The Southern Trail (Book 4) (31 page)

He ran short of alum, but the shopkeeper sent him to a different store to borrow some.  And in the meantime, people came to the dry goods shop, asked what Marco was doing, and started asking for various solutions to problems.  When the shop keeper came to tell Marco he was closing the store for lunch time, Marco mentioned the requests.

“Could you help them?” the man asked him curiously.

“With the things you have here, I could probably do about half of them,” Marco gave a considered answer.

“If there’s some money to be made, I’ll split the profits with you if you can fill some of those orders,” the man proposed.

Marco considered the idea.  He found he was enjoying the routine duties of mixing and sifting and grinding and filtering.  The need to focus on his alchemy had allowed him to push other matters into the background, matters like Ellersbine and Argen, and he appreciated not having to think about the complexity of their mixed-up three-way relationship.

“I’ll stay until midafternoon,” Marco agreed.  “I’ve got to get back to the inn this afternoon to spread the bug killer though, so I can’t stay too long,” he explained.  Using the bug killer in the basement of the inn was going to give Marco the supply of centipedes he needed to add strength to the wind powder that was the next stage in his complicated bartering of services.  Yet if he could sell a few powders and potions to earn some cash, he’d feel more comfortably prepared for whatever the next stage of his journey would bring.

And so, by mid-afternoon, Marco left the shop carrying the provisions he had worked to create, along with several coins in the purse on his belt.  When he got back to the inn he did not see either Argen or Ellersbine, so he went to the basement and crawled around among the cellar storerooms and crawlspaces, using his right hand to illuminate the darkness as he sprinkled the insect killer around the interior perimeter of the building.  Once he was finished, he rested briefly, then began the grubby duty of going around again to collect the centipedes he needed for the final step in the process of making the wind powder.

By the time Marco emerged from the basement he was filthy and sore and tired.  The sun was setting, and he went to a work room in the back of the inn to work alone at grinding the centipede legs into the wind powder.  When he was done, he gave a clap of celebration.

He felt itchy with dirt, so he went to the bath house and cleaned himself up, then went to find Ellersbine and Argen for dinner.  He was puzzled as he saw that the band of energy connecting him to the princess was thinner and wispier than he remembered, and for some reason it extended out of the door of the inn, instead of to her room.

That’s when he learned that his two companions had left the city already, without him, on a ship that had left the docks and started to float down the river shortly before noon.

Chapter 25

“You’re telling me that Ellersbine and Argen are already sailing down the river?” Marco repeated his question for the innkeeper when he received the news.

“Yes sir.  They said you’d repay me for the money they borrowed to pay for their passage.  That’s four silvers you owe me,” the innkeeper told Marco.

“And the lady left this note for you,” he added, handing Marco a folded piece of paper.

Marco walked away from the innkeeper, stunned by the news.  He sat down absently at a table and stared vacantly into space.  He could not fathom the idea that Ellersbine had run away from him.  He sat and tried to comprehend what could have happened in his absence.

At last he looked at the piece of paper in his hand, and as he raised it, he realized that his hand was trembling.  He took a deep breath, then opened the paper, looked at the feminine handwriting, and received another shock, as he realized he had not learned how to read the Docleatean language.  Though Lady Iasco had transplanted knowledge of the language into his brain, she had only taught him to speak and understand, but not how to read nor write.

He had to know what the note said.  He had to find someone who would read it to him.  He raised his head and looked at the innkeeper.  The man was not someone Marco wanted to reveal any more information to regarding his mixed up love life.

The shopkeeper’s wife made perfect sense!  She was someone who had seen Ellersbine.  She was someone he would never have to see again.  And she was a woman; he’d feel more comfortable hearing Ellersbine’s words spoken in a woman’s voice.

He stood abruptly and hurried out of the inn, then ran to the dry goods shop.  Once he reached his destination he grew suddenly confused and shy; he stood in the street for five minutes while he worked up the renewed courage to reveal his lost romance.  Realizing that the longer he waited the harder the request would be, Marco forced himself to climb the gray wooden steps to the upstairs apartment and forcefully knock on the door.

"Marco, the babies are fine - the best they've ever been it seems, really.  Thank you," the busy mother told him with a smile.  Marco could hear the children in the background.

"I've come to ask a favor," Marco told her.  He held the note out in front of him.  "Can you read this to me?  I don't know how," he admitted.

"Gracious, Marco, of course I can read it for you," she said as she reached out and took the folded slip of paper.  The wife unfolded the paper and examined it, then her eyes rose to search Marco's face.  "Oh my," she said softly.  She pressed Marco out onto the landing in front of her door, followed him out, and closed the door behind herself.

"My dearest Marco," she began in a quiet, compassionate voice, "you are the most incredible man I've ever met, and you've stirred my heart with your attention.

"But Argen has the first right to my attention, and it would be unfair if I were to disregard my engagement to him just to satisfy my own desires.  I know you say his friendliness and kindness are short-lived, but the way he treats me now is so genuine that I want to believe it will last," the woman's voice momentarily broke with emotion, and Marco could see her eyes were shiny with moisture.

"Argen and I are leaving together, to return to Foulata to be married as soon as possible.  Please do not follow, for if I saw you again I'm not sure I could resist the comfort of your embraces.  You are the greatest man I've ever met, and I hope you find the greatest joy possible.  Lovingly yours, Ellersbine."

The woman looked at Marco and started to cry as she handed the letter back to him.  "I am so sorry for you Marco.  I know that when you're young this can seem devastating."

"Thank you," Marco answered as he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket.  "I've got to go find her," he said simply.  He fled down the stairs without another word and walked back to the inn deep in thought.  When he got there he gave the innkeeper a few coins to repay the money lent to Ellersbine and her companion, then went up to his room and restlessly tossed and turned for a long time before he fell asleep.

When Marco awoke early the next morning he packed his meager collection of belongings, then went down to the dining room.  He'd not eaten dinner the night before, he realized, and he sat grimly eating bread and cold porridge as he thought about what lay ahead of him.  He would have a faster ship than Ellersbine and Argen, he knew, thanks to the powder he carried with him.  He'd catch up with his quarry in a matter of days, and then...

He wasn't sure what would come next.  He wasn't going to challenge or battle or fight with Argen, nor was he going to seize Ellersbine’s affection forcefully.  But he was going to be with her again before they arrived in Foulata, and then stay with her until Lady Iasco or Fate dictated otherwise.

"Thank you for your help," the innkeeper told Marco as he passed the front desk.  "If you come back this way in a few months, I'll use your services again.  The cook is already happier to see the pesties gone."

Marco nodded and departed, then headed directly to the docks and the ship where Captain Sonnen had agreed to take Marco aboard if his wind powder worked.  "I knew a fellow who ran a ship up north when he was young, and he told me about this powder, but I never expected to see it myself all the way down here in the back water of the kingdom."

"I've got your powder," Marco told the captain when he reached the sailing ship's berth at the riverside docks.

"We'll be ready to leave in three hours," the captain told Marco in response, as he kept his eye on the cargo being stowed in the shallow hull of the river boat.  "Just cool your heels and wait out of the way."

"We won't leave immediately?" Marco asked, crestfallen.

"Not 'til we have our cargo.  That's how we make our money, youngster.  Now get along," he directed as he turned to more pressing duties.

Marco returned to the dock, then spent his time walking up and down the docks trying to find out what ship Ellersbine and Argen had taken.

"Captain Cluvy took two passengers down to Tabora," one stevedore told Marco.  "It's about a nine day journey."

Marco remembered the name of the city when his two former companions had known a nobleman, Crassten, who they thought might help them reach Foulata.  They hadn't seemed to consider Crassten a completely trustworthy person to rely on, he recollected.

After that, Marco sat on the deck by his own blue-hulled sailing ship and waited for the endless loading process to finally come to an eventual end.

When the last sacks, crates, and chests were on board, and Marco had a spot out of the way of the crew, the captain ordered the lines to be cast off, and the ship was pushed away from the docks with poles.  The crew immediately settled oars into braces on the railing, and they maneuvered their way out into the main current of the river.

"Where's our alchemist?" the captain bellowed loudly, even though he knew where Marco was.

He's making it a spectacle, Marco thought to himself as he wove his way across the deck and presented himself to the captain.

"Men, raise the sails!" Captain Sonnen ordered.  Minutes later, with the limp canvas lagging lifelessly in the still air, he turned to Marco.  "Alright!  Bring us a breeze, or go overboard!"

Marco had his powder ready.  Though he had prepared dozens of batches of the powder during his time with Algornia in the Lion City shop, he'd never actually put the product to use.

He strode to the back of the ship, took a large pinch from the leather pouch he was using, and looked up at the blue sky overhead.  "Help me Lord; let it work!" he uttered a quick, quiet prayer, then tossed the powder as high as he could, and waited.

The results occurred within a few seconds.  Marco felt a breeze on his face; the breeze grew stronger, and he heard the sails start to ripple and snap.  The boat gave a sudden leap forward, making Marco grab onto the rail as the crew gave a cheer, and he turned to see the crewmen laughing and pointing at him.

"You're their hero!" the captain told him as them met amidships.  "They all imagine that there won't be any need for the oars as long as you can conjure up a nice stiff breeze like this, and there's nothing a river sailor hates more than hours on the oars.

"Just stay out of the way for a while now," the captain cautioned, and he left Marco to return to the ship's bow so he could direct their course along the river channel.

Marco’s breeze stayed active until nightfall, when it faltered away.  "That's perfect," the captain had told him.  "We don't want to be moving too fast at night, when the watchman needs to make sure we stay in the channel and away from the snags."

Marco slept on the deck that night, enjoying the sounds of the river as they passed along their course.  The next day he threw another pinch in the air, and the ship sailed along happily once again.

"How much of that powder do you have?" the captain asked Marco at the start of the third day.

Marco opened his pouch and considered what he saw.  "Maybe three more days’ worth; maybe four," be reported.

He could see the captain calculating the conditions of the river ahead.  "That'll work fine,"  he decided.  "We have a couple of stretches where we're better off going slower through the fens and around the sand banks.  Use a pinch today, then save it for the next day or two," he ordered.

And so Marco became a villain of sorts the next day, when the crew grew anxious in the morning as he failed to throw a pinch of powder in the air, and the captain ordered the oars lifted into place. The sailors had concluded that they'd have no rowing to do on the whole trip, and Marco's failure to produce a breeze was a rude return to the reality of their jobs.  They sullenly complied, but the day was a long one of hard work rowing the ship as it entered a shallow, sandy region of multiple channels that wove among sandy bars and banks.

Some unknown member of the unhappy crew took matters into his own hands the next morning,  early, before sunrise.  When Marco awoke, the ship was careening madly through the waters, and the captain was shouting  orders at his loudest volume, trying to get the crew to take the sails down while also trying to keep the ship from running aground.

"What did you do?" the officer screamed at Marco when he quickly arose and stumbled forward.

"Me?  I didn't do anything!" Marco protested.

"This isn't natural," the captain told him between orders to the crew.  "There's never any wind in this stretch of the River."

Marco went back to his pack to check on his wind powder, not knowing what else to do.  And that’s when he discovered that the pouch of powder was missing from his pack.

Chapter 26

Marco ran back to the captain, struggling to stay upright as the wind-lashed ship moved wildly through the strong winds and the shifting channel.

"Someone's taken my powder," he reported to the captain.

"That's just what I'd expect from a lazy bunch of sailors," the captain growled angrily.  "Someone didn’t want to row again today, so he used your powder, not knowing what a mess he'd create."