Voyage of the Fox Rider (14 page)

Aravan fell silent, and Jinnarin stared deeply into her tiny thimble goblet and swirled the wine and swirled it. Long moments passed, and sleeping Rux chased fleeing field mice in his dreams, his paws lightly scrabbling on the stateroom floor. At last Jinnarin looked up at Aravan.

“What wouldst thou have it be, Jinnarin?” softly asked the Elf.

With trepidation in her voice, she replied, “It goes against ten thousand years of practice, yet what you say bears much weight. If they will pledge to you and to me, then I agree—you must share all…for I would find Farrix.”

Alamar who had been silent throughout held up his glass. “Pour me another, Friend Aravan, this calls for a celebration.”

Aravan splashed a dollop of dark wine into each goblet. “Here’s to the success of our mission, may we find what we seek,” he said, raising his glass.

Jinnarin hoisted her thimble and added but a single word: “Farrix.”

Alamar simply gulped his drink down.

Seven days later the
Eroean
’s crew returned by boat from the docks, trickling in by threes and fours, an occasional loner now and then. Many were comatose from too much celebration and were carried aboard by groaning shipmates, Bokar among the oblivious, borne over Jatu’s shoulder like a half-filled sack of grain. As Aravan leaned over the railing and looked down at them, the huge black Man smiled, white teeth flashing from ear to ear as he stepped from the dinghy and clambered up the gangway ladder, Bokar limp as a rag. “Coming aboard, Captain,” Jatu announced, “bearing a gift from the ladies of the Red Slipper, though it’s worn to a frazzle, I ween.”

Aravan laughed aloud, then called back, “Aye, Jatu, that I can see, though I’ll warrant that each of thee did thy best to return the favor, neh?”

“Aye, Captain, that we did, that we did indeed…and though we failed to wear them out, wear them thin we did.”

As Jatu stepped onto the deck, Aravan said, “Well, Jatu, after thou pour him into his bunk, come see me. I have a tale to tell thee.”

Jatu glanced at Aravan and then beyond to the far stern, where he could see an eld Man leaning over the taffrail and peering down at the dock dinghies ferrying the
Eroean
’s crew back to the ship. The black giant raised an eyebrow at Aravan, an unspoken question on his lips, but only enigmatic blue Elven eyes looked back at him and Jatu could fathom no answer within.

The day wore on, crew haling in from Port Arbalin, Women coming down to the docks to see their sailors or warriors off, lovers exchanging tender embraces and weeping farewells, acquaintances laughing raucously and slapping their companions on the back. By sundown the last of the crew was aboard.

As darkness fell, Jatu, Frizian, Reydeau, Rico, and
even Bokar were all assembled in the captain’s salon, and a meeting was held lasting into the late hours. When Tink tried to serve tea, he was met at the door by Bokar, the Dwarf looking draggled and worse for wear. He took the tray from Tink but did not let him within. Even so, the cabin boy caught a glimpse of the old Man in the blue robes, and,
waugh!
“…I saw a fox, too!”

“Ar, go on wi’ ye, Tink. Wot would a fox be doin’ on th’
Eroean?
”

“I dunno, Tiv, but it was a fox all right. Mayhap it has something to do with the old Man in blue.”

Tivir just shook his head in disbelief, and Tink shot him a warning glance, then said, “Well, fox or not, Tiv, keep y’r mouth trap shut. What goes on in the Cap’n’s quarters is for him to say and not us.”

“‘At goes wi’out sayin’, Tink. Goes wi’out sayin’.”

And just ere mid of night in the moonless dark the
Eroean
slipped her mooring and sailed away from Port Arbalin.

Bright dawn found the Elvenship well away from Arbalin Isle and in the open sea, a fair wind abaft. But then Jatu had her wear around the wind until her sails luffed in the air, her headway stilled, to the puzzlement of the crew. Then all were summoned to deck, and rumors and speculation flew. And amid the murmur and rumble, Captain Aravan stepped from the aft quarters and made his way to the bo’s’ns’ cabin, where he clambered up to the roof and called for silence. A hush quickly fell till all that was heard was the plash of wave and the creak of rigging and the loose flap of Elven-silk sail.

“Sailors and Warriors, Men and Drimm, draw close, for I have something to say to ye.”

Dwarves and Men alike shuffled forward, be-ringing the cabin. When all were gathered, Aravan held up his hand and again silence fell.

“Mates, I call ye ‘round to speak of the mission I would have us fare upon.”

“What it be, Capitan,” called a hearty voice, “a lost city, treasure, a tèmpio di òro, che?”

Aravan grinned, his eye lighting upon the Man. “Vido, none of what you say. Neither lost cities nor lost treasures
nor temples of gold. Instead we look for a lost person, one who has mysteriously disappeared. One who saved the life of our guest here”—Aravan turned and gestured toward the aft quarters, and a blue-robed, white-haired elder stepped forth—“Alamar the Mage.”

A gasp of indrawn air was heard, and whispers of
Mage
and
Magic
and
Wonder
murmured among the crew as Alamar came forward to stand where all could see him, sailors and warriors giving way to make a corridor for him to pass through.

Aravan’s voice called to them, reclaiming their attention. “As far as any know, there are no riches waiting for us at the end of this venture, except the knowledge of a task well done. We know not even where the mission will take us, nor whether the journey will be dull or sharp along the way. All we know is that Alamar’s friend is missing, but whether he is lost, captured, or wandering free, I cannot say.

“Yet if he is lost, then it’s to make him found again. If he is captured, then it’s a-rescuing we go. If he is wandering free, then perhaps we follow nought but a wild goose.”

“Ar,” shouted someone, “when did that ever stop us, Cap’n?”

A roar of laughter washed over the decks.

“Ha, Lobbie,” called out another, “ye be right: ne’re did the chasing of a wild goose e’er slow us adown.”

Aravan let the laughter run its course, then said, “Ah, but it is in the chasing itself where the venture lies.” And he was answered by a general clamor of agreement.

Now Aravan knelt on one knee. “This then is the mission: whether it be into danger, woe, or boredom we sail, our goal is to find and if necessary to rescue Alamar’s friend.”

Sailors and warriors alike looked at one another and shrugged. Finally, one—Lobbie it was—called out, “Hoy, Cap’n, why ask any o’ us? I mean, wot’s so special about this mission, other than it—no disrespect, Master Alamar—other than it bein’ a friend o’ a Mage? Let’s just get on wi’ it.” A rumble of agreement rose up from Man and Dwarf alike.

Leaping to his feet, Aravan held up his hand. “There is one thing special concerning this mission, and that is
I would have ye all swear two oaths of secrecy: one to me, and the other to someone else.”

Oath? Of secrecy? ¿Que? Someone else? Wot’s all this then?
voices murmured, whispers hissing ‘round the bo’s’ns’ cabin.

“The oath I ask is that no matter what ye see, hear, or do on this mission, that ye will tell no one of what befalls. Tongues are to be held in spite of drink, in spite of the need to win glory in the eyes of thy lovers, mates, friends, family, or anyone else. Tongues are to be held at all cost.”

“Even in the face of death, Captain?”

“E’en so, Artus.”

“How about in the face o’ torture?” called someone else.

Before Aravan could answer this last question, Boder called out. “Cap’n, what if someone does not wish to take the oath? Then what?”

A murmur washed over the assembly, and stilled immediately when Aravan answered. “Boder, for those who do not wish to take the oath, we will sail hence to Hovenkeep and off load them, be it one or many. And when the mission is done, we will return and take back on board those who wish to sail the
Eroean
once more, for ye are a fine crew and I would gladly have ye back.”

“Pah!”
exploded Bokar, turning to Aravan, the Dwarf calling out so that all could hear. “It is as I said last night: this oath is no different from that which we took when first we came aboard the
Eroean
long past—our oath to keep the secrets for her making locked away forever. And I say that we Châkka, one and all, will take on this new oath as well. And neither torture, drink, death, fever, nor aught else will pry words from our lips concerning this seeking of the missing one.”

As of one voice the Dwarven warriors proclaimed,
Châkka aun!

“Ar Bokar, ‘e’s right, ‘e is, Cap’n,” called out Trench, the cook, “this ain’t no different. I’ll take y’r oath! I’ll take y’r two oaths, solemn and all! Who’ll join me?” And the big Man dropped to his knees and clenched his right fist to his heart.

An uproar of agreement met Trench’s words, and all
the Men and Dwarves dropped to their knees and clasped fists to breasts.

“This then is the first oath, the one to me,” cried Aravan, on his own knees, fist to heart, “that no matter what befalls…”

No matter what befalls
…intoned the crew.

“I swear by all I hold sacred…”

I swear by all I hold sacred
…

“On my honor and my life…”

On my honor and my life
…

“And by High Adon, Himself…”

And by High Adon, Himself
…

“That no word of this mission shall ever pass my lips…”

That no word of this mission shall ever pass my lips
…

“No matter what befalls.”

No matter what befalls
.

Aravan then stood. “Ye may speak freely aboard this ship, and under secrecy seal and guard when alone with others who took the oath here today, but none else shall ever hear of this.”

Aye!
shouted all, and then they stood once again, turning to the Mage and waiting.

The elder looked nonplused for a moment, then he called, “Oh, it’s not to me that you will swear the second oath of secrecy. Nay, but to another instead.”

Bewildered, Men and Dwarves looked to one another and then to Aravan, a rumble of puzzlement rising up among them.

Aravan smiled, as did Jatu, and the Elf nodded to the black Man. Jatu stepped to the aft cabin door, opening it. And Aravan extended his hand, welcoming forth the one within, and he called out for all to hear, “Sailors and Warriors, I give you the true one behind this mission: the Lady Jinnarin!”

Morning light glanced across the Elvenship decks, the diamond bright rays a saffron yellow. And into this golden aura stepped a fox, red with black legs. And upon the fox’s back rode a tiny maiden dressed all in grey leather, a bow ‘cross her shoulders, arrows in a quiver fastened to her hip. And through the early morn she came, blue-eyed and pale, her hair mouse brown and loose and falling ‘round her shoulders. And only the
swash of water against the hull sounded in that moment, for it is not certain that anyone even breathed.

Through the light and across the deck she came, Men and Dwarves parting before her in awe, Jatu pacing behind. And when she reached the bo’s’ns’ cabin, Jatu knelt and held out a hand, and she swung her leg across Rux’s back and stepped into Jatu’s palm. He lifted her to the roof and then raised Rux up after. And she leapt astride the fox once more.

And all the while none said aught, for they were struck dumb with wonder. Yet in that moment Aravan sprang down and turned to face her and called aloud, “Hail to the Lady Jinnarin!”

A mighty roar rang up to the sky, pent hearts and souls released at last—
Hail to the Lady Jinnarin! Hail! Hail! Hail!
—Rux standing as still as a statue during the hue and cry.

Dwarves and Men alike pressed forward to see this wonder, and Jinnarin glanced at Alamar—the Mage making a palm-down, stay-calm gesture.

Jinnarin took a deep breath and raised her chin and dismounted and walked about the brim of the bo’s’ns’ roof so all could see. Then she stopped on the forward edge, there above Aravan, and waited for the crew to swing ‘round and stand before her. And when all had assembled in front, she said in her clear voice, “Now you see why you are sworn to secrecy, for I am a Hidden One and one of the People. I am a Fox Rider.