The Southern Trail (Book 4) (29 page)

He gathered together stones for a fire ring, and filled the ring with small, dry sticks for tinder.  He checked to make sure that the other two were paying no attention to him, then pulled the glove off his right hand, and made a spark flare from one of his golden fingertips, setting a smoking, small tongue of fire aflame.  Once the glove was again covering his hand, he fanned the beginnings of the fire, added some larger tinder, then sat back.

“The fire’s going,” Marco stated the obvious as he stepped back from the fire.  He looked over to where his two companions sat together.

“Come join us Marco,” Ellersbine urged, patting a spot on the driftwood where she sat.

He complied, grateful for the friendly request, even though he knew that the princess was friendly under the spell of the spring water.

He sat down close to her, their legs touching, and he felt a thrill of happiness when she smiled at him.

“So, we don’t know where we are, and we don’t know where we’re going, and we don’t know when we’ll get there?” Argen asked.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so carefree!”

Marco smiled at the man’s unbridled pleasantness.  If Argen could continually drink from the spring, he would be a man with many friends, Marco thought to himself.  He could drink the water for a longer time, Marco realized, if they had filled a water skin at the spring.  The result of the thought was a sigh of regret about the opportunity squandered.

They sat around the fire and talked, as the burning wood settled into a pile of coals that became a red glow while time passed.  After a while Marco made assignments for their watch duties, and they turned in.

They walked for the next five days, making progress along the river route, fording one deep stream that joined the river on their side of the river.  The conversations were light and friendly, and they all stuck to the pace that Marco set for them.  Marco listened to the lilt of Ellersbine’s voice, and he admired the sparkle in her eyes and the bloom in her cheeks, and he knew that he was increasingly, hopelessly infatuated with the girl.  On their seventh day of following the river they found that the trail grew wider, and moved up away from the river bank to follow the widening waterway at a greater distance.

“We’re approaching a town, aren’t we?” Argen asked as the character of the trail became more of a road.

“I’d say so,” Marco agreed.  A half hour later they say a cabin sitting atop a knoll.

“A house!  That means we’ve reached people!” Ellersbine shouted with delight.

“We can have a cooked meal!” Argen said exultantly.

“And a bath!  We can take baths!” Ellersbine chimed in.  “You two are nice fellows, but you’d be so much more pleasant to be with if you were clean.”

“And who’s to say the same doesn’t apply to you?” Argen retorted.

“Not me!” Ellersbine laughed.  “To think that six months ago I wouldn’t have been happy if I didn’t have at least two perfumes to choose from, and now I just want clean water to wash in.”

With such bright spirits they hastened their journey even more, and by late afternoon, as they walked, hot and sweaty in the sunshine, they saw a small city arise on the horizon as they approached.

The city was set at the confluence of two tributaries, and the resulting joining of the waters produced a waterway deep enough for shallow boats to sail on, as evidenced by the wooden docks that sprouted from the city into the water.

There was a wooden palisade around the settlement to provide a sense of security.  Marco and his companions stepped onto a wooden bridge that spanned one of the rivers to reach the city, and they discussed their next steps as they walked across the rough cut planks.

“What should we do now to get to Foulata?” Marco asked.

“We can go to the local governor or military commander and they should provide us with transportation to the capital,” Argen replied.

“Where are we?” Ellersbine asked.

“I would say we’re at the very end of the empire’s control, but I don’t know where specifically,” Argen answered as they arrived at the gate to the city.   There was only one gate apparent for traffic in and out of the palisade wall, and it faced towards the docks and warehouses along the river bank.

“Is there a governor’s office in the city?” Argen asked one of the guards who stood and passively watched the flow of people in and out of the gate.

“In the middle of the city, facing the square,” the man replied.  “Just go straight ahead.”

“Is there a hotel?” Ellersbine asked.

“There’re a half dozen inns,” the guard said.  “Depending on what you’re looking for, the Doxie has the best entertainment, and the Restful has the best food,” he grinned.

“Which one is the cleanest?” Ellersbine asked primly.

“I couldn’t tell you that,” the guard answered, clearly not interested in any further conversation on the subject.

The settlement they were in was named Bunda, and the governor of Bunda refused to believe that a princess, a count, and a soldier had walked into the settlement from the empty savannah.

“Your story is preposterous.  I will not waste my men’s time or my budget on you.  Go try to bamboozle someone else,” he summarily dismissed them when they managed to wheedle their way into his office for an audience.

“Now what do we do?” Argen asked, astounded by the unexpected rejection.

“Let’s go see what are chances are at the docks.  Maybe we can get a ride on a ship heading to a bigger city,” Marco suggested.

“Any city we get to has to be bigger than Bunda,” Argen said.  “What members of the aristocracy have estates in this region?” he asked Ellersbine.

“I don’t know anyone who comes to court from this far away,” she replied as they walked through the streets to the docks.

There were several flatboats on the river, and from the crews they learned that the boats were planning to float down to Tabora, a larger, regional capital.

“Crassten is a baron near Tabora,” Ellersbine said.

“Not one you could trust,” Argen answered.  “I know I’ve had dealings with the man, and he can’t be trusted.”

“But if we get there, all we need is for him to help us get to Foulata,” Marco pointed out.  “We’re not asking for anything else.”

“We’ll see,” Argen replied in a dubious tone.  “He may be the best option.  But first we have to get there.”

“I think I can get us on a fast ship to Tabora,” Marco said confidently.  “Let’s go talk to a few captains,” he suggested.

And so, for the next four hours, the threesome visited and dickered with a dozen ship captains, innkeepers, and dry goods store owners while Marco engaged in a lengthy process of bartering goods and services with a variety of partners to put together the items he needed for their departure from the outpost city.

“You can give the ship captain a powder that will make the breezes blow the ship’s sails?” Ellersbine asked.

“Yes, but it’s going to take me a couple of days to get everything gathered together to do it,” Marco explained.

“So we’re staying and eating here tonight because you’re going to give the innkeeper a powder that will kill bugs?” Argen asked as they ate from their bowls of vegetable and mutton stew.  “Where will you get the powder?”

“He’s going to get the powder from the dry goods store, or he’ll get the ingredients to make the bug killer from there, right?” Ellersbine answered.

“What does he use to pay the store keeper?” Argen asked.

“I’m going to treat the storekeeper’s children for the croup,” Marco replied.  “I need to get over to his place right now, as a matter of fact,” he said as he scooped the last of the stew from his bowl and drank from his mug of ale.  He stood up to leave.

“Can I come with you?” Ellersbine asked suddenly.  “I’d love to see you treat the children.”

Marco looked at her in surprise.  “I thought you’d want to stay here and take a bath.”

“I can do that tomorrow, since we’re going to be here for a couple of days,” Ellersbine answered blithely.

“And how are you going to make the powder for the ship?” Argen asked as they started to walk away.

“I’ll use the dry goods and the dead bugs to make the powder,” Marco grinned.  “Anything else?”

“No, I guess that makes sense.  Good luck with the kids.  I‘m going to go find out what a mattress feels like again!” Argen waved them away.

“The air is so much fresher out here,” Ellersbine said with relief as they left the inn’s dining room and stepped into the street.

“But it’d be even fresher out in the wilderness where we’ve been,” Marco said as he wrinkled his nose at a pile of horse dung they passed by.

“I thought the last few days of our time in the wilderness were idyllic,” Ellersbine answered.

Marco stopped, and turned to look at her.

“I’m serious!” the girl said.  “I had two wonderful men around me at all times, the weather was delightful, and I feel fitter than I have ever felt in my life!  Walking all those miles every day made my body function better than I’ve ever known it could,” she gushed.

“We could go treat the kids, then walk out the gate and go back into the wilderness,” Marco said drily as they started walking again.

“Oh, that’s silly,” Ellersbine laughed, and Marco thought her laughter sounded musical in the purity of spirit it contained.  He wished again that he had managed to carry a container of the water away from the spring, so that he could extend the friendliness and the high spirits that contributed to the way that the girl captivated him.  He was pleased that she was walking with him through the streets of the city, and he felt a thrill of enchantment when she didn’t hesitate to hold onto his arm to steady herself as she stepped over a pothole in the roadway.

“Here’s the shop.  The man told me the entrance to his apartment was at the top of the stairs in the back,” Marco said, as they turned down an alley, then climbed a set of stairs and knocked on a door.

They could hear children coughing inside, and then the door opened, and a harried looking woman stood in the doorway, holding a sick child.

“Are you the healer my husband sent?” she asked.

“Who is it honey?” they heard the voice of the store owner from inside.

“I’m the one,” Marco said.  “Here, let me hold this one,” he reached out and relieved the mother of the youngster, a girl around two years of age, Marco guessed as he cradled the child in his right arm.

“Is there someplace private we can take the child to tend to her?” he asked.

“Come through here, and you can go up the steps and out on the roof, if you like,” the woman said, as the shopkeeper came into view in the kitchen.

“So you really came?  I didn’t expect to see you.  And you brought the girl?”  the man asked.

“Show them the steps up to the roof,” the mother told her husband.

“What for?” he asked.

“Because your healer said he wanted some place to treat our children, that’s what for!” she snapped at him.  “And we don’t have any spare room here in the apartment.

“This way, come this way,” the man answered compliantly.

They could hear another child coughing in a far room, as the man led them to a door and opened it.  Revealed behind the door was a stairway so steep and with treads so shallow as to be more of a ladder than a set of steps.

“Go up and push the trap back,” the man instructed.

Marco struggled up the steps, the hacking baby in one arm, while the other arm held onto the steps ahead and then pushed the hatch overhead to the side, so that he could climb out onto the nearly flat surface of wooden shingles.  He found a place to sit, then settled down and pulled his glove off his golden left hand.

“This is how you’re going to treat the child?  I remember you letting me suck on your finger when we were on the ship and it was sinking,” Ellersbine said.

“Your hand!  Look at it – it’s golden!” she marveled, as the child grew silent while it sipped the water from Marco’s proffered finger.

Ellersbine looked from the shiny finger in the child’s mouth up to Marco’s face, and her eyes studied his.  “Your hand wasn’t golden on the ship.  I remember that.

“Is that why you’ve been wearing that glove all this time that we’ve been traveling?” she asked, and she watched him nod in affirmation.

The child gave a whimper, and stopped drinking the spring water Marco provided.  It looked up at him with bright eyes that studied his face closely, then it coughed, and took another drink.

“Here, you hold the baby, and I’ll go get the other one,” Marco told Ellersbine, maneuvering the child over to her.  He pulled the glove back on, then went downstairs, and returned with the second, younger, child as well, coughing and squalling in its misery. 

They sat beside one another, and Marco started giving the spring water to the baby boy he held.

“Is your right hand golden now too?  Or did you just wear the glove on that hand to match the glove on your left hand?” Ellersbine asked, though she did not look at him as she spoke.

In response, Marco shifted the baby slightly, then pulled the glove off to allow the moonlight to shine off both hands.

“Are you a sorcerer?”   Ellersbine asked.  “Is that why we’re still alive today, after all the catastrophes we’ve faced?

“Are you the mighty sorcerer who is fighting against Docleatae?  The one who defeated Iamblichus in Athens?” she turned to face him as she finished the last question, and Marco saw that her eyes were great pools of mysterious darkness in the cold evening light from the moon, with tiny white reflections of the light reflecting off his own hands providing the only interruption in the darkness below her brows.

“Ellersbine, I have tried to be good to you and take care of you ever since I first saw you,” Marco began to answer.

“Tell me, simply tell me, are you the Golden Hand, the sorcerer of death?” she interrupted.

Marco bowed his head and looked down at the two infants they held.  He feared to tell her the truth, but he couldn’t lie.  He switched his finger from the child in his arms to the child she held.

“I am the Golden Hand.  I did kill Iamblichus,” Marco answered.  “I don’t want you…” he started to say, only to be interrupted by the girl at his side.