The Seascape Tattoo (14 page)

“Another? You ask much.”

“This is a small favor. I leave my companion Agathodaemon here. There is hunting for him here, and shelter. But I may not return from my quest. And if I don't … I ask that you come to visit him at the full moon, just so that he does not die of loneliness.”

“This we can do, with pleasure,” the octo-wizard replied.

The snake slithered about Neoloth's ankles, rubbing him like a cat. “I'll be back if I can,” its master promised and scratched his head.

“Please. Misssss you…,”
Agathodaemon said.

On the way back to the ship, Aros watched his companion carefully. “I'll be damned,” he said. “You really do have feelings.”

Neoloth wanted to snarl at him but couldn't … and after he took a closer look at Aros's expression, he realized there was no mockery there. “He's been with me a long time.” He shrugged.

“Well, then,” Aros said. “Let's get your princess and get back here as soon as we can. If snakes can die of loneliness, it is a bigger, wider world than I ever would have thought.”

 

SIXTEEN

Ashore in Shrike

Aros and Neoloth slept, Aros's snore a steady burr, the wizard cocooned in silence. Neoloth slept in a servant's berth, a crowded thing, while Aros had the larger bed. Aros, nudged from a dream of carnivorous birds by a knock at the door, answered with a growl. “What the devil is it?”

Dorgan filled the doorway. “Cap'n Gold wants you.”

“Well,” Neoloth said. “What Captain Gold wants, Captain Gold gets.”

Aros swung his feet down to the floor. “We'll be there in a moment.”

Dorgan nodded and retreated.

“Remind me again,” Neoloth said, “why I sleep in the inferior position.”

Aros smiled. “Because in your infinite wisdom, you knew that any sailor who saw
me
folded up like a nightgown in that tiny bunk might well speak of it.”

“Yes,” the wizard grumbled. “That sounds like something I'd say.”

“Who says I don't respect you?”

A few minutes later, Aros was rapping his scarred knuckles against the cabin door. “Requesting admittance, Cap'n.”

“Granted,” Gold said.

“What is the concern?” Neoloth asked as they entered.

“We enter Shrike Harbor tomorrow,” Gold said. “Anything that remains to be done needs be done. If your plan fails, it won't be safe for me in Shrike for quite some time. Say … forever.”

“It won't fail,” Aros said.

“Timing the departure is likely to be a bit dicey,” Gold observed, considering.

“It often is,” Neoloth said. “You go about your business. We'll be in touch.”

Gold drummed his fingers. “And if I have to leave?”

“Then we'll count on you being back in one moon. Otherwise … we'll make other arrangements.”

Gold's fleshy lips curled in a smile. “Your story is fairly sound. At least, it's reasonable that I'd have been taken in by it.”

“No one has ever accused you of keen perception,” Aros said.

“Nor fine taste in friends.”

“There's that. So we have our basic tale in place.”

“The only one that I'd trust you to keep straight,” Neoloth said to Aros. “You have no memory. But you have a few expensive things—perhaps things that might have been traded for the gems you had with you. And this—”

Neoloth handed him a belt buckle set with a gold coin—the coin from the child's grave, set against a silver frame.

“Well done,” Aros said. “Excellent work. And your man will keep his mouth sealed?”

“He will,” Gold said. “You say this was buried with him?”

“Yes. Which raises another set of questions,” Aros said. “Why bury a valuable coin with him? We spoke of this in the desert.”

Neoloth nodded. “It wouldn't seem to be an act of bandits, would it?”

“No…,” Aros said. “No. These waters might be deeper than we think.”

“You have your choice of the garments I've … collected over the years.”

Aros rummaged. “This. Hummm. And … this?”

“Your taste is less than impressive,” Neoloth said. “Here. Let me help you. Even without a memory, a princeling is likely to make better choices than that…”

*   *   *

Captain Gold had been watching their efforts for the better part of an hour. “Do you really think you can transform this sow's ear into a silk purse?”

“We have to try. There is, however, a limit even to magic…”

Aros stepped out from behind the screen. He was wearing expensive robes. For a moment they were taken by surprise. Despite the rude garments that now lay at Aros's feet, the finery looked surprisingly regal on him. The sweep of his shoulders and narrow waist brought the clothes to life.

The air in the room seemed to have stilled. “My … now, that's a proper princeling.”

“I have to admit…,” Neoloth began, and then caught himself.

“Yes?” Aros smiled.

“That you clean up adequately.”

Aros snorted. “You can stick ‘adequate' up your arse. Now this is more like it. I should have been dressing like this all along.”

Neoloth rolled his eyes. “Father Set … what have I done?”

*   *   *

They entered Shrike Harbor the next day. Its lighthouse was a fantastic sculpture of a two-headed bird of prey, certainly one of the wonders of the world. One head looked out to the horizon; the other, back at the inner bay. A half-dozen small ships of unusual design patrolled the outskirts. No sails, no oars.

Aros pointed. “What … are those?”

Gold frowned. “Never seen their like.”

One of the small ships pulled up alongside theirs. “Ahoy there! Prepare to receive boarders.”

“Welcome aboard, good sirs,” Gold said, smiling broadly.

“Do you know anything about those ships?” Aros asked Neoloth.

“I know that a sailor from the princess's fleet said that there were burning ships in the night.”

“But what are they?” Aros said. “They move against the wind without oars. Have they dragons in their bellies?”

Neoloth seemed just as puzzled. “I don't know. Dragons are near extinct. This is some kind of magic I've not seen.”

Lights shined up at them. Several men clambered up rope ladders. “I am Captain Nosturn,” the first said. “A harbormaster of Shrike. Who is in charge here?”

“I am Captain Gold.” Gold extended a hand. They shook.

“Your cargo?” Nosturn asked.

“Trade. Teas and fine woods. I've traded in Quillia before and have merchant contacts.”

Nosturn nodded. “Take me to the hold.”

*   *   *

Nosturn and Gold descended into the cargo hold. “Well stocked,” Nosturn said after examining. “Are you saying that you are fulfilling contracts? I'd like to see them.”

“No, sir,” Gold said. “I'm saying that on previous voyages, I've spoken to merchants who said they needed certain things, and I thought that if I could supply them, a bit o' business might be done.”

Aros straightened. “I would expect that the taxes on such transactions would be high…”

“And who might you be?” Nosturn asked.

“The name is Kasha.”

“And you are?”

Gold stepped into the breech. “Just a passenger. Paid good gold to take him and his man to Shrike.”

“And your business here?” Nosturn asked.

“I've heard that fighting men are valued in Shrike. And that the gambling palaces are second to none. Also, that the harbormaster is, upon occasion, allowed to collect taxes.”

The harbormaster scanned him. “Have you been in Shrike before, sir?”

Aros hunched his shoulders ruefully. “I don't know.”

“You don't … know?”

Aros laughed heartily. “No. I have no memory of anything before ten years ago. I woke up in the company of desert bandits, with nothing to identify me.”

The harbormaster looked at the belt buckle. “And where did you get this?”

“Ah,” Aros said. “I wore it as a bauble on a chain around my neck. Later we turned it into a belt buckle.”

“It's a good stone.”

“And carved like the harbor light of Shrike, I'd heard,” Aros said. “I knew I wanted to visit here. In truth … at times I feel pulled. At any rate, it is my understanding that harbormasters can collect taxes upon occasion. Certainly there is some fee for expediting all of this trouble.”

Nosturn smiled. “Well, for very special guests, all manner of things are possible.”

Aros paused a moment and then drew a small sack from his pocket and handed it to Nosturn.

“Very generous, sir.” Nosturn did a magic trick and made it disappear.

“And we ask that you make no mention of my master's arrival in Shrike, other than whatever proper channels you must go through to fulfill your obligations. We would like to keep … gossip and speculation to a minimum,” Neoloth said.

Another coin changed hands. The man bowed and smiled. “I think that all is in order here,” Nosturn said, and left.

Aros frowned. “I thought that the point was for rumors to get around.”

Neoloth seemed satisfied with the results. “I have found that there is no faster way to spread a rumor than to pay someone to hide it. I think we have begun our arrival auspiciously. Captain! Take us to port.”

Gold glowered at him. “I'll wait until yer master says the same.”

Aros smiled broadly. “Captain,” he said. “Take us in.”

*   *   *

As the ship came into the dock, Aros and Neoloth watched from the rail. Neoloth was dead sober. “What do you see?” he asked.

“A harbor. Much like many others. Of course there are the boats.”

Neoloth snorted. “I got a good, close look at the harbormaster's boat. Fire in its guts, and metal to hold it prisoner, but what for?”

“Magic.”

“There are other things,” Neoloth said. “The harbormaster, Nosturn. What was that thing he wore at his waist?”

Aros scratched his head. “I don't know. A little machine?”

“Yes. A little machine. But of what kind?
That
is the question. Do you know what it looked like to me?”

“I think I'm about to hear,” Aros growled.

“A small cannon. A
hand
cannon.”

Aros seemed doubtful. “I've seen them small enough to carry.”

“On the back of a strong man, yes. But this—”

They heard a shrill sound, a whistle originating from somewhere in the city, and Neoloth's eyes picked out a chimney with steam gushing out the top.

“And I don't know what that is,” Neoloth said. “What the purpose is, or how the sound was produced. Within a single hour, I've seen things, three things, I've never seen before. This place is a playground for a questing mind.”

*   *   *

When they docked, Aros gathered his things and then shook Gold's hand. “Thank you, old friend,” he said.

Dorgan seemed a bit downcast. “We wrestle again, little man?”

When my bones have healed
, Aros thought. But what he said was, “Another time.”

“Where to now, Master Kasha?” Neoloth asked.

“First, Washelisk, I think we find lodging.”

And they strode down the gangplank together. Neoloth carried the bags until they found a porter.

*   *   *

The inn Gold had recommended was called the Boar's Head. It was sturdy, of old brick, with a substantial garden out back.

“This looks good,” Aros said.

“A bit more upscale than your usual, I'd expect.” Neoloth sniffed. To him, it was dreadful. One becomes accustomed to better things.

“Pay the man,” Aros said.

The fat, greasy little innkeeper bowed. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Please enter and be welcome.”

“Thank you,” Aros said. “You see before you two weary travelers. We seek lodging and meals.”

“You have come to just the right place!” the innkeeper said. “We are honored to accommodate gentlemen such as yourselves.”

He took them up a stairway to a room with a view … of the castle.

Aros scanned the room. “Yes, I think that this will suit me well.”

“Have you been to Shrike before?” the innkeeper asked.

“Never,” Aros said. “From the harbor, I could see the castle. What is
that
?” He pointed at a series of low buildings arrayed before a black fence as tall as two men. The fence wound behind the palace and continued beyond his sight. It might well have abutted the shoreline, sealing off the city from … something beyond.

“Barracks,” the innkeeper said. “The king likes to keep his men close.”

Aros nodded soberly. “Very wise.”

There was a black wall between the barracks and a rocky promontory. It had been reinforced. It looked as foreboding as a prison fortress for Titans.

He pointed. “And … what is that?”

“And that … is something best left to itself. Strangers need to learn not to ask certain questions.” The man seemed ruffled that it had even come up.

He wiped his hands on his bloody shirt. “Now, then … Breakfast is at dawn, dinner at dusk. The room is twenty coppers a day, in advance.”

“Pay the man,” Aros said.

Neoloth did so, and the innkeeper left.

“So,” Aros said, perching on a table's edge.

“So now we learn what we can,” Neoloth said. “We will play it that Kasha is a gentleman of leisure, a soldier of fortune seeking adventure. You will sell your sword and skills.”

*   *   *

By the time the morning sun had fully risen, Aros and Neoloth were out exploring the capital city. They saw children in windows, but not on the streets. Odd.

“Have you noticed that, as well?” Aros asked.