Ironcrown Moon (29 page)

“As for horses,” the fellow continued with lugubrious relish, “ye won’t have an easy time gettin‘

anything first-rate. Town’s all skimble-

skamble, with a grand hunt on for a pair of scoundrelly Zeth Brothers who set Gala Palace on fire and like to killed the High King’s brother. Word came to Count Ollie late yesterday to beat the bushes for ’em hereabouts, and his captains have commandeered damn near every sound nag in the city to mount search parties. Maybe ye could hire a wagon—”

Felmar uttered a falsetto squall. “No, no, the track to Mother’s croft is too steep for wheels. We need horses to get there. Hoddo, do

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something! We can’t keep standing here in the rain!”

Scarth patted his mate’s hand and said, “Now, now, Juby. Calm down, lambykin, or you’ll drop that babe of your’n afore its time.”

The idler screwed up his face in an orgy of concentration. “Lemme think now. There might be one place still with a mount or two left to sell. If I could just recall…”

Scarth gave a grunt of disgust and pulled a silver penny from his belt-wallet. “Does this jog your memory?”

The one-eyed man smirked. “No—but add another and the name’s bound to come to mind.”

Without a word, Scarth pressed two coins into the dirty outstretched palm.

“Bo Hern’s stable. Follow the Quay Road a quarter league to the north edge of town, nigh unto the Mountain Gate. Old Bo sells donkeys and mules. Good for ridin‘ in rough country. And he has saddles and tack, too.” The rascal tugged his forelock. “Luck to ye, master and mistress.”

“Is there an inn or cookshop near the stable where we might get something to eat?” Scarth asked.

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“Bo’s wife can fix you up. Otherwise there’s the Rusty Gudgeon tavern acrost the way—but some say they use cat meat in their pasties.”

The one-eyed man ambled off, ignoring the rain.

“I vote for Bo’s place,” Felmar said. “We can’t hang about here any longer.”

Scarth hoisted the bundle to his shoulder and they set off along the waterfront. “Mules aren’t a bad idea, Fel, They’re not fast, but a good one is more reliable on a bad track than a horse. Our map shows that it’s fifteen leagues or so to the gorge mouth, and most of the way is twistier than earthworm guts. Then almost an equal distance to the cave, over a miserable sheep trail. We’re in for a rotten time of it if we press on. Maybe we should stop at the stable for the night and start out early tomorrow.”

“No,” said Felmar emphatically. “We’re well rested. All we need is a meal and some food and drink to take with us. And I’ve got to shed this wicker birdcage tied to my belly! I’ll keep the rest of the woman’s garb till we’re well away from the city, but there’s no way I can ride wearing this futterin‘ thing.”

“It’s raining harder,” Scarth said. “We could at least wait a few hours to see if it stops.”

“We’ve got to move on. I don’t like the feel of this town. There are alchymists up in Elktor Castle and other windvoices prowling about with the searchers. I can sense them! Thus far, our spell of couverture is holding firm, but something’s not right. I almost feel as though we’ve been overseen. Right through the bloody cover.”

“I won’t say you’re imagining things,” said Scarth, “since you’ve got more talent than I do. But if the Brethren did have a windeye on us, Lord Elktor’s guardsmen would have met us at the ferry dock and clapped us in irons.”

“The windwatching—if that’s what it was—wasn’t done Zeth-style.” Fel-mar was silent for a few minutes. They splashed on through spreading puddles, paying no attention to the occasional beggar who whined from a doorway. Most of those walking along the quay were seamen, some with giggling doxies on their arms. Half a block ahead, a hanging sign with a lion’s head designated a good-sized inn.

Unattached sailors were heading towards it like iron filings to a magnet, but the two disguised Brothers tramped on past, steeling themselves against the scent of brown ale and roasting mutton. It was not a place where poor countryfolk, such as they were supposed to be, would be welcomed.

“There’s another strange thing,” Felmar said, after a time.

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“What?”

“While I was sleeping off and on in the ferry, I had the most unsettling dreams. About the things we took from the Royal Alchymist’s crypt. Noises would wake me up, but when I slept again the same dream always returned. This happened three, maybe four times.”

Scarth stopped short with his mouth open in dismay. A single drop of rain hung at the tip of his long nose. “You know what? I had strange dreams, too. I’d forgotten. I only remember bits and pieces, but I think I dreamed of Lord Kilian. Something about him frightened me, but I can’t for the life of me think what.”

Felmar tugged his friend’s arm. “Keep walking… I dreamed that when we finally brought these moonstones and books to him, he laughed like a fiend and called us idiots for never suspecting how valuable the things are, for not realizing that we could have used them to become the most powerful sorcerers in the world!”

“I don’t remember anything like that. But I think I do recall Lord Kilian laughing at me.”

“Think about it, Scarth. We agreed to risk our lives stealing this mysterious collection of arcana for him. He told us the sigils predated

Bazekoy’s invasion, that they were ancient magical tools able to conjure the power of the Beaconfolk, and only Beynor of Moss could bring them to life. He said that Beynor had sworn an unbreakable oath, promising to share the activated stones with him and us. Kilian claimed he had a foolproof way to prevent Beynor from playing us false. But what if his talk of the Mossland conjurer was only a red herring, intended to distract us from the truth?”

“What truth?”

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“It stands to reason that Kilian didn’t know how to conjure these moonstones while he lived in Gala Palace and kept them hidden. But what if he’s since learned how to do so, perhaps by studying some long-forgotten materials in the abbey? He’s had access to the great library throughout his four-year confinement. What if the method for activating the sigils is contained in the two books that were in the cabinet with them? They’re written in a strange language, you know.”

“Do you mean that Kilian might have been unable to read the books before—but now he can?”

Felmar shook his head uncertainly. “My dream seemed to hint at something else. I can’t remember what. All I’m really sure of is that we’ve both been deceived. I’m starting to suspect that if we give these things meekly over to Kilian, he won’t bother sharing them with us. In fact, we may be lucky to escape with our lives!”

Scarth’s heavy jaw hardened in growing anger. “Brother, if I hadn’t had my own dreams about Kilian, I’d deny your conclusion with my dying breath. He had me completely persuaded. But now… I think you may be right about the danger. I feel like a fool.”

“I was taken in, too,” Felmar muttered, “as well as poor dead Vitubio. Even wearing the iron gammadion, Kilian Blackhorse is a consummate wizard. He converted Prior Waringlow, the greatest intellect in the abbey, to his cause. It’s no wonder we were taken in.”

They walked in silence for some time. There were fewer people on the streets as the rain intensified and the air grew more chilly. The small shops, brothels, and drinking establishments were thinning out as they neared the great wall at the northern end of the city, giving way to shuttered wool warehouses, empty and deserted at this time of year. When a sheltered alcove presented itself, Felmar discarded his artificial pregnancy, wrapping the arcana that had been concealed inside the basketry in his apron and tucking the bundle securely under his arm.

While the smaller man was rearranging his cloak, Scarth said, “Have you any notion what we should do now? I’m damned if I’ll simply keep heading for that cave in the gorge where Kilian’s
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waiting.”

They began to walk again. Felmar said, “I’m trying to think. We’ve got to get up into the mountains quickly, that’s for certain. The masses of rock will help foil windsearchers—whoever they may be. North of the city, the road forks. To the left is the steep shepherd’s path that we were supposed to follow to Roaring Gorge. To the right is a better track that leads eastward to Beorbrook Hold and the Great

North Road. It winds through desolate moors and foothills, but avoids the most rugged part of the mountains.”

“You think we ought go that way?” Scarth was dubious.

“Only for a short distance, until we find a suitable place to go to ground. You and I must do some heavy thinking about our future.”

“Look there.” Scarth pointed ahead. “It’s the wall and the northern city gate. We’re almost to Bo Hern’s stable. I hope to God the goodwife’s willing to feed us. All this scary talk’s made me peckish.”

Felmar chuckled. “If we’re going to die tonight, let’s hope we can at least do it with full stomachs.”

“You don’t think we’ve much of a chance then?”

“I’m not so sure about that. You know, Scarth, we were so busy fleeing King Conrig’s men that we never had a chance to look closely at the things we stole. I think it’s high time we did, don’t you?”

eleven

The abrupt blast of powerful wind came out of nowhere, just as Kilian was congratulating himself on having successfully guided the cattle-boat single-handedly to the mouth of Roaring Gorge. Earlier, the unsuspecting skipper had told him about the tricky route through the gravel bars at the lake-head, and how important it was to stay in the middle of the channel.

In a light, fair breeze, Kilian had navigated well enough. But the sudden freakish blast turned the boat toward the shallows. The keel

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon grated alarmingly on loose stones, and the five horses began to squeal with fright and pull against their ties.

He tried to correct the course with a quick thrust of the rudder and a tug on the lugsail brace, but he’d misjudged the potential contrariness of the clumsy boat in a strong wind. It yawed, charged toward the opposite side of the channel, struck a submerged rock, and slewed about wildly. The sail flapped like thunder, the deck tilted, and two of the horses were thrown down.

“Futterin‘ hell!” the alchymist cursed. The damned wind might capsize them unless—

He seized a small axe from a bracket on the side of the cockpit, clambered onto the angled deck, clawed his way toward the mast, and severed the halyard ropes. The lugsail, yard, and rigging tumbled down, causing further panic among the horses, but at least the wind no long threatened to push them over and the deck came level again. Avoiding flying hooves, he made his way to the bow and heaved out both anchors. One of the chains went taut and the boat swung about. With a piercing squawk, the hull came free of the rock and scraped along more gently into gravelly shoals before grounding in about three feet of water. As suddenly as it had risen, the gale fell off.

The horses calmed, and so did the alchymist. Amazingly, none of the animals had been injured by the falling yard. The ones that had lost their footing rose amidst the tangle of canvas and rope and stood trembling and blowing. Several pieces of baggage had tumbled from the cabin roof onto the deck, but the four Brothers sleeping up there appeared to be safe. With groans and a few muttered oaths, they threw off the pieces of tarred cloth that had sheltered them from the
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elements and stared wide-eyed at Kilian.

“Stop gawking,” he ordered. “Pull yourselves together, get down here on deck, and give me a hand with this mess. We’ve arrived.”

“What happened?” Raldo mumbled in bewilderment. The impact had rolled him like a human ball, crushing him against the row of saddles.

“Why are we still so far out in the water?” Niavar wanted to know. “I thought the skipper was going to bring the boat close to shore.”

“Where the skipper?” Cleaton asked. “And the rest of the crew?”

is

Young Garon surveyed the bleak panorama of encompassing cliffs, the Whitewater of the Elk River rushing from the gorge mouth, the stony beach, and the weeping grey sky. He knew very well that their vessel had gone aground and was unlikely to move again, and even entertained suspicions about the missing boatmen. Shaking his head, he silently started down the ladder.

After a few minutes, the others followed. Raldo came last, after pulling his jerkin closed and buttoning it. He never noticed that the iron gammadion and chain had fallen from his pocket and draped itself inconspicuously around one of the roof stanchions.

“I regret to tell you that our crew deserted us during the night,” Kilian said.

Three of the Brothers reacted with astonishment. “But why would they do that?” Niavar asked.

Kilian said, “Late yesterday, the captain attempted to back out of our agreement to land in the vicinity of Roaring Gorge. He claimed it was too hazardous and told me he intended to put in at Elktor Quay instead. Its lights were visible in the mist by then, over on the eastern shore.

Naturally I told him it was out of the question. He demanded a huge sum of money to fulfill his part of the bargain. I realize now that he was all but asking me to purchase his boat outright.

When he remained adamant, I finally agreed and turned over to him almost all of the gold I received from Queen Cataldis. Then I settled down in the cockpit with him to make certain that he kept his promise.

Unfortunately, I fell asleep. When I woke, I discovered that the tiller was lashed and the captain and his men were missing. They seem to have gone away in those two coracles that were fastened on either side of the deckhouse. We were only a league or two away from land.”