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Chapter 6
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At the mouth of the Huiron Estuary where it joined the Jeduin River, a long jetty of stones marked either side of the channel. Sailboats, fishing trawlers, and smaller skiffs plied the waters, going out and coming in, stirring up waves that sloshed on the jetty rocks making them glisten in the early evening sun.
Loren stood in a back room on the top floor of the Post that served as her office and watched as the Gailorn was unloaded. The fluet rested majestically after its run to Brent, a trading town a half-day north of Quilar, all but a few of the hands gone ashore and to their homes. Or perhaps not so directly. The common room of the inn would be filling this time of day.
When she saw Sammel Clay down on the docks talking to the ship’s Captain, she turned, shaking her head. Sammel acted the overseer of the Post, except he did little work. He liked to give orders and intrude where he wasn’t really needed or wanted, prancing around as if he owned the operation instead of his cousin. The owner, Daryl Bryel tolerated him, but didn’t allow him any direct authority, unless he wasn’t around to stop him.
She was grateful that Sammel wasn’t really anyone’s overseer, or she wouldn’t be able to keep the business staffed. Sammel was difficult to work with, let alone for, and his habitual harassment of her often made her wonder why she remained. She wasn’t entirely sure why Daryl kept him on, other than they were distant cousins. That meant she had to deal with Sammel more often than she liked.
She turned back to the small table that served as her desk, a few sheaves of paper in hand, trying to concentrate on the figures in front of her. Her mind wandered, her thoughts dwelling on the man she had seen at the inn and the unexpected flash of an emotion she couldn’t quite name but felt fear was its closest relative. Peculiar to have such a start over a man. She supposed it was that oddity that brought him to mind again. She had to admit he was attractive enough to demand a look or two, and the way he had stared at her with such cold blue, penetrating eyes. In that instant, she felt like she knew him even when she knew she had never seen him before.
Her attention drifted to the Quilar Gazette on her desk and to a story barely two paragraphs long, describing a ship sighting farther down the river. The tone of the short article left no doubt in her mind that it wouldn’t be taken seriously. When she’d first seen the story that morning, she’d almost sent word to the paper to say that she had seen the ship too, and could provide a good description, but she didn’t. The poor man who’d made the report was ridiculed and called crazy. She didn’t want to join him.
She heard someone approaching and set the article aside, looking up when Marc Talryn, the Gailorn’s young Captain walked in. At twenty-two he was four years younger than she, though he carried a weight that made him seem older. Marc held out a thick leather-bound ledger that he dropped on her desk atop her other papers. He slumped down in the chair before her, running a hand through nearly black hair that curled along the top of his uniform collar. Thankfully, Sammel didn’t follow, though she expected she would hear from him later.
“Problems with Sammel?” she asked, smiling at the stormy look in his grey eyes.
“When isn’t there?” Marc retorted, then shook his head. “He wanted to see the manifest and I wouldn’t let him.”
“What would he want with that?”
“I don’t know and I didn’t wait to ask.”
“You’re in early,” she said.
“Is Daryl ever going to listen to me about Brent? We were attacked. No, no one was hurt. We got away ... this time. I’ll go tomorrow and the next, but likely face the same situation. Brent is in chaos. Greystone, however isn’t at war, and might prove more lucrative than anything Brent has had to offer in the last month, except of course, for the passage business I’ve been asked to take up. We’ve got more people on board than cargo, trying to escape.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Like he’ll listen this time. I told him it was getting too dangerous three days ago. He didn’t listen then. I could have lost the ship.”
“But you didn’t and no one was hurt, thankfully. He might listen this time, Marc.”
He shook his head. “Not likely, but you’re the one to convince him, as he now believes I’m some sort of coward.”
“He doesn’t think that. He wants to protect his interests in Brent and—”
“Oh, I know, show the flag and all that. Maybe when he starts losing gold he’ll change his mind.”
“Certainly then.”
Marc looked at her, his smile fading when his eyes dropped to her right hand. He reached forward, touching the ring she wore on her first finger. “Don’t you think it’s time you took this off?” he asked softly.
She pulled away. “I know.” She didn’t know what else to say, struggling with too many emotions.
“He didn’t want you to be alone.”
“I know that too.”
He shook his head. “Not ready to declare your availability? You have no idea how many men are waiting for you to take off that ring.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but the moment they find out what they’re getting they run like mad.” She laughed. “I’m not interested, and don’t you dare think you can give me a lecture about my age. I get enough of that from Mother.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He stood. “I’ll be down on the docks, then off to my prison.”
“Home, you mean.”
He turned at the door, giving her a sour look. “Yes, home.”
Loren departed for her own home a few hours later, lingering at the end of the pier where she kept her boat and watched the evening come in. Red, purple, and pink washed the western horizon as the sun set. She pulled in a deep breath of air. She never tired of it; the smell of the river, the look of it.
She thought briefly about the ship she’d seen, but forced the thought of it from her mind, looked at the sky and watched the colors change. Finally, she climbed aboard, quickly rigged the sails, and cast off. She decided halfway across the river that she didn’t want to spend the evening alone and changed course to head upstream into a small inlet. Bail’s Tavern stood back from the water by the span of a boardwalk. There were several other boats, small craft like her own, bobbing at the dock; many that she recognized.
Inside, she saw some of the men who sailed with Marc. They were a loud, boisterous group, though generally well behaved when they were out in public, and the most professional crew in all the territory when they were on duty. Right now they were relieving a little stress from the day’s exertions. There was a lot of laughter and good-natured japing. There were also a fair number of ladies, some wouldn’t call them that, circulating among the sailors, sitting in laps, and sometimes leading them off to one of the rooms along the side of the building.
Loren ignored all that and some of the looks she got for being there. She didn’t care what they did for a living and felt they shouldn’t care about her either. She moved through the room toward the back.
She found the Gailorn’s Captain settled at a table in the corner, sipping a large ale, and going over what she took to be the ship’s journal. Marc looked up as she joined him.
“I thought you were going home,” she said, motioning to the server.
“I decided I’d better write all this down, what happened today, before I forget it, and I do my best writing here.” He smiled and then nodded around the room. “And to make sure they don’t get too far out of hand.”
Loren nodded, only half believing him. She doubted he wanted to spend any more time at home than he had to. She’d tried to help him there, but found her words had little effect on him or his mother. Farina Talryn worried a little too much about her son and Marc resented the restrictions she insisted on. The Inquisitor’s judgment gave her the right to keep those restraints in place.
Loren shivered and sipped the wine the server brought her, wishing the reasons for Marc’s obligation to the Inquisitor didn’t exist. She knew he didn’t realize how close he’d come to losing the ship three months ago when he’d tried to take his own life, or how often his fitness to Captain the Gailorn came up in conversations between Daryl and Sammel, the latter frequently pressing his cousin to have Marc replaced. Sammel argued that anyone under the care of the Inquisitor shouldn’t have the responsibility of captaining a ship. Daryl always asked Loren what she thought and so far, followed her recommendations.
“Is something wrong?” Marc asked.
“No, nothing. I was just thinking of, well, things I shouldn’t dwell on.” She smiled weakly.
“You’re as bad as my mother,” Marc said, but smiled at her.
That he knew what she was thinking didn’t surprise her. Marc had a talent for knowing what was on her mind and with uncanny accuracy. “I can worry if I want.”
“I’m fine, Loren.” He sat back in his chair, setting aside his writing pen. “My problem right now is that no one believes I’m fine. Not you, not Inquisitor Sadek, not my mother. I’d be a lot better if everyone would stop tiptoeing around me like I’m going to fall apart at the mention of Matt’s name. He was my brother. I don’t think I should forget he existed.” He shook his head and muttered, “as if I could.”
“No one is suggesting you forget him, Marc, especially not me.”
“And no one is treating you like breakable porcelain either.” Loren stiffened, hardly able to believe he was saying that to her. She felt her temper rise, but Marc cut her off before she could say so. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I know what you went through. What you’re still going through. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Her anger faded and she smiled after a moment. “I know you didn’t. You’re entitled, every once in a while.”
“I don’t know why you put up with me.”
“Because I love you, that’s why. And you’re all of Matt I have left. Not an easy burden for you to carry, I know.”
“For you, not so very hard either,” he said. “I’m lucky I have you on my side. No one else is.”
“I keep telling you if you’d talk to your mother without getting angry at her, you’d find out that she’s on your side too.”
“You seem to think I haven’t tried. She doesn’t listen to me.”
Loren closed her eyes wearily and nodded. She’d heard him say the same thing many times before. She was suddenly very tired of thinking about it. Marc seemed more than tired of it. She saw stark weariness in his eyes and remembered that what he had to live with was far more difficult.
“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?” he asked, changing the subject. “Like what are you doing here when you’re usually home by now?”
Loren looked at him, knowing there was little point in denying it, not to Marc Talryn. “Did you read the Bulletin today?”
“Yes, the usual drivel.” As he spoke, she pulled the article out from her pack, removing it from the book she’d put it in. Marc saw the book and took it from her before she could stop him. “Where did you get this? This is—”
“I found it in Crey. That’s all you need know,” she said. Of course, Marc would realize, having been to her home in Crey a number of times, that there wasn’t anywhere in town where this book would exist. The Scholars Repository wouldn’t even have it.
“Found it where?” His gaze was direct and disconcerting. “You went to the Ruins.”
Loren frowned at him. “I did. A long time ago. The Ruins are right there near Crey. It was five years ago, Marc. I went exploring. I found this book, buried under some rubble.”
“And never told anyone about it like you’re supposed to.” Marc shook his head, handing the book back to her. “That is a Book of Legends, or at least a copy of it. If anyone finds out that you have it, you’ll be sent to the Inquisitor yourself. I can tell you, he isn’t a reasonable man.”
“I never told anyone since I wasn’t supposed to be in the Ruins to begin with. I trust you aren’t going to turn me in.”
“Of course I won’t. Put it away before anyone else sees what it is.”
“Like anyone else would recognize it. Most people don’t seem to believe the legends ever happened, much less that any artifacts actually survived the time.” She set the book back in her sack, covering it and then handed Marc the article she had memorized from looking at it too many times. He frowned over it while he read.
He nodded. “I saw it and paid it as much mind as the writer intended. Don’t tell me you believe this?”
“I saw the ship too.”
Marc opened his mouth, ready to laugh until he saw her serious expression. “All right. You think you saw it. Tell me what happened.”
Loren explained what she had seen, keeping her voice low. There weren’t any other patrons near their table and the noise level precluded anyone overhearing her. When she finished, she retrieved the Book of Legends from her bag again, opening it to the passage she also had committed to memory. “Before the Conquest, a lone craft flew through the night sky. Its coming heralded the onslaught, the time of darkness, when the skies were filled with flying ships that rained death on the land.”
“Loren, I don’t know what you saw, but I can’t believe that it means the supposed Conquest is coming again.”
“Doesn’t it? This book describes the ship I saw Marc and it was written over nine Ages ago.”
“It can only be coincidence. There have been other sightings before yours and nothing has happened.”
“So far.”
Marc laughed. “And the Inquisitor thinks I’m crazy.”
Loren glared at him, snatched her book back and put it away. “I should have known you wouldn’t take this seriously.”
“I do, just not quite so seriously as you. Do you think the ship landed?”
“Yes.”
“Then why haven’t we been attacked, if this is the start of another Conquest?”
“You don’t believe the first Conquest really happened, do you?”
“No and I’m not alone in that.”
“Then why are the Books outlawed? Why aren’t we supposed to read them?”
“Because too many people have way too active imaginations. The resulting panic would be worse than the Conquest was ever reported to be.”
“I did not imagine that ship.”
Marc glanced behind her, leaning closer. “You want to keep your voice down? I didn’t say you imagined it.”
“So what was it then?” Loren asked, casually looking over her shoulder. She noticed the brief drop in conversation, but no one was watching them now.
“I don’t know, but if you’re that worried about it, maybe I should say something to my father.”
She shook her head quickly. “He’d be obligated to report it to the Council and I doubt he’d want me sent to the Inquisitor.”
Marc grunted. “He doesn’t seem to mind my going, so I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” He waved off her reply. “No, you’re right. He would have to take your claim to Council and you would end up seeing Sadek. What do you want me to say ... or do? Why don’t you come stay at the house for a few days?”
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. You don’t believe me anyway, so there’s no point in your saying or doing anything. I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Forgive me my skepticism. You’d do well to add a little to your life.”
“There’s a passage about you and Matt in this book too,” she said.
Marc froze for an instant, but shook his head with a slight laugh. “Now you are imagining things.”
“No, I’m not. It talks about the knowing, Marc, but it isn’t called that. They call it telepathy and define it as the ability to hear another person’s thoughts. Sound familiar?”
“Only slightly. I could hear Matt. We were twins. I don’t hear anyone else’s thoughts and never have. I’m not a, what did you call it, a telepathy.”
“Telepath.” She didn’t mention how often he knew exactly what she was thinking. He wouldn’t see it that way, claiming instead that he was only slightly more observant. “I just thought it more than a little interesting that something you could do was mentioned, that’s all.” Loren could see by his expression that Marc didn’t think it interesting at all, but ridiculous. “All right,” she said and finished her wine. “I won’t pester you with this anymore. You finish your journal. I’m going home.”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“No. I expected you’d react this way. I shouldn’t have said anything about it.”
“Why did you?”
She paused a moment. “I needed to tell someone and you’re the only one I can trust.”
He smiled. “Do you want me to follow you home?”
“I already said I’d be fine.” She stood and he rose with her. “I’m sure, Marc. I’ll be all right.”
“If you stop being sure, let me know. There’s plenty of room at the house and Mother would love it.”
“I know. Tell her I’ll be by for a visit soon. The Holidays are coming up...” She stopped, lowering her eyes. She and Matt were to have been married at the High Day Festival.
Marc smiled and took her hands. “Remember, the Holidays are for renewal and reflection. Matt wouldn’t want us to waste the festivals mourning him.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” she said. She couldn’t keep the grief she still felt, so sharply at times from showing in her eyes. She forced a smile. “I only have the High Days away from the Post. Tell Farina I would love to spend them with your family.”
“Your family too. You might not have been married to Matt, but you know Mother and Father don’t feel that way.”
She nodded again, her smile genuine this time. “I’ll see you in the morning. You look tired. Don’t stay out too late.”
“I’ll be gone at first light.”
“Come see me when you get in then.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good night.”
By the time she reached her newly constructed dock, darkness had settled over her home. It promised to be a cool, brilliant night and she smiled, gazing up at the stars. That smile faded with memory as her gaze shifted to the tree line, pausing to look over the woods by her neighbor’s home.
Again she pushed the thought of the ship from her mind, remaining at the dock to tidy up her boat for the next morning, carefully coiling ropes and putting everything in its place. By the time she finished, it was fully dark, and she walked slowly up to her porch. The sound of hooves on the path to the road stopped her from going inside. She frowned, wondering who would be coming to her house at this hour of night. Her curiosity grew when the sound drifted off toward her neighbor’s home. She wondered suddenly if Ramin Yeld had actually moved in.
