The Jongurian Mission (32 page)

“If that’s how you would like to look at it.”

Grandon had given him a hard look then peered back out at the sea.
“I knew that at some point I would be taken off of that island. At first I believed it would come soon. My countrymen would realize their mistake in crowning the young boy king and come rushing back to the island begging me to take the throne once again. I entertained those delusions for the first year, and then I began to think that my fellow Regidians would send a small ship to take me back to my province to live out my days in peace. For two more years I looked forward to that happening. After that I stopped looking toward the sea for my salvation. I began to construct my own boat out of the materials the island could provide. It wasn’t much. Thick wood is rather sparse on the island, as I soon found out. I quickly realized that the best I could manage would be to lash some thick branches together into a makeshift raft. It took me several months to get it completed to my satisfaction and equipped with enough water and food to sail.”

Grandon had sighed and gave a slight smile before he continued with his tale.

“I chose a clear day and at low tide pushed my little raft out into the surf.
I made it out into the large breakers and was hurled back toward the shore, my raft torn to splinters by the force of the waves even at their weakest. I was utterly dejected, but all I can do is look back and laugh now. My Adjurian opponents were quite brilliant in choosing the location for me; there was no way that I was getting off that island by myself. So I put away all hopes in that regard; they would do nothing but weigh me down, I thought. I continued to live day-by-day, but deep down I suppose that I secretly still hoped, and even expected, that someone would not forget about me and that a ship would be sent.” Grandon had looked over at Leisu at that moment. “And it would seem that someone has not forgotten about me, although I’m a bit surprised that it’s a Jongurian that has sent for me. I never would have expected that.”

“Well,” Leisu had said, straightening, “it
’s as much your nephew as it is us. I don’t know all of the particulars as to his and my master’s plan concerning you, but from what I do know it was he that approached us first.”

“Yes, Jossen always did take after me in that he could see an opportunity and grab it,” Grandon had replied.
He had turned to Leisu then. “So there is nothing more that you can tell me about this plan that my nephew and your master have for me then?”

“No, I know little of it myself, I’m afraid.”
Grandon had turned back to the sea at that, but Leisu had pressed on, trying to placate him. “I’m sure that more will be made known to you when we arrive in Weiling,” he’d said.

Grandon did
n’t respond to that so Leisu had left him to his thoughts. That had been three days before and they’d said little since. Now, however, they would approach Nanbo Island and the answers that they both sought.

After several days of nothing but blue seas all around them, Leisu was happy to see the barren rocks of Nanbo Island appear on the horizon.
There wasn’t much to the island except several small fishing villages and the larger town of Weiling where the imperial trade offices were located. This was where Adjurians and Jongurians used to meet to hammer out deals acceptable to both for their various goods. Now, however, those imperial offices remained vacant and unused, and had been ever since the war and the cessation of all trade between the two countries nearly twenty years before. Leisu heard someone’s footsteps draw near on the wooden planking of the deck and turned, surprised to see Grandon coming to stand beside him.

“What business do we have in Weiling?” Grandon asked as he put his hands on the railing and stared out at the approaching island, still far off in the distance.
His long hair had been cut back and tied into a small tail at the back of his head, Leisu saw. The beard which had covered his entire face was now trimmed neatly into a small goatee, though it still did a good job of hiding the man’s nose and mouth.

“None, really,” Leisu replied.
“We’ll dock and unload some fish that was caught over the past few days and take on some extra provisions. It’s all really for show. It would be suspicious for a ship to sail past Nanbo for so long a time and then bypass it altogether when seen again.”

“I see.
So we’ll be just a few hours in port then?”

“I don’t think it
’ll take much longer.”

“Will I be permitted to stretch my legs on shore?” Grandon asked, turning to look at Leisu.

Leisu returned his gaze and thought for a moment.
His master had been explicit that Grandon was to remain out of sight until he was safely delivered. Even taking him from the docks to Zhou’s residences in Bindao was to follow a painstaking process. Grandon was supposed to be tucked away in a crate or hidden in the back of a wagon; whatever it took to ensure that he was kept out of sight entirely. Leisu hadn’t mentioned this yet to Grandon, and was not planning to do so until they were within sight of Bindao’s harbor. It now appeared that the news could wait no longer.

“My master was adamant that you not step foot off of this boat until we reach Bindao, and then you are to be hidden from view,” Leisu said to Grandon, returning the man’s unnerving gaze without trouble.

Grandon was quiet for a moment, his brows bunched up in thought. “I see. And how are you to make sure that this order is carried out, may I ask, Leisu?”

Leisu knew that Grandon only used his name when he was sure of getting his way.
He’d spoken his name the first day on the ship when Grandon insisted on standing at the rail and looking out. Leisu had approached to suggest he may be more comfortable in the captain’s quarters or below deck, out of the glaring sun and gusting winds. Grandon had listened to his entreaties with his ears half-shut, then when Leisu had grown more firm in his protestations, Grandon had turned to look at him, and without even a change of expression, had turned Leisu’s blood cold.

“Leisu,” Grandon had said, “I am sure that your master has told you many things in regard to me, and most of them were uttered with the best of intentions.
But I tell you, Leisu, neither you nor your master knows me. If I want to stand at the railing and look out at the sea, then I will do so.”

He had turned and
done just that, not sparing another moment for the Jongurian. Leisu hadn’t argued with him, seeing little harm in the man’s eccentricity. Now, however, as they approached Weiling, Leisu’s orders had more weight. He steadied himself and drew in a deep breath before answering Grandon’s question.

“Why, sir,” he calmly replied, “I have a ship full of armed me that will ensure that my orders are carried out.”

“And you would do me harm then when I decide that your orders do not concern me?” Grandon replied.

Leisu had to think for a moment.
The only thing that his master had been more adamant about than Grandon not being spotted was that no harm was to come to him. He looked down for a moment then quickly met Grandon’s gaze again.

“No, we would
n’t harm you, but–”

“Well, it
’s settled then,” Grandon interrupted, “I’ll take a short stroll around the docks when we land and nothing more.” He smiled at Leisu and walked back the way he’d come, leaving the Jongurian more perplexed and frustrated than ever. He was a great warrior who’d proved himself countless times during the war with Adjuria. He’d struck down men in battle that were far greater than this puny Adjurian. But what could he do? While he would have killed any lesser man, and even some greater, for talking to him like that, there was little he could do to punish, discipline, or even scold the former king. Leisu gritted his teeth and returned to the bow to watch their progress toward the island.

The sun was not yet halfway through the sky when they made it to Nanbo Island and turned west to reach Weiling, located on the
island’s far western point. Several small fishing boats crowded around the rocky shores with nets spread out and long poles fastened to their decks, the lines cast out and trailing into the water around them. Few of the men and women looked up at their approach and even fewer seemed to show them any interest. Good, Leisu thought, there’s nothing here for them to concern themselves with. Most of these people’s lives had changed very little over the previous centuries. When war had come between the two mighty nations they were unaffected, and Leisu doubted they cared who called himself emperor in Fujing, and would little notice when their country proclaimed a new ruler in a few months time.

It did
n’t take them long to see the tall buildings of Weiling rise from the rocks ahead of them. It wasn’t so much the buildings which were tall, few were more than one storey and only a couple actually had a second storey, but the cliffs which rose high from the water. As those cliffs opened and grew inward the ship turned, heading into the small bay that took up one side of Weiling and was the reason for its existence. Their speed slowed with the raising of sails, but with the ship’s momentum and the push of the tide they were able to glide into an open spot along the nearly deserted docks and piers. The crewmen of the ship threw out their lines to men waiting on the docks and soon they were tied up and secure. Leisu gave the order for their goods to be unloaded and new provisions to be taken on, then looked around for Grandon. He still had some words to say to the man about his planned trip around the town.

He found him standing on the railing overlooking the men from the pier
who were securing a gangplank to the ship. Several of them looked and pointed at the Adjurian in their midst, so much so that more gawking was being carried out than any actual work. Leisu approached and barked a few quick words in Jongurian and the men scrambled back to their task. Grandon didn’t so much as turn to acknowledge his approach.

“It’s really not much,” he said as he continued to look down at the men.
“From all of the importance applied to trade over the years, I assumed that Weiling would be a bustling port city. Now here I find it’s nothing more than a few ramshackle huts dotting the waterfront.”

Leisu grinned despite himself, but quickly regained his composure, happy for once that Grandon had a tendency to never look who he was talking to.
“No, it’s not much, and never really was,” he admitted.

“So then why build all the docks and piers?” Grandon asked.
“There must be enough space for twenty or thirty ships in this small bay, and dock space for twice that.”

“From what I’ve heard, before the war the goods from the Adjurian ships were unloaded and just as quickly reloaded onto Jongurian ships.
Before the Adjurians could get out of the harbor with their return goods, we would already have our ships halfway to Bindao.”

Grandon scoffed.
“I doubt that.”

“Trade has always been highly valued in Jonguria,” Leisu continued, unperturbed by Grandon’s disbelief.
“Much of my country derived its livelihood from the goods that could be shipped to Weiling and then to Adjuria. And the goods that we received in return were highly sought after. People didn’t want to wait long for them to reach the mainland.” Leisu stretched his arms out toward the town. “That’s why you see few buildings. There was never any need for warehouses to store the goods that were brought over. The ships acted as the warehouses, and no goods were held for long in their holds.”

“If it was so important for the goods to get to the mainland,” Grandon said, “then why even bother with Nanbo at all?
Why not have the ships head directly to Bindao, or even a port city on the northern coast?”

“I agree, but that was a decision made by an emperor long ago and carried out until the war disrupted all commerce.”

“So why haven’t you tried to start up trade again?” Grandon asked, looking at Leisu for a change.

“I could ask the same of you,” Leisu replied.
“There have been no overtures to Jonguria since the war ended twenty years ago. And unfortunately in some things we Jongurians are a very stubborn people. Trade is one of them. We won’t come to you asking for trade, but instead wait until you’re ready to come to us.”

Grandon laughed.
“That sounds like a recipe for disaster to me. Look around you. This town, if you can even call it that, has obviously seen better days. How it has hung on without trade for two decades is beyond me.” He straightened up and looked at Leisu. “If I were you, I’d prepare a ship for Adjuria and tell them you want, no, need, to trade again.”

Leisu smiled at the man’s total lack of knowledge of his country.
He knew that however easy that seemed to the Adjurian, it could never happen. Jonguria was too proud. She was still angry over the war’s beginning twenty years before. The Adjurians had claimed that it was a Jongurian vessel which fired the first shot at an unarmed Adjurian fishing boat, but it was as absurd a notion to Leisu now as it had been to the entire country so long ago. Most had reconciled themselves to never knowing exactly how the war had begun, but begun it had, and things had never been the same. It wouldn’t do any good to get into a conversation with this former king about that, however, so Leisu simply smiled at the man’s comment.

Both stood at the rail watching the barrels of fish being unloaded and the crates of provisions being carried aboard for a moment before Grandon spoke
again.

“So I’d like to take my first step on Jongurian soil now, if that
’s alright with you and your master.”

“I’ve told you how my master feels about that,” Leisu replied.
Having thought over the man’s words as they came into the harbor Leisu had realized that there was little he could do to control this man who’d been, and still seemed to be, so used to controlling others. He sighed and looked at Grandon, who perked up at the attention.

“But you are right, sir.
There is very little that I can do to stop you. I think it is a mistake for you to leave the ship before we reach Bindao, and the protection that city will afford you under my master’s control, but you are free now from your island prison, and thus able to do as you please.” Grandon gave a slight smile and nodded and began to move toward the gangplank before Leisu’s hand shot out to hold his arm. “But I advise you,” he continued in a hushed tone, “be careful and keep out of sight as much as you can. It wouldn’t do to have word spread that an Adjurian fitting the description of the False King Grandon Fray was spotted in Weiling.”

“I doubt that anyone would recognize me here,” Grandon said, brushing Leisu’s hand out of the way and continuing off the ship.

“You never know,” Leisu said quietly to himself as Grandon moved down the gangplank and onto the pier. “You never know.”

EIGHTEEN

The voyage went fast
and each day saw favorable winds and clear skies. Edgyn’s seven crewmen’s actions in handling the ship were deft and efficient, and the
Comely Maiden
moved through the seas with a grace and ease that saw them well away from the sight of land on their first day out of Dockside. The second and third days followed a similar routine of tedium for the men. They arose from their bunks early and had a bland breakfast of oatcakes, cheese, and small beer, then watched the crewmen at work. When they tired of this they could stare out at the sea around them. When that proved unbearable they could converse amongst themselves, but with little external stimuli on the ship, the conversations had nowhere to go and quickly fizzled out. In the end each man was left to find a comfortable place on the ship to spend alone with his thoughts.

Bryn had taken to asking numerous questions of the crewmen right off and soon knew many aspects of the ship.
Dilon told him the difference between the mainmast and the mizzenmast, Trey helped him name off all of the sails on the ship, and Conn even helped him calculate the speed of the ship using a long rope with several knots tied into it. After Fess saw him staring up into yards and rigging of the masts, he convinced Bryn to climb up to the top with him. It was slow going after he’d gone up a dozen feet and made the mistake of looking down at the swaying deck and the waves crashing about it underneath, but he’d somehow marshaled his courage and pressed on. Soon they made it to the crosstrees, and then it was just a few more feet up to the very top. Fess showed him how to twist the ropes around his hands and feet so that he’d be secure, and Bryn had found his new favorite spot on the ship. Before he headed back down to his other duties, Fess handed Bryn a small metal spyglass, telling him he could use it to see further on the horizon, maybe even spotting land if he stayed up long enough. He stayed up for hours after that watching the distant horizon through the glass before Halam finally shouted up at him to come down and eat dinner.

On the third day they spotted land.
Jal was the first to see it from his spot up in the rigging, and he called down to them on the deck.

“Land ho
!”

They all rushed to the port side railing to have a look, but could see little at that point.
Bryn climbed up the mast to have a look for himself, but it wasn’t really anything special, he decided, and soon climbed down. It was already late in the day and the sun was about to go down when the call was made, so the men resigned themselves to getting their first look at the Jongurian coast on the morrow. For many it would be their return to a land they’d only known ravaged by war and which had changed their lives entirely.

Dawn saw the fourth day as bright and clear as the previous three, but now instead of ocean on all sides, they had land on one.
Edgyn had the ship skirting the coast half a dozen leagues out. To Bryn it looked much the same as the land they’d left behind; there were green hills and what looked to be darker green trees. He still couldn’t make out much at their distance, even when he climbed up top.

On the fifth day they saw a large river draining into the ocean from the coast, and Edgyn informed them that they were passing the Xishui River, the first of two massive rivers which drained out of the Xishan Mountains on parallel paths through the grasslands of southern Ximen province.
Bryn asked how he knew all of these different names, and Edgyn just laughed. He had several maps, both on paper and in his head, from making the voyage countless times during the war and before when he traded. On the morrow they’d pass by the mouth of the Dongshui River as they got closer to land.

Edgyn was true to his word, and early on the sixth morning out they passed the river and prepared to step onto dry land once again.
They would reach Nanbo Island sometime that afternoon and would sail into the southern port city of Weiling where in the past the Adjurian trading ships had unloaded their goods and taken on Jongurian goods for the journey back. The men were still uncertain as to how their reception would be. Over the past two days they’d spotted several large fishing boats off the southern Jongurian coast, but none had attempted to flag them down or send a message. Many had been ahead of them and could have made it back to Ximen or Pudong provinces with news of an Adjurian sailing ship off the southern coast. The men were therefore certain that news had reached Weiling as to their approach.

The southern coast began to recede inland as they continued on their course, and in the afternoon a small speck appeared on the horizon, their first glimpse of Nanbo Island.
As they got closer they saw several of the same single-masted fishing boats plying the waters off the island that they’d seen over the previous days on the southern coast. Again, none made any move to intervene on their approach to the island, and as they got closer it didn’t seem the people on the boats paid them much attention at all.

The island grew larger as the afternoon wore on, going from a speck to a sizeable mass of land ahead of them.
The island was shaped like an arrowhead whose tip pointed west, Edgyn told him, and Bryn could see the resemblance as they got closer. The sharp, rocky tip of the island tapered off on both sides and spread outward as they neared. They headed south and Bryn saw that the island was almost completely made of rock. There were some gnarled, wind-whipped trees sprouting on the few areas of dirt scattered about, but mostly it was jagged black and brown rocks. They ran right down to the sea and Bryn saw no way that a ship, or even a small boat, could possible make an approach.

As the island widened, however, they found themselves approaching a small bay where several of the fishing boats they
’d seen were anchored. The rocks still came right down to the water but there were long docks and piers constructed to lessen any danger.  Wooden buildings were constructed close to the piers, but Bryn couldn’t see much of anything behind them due to their height above the ship. The rocks fell steeply into the bay, and while the docks were lashed together right on the water, the piers were supported by tall wooden pilings, some of which were at least a dozen feet tall. They led to wooden staircases set against the rocks which led up another dozen feet to the buildings. Like the piers in Dockside, wooden wheel-turned cranes stood about, derelict and abandoned from lack of use. No trees or any other signs of life besides the people on the fishing boats could be seen in the desolate landscape.

Upon their entrance into the bay, several of the smaller fishing boats threw out oars and unfurled sails, quickly moving to get out of the larger ship’s path.
Edgyn had called for the two large mainsails to be brought down and tied to the masts when they approached the island, and now it was just the smaller topsails filled with wind that guided them into port. Edgyn pointed to a spot next to the only other large ship tied up along one of the piers and they steered toward it. They made a slow approach, and several men came out onto it to assist them.

Bryn had never seen a Jongurian before.
Where the Adjurians were light of skin and had fairer complexions, these men had a darker skin tone as if they had spent considerable time in the sun. Their hair was all black and their eyes were smaller and slanted downward at the outer edges. They were smaller, having thinner arms and legs, but also less fat, and seemed shorter to Bryn than the average height of men back home, standing no taller than shoulder-height to an Adjurian.

Five of them caught the lines thrown to them by Edgyn’s crewmen and tied up the ship to metal rings fastened to the wooden pier.
Edgyn told Sam to take down the sails and inspect the ship, making sure it was in top shape for their voyage back to Adjuria. Next he walked over to the railing where the Jongurians now stood silently staring at them. He spoke a few sentences in a language Bryn couldn’t understand, and two of the men ran off toward the buildings set higher up on the rocks.

“I’ve told them that we’re here to see an imperial representative,” Edgyn
informed them all.

“I didn’t know that you spoke Jongurian,” Rodden said.

“It helps when you trade with them,” Edgyn smiled. “A difficult language to pick up, that’s for sure, but well worth the effort.” He looked at the other men. “How many of you can speak it?”

“I do,” Pader answered, looking at the others.

“I picked up some during my time in Bindao,” Halam said, “but I can’t carry on a decent conversation.”

“How about the rest of you?” Edgyn asked, looking at Willem, Iago, and Millen.

They all shook their heads.

“Well, it’s no matter.
One of us can carry on the negotiations while the other translates. Most of the time in the past the imperial representatives spoke Adjurian, although they may be a rusty after all these years, but then so am I.”

One of the men that had delivered Edgyn’s message returned and motioned for them to step onto the pier.
“Come,” he said in Adjurian as he waved his arm at them to step off the boat.