After securing the Brise in a slip assigned by the harbormaster, Arin and her companions made their way up the steep cliffside road to the headland above, Alos wheezing and complaining all the way, the old man stopping at intervals to rest and catch his wind.
"I should have stayed at one of the dockside inns," Alos declared.
"Ha!" barked Aiko. "At a dockside tavern, you mean."
Alos stuck out his chin. "Inn. Tavern. What do you care? You've no claim on me. When you get what you've come for and are on your way to who knows where, I'll not be with you. I'm free at last and no longer part of this madness, dragging me over the oceans of the world and stealing peacocks and chopping off parts of queens. You've no claim, y' hear?"
Aiko growled, but Arin sighed, and the old man would not meet her eyes. Delon hefted the oldster's gear, and Egil said, "Let's go."
They came in among buildings of stone and tile and brick; the only wood in sight was that of brightly painted doors. They made their way into the city and, after asking about, procured rooms in the Blue Moon, an inn overlooking the bay below.
Following hot baths and a hot meal they took to their beds, and when morning came Alos was gone.
"Gone?" asked Egil. "Gone where?"
Delon shrugged and gestured out beyond the windows of the common room, where an early morning fog curled up across the headland and through the streets of Pendwyr. "I don't know. His bed had been slept in, but when I awoke he wasn't there. His goods are gone as well."
Egil gazed at Aiko, but the yellow warrior merely stared back, her face impassive. Then he turned to Arin. "Fear not, love, we can always find him and cast him aboard the ship."
Arin looked away from the fire in the nearby hearth, the blaze driving the damp chill away from the room. "Nay, chier, let be." She glanced at Delon, then back to Egil. "To do such to Alos would be no better than clamping an iron collar 'round his neck."
Egil took a deep breath then let it out. "As you will, love. As you will."
A serving girl came to the table bearing a great platter heaped with eggs and rashers of bacon and biscuits and honey and a pot of freshly brewed tea. Delon took it upon himself to serve them all, shoveling food onto each of their trenchers and filling their mugs with hot drink.
As they dug in, Egil peered 'round the table. "I suppose our next move is to go to the caer and look for the High King's cage, eh?"
Delon set his mug aside. "Perhaps it isn't at the caer at all. Perhaps there's a garden of beasts elsewhere."
"It may be that King Bleys doesn't keep ferrets at all," said Aiko.
Delon cocked an eyebrow.
Aiko shrugged. "Perhaps the ferret in the High King's cage is a person, just as you were a mad monarch's rutting peacock."
"If I am indeed the peacock of the rede and it's not that preening bird in her garden," said Delon.
"Hmm," mused Egil. "Regardless as to whether or no you are the peacock-though I think in fact you are- still Aiko may be right: the ferret could be a person, too. If so, then the High King's cage could be the caer itself or a dungeon within the caer or-"
"Or the city jail," interjected Delon.
"Could be a brig on a ship," added Egil.
"My songs would have it be a remote tower… with a princess locked away in a chamber at the top." Delon grinned.
Egil looked at Delon. "Does the caer have a tower?"
Delon shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tower or dungeon: I don't know. I've not been here before."
Egil turned to Arin. The Dylvana had stopped eating and was again staring fixedly into the fire. "Are you well, love?" he asked.
Arin looked at him and sighed. "Nought. I can see nought in the flames. I have had no visions since the one concerning the green stone. Could I but ‹see›, mayhap we would have some guidance, some hint of what to do. Yet I think the fires will be empty until this quest has run its course."
Egil reached out and laid his hand atop hers.
"Wild magic," said Arin. "That's what Dalavar called it: wild magic. It comes at its own beck, and I can do nought to make it occur." She sighed and stroked his fingers, then freed her hand and took up her knife and began cutting a strip of bacon.
"Well," said Egil, "I say we need visit the caer and see what there is to see concerning the High King's cage, and discover what we can about the ferret, whoever or whatever it may be."
"The jail, too," added Delon. He scooped up a spoonful of egg and biscuit and stuffed it all into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Finally he took a great gulp of hot tea and said, "If the High King has a ship of his own, we ought to see if anyone is in the brig."
Arin set aside her knife. "It is so frustrating: all is clouded in mystery. We know not if the ferret in the High King's cage is even in Pendwyr. Yet, there is this: if Aiko is the cat who fell from grace, and if Egil is the one-eye in dark water- recall, we have four one-eyes to select from, three with Alos gone-and if Delon is the mad monarch's rutting peacock rather than the bird we left behind, then we are stumbling along the correct path regardless of being blind. And so, we must search Pendwyr for the ferret. Whether or no we truly find what we seek is left up to Fortune's whims-and may She turn Her smiling face our way. Even so, even if we leave here with the ferret, then we must seek the cursed keeper of faith in the maze, and we have no inkling as to where to look for whoever or whatever that might be. More than that I cannot say."
Aiko reached for a biscuit. "Forget not the statue in the hedge, Dara; the keeper of faith in the maze might yet turn out to be the one-handed queen."
Delon laughed, then sobered as his eyes flew wide. "Say, we're not going to go back for her, are we?"
"If we do," replied Aiko, slicing the biscuit with her trencher knife, "then perhaps I'll bring her along as the queen with no head."
Arin held a hand palm out. "If she is the keeper of faith, then I would think we need her alive to complete the quest."
The corners of Aiko's mouth turned down. "Then when this quest is over…" She drew a finger across her throat. As if contemplating Gudrun's demise, Aiko smiled and calmly spooned honey over the cut biscuit halves.
Arin shook her head. "'Tis the ferret we are after at the moment and not the keeper of faith."
Egil said, "Surely the ferret is here in Pellar and not elsewhere. I mean, where else would Bleys keep a cage?"
All eyes turned to Delon, and he shrugged. "I hear he has a fortress in Rian. Challerain Keep, I believe."
Aiko groaned, then asked, "Where is this Challerain Keep?"
Delon shrugged. "I've not been there."
"Rian itself lies along the Boreal Sea," said Egil. "As to the keep, it must be inland, for it's not along the coast. In any event, it's far north from here."
"Would we had known when we were sailing that ocean," said Aiko. "It might have saved us a trip."
They ate in silence for a while, and then Egil said, "Look, ere we go haring off to Challerain, let us first search this city. Perhaps, as Arin says, Fortune will turn Her smiling face our way."
Arin looked up from her trencher. "We can only hope."
As they stepped through the doorway of the Blue Moon and into the cobbled street, Egil said, "Well, I talked to the innkeeper, and the only High King's cages he knew of were the kennels where Bleys keeps his hounds and the mews where he keeps his hunting birds. The caer has no dungeons, as far as he knows, but there is a city jail-at the moment filled with cutpurses and thieves and captured Rovers awaiting execution. It seems that when the High King's fleet broke the blockade, he brought back Rover captains to make examples of. They're to be hanged at sundown."
"Huah," grunted Delon. "Hangings will not stop the Rovers. They come from a nation of pirates: Kistan-its myriad jungle coves providing shelter for the picaroons."
"Ah, well, that's neither here nor there," said Egil. "Our concern is altogether different." He turned to Arin. "Shall we?"
They set out for the caer.
As the fog burned away with the coming of the morning sun, they passed through a city made primarily of stone and brick and tile, and of stucco and clay, the buildings for the most part joined to one another, though here and there were stand-alone structures. Narrow streets and alleyways twisted this way and that, the cobblestones of variegated color. Shops occupied many first floors, with dwellings above. Glass windows displayed merchandise, the handiwork of crafters and artisans: milliners, copper smiths, potters, jewelers, weavers, tanners, cobblers, coopers, clothiers, tailors, seamstresses, furniture makers, and the like.
Delon paused at the window of one of the stores. "I need outfit myself with a good set of leathers. Likely I'll need such ere this venture is done."
Aiko cast an askance eye his way. "Will you insist they match your belt? If so, I have a feather for your hat." Delon grinned as Aiko giggled behind her hand, while Egil guffawed aloud. Arin merely smiled, then tugged Egil onward, the other two following.
Pedestrian traffic was light, and heavy, horse-drawn wagons trundled through the streets. At one point, Arin and her companions had to pause while a water wagon maneuvered 'round a twisting turn. As they moved onward, water wagons in the early morn became a common sight, for Pendwyr was a city without wells, and water was hauled in from the shafts and springs down on the plains of Pellar.
Not that the city was without its own water, for nearly all of the buildings in the city itself had tile roofs, and they were fitted with gutters and channels cunningly wrought to guide rainwater into cisterns for storing. This supply was augmented by the water from the plains.
That a city had been raised on land with no water was an accident of history, for Pendwyr had grown a building at a time as merchants and craftsmen had settled on the headland to be near the fortress. The bastion itself was where the High King had quartered after the city of Gleeds near the mouth of the Argon had been burnt to the ground, an event precipitated long past by the Chabbains from across the sea.
Yet situated where it was, rain came often to Pendwyr, and seldom had the city needed to rely wholly upon water from the plains.
Neither Arin nor Egil nor Delon nor Aiko commented upon this history of Pendwyr, for they did not know how the city had come to be. Instead they strolled along without speaking for the most part, eyeing the richness all 'round.
Past shops and stores, past restaurants and cafes and tea shops, past inns and taverns, past large dwellings and small squares, past greengrocers and chirurgeons and herbalists they strolled. And they crossed through several open market squares, with fish and fowl and meats, with vegetables and fruits and grain, with woven goods and flowers and the like. But Arin and her companions did not stop to finger the wares, though Egil commented that here was the place to come to resupply the ship.
Onward they walked, to pass through a gateway in a high stone wall which ran the width of the narrow peninsula. Beyond the wall the character of the buildings changed, for here were located a great courthouse, a tax hall, a large building housing the city guard with a jail above, a firehouse, a library, a census building, a hall of records, a cluster of university buildings, and other such-here was the face of government, the agencies and offices of the realm. As they passed through this section of Pendwyr, they heard a loud thnk!, and down a side street and in a large, open city square behind a low wall they could see a gallows of many ropes being tested. And even though it was early in the day, street peddlers were arranging their carts in the square, maneuvering into the best positions to sell their wares at the public spectacle.
Arin sighed. "Humans: they make a carnival of death."
Egil looked at her. "Perhaps, love, it will give others pause. They will think twice ere committing a like crime."
Arin shook her head. "As Delon said, such spectacle will not stop the Rovers."
Egil shrugged, and they walked onward.
Ahead, stood Caer Pendwyr itself, the citadel tall with castellated walls all 'round and towers at each corner, enclosing the castle of the High King. As they neared the caer, of a sudden they realized that it sat on a freestanding spire of stone towering up from the Avagon Sea below. The fortified pinnacle was connected to the headland by a pivot bridge, a span which could be swiveled aside by a crew in the castle to sever the fortress from the headland.
A line of petitioners stood outside a low building away from the bridge. After an enquiry or two, Arin and her companions took their place at the end of the line. People turned and gaped at them, for seldom had any seen a Dylvana, and none had ever seen a yellow warrior woman. At the distant door, a warder stepped inside as a whispered mutter made its way up the line. Moments later a soldier dressed in the red and gold of the High King's guard emerged with the warder, who pointed at the foursome. The warder took his place at the door again, but the kings-guard marched toward the four.
Aiko shifted into a balanced stance as if readying for battle, though she left her swords scabbarded at her back.
"Do you think they know about Gudrun and are coming to arrest us?" whispered Delon.
Egil shrugged. "Not likely," he responded, yet his hand fell to the axe slipped through his belt.
The kingsguard stepped before them and bowed. "Milady," he said to Arin, "bring you word of the King?"
"Nay, I do not," replied Arin. "I am here to see him instead." As a look of disappointment flickered across the kingsguard's face, Arin added, "I take it by thy question that King Bleys is not in Caer Pendwyr."
"He is not, milady," replied the guard, his gaze flitting to Aiko and back. "Lord Revor presides."
"We have traveled far to see the High King," said Arin, "but if he is not here, then we would seek audience with his steward instead. Our mission is pressing."
The kingsguard shook his head. "I am most sorry, milady, but the lord steward is seeing no one today. He prepares for an urgent journey."
Arin drew herself up to her full four feet eight. "Tell him that a representative of Coron Remar of Darda Erynian is here seeking aid."
The kingsguard swept his hat low in an elaborate bow. "Wait here, milady. I will see what I can do."
They returned to the caer for the afternoon appointment that the kingsguard had arranged. Within a candlemark, a warder escorted them across the bridge and into the walled castle. They passed among corridors and at last emerged through a postern to find themselves crossing a rear courtyard toward a short suspension bridge a hundred or so feet above the rolling sea. The bridge itself spanned from the castle to another sheer-sided pinnacle on which were low stone buildings-lodgings, said their escort, for the King's closest advisors.
"When I was a lad in Gunar," said Delon, peering down at the sheer stone as they crossed the swaying bridge, "my father and I oft climbed rock faces such as this. Those days in the Gunarring are long past."
Looking ahead, they could see a third pinnacle beyond, and another suspension bridge spanning the gulf between this one and that. On the far pinnacle stood the High King's private residence; they did not cross over to the King's spire, but instead were taken to a stone dwelling at hand, where they waited in a foyer for another candlemark or so. Finally, a slight, balding man stepped through a doorway and bowed to Arin. "Milady, I am the Lord Steward Revor," he announced, "and I understand you have urgent business."
"So, milord," said Egil, "King Bleys is not even in Pellar at the moment."
Revor shook his head as he hastily examined papers, stuffing a few into saddlebags and placing others back among the piles upon the desk he stood behind; as he had told them, he would be shortly sailing northward across the bay to deal with a matter of high justice concerning the garrison in the Fian Dunes, but he could spare them a moment. "No. Bleys is to the north. No sooner had he come back from breaking the Rovers' blockade, than word came of the Lian campaign against the Rupt-"
"Campaign?" burst out Arin. "What campaign?"
Revor looked across at her. "It seems that some of the great trees of the Larkenwald were cut down by the Foul Folk, and the Lian took up arms against the tribe of Spaunen that did it." Revor glanced at Arin. "From the message that came, Elven vengeance was swift, milady, utterly without mercy, as it should have been. Chilling examples were made of the axe wielders, and their remains are even now being displayed to the Spaunen kindred in their mountain haunts. At times battle ensues, and the Lian hew down those Rupt who take up arms. That is where High King Bleys is: he rides with the Lian."
"What does the felling of trees have to do with Bleys?" asked Delon.
"Why, eldwood trees are protected by edict of the High King," replied Revor, returning to his task. "Too, King Bleys is not one to stand idly by when there are arms to wield." The steward gestured at the piles of paper and scrolls yet awaiting his scrutiny. "He'd rather leave the administration of the realm to others. In any event, as soon as he returned from breaking the Rovers' blockade, he and Phais and a small warband rode off to join the Lian on their ride through the Grimwall."
"Phais?" asked Egil.
"She is the High King's advisor," replied Revor. "A Lian herself, she was outraged when the word first came." Revor paused in his scrutiny. "Huh, last October it was, a year past. But then Bleys was readying the fleet to sail against the Rovers, and although he gave Phais permission to ride to the Larkenwald, she stayed by him. Now he fares at her side. They rode to join the Lian in late July- three months past."
"Milord, how goes this war?" asked Delon.
The steward shrugged. "Other than the original message, we've no word." Revor stuffed a last paper into his saddlebag and buckled it shut.
He looked across at them. "But here, you did not come to speak of war; it was to see the High King instead." Now he gazed directly at Arin. "You seek aid, Dara Arin of Darda Erynian, the Blackwood, representative of Coron Remar. How may I help you?"
Arin glanced at Egil, then said, "We've come looking for a ferret in the High King's cage."
Revor's eyes widened and he sat down. "And this is your urgent business?" His tone was sharp.
"Aye, 'tis the rede of a prophecy we follow… one thy High King should now know about, given that he has met up with any who rode with me to Black Mountain."
"Prophecy?" Revor took a deep breath and blew it out. "Milady, the High King keeps no ferrets."
"Are there any in Pendwyr?" asked Delon.
The steward shook his head. "None I know of. I am afraid that if your mission calls for the finding of a High King's ferret, you are to be disappointed."
Aiko spoke for the first time. "Has the High King any cages?"
"He kennels dogs," replied Revor, cocking his head at her unfamiliar accent. "Falcons and the like."
"May we examine them?"
Revor blew out his breath again. "I'll arrange for someone to escort you, though you'll find no weasels, stoats, ferrets, mousehounds, or other such within."
"Does Bleys keep cages elsewhere?" asked Egil.
Revor shrugged. "Perhaps some at Challerain Keep, though I would be most surprised if any contained ferrets."
The steward looked from one to another. "Is there aught else you would ask of me?" None replied, and Revor stood and threw on a cloak and hat, and took up his saddlebags. "There is a tale here for the telling and would that I could hear the whole of it, but I, too, have urgent business."
As the steward led them toward the door, Delon said, 'There is one other thing you could do for us, milord."
Revor looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.
Delon said, "You could give us permission to speak to the prisoners in the jail."
"Huah," grunted the steward. "But for a few drunkards, the rest are to be hanged at sundown."
Delon shrugged. "Nevertheless…"
Revor snorted and then his eyes widened. "Oh. I see. It is the High King's cage. Certainly."
Then Lord Revor frowned, as if chasing an elusive thought. But ere he could catch it, a page stepped through the doorway. "Milord, I am to tell you your ship awaits."
Revor waved him away. "Yes, yes, lad. I'll be right there."
"Speaking of ships, milord," added Delon, as they moved outside the lord steward's quarters, "we'd like permission to speak to any prisoners in brigs as well."
The steward shook his head. "The brigs are empty, lad; all are in gaol. Regardless, I'll get you a pass to the prison." Revor called a kingsguard to him and gave him instructions, then bade good-bye to his guests and, shouldering his saddlebags, strode away toward the bridge to the caer.
"Well, Lord Revor was right about one thing," said Delon, "there are no ferrets in any of these cages."
They stood in the High King's mews, the birds unhooded, their jesses free, their eyes glaring.
"Ha!" barked their escort. "A ferret wouldn't stand a chance with these beauties. Look at those claws, those beaks: what ferret could withstand such?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, back toward the kennels where the dogs yet stirred and yipped at these strangers who had passed by. "Nor would a weasel or such last long with the hounds," added the kingsguard.
"All right, then," said Egil, "take us to the prison where languish the Rover captains."
The guard looked at the sun, a handspan above the horizon. "Not for long," he said. "In a candlemark or so they'll be languishing at the ends of ropes."
Out from the mews they stepped and past the stables. They walked across the central thoroughfare and toward the jail. Down the side street where stood the gallows there came the hullaboo of a crowd. Arin shivered in revulsion. "Mankind and his spectacle of death," she muttered.
Egil took her hand as they strode toward the lockup. "Can you say Elves are any different?"
She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.
"I mean, love, the Lian are even now displaying the remains of slaughtered Foul Folk to their kindred. If that is not a spectacle, I know not what is meant by the term."
"But they slaughtered trees," said Arin.
"And these pirates slaughtered people," rejoined Egil.
For a moment they walked onward in silence, then Arin said, "Thou art right, Egil. The felling of people is of more concern than the felling of trees. Yet heed, the crowd down by the gallows has come to be entertained, whereas the warband of Lian seek only vengeance pure, and they seek only to prevent such from occurring again. They feel no joy in what they do; only justice."
Now Egil fell silent, and as lamplighters moved along the street preparing for the oncoming dusk by igniting the oil lanthorns atop lampposts, at last Arin and her companions came unto the jail.
Upon orders from the desk warden, they laid their weapons aside. A guard searched them all and found Aiko's shiruken; in spite of her low growls, he set them in the vestibule as well. "Care for them as if they were your children," she said, "for if they are not here when we return, you shall father no offspring in the future."
A jailor led them up a stone stairwell and in among enshadowed holding cages, dark with the coming of eve.
Through the barred windows the crowd waiting in the street below could be heard: hawkers selling their wares, children shouting and screaming in play, strident voices calling for the show to begin, a low mumble and mutter of people pressed together. Some prisoners peered out through windows at the gallows below, while others sat upon the floor and wept.
"These are them what are to be hanged," said their jailor escort, gesturing at the cells to the right. "Pirates and cutpurses and such. Them others over on this side are drunks and debtors. Hang them too, says I. It'll clear the city of such." Then he turned to Arin. "Mind you now, you got to hurry. The rope dancing is about to begin, and me, I want a fair seat for the show. In fact, I'll go get Rob to save me one. Take care now not to get too close to the bars and I'll be back before you know I was gone." With that he turned and hurried away.
Aiko prowled down the side holding the drunkards and debtors, her gaze searching the cells.
Of a sudden, Delon called out "Ferret!" his voice ringing throughout the pens.
There was no answer.
Slowly, Arin and Egil moved along the right-hand cages, peering within. Some of the prisoners were dark skinned; these were obviously the Kistanians-the captured Rover captains. Others were pale and trembling- "Cutpurses and thieves, most likely," said Egil. Feral eyes turned their way and some prisoners spat curses at them in an unfamiliar tongue. Some captives turned their backs upon these gawking visitors, while others reached out through the bars, beseeching, pleading for the Dylvana to save them, tears running down their faces.
"Adon, deliver me from such a place," muttered Delon, and he strode on ahead.
A fair-skinned youth with dark brown, shoulder-length hair moved forward through the shadows to fetch up against the bars of a cell. As Delon stepped past, the youth reached out and caught at Delon's sleeve. "Good sir, you called for Ferret?"
Delon drew back, away from the clutching fingers. "I did."
The youth, alone in the cell, said in a low voice, "I am she, unjustly imprisoned."
Delon's eyes flew wide and he looked closely. "By Adon," he gasped, "you are a female!"
She held her arms wide and pirouetted. Dressed in lad's clothing, she stood a slender five feet three or four. Her enshadowed eyes were dark brown, matching her hair. She could be no older than twenty-one or -two.
"And you are named Ferret?" asked Delon.
She turned up a hand. "Yes." She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and filled with as much maidenly virtue as she could muster. "Surely, sir, you can see that I am innocent."
Delon looked rightward. "Dara!" he called. When Arin turned, Delon said, "This lady names herself Ferret."
Arin quickly stepped to the cell. "Is this true? Thou art Ferret?"
"That's what I am called, milady," answered the girl-woman, "though my true name is Ferai. 'Tis Gothonian, as was my dear father, rest his soul."
"Ferret, Ferai, regardless," said Arin, "we must get thee free of this place."
Ferai's eyes lighted at these words, but no sooner were they said than the jailor came rushing back. "Time's up. I've got my seat, and they're ready to start the hangings. You'll have to leave."
"Wait," demanded Arin. "You must set this one free."
The warder stepped back, as if startled. "Her? Why, she's one of the worst. Queen of All Thieves, that one. No, milady, she'll dangle among the first, she will."
"But I am innocent," declared Ferret, attempting to summon up a tear but failing.
"Ha!" barked the jailor. "Guilty as sin."
"Chien haleine batard!" snarled Ferret.
"Guilt or innocence is not at issue here," declared Arin. "Our mission is vital and she must go with us. Set her free."
The jailor shook his head. "I'll do no such, milady. She's to hang, and that's a fact."
"This cannot be," protested Arin. "Take me to the chief warden."
"It won't do you no good," said the jailor. "He's got his orders, too."
"Even so," said Egil, "we would talk to him."
"Aiko," called Ann. The yellow warrior had reached the end of the cells on the left. "Hurry. We must see the one in charge."
Aiko swiftly came to Arin's side, and with the warder leading in righteous indignation, they moved back down the corridor.
As Delon started to follow, Ferret plucked at his sleeve again. "Give me your belt."
"What?" He looked down at the gaudy leather.
"Don't question," she hissed. "Just give it to me."
As Delon slipped the iridescent belt with its ornate buckle from about his waist, she said, "Where shall I meet you?"
"Meet us?"
"Yes, you fool. Where?"
"Um, we are staying at the Blue Moon, but we have a ship at the docks: slip thirty-four; the Brise."
She snaked the ornate belt through the bars. "The ship it is. Go now, before he turns."
Delon hurried to catch the others.
After they retrieved their weapons, the warder escorted them to an office on the first floor. A tall, lean man in his early forties was putting on his hat as the Dylvana entered. He cocked an eye toward the warder.
"They insisted on seeing you, sir," the jailor huffed. "Wouldn't take my word, oh, no." Nose in the air, he marched away.
"What do you want?" demanded the chief warden, gazing out the window where the sun lipped the rim of the world. "I am in a hurry."
"There is a prisoner we need," replied Arin. "One who must be set free."
The chief settled a cloak about his shoulders. From the corridor there came the tramp of feet. "If it's a drunk or a debtor, simply pay at the desk," he snapped.
"Nay, chief warden, 'tis one about to hang," replied Arin.
A jailor stood in the doorway. Arrayed in the hallway behind was a troop of men-swords at their sides, manacles in hand. "We are ready, sir."
The warden nodded and tossed him a ring of keys. "Go on up, sergeant. Take those in the first cell. I'll be there in a moment."
The jailor saluted and turned and called out a command, and the troop tramped away, heading for the stairs.
The warden took up a sheaf of papers. "I'm sorry, but you are too late. I have these warrants to execute. No prisoner to be hanged will be set free."
Aiko growled, and touched the wide leather sash at her waist, the belt holding the hidden shiruken, but Arin stopped her with a glance. The Dylvana turned. "I represent Coron Remar of Darda Erynian, chief warden, and am here at the behest of the Lord Steward Revor. He will tell thee that what I request is to be honored."
"Have you proof of this?" asked the man.
"Nay, yet I can get it."
"Then do so," he replied, stepping toward the doorway. "Until I see such, though, the hangings will go on as scheduled."
"But the steward has set sail, chief warden," protested Arin. "I cannot-"
From the hall came shouts of alarm and the clash and clang of weaponry. Bloodcurdling shrieks and howls of battle rang throughout the building. Horns sounded above the furor, and swarthy men armed with swords and manacle chains clattered down the stairs.
"Escape!" shouted the warden, but whether his was a command to flee or a statement of fact was uncertain. Regardless, he drew a weapon and charged into the fray, his steel riving.
Aiko's own swords were in her hands, and Egil held his axe. Drawing his rapier, Delon looked to Arin. "Now is our chance to save Ferret," he called above the clangor of battle.
Gripping her long-knife, Arin nodded sharply, and Aiko led the way. The battle had spilled into the streets, and the way to the stairwell was empty of combat, though bodies lay here and there-some were Rovers, others warders; some yet alive, others thoroughly dead.
Up the stone stairs Delon dashed, following Aiko's lead, the bard shouting "Ferret! Ferret!" Arin and Egil came after.
When they got to the upper floor, they found men dead and dying; and even though one of the slain jailors-the sergeant-yet held the ring of keys, all the cell doors stood unlocked and open, the cages empty, even the drunks and debtors were gone.
From all appearances, the troop had been ambushed and their swords and chains taken by the escaping prisoners.
As to Ferret, she was nowhere to be found.
Arin and her companions looked at one another in bewilderment, and through the windows came shouts of alarm and calls to arms and cries of frightened women and children.
"The ship," said Delon, "the Brise. Ferret said she'd meet us there."
"What?" asked Egil in surprise.
"She said she'd meet us there," repeated Delon. "I'll explain later."
"Let us go," said Aiko. "My tiger whispers of peril."
"But the wounded…" protested Arin.
"Surely someone is even now fetching healers," said Egil. "Besides, the chief warden is likely to blame the escape on us."
"Indeed," said Delon. "And he'd likely be right."
Aiko shot him a glance, then said again and more strongly, "Let us go. Now."
Back down the stairs and out they ran, emerging into a madhouse of clamor and chaos, with shouting men, like hounds in pursuit, running this way and that, Rovers fleeing before them.
"Quick," hissed Egil, "to the Blue Moon to get our things, then to the ship."
They scurried through the streets, making their way along the headland toward their quarters. As they ran, of a sudden Egil stopped. "Adon," he said, and pointed through the twilight.
Down in the bay and at anchor stood a Dragonship, and from its mast flew a striped flag: black and orange and gold.
" 'Tis a Jutlander ship," said Egil. "Come searching for us, I deem."
"Ar, your friend came looking," said the innkeeper. "Not a candlemark past."
"Friend?" asked Delon, the bard alone, for the others would be more readily recognized by anyone watching.
"Spoke with an accent, he did," added the innkeeper.
"Was he old, one of his eyes white?"
"Nar. This was a young man with yellow hair. Dressed in black, he was, though his hat was orange and gold. He said, real snootylike, I wasn't to tell you. Said he and his friends wanted to spring a surprise. Ordered me to keep my trap shut, he did. But I thought you should know; besides, I never did like taking orders from strangers."
"Well, if he comes back," said Delon, sliding the 'keep a gold coin, "tell him we dine at the caer. Have him and the others wait in our chambers. We will be late returning."
Delon turned and, pulling his hat low, stepped back to the street. He walked a few paces along the lantern-lit thoroughfare, then ducked into a dark alleyway. "You were right, Egil," he hissed to the three waiting there. "The Jutlanders are looking for us."
"Rauk!" said Egil, turning to Arin. "Then they must know about the Brise."
"How so?" asked Delon.
"They would have learned the name of our craft from the harbormaster in Koniginstadt," said Arin.
"And they would have asked the harbormaster here if we had docked," added Egil.
Aiko growled. "Then our ship will be under their eye. Perhaps they even lay an ambush for us, and this is what my tiger whispers of."
"Oh Hel!" hissed Delon. "Ferret's going there."
"Oh, my," exclaimed Arin. "There is something else."
"What is it, love?" asked Egil, his gaze sweeping the street but seeing nothing of alarm.
"Alos. If they find him, they will slay him."
"Damn!" spat Egil. "And it's not like he can hide-an old, one-eyed man."
"We must find him," declared Arin. "Take him to safety."
Aiko grunted. "He is, or was, at a dockside tavern: the Foaming Prow."
Egil turned to her. "You know where he is?"
"I followed him last night when he slipped away."
"Well, let's stir our stumps," said Delon. "The Jutlanders will be back soon, and I'd rather not be the guest of Gudrun again."
Abandoning their meager goods, they slipped away from the Blue Moon and headed for the docks. Full night had fallen by the time they came to the road to the wharves below, and only a handful of lanterns were lit down on the docks. Against the dim yellow light, they scanned the way for Jutlanders coming upward, but none were seen. They scurried down to the piers, and keeping to the darkest shadows, they headed toward the taverns. Soon they reached the Foaming Prow, a ramshackle grogshop much like the Cove in Morkfjord.
Once again, since he was the least recognizable- being neither an Elf nor yellow nor having one eye-they sent Delon in to investigate. Pulling his hat down to shadow his face, Delon entered the tavern, while Aiko, Arin, and Egil, weapons ready, waited in the darkness outside.
Moments later Delon emerged, with Alos draped over his shoulder, the old man dead drunk and passed out.
Now they made their way back in the direction of the sloop, this time with Arin and Aiko to the fore, the Dylvana's keener eyesight probing the darkness ahead, the Ryodoan at her side, a sword in each hand.
"The peril grows," hissed Aiko.
They stashed Alos behind a great number of bales of flax waiting to be laded aboard a ship. Then they crept onward through the darkness, using shadows and kegs and crates and bales to conceal their progress.
Of a sudden, Arin stopped, Aiko with her. The Dylvana turned and pulled Egil and Delon close. "There," she breathed. "In the darkness nigh the slip. Jutlanders. Seven-no, eight altogether."
"Splendid," hissed Delon, peering in the direction Arin pointed. "That's but two apiece. Yet I see nothing but darkness where you say they are."
"Elven eyes see well at night," murmured Arin, "by lantern or starlight alone, even in shadows."
Egil touched Delon on the shoulder. "Neither you nor I can see them, yet recall: the Jutes wear black."
Delon nodded, still unable to make out the foe. "What now?"
Aiko looked at the bard and Egil. "Let us turn the tables."
"How so?" asked Egil.
"Waylay those who think to waylay us," she replied. "Lead them into a trap of our own devising."
"Is there no other way?" asked Arin.
"Perhaps a thousand, love," said Egil, "yet we must act now ere Ferret comes."
"She may already be here and their prisoner," sissed Delon.
Aiko said flatly, "They are skulkers, set to kill us. Your mercy is misplaced, Dara."
Egil scanned the docks. "I can decoy them. Get them to run past here, where you could take them from behind- that would cut down the odds quickly."
Aiko nodded in agreement and hissed, "Subarashii! Remember: take them from behind!" and before any could move she sheathed her blades and stepped out into the light of a distant lantern, and, singing a Ryodoan song, she swaggered down the dock toward the waiting ambush.
"Rauk!" spat Egil, but then turned to the others. "Make ready."
They watched as Aiko sang her way toward the Brise.
"What if they have bows?" sissed Delon.
"They don't," said Arin.
As Aiko neared the sloop, armed men in black moved out into the dim light. "Aufhalten!" rang out a command.
Aiko looked up as if surprised. "Oh!" she squeaked, quailing back.
The Jutlanders moved toward her, and shrieking, Aiko turned and ran back the way she had come.
One of the men shouted, "Ergreifen Sie sie!" and they thundered after her, their longer legs eating up the distance between.
Up the docks she came, the men gaining, and in the darkness Egil's knuckles were white upon the helve of his axe, as were Arin's on her long-knife and Delon's on his rapier.
Aiko ran some yards past their position, then whirled, drawing her swords. Now she shouted, "Kuru! Ajiwau hqjgane!"
The pursuing Jutes skidded to a halt, for suddenly the victim had grown fangs.
"Vorsicht!" warned one of the men, and just as they began to spread wide to take this yellow woman from all sides, from behind the trio struck: Egil's axe hewing down a man with a single blow; Arin's long-knife sliding under a shoulderblade to pierce through another's heart; Delon's rapier thrusting into a third Jutlander only to become lodged against bone. Men in black whirled, facing these new opponents, and one raised a horn to his lips to sound a call. But ere the trumpet belled a single note, from the blackness there flashed a dagger tumbling through the air, and the blade sprang full-blown in the man's throat, and dropping his horn and clutching his neck the Jutlander fell gurgling. In the fore, Aiko slew one man and then another, while Delon's blade was wrenched from his hand as the man he had killed fell to the pier, taking the lodged rapier down with him. Delon looked up to see a Jutlander blade swinging at his head, and he sprang aside as another dagger flashed out of the dark to pierce his attacker's breast. The man staggered backward and fell over a slain comrade and did not rise again. Egil's axe took down the last Jute.
They looked at one another panting, and a figure stepped out of the darkness.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, a brace of throwing daggers in hand.
It was Ferret.
"Ferret!" exclaimed Delon.
She ignored his greeting. “The kingsguard will be down here soon, looking for escaped Rovers, any that got away, that is, for they're likely to try to steal a ship."
In the lanternlight they could see bandoliers of daggers crisscrossing her chest. She stepped to two of the slain Jutes and retrieved her knives, cleaning the blades on the dead men's cloaks. "These bastards were waiting. I thought them kingsmen. I didn't know they would attack you. Fortunate I stopped to get some of my things, eh?"
"Come," said Arin. "Ferai is right: kingsmen will soon be here to stop pirates from stealing ships, to say nought of other Jutlanders searching for us. We must flee."
"What about these bodies?" asked Delon.
"Let be," answered Egil. "We will be gone in less time than it would take to hide them."
"I will get Alos while you ready the ship," said Aiko, and she started back toward the bales of flax.
"Alos? Who is Alos?" asked Ferret, stepping into the shadows to emerge with a small satchel.
"He's one of the one-eyes in dark water," replied Deion without elaborating. "Now come on, let's get out of here before the warders or more Jutlanders arrive."
As they hurried toward the ship, from a pocket she fished out his belt and handed it to Delon. "Thanks. The buckle tongue makes a suitable lockpick for cell doors."
Delon laughed and took the belt and fastened it about his waist.
Now they came to the Brise. As Arin and Egil began raising the sails, Delon said, "Help me with these lines, Ferret."
"These Jutlanders: they were the men in black?"
"Aye. Men in black, with orange and gold hats on their heads. They're after us."
"Hmm, Jutlanders after you, kingsguards after me. I'd say it's time to fly."
"Sooner than you think, lass," said Egil. "When it occurs to the Jutes to come and see about the ambush, we need be long gone. Their Dragonship is faster than our sloop."
"Hsst!" hissed Arin, "someone nears."
They peered through the shadows along the docks. A figure came carrying a burden.
It was Aiko, and draped over her shoulder was Alos, the old man dead to the world. Bearing him like a sack of grain, she clambered over the wale and headed for the cabin as Delon and Ferret shoved the sloop out from the slip, vaulting on board as they did so.
And with all now aboard they sailed away into the sea underneath the glimmering stars.