Fire And Ice (Book 1) (39 page)

             
Ruan chuckled.  “From what I have heard from Shirri and Soelidin I might dispute that, but you will have an army.  There are nearly three thousand of us scattered among the hills”

             
Coran had seen the ones here.  Most were women, old men and boys.  “How many who can actually fight?”

             
Ruan seemed to understand what he was asking.  “Three thousand, like I said.  That is not counting the women and those too young or too old.  I would not include anyone who could not be counted on in a fight.”  He didn’t sound upset at being doubted, only pleased to be of help.

             
Shirri seemed to share his doubt.  “How did you gather so many so soon?” she demanded of her brother.  “They must be from as far away as the mountains.”              

Ruan looked embarrassed and stared at the fire instead of meeting her eyes.  “I told them that there would be someone to lead them.”

              Shirri glanced at Coran and her voice rose as she took a step towards her brother.  Her hands were clenched in fists at her sides.  “You did not!  Tell me you did not!”

             
“Not that,” he assured his sister quickly holding up his hands before him in defense.  “I only told them what I just told you.”

             
“And let them believe what they believe,” she said scornfully.  “How could you!”

             
Coran thought about asking what they were talking about, but Miko’s hand on his arm restrained him.  He remembered Miko’s warning about getting involved when it came to beliefs.

             
“We will speak of this later,” Shirri told her cringing brother.

             
Whatever it was about she meant it when she said later.  The subject was not brought up again in front of Coran.  They ate some bread baked that morning as they told Ruan the tale of their adventure in Lornth and with the Northerners.  He appeared impressed by the story.  Particularly Coran’s plan to disable the fleet. 

             
Finally, they succumbed to weariness and went to seek the blankets Ruan had provided for them.  He promised to tell him as soon as they had any word about a ship from Crecy.

             
Coran lay on his back and stared up at the stars.  The night was chilly and he pulled the blankets up to his chin.  Could it be autumn already?  He would have to ask Miko.  He tried to remember the layout of the town from his last visit, but he hadn’t really seen very much of it.  He had been concentrating on being stopped by the guards at the time.  If Ruan was any indication of the men he had gathered, then three thousand might not be enough.

             
He went to sleep thinking of Katelyn.  He wondered if the image he held in his mind of her would fade with time.  He knew that his mother’s had.  It had terrified him when his memory  of her started to become fuzzy, then fade away.  He had never told anyone about that. So far Katelyn’s image remained clear and strong. 

              Something touched his shoulder and he grumbled without looking.  The touch came again, more strongly this time, and his eyes popped open.  Ruan knelt beside him.  The sky over the man’s shoulder and to the east was a grayish blue that announced the approaching dawn.

             
“There is a ship,” the Karand said simply, and Coran came fully awake as the words registered in his sleepy brain.

             
He threw aside the blankets and followed Ruan to the fire that was burning a few feet away.  Miko was still rolled up in his blankets.  Shirri was sleeping under one of the make-shift shelters next to Neheya. 

             
Coran knelt by the fire and rubbed his hands together to warm them after the cold night.  “What ship?” 

             
“A Midian ship, it is docked in the harbor,” he reported excitedly.  “Probably here to collect a cargo.”

             
“I thought the harbor would be closed by now?”

             
“It is.  Some trader must have made a deal and paid to see it through.  A little money in the right hands and any ship can dock,” he grimaced.  “Besides, the Shiomi think Midians are preferable to those of us who follow She’al.”

             
“I need to contact the captain of that ship,” he announced. 

             
Ruan rubbed his chin.  “That will be difficult.  Even if you are successful in entering the city, they will not let you leave.”

             
“Even an Anagassi?  Won’t that hold them off?”  After all, it had worked before.                

             
“That might give you enough time to meet with the captain, but they will only send for reinforcements to stop you from leaving.”

             
If it got him in and let him send the information he had to try it.  He would worry about leaving when the time came  “I will risk it.”

             
Ruan squirmed uncomfortably.  “If you do this you will be killed.  Or at the least, you will be captured.”  His fear of that was evident.

             
“I won’t tell them about you or what you are planning if they do manage to capture me, but I don’t intend to be taken alive.  I have no choice in this.  Summerhall must get this information.”  He said it forcefully.  He would not be swayed from his duty.  “Now I need some paper and ink.  Does anyone here have any?”

             
“I do not think so,” Ruan began then stopped.  “Wait.”  He ran off and returned quickly carrying two pieces of parchment, an ink bottle, and a pen.  “Neheya had these,” he explained.  “I told her you needed them.”

             
Coran thanked the man.  He could see where the previous message had been scratched off the parchment to be reused again.  He wrote the first letter and then set it aside to dry.  The parchment didn’t hold the ink as well as paper did.  The second letter was a lot harder for him.  The words he wanted to put down just didn’t sound right no matter how he tried.  Finally, he just wrote the best he could and hoped it would do. 

             
Ruan brought him a sandy white cloth for wrapping around his head.  “If you are set on going I can at least help a little.”  The young Karand offered a weak smile.  “I fear my sister will be angry with me for not letting her know you are going, but I am used to it.”

             
Coran glanced to where Miko still slept, and then around the camp.  Only a few people were stirring at this early hour.  An older woman and a young girl carried a couple of pots to  where water flowed out of the rocks, then proceeded to fill them.   The sky to the east was noticeably brighter.  The sun would be above the horizon soon.  Miko might try and stop him or insist on going too if he knew.  Well, maybe not.  Miko had a good deal of sense and it made no sense for him to go. 

             
Coran wrapped the cloth around his head with the confidence gained from many weeks of practice.  He checked to make sure the letters he had written were dry enough so they wouldn’t smear before folding them up and tucking them inside his shirt along with the map.  He took the curved blade that Ruan offered him and hung it from the off white cloth he used for a belt.  Ready to leave he studied Ruan standing with his arms crossed and a worried expression on his face.  “It will be all right Ruan.”  The Karand nodded uncertainly.  “While I am gone you can start preparing your people.”

             
“What do you want me to do?” Ruan asked.

             
“If you have any experienced fighters, have them take the others in groups to train.  Do the same with any archers.”  Coran looked around at all those who would not be taking part in the actual fighting.  “If you have someone who knows how to make arrows show some of the women and the older men how to do it.”

             
“I will,” Ruan assured him.

             
Coran shook the young man’s hand before turning his back and leaving through the narrow passage.  He was pretty sure he could find his way by himself now.

              The west gate of the city of Crecy was almost exactly like the one he used to leave the place the last time.  There were no actual gates, just a break in an area of the cracked, white walls.  Like last time there were green clad guards lounging against the walls.  They didn’t even notice him until he was almost on top of them.  They jumped up in surprise and reached for their weapons until they noticed how he was dressed.  Fear blossomed on their faces.  Coran forced himself to ignore them and walk past, the whole time his hand itched for the hilt of the sword at his hip.  As he walked away he had an uncomfortable feeling between his shoulder blades.  One of the guards waited until he was gone, then ran down the street towards the town’s center.  On his way to get help just like Ruan predicted.  All Coran needed was a little time.

             
There were more people in the streets than he remembered.  They all wore the same hopeless expression as before.  A few raised their eyes as he passed and he could see defiance underlining the despair.  How they must have hated their current masters.  That gave Coran some hope.  If they could be persuaded to rise up in rebellion at the same time that Ruan’s men attacked they might just succeed.  

             
He did his best to ignore the two men guarding the harbor gate as well.  They licked their lips nervously as he passed and looked behind him for any sign of assistance.  Seeing none, or not enough, they made no move to bar his way.  He was sure he was being followed.

             
He found the building he recognized as the one the Ithanians were coming out of the last time he was here.  It had no sign to identify what it contained.  Under closer scrutiny he noticed some differences from the other buildings around it.  The wood appeared to be worn and dirty, but there were no splits in the boards, or spaces between them to signify neglect.  He got the feeling that he was supposed to see a building as neglected as the others.  Curious, he pulled the door open and went in.

             
Sunlight flooded the room from a large window set in the opposite wall, the one that did not face the street but rather an open yard lined by storage buildings.  A few lanterns sat on square tables along the outer walls.  Two long tables with benches filled the center of the place.   Boisterous Midians in various shirts and pants, and a couple in dark coats, sat on the benches drinking.  He counted eight of what had to be crewmen from the ship in the harbor.  A counter ran across one side of the place and behind that a tall, thin man wiped out the inside of a mug.  He must be the owner and, surprisingly, was a Midian.  After a minute of thinking, it made more sense.  A Midian would not want to be seen owning a dilapidated business so would keep it up as best he could, but would still feel the need to fit in to his surroundings just the same.  The only other person in the place was a man sitting by himself at one of the tables.  He had curly hair and a modest beard, both touched with gray.  Coran knew the man.  He was the one who was here the last time.  The one who watched him walk past the Ithanians.  He was sure of it.

             
The sailors quieted at his entrance and watched him as he crossed from the door to the counter.  He supposed that this must be a place unfrequented by Karands, so his presence was cause for trepidation, especially in these times.  The man behind the counter took in his apparel and set down the mug next to a row of other mugs. 

             
“What can I get you?” he asked warily as if he feared what the answer might be. 

             
“The captain of the ship in the harbor.  I need to see him.”  His unaccented Midian gave the man pause.  After a moment of consideration he pointed to the man sitting alone. 

             
“Thanks,” Coran went to stand before the strong faced man, with the eyes of his crew following.  “I need to speak with you.”  He waited for the captain to gesture to the empty chair across the table from him.  Coran sat down and stared evenly over the polished surface.  He reached up and removed the head cloth.  The captain did not act surprised.

             
“What is it you wish to speak of?” he asked casually as if Coran’s clothing and his face were nothing to comment about.

             
“No offense Captain, but would you mind telling me where you are from?”                

The man appeared curious now.  “Summerhall, why do you ask?”

              “I am glad to hear that we have something in common.  A man cannot be too careful these days.”  The captain was thoughtful but made no comment.  “I need  some letters delivered.  Very important letters.”

             
“Before I answer, I need to know where I am to deliver these important letters,” the Captain replied carefully.

             
He had to decide if he could trust the man.  Once again he had no choice but to trust his gut.  Even if it wasn’t for his gut telling him to trust the captain, he really had no other alternative.  “Summerhall.”