He had never liked sea travel. It always felt dangerous to him, like giving your life over to someone else's hands only that someone was a vast, powerful and sporadically vengeful body known as '
the sea
'.
He stood, on the docks, looking at the boat that was to take him to the wilds. The slight rise and fall of it in the water as men loaded cargo up the ramp was almost mesmerising. So little wood between him and cold, wet death.
“You my passenger?” the Captain of the ship was an ageing man, grey in hair and short of teeth with a squinting left eye and a red, scabby rash that stretched from his left ear down past his collar. He wore a simple tunic and short britches that ended just below the knee. All in all he looked no different from any man on his crew save the hard stare and the air of a man in command.
“Aye, that's me. Arbiter...”
“Don't need no more than that,” the Captain interrupted without so much as a flinch. “Cas, ya got a bunk spare fer the Arbiter?”
“Aye, Cap'n.”
“Ya be sleeping with the crew. Ain't got no spare rooms seeing as this ain't no passenger ship. Only cabin is the captain's.”
“Seems like a good boat,” Thanquil said with a nod, shouldering his bags. He'd left his mare in the Inquisition compound. A shame but there wasn't room for a horse on the voyage; he'd just have to buy a new beast when he reached the wilds. If he reached the wilds.
“She's a ship, not a boat.” the Captain said in a testy voice. It was almost refreshing to find someone not terrified of Thanquil just for being an Arbiter.
“I'm sorry. I wasn't aware there was a difference.”
The Captain looked at Thanquil as if he were an ignorant child. “Ships is bigger,” he said.
“I see.”
“Inquisition's paid fer ya already but keep yaself out o' the crews' way, Arbiter. An' none o' ya burning crap whiles ya here. Only authority on a boat is the Captain's.”
“Thought you said it was a ship,” Thanquil said and immediately regretted it. “I understand, Captain. I shall refrain from burning anybody for the duration of the trip.”
The Captain growled and shouted up the ramp. “Cas, get the Arbiter stowed away. Don't want him underfoot as we cast off.”
“Aye, Cap'n,” shouted a small lad Thanquil. The boy waved Thanquil up the ramp and then darted away.
Cas was short but already turning to muscle. He wore only britches and was topless with a sun burnt torso and face. His hair was short, dark and greasy and the boy stank of the sea, as did the entire ship, its crew and in fact the sea itself. Thanquil was not looking forward to the voyage.
The boy led him into the bowels of the ship, skipping along with bare feet scuffing the wood. He stopped in front of a bunk. “'Ere ya go.”
In truth the bunk was little more than a wooden shelf surrounded by other wooden shelves. It was short, just long enough for Thanquil; there was no mattress, no sheet to cover him and no pillow on which to rest his head. It suited him just fine. He'd slept on worse, far worse and would be glad just to have a flat surface to sleep on. He wasn't sure what the worst part of the journey would be yet but was leaning between the constant fear of uncertain and unavoidable death, or stopping himself from stealing for the entire three week period. If things started going missing it wouldn't take long for fingers to start pointing in his direction.
So Thanquil sat down on his bunk and waited. He could feel the gentle bobbing of the ship beneath him, could hear the occasional creak of timbers and could imagine the cold water just a few short paces away. At least he wasn't sea sick. Some people couldn't handle the constant motion of being on the water; they went green and would spend the entire voyage emptying their stomachs over the side of the ship. Thanquil had no idea whether he'd be one of those people, he wasn't about to risk it, instead he wore a charm around his neck to ward off nausea.
He felt the boat begin to move. It was a strange sensation to know you were moving but not to be able to see any proof of it. Perhaps that was what caused sea sickness? Thanquil leaned back in his bunk, took out a small wad of papers and the tiny ink jar he kept and began to inscribe symbols onto the papers. It was always best to keep a wide variety at hand, never knew what would be needed and when.
“What ya doin'?”
Thanquil looked up to see Cas staring at him in wonder. It was possible the boy had never even seen paper before.
“I'm creating runes.”
“Oh. The Cap'n says ya can come up on deck now if ya want. What's a rune?”
“It's a... formation of power. I inscribe the rune on paper or on wood. Then when I break the rune the power is released,” Thanquil said. A simplified explanation to be sure but it would serve.
“I don't get it,” Cas said, a blank expression covering his childish features.
Thanquil grinned, glanced around to check there was no one else close by and selected a piece of paper he had recently marked, then took his dagger from its sheath on his boot. He placed the dagger against the paper and, with an easy slice, cut the paper in two, letting both pieces float to the floor. The blade of the dagger burst into bright orange flame and Thanquil was rewarded by seeing the boy's jaw drop and his eyes go wide. After a few seconds the flame, with no fuel to sustain it, gutted out.
“Not s'posed ta have fire on the ship,” Cas said, his eyes still fixed on the dagger as Thanquil wiped it on his coat then placed it back in its sheath.
“In that case, you don't tell anyone and I won't do it again.”
Cas nodded. Thanquil stood up, stretched and walked for the door leaving the boy behind to gape in wonder at the two halves of paper on the wooden floor.
Outside Thanquil was assaulted by a brisk, salty breeze that was refreshing in the face of the constant sun and heat of the region. The ship moved with constant but gentle rises and dips as it cut through the water. Sailors darted this way and that, some up on the rigging, some down on the deck, all with their own jobs to do and all going about them with no fuss. It might have been comforting except for the shadow of death following them all just waiting for the body of water below to have a violent change of mood.
Thanquil leaned on the railing at the port, or the bow, or stern... he had no idea which was which and was happy to call it the railing on the left. He could still just about see Sarth already little more than a white blob on the coastline and getting smaller by the minute.
After a while the Captain joined him by the railing and leaned with his back against it and a wild grin on his face.
“Wind is good, fer now. If it keeps up we'll make good time, Arbiter.” If Thanquil had to pick a word for the sound of the Captain's voice he would have picked '
salty
'.
“Aye but is it like to keep up, I wonder.”
“Hard ta say. The wind does what it will, goes double for the wind at sea.”
Thanquil nodded to the Captain's pointless drawl as if it was the sagest advice he'd ever heard. He'd learned long ago that often when you had nothing to say it was best to say nothing at all.
“Ya don't much like the sea do ya, Arbiter?” the Captain asked after a while.
Thanquil was always amazed by people. The Inquisition was the most feared organisation in the known world and the Arbiters were the hands that dispensed the Inquisition's righteous judgement. Most folk knew better than to talk to an Arbiter. After all, they had the authority to act as judge, jury and executioner all in the space of one conversation. However, time and time again Thanquil found himself the subject of questions from others. Perhaps it was because he hated asking questions himself.
“I wasn't aware it was that obvious,” he replied trying to let a hint of danger creep into his voice. He failed.
“Maybe not ta most,” the Captain said with a pompous tone, “but I been on the sea fer near thirty years, learn ta spot these things af' a while.”
“I'm sure you do. I find it hard to like something that has so many ways to kill me indiscriminately. Storms, giant waves, pirates, sea serpents. Hard to think of a more dangerous foe than the sea.”
The Captain grinned. “Aye, not ta mention whirlpools an' sirens an' ghost ships.” The man laughed. “Storms are a threat; it's true, but rare this time o' year. Be no giant waves where we going, see them more nearer the Dragon Empire. Pirates are a real bother but not yet met the pirate that can outrun the
Sea's Scorn
here.” He stroked the railing with the caress one would reserve for a favoured lover. “As fer sea serpents an' the rest. I been on the sea fer near thirty years an' ain't never seen any of 'em.”
“Doesn't mean they don't exist,” Thanquil said scratching the stubble on his cheeks. “I've never seen dragon but I know they exist.”
“I have,” the Captain boasted. “Bloody impressive but not near as bad as all the stories.” The man gave Thanquil a slap on the shoulder and started off. “Three weeks on board, Arbiter, give or take. Might as well make the best o' it.” He seemed a different man now that he was at sea, a much happier man than the one Thanquil had met on the docks. “Besides, ain't no harm gonna come ta you. Arbiters are the chosen of ya God, ain't they?”
Thanquil nodded with a fake smile and went back to staring out to sea. Sarth was no more than a speck on the horizon now. He chanted a quick blessing of sight and could just about make out the black tower of the Inquisition and the white tower of the imperial palace. Somehow it seemed fitting.
The Black Thorn
Fact was Korral was just about the last place Betrim wanted to be. Fact was Korral was where Betrim had been stuck for the past two days. The great herd was an always moving mass of beasts in all shapes and sizes and after just five days the herd had passed enough for the Boss' group of sell-swords to finish their journey to Korral. There were still a great many animals on the plains but not near as many and not near as packed and the beasts were as happy to give the group of sell-swords a wide birth as the sell-swords were to be on their way again.
If anything the passing of the great herd had helped. Korral was full to bursting with people. Hunters, skinners, leatherworkers, merchants, sailors and more all flocked after the great herd and the guards were already so hard pressed keeping the peace they didn't have time to keep a look out for folk with bounties on them. So Bones had found them a nice little hovel as near to the docks as possible and the Boss had made some inquiries as to getting a boat to Chade.
Only Green would have been safe walking around the streets of the free city, the rest of them were too well known, too easily recognised. Problem was though, none of them trusted Green yet so the Boss ordered them all to stay in the dirty hovel until the boat was leaving.
There was only so much being cooped up with the same folk day in and out that a man could take, Betrim reckoned, and he also reckoned he was nearing his limit. If it wasn't Swift's barbed comments it was Green's doe eyed hero worship or Bones' constant cleaning of his bones. Even Swift had taken to frowning and it took a lot to stop that one from grinning.
Today was different though. Today they were getting out of this shit hole of a free city. The Boss had all the details and they were just waiting for him to give the order. So when the southerner appeared from his and Henry's room all dressed for leaving, Betrim was about ready to
whoop
for joy.
“Time we got ourselves gone,” the Boss said flashing his shiny metal teeth at his assembled group of sell-swords. “Boat should be leavin' within the hour an' anyone not on it is gonna be missin' out on the job in Chade so...”
There was the unmistakeable tramp of boots on earth outside the hovel and the door burst open. A Korral guard attempted to rush in, another man just behind him but Swift was too quick. A throwing knife flew past Betrim and embedded itself in the guard's neck. Betrim was only a moment behind and he pushed the guard hard, forcing the bleeding man back out of the door and then slammed it shut.
Silence.
“Weapons down and come out now. By order of the Korral guard.” Came the shout from outside the hovel. At least they weren't trying to storm it any more.
Green peeked through a hole in the wall. “Shit.”
“How many, Green?” the Boss asked.
“I dunno,” the boy answered with a shaky voice. “Can't count that high.”
Swift shouldered him out the way and peered through the hole himself. “Green's right, Boss. We're fucked. Must be least twenty out there. More out o' sight no doubt.”
The Boss nodded, a grave look in his eyes. “Free city laws. If we can make it ta the boat and pay the Cap'n not ta throw us off, the guard can't take us. Bones, the back wall. Split up; make fer the docks as best ya can. Boat's called
The Whipped Gull
. Anyone not there by the time it leaves is on their own.”
By then Bones had done a damned fine job of taking the back wall apart. There was plenty of space for even the big man to squeeze through. Without another word they all went through the gap and started walking away in separate directions.
“I'm with you, Black Thorn. Lead the way.” Again Green had used his name and again he'd said it loud enough for folk nearby to hear. It was too damned much.
The Black Thorn grabbed Green by his hair and waved his axe in the boy's face. “If you even try ta fuckin' follow me I will take your damned foot off an' leave ya fer the guards. Get it?” he hissed into Green's face.
In reply Green only nodded, mute fear plain in his eyes. Betrim gave the boy a shove, took a quick look around; there were people staring but no guards, not yet anyway. With that he sauntered off as if he hadn't a care in the world leaving Green behind him to do as he would.
It didn't take the guard long to find him, didn't help that the people who had witnessed his little scene with Green were still staring at him. Betrim hadn't quite gotten to the end of the street before three guards wearing the yellow and red of Korral and wielding nasty-looking iron tipped spears spotted him and gave out a cry to raise more of their friends.
Betrim wasted no time, he turned and fled. His feet pounded on the packed earth and he was glad of the boots he wore, the boots he'd stolen last time he was in the free city. He turned into an alleyway breathing heavy with the exertion of running. The Black Thorn was built for killing folk not running around. He could hear the guards close behind him, sounded like more than three now, and that made his blood pump even faster.
