The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1) (11 page)

He glanced at his colt’s sire as Sullyan vaulted lightly into the saddle. At twelve years old, Drum was in his prime and a magnificent specimen of male horseflesh. He was huge, strongly-muscled, sleek and fit; his coal-black coat sparkled in the frosty daylight and his silken mane flowed over his arched and graceful neck. Sullyan saw Tad’s admiring look and grinned as she gave the order to move out.

They rode down the track leading toward the ridge, their mounts’ hooves crunching through a crust of snow. It was bitterly cold and they had all brought their thick sheepskin-lined combat jackets as well as their heavy oiled leather riding cloaks. The journey to the garrison wouldn’t take them long, but they still had the ride to the fishing village and then a sea voyage to endure.

Neither Tad nor Cal had ever been in a boat and Sullyan wasn’t sure they were looking forward to the experience. They had asked Jay’el what to expect and the young seaman had regaled them with horror stories about winter voyages on freezing, stormy seas. Fortunately, they eventually recognized the gleam of mischief in Jay’el’s eyes and an impromptu wrestling bout ensued. Tad had redeemed his honor by winning.

They reached the ridgeline, their favored place for making the crossing into Andaryon, and Sullyan quested for contact with Lord-General Anjer. His permission for her short appearance on Andaryan soil was a formality, but she had too much respect for her adopted father to flaunt rules she herself had recommended. As she broke the contact she turned to the younger of her two companions.

“Journeyman, will you construct the tunnel for us?”

Tad was daydreaming and took a moment to collect his wits. “What? Oh … yes, of course, Colonel.”

Sullyan smiled as she watched Tad center his concentration and attune himself to his psyche. He should have been prepared; she had already warned both men she would not be doing all the metaphysical work on this trip. Tad hadn’t been on so many missions like this that he was inured to the novelty. He would do well enough. Once she had sprung a few surprises on him, he would learn to stay alert.

She watched critically as he formed the trans-Veil construct. As a Journeyman, Tad possessed insufficient strength and skill to determine the opening of the Andaryan end of the tunnel, but for this crossing it didn’t matter. It was the second crossing that counted, and she would add her own strength to Tad’s for that one. She examined the structure once Tad anchored it.

“What do you think, Captain?”

She saw Tad’s satisfaction when Cal was just as startled to be asked his opinion. Cal covered his surprise better than the younger man and studied the tunnel with a practiced eye.

“Looks strong enough to me, Colonel.”

She smiled and bade him prove his confidence by riding through first. He nudged his stallion and passed along the shimmering structure, knowing Tad was proficient in this now and there was no danger of the tunnel collapsing. Sullyan’s question was intended to sharpen them up, not imply any lack of faith.

She followed him through and Tad brought up the rear, collapsing the structure behind him. He received her approving nod and turned to repeat the process. This time, Sullyan overlaid her psyche with his and he had to contain himself firmly as he experienced the momentary disorientation such profound depths of power always caused in those of lesser rank. His developing psyche had a long way to go before it matched the complexities of a Senior Master’s.

Through the blossoming structure they saw the snow-covered hillside that was their destination. Sullyan knew the garrison nestled at the foot of those hills, sheltered by them from the worst of the weather. The three companions rode swiftly through the tunnel, emerging once more onto Albian soil.

They were now hundreds of miles north of the capital and the weather was harsher than in Albia’s more temperate regions. The snow was deeper and it was frozen solid. The horses’ weight broke the surface, but it had been frozen for so long they only sank up to their fetlocks. The three riders pulled their cloaks even tighter and expended a little power to keep warm. Sullyan nudged Drum into the lead and led them in the direction of the garrison. They came within sight of the small outpost an hour before midday.

Sullyan was gratified to see the sentries were alert even in this poor weather. She heard the horn call that attended their sighting, and a guard awaited them as they rode up to the gates.

The little garrison consisted of a few stone buildings huddled against the hillside, with stabling and storage barns carved into the face of the hill itself. The whole enclave was surrounded by a stout wooden palisade wall, breached by a single gate. The outpost was manned by only twenty men, relieved every four weeks by their fellows, all of whom were drawn from local villages. The duty captain came forward to give his name and greet his unexpected visitors.

Sullyan swung down from Drum and threw back her heavy cloak to reveal her rank insignia. She introduced herself and her companions. The captain was a rough-looking fellow in his late forties, with silvering brown hair and shrewd green eyes. Those eyes stretched wide when she spoke her name and he accorded her a very respectful salute, although his expression betrayed anxiety over the reasons for her coming.

“Colonel Sullyan, you are very welcome here, but I confess I’m surprised to see you. We had no foreknowledge of your visit. Is there some problem in the area? I’ve had no word of any unrest …”

“Be easy, Captain Giel. It is not trouble that brings us here and we will not trespass upon your hospitality. We are bound for the island housing the Order of the Wheel and will trouble you only for directions to the fishing village that services the needs of the clerics.”

Giel’s expression intensified, but then cleared. “Ah, would this be in response to the message sent by Patrio Ruvar to the King?”

“That is correct. The King wishes me to speak to the Patrio concerning the circumstances surrounding the traitor’s death. I take it there have been no sightings of his body along the coast?”

“None, Colonel, and I’ve had my lads scouring the shores daily ever since we heard of the Baron’s suicide. We’ll not find him now, though. The tides will have swept him right out to sea. They’re fearsome fast round here in winter.”

Sullyan nodded. “All we need then are directions to the fishing village, if you would be so good.”

“I’ll send one of the lads to show you the way,” offered Giel, but Sullyan shook her head.

“Thank you, but we cannot wait for you to detail one of your men. We need to reach the village quickly. I wish to be on the island by nightfall.”

Giel’s eyes widened. “Tonight? I’m afraid that’s not possible, Colonel. There won’t be any craft left in the village. They’ll have gone out at dawn to make the most of the light and the tide. And besides, there’s no wind. It’s a good two-hour sail even with the tide and a breeze in your favor. You’ll have to spend the night in the village and catch the early tide with one of the fishermen. You’ll have ample time to take one of my lads as guide.”

“The arrangements for our crossing are my concern, Captain,” she said. “Just tell us the way, if you please.”

Giel capitulated, although it was clear he expected her to find things as he’d said. He pointed out the road to the village, which was simple enough, and they rode away from the garrison, Giel watching from the palisade wall.

Tad and Cal hadn’t ventured an opinion while she was speaking with Giel, but she had seen their puzzled glances. Now Cal nudged his horse closer to Drum and caught her eye.

“Colonel, how are we going to reach the island if there’re no boats and no wind?”

She smiled. “We are going to a fishing village. There will always be boats, no matter how many are out at sea. As for the wind, I am sure there will be a suitable sea breeze when we want one.”

She left them pondering her intentions as she led them on toward the coast.

They came out of the hills and onto the coast road within the hour. Sullyan led the way up the final rise, and as they topped the slope they saw a good chunk of Albia’s northwestern shoreline laid out before them.

To their right, wind-whipped dunes dotted with clumps of sea grass curled and humped their way down to the sea. To their left, their view of Serna Bay was blocked as sand yielded to rock and cliff until a jutting headland could just be made out far in the distance. A narrow track wound its way along the top of the cliffs.

They sat savoring the freezing briny air and listening to the raucous calls of seabirds. Then they turned left and set their mounts’ feet to the track along the cliff top. After half a mile or so, they reached a fork. A well-trodden path led a switchback course down through the cliffs, and this they took. It brought them out onto a wide strand of shingle at the foot of the cliffs, and there before them was the village.

It was a picturesque scene. Stone-built cottages and storage sheds nestled into the base of the cliff face. Gray shale slates covered the roofs and fronted some of the houses. The rest were painted white. The village took advantage of a shallow natural bay to the north of the headland, and the villagers had built jetties out into the water, anchoring them to boulders which had fallen from the cliff face over time. Farther out, adding its own protection from the worst of the winter storms, the tips of a reef curled around, leaving a natural passage through to the open sea. A few small craft sat moored to the jetties, but none of them were manned and the entire village seemed deserted.

Sullyan nudged Drum and made for the nearest house, the door of which opened before she reached it. A thick-waisted woman stood in the doorway, a small girl clasping her skirts, peering out from behind at the three cloaked strangers. The woman eyed Sullyan suspiciously.

“What do you want?”

Sullyan ignored her flat tone. “We are here on King’s business, Goodwife. We need to reach the cleric’s island. Is there anyone here who can help us?”

An expression of scorn entered the woman’s eyes. “You’ll not get there today. All the men are out.”

“
All
of them?” challenged Sullyan, her tone hard.

The woman narrowed her gaze. “Old Jeriko’s around somewhere, for all the good he’ll do you. You’ll probably find him in the net shed.” She nodded to the ramshackle cluster of buildings and sheds at the far end of the village.

“We thank you,” said Sullyan, turning away as the woman disappeared behind her door. Shaking her head at the manners of fishwives, Sullyan nudged Drum toward the sheds. There was a stout railing nearby and she indicated they should dismount and tie their steeds to the rail. Cal and Tad followed her inside the shed, peering into the interior gloom. They could just make out the bent figure of an elderly man sitting on an upturned lobster pot, sorting through what looked like a hopeless tangle of netting. There were two piles of it at his feet and both piles looked identically useless and ragged.

The man glanced up as they entered the shed. “Who’re you?”

“Are you Jeriko?” Sullyan asked.

“Aye. What’s it to you?”

“We need a boat. We are here at the King’s orders and we need to reach the cleric’s island by nightfall.”

The seamed face creased as the old man parted his lips in a gap-toothed smile. “Ha! I can tell you know nothin’ of the sea, m’lass. Firstly, there’s no one here to take you, and second, there’s not a breath of wind, nor won’t be till tomorrow.”

She held his gaze. “We need no one to take us, thank you, and the wind will be sufficient for our needs. Just tell us which boat we can use.”

Contempt curled Jeriko’s lip. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“I heard you, my friend. Did you not hear
me
? There is an eighteen-foot sloop moored at the end of the jetty which looks suitable for our needs. We will leave this gold to pay for her hire. Will you pass it on to her owner?”

Sullyan held out a small handful of gold bits toward the old man, who transferred his stare to her hand. “That’s my boat,” he said slowly, “but I don’t go as far as the island these days. Besides, King’s business or no, there’s still no wind!”

Sullyan simply smiled and laid the gold on the table. “You are not required to sail the boat. I can do that for myself. I believe the island is visible from just off the coast. What transit marks do we aim for?”

The old man scooped the gold bits into his weathered palm. They could almost see his thoughts. It was as much as his little craft was worth, and if she was determined to go, what trouble was that to him?

“Very well,” he said, “but don’t say as I didn’t warn you. Someone’ll doubtless tow you back in on the evening tide. You sail northwest out past the entrance to the reef, bear away from the headland directly north, and when you come abreast of the red patch on the cliff face and the beacon fire above you, bear due west out to sea. You’ll see the tip of the island in the distance. Best of luck, you’ll need it.”

“Is there a barn where we can leave the horses?” she asked, thankful to have gained his compliance. Receiving his permission to leave the horses in the neighboring shed and his assurances he’d watch over them, she detailed Tad to see to their comfort whilst she and Cal took their packs and walked down the rickety jetty toward their craft.

It was a sturdy clinker-built sloop, with a square-shaped mainsail and a small headsail. With neither Cal nor Tad having any knowledge of sailing, this small craft should be stable yet light enough for them to handle under Sullyan’s direction. She tossed their packs into the prow of the small ship and bade Cal embark.

He nearly lost his footing as he gingerly entered the boat. “It’s rocking!” he yelped, clutching wildly at the gunwales, which set the craft to yawing even more.

“Stand still, Cal,” she laughed. “You are on the water, what did you expect? Move slowly and carefully and keep to the center, then you will be more stable. Sit on that bench there, in the stern. You will be our steersman.”

Cal groped his cautious way to the bench and sat gratefully, eyeing the length of bouncing craft with a jaundiced eye. Sullyan stepped aboard and loosened the ties holding the mainsail furled along the boom.