Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 03 (25 page)

 
          
"Nineteen,”
said Tepshen.
“Seven warriors, the rest oarsmen.
Fifteen more were injured.”

 
          
Kedryn
was chagrined.
“The survivors?”

 
          
“Our
Tamurin I sent home,” said the kyo. “The rivermen await a southbound vessel.”

 
          
“I
must send word to Andurel,” Kedryn murmured. “And order compensation for the
families of those slain.”

 
          
Tepshen
nodded his agreement, but said, “Your council will not likely approve our
venture.”

 
          
“No.”
Kedryn smiled tightly, the curving of his lips humorless. “But by the time word
reaches the city we shall be long gone.”

 
          
“Galen
would make a reliable courier,” suggested Brannoc, “and he will be confined
here for some time yet
. ”

 
          
“Aye.”
Kedryn smiled his thanks.
“An
excellent suggestion.
Now let us find him.”

 
          
They
found the giant river captain in a room farther down the corridor. He dwarfed
the bed, his girth thrusting up the sheets in a mound of sunlit white, his
ruddy features less than amiable, though he cheered a little as they entered.

 
          
“Kedryn!”
he cried. “I am happy to see you on your feet.”

 
          
“And
I am sorry to see you
laid
low,” returned the younger
man.

 
          
Galen
shrugged as best he could, his moon-round face darkening as he grumbled, “I
have never lost a vessel before this.”

 
          
“
You—nor
any other—have ever faced such a hazard,” Kedryn
said. “You were not to blame.”

 
          
“And Wynett?”
Galen spoke the name lowly, afraid of causing
grief.

 
          
“Gerat
believes she lives.” Kedryn eased gingerly onto a chair. “Once I am healed we
go to seek her.”

 
          
Disbelief
showed in Galen’s eyes and Kedryn explained the nature of Gerat’s discourse.

 
          
“So,”
the riverman murmured when he had finished, “you ride against a god.
Would that I might accompany you.”

 
          
“I
have another task for you,” Kedryn told him, “if you agree.”

 
          
“Of
course,” Galen nodded enthusiastically, wincing as the movement shafted pain
through his broken bones.
“Whatever you command.”

 
          
“I
must send word to Andurel,” Kedryn said.
“To my father.
I shall prepare the message before we leave, but I would not have it reach the
council in time for mehdri to overtake us with dissuasions.”

 
          
Galen
nodded again, this time more cautiously, and gently patted the mounded sheets.
“These ribs of mine will be some time knitting,” he smiled, “or so the good
Sisters tell me. If you depart within the next few days I doubt I shall be in
fit state to journey south for several more;
And
I
shall needs find passage on a passing craft, so you will be into the Beltrevan
before Andurel hears the news.”

 
          
“Thank
you,” Kedryn smiled.

 
          
“It
is the least I can do,” said Galen. “Is there nothing more? Would you have me
advise Bedyr to march an army north?”

 
          
“No.”
Kedryn shook his head. “An army cannot enter where we go, and my father can serve
the Kingdoms better in Andurel.”

 
          
Unspoken
was the thought that should he not return the council would need to choose
another king, and it imposed a moment of somber silence upon them.

 
          
Brannoc
ended it as though he, like Kedryn, preferred not to dwell upon the less
optimistic possibilities: “Do the Sisters tend you well?”

 
          
“Excellently,”
Galen answered, “save for a most curious denial of a riverman’s most cherished
nourishment.”

 
          
Brannoc
nodded sagely. “Fear not—we are permitted to exercise ourselves a little and
might well return with evshan.”

 
          
“Were
that the case,” said Galen with ponderous solemnity, “and were a flask or two
to find its way to my chamber, I should be forever in your debt.”

 
          
Brannoc
tapped his nose in a conspiratorial gesture and they rose, leaving the heavily
bandaged riverman alone again.

 
          
They
went into the ward of the little hospital, where Kedryn spoke with the wounded,
reassuring them and promising them reparation for their injuries, then found
their way into the town.

 
          
Summer
touched Tamur now and the air was warm, a refreshing breeze blowing off the
Idre, the sun shining golden from a near-cloudless sky, where larks darted and
sparrows fluttered busily about the rooftops and streets, vying with raucous
gulls for the bounty to be found along the waterfront. Gennyf was tiny in
comparison with Andurel, but for Tamur it was a settlement of respectable size,
both a fishing port and a jumping- off place for the long trail into the
heartland. The road to Caitin Hold began here, cutting west and north from the
river to cross the lowlands before rising up the scarp of the central plateau
to breast the Geflyn and roll on to Kedryn’s home. How long
might
it
be before he saw that place again, he wondered as they strolled
toward the river. How long before he saw Wynett again? Unconsciously he
inserted a hand beneath his shirt, clutching the talisman that he might again
experience that reassuring warmth, confident that so long as he could feel that
vibrancy hope remained.

 
          
“We
shall bring her back,” Tepshen murmured, noticing what he did.

 
          
“Aye,”
said Kedryn, and forced
himself
to let go the stone.

 
          
They
walked on across the square surrounding the hospice and found a road that went
down between low houses, their stuccoed walls bright in the sun, to the banks
of the Idre. The town was quiet, going about its own business, and the
informality, after the ceremoniousness of Andurel, was refreshing as the
breeze. Those who recognized Kedryn did little more than murmur brief
condolences, characteristic of the Tamurin not wishing to intrude upon what
they felt was private grief, and he reached the riverside feeling
simultaneously more at home than in long weeks and gripped by a terrible
impatience to be gone again.

 
          
Warehouses
faced the river here and they turned to stroll past the looming buildings to
where nets were strung out to dry, tended by fishermen whose boats bobbed on
the swell, their tanned faces incurious as they glanced at the trio of
strangers. Kedryn paused, staring across the river. It shone a silvery blue,
tranquil, without any hint of the terrible menace that had so recently risen
from its depths. The far bank was lost in the distance, sky and water seeming
to merge in a fusion of dazzling azure, while to north and south the great
waterway rolled smoothly to the horizons, implacable as fate. There was no sign
of the royal barge and Kedryn turned to ask of his companions what had become
of the vessel.

 
          
“It
sank,” said Tepshen, succinctly.

 
          
“The
beast crippled her,” Brannoc expanded. “Fortunately for us there were
fisherfolk out and they brought the survivors off. Had they not come to our aid
likely more would have
died.
”

 
          
Kedryn
nodded, saying nothing, his eyes fixed on the water. It occurred to him that
none of them had suggested taking a boat north, as if it were tacitly
understood that they preferred to travel overland, regarding the Idre as
potentially dangerous now.

 
          
“Let
us find a tavern,” he suggested at last, feeling he had seen as much of the
river as he wanted; for a long time.

 
          
They
moved away from the water, turning back into the town, and found a
cheerful-looking alehouse with benches and rough-hewn tables set outside in a
small courtyard where apple trees flourished white blossoms above the
sun-warmed flagstones.

 
          
It
felt good to sit in the open air, the.
breeze
soft on
their skin, and sip the cool ale the serving wench brought them, though the
calm exterior each presented was more facade than reality, for each hid private
thoughts of the future and their quietude was that of warriors before battle.
They drank the dark beer and requested food, eating platters of cold meats and
cheese, with bread, and then more beer, speaking little for there seemed little
to say. Finally Kedryn felt he could sit no longer and suggested they deliver
Galen his evshan and explore the town, purchasing two flasks that were secreted
under tunics as they went back to the hospice.

 
          
Galen
greeted them with more cheerful aspect when they produced the liquor and they
sat a while with the riverman, sipping the fierce brew, until a Sister chased
them out, confiscating—much to Galen’s distress—the flasks that she declared
would be kept for him.

 
          
“Sister!”
he cried dramatically. “You do not know rivermen! Do you not know that evshan
is the finest cure for whatever ails us? We are not like you land-dwellers—we
need that balm to fuel us.”

 
          
The
Sister turned calm eyes on the moon-faced giant, a small smile twitching the
corners of her mouth, and said, “Mayhap you shall be allowed a mug or two after
your evening meal, but for now you must sleep. Drink this instead.”

 
          
She
poured a draft that she held to his lips, ignoring his stricken countenance.
Kedryn and the others watched from the doorway, amused at the grief he
pantomimed, his eyes rolling as he allowed the diminutive woman to tilt the mug
and swallowed with a grimace of distaste. The Sister nodded approvingly and set
the cup aside, watching as Galen’s lids grew heavy and his eyes closed. Within
seconds stentorian rumbles echoed from the walls and the Sister left the room,
fixing the three onlookers with a stem gaze.

 
          
“You
should have sought our permission before bringing him evshan,” she informed
them, rank meaningless here in the domain of the Sorority. “There is no harm in
it, but that great tub is likely to drink
himself
to a
state of agitation from sheer boredom. And should so large a man be drunk, we
should find it difficult to control him.”

 
          
“He
is a difficult man to control at the best of times,” Brannoc said solemnly,
“but it was his majesty’s wish we bring him the liquor he requested.”

 
          
“There
are no kings here,” the Sister retorted brusquely, “only patients in need of
care. Now find yourselves something to do.”

 
          
Dutifully,
they nodded and made themselves scarce, wandering back into the town.

 
          
By
late afternoon they had explored Gennyf from die waterfront to the small
holdings that bordered the landward perimeters. A stable was found bearing the
insignia of the mehdri on its board and they selected three good mounts that
the ostler promised to have in prime condition for their departure, together
with tack, and with litde else to occupy their attention they made their way to
the hospice again.

 
          
Gerat
awaited them, asking them to enter the room set aside for her use.

 
          
“You
have had the day to think on it,” she declared. “What is your decision?”

 
          
Tepshen
stared at her as though he did not understand her words; Brannoc shrugged and
said, “Our decision was made this morning, Sister.”