The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (26 page)

“Are vessels often sunk?” Darryl enquired.

“No.” Dromon replied. “But when this happens, a local overseer, appointed by the Dark Priests, sends a gang of men to raise the sunken craft and charge the full cost of the operation to the owners of the lost vessel. Aye, many a thriving merchant has been rendered poor by such a disaster.”

The boatmaster smiled. “Then I must take care when I’m standing watch at the tiller and make sure that no incompetent fool takes charge of the steering in my absence.”

The day wore on and rain began to falling in torrents. In late afternoon Wilakin was helped back into the cockpit of the boat and pointed towards the safe village that he had spoken of earlier. Under the pilot’s direction, the boatmaster put the tiller over and gently steered the craft towards the left hand bank of the river where there was little movement from the current.

A quarter of a mile ahead of them was a small settlement occupying a high artificially constructed mound that reared up sharply from the water’s edge dominating the surrounding territory. At its base was a small quay, whose riverward approaches were protected by a squat tower mounting a pair of very lethal looking missile casting engines.

Darryl was a little surprised by the sight and he turned to the pilot.

“Wilakin, I was led to believe that no military preparations where allowed close to the Life River, on the direct orders of the ‘Priests of the Ancient Lore’ who administer this great waterway?”

“Aye, that is generally the case.” The river-pilot answered. “Any Prince holding sway over a portion of the riverside lands would risk heavy punishment if he sought to gain control over the waterway itself. Yet, the Dark Priests allow some of the riverside villages to establish ‘Night Harbours’as we call them. Here vessels plying their legitimate trade on the river can lie in perfect safety during the hours of darkness and their crews do not run the risk of having their throats cut by river-pirates while they sleep.”

“Why do the Dark Priests tolerate the existence of these bloody freebooters?” Darryl asked, without taking his eyes from the quay that was now looming large before the narrowboat’s bow.

Wilakin replied with a bitter laugh.

“Why master, the pirates are like the weeds that grow in a Thoa plantation, the more you cut them down, the more they multiply! However, the priests occasionally order a Prince or Chieftain to wipe out the pirates within his domain. Less frequently, the priests order the ‘Overseers of the river’ the officials who are charged with the day-to-day running of the great waterway, to hire mercenaries and carry out the task themselves.

Perhaps once in a man’s lifetime, a group of pirate families will become overconfident and combine to conquer a riverside district. On those rare occasions, the priests will conjure up a sickness known as the ‘The Shaking Death’and the miscreants will perish to a man. But much of the time, the pirates are simply ignored by the authorities.”

Asmalltowing boat, propelled by six oarsmen, put out from the quay and shepherded the ‘Bonny Barbara’ into a vacant berth and the vessel was soon securely roped to her mooring.

“My wounds pain me still.” The pilot said as he struggled towards the door of the narrowboat’s cabin. “So my suggestion is that I remain aboard with two guards for company, whilst the remainder of you spend the night ashore as the paying guests of the villagers”. He nodded towards one of the temporary crewmen. “Dromon here knows the village well and will be a competent guide in my absence. A word of advice, arm yourselves, for weapons are a mark of personal esteem in these riverside communities, and take plenty of discs of low denomination with you, for you will certainly need them!”

The shore party stepped onto the quay and took stock of their surroundings. The quay itself was constructed from blocks of stone and balks of rough hewn timber and was surfaced with a layer of compacted clay that was now becoming slippery due to the falling rain. A number guard fires burned upon the quay and they provided warmth and comfort for the village sentries who patrolled the landing and protected the numerous visiting craft throughout the hours of darkness.

The light was now fading fast. Even so, the newcomers were clearly able to define the nature of the mound upon which the village stood, for huge blocks of masonry lay heaped upon one another, and it was immediately obvious they where viewing the collapsed remains of one of the huge buildings constructed by that long extinct race known as the “Ancient Dead.”

The little group ascended the mound until they reached a well protected village occupying its slopes. Near to the first of the huts, they were met by a jovial looking man bearing a copper-tipped stick, which, Dromon informed them, was the emblem of office of a village council member.

“Two lead discs each!” The man said, shaking the leather moneybag that hung from his belt. “Two lead discs is the price of a nights’ accommodation inside the communal barracks. It costs three lead discs to sleep in a private hut!”

On Dromon’s advice, they each paid over the sum of three lead discs and the party was conducted to a spacious hut where a number of clean beds were laid ready for use. A young girl, who could not have been aged more than three cycles, attended them and presented Myra with a posy of blue flowers.

“Perhaps my mistress wishes to enjoy a steam-bath?” She said, clutching at the hem of the wisewoman’s dress. “Only one small disc to have your aches and pains soothed away by the hot vapour; but with no immodesty” She quickly added, “for we have separate cubicles for both men and women.”

Dromon threw his padded tunic onto one of the beds.

“I have a yearning that must have come from the Gods,” he said, as he turned to face the newcomers. “I suggest that we all agree with the child’s offer without further delay for a steam bath in this village is an experience not to be missed.”

The party stripped of their outer garments, stacked their weapons and left them in charge of a crewman who agreed to bathe later, then followed the child to a nearby garden where the bathing establishment was situated.

A row of cubicles occupied one end of the garden and in front of them stood one of the strangest contraptions that any of the newcomers had ever set eyes upon; a huge iron cauldron stood upon four pillars of stone, and beneath its base their roared a wood fire that was tended by two smoke-blackened young boys. The mouth of the cauldron was hidden beneath a round wooden cover, from which odd spurts of steam were constantly escaping. From the top of the boiler there ran a number of leather pipes conveying a supply of steam to a number of nearby cubicles.

Agroup of muscular young women appeared and one of the attendantsattachedherselftoeachofthebathers.Darrylwasled into one of the cubicles and was requested to strip naked and lie prone upon a smooth wooden bench, where, every inch of his muscular body was rubbed down with handfuls of thick purple leaves producing a crimson pith. The woman attending him drew out the plug from the end of the steam-pipe allowing the hot vapour to flood into the chamber causing the temperature to rise until it was almost unbearable.The boatmaster lay upon the bench for about half an hour, whilst the woman massaged his body and wiped away the sweat and grime that his body excreted in considerable quantities. Finally, the woman concluded the ablution by washing him down with containers of ice-cold water.

Darryl moved with supple ease as the attendant led him back to the night hut where he rejoined his companions.

“Now we must eat!” Dromon said, as they adjusted their outer clothing and re-armed themselves; once they were all respectably attired, he led them to a small public square situated at the very summit of the mound.

One side of the square was completely taken up by a number of open-fronted booths, from where there drifted the appetising smell of cooking food and the irresistible aroma reminded the crewmembers that they were all extremely hungry.

“One lead disc,” shouted the proprietor of the first booth they approached.

“One disc only, for a bowl of my vegetable and narr’s meat stew. Yes, and with all the Thoa bread that you can eat!”

Dromon led the group past the first booths, to one that sported a green awning protecting the diners from the constantly pouring rain.

“Now you will sample a dish beloved of all sailors upon the Life River.” He said. “Joints of smoked do-fowl, served upon a salad of fresh water-leaf. You will have to pay no less than five discs each to obtain this delicacy, but I swear that you will not be disappointed!”

Darryl, George and Myra each paid over their lead discs and each received a broad platter containing a number of tan coloured pieces of do-fowl, served with a side-salad of water-leaf, a vegetable peculiar to this portion of the Water-Realm. The newcomers seated themselves upon a bench situated beneath the protective awning and began sampling the rather unsavoury looking concoction. Yet, despite their early reticence, they were soon digging into the contents of their platters with a will. The smoked do-fowl, they quickly discovered, had a slightly peppery flavour, but the flesh literally melted in the mouth, whilst the purple water-leaves had a sharp fresh taste that providing the perfect accompaniment to the preserved meat.

As soon as their dishes were empty, their guide conducted them to another booth where they ate bowls filled with narr’s-head stew, served with steaming dumplings made from Thoa flour and dried herbs. George, however, was still hungry and proceeded to demolish a huge bowl-full of vegetable broth and a dish of slightly astringent green berries that he demanded from the proprietor.

Once the entire group was replete with food, they made their way to a tavern standing at the head of the square and began sating their thirst with tankards of foaming Thoa-nut beer.

“That was a fine meal,” the boatmaster declared, after swallowing half a tankard of beer in one single draught. “And a man would not fare badly if he never ate worse!”

“The food in this village is very good.” Dromon agreed. “But not uncommonly so. The folk who ply the Life River are as hard-working as any within the Water-Realm, and their needs are simple. Good plain food, at a cheap price and a clean bed under a roof that doesn’t leak, aye and an occasional steam-bath to ease pain in their weary bodies”.

Dromon paused for a moment, before continuing.

“Wilakin informed me that you are newly arrived from the Northlands, as your white skins suggest, perhaps you should learn the ways and customs of the river as soon as possible.”

He pointed towards a group of roughly dressed men sitting around a table and playing a board game that had a distinct similarity to draughts.

“Those men are the crew from a stone carrying barge moored alongside the village quay for the night. Now blocks of stone are of little interest to river-pirates and the craft carrying them would certainly be bitterly defended by their crews!” Dromon emphasized the fact by pointing to the iron-spiked clubs propped against the side of the Stone-carriers table. “Stone carryingbarges can therefore tie-up for the night, almost anywhere along the river, with very little danger of attack. Yet Stone-carriers have their personal needs, like other men who dwell upon the ‘Great Life’ and they must come ashore and enjoy themselves once in a while. Night-harbours are therefore often used as places of entertainment by many people, as well as being vital sanctuaries for others!

He pointed towards a thin woman in a blue dress, who was sauntering provocatively between the tables. “Yes.” He added. “A women’s body is also available along with the food and drink, all of the pleasures of the flesh can be had for the price of five lead discs or even less, if one bargains hard enough.”

Dromon also explained that Stone-carriers had a well earned reputation for being the toughest group of sailors upon the river; yet, his sage warning arrived too late.

For George, filled with all the inquisitiveness of youth, allowed his gaze to remain over-long upon a group of game playing Stone-carriers at a nearby table.

One of the Stone-carriers a powerful looking individual with a massive barrel chest, stood up and walked across the room and confronted the young boat hand.

“Who do you think you’re staring at, you lump of Northlander narr-shit?” He growled. “Are you willing to wrestle with me, or are you going to crawl out of here lickin’the floor clean of dirt as you go?”

“Peace and good health to you my friend!” Dromon answered in a quiet tone. “The young man is new to the ways of the river and had no intention of giving offence, perhaps a round of drinks will suffice to…”