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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 7
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 4
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 10/12/1994
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Volume 7, Number 4 Circulation: 1,083
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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...I Shall Repay Max Khaytsus Yuli 25-27, 1014
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CFV: rec.mag.dargon Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
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collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
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We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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Please address all correspondance to <dargon@wonky.jjm.com>.
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Back issues are available from ftp.etext.org in pub/Zines/DargonZine.
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DargonZine 7-4, (C) Copyright October, 1994, the Dargon Project.
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Editor Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@wonky.jjm.com>. All rights reserved.
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All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories may
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not be reproduced or redistributed without the explicit permission of
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the author(s) involved, except in the case of freely reproducing entire
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issues for further distribution. Reproduction for profit is forbidden.
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========================================================================
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Editorial
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by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@wonky.jjm.com>
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"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" What better use for that
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cheesy opening line?
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It's been six years since I wrote my last editorial and shut FSFnet
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(DargonZine's predecessor) down. In the fall of 1988 I turned the
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leadership of the Dargon Project and the production of its magazine over
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to one of our best writers, John White (aka Dafydd). John has done an
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admirable job keeping the writers writing and reaching new readers. He's
|
|
put out several dozen issues totalling over 50,000 lines of text. He
|
|
deserves recognition and thanks for the effort he's put into making
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DargonZine a success.
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As he mentioned in his editorial in DargonZine 7-3, I have
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reassumed editorial responsabilities. What's that mean? Well, because
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all the Dargon Project authors collaborate on the actual job of proofing
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and critiquing stories, you shouldn't expect to see major changes in the
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content of the magazine. The job of the editor is primarily the
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production side of things: compiling and distributing issues,
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publicizing the zine, managing the infrastructure necessary for author
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collaboration, and some direction setting.
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|
There are many changes in the works on this production side. We've
|
|
developed DargonZine readers' and writers' FAQs to periodically post to
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likely Usenet newsgroups. We are hoping to set up an automated
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subscription bot, and exploring other interfaces beyond ASCII text.
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|
We're also hoping to find a site to sponsor us and provide us a
|
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permanent home and FTP site.
|
|
This issue is an example of another thing we'll be trying to get
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away from: one-story issues. In the future, there'll be more, smaller
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stories per issue, and more serialization. No more gargantuan
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single-story issues.
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We're also working to have our newsgroup, rec.mag.fsfnet, revamped.
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|
A vote is currently under way to permit us to rename the newsgroup to
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rec.mag.dargon and make it an unmoderated newsgroup, so that it can be
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used not only for distribution of issues, but for feedback and
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discussion between the readers and the writing staff. The text of the
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"Call for Votes" appears at the end of this issue; *PLEASE* take the
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time to send an email message to <voting@qualcomm.com>, with a body text
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of:
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I vote YES on rec.mag.dargon
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Then, get everyone you know to do the same. Every ballot is crucial,
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so please do whatever you can to get YES votes.
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********************************************************************
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* IMPORTANT!!! IF MORE THAN 1/3 OF THE VOTES RECEIVED ARE 'NO' *
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* VOTES, OR IF WE DON'T RECEIVE 100 MORE 'YES' VOTES THAN 'NO' *
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* VOTES, WE WON'T BE ABLE TO MAKE THIS CHANGE!!! PLEASE VOTE!! *
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********************************************************************
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In addition to the visible changes, we're also working on many
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things behind the scenes. The biggest of these is a huge database of
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Dargon's people, places, and things, that cross-references them with the
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stories in which they appear. It's quite an undertaking, but it'll be a
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priceless help for our writers, both old and new.
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Bitnet readers may notice that issues are now being delivered to
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them as email, rather than via SENDFILE or DISK DUMP. We apologize for
|
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any inconvenience, but for technical reasons I am unable to continue to
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support those file formats.
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Thanks to those of you who sent feedback regarding "Love an
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Adventure", which was printed in 7-2 and 7-3. It was the first sexually
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explicit story we have ever printed, and your comments give us better
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insight into our readership. Your continuing feedback is
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enthusiastically encouraged.
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Let me close with a familiar refrain to those of you who remember
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the days of FSFnet. DargonZine is as much your creation as it is mine or
|
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John's or the writers'. Your interest and participation are what
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|
determines whether we are successful or not. And as we prepare to
|
|
celebrate the tenth anniversary of FSFnet's first issue with a
|
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blockbuster two-issue reprint of the "Best of Dargon", we gratefully
|
|
acknowledge that you, the readers, have made FSFnet/DargonZine the
|
|
longest running electronic magazine on the Internet.
|
|
However, it is imperative that we continue to solicit new readers,
|
|
and there's a very serious need for new writers. Although we plan to
|
|
increase our visibility, it's important that you, the reader, do what
|
|
you can to help us spread the word to people who might be interested.
|
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And VOTE YES for rec.mag.dargon!!!
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|
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With that said, this issue features another story by Max Khaytsus,
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our most prolific writer in recent years. I had the pleasure of meeting
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Max and nearly all of the current Dargon writers on a road trip I took
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this spring, which was a wonderful experience. Max impressed me as
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articulate, opinionated, and very detail-oriented, and we had great fun
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terrorizing the staff and patrons of the Johnson Space Center. "...I
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Shall Repay" takes place during the war between the kingdoms of Baranur
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and Beinison, and recounts the shipboard exploits of his longstanding
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protagonist, a certain Rien Keegan...
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========================================================================
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...I Shall Repay
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by Max Khaytsus
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<khaytsus@alumni.cs.colorado.edu>
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Yuli 25-27, 1014
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Skalen Deven Yasarin. That name alone was more than
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enough to take any Beinison regiment any distance. He, just
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like his blood relatives, was supposed to be dead, a symbol of
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what will happen to those who would disagree with the imperial
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line, commoner and noble alike. It was a different reason that
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had brought the Imperial Beinison Army and Navy to the shores
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of Baranur, but the reason did not matter to Deven. His
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single-minded goal was the large cog in the Shandayma Harbor,
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the _Golden_Sword,_ fighting the strong currents at the Laraka
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delta. She majestically stood against the strong current,
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holding out better than even the larger, sturdier galleons at
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her side. She was the ship that carried a number of sages,
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among them the venerable Lord Haurance Cinofrid, one of the
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greatest scryers of his day.
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"I've got you," Deven laughed, watching the ship from
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shore. "Another day ... two. You won't float well with a hole
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in your belly."
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He looked down at the two dead sailors at his feet. There
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was a sense of satisfaction that another two of his enemies
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were dead by his own hand. Four decades ago he would have
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proudly called them his countrymen, but that pride was long
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since gone, forever replaced with anger and bitterness. No
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amount of Beinison blood would ever restore his family to life
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and he would keep that blood flowing as long as he could, to
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force the Empire to remember his loss.
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"Commander?" a man's voice followed hurried knocking on the cabin
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door. "Commander, you're needed on deck."
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Muriel Dainyn shifted in her hammock, letting the book she held
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close on her finger. "I'll be right there!" 'It's the wind. It's always
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the wind,' she thought, feeling the gentle rocking of the hammock. The
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motion soothed her, bringing back memories of a little girl on board the
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merchant vessel _Eastern_Star_ many years before. She swung out of the
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hammock with practiced ease, again opening the book and tossing a coin
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between the pages to keep her place, then proceeded up on deck.
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"Ma'am," a sailor said, passing her in the long alleyway she needed
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to navigate to get on deck. She greeted him, but did not stop, wanting
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to resolve the problems above and return to her novel.
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"Commander?" a new voice greeted her as she appeared on deck.
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"Lord Cinofrid. A pleasure to see you on deck so early in the
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morning."
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The elderly man bowed, his grey eyes picking up the sparkle of the
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sun. "The pleasure's all mine, Commander."
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"Commander Dainyn?" a sailor called from the quarterdeck.
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"Yes?" she looked up.
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"Wind's shifting west, Commander. We need to turn. We can't fight
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the current and the wind!"
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"Do it!"
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"North or south?"
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"You best handle this," the sage said, noticing the anxiety in the
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woman's face.
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"Thank you, my lord." She hurried up the companionway to the bridge
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over the quarterdeck, taking the stairs two or three at a time. "Icath?"
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she called the first mate.
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"Ma'am?"
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"Can't you handle this?"
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"No, ma'am. Whichever way we turn, we've got _Broken_Beak_ behind
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us and she's close enough that we'll take her fore and jib in a turn."
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The woman turned and looked at _Swift_Sparrow,_ the large galleon
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aft of them, holding her own into the wind, too close for any fancy
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maneuvering.
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"Damn Kaar! Using me for a wind break again! I've got it on my mind
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to knock that jib right off his deck!"
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"He's a captain, ma'am. One of Talens' favorites," the mate
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reminded her.
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"And my father's a duke ... not one of Untar's favorites. Let's see
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how fast Kaar dumps in his pants." She looked around, noticing the
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expectant sailors, all watching her. "Helm, hold her steady. Gennaker
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and mainsail down!"
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"We'll lose wind," Icath said.
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"And Kaar better move his cow, or she'll have a broken beak for
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sure."
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Sailors released lines, causing the large sails to drop and the
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_Golden_Sword_ to catch the current. The cog slowly drifted back, the
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smaller sails still holding the wind and fighting the current.
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"Turn back and look, Icath. I don't have the nerve."
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The mate adjusted his cap, taking the opportunity to glance over
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his shoulder. "They're watching us."
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"You'd think I was a Baranurian or something!" the woman exclaimed.
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"Kaar's an old sailor. He doesn't think you belong."
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"Tell him I don't want to be here any more than he wants me here,"
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she muttered.
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"Vane shifted," Icath noted.
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Muriel looked up at the streamer over the crow's nest. "Dropped
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sails in time. I'd hate to think where we'd be otherwise."
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"Pennant to stern!" someone on deck yelled.
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Muriel and Icath turned to look back at a sailor on deck of the
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_Sparrow,_ signalling them with a red flag. "Signal him to move back!"
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Muriel ordered.
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"Commander," the helmsman said, "I can't hold her into the wind."
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The rocking of the deck was long an indication of that.
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"Prepare to put port lee on my order."
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"_Sparrow_ needs to back off, or we'll be putting her jib though
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our side," Icath noted.
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"Aye, sir, but if she don't, she'll put her jib up our poop," the
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helmsman answered.
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Muriel watched a man signal the _Sparrow_ with a pennant, but no
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answer came back. "Drop sea anchor," she ordered.
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"Ma'am? That'll drag us."
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"Risk, Icath. It's all about risk. Cavalry will take a phalanx if
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it consists of cowards."
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"She's falling back," the signalman announced.
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"Mizzen up, lee to port!" Muriel ordered. Sailors heaved on ropes
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in response and the helmsman spun the wheel to the right. "Sea anchor
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up!"
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The _Golden_Sword_ slowly settled into the new current.
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"Doesn't make your day, does it?" Icath asked.
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"Oh, it makes it, all right. Makes it all bad."
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"Sorry, ma'am."
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"Not your doing, Icath. Just watch our back."
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"Yes, ma'am," he nodded and went to the helmsman as she took the
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companionway down to middeck.
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"Lord Cinofrid?" Muriel found the old sage looking off towards the
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nearing land as the ship was repositioned in the water. "I'm sorry about
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that scene."
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"It's quite all right, Commander. I'm just a passenger on your
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vessel."
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"So am I, my lord. I'm here only for political reasons."
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"Your fame on land precedes you," Cinofrid said, "but you shouldn't
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be a commander when you're a captain."
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"I don't want to be a captain, my lord. I want my sword and my
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horse and my regiment. And an enemy to fight."
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"But you're here now."
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Muriel flung a strand of oakum overboard. "I'm here because my
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father is a great captain, too old to go to war, and has dreams of me
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carrying his burgee into battle. I'd have been better off going with
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that fleet to Dargon. At least they get to land."
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"It's all about land to you, isn't it?" the sage laughed.
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"I was born on land. I sure intend to live on it!"
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"Do you know what your name means, Muriel?"
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She looked up at him, a little confused. This was the first time in
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a month he called her by her given name. Before this it was always
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'Commander', just like with the rest of her crew.
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"It means 'sea-bright'. I'll bet that wasn't an accident on your
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father's part."
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"Then why did he encourage me to be in the army?"
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"I don't know that. I never met the duke," Cinofrid answered, "but
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you have here a chance to be a legend on sea as well as land. This is an
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opportunity no one before you has had."
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"My lord, I may know the terms and maneuvers and command respect of
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my men, but when I eat breakfast and the ship rocks, I sure wish I was
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on solid ground."
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The old wizard laughed. "So do I."
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"I best get back to my tasks," Muriel said, secretly thinking about
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the novel waiting in her quarters. There were few real duties to handle
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while waiting for orders in the middle of the bay -- nothing Icath could
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not handle himself, except perhaps for the occasional pig-headed move by
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Captain Kaar or one of his officers.
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"I should, too," Cinofrid said. "I do my best work rested, in
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mornings."
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"I'll walk you down," Muriel offered, letting go of the gunwale.
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They made only a few steps, when the man in the crow's nest yelled
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out, "Man in the water!" Activity quickly picked up on deck, with
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sailors rushing to rails, looking into the sea. Muriel instinctively
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turned to the _Swift_Sparrow,_ expecting to see someone in the water,
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but the lookout yelled again, "Man in water on steer-board!"
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"Steer-board?" Muriel turned back to the side of the ship she was
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just on. There was no trace of anyone in the water. She neared the
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gunwale, looking into the water.
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"Commander?" the mate appeared at her side. "What do we do?"
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"Where is he, Icath? I can't see a thing!"
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"Right there," he pointed to some debris in the water about quarter
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league distant.
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"But that's just some planks ... a broken crate?" the woman
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squinted to see better.
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"You need to work on your sea-eyes," the sailor laughed. "That's a
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man."
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"He looks dead," someone announced.
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"No he's not," someone else yelled.
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"Lookout?" Icath called up. "What's the word?"
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"Alive, I think -- he's holding on!"
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"Commander?" Icath turned to the woman again. "Should we get 'im
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from the drink?"
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"Yes."
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"He's probably Baranurian."
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"Get him, before Kaar sees him. He might be important."
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"And if he's not?"
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Muriel looked at the nearing debris and the man she could now make
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out holding on to it. "If not, we'll see. We can always throw him back."
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"Baear, Marbin, get that man out!" Icath ordered.
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Two men scrambled for the davit extending over the bulwark from
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midship. Some others moved a gangplank into position to aid their
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efforts.
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"Arm a couple of men, just in case," Muriel told the mate.
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Icath barked out more orders, taking charge of the rescue. The
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debris was going to pass relatively close to the ship and no effort to
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move it was needed, but it would not be close enough to make the rescue
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easy.
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"Commander," Lord Cinofrid approached the ship's captain, "if you
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would, take notice of Captain Kaar and his crew."
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She looked over her shoulder at the _Swift_Sparrow,_ no more than
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one hundred feet off _Golden_Sword's_ port. The galleon's crew stood on
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deck, watching the events unfold on her ship, Dasgant Kaar in the
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forefront, arms folded, a scowl on his face.
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"Someone go for a swim?" Kaar yelled, noticing Muriel looking at
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him.
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"The cook went fishing!" she yelled back.
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"I've tasted your cook's work, Captain Dainyn. Leave him for the
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sharks!" The men around Kaar laughed.
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Muriel turned away, looking at her men work.
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"Won't you respond?" the sage asked.
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"No. He's not worth it," she said, trying to show more interest in
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the action on the other side of her ship. "Besides," she sighed, "I
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don't know what to say."
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"It's not what you say, but how you say it," Cinofrid advised.
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"Don't let him intimidate you."
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"Ma'am, _Broken_Beak's_ circling 'round," one of the sailors said,
|
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indicating to the galleon having raised mainsail and started around the
|
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cog's bow.
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"How much longer?" Muriel asked. "I don't want Kaar to see what
|
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we're doing. Icath?! What's going on?"
|
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"We almost got him," Icath called back. He had stepped over the
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bulwark and was holding on to the backstay, to keep from falling. Below
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and around him sailors cast lines in attempt to secure the debris.
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"Hurry it along," Muriel said. "Kaar's getting too curious."
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The mate glanced up at the galleon, making a wide circle, now half
|
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way to the cog's bow. "Baear, just pull him in. Don't worry about the
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planks."
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Muriel looked at the sage, then at the _Swift_Sparrow._ The galleon
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had indeed deserved that name, having gone most of the way to her ship's
|
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bow in such a short time. She fought the easterly wind, making the turn
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and that gave a few more moments for the sailors attempting the rescue.
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All they needed was just a few moments longer.
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"You're a competitive woman, Commander," Cinofrid laughed. "I see
|
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why you like war."
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"I don't like Kaar and the more I can make his belly ache, worrying
|
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about what it is I caught, the better I'll feel."
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A line on the davit broke, snapping from broadside and flying into
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the mainmast, where it tangled on the mainstay. "Hold him up!" Icath
|
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yelled.
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"Helm to steer-board!" Muriel called, ordering a turn into the
|
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wind. The ship moved to the right slowly, blocking the _Sparrow's_ view
|
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of the rescue.
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"All right, just hoist it up," Icath called down. "Don't bother
|
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with the raft."
|
|
Men heaved on the ropes strung overboard and brought up a plank on
|
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which sat a wet sailor, holding on to a semi-conscious man. Two sailors
|
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swung the davit in, locking the gooseneck that supported it in place.
|
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"Move him to the carling," Muriel instructed, knowing that would
|
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take her catch completely out of sight of the _Sparrow._ "Icath, wrap it
|
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up!"
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The ship's physician leaned over the rescued man and started
|
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checking his condition. A group of sailors gathered around them, all
|
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trying to get a good look at their catch, obscuring their captain's view
|
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as well as their own.
|
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Icath Taryl assisted the last two sailors on deck as the
|
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_Swift_Sparrow_ made her way around the _Golden_Sword's_ bow, Dasgant
|
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Kaar leaning on his ship's jib, looking at the crowd on deck and the
|
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debris in the water. Icath saluted the large captain as the ships again
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closed. "Good day to run circles around cogs, Captain."
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"What'd you catch, Taryl? Your cook or a shark?"
|
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"Shark caught the cook, sir. We didn't get much."
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Muriel entered the cargo hold, where the rescued man was placed,
|
|
away from the prying eyes of the _Sparrow's_ curious crew and captain.
|
|
The man they rescued was alive and well, although rather beat up and
|
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tired.
|
|
"A day or two rest and I expect he'll be as good as new," the
|
|
physician speculated. "He took some water, but he's in good shape."
|
|
"Thank you, doctor," she answered, studying her catch. He was a
|
|
tall man, maybe a little better than six foot, with blond hair and
|
|
bright blue eyes. His clothes were torn from what must have been a
|
|
struggle that forced him into the water and she suspected that he was
|
|
not a peasant. "I'll call you if there's anything else, doctor."
|
|
The physician nodded and left.
|
|
"Wait outside," Muriel instructed the two armed guards who followed
|
|
her down on Icath's orders. "No one comes in. If I need help, I'll call
|
|
you."
|
|
"Yes, Commander," the men answered and left.
|
|
Muriel approached her prisoner. He lay, still dripping water, on a
|
|
platform built of crates with supplies. As she approached, he tried to
|
|
sit up, but she motioned for him not to. "What is your name?" she asked,
|
|
speaking in Benosian. There was little chance the man would understand,
|
|
but it was her native tongue and the one she felt most comfortable in.
|
|
There was no indication the man understood. That could only mean he was
|
|
not on her side in this war.
|
|
"Are you Baranurian?" she asked in the local tongue. It seemed like
|
|
he grasped some words, but not enough to make sense of them. That
|
|
surprised her somewhat, but she did not give up. "Do you speak
|
|
Galician?" she asked in the only other language she knew.
|
|
The man forced himself up on his elbows. "I am Galician," he
|
|
answered. He took a deep breath and lay back down, obviously too
|
|
exhausted to support himself. "Where am I?"
|
|
"You're aboard the _Golden_Sword_ of the Royal Beinison Navy. What
|
|
is your name?" Seeing the man was not Baranurian, Muriel relaxed a bit.
|
|
He was not as big a threat as she feared he might turn out to be, and
|
|
she was curious what he was doing out in the bay, so far from his
|
|
homeland.
|
|
"My name is Rien Keegan," he answered. "I'm very grateful for your
|
|
help."
|
|
"I'd have thrown you back if I thought you were Baranurian," she
|
|
said.
|
|
Rien turned his head to look at her upon hearing that. "There are
|
|
sharks out there."
|
|
"There's a war out there."
|
|
"Does life mean so little to you that it can be disposed of so
|
|
easily?"
|
|
"An enemy's life? Sure." Muriel sat down on a crate across from
|
|
Rien, studying him.
|
|
"Well, I guess we all feed on death in one way or another," Rien
|
|
answered, turning his head away from the woman.
|
|
Muriel glanced up at the beam that ran above him, that his eyes had
|
|
to be locked on. "What makes you say that? What do you do?"
|
|
"I'm somewhat of a scholar."
|
|
"A scholar?" She examined his form. There were two types of
|
|
scholars she met. The fat ones who sat on their rumps all day and
|
|
complained and the skinny ones, who sat on their rumps and complained
|
|
just as much. This Rien Keegan looked nothing like a scholar. He was
|
|
well muscled, well tanned and clearly weather-worn. "You don't look much
|
|
like a scholar."
|
|
"What does one look like?"
|
|
"What does one do?"
|
|
Rien looked at her, understanding the question. "Books are
|
|
perceptions of the past, by people who experienced and recorded it. Most
|
|
accounts are biased by what those recording them believed personally, or
|
|
what they were paid to believe or write. History isn't just a story from
|
|
the past, a few faded words on parchment or a legend passed from father
|
|
to son. What we do now, we do because someone else did so before us and
|
|
the way we can learn about ourselves is by studying ourselves. We are
|
|
all reflections of our past."
|
|
Muriel smiled, trying to hide the smile from her prisoner by
|
|
looking away. "You're a philosopher."
|
|
"I'm a scholar who doesn't look for answers in books. If we stop
|
|
exploring life today, who will write the books about modern life that
|
|
future generations will want to read?"
|
|
"What are you looking for in Baranur?"
|
|
"Roots."
|
|
"Whose?"
|
|
Rien did not answer for some time. "Everyone's. The west coast of
|
|
Cherisk is where Fretheod fell. It's where the world was reborn."
|
|
"Is that so?"
|
|
Rien shifted on his crates. "Just tell me I'm crazy and leave it at
|
|
that."
|
|
"All scholars are eccentric," Muriel answered. "I'm more interested
|
|
in why Baranur now. And why the river?"
|
|
"Perhaps I should ask you why Baranur now and why the river?"
|
|
"I have my orders."
|
|
"I have my research. I told you why Baranur. This is the west-most
|
|
part of Cherisk. As for the river ..."
|
|
"Yes?" Muriel asked after a prolonged pause.
|
|
"Let's just call it bad timing."
|
|
"You were attacked?"
|
|
"Yes."
|
|
"By?"
|
|
"A man with a sword."
|
|
"Benosian?"
|
|
"A man with a sword. He did not tell me who he was fighting for."
|
|
Muriel stood up. "You look like someone who can defend himself."
|
|
"Not against an armed opponent," Rien sighed.
|
|
"Those are the fortunes of war."
|
|
"There are no fortunes in war."
|
|
Muriel frowned. "You best rest. I have other duties to attend to. I
|
|
will have food sent to you shortly." She walked to the door, pausing as
|
|
she heard a struggling gasp behind her.
|
|
"Who are you?"
|
|
She turned to see Rien sitting up on the crate. He was slouching
|
|
forward, holding on to his ribs. "I am Commander Muriel Dainyn, captain
|
|
of this vessel. My physician said you're merely bruised. You will be
|
|
fine in a few days. I will have him mix something for your pain." She
|
|
waited a moment longer, then turned and left the hold, giving the guards
|
|
outside instructions to feed the prisoner and wait.
|
|
She returned on deck and finding a remote spot along the bulwark,
|
|
leaned on the rail and watched the sea. This self-proclaimed scholar she
|
|
caught did not strike her like what he claimed he was. He was fit, tan,
|
|
strong. He could be a scholar, but she had a feeling. He just did not
|
|
seem the type.
|
|
"Commander?" the first mate's voice disturbed her contemplations.
|
|
"Right here, Icath."
|
|
He leaned on the bulwark by her, looking down to where the water
|
|
licked at the hull below. "How's our fish?"
|
|
"He claims to be Galician ... and a scholar."
|
|
"Is he?"
|
|
Muriel shrugged. "He speaks Galician. Better than I. But I don't
|
|
know the first thing about scholars."
|
|
"He's pretty fit," Icath said. "Didn't strike me like a book
|
|
lover."
|
|
"Same here."
|
|
"Why was he in the drink?"
|
|
"Said someone attacked him." Muriel turned, placing her back
|
|
against the rail. "Anyone here speak Galician?"
|
|
"Can't say. Lord Cinofrid, perhaps. He'd tell you if our fish's a
|
|
scholar."
|
|
"He has more important things to do than question my prisoners,"
|
|
the woman answered. "Let's not forget why he's here."
|
|
Icath nodded. "You're right. But I forget why we're here
|
|
sometimes."
|
|
"How's Kaar?"
|
|
"_Broken_Beak_ backed off. Kaar hasn't been on deck since the
|
|
rescue."
|
|
"Watch him like he watches me, Icath. I don't trust that man one
|
|
bit."
|
|
"Nor I, Commander. If it were up to men like him, you'd have no
|
|
place in the service of the Emperor."
|
|
"Yes, I would. As a rug."
|
|
Icath turned to look at her. "Those are harsh words."
|
|
"I know Kaar."
|
|
"I'll watch, ma'am."
|
|
Muriel turned back to the water as the mate left, reviewing the
|
|
talk she had with her prisoner. Could he be a Galician scholar? 'Keegan'
|
|
-- was that a Galician name? She kicked at a loose bulwark board.
|
|
|
|
After the evening meal, Muriel told the guards to bring the
|
|
prisoner to her on deck, then stay at a distance and watch. She wanted
|
|
to give him a sense of security and a chance to tell her his story
|
|
again. She did not have to wait long. Moments later, the two guards
|
|
reappeared with the scholar and led him up to the fore of the ship.
|
|
"I understand you're feeling better," Muriel said, looking him up
|
|
and down. She had not mistaken about his build. He was tall and well
|
|
muscled, not like any scholar she had ever met.
|
|
"Much better," he smiled, sitting down on a crate. She noticed him
|
|
wince as he changed positions.
|
|
"My physician informs me your shoulder and ribs are sore, but there
|
|
is little bruising."
|
|
"Lucky twist," Rien answered. "Very lucky, indeed."
|
|
"How did it happen?"
|
|
He let out a deep breath. "I was making my way into town, when a
|
|
man confronted me at the edge of the docks. He drew his sword and ..."
|
|
Rien looked up. "You're going to make me tell this story until you're
|
|
satisfied it does not change."
|
|
"I have to be careful in a war."
|
|
He nodded. "The man didn't say anything. Just drew his sword and
|
|
started swinging. I was able to thrust my pack before me and it took the
|
|
first hit, but he cut it, and his sword caught my sleeve. His second
|
|
blow was to my side. I suppose that having caught in my clothes, the
|
|
sword twisted and the flat of the blade pushed me over into the river. I
|
|
must have been stunned, because the next thing I knew, I was holding on
|
|
to driftwood, being battered against the side of your ship.
|
|
"I wish I could tell you who that man was. I wish I knew myself.
|
|
I've met my share of brigands and robbers, but this was the first man
|
|
who was unwilling to talk."
|
|
"You always try talking to those who draw steel on you?" Muriel
|
|
asked, amused.
|
|
"I try. Sometimes it works."
|
|
"Tell me."
|
|
Rien looked up. "This is hardly an interrogation."
|
|
"You'd rather I interrogated you?"
|
|
"No, please ..."
|
|
"Then amuse me by telling me a story."
|
|
"I ..." Rien paused, thinking. "I guess it was three or four years
|
|
ago. I was in Lederia, in the highlands, when my horse's path was
|
|
blocked by a fallen tree. I got out of my saddle to lead the animal
|
|
through the brush, when two men appeared from it, both holding swords. I
|
|
had the feeling they would take my money, but I did not expect they
|
|
would take me as well.
|
|
"They wanted my horse, I imagine, because they went through great
|
|
efforts to be gentle with it and ..."
|
|
"I thought I heard Galician speech," Haurance Cinofrid appeared
|
|
from the darkness. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I love the language. It
|
|
has words for things we build sentences to describe."
|
|
Muriel frowned. She had agreed with the sage that he would intrude
|
|
on their discussion and evaluate her prisoner, which he did right on
|
|
time, but she wanted to hear the rest of the scholar's story and the
|
|
sage's interruption quickly removed any chance of that happening this
|
|
night.
|
|
Rien glanced at the old man, looking him up and down. He was a
|
|
grey-eyed, grey-haired man in his sixties, appearing somewhat brittle,
|
|
but rather agile for someone of his advanced years.
|
|
Muriel stood up. "Lord Haurance Cinofrid, Rien Keegan."
|
|
Cinofrid approached. "You're the man who was pulled from the water
|
|
this morning."
|
|
Rien stood up as the sage approached and greeted the man in the
|
|
traditional Benosian greeting. The old man responded in kind, a little
|
|
surprised.
|
|
"You've been to our lands?" he asked, letting go of Rien's arm.
|
|
"I am familiar with some customs, my lord."
|
|
"I wish I could say the same about Galicia, but your borders are
|
|
closed to most foreigners."
|
|
They all sat down again. "My Lord King is a man of old beliefs of
|
|
family and privacy."
|
|
"I understand your Lord King is an ancient man," Cinofrid noted.
|
|
"He is an old man, but far from ancient. His isolation gives birth
|
|
to many rumors."
|
|
"So I can imagine." The sage fell silent for a moment, casting a
|
|
glance at Muriel. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"
|
|
"Not at all, my lord. I was being entertained with scholarly
|
|
tales."
|
|
"You are a scholar, then?" Cinofrid asked.
|
|
"I am a scholar," Rien agreed.
|
|
"Your discipline?"
|
|
Rien shrugged. "People?"
|
|
"A historian? A philosopher?"
|
|
"A little of both, I guess. I look at life and try to make sense of
|
|
it."
|
|
Cinofrid laughed. "Puglewav, Shewu, Elepniwra ... Keegan?"
|
|
"I would be honored if some day my name is listed with the greatest
|
|
thinkers of Fretheod."
|
|
"Some would call them harlequins and soothsayers."
|
|
"What would you call them, my lord?" Rien asked.
|
|
"I'd call them men who had too much free time, whose purses grew
|
|
and energies dwindled, so they travelled the lands, giving people
|
|
advice. Puglewav was killed because he dared speak."
|
|
"But he said things that are to this day the basis of our
|
|
existence."
|
|
"But was he right?"
|
|
"He was to me. He said, 'an unexamined life is not worth living,'
|
|
so I study the lives that people lead."
|
|
"He also said that 'no man knowingly does evil'," the sage pointed
|
|
out.
|
|
"You don't think he was right?"
|
|
"Certainly the men who took your money and your horse, and the one
|
|
who attacked you when you entered the city were were not 'good men',"
|
|
Muriel said.
|
|
"Oh, you're not going to involve me in a political discussion,
|
|
because that's where this question always leads. If you want to
|
|
understand ethics, you have to understand Shewu."
|
|
"Surely you have an opinion," Cinofrid protested.
|
|
"I do," Rien said, "but let me assure you that it is not the same
|
|
as yours. And it is different from a Baranurian you may find in this
|
|
town. Even the two of you, I suspect, differ in opinions on the
|
|
divisions between good and bad."
|
|
"Good and bad are the lines that divide Gow from Amante," Muriel
|
|
said.
|
|
"And the knights of Beinison align themselves with Gow, the
|
|
Protector?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Of course!"
|
|
"Does that mean the knights of Baranur are aligned with Amante, the
|
|
Masked God?" Rien went on. "Surely they don't view themselves as
|
|
following the god of criminals, executioners and gladiators!" He paused
|
|
long enough to let his words sink in, but not long enough to let his
|
|
audience answer. "Good and bad are the lines that divide the twins,
|
|
Sanar, the Wise and Talam, the Green."
|
|
"But they're both gods of healing and nurture and growth," Muriel
|
|
protested.
|
|
"But one is a king."
|
|
Silence lasted for a long span of time, disturbed only by the sound
|
|
of the waves lapping against the sides of the ship. Muriel kept looking
|
|
at Rien, Cinofrid off into the murky darkness of the harbor. Somewhere
|
|
on deck boards creaked as sailors attended to their chores on the dark
|
|
deck of the _Golden_Sword._ A loose sail flapped in the light breeze
|
|
blowing in from the south.
|
|
"I don't understand."
|
|
Rien turned to look at Muriel. "Think about it. It has nothing to
|
|
do with what they do and everything with who they are." He stood up as
|
|
the two guards who had brought him here came back, alerted by the sudden
|
|
silence. "I see my keepers are here to take me back." He indicated to
|
|
the two men as they appeared from the shadows. "Good night, Captain.
|
|
Good night, Lord Cinofrid."
|
|
He walked over to the two soldiers and let them escort him into the
|
|
darkness.
|
|
Muriel remained quiet well after their footsteps disappeared below
|
|
deck. She tried to make eye contact with the old sage, but failed,
|
|
twice. Then, looking into the dark water beyond the ship, spoke. "Is he
|
|
a scholar?"
|
|
"He asks hard questions."
|
|
"Does that make him a Galician scholar?"
|
|
"Perhaps."
|
|
"My lord ..."
|
|
"He affected you," the sage interrupted.
|
|
"He made me think about his world."
|
|
"Galicia?"
|
|
Muriel shook her head. "He made me think about what makes us
|
|
different."
|
|
"Then perhaps he is what he claims. Puglewav was killed for this
|
|
crime."
|
|
Muriel sighed. "He said he was not going to bring up politics."
|
|
"By saying he would not, he did," the sage stated. "And he knew
|
|
when to take leave. He did not let the discussion fall on the morality
|
|
of the war."
|
|
"But he did let it lie with us," the woman said. She stood up and
|
|
leaned on the bulwark. "What do I do with him?"
|
|
"Give him a day or two to recover, then return him to shore, or
|
|
arrange passage to Beinison on one of our returning ships, should he
|
|
desire it."
|
|
"You don't think he's a threat?"
|
|
"No more than I am, Commander."
|
|
Muriel frowned. "You're Untar's eyes."
|
|
"The eyes are old and tired. They don't see as well as they used
|
|
to. The army struggles more as it reaches further inland. My range is
|
|
tasked."
|
|
Muriel turned back to the sea, leaning on the ship as the little
|
|
girl she used to be had. The ocean had remained much as she remembered
|
|
it, except much of the childhood romance had turned to mystery of the
|
|
vast expanse, and the bulwark grew smaller and less comfortable. Life
|
|
had only managed to become more complex.
|
|
|
|
"You're up early, Commander," Icath called down to Muriel before
|
|
she was completely out on deck. She paused, squinting up into the bright
|
|
sunlight, holding on to the fidley for support. The first mate stood on
|
|
the quarterdeck, fists on his sides, a pipe in his mouth. He adjusted
|
|
his cap as the woman made her way to the upper-most deck.
|
|
"Thought you said you were going to take night watch."
|
|
"Took it."
|
|
Muriel pulled a cable hanging over the toerail back on board,
|
|
taking the opportunity to glance into the clear blue water.
|
|
"_Broken_Beak_ almost tore our jib off at daeg," Icath muttered.
|
|
"She must've gone up into the delta at night, then hurried back down in
|
|
the morning. Kaar's sitting on us like a vulture!"
|
|
Muriel calmly turned and looked at the large galleon, holding wind
|
|
not far away. There were two sailors on deck watching the
|
|
_Golden_Sword._ "How close did she come?"
|
|
"Quite close. Close enough, I could smell their breakfast."
|
|
"What were they having?"
|
|
"Maggots on rye," Icath spat. "And salt water."
|
|
The woman laughed. "You stayed up to tell me that?"
|
|
"Stayed up to watch the raffenrakers."
|
|
"Take a break, Icath. I've got plenty of dizzy sailors as it is,"
|
|
Muriel said.
|
|
"Too tired to sleep," he answered, taking a deep puff of smoke.
|
|
"I've got a book in my cabin -- _Lives_of_Lords_and_Princes_ --
|
|
guaranteed to put you to sleep, if you can put it down ..."
|
|
"That the one you been reading?" Icath asked.
|
|
"The same."
|
|
Icath shook the ash from his pipe. "I don't like to read."
|
|
"Either way, get off the deck. You've been up for a full day now."
|
|
He nodded. "Watch the topsail. It's been tearing loose all night.
|
|
I've had the bowman set it twice this morning." He paused, looking
|
|
about. "Galician been very quiet. Probably still asleep. Cinofrid came
|
|
up to sniff the wind. Cook said he wants to make port for new supplies.
|
|
All right, all right. I'm going." He shook the pipe out again and
|
|
proceeded below deck.
|
|
Muriel watched him go, then glanced up at the topsail. She could
|
|
see a corner binding flapping in the wind. "Bowman, what's with my
|
|
sails?" she called down.
|
|
"Need a fresh line, ma'am! I'll need to restring the lines next
|
|
time we put into port!"
|
|
She nodded to him. Five days since they left port and everyone
|
|
wanted back already. The nod turned into a shaking of the head. "In a
|
|
few days, Bar."
|
|
He went about his business and she turned to look at the
|
|
_Swift_Sparrow._ The galleon had neared a bit since she looked at it
|
|
last and standing on deck, before the castle, was Kaar himself.
|
|
"Promises to be a good day, Captain," he called to her, in spite of
|
|
the dark clouds gathering in the west. He made a few steps forward,
|
|
coming up to the bulwark of his ship.
|
|
"Good for swallowing the anchor," Muriel agreed.
|
|
"Now, Captain, is that any way to talk to a fellow soldier?"
|
|
She sighed and turned her back to him, not having anything more to
|
|
say.
|
|
"Who was that fish you caught yesterday?" Kaar continued his
|
|
questioning. "I understand he was out for a long swim."
|
|
Muriel calmly proceeded to the lower deck, letting the echos of the
|
|
unanswered questions remain on the wind. She went below deck, to the
|
|
cargo section where the Galician scholar was being held. The two guards
|
|
at the door stiffened up as she approached.
|
|
"'Morning, ma'am," one said.
|
|
"How's my guest?" she asked.
|
|
"He's up, ma'am."
|
|
"Open the door."
|
|
The guard fumbled with the key and let her in, waiting for further
|
|
instructions in the corridor.
|
|
Muriel entered the hold, not bothering to close the door behind
|
|
her. Rien Keegan lay across a row of crates he had apparently arranged
|
|
himself. His arm lay across his face, shielding his eyes from the
|
|
non-existent light. There was a blanket lying on the floor, at the base
|
|
of the crates. Muriel paused, looking at his motionless form. "You're in
|
|
damn good shape for a book lover, Keegan."
|
|
His arm slipped, the back of his hand slapping against the wooden
|
|
deck. He quickly pulled it back up, making a fist. "Ah ..."
|
|
"Don't hurt yourself. My physician isn't good with splinters."
|
|
Rien brought his hand to his eyes. "I hope someone here is."
|
|
"Let's go on deck," Muriel said. "Have you sniff some wind."
|
|
She turned and walked out, pausing by the guards. "Bring us a
|
|
breakfast on deck. Nothing fancy."
|
|
"Yes, ma'am."
|
|
She turned, watching Rien get up and follow her out. When she saw
|
|
him pause to take a deep breath before standing up and try to disguise a
|
|
slight limp, she felt a guilty pull at her heart. "You'd be better off
|
|
sleeping in a hammock," she said when he caught up. "There are a few in
|
|
the hold."
|
|
"I didn't want to be presumptuous."
|
|
"If you're worried about imposing ..."
|
|
"I already am, I know," he interrupted. "But you haven't offered me
|
|
my freedom."
|
|
"Where are you going to go? You're about as deep in the war as you
|
|
could get."
|
|
"It'd be worse on the front line."
|
|
"Maybe ..."
|
|
They came up on deck and Rien paused, giving Muriel a chance to
|
|
pick the direction. "Why maybe?"
|
|
"Up there they only deal with the moment," Muriel explained. "Here
|
|
I have to live with what they left me. I'd rather be at the front."
|
|
"At the front or home?"
|
|
Muriel headed for the fore of the ship and Rien followed. "At home,
|
|
but if I have to be in a war, I'd rather fight it, than watch the
|
|
wounded and the prisoners and the bureaucrats."
|
|
"I think I qualify as all three," Rien smirked.
|
|
Muriel laughed, stopping at the very edge of the foredeck. "You do,
|
|
don't you?"
|
|
Rien proceeded to the bulwark and took a look over the side.
|
|
"It's clean today," Muriel said. "That's very rare. Most days the
|
|
river carries a lot of mud into the bay, making the water brown, but
|
|
today Moire is at rest."
|
|
Rien shook his head. "Looks like it's going to storm."
|
|
"We'll put further out when it does," Muriel said. "It's a good
|
|
idea to keep distance from shore in storms."
|
|
"How far out?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Depends. A league or two. Whatever my helmsman feels comfortable
|
|
with. If we catch a high wave crest, we can come down on a pretty low
|
|
trough and that can crack the strake. Or worse yet, we can scrape bottom
|
|
or rip the hull on rocks."
|
|
"I feel safe already."
|
|
A sailor appeared with a tray of food. "Where would you like this,
|
|
ma'am?"
|
|
She indicated to a barrel tied down on deck.
|
|
"It is safer than other occupations."
|
|
"Even in a war?"
|
|
"Pull up a crate," Muriel indicated to the meal.
|
|
Rien studied her for a moment. "You always treat your prisoners
|
|
this way?"
|
|
"If you're Galician, you're not my prisoner."
|
|
"And I'm welcome to a hammock and breakfast?"
|
|
"Yes," she smiled.
|
|
Rien sat down and she pulled up another crate across from him. At
|
|
this point she decided to trust him a little more. Even if he did not
|
|
look it, he seemed like a scholar and was rather defensive about his
|
|
work. He was always polite and not once indicated desire to run or cause
|
|
trouble. If his mouth was the most trouble he could be, she found him
|
|
not to be a threat.
|
|
"That ship," Rien pointed to the _Broken_Beak,_ off port, "is
|
|
rather close."
|
|
"That's _Swift_Sparrow,_" Muriel said, starting on her breakfast.
|
|
"Her captain doesn't know how to keep his distance."
|
|
Rien studied the ship for a while, as they ate. "Looks like she ran
|
|
into something," he commented on the newer looking wood of the jib and
|
|
the fore of the ship.
|
|
"We call her '_Broken_Beak_'," Muriel said. "A year or so ago, Kaar
|
|
caught a good wind and ran her up the Royal Docks at Tasantil. Brought
|
|
down a whole pier."
|
|
"And the Emperor didn't get mad?"
|
|
"That was Untar the First, just a few months before he died. People
|
|
say he laughed so hard, he wet himself."
|
|
Rien smiled. "Sounds like it could make a good myth in a generation
|
|
or two."
|
|
"It probably will," Muriel agreed. "I already heard rumors that he
|
|
was falling ill back then. I suspect they're not true, though. He was a
|
|
tough old man."
|
|
"And his son?"
|
|
"His son wants to be tough. He wants to be the legend his father
|
|
is."
|
|
"Is that the reason for the war?"
|
|
Muriel stopped eating and looked critically at Rien. "Last night
|
|
you said you don't involve yourself in political discussions because
|
|
..."
|
|
"I'm sorry. I was trying to lure a personal opinion out of you."
|
|
She shook her head. "I follow my Emperor. If he orders we take
|
|
Baranur, I travel on land. If he orders we war with Bichu, I will walk
|
|
over water. If his wish is to challenge Veran the Bold, I will follow
|
|
him through the fires of hell."
|
|
Almost as if in response, a sudden gust of wind rocked the ship.
|
|
Muriel instantly got to her feet. "Bowman, take down that sail!"
|
|
"Yes, ma'am!" a heavy set bearded man yelled back.
|
|
She sat back down, putting her head in her hands. "I don't know
|
|
where we're going to get a new topsail ..." She brushed her hair back.
|
|
"Sometimes I hate this job."
|
|
"You can't replace your sail?" Rien asked cautiously.
|
|
"We can't replace a thing," Muriel said bitterly. "Our lines are
|
|
overextended." She was going to say more, but did not. Baranur's leaders
|
|
did not realize how thin the Beinison lines had become and she was not
|
|
going to enlighten the Galician scholar about how much the invading
|
|
force had to sacrifice to push the way it had from Sharks' Cove to Port
|
|
Sevlyn. They lost three thousand men taking the city. They must have
|
|
lost a quarter that getting to Port Sevlyn in five days. "The supply
|
|
ships are all in the south. Warships have to resupply the troops here.
|
|
And we don't have enough for ourselves, much less the front lines."
|
|
"Sounds like you're already following Untar through the fires of
|
|
hell."
|
|
"What I do, I do for my Lord."
|
|
Rien sat back on his crate, finished with his meal. "Your lord must
|
|
be a very unique man."
|
|
"He is."
|
|
Rien eyed the dagger lying on the tray on the barrel. "May I?"
|
|
"What for?" Muriel asked.
|
|
"Splinter."
|
|
She nodded, cautious that he not trick her. He reached out and
|
|
picked it up, carefully cleaned the edge and then scratched the tip over
|
|
the back of his hand. A moment passed and Rien again ran the blade over
|
|
his skin.
|
|
"Not coming out?"
|
|
"I can't get myself to press it harder." He moved the dagger again
|
|
and it slipped from his grasp. Rien quickly reached for it and returned
|
|
it to the tray. "Sorry." A drop of blood ran down his fingers.
|
|
Muriel shook her head. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you're a scholar,"
|
|
she laughed.
|
|
Rien covered his hand, applying pressure to the cut. "I think I got
|
|
it."
|
|
"Good thing you kept your fingers," Muriel answered. She paused,
|
|
looking at the chain and medallion now hanging outside Rien's tunic. The
|
|
pattern looked vaguely familiar.
|
|
"Sorry about the mess."
|
|
"Not like the first time there's been blood on this deck. Let's go
|
|
wash it out."
|
|
Rien stood up, the medallion swinging as he righted himself. Muriel
|
|
caught it and took a closer look.
|
|
"This crest. Is it Benosian?"
|
|
Rien nodded. "Someone I used to chase gave it to me."
|
|
"A woman?"
|
|
"A woman."
|
|
"Beinisonian?"
|
|
He nodded again. "I told you, I travel."
|
|
"Well, come on."
|
|
"Ship to fore!" the lookout in the crow's nest yelled.
|
|
Muriel turned to see the _Swift_Sparrow_ slowly turn in the water
|
|
ahead of them, pointing her jib off their port. Her new course would
|
|
take her only twenty or thirty feet off their port side.
|
|
"Helm to port!" Muriel yelled. "Keep our bow to them!"
|
|
The _Golden_Sword_ groaned under the shifting weight, but managed
|
|
to keep her jib pointed at the large galleon, forcing the other ship to
|
|
pull further away as she adjusted course.
|
|
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Muriel yelled at Kaar,
|
|
standing at the bow of his ship. "We're supposed to be on the same
|
|
side!"
|
|
Kaar's smug expression betrayed his intention to get a look at
|
|
Rien.
|
|
A hatch burst open and Icath Taryl, the first mate, jumped out on
|
|
deck. He froze seeing the galleon pass within grappling range and
|
|
instinctively reached for a sword that was not there. "Kaar, you pull
|
|
this stunt again and you're going to have burning tar on your deck!"
|
|
The galleon's captain let out a laugh. "I don't think your meager
|
|
crew could handle the assault of my men. Swim with the small fish, Icath
|
|
-- your own captain's more your size. You girls have a lot of growing to
|
|
do."
|
|
The tray the morning meal had been served on went flying over the
|
|
water, impacting the hull of the _Swift_Sparrow_ with a loud clank.
|
|
"I should add," Kaar yelled as the distance between the ships grew,
|
|
"your captain, Icath, even throws like a woman ..."
|
|
|
|
Muriel Dainyn adjusted her hair, watching two sailors stretch two
|
|
torn sails on deck. The strong morning wind made their task harder, but
|
|
they managed to pin the two stretches of cloth under a pair of crates.
|
|
"Figure we can make a whole sail out of this, ma'am," one of the
|
|
men guessed. "Be pretty heavy, though."
|
|
"It'll have to do," Muriel said. "At least we didn't lose any of
|
|
the big sails."
|
|
"Lost some rigging," the sailor complained.
|
|
Muriel walked around the stretched out sails, wondering where she
|
|
would find their replacements. The rigging was easy. There was probably
|
|
a league and a half of strong rope in the hold. They could re-rig the
|
|
ship if they wanted, but sails were hard to find in the middle of a war.
|
|
She looked up at the mast from which the wind of the previous night's
|
|
storm tore the rigging, pulling down and tearing a folded sail. It was
|
|
really no one's fault. Just bad luck.
|
|
"Commander?"
|
|
She turned to face the first mate.
|
|
"We took a little water, but no more than in the belly of a good
|
|
drunk. No hull damage and the deck is fine. We got off easy for a storm
|
|
like that."
|
|
"Where am I going to get sails, Icath? Yesterday it was one. Today
|
|
I need two."
|
|
"We can try for a trade," he tilted his head towards the other
|
|
ships in the bay.
|
|
"For what, Icath? Rope?"
|
|
"We can ask Talens for sails in exchange for rigging. Say we'll
|
|
give 'im enough rope to hang everyone left in Sharks' Cove."
|
|
Laughter sounded from the men on deck. "We'll even do the work, if
|
|
he gives us a few days at a tavern," someone yelled out.
|
|
Icath glanced up to the quarter deck, where the yell came from.
|
|
"Aren't you supposed to be rigging?"
|
|
"Gallows are just as easy, sir!"
|
|
Muriel looked at her first mate and laughed. "You're losing."
|
|
"I don't mind a little bantering with the men," he answered. "And
|
|
something tells me they enjoy it, too. You should join in."
|
|
Muriel shook her head. "I should find us some sails."
|
|
"Why don't you ask Lord Cinofrid?" Icath suggested. "He might know
|
|
the right people."
|
|
"I suppose you're right," Muriel said. "He's really been making
|
|
more use of us than we of him. I think I will call on him." She cast one
|
|
last glance at the men patching the torn sails and went below deck.
|
|
Haurance Cinofrid's cabin was a small hold to the aft of the ship.
|
|
It held food and water on long voyages, but here, not far from shore and
|
|
a town ready to offer produce, it was a comfortably large room for the
|
|
sage to do his work in relative quiet and safety. She paused at the door
|
|
and knocked lightly. She knew the sage to be at work this hour of the
|
|
morning, but he had never turned anyone away.
|
|
No answer came to the knock, but the unlocked door cracked open and
|
|
Muriel entered the hold. The sage sat at the table that was brought in
|
|
for him, a large wood bowl of water before him. Two candles burned on
|
|
the table, casting gloomy shadows on the elderly man. He was deep in
|
|
concentration.
|
|
Muriel paused for a moment, wondering if she would disturb his
|
|
work, but then closed the door behind her and approached the sage. There
|
|
was a faint image in the bowl. A forest and a damaged city wall. For a
|
|
moment she thought she could see people moving along the wall, but the
|
|
picture paled.
|
|
"Sit, Commander. I'll be with you in a moment."
|
|
She looked at the sage, sitting in his chair, unmoving, eyes
|
|
tightly closed. He sensed her?
|
|
The image in the bowl cleared up. From above green trees a hill
|
|
could be seen. An army stood on that hill. A small force. The enemy's
|
|
force. The standard that flew before the troops was of the Kingdom of
|
|
Baranur and next to it flew two others. Muriel could not identify them.
|
|
The image once again flickered, pulling away from the hill, across the
|
|
forest, letting the picture blur as everything passed by at a rapid
|
|
pace. The candles blew out.
|
|
Haurance Cinofrid opened his eyes.
|
|
"Gateway?" Muriel asked.
|
|
He shook his head. "Closer. Much closer ..."
|
|
"Where did they come from?"
|
|
"Up north, perhaps. Our scouts missed them, but they're few in
|
|
number. They're not a threat. They're caught between our forces in Port
|
|
Sevlyn and the army at Gateway. I will inform the local commander to
|
|
send a messenger to Port Sevlyn ..."
|
|
"I wish I could be there ..." Muriel sighed. "It's so hard knowing
|
|
what's happening out there and not being able to take part."
|
|
"There are plenty of battles here, Commander," the sage said.
|
|
"Resistance in the town, a citizen army building in the south, Captain
|
|
Kaar ..." He smiled sadly. "I sense there is more, but I can't see it.
|
|
Something watching me ... another sage, perhaps. The enemy can see
|
|
me ..."
|
|
"You'll be perfectly safe on the _Golden_Sword,_" Muriel assured
|
|
the old sage. "The sailors are skilled and our few troops are well
|
|
trained."
|
|
Cinofrid nodded. "I don't fear for my well being on your vessel,
|
|
Commander."
|
|
"I am glad," Muriel answered. It was time to talk business. "I hope
|
|
I didn't interrupt ..." she said, knowing well enough that she did
|
|
intrude on the sage's work.
|
|
A kind smile spread on the sage's face. "Your interruptions are
|
|
always a pleasure. What can I do for you, Commander?"
|
|
"When you're out there, looking around," Muriel indicated to the
|
|
bowl, "you wouldn't have happened to spot a sail or two I can have?"
|
|
Cinofrid laughed. "A sail?"
|
|
"Last night's storm damaged ours," the captain explained. "We have
|
|
no spares."
|
|
"Is it serious?" the sage asked, his expression now somber.
|
|
"Not really. It's just the topsail and the skysail," Muriel
|
|
explain. "They're small sails, but they do help."
|
|
"I haven't paid much attention to sails, I'm afraid," Lord Cinofrid
|
|
answered. "I know there are none in the forest."
|
|
"Well, I was hoping you'd know ..."
|
|
He shook his head. "War and sails are your aptitudes."
|
|
"Well, I guess you help me once and I expect you to help me with
|
|
everything," Muriel started to rise.
|
|
"Do you mean lord Keegan?"
|
|
"The one man in this city who can't hold a knife."
|
|
"He visited with me last night," the sage said. "I was meaning to
|
|
tell you. During the storm I couldn't get my work done and he couldn't
|
|
sleep. I ran across him and his guards in the corridor and we struck up
|
|
a conversation. He's a most interesting man."
|
|
"I'm surprised my men let him out of the hold without checking with
|
|
me first," Muriel frowned.
|
|
"With a loop of bandages on his hand, in addition to his costumery
|
|
groaning, he did not seem like a threat to me."
|
|
"What did you talk about?"
|
|
"His travels, Baranur, Galicia. He holds many interesting opinions.
|
|
To a philosophical aspirant such as myself, he's a fountain of ideas.
|
|
He's lucky it was you and not Captain Kaar that picked him up."
|
|
"Lucky, huh?"
|
|
|
|
"Commander," Icath Taryl approached his captain, talking quietly so
|
|
the other men on deck would not pay attention. "Last time _Broken_Beak_
|
|
passed by, they tossed this on board." He held out a rock, with a piece
|
|
of string and a rolled-up sheet of parchment.
|
|
"They're throwing rocks at us now? Where'd they get a rock?"
|
|
"Read the note."
|
|
Muriel took the scroll from the first mate and unrolled it. Black
|
|
ink, somewhat runny from the heavy humidity, cursively covered two short
|
|
lines. "Captain Dainyn, we must meet. Dasgant Kaar."
|
|
"If I didn't value the parchment, I'd tell you to throw it to the
|
|
sharks."
|
|
"You won't meet with him?"
|
|
"What for? He hasn't done anything but insult me and endanger my
|
|
ship for the last month." She glanced at the _Swift_Sparrow,_ holding
|
|
sail not far away. "Give me that." She took the rock from Icath.
|
|
"What are you going to do?"
|
|
Muriel walked to the stern of her ship and studied the galleon. A
|
|
few moments passed and the galleon neared. Kaar and two other men
|
|
appeared on deck. Kaar seemed anxious.
|
|
"Throw like a girl, do I?" Muriel yelled when the gap between the
|
|
ships narrowed significantly and flung the rock at the men on the other
|
|
ship. The missile impacted solidly with one of the men with Kaar and
|
|
flailing his arms in surprise, he tumbled backwards.
|
|
Brushing the dirt off her hands, Muriel turned her back on the
|
|
speechless crew of the _Swift_Sparrow_ and retreated to mid-deck. "You
|
|
know, that felt good," she confided in Icath. "I wish I had another
|
|
rock. Who did I hit?"
|
|
"I think that was their physician," the first mate answered. "You
|
|
know Kaar will be mad as all hell over this."
|
|
"He started it."
|
|
Icath chuckled. "There was one dry rock in all of Shandayma and you
|
|
just threw it away."
|
|
"I wish I had another," Muriel muttered again.
|
|
"Ma'am, sir?" a sailor walked up to them. "A man on the _Sparrow_
|
|
just plunged in the water. He's swimming this way."
|
|
"Was it the one I hit?"
|
|
"I don't think so, Commander."
|
|
"Icath?"
|
|
"I'll check on him," the first mate nodded.
|
|
Muriel watched the two men leave, then sat down on a crate anchored
|
|
down on deck, watching other sailors gather at the steer-board of the
|
|
vessel as the swimmer was pulled on board. Through all this Icath stood
|
|
behind the men, arms folded, a furrowed brow, the corners of his mouth
|
|
giving his normally stern expression a tinge of evil. 'He's as mad as I
|
|
am,' she laughed to herself.
|
|
The _Swift_Sparrow_ held sail at a respectable distance, having
|
|
backed off after Muriel flung the rock. There were plenty of men on deck
|
|
watching the rescue. A half dozen or so held spears and a few more stood
|
|
by the sails. It was obvious they were worried about the man coming on
|
|
board.
|
|
When the swimmer finally appeared, Icath stepped forward. He said
|
|
something and the man answered. "You talk to me!" Icath yelled. The man
|
|
obviously refused.
|
|
Icath folded his arms, studying the man for a long time, then
|
|
turned and looked at his captain.
|
|
Muriel nodded for the man to be brought to her. He was dressed like
|
|
an officer and arrogantly pushed his way between the sailors gathered on
|
|
deck, following Icath. A full but neat beard hid his expression as he
|
|
made the short distance across deck.
|
|
"He refuses to talk to anyone but you, Commander," Icath reported.
|
|
Muriel set her jaw. "You will talk to my first officer."
|
|
"I was sent to talk to you." His voice was deep, sea-worn.
|
|
"Who are you?" Icath demanded.
|
|
"Answer him," Muriel said after seeing the answer was not going to
|
|
come.
|
|
"Lasiel Browin, pilot of the _Swift_Sparrow._"
|
|
Without warning, Icath spun, delivering a roundhouse punch to the
|
|
man's jaw, sending him down on deck. "Keep your distance, fish kisser,
|
|
or I'm going to break your neck!"
|
|
Muriel cast a stern look at her first mate, but said nothing. A
|
|
pair of sailors helped the man up.
|
|
"What did you want?"
|
|
He wiped the blood from his lip, turning his back to Icath.
|
|
"Captain Kaar sent me to ask that you come talk to him about urgent
|
|
matters."
|
|
"I have nothing to talk to Kaar about."
|
|
"I am to stay here until you are done, to ensure your safe return."
|
|
"What does he want to talk to me about?" Muriel demanded.
|
|
"I can't say," Lasiel answered.
|
|
"Try." Icath's hand clamped on the back of the helmsman's neck.
|
|
"Say it, or you're not walking off this ship alive."
|
|
"I don't know. I am here to tell you that it's urgent ... very
|
|
urgent, in fact."
|
|
Muriel glanced at Icath. "What do you think?"
|
|
He let the helmsman go. "Kaar must be pretty sore at you by now.
|
|
And so's half his crew."
|
|
"Captain Dainyn's safety is guaranteed," Lasiel assured.
|
|
"I'll talk to him," Muriel said. "Go signal him."
|
|
The mob of sailors on deck accompanied the man to complete the task
|
|
and Muriel turned to Icath. "I want you to grapple that ship and not let
|
|
go until I'm back. And I want a spear detail on deck. Everyone who's got
|
|
a sword wears it. Keep Lord Cinofrid and the Galician below."
|
|
"Yes, ma'am," Icath said and rushed away.
|
|
Muriel watched Lasiel signal the _Swift_Sparrow_ to approach and
|
|
the two ships again neared.
|
|
"Hold her steady," Muriel yelled to her own helmsman. "Let them do
|
|
all the work."
|
|
A pair of grappling irons came over the gunwale, then a pair more
|
|
flew in the other direction, securing the ships to one another. It took
|
|
a long time to narrow the gap between the vessels. When the commotion
|
|
settled down, Muriel approached Kaar, who stood on his ship, a mere
|
|
hand's reach away.
|
|
"What did you want?"
|
|
"Come on board."
|
|
"We can talk this way."
|
|
"I want you to talk with someone else. I don't want him on deck."
|
|
Muriel glanced back at Icath and her men holding the pilot of the
|
|
_Swift_Sparrow._
|
|
"No tricks," Kaar promised. "Please."
|
|
He extended his hand and she accepted it, first stepping across the
|
|
gunwale of her ship, then the gap between the vessels and finally over
|
|
the bulwark of the _Swift_Sparrow._ Kaar did not release her until she
|
|
was safely across.
|
|
"I wanted you to talk with my first mate," Kaar said as they left
|
|
the _Golden_Sword_ behind them. "Or rather, he wanted to talk to you and
|
|
I felt it was important that he does."
|
|
"He could have come on deck, or swam over himself," Muriel said.
|
|
"This charade you're creating is pointless."
|
|
"You will understand," Kaar said. He escorted Muriel below deck to
|
|
a large well lit and decorated stateroom where two other men waited. One
|
|
Muriel immediately recognized as the man she hit with the rock. The
|
|
other she did not know.
|
|
As Kaar and Muriel entered, the two men stood up and greeted their
|
|
guest.
|
|
"My first mate, Aldyn Kile Nephlan," Kaar introduced the tall
|
|
muscular man Muriel did not know, "and my physician, Lord Reuus
|
|
Merramnez."
|
|
"I am sorry, my lord," Muriel sighed as the physician faced her.
|
|
"Think nothing of it, my lady."
|
|
"Please, sit down," Kaar indicated to the chairs around a table
|
|
that took up most of the room.
|
|
Muriel chose her chair and the other men settled around her. Kaar
|
|
sat at her side, his first mate directly across from her and the
|
|
physician next to the first mate, opposite his captain.
|
|
"That man you fished out two days ago," Kaar said, "could you tell
|
|
us who he is?"
|
|
"That's all you brought me here for?"
|
|
"We suspect you may not realize who he is," Aldyn said.
|
|
"He is a Galician scholar," Muriel answered. "I didn't believe him,
|
|
but he had a long talk with Lord Cinofrid and if the Sage believes him,
|
|
that's good enough for me."
|
|
"Your scholar," Aldyn frowned, "is a Baranurian soldier." He paused
|
|
to let Muriel express her disbelief.
|
|
"Don't frown, Captain," Kaar advised. "Hear him out."
|
|
"Your scholar," Aldyn continued distastefully, "and I have somewhat
|
|
of a history. About ten days ago I was in the city, with some of the
|
|
men. We had two days in port and wanted to relax. We went to a tavern
|
|
and spent the day there and headed back in the evening. Just short of
|
|
the docks, we were assaulted by two men and a woman. The men with me
|
|
were killed. A man and the woman probably died. The survivor was the man
|
|
you fished out."
|
|
"I don't think so," Muriel shook her head. "He hasn't been in town
|
|
that long and he knows nothing of fighting."
|
|
"He knows plenty of fighting, I assure you," Aldyn said. "The men I
|
|
was with could swear to that, too, if they could. Perhaps a face to face
|
|
confrontation would prove it to you? I've been careful to avoid showing
|
|
my face on deck."
|
|
"You're mad," Muriel said. "He doesn't even speak Baranurian!"
|
|
"He speaks Baranurian," Aldyn said, "and if I'm right, his
|
|
Beinisonian is rather good, too."
|
|
"I don't think so," Muriel turned to Kaar.
|
|
"All the proof we have is two dead sailors and my first mate's
|
|
story. I doubt he killed those men himself. When our men returned to the
|
|
site of battle to pick up the bodies, it was a rather grisly scene. I
|
|
have no reason to question the story."
|
|
"All right," Muriel agreed, "if I let you on board and give you a
|
|
chance to talk to this Baranurian warrior, will your anxiety be
|
|
relieved?"
|
|
Aldyn nodded.
|
|
"It would," Kaar agreed. "And I won't bother you again."
|
|
"Kaar, you're not going to bother me again either way."
|
|
He laughed.
|
|
"Let's get it over with," Muriel got up. "If I know Icath, he's
|
|
boiling tar to throw at you by now."
|
|
The three men got up and followed her back on deck.
|
|
"I'll go over alone," Aldyn said to Kaar. "I'm sure there'll be no
|
|
risk. There are plenty of sailors on the _Sword._"
|
|
"Be careful nonetheless," Kaar instructed. "We'll cut the cables so
|
|
it doesn't arouse the Baranurian's suspicions ... if that's all right
|
|
with you, Captain Dainyn?"
|
|
"Perfectly all right," she responded, stopping at the bulwark of
|
|
Kaar's ship. "What kind of an idiot docks steer-board?" she paused,
|
|
looking at Icath, across the gap between the ships.
|
|
"We did, ma'am."
|
|
She shook her head and started her climb. "We're having a guest
|
|
join us, Icath. Don't hit him."
|
|
The first mate offered his captain help getting across while other
|
|
sailors aided the man following her.
|
|
"Icath Taryl," Muriel introduced her first mate, "Aldyn Kile
|
|
Nephlan, first mate of the _Swift_Sparrow._"
|
|
"Cut the lines," Kaar barked an order from the deck of his galleon.
|
|
"Release their grapples," Muriel ordered her men.
|
|
"What's this about?" Icath asked. He nervously took out his pipe
|
|
and started stuffing it with tobacco.
|
|
"Your fish is Baranurian," Aldyn said. "I'm here to prove it."
|
|
Icath skeptically folded his arms.
|
|
"They'll leave us alone after this," Muriel told him. "That alone
|
|
is worth it."
|
|
"And you just took his word for that, I'll bet," Icath muttered.
|
|
Muriel's expression darkened, but she did not respond. "Let the
|
|
pilot go," she yelled to her sailors. "Helmsman, pull us away, fore to
|
|
current!"
|
|
The _Golden_Sword_ slowly turned in the bay's current, facing the
|
|
delta of the Laraka and the tall winding spire above the keep in the
|
|
middle of the river.
|
|
"What's Cinofrid doing on deck?"
|
|
"He was curious," Icath explained, "and getting him to go below is
|
|
like asking the wind to turn."
|
|
"Sage," Muriel called the elderly man over. Both he and the
|
|
_Sparrow's_ pilot made their way over to her.
|
|
"My lady," the sage bowed. "It's a pleasure this morning."
|
|
"It's a pleasure every morning, my lord. I was wondering if you
|
|
still believe that the man we caught is a Galician scholar."
|
|
"Having discussed the arts of philosophy with him, I have to say
|
|
he's very learned -- and opinionated -- and seeing he only speaks
|
|
Galician, I can't imagine him to be anything but. I stand by my initial
|
|
statement."
|
|
"This gentleman here," Muriel indicated to the first officer of the
|
|
_Swift_Sparrow,_ "believes he's not."
|
|
"And never having seen this man, what do you base your claim on?"
|
|
the sage inquired.
|
|
"But I have seen this man before. I met him in battle ten days
|
|
ago."
|
|
"Then he will recognize you if he sees you?"
|
|
"That's what I hope to show."
|
|
"Do you just want him brought on deck?" Muriel asked.
|
|
"It would probably be easiest," Aldyn agreed.
|
|
"Marbin, bring the Galician up here," Muriel ordered one of the
|
|
sailors.
|
|
"Right away, Commander."
|
|
Lord Cinofrid sat down on a crate. "This will be an interesting
|
|
display whether you're right or not."
|
|
"I'm right," Aldyn eyed the sage. "I know I'm right."
|
|
Icath sat down by the sage. "Do you care to wager, my lord?"
|
|
"I suspect we'll be wagering on the same side," the sage leaned
|
|
over in mock whisper and both men laughed.
|
|
"Why don't you start talking to him and I'll walk over then," Aldyn
|
|
suggested. "I don't want to give him the advantage."
|
|
"Go," Muriel nodded and he departed, leaving her with Icath and
|
|
Cinofrid and Lasiel, the galleon's pilot.
|
|
"Listen," Icath said to the man standing by Muriel, "I'm sorry for
|
|
punching you. That was out of line."
|
|
"It's all right. We're all a little heated now," Lasiel said. "We
|
|
all follow orders."
|
|
"You hit him?" the sage asked.
|
|
"Right on the jaw," Icath agreed.
|
|
The sage shook his head.
|
|
"It's fine, my lord," Lasiel said. "It was a heated moment and I
|
|
was pretty pigheaded myself. I'll get over it. The teeth are fine."
|
|
"They're coming," Icath warned.
|
|
"Act normal."
|
|
"Commander?" two sailors stopped by the group, Rien between them.
|
|
Everyone turned to the scholar. "Good morning, Keegan," Muriel said
|
|
in Galician. "Take a seat."
|
|
"Commander," he greeted her cautiously, then did the same with
|
|
Icath and Cinofrid. When Icath stood up, he sat on the crate as
|
|
instructed by the woman captain.
|
|
"Rien Keegan, Lasiel Browin" Muriel made the introduction. "Lasiel
|
|
is with the Advocate General," she went on. "We have to ferry him down
|
|
coast and when I mentioned your adventure on the docks to him, he wanted
|
|
to know about that man you fought."
|
|
"He fought me," Rein corrected.
|
|
"Any description would help," Muriel said.
|
|
"He wore a helmet," Rien said thoughtfully, "but he had a light
|
|
brown beard ..."
|
|
"Would you be able to recognize him?" a voice sounded behind Rien.
|
|
Rien stood up and turned, his eyes narrowing at the site of the
|
|
_Swift_Sparrow's_ first mate. The expression on his face betrayed a
|
|
glimmer of angry recognition.
|
|
"... Because I recognize you!" the man yelled in Beinisonian and
|
|
grabbed Rien's tunic, pulling him close. "And once again, it's just you
|
|
and me."
|
|
Rien's arms instinctively came up to break the other man's hold on
|
|
him, but Aldyn gave him a shove.
|
|
"I don't know you," Rien struggled to sit up on the deck.
|
|
Icath and Lasiel helped Rien up, but did not release him.
|
|
"I don't think anyone here believes that," Aldyn said. He again
|
|
took Rien's tunic in his fist and pulled the supposed Galician forward,
|
|
against the grip of the men holding him. Rien grimaced as the chain of
|
|
his medallion tightened around his neck. "You ambushed and killed my
|
|
men," Aldyn went on. "In cold blood, with no mercy. You will answer for
|
|
these crimes." He gave Rien a rough shove, tearing his tunic and the
|
|
chain around his neck, letting the medal fall. "You will pay."
|
|
The medal fell to the deck, spinning about for a moment, echoing
|
|
the words.
|
|
"You!" Cinofrid suddenly stood up. He almost tripped on the folds
|
|
of his robe, stepping away from the crate. "You're the one!"
|
|
A small flame danced on the deck, around the now still medal and a
|
|
circle of mist rose around it.
|
|
|
|
A cloaked figure shifted in the settling darkness,
|
|
letting the wind wrap the black cloak around the body, with
|
|
just the very bottom of the hem playing with the wind. Waves
|
|
in the bay steadily licked at the pier, producing occasional
|
|
groaning sounds from the wood.
|
|
The man chuckled. It was done. It was done at a terrible
|
|
cost, but it was done. It was both for justice and victory.
|
|
"Deven?" another figure came on the pier. The man was
|
|
tall, dressed in light armor and wearing a sword. His long
|
|
blond hair blew in the wind, offering no resistance to the
|
|
elements. "Deven?"
|
|
The cloaked figure turned. "You saved the ship."
|
|
"Our deal was for the sage."
|
|
"It was for all of them. You liked the woman."
|
|
"I learned the enemy had heart and soul ... even the sage."
|
|
"You don't know the enemy." The cloaked man turned back
|
|
to the waves.
|
|
"It's time to go, Deven. We did all we could. Adrea's
|
|
dead. You had your revenge and I had mine."
|
|
The cloaked man turned again. "Death no longer satisfies
|
|
me. There is nothing I can take from them to make them feel as
|
|
empty as I do. There is nothing that they have that's as
|
|
valuable as what they took from me."
|
|
The armored man reached out, holding a medallion on a
|
|
chain out for the other. "It's over for now."
|
|
The cloaked figure moved near, accepting the offering
|
|
with a pale hand. "This symbol will yet burn in the hearts and
|
|
minds of those who defied it, of those who had not the courage
|
|
to stand up for what was right. The empire will bow to the
|
|
name Yasarin."
|
|
A distant flash of lightning cut across the now dark sky
|
|
somewhere off in the distance and a rumble of rolling thunder
|
|
suppressed the sound of the surf.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
REPOST: FIRST CALL FOR VOTES (of 2)
|
|
unmoderated group rec.mag.dargon
|
|
|
|
Newsgroups line:
|
|
rec.mag.dargon DargonZine fantasy fiction emag issues and discussion.
|
|
|
|
Votes must be received by 23:59:59 UTC, 1 November 1994.
|
|
|
|
After this CFV appears on news.announce.newgroups it will be sent to
|
|
the mailing list <Dargon-L@Brownv> Dargon Project writers' group and
|
|
the DargonZine readership as a whole. The posting will be clearly
|
|
labelled as a "repost" of a CFV in news.announce.newgroups.
|
|
|
|
This vote is being conducted by a neutral third party. For voting
|
|
questions only contact rdippold@qualcomm.com. For questions about the
|
|
proposed group contact Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@wonky.jjm.com>
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHARTER
|
|
|
|
Rec.mag.dargon will be used both for the distribution of DargonZine, an
|
|
electronic magazine, and also for open public discussion of the
|
|
magazine's content.
|
|
|
|
DargonZine prints fiction produced by aspiring amateur writers who are
|
|
members of the Dargon Project, which has been active since 1985. Dargon
|
|
Project stories are all set in a shared medieval fantasy setting (a la
|
|
"Thieves' World"). "Dargon" refers to the town and surrounding lands
|
|
where most stories take place, as well as the surname of the area's
|
|
ruling family. DargonZine has worldwide distribution. Email
|
|
subscriptions can be obtained from <dargon@wonky.jjm.com>.
|
|
|
|
Starting with the existing newsgroup rec.mag.fsfnet, the proposal should
|
|
be thought of in two parts: removal of the existing moderation, and
|
|
renaming the newsgroup. Although there are two distinct changes taking
|
|
place, they will be voted on as a single proposal.
|
|
|
|
Rec.mag.fsfnet was originally created with the intent to serve solely as
|
|
a moderated distribution vehicle for issues. At present, the only
|
|
articles posted to the newsgroup are issues of DargonZine as they are
|
|
published. However, the Dargon Project writers would like to remove the
|
|
moderation from the newsgroup so that it can be opened up for reader
|
|
feedback and exchange of opinions and ideas between the readership and
|
|
the writers.
|
|
|
|
However, we would also like to take this opportunity to change the name
|
|
of the newsgroup. The Dargon Project first began publishing stories in
|
|
FSFnet, an electronic magazine that ran from 1984 through 1988, during
|
|
which time the newsgroup rec.msg.fsfnet was created. When FSFnet's
|
|
editor graduated and left the network, the new editor began putting out
|
|
issues under the name DargonZine. Because FSFnet has been defunct for
|
|
over five years it is appropriate that we change the newsgroup name to
|
|
something more recognizable. Our readers would immediately associate
|
|
rec.mag.dargon with the Dargon Project and DargonZine.
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOW TO VOTE
|
|
|
|
Send MAIL to: voting@qualcomm.com
|
|
|
|
Your mail message should contain one of the following statements:
|
|
I vote YES on rec.mag.dargon
|
|
I vote NO on rec.mag.dargon
|
|
|
|
You may also ABSTAIN in place of YES/NO - this will not affect the
|
|
outcome. Anything else may be rejected by the automatic vote counting
|
|
program. The votetaker will respond to your received ballots with a
|
|
personal acknowledgement by mail - if you do not receive one within
|
|
several days, try again. It's your responsibility to make sure your
|
|
vote is registered correctly.
|
|
|
|
One vote counted per person, no more than one per account. Addresses and
|
|
votes of all voters will be published in the final voting results list.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|