The Lawkeeper of Samara (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 2) (16 page)

Gilan was tired and his wound was aching. The night had been a nightmare. He had barely made it home before a runner came to call him back to the law house. He’d gone, of course. He’d gone at once while the runner ran off to find another of the lawkeepers. The runner hadn’t told him why, but duty was duty, however much he wanted his bed.

He knew why as soon as he arrived. Arla and Ulric were talking by the desk, and Arla’s shoulder was bloody, her neck and hands spattered with blood. He could see the ugly red stripe where she’d been cut.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She looked up. “Just a nick,” she said. “Two men with a crossbow.”

“They got away?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Down by the waterfront. The Sea of Gold. Do you know it?”

“A sailor’s tavern,” Gilan nodded. He’d seen it many times, but never been inside. “You think it was them?”

“It was them.”

Another two lawkeepers arrived, out of breath from running. They stared at the blood on Arla’s shoulder.

“Wait in the big room,” she told them. “I’ll speak to you when you’re all here.” They obeyed.

“Why?” Gilan asked. It was more than one question. Why had they attacked Arla? Why had she called every lawkeeper in the city? She understood.

“It’s war,” she said. “They mean to kill us all.”

It wasn’t as ridiculous as it sounded. There were about twenty-three lawkeepers in the city, and that included Ulric and Hekman, neither of whom was of any use in this. Most of them were green at the trade, a mixture of guards, militia and freebooters. The lawkeepers were obvious. Everyone knew who they were thanks to Ulric’s red tabards and oak leaf badges. Their enemy was anonymous, hidden like six trees in a forest. With hit and run tactics it could be over in a day.

“How many are missing?” Gilan asked.

Ulric looked down at a list. “Five.”

They waited. One by one the lawkeepers and runners came in. When only one runner and one lawkeeper remained unaccounted for Arla closed the door.

“They must know we’re here by now,” she said. “If they were watching anyone they’ll know.”

Gilan nodded, there could be a man out there in the dark with a crossbow. Leaving the door open would invite an attack.

“Who’s missing?” Gilan asked. He expected Ulric to answer, but it was Arla who spoke.

“Talis,” she said.

*              *              *              *

That had been half a day ago. The runner sent to fetch Talis had come back. He had been unable to find her. Arla had told all the lawkeepers that from now on they would all sleep in the law house until it was over, and they had all understood. The place was big enough and the lawkeepers so few that they could claim a room each.

Gilan, on the other hand, was not to stay in the law house. He was to take ship to Pek. He had protested, of course. Five days in a leaky wooden tub didn’t appeal to him, but Arla was adamant. It was one of their most promising leads. He would take Diara and Ifan with him and seek out Captain Pelorus, and learn from him who had bought the lily blade.

So it was that he found himself wandering the unfamiliar territory of the docks the following morning. It was a busy place, especially so at the moment because there were seven ships loading and unloading. Gilan accosted the first sailor he came across.

“Any of these ships going to Pek?” he asked.

The man looked him up and down. “Passengers?” he asked.

“Aye, three. Does it make a difference?”

“Try the Red Fox,” the sailor told him. “The two master on jetty three. He might take you.”

Gilan looked where the man pointed and saw a ship. He knew nothing of ships, but it looked quieter than the others, as though loading had finished, or had yet to begin. He led the way across to where the ship wallowed by the jetty.

A gangplank reached down from the deck. It scraped gently to and fro’ on the planking of the jetty and the ship rubbed its side against the piles like a dog idly scratching those parts it couldn’t otherwise reach. The deck was almost deserted but for a man who stood at the top of the gangplank.

“Is this the Red Fox?” Gilan asked.

The man looked him up and down, just as the first sailor had done.

“Aye,” he said.

“And is she bound for Pek?”

“She is that,” the sailor said. He glanced away from them towards the back of the ship. “You seeking passage?” he asked.

“To Pek, yes.”

“And it’s all three of you?” he asked, looked behind Gilan.

“All three.”

“Then a silver each, and you share a cabin,” the man said.

It was expensive, but Ulric had provided him with a substantial purse for the trip. “Two silver for all three, and we get two cabins,” he tried.

“Only one to be had, unless you mean to displace the mate or captain, and that’ll take more than a silver coin.”

Gilan looked the ship over once more, trying to give the impression that he was assessing its seaworthiness. He put the palm of his hand against the hull and felt it move, live a living thing, keen to be away.

“Three it is, then, but that includes all food and adequate drink.”

“It does,” the sailor agreed.

“When do you sail?”

“Within the hour.”

“Then we have a bargain,” Gilan said. He walked carefully up the gangplank onto the deck, which rolled gently beneath him. The man stood back to let him aboard, and stuck out a hand.

“Shake on it then,” he said.

Gilan took the man’s hand and shook it. It was a strong hand, brown with the sun and callused from years of rope work. “Are you captain?”

“Me? No. I’m mate aboard the Red Fox. I sail her, captain gives the orders, which is a fortunate arrangement,” and saying this he glanced astern again, and Gilan noticed another figure standing on the raised deck at the back of the ship, a man dressed in grey and white, which he thought most un-maritime. Even the mate was decked out in red breeches and a yellow shirt.

“That’s an odd thing to say,” Gilan remarked.

The mate shrugged. “Then I didn’t say it,” he said. “But there’s some get to captain a ship through skill and years, and then there’s others who have money.” He glanced astern again, leaving Gilan in no doubt what he meant by the remark.

“Well, then, we are in your hands,” Gilan said. He liked the mate despite his dour nature. The man looked him in the eye when he spoke, and spoke plainly. “I am Gilan, officer lawkeeper, and these others are Diara and Ifan.”

The mate nodded to them. “My name’s Colinar,” he. “But you’ll hear all aboard address me as Mister Mate, and that’ll do.”

The mate summoned a crewman and they were shown to their quarters, which were pitifully small. In fact there were only two bunks, a matter that Gilan pointed out to the sailor.

“Shift on and shift off,” the man replied. “That’s how we do it at sea.” When Gilan stared at him blankly he expanded his statement. “Two of you sleep four hours and then the other takes his…” he looked at Diara “or her turn. Or you can do four hour apiece and then round again. All the same to me.”

He left them standing in the tiny space. Apart from the bunks there was barely room to stow the modest packs they’d brought with them.

“A silver for five days of this?” Diara asked. “I’ve seen bigger fireplaces.”

“It’s hard, but we’ll manage,” Gilan told them. “Eight hours apiece? We don’t need to live like they do.”

“We could try four apiece,” Diara said. “Then none would be unrested when we get to port.”

“Aye, fair enough. We’ll try that.”

There was a sound of running feet on the deck above and voices shouting. Gilan looked at the deck above him.

“Shoving off, I’d say,” Ifan said. “Looks like we were just in time.”

They made their way back up the wooden ladder that led up to the main deck and found themselves in the middle of a storm of people. Sailors were running everywhere, ropes were being hauled and over the side Gilan could see a clutch of small boats picking up ropes and beginning the task of hauling the Red Fox out to open water. Almost at once the mate appeared beside them.

“Below decks, if you please,” he said. “This is no place for those what don’t know what they’re doing.”

Gilan bristled a little at his tone. He looked up to where the captain stood on his elevated deck by the wheelman. It seemed an oasis of calm.

“Can’t we watch from up there?” he asked.

“No, sir,” the mate said. “Captain’s deck is captain’s kingdom. Don’t step up there without his word or you’ll be thrown off.”

“That seems harsh,” Gilan said, but he saw that the captain was watching them, and the mate followed his gaze, and ran to see what his master wanted. He came back.

“You have his word,” the mate said. “I’ve never heard the like, but he wants you up there while we clear the harbour.”

Gilan walked across the deck. He had to stop twice to avoid working men, and sidestep a couple of others, but once clear of the crowd he found the view better. The captain might have been rich and unskilled as a sailor, but Gilan appreciated this gesture. He studied the man.

From his quilted grey jacked to his polished leather boots the captain was a model of wealthy good taste. The jacket gleamed with discrete silver thread, and his trousers, a dark forest green, were trimmed with gold. He wore a long sword on his left hip and a small dagger on his right. Gilan judged him to be a youngish man, about his own age, of average build and height.

“By your badge you are a lawkeeper,” the captain remarked as he approached.

“Aye,” Gilan agreed.

“And you sail to Pek.”

“We do.”

“And what business might Samaran lawkeepers have in Pek?” the captain asked.

“We seek answers to questions,” Gilan said, reluctant to divulge the details of their particular quest.

The captain sighed. “Your business is your own,” he said. “But I hope that you will speak more freely of other things. It is my intent to ask you to dine with me, if you will. I keep a good table, even in the vastness of the sea.” He looked past Gilan, down to the deck. “Frankly I could do with better company than these salt soaked dullards provide.”

“We shall do what we can, captain,” Gilan said. Privately he thought himself closer to the mate in both station and inclination. This man would be happier in the company of merchant princes than simple soldiers like Gilan. He suspected that he and his lawkeepers were on board to provide entertainment.

The conversation lapsed for the very good reason that there was something better to watch. They were towed clear of the jetties that comprised Samara’s docks, and the view of the city opened up. Gilan had never seen it like this, a whole thing that could be perceived more and more as they drew away from it.

The boats towed them out further than Gilan had expected, but he guessed they were seeking a wind. It blew from the west today, and riding out with the tide they would not find it until they cleared the shadow of the headlands behind Gulltown.

Sure enough the canvas above them began to flap and the mate roared out orders, sending men to tighten ropes. Gilan was impressed. In no time at all the chaos assumed the appearance of order, the sails became taut bellies of cloth and the ship surged forwards, the boats that had towed her scattering out of the way as she rushed out into the endless sea.

“It is a fine thing, is it not?” the captain said. He looked pleased with his ship, proud of it.

“It is my first time at sea,” Gilan said. “But I confess that it is the land that draws my eye.” Samara was no longer around him, but instead shrank away from the stern, becoming less every moment. The city that had dominated his life was revealing itself to be no more than a dent in the vast coastline of Shanakan, and all around him the sea rolled, and the ship rolled with it.

“You’re not troubled by it?” the captain asked.

“By what?”

“The motion of the sea. It makes many men ill.”

Gilan gave himself a quick internal inspection. If anything he felt hungry.

“It seems not,” he replied.

“The same cannot be said for your man.”

Gilan looked at Ifan. The captain was right, the lawkeeper looked decidedly pale, and he clutched the rail with determination.

“What should he do?” Gilan asked.

“Ginger helps, if you have any. Otherwise it is said that you should stare at the horizon or lie abed with your eyes closed. It is also said that it helps to eat.”

Ifan shook his head. “I could not eat,” he said.

“Then go to the cabin and take your four hours now,” Gilan said. “Try to sleep.” He looked at Diara, but she seemed untroubled. “I will follow you.” He had planned to take the first four hours himself, but it was clear that Ifan’s need was greater.

Ifan left, hastily climbing down to the deck and then out of sight below it. The captain smiled indulgently.

“You must join me for lunch,” he said.