A Crown Imperiled (17 page)

‘Agreed,’ said Calis, glancing at Miranda. ‘Anything?’

Miranda knew what the elf prince was asking, but she hadn’t told him yet that she wasn’t who he remembered and lacked the original Miranda’s ability to detect magic. She glanced over at the men and said only, ‘Nothing useful.’ She felt a familiar, distant sensation being near these four men, like almost remembering a name, or trying to place a faint aroma, maddeningly familiar but just beyond recall.

Nakor grinned. ‘I could go and poke at them.’

‘I don’t think that is wise,’ said Miranda.

‘Why?’ asked the little man.

‘I think they’re waiting for something. It might prove futile to do anything until that moment arrives.’ Her tone and expression communicated to Nakor that she was on the verge of recognition. He turned his head slowly and studied the four men, then his eyes widened slightly. He turned back and nodded almost imperceptibly. He now felt it too.

‘It might be too late,’ suggested Arkan. ‘I have spent little time among humans, save when trading in Raglam or Caern, but I have fought them and dealt with human prisoners.’ He lowered his voice. ‘These have the look of prisoners condemned to the mines.’

‘Not hopeless,’ said Nakor. ‘Resigned to their fate.’

‘They expect to die,’ said Calis. ‘Here, in this inn?’

‘I don’t think so,’ offered Miranda. ‘How much mischief can they start here?’

‘A nice brawl?’ asked Nakor with an evil glint in his eye.

‘As amusing as that might prove to be,’ said Calis, ‘Miranda is right. If those four are up to something, it’s not here. At some point I expect one or more to leave the inn.’

‘So we wait until they leave?’ asked Nakor.

‘And follow them,’ said Arkan.

‘What’s your interest?’ Nakor ask the moredhel.

‘Anything that gets me out of this reeking inn is my interest.’

Nakor raised his eyebrows in amusement and inclined his head as if he understood.

‘So we wait a bit longer,’ said Miranda with her first hint of impatience.

An hour wore on as the bubbling in the harbour continued. Martin finally grew bored with watching it and said to his brother, ‘If it’s a threat, it’s not immediate.’

Brendan nodded. ‘Though I wouldn’t discount it being a sudden one if whatever is going on out there is finished.’

‘What could cause such a thing?’ asked Bethany, standing at Martin’s side. She glanced at Brendan and Lily.

Lily said, ‘I’ve lived here my entire life and have seen nothing like it.’ Then her expression grew thoughtful. ‘But I know someone who might know.’

She vanished from the wall and a few minutes later returned followed by an old man. ‘This is Balwin,’ she said. ‘He’s the old harbourmaster.’

‘You ever see that before?’ asked Martin.

The old man was slender, but not frail. He looked wiry and fit for someone who appeared to be eighty or more. He squinted against the afternoon sun, now gleaming off the water in the distance and said, ‘No, but I’ve heard of its like.’

Suddenly Martin was interested. ‘Really? What?’

‘Story told me when I was a boy.’ Balwin grinned as he remembered, his leathery face wrinkling in amusement. ‘If I remember this right, it was the old imperial governor in LiMeth was behind it.’

LiMeth was the westernmost coastal city, little more than a convenient port for pirates and smugglers, in the Empire along the coast of the Bitter Sea.

‘Somebody or ’nother was foolish enough to go looking for gold up in the Trollhome Mountains.

‘Now, anyone who knows anything about the Trollhome knows there’s a reason they call it that. Mountain trolls everywhere, so it doesn’t matter how much gold is up there; you’re not going to get it unless you’ve got more guards than miners.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘So the governor decides he’s going to tunnel up from beneath the water, starting off shore and moving up through the bluffs to the west of LiMeth, right up into the guts of the Trollhome.’

‘What happened?’

The old man laughed. ‘Lot of miners drown is what I heard. But for a while it worked. Got some sort of magic-user to make some sort of air bubble and the men worked in that until they got up into the ground where they could drive an air shaft to the surface.’ He rubbed his chin as he remembered. ‘Thing was, water goes where it wants to go and seeks its own level, so as I heard it told, tide collapsed the lower end and the whole thing fell in on itself. Doubt the Governor even got enough gold out to pay for the cost. Anyway, the thing was when the magician had that air bubble in place, it leaked a bit and you could see bubbles rising to the surface. That’s what this reminds me of, that story.’

Martin and Brendan looked at one another. ‘Crossing the Bitter Sea underwater?’ asked Brendan.

‘Is it even possible?’ wondered Martin. ‘I mean, a stationary bubble. Men diving into the bubble then working up the mountain . . .’ He sighed. ‘I find that story hard enough to believe. Where are they tunnelling from? They’d have to start somewhere over there.’ He pointed to the south-west then leaned forward, behind the merlons on the wall, as if to see better. ‘We’d have seen anyone on the shore attempting any sort of mining.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a wonderful tale, my friend, but even this close to the city, tunnelling under the Bitter Sea is more than an army of dwarves could achieve in this short a period of time.’

‘Army of dwarves?’ said the old harbourmaster. ‘Never met a single one myself.’

Martin said, ‘I have, but that’s beside the point. If I could wish up a tunnel . . .’ He snapped his fingers.

Brendan said, ‘Magic tunnel?’

Martin looked concerned.

‘We really need a magician around, don’t we?’ asked Brendan.

Martin glanced at his brother then nodded. ‘Time was the Dukes of Crydee had one on staff for a reason.’ He peered out at the water. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a diver in town we can send down for a look?’

Harbourmaster Balwin said, ‘No, not many around here, and the few we had went off with the Duke’s army to the south. You’re free to try to find someone but most won’t dive that close to the city. Waters are too rough: got that tide-race to the south-west, and nothing but rocks to the south-east once you get past the beach over there. No reason to dive, ’cept salvaging. Even then not much visibility. But I may have a way for you to take a look if you’re willing to row out there.’ He paused, then smiled suddenly. ‘I’ll be right back.’ The old man turned and hurried away.

Less than ten minutes later he returned holding what looked to be a large wooden bucket. ‘This might help,’ he said, presenting it to Martin.

Martin turned it over and saw that it had a clear bottom. ‘What is this?’ he said, tapping on what looked to be clear glass but gave back a dull sound when struck.

‘Don’t rightly know. Some sort of crystal. Much tougher than glass. A salvager named Pevy used it outside the harbour, along the tide-race, when a ship went down. Very handy. Other lads would be diving off the side of their dinghies, searching, while Pevy and his boys would row around, looking down through this thing until they saw something, then the boys would dive right under it.’

Martin and Brendan exchanged glances, and the younger brother said, ‘I’ll go.’

Martin nodded. All three brothers had been raised on the coast, and by Crydee tradition had been apprenticed for a short while at every trade in the duchy, including fishing. Hal was the best sailor, Martin best at boat repair and gauging the weather, and Brendan was the best fisherman and diver.

Balwin said, ‘Get a little boat and launch off that beach down there—,’ he pointed to the south-east, towards the old fortification, ‘—and you won’t have to navigate through all those burned-out pilings and rubbish.’

Brendan said, ‘I’ll need someone to row while I look.’

Balwin said, ‘Old Pevy’s youngest son’s serving in the city muster. His brother’s do the diving, while he and his dad row. His boat is still in their shed. I’ll go fetch the lad for you. His name is Evard, but everyone calls him Ned.’

‘I’ll meet you down by the main gate,’ said Brendan. He nodded to his brother and Bethany, then impulsively kissed Lily hard on the mouth.

She nearly reeled from this unexpected display of affection and said, ‘My!’ Her cheeks flushed as she watched the young noble walk swiftly away.

Bethany’s eyes were wide and Martin tried very hard not to laugh aloud. After a moment Bethany said, ‘Well, I think he just let you know how he feels about things.’

Lily lowered her head slightly and tried to hide a grin as she quickly glanced around. ‘I wonder if George saw that?’

Bethany’s eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’

Lily said, ‘I like them both.’

Martin laughed. ‘Should we somehow survive all this, Brendan will some day be Baron of Carse.’

‘Oh?’ said Bethany, looking over her shoulder at Martin, who was standing behind her.

Glancing down at the gate, where Brendan was meeting a young, thick-necked boy in an ill-fitting tunic of the city watch, Martin said, ‘Hal will need me in Crydee more than in Carse, most likely to command the Jonril garrison. As you have no brothers, it will be up to Hal with the Prince of Krondor’s permission, to install someone in Carse
many many years from now
, when your father’s gone.’

Bethany’s expression turned anxious. ‘I wish I knew how he was.’

Trying to keep the tone light, Martin pressed on. ‘So, it’s the nephew of a minor functionary in Yabon or a baron.’

Lily said, ‘Oh, they are both very sweet.’

Martin laughed. ‘Follow your heart, then, Lily my darling. Just be gentle with whoever’s heart you break.’

Lily looked concerned.

‘Assuming we all survive this coming war and my brother doesn’t manage to go out and drown himself,’ added Martin.

All eyes turned to follow Brendan and the Pevy boy.

Brendan and Ned Pevy hurried along on the soot-covered stones of the street before the wall, all that was left of the foulborough. The Keshian raiders had been effective in ensuring everything above the tideline from the wall to the end of the longest dock had been burned to cinders. What few frames and beams had been left upright after the fire had crumbled in the first thunder storm to hit the city after the raid, leaving the entire area reeking of wet charcoal.

Ned led Brendan down to the north-east corner of the stone wharf and then up a small street lined by charred houses. These were still relatively intact: as they were not directly before the city gates, the Keshian raiders had ignored them. Only the spreading fire had been a threat.

‘Pa kept our boat up here,’ said Ned, pointing to a shed behind one of the buildings. ‘Ma’ll have a fit when she sees what those Keshians did to her house.’

Trudging up the small gravel path that ran between the Pevy home and the next one, Ned glanced at the back yard. ‘Don’t know how the garden’s going to go with all this smoke and ash.’ He shrugged as if it was of no importance.

He stopped at the entrance to the shed and pulled aside the bar, opening a single wooden door. On two saw-horses rested an overturned rowing boat. Ned moved to the rear and Brendan followed. Brendan knew what to do without being told. He lowered the bucket he carried and turned around and picked up the small boat by the gunwale and when Ned said ‘up’ he lifted with his right hand and put it on his shoulder, then put his left hand on it and when Ned again said ‘up’ again he lifted, grabbed the other gunwale with his right and hoisted the boat overhead. The two oars rattled under the seats as the two young men lifted.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Ya,’ came the answer.

‘Walk,’ said Brendan leading the way.

The boat was small enough, about twelve feet long. It was a fair hike to the water’s edge, past the burned-out piers, and Brendan was thankful they didn’t have a bigger boat to carry. A small rowing boat would get around the mess in the harbour, but even something as shallow draught as a longboat or captain’s gig would need to be hauled all the way down the sandy beach a half-mile farther along. The two young men moved to the water’s edge. Brendan swung around to present the boat sideways on to the water and they lowered the boat into the bay.

‘Done this before, have ya?’ said Ned with a grin.

‘Once or twice,’ said Brendan.

‘I’ll run and fetch that bucket, if you don’t mind,’ said Ned.

Brendan nodded. ‘I want to take a quick look around to make sure we’re not totally mad doing this.’

‘Sir,’ said Ned as he turned and scurried off back up the street to his house. Brendan found a piling that still rose above the street by two feet and stepped on it. He could see the frothing bubbles about three hundred yards from his current position. He couldn’t be sure but it looked as if the affected area was bigger and more agitated than before.

Ned returned with the viewing bucket and they got into the small boat, Brendan in the bow and the salvager’s son rowing. ‘Right to the bubbles,’ said Brendan.

Soon they were squarely in the middle of the bubbling water and Brendan put the bucket into the water, pressing it down hard to stop it flipping over, and looked down.

At first he couldn’t make out anything except the bubbles striking the crystal in the bottom of the bucket. ‘Stick your face in a bit,’ said Ned. ‘It’ll help get your eyes adjusted.’

Taking the experienced salvager’s advice, Brendan found that it was just big enough to accommodate his face and leaning in actually helped him keep the bucket in place. For a few moments the darkness below and the froth of bubbles confused his vision, but soon he began to see shapes and movement.

As his eyes adjusted he began to make out creatures busily scurrying across the bottom of the sea floor, perhaps a hundred feet below the boat. They were frog-like, man-sized, with large shoulders and narrow lower bodies, long legs and arms. The light was too dim and the distance too great for more detail, but just the sight of them made Brendan’s hair stand up on his neck and arms.

The creatures were churning up the sea bed. There was no tunnel of magic or bubble leaking air, but there was something buried under the mud of the ocean floor and they were clearing it away. Like ants swarming, they were constantly moving across an increasingly larger opening. The churning of the sea bed was releasing bubbles adhering to the surface of whatever was under the mud they were moving, and the rising bubbles further confused Brendan’s view.