Voyage of the Fox Rider (15 page)

“I am the stuff of some of your legends, the stuff of your fables and lore. Should word of my existence become common knowledge, dire consequences will befall my Folk. We are named Hidden Ones for good reason, and Hidden Ones would we remain.

“We go to find Farrix, who is my mate. He is missing, yet I believe that somehow his fate is entwined with that of a black ship and a pale green sea and a crystal castle above. And that is why I came to you, for no finer crew of sailors and warriors exists in all the world, and no ship is better than the one on which you serve. This I know: wherever sails the black ship, wherever lies the pale green sea, wherever stands the crystal castle, you of the
Eroean
will find them. And whatever challenges we may face along the way, none shall stay this crew.
And should events dictate that we need rescue my Farrix, you are more than fit to take on any hazard and win through, for you are the very best.

“Your splendid Captain Aravan has asked you to swear a double oath: one to him and one to me, for I am a Hidden One and I need your worthy pledge.”

Without a word, all Dwarves and Men sank to both knees, Aravan as well, and each one there clenched both fists over his heart. Tears brimmed Jinnarin’s eyes at this display. Emotion filled her voice as she said, “Yet we go to find Farrix, another Hidden One, and so would I have you double-lock your oath and swear by his name to remain silent in all that befalls—”

—But no one there kneeling on the deck had ever known Farrix, had ever seen him, while before them stood a soul from legend, a wondrous person they could see and hear and even touch, and so they called out instead:
For the Lady Jinnarin!
—

And Alamar nodded and signalled to the Pysk that this pledge was even better.

And so Jinnarin stood as her name rang through the air.

…But at last she held up her hands, and as quiet returned she gestured for all to rise, and when the crew was on its feet again, she called out, “I do hope when all this is said and done that if you inadvertently shout out my name at a time or place where it should not be heard, that you will simply attribute it to a ship or a childhood sweetheart”—then she turned and gestured at Rux—“or even to a little”—her voice dropped to a loud whisper heard by all—“to a little dog.”

A roar of laughter greeted her, and another round of cheering burst forth—
To the Lady Jinnarin!

“Sail ho, Captain,” cried Frizian, “two points off the bow!”

“Bring her about, Rico,” ordered Aravan. “Jatu, retrieve the Lady Jinnarin.”

As Rico piped the crew, Men scattering to the ropes to hale the crossbeams around for the sails to catch the morning wind, First Officer Jatu reached up and took Rux down from the cabin roof, the fox remaining unexpectedly calm at being handled. Jatu reached up again, this time lowering the Pysk to the deck. Jinnarin mounted
the fox, and they dodged and darted among the running crewmen, agile Rux weaving his way back to the aft quarters.

“Splendid,” said waiting Alamar, once she was inside the captain’s salon.

“Oh, Alamar, my knees were knocking. All of those Men. Those Dwarves. And I standing before them all, in the open, for everyone to see. Me, a Hidden One.…
Pah!
some Hidden One, eh?”

“Nevertheless, Jinnarin, you did well.”

Jinnarin set her bow aside and then turned to the Mage. “Well, I suppose, as you say, I
did
do all right.”

“Don’t get uppity, Pysk!” snapped Alamar.

Jinnarin’s mouth flew open and then—

The aft quarters door swung inward and Aravan entered, followed by Tink, the two coming down the short passageway and into the salon. The Elven captain smiled. “‘Tis an Arbalina trader, the ship astern and falling away now that we’ve come about.”

“Can’t nothin’ in all o’ the seas catch the cap’n’s lady,” added Tink, proudly.

Alamar cleared his throat. “Speaking of all of the seas, where are we bound, Aravan? Have you decided?”

Aravan turned to the Pysk. “Jinnarin, I would ask thee this: did any other Hidden Ones in Darda Glain see these—these auroral plumes?”

Jinnarin shook her head. “No, Aravan. Farrix, you see, had the keenest of Feyan eyes.”

Aravan pursed his lips. “That was not the answer I had hoped for.” Momentarily he fell into thought, then asked, “Thou hast special sight?”

Jinnarin shrugged. “Perhaps you would say so, though it does not seem special to me.”

“How so?”

“Well, Aravan, given even a glimmer of light, we see quite well.”

Tink nodded as if he had always known. “Fairy sight,” he muttered.

Alamar grunted. “Better than Elven eyes, Aravan, for even a star here and there seems enough for the Pysks, whereas you Elves need more—clear starlight or moonlight. Aye, Pysk sight is nearly as good as magesight…and sometimes even better.”

Aravan turned to the elder. “Magesight?”

Alamar turned up a palm. “We need no light at all. Of course, it takes a casting. Too, we cannot see very far in total darkness even with magesight.”

“Special sight or not,” said Jinnarin, “what does it have to do with where we are bound? And where
are
we bound, Aravan, have you decided?”

Aravan leaned his hands upon the table. “Aye,” he answered. “When we’ve cleared the Avagon, then it’s west northwest across the Weston Ocean, all the way to the coastal waters of the western continent, for there I would land and seek out Tarquin.”

Jinnarin’s eyes widened. “Tarquin? Why Tarquin?”

“Because, Jinnarin, I believe that we should return to the place where Farrix was last known to have been. Yet, I would not do so until again the northern aurora is in the sky and mayhap plumes falling into the ocean nigh Rwn. But heed, even if plumes do fall, they will not do so until winter is upon us. In the meanwhile, I would visit Tarquin to speak with him and discover whether other Pysk eyes have seen the lights come down in places elsewhere. If not, then mayhap Farrix is chasing an illusion; but if others have seen these plumes, then mayhap Farrix chases a strange will-o’-the-wisp all about the Weston Ocean. Yet the Weston Ocean is a wide water, and I would think to narrow the search. If other Pysk eyes have seen the plumes, then mayhap they can aid us in locating precisely where Farrix may be. And Tarquin may hold the answer.

“Too, there is always the chance that Tarquin might know of a black ship or a crystal castle or of a pale green sea.”

Straits

Late Summer—Early Autumn, 1E9574

[The Present]

F
lying all of her silken sails, rapidly the
Eroean
drew away from the Arbalina trader aft, the wind abaft impelling the swift Elvenship through the waters of the Avagon Sea. Southwesterly she sped, running a course parallel to but standing far out from the rugged coast of Hoven, that Realm lying some leagues beyond the distant horizon. Toward the Kistanian Straits she fared, there where the Rovers plied, pirates from the Isle of Kistan. Their maroon-sailed ships roamed through the narrows both north and south of that wild Land, for the great equatorial island itself stood in the way between the Avagon Sea and the Weston Ocean. Across the channel to the north of Kistan lay the Realms of Vancha and Tugal, while beyond the long curving seaway to the south arced the wide Land of Hyree. And toward these dangerous waters coursed the Elvenship, aiming for the northern channel, more strictured but more direct.

But these hazardous narrows yet lay some six or seven days away, and Bokar and his Dwarven warriors used the time to ready the ship for combat should it come. The ballistas were tested, casting missiles out and away, both spear-shafts and fireballs arcing far over the water, splashing or fizzing into the waves. The ballista deck mounts were cleaned and greased, the swivels rotating free.

In addition to refurbishing the great arbalests, each
corvus was refurbished as well, pivots lubricated, claws sharpened, rail-clamp screws cleansed and oiled.

Throughout it all, shy Jinnarin watched from afar, Bokar glimpsing her from the corner of his eye. Finally the armsmaster turned toward her and motioned her to come and see. Somewhat timidly she approached, Rux following. When she came near—“Would you like a tour, Lady Jinnarin?”

Her smile was his answer.

“Good!” Bokar took up his winged-helm and strapped it on, as if showing Jinnarin the ship’s armament were somehow an official act.

Bokar and Jinnarin strolled along the deck, the Dwarf stopping now and again to explain some point concerning the conduct of combat aboard the Elvenship.

“There are ten ballistas aboard: two each in the bow and stern, starboard and larboard alike, whose main intent is to cover wide arcs to the fore and aft, though they can protect abeam as well. The remaining six are uniformly spaced along the flanks of the
Eroean
, three to a side. Each ballista is capable of flinging fire or stone or spear, all that need be decided is which to hurl—a javelin flung from the groove, or a ball from the cup…some afire, others not.”

Jinnarin strained her neck upward, trying to see. “How do you cock it, Bokar?”

“My Lady, if you will permit me,” rumbled the Dwarf, and before she could say yea or nay, Jinnarin was lifted to Bokar’s shoulder. “Hold onto my helm strap,” he said. “That or my hair.”

Jinnarin grasped the metal cheek guard, the dark steel cool to the touch. Then she watched as Bokar pointed out the mechanisms of the great arbalest: “Here be the crank by which it is wound, and this the slide on which rides the cup or propels the javelin. When the slide comes back to here, these teeth along the side trap the trigger catchment during the winding, the rail cogs a precaution in the event that the winder loses his grip. Here be the trigger. When she is cocked and armed and aimed, then pulling this cord looses her. Handled by two or three Châkka, a giant crossbow, you might call her, like the ones my warriors bear; the arbalests are slower winding of course, though much more deadly at range.”

Jinnarin giggled. “I was just thinking, Bokar, this bow makes mine look as would a toothpick next to an immense tree.”

Bokar smiled. “Ah but, my Lady Jinnarin, your bow looks as a toothpick, regardless.”

“Oh but, my Armsmaster Bokar, that depends upon the size of the teeth, neh?”

A deep belly laugh and a birdlike trill rang across the decks of the
Eroean
.

At dusk the wind began to shift about, and by next morn it was blowing northeasterly, clouds piling up in the skies, great swells rolling over the waters. Driving rains came with the noon hour, cold and wind whipped. The studding sails were taken in, but all others remained flying as the
Eroean
tacked into the lash.

Below deck in an aft cabin given over to the Pysk and the Mage, the ship’s carpenter, Finch, crawled back from his handiwork. “There you be, Miss Jinnarin, all done up safe and sound, and a pretty job of it, too, even if I do say so myself.” Although the Man spoke to Jinnarin, his shy eyes looked everywhere but directly at her.

“The little panel under your bunk, it swings both ways, letting you and your fox in and out of the passageway beyond whenever you want. These little dogs, well twist them thisaway to latch the hatch shut should the sea want to enter, and I’ve seen it try, rushing down the corridor outside.

“And once I fasten this wood in place—” Finch mounted three wide, tongue-in-groove boards across the openings left behind when the under-bunk drawers had been removed, tapping in slender brass nails to hold them in place. “Right. Now you’ve got your own little closed-off Lady’s chamber there under the bunk for the privacy you might want, with its own door opening in and out, and another door into this here cabin. And cor, who could use it but you?”

Finch got to his feet. “But as to light, well, I should think a wax taper’ll have to do, and I’ve made these dogged ports out here and in there for ventilation, wot?

“Arlo the sailmaker is making you a bed…out of soft blankets. One for your fox, too.

“And as to your personal needs”—Finch blushed furiously—“to
wash yourself and to relieve yourself, Carly the cooper and Rolly the tinsmith is working on that very thing right even as we speak, though I be going now to help them.”

Jinnarin smiled up at the large, humble Man. “Oh, thank you, Mister Finch. Rux and I will cherish what you have done for us. And”—the Pysk swiftly stepped into the tiny chamber under the bunk and then back out again—“and my private room is simply perfect for any and all my needs.”

Finch shuffled his feet and touched his cap, then turned and rushed from the cabin.

Before the day was done, the sailmaker, carpenter, cooper, and tinsmith delivered to Jinnarin the things needed to furnish her “cabin,” all newmade to her stature: bedding for her and Rux; a wee brass candlestick holder, with a striker and straight shavings tipped in pitch and several spare tapers; a small washstand and diminutive tin basin, with a tiny tin pitcher for water; a miniature sea chest for her clothing; and a wee commode chair with a tiny privy pot and lid.

As all four Men stood about, holding their hats and grinning, Jinnarin
ooh
ed and
ahh
ed, saying, “Why, this is better than I have at home.”