Fire And Ice (Book 1) (40 page)

             
“That is good since I am leaving for there in a few hours,” the captain said, glad that the delivery would still take him home.  Some of the suspicion left him.  “Who do I give them to?”

             
Coran leaned a little closer, putting his elbows on the table.  “To the palace.  To the King himself.”

             
The captain swallowed at that.  He had to be wondering what could be so important, or maybe that the man before him was crazy.  “I suppose you want me to give it to him directly?”

             
“I do.”

             
“If I am to do that I will have to tell them who sent the letters.”  By his tone the captain was leaning towards crazy. 

             
“Coran Tyelin.”

             
The captain’s reaction was not what he expected.  His eyes narrowed and his face wrinkled in anger.  “If that is a joke it is not a funny one.  Lord Coran was highly thought of for his actions in Westland, and everyone approved of him and the Princess.  If you want your letters delivered or if you want to walk out of here alive you had better watch your tongue.”              

Coran leaned back in his chair in shock.  Then what the man had said sunk in.  “What do you mean was?”

              The Captain seemed less sure himself at Coran’s reaction.  Surely a man chastised so would not boldly ask another question, not when he was alone.  “The rumor started a while ago.  Everyone knows by now that word arrived in Summerhall of Lord Coran’s death.”

             
They thought he was dead.  How could that be?  Then he remembered the fight in the barn and the fire, and his sword.  That had been lost in the stable.  Someone must have found it and taken it back to Summerhall.  Delivering the letters was even more important now.  He had to put his trust in this captain.  “Almost three months ago Stemis sent me into the East to find out what was going on there.”  He pulled out the contents of his shirt and handed over the rolled map.  “This is the information he needs.”  He handed over the letter to the King.  “This gives additional information.  It is vital that he receive it.  Whatever you may believe, I am Coran Tyelin.”

             
The Captain stared at the papers in his hand like they were a venomous snake.  He glanced at the letter still in Coran’s hand.  “And that?”

             
Coran handed it over slower than the others.  “This is a personal letter from me to the Princess Katelyn.  I would ask that you give it to her directly as well.”  He waited for the man’s response.

             
“You seem to know a few things about Summerhall.  You could be who you say you are, or you could be a mad man, or an enemy trying to enlist me in sending false information to Summerhall,” the Captain stated.  “I have the benefit of a sister-in-law who works in the palace.  Not that she gossips about anything important you understand.  But she has talked about you before and you seem to fit the description.”  The Captain turned the letter over in his hands,  rubbing his fingers over the outside of the parchment.  “Even if I believe you might be who you say you are, they will not let me near the royal family without more proof than that.”

             
Coran thought for a moment.  Then an idea came to mind.  “Tell them this:  The first day of winter, I always keep my promises.  Katelyn will know what it means.”

             
The man nodded thoughtfully.  “I have to ask.  Why are you not taking it there yourself?”

             
“I made some other promises.  I have to stay here for a while.”  The frown on the other’s face said he would have to do better than that.  “I promised to help some locals take back the city.”

             
The captain’s eyes went wide.  Then he smiled.  “That sounds like the Coran I have heard about.  I will deliver your letters, unopened.  No one else will as much as touch them until I give them directly to the King and the Princess.  My word on it.”

             
They stood and shook hands across the table.  The door opened and Coran instinctively reached for his sword.  It was another Midian who entered.  He crossed the room to approach his captain.

             
“Sir?” he looked a question towards Coran.

             
“Go ahead.”

             
“There are some Karands gathering around the harbor gate, at least a score.”

             
The Captain glanced to Coran.  “For you?”  He waited for Coran’s nod.  “Do they know you are a Midian?”

             
“No.  They think I am an Anagassi.”

             
“Good.  Bols,” he called and one of his crew came over.  “Give me your coat.”  The man wordlessly took off his dark wool coat and handed it over.  “Put this on,” he told Coran. We are  heading back to the ship!” he announced and all the crewmen stood, downing what was left in their tankards.  “Let’s escort our newest member of the crew here.”  He patted Coran’s back.

             
Outside the crew moved in a group towards the ship with Coran in the middle.  The Karands were coming down from the gate.  Only half of the sailors around him had swords belted on.  If it came to a fight here, things could go badly.  The Karands reached the tavern and several went in while the rest waited outside.  They watched the door apprehensively.  Coran could see the ship’s mast and the dock two hundred yards away.  Shouting was heard back up by the guards and a quick glance showed that they were pointing his way. 

             
“They’re coming,” one of the sailors announced.

             
If they caught up and saw his clothes under the coat they would know.  Would the Captain hand him over to avoid a fight?  He had trusted him this far and it was proven a good decision again.  A hundred yards from the ship he looked back, the Karands were closing.

             
“Run!” the Captain ordered. 

             
They raced for the safety of the ship.  At the boarding plank they became jumbled together as everyone tried to cross at once.  Coran did not like being stuck in the pushing crowd of men with an enemy closing from behind.  He couldn’t see, and if necessary he couldn’t draw his sword.  Thankfully, they all made it across before the Karands reached them.  The Captain was last on board, and the plank was drawn up after him just as the Karands arrived.  The crew that had been left on the ship gaped at the sight of running men; when they saw what was happening they reached for the nearest weapons and manned the rails.  At the sight of an armed crew ready to defend their ship the Karands faltered. 

             
The one who must have been the leader stepped to the front.  “We need to search your ship for a renegade Karand,” he said in his Karandi accent.                

The Captain spread his arms to indicate everyone on board his ship.  “There are only Midians here, that I can promise you.  But if you wish to search my vessel you only have to come aboard.”  The crew grinned wickedly at the Karands. 

              With no real choice the leading Karand turned and left with his comrades in tow.  Coran was relieved to have gotten away without a fight.  He looked to the Captain who was fingering his beard with an expression tinged with regret.

             
“Problem Captain?”

             
“No.  I was just thinking how long it has been since I’ve had a good fight.  About four years I think.  Pirates out west.”

             
“We can go back if you want,” he said, amused.

             
The captain glanced at him and appeared to think about it.  “No, I guess not.  I have to deliver your letters remember.”

             
“And I need to get back to shore.”

             
“Don’t worry about that,” the Captain assured him.  “I know a small beach a couple of leagues down the shore.  I will put you in there.”

             
“Thank you, Captain,” he said sincerely.

             
“Call me Treska,” the Captain replied with a grin.

              The sun was sinking in the western sky by the time he found, and followed the passage back to the camp.  The first person he came across was Shirri.  She was sitting where the passage widened out into the walls of their camp as if she had been waiting for him.  She didn’t say a word.  She only looked at him, first with relief, that quickly changed to anger before she turned her back on him and went to her makeshift shelter.  The second person he met was Miko who gestured to a spot by the fire he was laying. 

             
“Mission accomplished?” he asked while fanning the flames he just lit. 

             
“Everything went as well as could be expected.  The letters are on their way to Summerhall.”  He slipped the sword out from his belt and sat down cross-legged.  Without the sun it was starting to get chilly and he regretted giving up the coat.  Of course it wasn’t his to begin with.  “You are not mad?”

             
“For what?  Going on your own?”  He shook his dark-haired head.  “Not really.  We all do what we have to do even when it is foolish.  The important thing is that it worked and you are well.”

             
Coran nodded at that.  That was the important thing.  He changed the subject.  “Is she still angry with me from what I said on the boat?”  He didn’t have to say who.

             
“I do not think so.  She is naturally angry.”

             
“Then why is it always worse around me?” he said.  He didn’t think it was his imagination.

             
Miko stared at the growing flames.  “I could be wrong, but it is probably because she does not know how to act around you, so she reverts to her natural way.”

             
He thought about that.  He didn’t think he was that complex a person.  What was so hard to understand about him?  “I don’t understand.”

             
“Let me try another way.  Do you find her attractive?”

             
He frowned, not sure where this was leading.  “Yes, she is an attractive woman.”  There was no denying that.  It was the truth.

             
“Are you married?” It was a rhetorical question since Miko knew the answer.              

“No.”

              “You saved her from a life of slavery, you are not married and you admit that you find her attractive.  Most men would have accepted her
thanks
by now.”  He said it significantly.  “You do not act like other men she has known.  You do things for others without concern for yourself, or expecting anything in return.  I have been lucky to live where I do, but many Karands have had to fight for what they have. 

             
“Take Crecy and the lands around here.  Twenty years ago this place was thriving with people.  Happy, well fed people.  Then came the wars.  Across the narrows to the south live the Shiomi under Tammaz.  He is independent of the southern Zahrs.  He fought with Crecy for control of the narrows.  For over ten years they fought until there was little left to fight over.  Crecy was run down by war and finally all leadership collapsed, along with the economy.  Tammaz’s lands were the same, but he remained in charge.  He took Crecy and now tries to rebuild his fortunes by controlling the trade between East and West.  It isn’t enough and so he lets others raid the land for slaves and whatever else they can find.  On the other side of the mountains they are having enough problems of their own to help here.  It is a tough life growing up around here.” 

             
Miko took out some bread and offered half to Coran which he took.  “The point is that all the men she has known look out for themselves first, or at least they expect something in return.  You remember she said that she was to be married?”

             
Coran nodded.  He didn’t trust himself to speak until he had given the situation more thought.  His decision to help liberate the Novelah was more justified than he had first believed.

             
“I talked with Ruan a little bit today.  Apparently, she did not grieve very much for his demise.  He was one of those bully boy types.”  He bit into the piece of bread he held.                

Coran knew the type himself.  He remembered a boy from his training days.  Aric, or Aldric, or something like that.  He was bigger than the other boys.  Coran was ten or eleven at the time and Katelyn was nine.  She was well into
her stage of wearing boys clothing in preference to fancy dresses.  Aric made the mistake of calling her the little Prince of Summerhall where Coran could hear.  Even after he got used to the missing teeth he was still a bully.  He just made sure who was listening before he spoke.  Aric was sent home a few months later.  He wasn’t as careful as he thought.

             
“So you are saying that she doesn’t trust me?  That is why she gets angry with me?” he asked.