City of Jade

20

ELVENSHIP

MID AUTUMN, 6E1

In the Captain’s Lounge, Long Tom stood beside Aravan at the map table with Aylis at his other side. Nikolai and Brekk and Dokan stood across the board. Tiny Lissa sat atop the table and sipped tea from a thimble-sized mug, as Noddy poured a cup for Aylis.

“Where we be bound, Cap’n?” asked Long Tom.

Aravan stabbed a finger down to the chart. “Here.”

As Lissa got to her feet and strolled across the tabletop to see, all looked, Noddy included, at where the captain’s finger touched the map.

A great strew of specks and dots and irregular loops were scattered across where Aravan pointed, his finger resting upon one of the larger shapes.

“Oi see,” said Long Tom. “One o’ th’ Ten Thousand Isles o’ Mordain, eh?”

“What be we after, Kapitan?” asked Nikolai.

“White tea,” replied Aravan.

Lissa frowned. “White tea?”

Aylis smiled. “Very young tea leaves plucked from the tips of the plant. ’Tis a delicate flavor, much savored in the halls of Caer Pendwyr, or so it was long past.”

“It still is, my love,” said Aravan. “ ’Twill bring a fine price for the crew.” He glanced at Long Tom and Nikolai and added, “More than enough for all the warband and crew, e’en those who sat idle for many long moons.”

An offended look crossed Long Tom’s face and he spluttered, “Sittin’ oidle, Cap’n? Sittin’ oidle? Oi’ll have you know we was trianin’ ’n’ piantin’ ’n’-”

Aravan burst out laughing, as did Nikolai, and Long Tom frowned from one to the other, and then a look of enlightenment crossed his face. “Ah. Oi see. You was havin’ me on, naow, roight? Wull, y’got me good ’n’ well, y’did. Y’got me good ’n’ well.”

There came a soft knock on the door, and Tarley stepped into the lounge. “Captain, we’re entering the Avagon, sir, and leaving the cove behind.”

They turned on a westerly run and aimed for the distant outlet into the Weston Ocean, those waters lying some twenty-nine hundred nautical miles away as a gull would fly, but farther than that on the course the ship would run, all depending upon the wind, which blew toward the northwest at the moment, and so close-hauled the Eroean would fare.

Still the Elvenship was at long last at sea, and throughout the day and until well after sunset much of the crew remained adeck. And as night grew deeper, the crew not on watch was reluctant to bed down, for they were at sea again and reveling in the fact.

And the Avagon herself put on a show for them, for streaming shoals of phosphorescent fish painted the water with light to glimmer within the reflections of the myriad stars above.

That night, for the first time in more than seven thousand years, Aravan and Aylis slept in the captain’s quarters aboard the Eroean at sea. And they made gentle love and whispered dear words to one another, for they were home at last.

In her own quarters, Lissa and Vex slept well, the Pysk taking up residence in the tiny cabin made long past for her mother, Jinnarin, by four of the Eroean ’s crew: Finch and Carly and Arlo and Rolly-carpenter, sailmaker, cooper, and tinsmith. Several times throughout the millennia, Jinnarin had told Lissa of the kindness of these men. .

Belowdecks in an aft cabin given over to Jinnarin and Mage Alamar, Finch crawled back from his handiwork, ship’s carpenter that he was. “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.

“That little bulkhead panel under Alamar’s 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 this-away 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-and-groove boards across the openings left behind when the right-side pair of underbunk drawers had been removed, and he tapped 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 of the passageway, 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 very own personal needs”-Finch blushed furiously-“to wash yourself and to relieve yourself, Carly the cooper and Rolly the tinsmith be 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 carpenter, sailmaker, cooper, and tinsmith delivered to Jinnarin the things needed to furnish her wee “cabin,” all new-made to her stature: bedding for her and Rux; a tiny brass candle-stick holder, with a striker and straight shavings tipped in pitch and several spare tapers; a small washstand and diminutive tin basin, with a petite tin pitcher for water; a miniature sea chest for her clothing; and a tiny commode chair with a tin 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.”

Finch removed one of the boards of her chamber wall. “Now you arrange it like as you want it, Miss Jinnarin, and I’ll fix it so as it won’t slide about in a big blow, wot?”

And over the next few nights, Men and Dwarves alike came to look down the passageway, hoping to see the glow of candlelight shining out through the wee window of the Lady Jinnarin’s cabin. This was especially true of Finch and Carly and Arlo and Rolly, even though they knew that she had Fairy sight and probably didn’t need the candles; still, she might burn them just to please the crew. And burn them she did, the soft yellow taperlight glimmering, and the four men would look at one another and grin and nod; at other times the tiny portal would be dark, and they would sigh. But always they would go away marveling over their Pysk.

Rux quickly adapted to his new door, ingress and egress to his den, where his mistress also happened to live. Even so, still he spent much time belowdecks hunting, though his take for the day was one or two at most, for the fox found the ratting and mousing on the Eroean to be slim pickings when compared to that other ship he had been on. Throughout the full of the Eroean roamed Rux, becoming a familiar sight to the crew. From keelson to hold to crew’s quarters, from lower deck to locker, from the tiller wheel on the stern to its mate in the sheltered wheelhouse forward of the aft quarters, from bow to bilge ranged the fox. The fact that his hunting ground pitched and rolled and yawed, and canted starboard or larboard depending on the wind, seemed of no consequence to Rux. The only things that mattered at this juncture were rats and mice and exploring.

And now Jinnarin’s daughter, Aylissa, occupied these same quarters-she and Vex, that is-under what was now Nikolai’s bunk. And like as not over the days and months ahead the crew would come on any excuse to the corridor outside to see if candlelight glowed out from the tiny dogged port to see if their very own Pysk was at home.

Nine days later, they stood in the bow at the base of the stem, Aravan and Aylis and Brekk. To the south and just barely seen, like a long, dark smudge on the horizon, rose the hills of the Isle of Kistan. To the north and unseen just beyond the curve of the world lay a broad river delta marking the marge where the lands of Tugal and Vancha met. And as the hull of the Eroean sliced into the perilous waters trapped between isle to the larboard and mainland to starboard, Aravan turned to Brekk and said, “Though we enter the northern strait, until the lookouts call a sighting, the warband can be at ease.”

Even as Brekk’s gaze swept across the horizon ahead, he grunted and nodded but otherwise said nought, for he knew that Rovers roamed the seas along the path they would take.

Kistan, though an island, was roughly circular and vast, nearly a thousand miles long and eight hundred wide, and it sat in the Avagon Sea like a barely pulled cork east of the narrows where the indigo waters of the Avagon met the dark blue deeps of the Weston Ocean. And both to the north and south of this “stopper” lay straits where the Rovers plied their dhows and flew their maroon or crimson sails, those bloody colors deliberately chosen to strike terror into the hearts of the men of merchant ships.

Throughout history, Kistan had been a thorn in the High King’s side, for the pirates had plagued the shipping lanes, interrupting trade and travel. Oft had forays been sallied against these looters, the High King’s fleet bearing legions to destroy the brigands. Yet to escape the blades of the kingsmen, the Rovers merely faded back into the rugged hills and dense jungles of their enormous island refuge.

The strait to the north, down which the Eroean now sailed, formed a long throat leading in and out of the Avagon Sea, a seven-hundred-nautical-mile-long choke point, varying in width from seventy to just over eighty-five nautical miles.

On the far side of the isle the southern strait lay between Kistan and the treacherous realm of Hyree. There the channel, though just as long, was nearly twice as wide for nigh the full of its length, yet ships from the realm of Hyree plied these waters in league with the Rovers, and together they harassed that route.

West of the isle the two straits merged to form a three-hundred-fifty-nautical-mile run to the Weston Ocean, again choking down to a width of eighty-five nautical miles, and there did many of the Kistanian and Hyrinians lurk, for no matter whether ships came from north or south or went in the opposite direction, through those narrows between sea and ocean they all had to pass.

And so the Eroean did enter that perilous stretch, with some one thousand nautical miles of Rover-laden lane lying before the ship. Yet the westerly breeze was off the fore, and tacking would add nigh half again to the full of the length.

“How long will we be in these waters?” asked Brekk, never taking his gaze from the horizon.

Aravan peered down at the furl of bow-split water, then up at the foremast wind pennant above. “When last we measured we were running at some eleven knots. And so, if the wind remains braw and steady from the west, six days at most.”

Brekk barked a laugh. “Hai! Now I see why we should remain at ease, for to stand at full ready through the length of these straits would wear quite thin.” Brekk then glanced ’round at the Chakka warriors adeck in clusters nigh each of the ballistas, including the ones at hand. He sighed and said, “Time to have all stand down.”

For four days they tacked along the northern channel, and not a crimson sail did they see. Aravan leaned against the taffrail and watched Aylis at the wheel, Fat Jim pointing at the mizzen wind pennant and coaching her in helmsmanship. Aravan frowned, puzzled. “Ne’er have I gone this long without seeing any Rovers whatsoever. Where might they be?”

At his side, Long Tom shrugged, but then his features lit up. “The Dragons!” he blurted, by way of explanation.

“Dragons?” asked Lissa, the Pysk sitting atop the compass and drinking tea from a thimble.

Aravan glanced at Long Tom and nodded. “Ah, yes. Now I recall. It was old news in Arbalin, when thou and Bair and I and the crew didst return from the Great Swirl, or what was left of it, that is.”

“What was old news?” asked Lissa.

“A spring past and one, on the equinox in the High King’s year 5E1010,” said Aravan, “at the end of the Dragonstone War, the Drakes not only slew the Golden Horde and the Lakh of Hyree and the Fists of Rakka, but they burned every ship in the Argon-Kistanian, Hyrinian, even the High King’s ships. . they did not discriminate.”

“The Rovers were in the Argon?”

“Aye. ’Twas said the full of the fleet of the Rovers brought the southern invaders to face the High King’s host along the banks of the Argon, and they were yet in the river when the Dragons slew all the foe, though that slaughter took place where the Red Hills meet the plains of Valon. After that great killing, the Drakes then flew east and turned their fire against the fleets.”

Then Aravan looked at Long Tom and said, “I deem thou hast hit upon it, Tom: that’s why we’ve espied no Rovers.”

Long Tom grinned and said, “Wull, then, Cap’n, it just moight be that we get clean through th’ striats wi’out seein’ none.”

As the sun sank toward the horizon in late afternoon of the following day, “Sail ho!” came the cry from the lookout above.

“Where away and what color?” shouted Long Tom.

“Sir, a point starboard the bow. She’s lateen and scarlet.”

Long Tom turned to Noddy. “ ’Tis a Rover, lad; sound the alert.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Noddy began ringing the bell in the tattoo of warning. And in but moments the full of the crew spilled onto the decks, Chakka warriors to the ballistas, sailors to the sheets and halyards.

“ ’Nother sail ho, Tom,” cried the lookout. “This one scarlet, too.”

Aravan, along with Nikolai, came from the cabins and to the aft deck. Fat Jim puffed up after, though Wooly was manning the helm. Aylis and Aylissa, their tokko game interrupted, stood out of the way on the deck below, Vex sitting calmly at Lissa’s side in spite of the bustle all ’round. Yet Aylis held a bow in her hands, a quiver of arrows at her hip. Lissa, too, was armed, her tiny bow and arrows quite lethal, should any foe come within its limited range.

“Three, no, four crimson sails,” cried the lookout, “two-masted dhows all. And a white-sailed ship running ahead, three masts-a barque, I think. They’re after her, Tom.”

“Wi’ y’r permission, Cap’n,” said Long Tom, “Oi’ll arm th’ crew. Them fools o’ Rovers moight tiak it in’t’ their heads t’ try t’ board th’ Eroean .”

Aravan smiled and nodded his approval but said, “More likely we’ll be boarding them, Tom, yet we’ll need falchions, no matter which.”

“I be the one to see it done, Kapitan,” said Nikolai, and down the ladder he bounded.

Nikolai rounded up a handful of sailors to disappear below and emerge moments later with their arms full of falchions, the heavy and relatively short-bladed swords ideal for close-quarter, hand-to-hand fighting.

And as Nikolai and the sailors passed among the seamen and handed out cold steel, Dwarves, already armed, stood ready at the ballistas-two of the arbalests in the bow, two in the stern, and three down each side-yet they did not cock the weapons nor load any missiles.

And on hove the Eroean . .

. . and the sun sank toward the sea.

Like the silent long shadows streaming from the masts and sails and cast far to the aft of the Elvenship by the lowering sun in the west, quietly the Eroean drew nearer and nearer to the Rovers, and still the ready Dwarves waited.

And all aboard the Eroean seemed to stand stock-still with bated breath, and the only sounds aboard the ship came from the prow cutting through the indigo sea and the shssh of the wake astern as well as the creak of Elven ropes straining against pins and yards and blocks.

And as azure sails drew on toward those of crimson, Aravan softly said to the bosun, “James, very soon, when I give the command, pipe the sails for a larboard beam reach against the two aft raiders. We’ll cross their sterns and rake the decks.”

Intent on their prey ahead, the Rovers had no idea that the hunters were hunted themselves.

Word as to Aravan’s plan went whispering the length of the ship. And the Dwarves to the starboard growled in their beards at being left out of the fight, while those to the larboard at last cocked their weapons and laded on fireballs.

And the Eroean slipped unnoticed up behind the foe.

“Now!” hissed Aravan, and James piped the command.

Even as sailors hauled the yards about and slipped the sheets of the stays, of a sudden the crews aboard the two Rover ships glanced ’round and began gesticulating and scurrying, their shouts loud over the water, as the Kistanian crews, their faces stark with fear, had finally realized the peril they were in.

Hard over the Rovers hauled the long lateen spars, yet it was entirely too late, and fire sailed o’er the span between the Elvenship and the deck of the first raider, flaming balls to explode across the decks and splash upon rigging and masts and sails and set all ablaze. Swiftly, the larboard ballistas were again cocked and, as the Elvenship crossed the heel of the second raider, five more fireballs were flung. And then the Eroean was past this pair and Aravan ordered the sails piped about to run down the other two dhows.

And as the bow veered close to the wind, a single fireball from one of the Rovers flew across the distance to fall short and sink with nought but a splash and the sputter of a fuse extinguished.

And leaving the two Rovers battling against blaze-their masts, sails, and decks afire-the Eroean now sped toward the remaining Rovers, whose prey fled just beyond.

And the sun lipped the horizon and began sinking into the sea.

On sped the Elvenship, closing the distance between. Yet, given the hullabaloo aft, the Rover captains had spotted the Eroean . And they shouted orders, and Rover crews haled on the lines of the lateen-rigged ships, and they heeled over to flee away southward toward the haven of Kistan, for few captains of the island nation dared take on Aravan’s ship.

“Shall I pipe the sails, Captain?” asked James.

“Nay, bosun,” said Aravan. “We’ll let these two take flight with their rudders tucked under their keels.”

Long Tom sighed, but said nought, while Nikolai snorted and headed to the decks to gather a crew to take up the no-longer-needed falchions. He passed Brekk as the Dwarf came storming up to the afterdeck. “Captain, you are my commander, but are we just going to let them run? If so, I mislike it a deal.”

Aravan looked at his Dwarven warband leader. “Armsmaster, wouldst thou hie after a snake were it fleeing into the dark?”

Brekk shook his head. “Nay, I would not. Yet if it were an Ukh, I would run it to earth and slay it.”

“This is no Rupt, Brekk.”

“Nay, it is not, Captain, but the difference is mere, like one chip of bad stone to another.”

“Yet thou dost know, Brekk, stones come in many kinds and forms-whereas some can be shaped, others crumble at a touch.”

“You, an Elf, try to teach a Chak about stone?”

“Nay, Brekk, for I know thy kind are masters of such.”

“Then what is your point, Captain?”

“Just this, Armsmaster: whereas Rutcha were made in the spirit of Gyphon, hence are incapable of change, Humans are malleable and can alter their behavior-for good or ill, I admit. Yet, heed: mayhap yon Rovers, though now like unto fleeing snakes, perhaps are frightened enough to give up their vile ways, for unlike vipers and Spaunen, Humans can indeed change. Yet, Brekk, I promise thee this: I have marked them well, and should either of those same ships be plying these lanes when we return, then will we hunt them down, day or night, and slay them to the last man.”

The armsmaster growled and glared at the crimson sails of the fleeing pair of ships. “Mayhap were it a lethal viper, I would slay it on the spot to prevent it from even the possibility of striking an innocent victim. I think these poisonous Rovers deserve the same fate, for unlike the snakes of which you speak, the brigands seek out the blameless to do them harm.”

Aravan nodded. “There is much to what thou dost say, Brekk. Mayhap I have made a mistake after all. Yet there is a ship to the fore that needs our help to gain the ocean beyond.”

Brekk grunted and gave a single sharp nod, for at last did he see Aravan’s true aim, and on plied the Eroean westerly as crimson-sailed Rovers fled southward.

Swiftly, the Elvenship overtook the three-masted barque as twilight overtook the world. As the Eroean eased up sails and hove alongside that ship, Aravan called out to the captain opposite, “We’ll run ahead and clear the channel.”

“Captain Aravan, is it, of the Eroean ?” called the merchant commander in reply.

Noddy snorted and muttered, “J’st who bloody else moight we be?”

“Aye, I be Aravan.”

“Well I thank ye, Captain Aravan. I be Captain Allson of the Gray Petrel out of Gelen. Though an escort we would take gratefully, we were headed east for Arbalin when we spotted the brigands.”

“Then come about, Captain Allson. The northern channel was clear when we sailed through. And I suspect you won’t be bothered by those particular Rovers again. As for us, we’re sailing west, and won’t be back for many a day.”

“Very well, Captain Aravan,” called Allson. “The channel west was also clear when we came through. And, Captain, if you are ever in Lindor, I’ll stand you and all of your crew to a fine meal and a drink.”

“We’ll take you up on that, Captain,” replied Aravan; then he signaled James, and the bosun piped the orders to tighten up sails again, and the Eroean drew away from the Petrel , as that ship came about to head east once more.

And, as the nighttide drew down over the world and stars began to appear one by one in the darkening skies above, west sailed the Elvenship, while aft sailed the barque toward the glimmering light of two burning ships that would never ply the seas again.