38

Hyam’s troops had seized three riverboats and ordered them ready for immediate departure. They had also promised their captain full payment. But the man insisted upon hearing it straight from Hyam. When they crossed the gangplank, they heard the skipper shout, “Gold! I’ll take you to the gates of doom for gold! But you try and steal from me and I’ll ram the banks and set my vessels alight. You see if I don’t!”

The man was short and stumpy and bearded, and he smelled. Hyam liked him on sight. “I have gold. But I need to know the price is fair and the vessels seaworthy.”

“River worthy, you mean. Take this sow into the open waves, and you’ll die screaming about the fool the ocean has shown you to be.” He planted small fists on his hips and demanded, “You lead this band of pirates?”

“I direct this honorable company, yes.”

“Wastrels, the lot of them. They spill uninvited onto my vessels and tell me I’m headed for Port Sutton. Why should I, I ask this one. And how does he respond but offer to show me the edge of his blade.”

“We are under pressure, you see. But I assure you the good man meant nothing by it. Adler, apologize to the captain.”

The officer’s response was decidedly something else. Even so, the skipper grinned his approval. “I suppose you’re the lot who tweaked the dragon’s nose and burned the earl out of house and home.”

“We did.”

The captain turned and eyed the smoldering castle with evident approval. “Never did like the man. All right. Show me your gold and let’s bid this burning city a swift farewell.”

The captain’s name was Gimmit and he had nothing good to say about anyone or anything. He saved his harshest comments for his five sons, all of whom could have lifted their father one-handed and flung him far across the river’s silken waters. The youngest did not yet shave and already towered a full head above Hyam. They shared the same ready smile filled with teeth the size of paving stones, which had to have been a gift from their mother, for Gimmit’s teeth were ground down to yellow nubs.

The only man taller than the largest of Gimmit’s sons was Gault, the Havering soldier. The squire’s former man-at-arms arrived just as the second boat was pushing off. Gault led twenty-seven other troopers, a full company minus two who were too sick to travel. Adler did not want them, but the desperation in their voices swayed even him.

The three vessels were each eighty paces long and broad at the beam and stable enough to keep calm the dozen horses Hyam’s troops had brought along. They were also very slow. The boats were equipped with lateen sails that the captain refused to raise at night. The riverbank drifted by at a walking pace, and Hyam knew they had to move faster. But the skipper was adamant. “If your goal is to plant your sorry hide on the shoals and gut my ladies, then yes, I’ll raise my sails. But only after you hand me their weight in gold.”

Hyam knew he had no choice but to show his hand. “What would you require to speed up and remain in total safety?”

The skipper had a vicious laugh. “To see the sun rise in the west!”

“I’m serious.”

“As am I!” He pointed downriver. “Ten leagues and three bends from now, rocks rise like jagged teeth. They are black and they are hungry. In the daylight you’ll see the wreckage of vessels skippered by fools who dared ride a rushing spring flood like this, thinking it would keep them safe.”

“There is no rush to our pace,” Hyam protested.

“Wait until you must travel against the stream, and you’ll understand how slow a river journey can be.” The skipper spat over the gunnel. “The worst of the river’s teeth are hidden just below the surface. They’ll gnaw at our belly and gut my ladies. If I let them. Which I won’t.”

“My question still stands. What would you need—”

“A thousand torches, which we don’t have. And a wind blowing straight from our stern, one that twists and turns in line with the river.” The skipper settled one hand on the tiller, testing the river’s currents through his fingers. “Go to sleep, lad. The river has its own . . .”

He stopped talking as Hyam took the sack off Trace’s shoulder, the one where Joelle had slipped the orb. Hyam clambered atop the central hold. And he searched.

Reconnecting with the orb carried an exultant joy so fierce he reveled a moment before extending his awareness outward. What he had sensed upon setting off became clearer still. Far beneath the earth’s surface, a current of power ran in line with the river’s course.

He lifted his hands over his head, drawing the power up and into the orb. Once this bond was forged, he fashioned the energy into three brilliant lights. One for each of the bows. The light transformed the surrounding fields and dressed the rocky shoreline in a violet glow. He turned to the astounded captain and said, “Raise your sails. I will give you your wind.”