the water itself, timber structures, built on stilt-like pylons, joined to the land by carved wooden bridges, with verandas on their edges from which a man could study the harbour. Kormak picked one and strode inside.

He ordered a beer and looked out to sea. Ships came and went, under sail and under oar. The air of a bustling port hovered over the city. Tidal waves of wealth flowed through Port Blood and men made money every step of the way.

“Sure and it’s a grand sight, isn’t it?” said the bartender.

“That it is,” said Kormak.

“You looking for a place on a ship?”

“I might be?”

“You have the look of a fighting man.”

“I should hope so. I have spent my whole life at it.”

“Fall out with your previous captain, did you? Not that it’s any of my business.”

“Something like that. Who is hiring?”

“There’s Blane of the Sea Swallow, good ship. He’s looking for men. There’s Timon of the Axe Raider—they say he’s lucky and to tell the truth I think they are right. There’s Marselus of the Storm Petrel. He’s always looking for men who can use a blade.”

“They all drink here, do they?”

The barman smiled. “Sometimes, when they come in off a voyage, and they stand their crew a grog or two.”

“And the bartender as well, no doubt.”

“Aye.”

“Have one yourself then.”

“Don’t mind if I do, sir. I am certain the owner won’t mind since I am he.” He poured a small tot of grog into a jug and clinked glasses with Kormak.

“How about the Kraken?” The Guardian asked.

The temperature in the room cooled. “Not that I would speak ill of any captain but why would you want to be going on a sorcerer’s ship?”

“I’m not saying I want to sail with him. I am just curious.”

“A bad thing to be curious about, sir, and no mistake. Those that are curious about the Kraken tend to be found floating in the harbour. He keeps himself to himself, never speaks at the Council of Captains. Never comes into a city tavern and stands a round, and his crew are a grim lot.”

“They say he’s just returned to the city.”

“They say right—he came in yesterday, riding a new ship, a sweet looking trireme, Siderean I would judge by the lines.”

“That’s what I had heard.”

“The oddest thing was that he sailed off in another galley, not the Kraken’s Reach. That’s his flagship and a monstrous size of one too.”

“Maybe he went somewhere where he needed a vessel that did not draw much water. Upriver somewhere maybe.”

“Such was the speculation,” said the bartender. “He’s a deep one the Kraken is and he keeps his schemes to himself.”

“In any case he found a new ship or took it in battle. His crew is hard enough and he works all kinds of magic or so they say.”

“I’ve heard that he can call his namesake from the bottom of the sea.”

The bartender shrugged, uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. “That would not surprise me. It’s not the only thing he calls from the dark waters. He keeps company with the Dwellers in the Deep.”

“Who would they be?”

“Old Ones, sir, or so they say. They inhabited the seas around here afore ever the Old Kingdoms sank. Some of their descendants dwell in the lost cities yet.”

Kormak looked at him. He made his expression disbelieving.

“I’m just telling you what Rhiana and the other divers tell me. They’re the ones who make a living plundering the drowned ruins.”

“And how would they do that?”

“They’re the deep divers, sir, not me. You would have to ask them.”

“Where would I find this Rhiana?”

The bartender was suspicious now. He was wondering what Kormak was really after. “Along the waterfront or on the Blue Boy if it’s in harbour.”

“Thanks,” Kormak said.

The bartender pursed his lips. He seemed to have come to a conclusion about Kormak. “They never share their real secrets with the likes of you and me,” he said. “The divers are a secretive bunch.”

Kormak finished his drink and left.

He strolled along the pier, listening to men talk. It was not all deep sea sailors in the harbour. There were fishermen and lobstermen all with small boats tied to the jetties. He passed giant ocean-going traders, and sleek war triremes and every size and class in between. He sought for the recognisable lines of the Ocean’s Blade but did not see her.

He ducked into a supplier’s shop and bought a spyglass and headed out to the end of the pier. He adjusted the viewfinder until eventually he saw the Ocean’s Blade moored out by one of the furthest islands, near the mouth of the harbour. There seemed to be a skeleton crew on board. He shifted his point of view to the mansion. It sat on a rock and seemed to take up all the space. The walls looked thick enough to resist a siege. The only obvious way on or off the island was via the pier to which the Ocean’s Blade was lashed.

A few sailors came and went from ship to mansion but most of the local ships gave the place a wide berth. Kormak studied it. He supposed that you could get in via the pier but it was always guarded and it looked like a difficult place to fight your way into. It might go better if he took a ship out and scaled the islands low cliffs and then the walls of the mansion. There were windows there that looked as if they could be forced.

He considered the approaches. He could hire a small boat to take him there but there was no guarantee that any of the locals would not betray him and raise the alarm. He supposed he could always steal a small vessel. It was not the best way to go about such a thing—without a floor plan of the building he would need to find his own way through and improvise. He’d done such things before but it wasn’t the easiest way.

He studied the palace for most of the afternoon.
 
As the day wore on, he became aware that a tall spare figure wrapped in a dark cowled cloak was watching him.
 
The individual seemed to be looking out to sea but occasionally the head would turn in Kormak’s direction and then look away again.

As the sun set, Kormak decided it was time to meet Jonas. He turned and walked down the dock. After a few moments, the cowled figure did the same. He padded up the gentle slope away from the harbour.
 

The taverns were doing a roaring business. The streets were full of brawling, drunken sailors, walking barefoot through the mud. Behind him, the cowled figure threaded its way through the crowd.

There was no sense in leading his pursuer to the rendezvous with Jonas.
 
The figure appeared to be alone, so he ducked down a side alley and waited. The cloaked stranger paused at the entrance of the alley and peered into the darkness. It waited for a few moments, glanced sideways and then moved into the alley, still leaning on its staff.

Kormak stepped forward with his hand on the hilt of his weapon and said, “Why are you following me?”

 
“I was curious as to why someone else would be interested in the Kraken’s island.” The stranger’s voice was high and light. The eyes caught and reflected the distant light in an odd way.

“Let me have a look at your face,” Kormak said.

The figure shrugged back the cowl, revealing the face of beautiful woman.
 
Her silver hair was cropped short. Her eyes were an odd shade of green. A milky film gave the appearance of blindness then it vanished and her eyes looked normal.

“Satisfied?” the woman asked. Her neck looked as if there were two long scars running part of its length on either side.

“Who are you?”

“You’re not very polite.”

“And you are surprisingly unafraid for a woman confronted by an armed man in a back alley.”

She smiled. “I am armed and unlike you I can use this weapon in a heartbeat.”

“You are assuming I cannot.”

“A master swordsman, eh?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I’ve killed a few of those in my time.”

“With a staff? In this limited space.”

Her thumb moved slightly. A long silver blade emerged from the tip of the staff, turning it into a very sharp spear. “A staff is a formidable enough weapon in the right hands,” she said. “But a harpoon is even more so.”

“It seems we have reached an impasse.”

“No. I have a weapon drawn and you don’t. I would say you are at a distinct disadvantage.”

Kormak shrugged. Her smile widened. Her teeth were very white and pointed.
 

“You adopt a convincing air of nonchalance,” she said. “I would prefer not to test your claims by spilling your blood, so perhaps we can come to an accommodation.”

 
“If you tell me why you were studying both me and the Kraken’s palace.”

“Are you his guardian then?” She placed an odd emphasis on the word guardian.

“No, I am just curious about your interest.”

“Ah, now I can tell you are not a local,” she said, a faint mocking tone in her voice. Kormak briefly wondered what had given him away but he could see how she had come to that conclusion. Clearly she expected to be recognised and her relationship with the Kraken was apparently a well-known thing.

“I am an Aquilean.”

“Yes,” she said, “I know. And those are rare enough in Port Blood that I might be expected to recognise one. Yours are not a sea-faring people.”

“Apparently not,” he said.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth,” she said. “It would spare us both a lot of bother.” She leaned towards him with the harpoon point.

Kormak’s hand slapped the blade to one side, just behind the point. He moved forward, keeping his weight against the shaft so she could not swing it back.
 
She dropped the blade and stepped back, drawing her dagger.