The Exile and the Sorcerer (11 page)

After an awkward silence, Marith took up the conversation. “So you’re planning on staying in Torhafn?”

“For the summer. Maybe I’ll move on after that.”

“Then you must accept a reward to see you through winter, when work dries up. We can really never thank you enough for finding Derry and rescuing us.”

“It was nothing. I only regret leaving my sword behind.”

“You’ve got a sword!” Marith said in surprise.

“And a shield, a short spear, and a hunting bow.”

Marith swirled the brandy around in her glass thoughtfully. “I guess you have to be well armed in a town like this.”

Tevi’s composure had recovered enough for her to smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of walking around the streets with all that on me. But is Torhafn so much worse than anywhere else?”

“Definitely. You’ve picked the nastiest town I know.”

“Where else would you recommend going?”

“Anywhere. It would have to be an improvement.”

“Except the Halvia peninsular,” Verron chipped in.

“What’s wrong with Halvia?” Tevi asked.

“A family of dragons.”

“Oh.”

“But there’s lots of other places you could make a decent living, and there are so many things you should see.” Little encouragement was needed for the traders to launch into an enthusiastic account of their travels, which rapidly turned into a nostalgic review, their audience forgotten.

“You remember the first time we met?” Verron asked his partner.

“You won’t let me forget it.”

“There you were, hanging over the rail on the aft deck. I don’t know about the ship, but you were certainly eight sheets to the wind.”

“I was seasick, not drunk!” Marith said indignantly.

“So you said, but I’ve never seen you have trouble sailing since.”

Tevi settled into the chair and closed her eyes. She had been working at the market from first light. The voices faded to a background hum as the warmth and the brandy overpowered her in a softly enveloping cocoon of sleep.

*

Tevi awoke with a start. The fire had burned down to a dull glow, and the pale colour of her clothes indicated that they were dry. While she had slept, Marith and Verron had shifted away and were talking quietly, their heads close together.

Tevi hauled herself upright and said, “I must be off.”

At Tevi’s words, the two traders exchanged small nods as if a decision had been reached.

Marith spoke. “Actually, we’ve got a proposition to put to you. Tonight has brought home to us that we’re very vulnerable. Normally, we’d have hired a couple of mercenary guards, but due to local difficulties, they’re in short supply. We desperately need extra protection.”

“You want to employ me as a bodyguard?”

“Ah...well...” Marith hesitated. “It’s not quite that simple. We’re members of the Protectorate Guild of Traders and Merchant Adventurers. Our guild has a negotiated agreement with the Guild of Mercenary Warriors so that we’re only allowed to hire their members to guard us or our property. In return, we get discount rates. If we were caught breaking the rules, we’d be flung out of our guild, and all our loans would be revoked.”

“Then what is your proposition?” Tevi asked, confused. A month before, Marith’s words would have been complete gobbledegook to her. Now, she could just about draw some sense from them.

“Well, there’s nothing to stop you coming with us as a friend. We could even pay you a reward, as long as we make it very clear that it’s purely for finding our son.”

“But of course, if we were attacked by bandits, we’d be very pleased if you were to defend yourself,” Verron added brightly.

Tevi frowned as she considered what the traders had said and what they probably meant. “Isn’t that what they call ‘bending the rules’?”

Marith shrugged. “Oh, no. Just being a little imaginative in interpreting them.”

While she turned the idea over, Tevi watched the embers twinkling on the burning logs. She did not know the identity of the thieves she had clashed with, but it was certain she had made enemies that night. Leaving Torhafn might be a very good idea—and sooner rather than later.

She nodded “It sounds better to me than staying here. When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow. Will that be all right?”

“I’ve got a boat in the harbour. I’m not sure what to do with it.”

Verron smiled. “Well, if you like, Marith will help you sell it.”

The watch were calling midday and Torhafn market was awash with its usual chaotic activity as the last bale was loaded onto the wagon. Tevi heaved it into place and then helped Verron and Kimal secure the tarpaulin cover. Nearby, Marith was finalising payment to a fur trader from northern Walderim, who appeared to be wearing half his stock across his own broad back.

“I hear you’re leaving town.”

Tevi glanced around at the voice. Aigur stood behind her. “Yes.”

“Derag said you came looking for me this morning.”

“I wanted to say goodbye. These folk have asked me to go with them, and it’s not safe for me to stay in Torhafn.”

“Yes. Derag told me about that as well.” Aigur nodded in the trader’s direction. “They’re from the Protectorate?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be going there with them?”

“Is that not wise?”

“You could do a lot worse.” Aigur looked wistful. “I’m tempted to go back myself.”

“You came from the Protectorate?” Tevi asked in surprise.

“Long ago. And if I hadn’t been a fool, I’d never have been forced to leave. It’s a good place for the honest. You should do well.”

“Well...maybe.” Tevi shrugged self-consciously.

“Oh, go on with you.” Aigur nudged her in the ribs. “Promise me something?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a town called Longford Ash. You won’t find anyone there who remembers me, or if they do, they won’t speak well of me, but if ever you pass through, go to the Blue Boar Inn. Buy a tankard of their best ale, and toast the old place for me.”

“I will. I promise.”

Aigur gave a toothless smile and patted Tevi’s arm. “Good luck. May your gods watch over you.”

“And may your gods watch over you.”

“I think they gave up on me long ago.”

The wagon rocked as Verron climbed onto the driver’s seat. Aigur met Tevi’s eyes. “I think your friends are ready to go. Farewell, Tevi.”

“Farewell, Aigur.”

A lump rose to Tevi’s throat. Life in the islands had given her little experience at goodbyes—until recently. Her purse was heavy with coin from the sale of her boat. She was tempted to give it to the old woman, but she knew the offer would be refused. All Tevi could do was smile and take her place by Verron. When she looked back, there was no sign of Aigur among the market crowd.

Marith, with Derry beside her, steered the leading wagon. Kimal rode on a saddle pony that was dwarfed by the huge carthorses. The wagons crawled through the busy streets, rumbling over uneven cobbles. Tevi watched the stream of mean faces flow past. She was not sorry to be leaving. The weather was at its most dismal for their departure, a grey overcast morning holding the promise of rain. Colours were muted in the sullen light. To the east, the Aldrak Mountains were lost in cloud.

A ruined gatehouse marked the remains of the old city walls. Thereafter, the dwellings became even more squalid, and the road turned into a rutted dirt track. Soon, they left the last miserable hovels behind and began the steep ascent into the hills south of Torhafn. As the gradient sharpened, the horses strained against the load, their harness creaking alarmingly. A niche cut into the rock held a small shrine. Tevi stared at the statue to take her mind off the sheer drop on the other side of the road. The nearer horse snorted.

“Is this road safe?” Tevi asked.

“There won’t be any bandits this close to town,”

“I was thinking more about falling.”

Verron smiled. “The horses will manage fine.”

After more hairpin bends, the road levelled out. Verron leaned back and relaxed his grip on the reins. “I’m always glad to get out of Torhafn. It’s the worst town I know, and I’ve seen some rough spots. Marith and I used to work the eastern seas, out past Ekranos and the straits of Perithia. We even travelled north to Tirakhalod a few times.”

“You don’t go there anymore?”

“They can be dangerous places. We risked it because there’s a fortune to be made. But now we’re getting older, we prefer a quieter life. For the last few seasons, we’ve done the southern trade route. It’s a lot safer, apart from Torhafn. There’s not as much profit, but we’ve built enough capital to trade in luxuries.”

“I’d heard that in the Protectorate, the sorcerers take everyone’s money.”

“Not all of it. We pay our tithes to the Guild, who pass some on to the Coven as taxes.”

“You don’t mind paying taxes?”

Verron laughed. “I admit I’d rather not, but there isn’t any option. Sorcerers have controlled every civilisation since time began. The Coven of Lyremouth leads the Protectorate, but they let the guilds manage their own internal affairs. It’s benign and, best of all, stable. The Protectorate has been going for over four hundred years, which makes it unique.”

“What happened to the other civilisations?”

“They collapsed when the sorcerer who built them died. But when the head of the Coven dies, they just elect another Guardian.”

Tevi frowned. “Aigur said the Protectorate was a good place to live.”

“It is, but you’ll have to wait to see it—not until we reach Serac in the autumn.”

The wagons reached the crest of the hill. Ahead of them, the road dipped across a swathe of rolling moor. Tevi twisted in her seat and looked back. Seen from a distance, Torhafn was not so bad. If you did not know better, you could imagine the docks were quaint. Tevi’s gaze shifted to the horizon, a grey blur of rain and mist. Far out to sea was Storenseg. Then the wagons rolled forward, and both town and sea were lost over the brow of the hill.

*

Despite Verron’s fears, the journey to Scathberg went without incident. The only people on the road were fellow traders and couriers. To pass the time, Verron gave Tevi lessons in steering the wagon, and Kimal taught her riding.

The mountainous islands had not favoured land travel; the sea was the main highway and the original settlers had not taken horses with them. As a girl, Tevi had sat on the wiry donkeys that were used to pull carts, but that had been a game for children, not a method of transport. However, Tevi soon acquired a degree of competence on horseback.

They entered Scathberg eighteen days after leaving Torhafn. The sun was high as they rode down the main street, lined with shops and houses. The architecture bore a strong resemblance to the richer parts of Torhafn, with grey stone buildings and slate roofs, but there was no way Tevi could confuse the two towns.

“It feels friendlier,” she said to Verron.

“True. You don’t have to sit with your back to the wall in the taverns.”

The distinctive sound of a market was growing louder, a hubbub overlaid with the shouts of peddlers. Just before they reached it, the wagons turned into a courtyard and came to a halt. A thin young man of twenty or so stepped out of a doorway. Although it was midday, his bleary eyes and dishevelled clothing revealed that he had not long been awake. The dark shadow of stubble on his jaw allowed Tevi to be sure of his gender.

Marith jumped down. “Well met, Yarle.”

“Well met, Marith, Verron.” He gave a half-hearted nod.

“Is your mother available?”

“She died last autumn. I’m running the business now,” Yarle said, looking at his feet.

Marith floundered for a suitable response. “I’m sorry to hear that. I enjoyed doing business with her.”

“She got a fever.”

“That’s tragic. She wasn’t old.”

Yarle shrugged. He clearly did not want to discuss it. “You’re here to trade?”

“Of course. I’ll show you our goods.” Marith took her lead from the young man.

A tap on her knee made Tevi look down. Verron had wandered around the wagon. “We’ll leave Marith to it. She works best on her own.” He raised his voice. “I’m going to show Tevi around the market. You can meet us at the Three Barrels when you’re finished. I’ll reserve a couple of rooms.”

“That’ll be fine,” Marith called back, preoccupied with the business of barter. She spared no more attention as Tevi and Verron left the courtyard, accompanied by the two boys.

*

Marith joined them an hour later, sitting on benches outside the inn, overlooking a small square. Around the central fountain, children were playing and a few servants stood gossiping. Porters trundled across pushing handcarts or balancing baskets on their heads. In the distance, the Aldrak Mountains raised their snow-covered peaks against a clear blue sky.

“How did it go with Yarle?” Verron asked.

“Like a lamb to the slaughter. I almost felt sorry taking the money. He’ll never be in business by next year. He’s got as much talent for bargaining as I have for flying.”