City of Jade (40 page)

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Authors: Dennis McKiernan

BOOK: City of Jade
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“City of Jade, eh?” Aravan looked at the small sculpted tower. “Hmm . . . There is an ancient legend. One that was old when I first came to Mithgar. It tells of a city carved of jade that fell to some terrible fate. Perhaps this jade carving has something to do with that legend.”
 
 
Aravan then turned the statuette upside down and looked at the lines on the bottom. “Hmm . . . This could be a map, for it resembles a coastline, yet there are thousands of places along many shores similar to this. Even so, there might be some hint of where to look in the archives of the libraries in Caer Pendwyr. If so, we will look for the City of Jade after we deliver the cargo to Queen Dresha.”
 
 
“Good,” said Lissa, taking a small sip of brandy from her thimble-sized cup. “Should we go off searching for a lost city, mayhap at last Vex and I will again have something to do to earn our keep.”
 
 
Again Aravan looked at the figurine. He glanced at Aylis and said, “Following this to wherever it leads suits me well, for, as I said, this crew is meant for adventure, seeking out legend and fable. Mayhap this statuette will take us to something rare.”
 
 
 
They sailed the Alacca Straits with their cargo of fine porcelain and black lacquerware decorated in gold leaf with exotic designs. And just ere reaching the jagged rocks known as the Dragon Fangs, they sank two junks and three sampans filled with Jungarian pirates who had foolishly decided to attack the
Eroean
; this time the Dwarven crew on the starboard side loosed the fireballs that set the pirate ships aflame. And with falchions and axes and hammers in hand, the sailors and Dwarves grappled and winched and boarded one of the burning ships, the men shouting,
Eroean! Eroean!
and the Dwarves roaring,
Châkka shok! Châkka cor!
The pirate crew leapt into the sea rather than face the wild savages of the Elvenship.
 
 
That night they celebrated as they sailed southwestward for the distant Cape of Storms.
 
 
Southwesterly and southwesterly she sailed, but at last the
Eroean
came to the shoulder of the cape. And the wind had risen in strength and had risen again, and now the Elvenship beat to the windward into a shrieking gale. For though it was the height of the warm season in the south, the air chilled to frigidity and the wind shrieked in fury, as if Father Winter and Rualla raged together to show just who was master and mistress in this polar realm. Great grey waves, their crests foaming, broke over the bow and smashed down upon the decks with unnumbered tons of water, clutching and grasping at timber and wood and rope, at fittings, at sails, the huge greybeards seeking to drag off and drown whatever they could, whatever might be loose or loosened.
 
 
In the teeth of the blow Aravan again ordered all sails pulled but the stays, jibs, tops, and mains. And Men had struggled ’cross decks awash—cold, drenching waves dragging them off their feet and trying to hurl them overboard and into the icy brine; yet the safety lines held fast, and the crew made their way up into the rigging, the frigid wind tearing at them, shrieking and threatening to hurl them away. But the Men fought the elements, haling in the silken sail and lashing it ’round the yardarms and spars, while all about them the halyards howled in the wind like giant harp strings yowling in torment, sawn by the screaming gale.
 
 
On the very next watch the wind force increased, and once again the crew was dispatched onto the dangerous decks and up to the hazardous spars, this time at Nikolai’s command, and all jibs were pulled and the mains reefed to the last star. And now the ship ran mostly on the staysails and the upper and lower topsails, the
Eroean
flying less than a third of full silk.
 
 
The following watch Aravan took command, and after an hour or so, the wind picked up yet again, and the Elven captain ordered forth the crew to reef the mains and the crossjack to the full.
 
 

Diabolos,
Kapitan,” shouted Nikolai above the wind, “I t’ink if this keep up, soon we be sailing on yards alone.”
 
 
Aravan grinned at the second officer. “Mayhap, Nikolai. Mayhap. But if it’s to bare sticks we go, then backwards we will fare.”
 
 
Even though the galley was locked down for the heavy seas, its fire extinguished, still Nelon, ship’s cook, managed to brew tea, and Noddy made his way up through the trapdoor and into the small wheelhouse, the lad bearing a tray of steaming mugs. That he managed to carry the cups in the pitching ship without spilling a drop spoke well of his agility and balance. With a grin he passed the tray about to Aravan and Fat Jim and Nikolai, then disappeared belowdecks once more.
 
 
As Aravan sipped his tea, he wiped the condensation from the window and peered at the raging sea. “Vash! Here comes a wall.” Aravan quickly set his cup to the holder and called, “Pipe the crew on deck, Nikolai; we’ll need to change course.” And he took a grip on the wheel on one side while Fat Jim held the spokes across. “Prepare to come about. On the starboard bow quarter this tack.”
 
 
At the moment Nikolai opened the trap to go below and summon the crew, a blinding hurl of white engulfed the
Eroean
, the Cape of Storms living up to its name as wind-driven snow slammed horizontally across the Elvenship.
 
 
 
A sevenday plus two it took to round the cape, sometimes the
Eroean
seemingly driven abaft while at other times she surged ahead. And at all times the savage wind tore at her, while the greybeards struggled to wrench her down. Snow and ice weighed heavily on her rigging, and Men and Dwarves were sent aloft to break loose the pulleys so the ropes would run free. Tacking northwest up across the wind and southwest back down, Aravan sailed by dead reckoning, for no stars nor moon in the short nights did he see, nor sun in the long days. Nor did he see the southern aurora writhing far beyond the darkness above, shifting curtains of spectral light draped high in the icy skies, as if a strange wind blew out from the sun to illumine the polar nights.
 
 
Still, battered by wind and wave, the
Eroean
took nine full days before she could run clear on a northwesterly course, free of the cape at last, Aravan’s reckoning true, the crew superb in handling the craft and not a Man or Dwarf lost unto the grasping sea. Even so, all were weary, drained by this rugged pass, including her captain, a thing seldom seen by any of the crew. Yet finally the ship’s routine returned to something resembling normality though the winds yet blew agale, but they were steady on the larboard. And running on a course with the wind to the port, mains and crossjack and jibs back full, up into the Weston Ocean the Elvenship ran, the log line humming out at nineteen knots, the
Eroean
flying o’er the waves.
 
 
And once the ship was out of danger, Aravan fell into a deep sleep, and Aylis did not see him awake for a full two days.
 
 
 
A week later across the Doldrums of the Goat the
Eroean
fared, this time heading north, the ship laden with all sail set, yet moving slowly in the light air—“Slipping past the Horns of Old Billy,” as Noddy had said. Three days it took to cross the calms, three days ere the wind picked up again, now coming from abaft. North-northwest she drove, sweeping through the coastal waters of the wide Realm of Hyree.
 
 
Five days under full sail she ran on the northerly trek, the winds steady but moderate, until they came once more unto the Midline Irons, where they unshipped the gigs to tow the
Eroean
across the placid equatorial waters.
 
 
At last the winds returned, blowing lightly down from the northeast, and into these she fared, sailing through the gap between Hyree to the south and Vancha to the north, finally entering into the Avagon Sea along the Straits of Kistan. A day she coursed as the skies turned a sullen grey, and still to the north lay Vancha, but now to the south lay Kistan.
 
 
“Sail ho, crimson!” called the foremast lookout. “Sail ho on the larboard bow!”
 
 
Nikolai’s gaze swept the horizon forward and left, then stopped. A heartbeat later—“Ring alarm, Noddy, and stand by to pipe crew.”
 
 
Noddy hammered a tattoo upon the ship’s bell, and moments later crew and warband spilled onto the deck as Aravan came to the wheel. James stepped to Noddy’s side, but left the bosun whistle in the lad’s hands.
 
 
“Where away, Nikolai?”
 
 
“There, Kapitan,” replied the man from the Islands of Stone, pointing.
 
 
Just on the horizon, scarlet lateen sails could be discerned, a two-masted dhow heading downwind in the general direction of the Elvenship.
 
 
“Nikolai, bring the
Eroean
to a northeast heading. Put this rover on our starboard beam.”
 
 
“Aye-aye, Kapitan.”
 
 
Aravan turned to the wheelman. “Wooly, ready to bring her to the course laid in.”
 
 
“Aye, Captain.”
 
 
“Noddy, pipe the sails and then fetch Brekk.”
 
 
“Aye, Cap’n,” responded the cabin boy, and he blew the command and then handed the whistle to James and sped away.
 
 
As the
Eroean
came to the new heading, Brekk stepped to the wheel, the Dwarf accoutered for combat. “Where away?”
 
 
Aravan pointed.
 
 
Brekk looked long, then glanced up at the pale blue Elven-silk against the somber skies.
 
 
Aravan said, “Armsmaster, we should know within half a glass whether this Rover will be foolish or wise.”
 
 
Brekk grunted and said, “We will be ready.”
 
 
Then the Dwarf made a circuit of the ship to all the ballistas, readying the crews of missile casters for battle.
 
 
Steadily the Kistanian ship ran downwind west-southwest, and just as steadily the
Eroean
haled crosswind, northeasterly, up and toward the track of the freebooter. Time eked by, and still the Rover ran on his straight course, as did the Elvenship.
 
 
“Keep her on our beam, Nikolai.”
 
 
“Aye, Captain.”
 
 
“Wooly?”
 
 
“Aye, Captain, I’m ready, too.”
 
 
“James?”
 
 
“Ready as well, Captain.”
 
 
“Then pipe away.”
 
 
Gradually the
Eroean
headed up into the stiff wind, now running on an easterly reach. Still the crimson-sailed pirate fared southwesterly, running downwind, the vessel now nearing the Elvenship.
 
 
Of a sudden the raider changed course and fled toward the Isle of Kistan.
 
 
Down on the main deck, “Kruk!” barked Brekk. “Cowards all. She is afraid to take on
Eroean
.”
 
 
Beside him, Dokan said, “I think the Rover captain didn’t even see us until she was nigh upon us.”
 
 
Once again, Brekk glanced up at the cerulean sails against the dark grey skies, and then down at the indigo hull. Finally he looked toward the fleeing ship. Then he sighed and said, “Sometimes I wish we were harder to see.”
 
 
 
Ten days later in the heart of the night the
Eroean
haled into the wide waters of Hile Bay, and she docked at one of the stone piers below the city of Pendwyr.
 
 
All the next day and the one after the cargo was unladed, and new ballast was taken on to replace the weight of the porcelain ware, for it would not do to have the
Eroean
turn turtle at the first strong wind or great wave. When the ship was empty of cargo and laden with the proper ballast, Aravan had her tugged away from the docks to anchor in the bay.
 
 
He set the crew free to “do the town,” and knowing the crew as well as he did, he knew that most of them would try.
 
 
 
The very next morning, Aravan and Alyssa and Lissa and Vex all paid their respects to High King Ryon and Queen Dresha, Aylis and Lissa and Vex standing by as Dresha
ooh
ed and
aah
ed and murmured over the golden designs on black, while Aravan and Ryon stepped into the courtyard and flew arrows at distant targets.

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