(-a/n- I've been at it again…compelled to write by all of your fabulous reviews :D I really, really want to get the majority of this fic finished by the time I go back to school in September…well we'll see how that goes…here's no. 46 to keep you all out of mischief for ten minutes or so…
Sorry it wasn't up earlier, this is down to two things –I have discovered a liking for the programme Bones and have been watching far too much of it online! Secondly I don't like writing travelling scenes; it's hard to get the balance between moving the pace on at a speed that it doesn't get boring, but not so fast that it's shoddy. Grr. I hope this chapter's okay!
If any of you are interested, this and the last chapter were inspired by a pretty song 'The call' by Regina Spektor. Look it up on youtube :D
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed :D I'll try to answer any questions that you've got, but it's late and I don't have the energy to type up all of your names. You know who you are and if you were kind enough to leave a message -author sends a big virtual hug- you make all the hours at my computer worthwhile! )
Confusedknight xx
The harbour at Maeslund contained an array of ships ranging from small, two person skiffs to large merchant ships that could transport large collections of materials or animals. Kel lead Prince along the wooden pathways, watching the ships bob up and down with the ever shifting sea. She was searching for the harbourmaster's office. Kel reasoned that it would be there that she could enquire as to which ships were leaving and where they would be headed.
At last she spotted a shack at the end of one of the many walk-ways. Built from wood and crusted with white salt from the sea, one frail door hung open. Kel approached the office, stepping to the side and pausing to allow a man to pass. He scowled at Kel in disapproval of her large horse. Kel ignored him and entered the hut, leaving Prince to stand and wait outside.
'Excuse me,' she enquired politely. 'Are any ships destined to sail to Tortall?'
The harassed looking man looked up from his task of paper shuffling, an incredulous look on his face. 'To Tortall?'
Kel nodded.
'Lass no ships go to Tortall anymore, the border's been closed ain't it?' His eyes held suspicion in their pale depths, as though trying to detect if the girl that stood before him was wasting his time on purpose.
'Well what's the furthest place I can buy passage to?' asked Kel, a slight trace of impatience entering her voice.
'The Runner's set to leave for Hamrkeng tomorrow morn,' he replied, not needing to check his books. 'Takin' a fur shipment south. You'll be wantin' to talk to Captain Rinnen.'
'And where can I find Captain Rinnen?'
'Take the firs' left and keep walkin', Runner's a fine lady, white and red sail; can't miss 'er.'
Kel bowed and left the shack, leaving behind a rather bemused harbourmaster. Following the instructions she soon stood before the Runner. Kel looked at the peeling paint, the barnacle speckled hull and fraying ropes. She wouldn't personally have described the boat as a "fine lady" but it would be an awful lot quicker to sail to Hamrkeng even in this slightly run down merchant vessel, than to brave weeks in the saddle.
Unable to see anyone, Kel hammered her fist on the salty wood. After a moments pause a man with dark brown hair emerged from below the decks. His dark hair was a novelty in Scanra and Kel caught herself staring. Immediately she ducked her gaze, embarrassed.
'Can I help you miss?' called the sailor in a strange accent.
'I'm looking to buy a passage to Hamrkeng for me and my horse.'
The sailor looked dubiously at Prince who stood just over seventeen hands high. 'I'll get th'Captain,' he mumbled and disappeared again.
A few moments later a small man with stringy muscles and chapped skin appeared. His beard, like his dark hair was wiry and peppered with grey.
'We're full up with furs down below,' he told Kel.
'I don't mind sleeping on deck,' said Kel hurriedly. 'I just need to get to Hamrkeng as quickly as possible.'
The man looked her up and down, dubiously. 'It'll cost you, especially with that horse of yours.'
'How much?'
The man considered the odd pair. 'For a passage on deck with three meals a day…nine gold pieces.'
'Six,' countered Kel.
'Eight,' he replied, accustomed to haggling over prices.
'Seven and a silver bit,' said Kel.
'Agreed', said the man, pretending to be disgruntled.
From a hidden compartment in Prince's saddle Kel drew out the necessary coins. In her last frantic minutes at Somalkt, Alex had stuffed as much money as he could into the pouch; not wanting it to fall into Maggur's hands. Kel rode with a small fortune tucked away. It would certainly be enough to keep her from going hungry when she returned to Tortall.
The man ogled slightly at the sudden appearance of the money.
'I'll pay you half when we leave the harbour and the second half when we arrive in Hamrkeng,' said Kel, showing him that she could afford the expensive journey.
'Fair enough,' agreed the captain. 'We leave tomorrow at sunrise, when the tide's high. You can sleep on the deck tonight if you want.'
Kel shook her head. 'I'll be there, sunrise tomorrow.'
Stowing the money, she bowed once to the sailors and turned Prince carefully on the narrow path. She had about twelve hours to spare and intended to buy a few things in the town.
She intended to buy some new clothes, so that when she entered Tortall she wouldn't draw too much attention to herself. It didn't take Kel long to find a shop that stocked plain working clothes. Again she left Prince un-tethered outside, confident in her belief that Prince would neither wander off nor let anyone else take him away.
As she entered the dark and pokey shop a tinny bell rang madly, alerting the tailor to her presence. The short man bowed politely. 'Are you in search of anything in particular miss?'
'Some plain shirts and breeches,' replied Kel gesturing to her attire. 'They need to be hardwearing mind.'
'Oh absolutely,' he agreed, shaking his head emphatically. 'I'm sure we have exactly what you're looking for.'
The man almost tripped over himself in his eagerness to fetch a small stool, which he then placed alongside a teetering set of shelves. 'Any colour preferences?' he called over his shoulder.
'Plain…' Kel shrugged, more interested in the clothes being clean than anything else.
'Here here,' squeaked the man, stepping down with his arms full of clothes. He laid the garments, which varied considerably in style and colour on a table so that Kel could inspect them with ease.
Kel picked out two pairs of dark brown breeches made from sturdy material that looked as though it could endure weeks of riding. Although the tailor had selected shirts in colours that ranged from a deep russet red, to pale greens and brilliant blues, Kel chose the un-dyed linen that was worn by most of the working class.
'I'll take these please,' said Kel, handing the slightly disappointed man the breeches and two shirts.
After paying and leaving a small tip, Kel returned to the bright sunlight of the scanran afternoon. As she walked through the quirky little town, she passed a fruit seller and purchased two apples. Prince devoured his in three juicy bites, but Kel took longer to eat hers, savouring the apple's cool, sweet taste.
Walking along, Kel wondered what she should do next; she had no desire to wait on the ship's deck all night. She considered searching to see if there was a bathhouse anywhere, but then decided that it would be a waste of money as onboard a ship she was likely to get covered in saltwater and dirt anyway.
In the end Kel and Prince spent the night on a hill overlooking the small town. Kel settled down barely noticed the discomfort of the hard, compacted earth and prickly grass. From her position she could see right out across the bay, the inky darkness of the sea against the scattered reflections of the moon's light. The small fishing town lay sleeping, all but a few lights extinguished.
A salty breeze caressed her skin and Kel found herself thinking that at least it was cooler to sleep outside. The darkness did not bother her; Prince was as good as any guard dog and wouldn't let anyone approach without her knowledge.
The stars winked down at Kel, keeping their silent vigil. She tried counting them; a game that she had played ever since she had been very small. Slowly Kel's eyelids drooped and she fell into a light sleep.
Waking up before dawn was no difficultly to Kel, who was still sleeping badly. Every time she woke up drenched in cold sweat, her muscles aching from being clenched, she gritted her teeth and told herself over and over that the dreams would get better in time. After all, she rarely dreamt of the tauros anymore. She would just have to endure them while they lasted.
Yawning, and accompanied by that horrible feeling of having slept but not recovered any energy from it, she stumbled through the semi-darkness down into the town. Unlike Somalkt, Maeslund was a hive of activity even before the sun had risen; the many fishermen were readying their boats in preparation for a long day's work. It took Kel less than ten minutes to find the Runner again and after a little cajoling –Prince still disliked boats- the two of them were safely onboard.
A tanned sailor pulled up the anchor whilst another unfurled the mainsail. The offshore breeze caught gently in the material, teasing it until it danced and fluttered. The captain eased the mainsheet through a pulley, letting the boom swing wide. Kel felt the wood beneath her feet jerk forwards and she put out a hand to steady herself against the deck's wooden railing. They were off; the Runner's bow cutting smoothly through the clear water.
Looking backwards, the coastal town of Maeslund shrunk rapidly until it was but a speck on the horizon. Now that they were clear of the shallow waters and jagged edges of Scanra, a sailor heaved on the mainsheet, pulling the sail in close. Simultaneously the captain turned the prow southwards. The third sailor unfurled the jib and Kel felt the vessel pick up speed.
She looked behind at the churning waters left in their wake. She then looked ahead, to the unblemished horizon. Kel was finally making her way south, with every minute that passed drawing closer to Tortall.
Rinnen the captain and his two assistants took turns in sailing; that way they never had to stop and could make the most of the fair winds and good weather. In the evenings all three men would lounge on deck, telling stories and singing. For the most part Kel listened rather than contributed to these conversations, although on occasion she did recount a few stories of her own to the appreciative audience.
Kel learned that the reason for the sailors' black hair was their Yamani ancestry.
'My grandpa, along with several other men fled from the Islands with their families, during the reign of Emperor Akkuin the second,' Rinnen explained. 'Those were dangerous times and the newly appointed Emperor was arresting many supporters of his defeated opponent.'
'Wasn't he the Emperor who was assassinated two years into his imperial reign?' asked Kel, dredging up her memories of Yamani history lessons.
'Yes,' said the sailor Breu in a surprised tone of voice that reminded Kel to watch her tongue.
'But by the time Akkuin was killed our families had already settled in Maeslund,' sighed the captain.
'Some returned,' pointed out the youngest of the three men. He, unlike the others had hair very similar in colour to Kel's. Kel wouldn't have identified him as Yamani in origin if it hadn't been for the slanting eyes and slightly flatter nose that he possessed.
'Yes,' replied Rinnen gravely, 'And I fear that more people will do so before our town falls into the hands of Rathhausak.'
Kel didn't speak. She hated the way that the sailors had already accepted their fate but she couldn't blame them in the slightest. Somalkt had been a fortified town and it had barely lasted two days. Maeslund wouldn't have a chance against even a quarter of Maggur's army.
The conversation turned inevitably to Kel. 'And why are you travelling south all alone?'
That, thought Kel, would take a long time to explain. She shrugged, trying to be offhand. 'I got separated from my family a while ago. Things got in the way, I ended up fighting. Now I'm going home.'
Home. It was a word that was unfamiliar and strange to Kel. Home, where was her home exactly? For her whole life she had always been on the move, never staying in one place for too long. Kel supposed that Mindelan was meant to be her home, but she'd only spent her first four years there, a time which she could barely remember.
The Yamani Isles had never felt like home. Stuffed into the foreign customs, travelling with the Imperial court around the several different islands, Kel had never felt a connection to the places that they visited.
Then her next two years in Tortall had been spent in many different places; Mindelan, Corus, the City of the Gods, Goatstrack…Each bore many memories, some fond and others not, but she still would not call any of those places home.
Finally there came Scanra. Since meeting Alex Kel had travelled and journeyed many hundreds of miles, stopping every now and again to play a different part, like her life was one absurd play with many acts.
She sighed inwardly. Home. Whatever it was; place, person, feeling…Kel was sure that she had not yet found it.
Kel rubbed a salty cheek absentmindedly as the Runner glided smoothly up the busy waterway. Hamrkeng, being a inland city did not have a port directly attached to it, but through a series of canals the boats could travel part of the way towards the Scanran capital to Canush, a small town that was comprised almost entirely of a market. At this town the goods would be bought by traders who would then sell it on to individual shops all over Scanra.
It was at this town that Kel bid goodbye to the three men that had safely transported her from Maeslund. She felt a twinge of sadness as she walked away; they had been good men who had respected her for who she appeared to be.
'Come on boy,' she muttered to Prince, climbing into the saddle.
Horse and rider set off at a brisk pace down the road, small clouds of dust billowing around the chestnut's feet. A few minutes later the dust settled, leaving no trace that anyone had passed.
Kel travelled throughout the night, determined to get to Hamrkeng as quickly as possible. Although she was not sleeping, and therefore didn't suffer from nightmares, Kel's thoughts were plagued by Alex. Was he still alive? What was he doing? Had he been forced into slavery?
Kel had to believe that her friend was still alive; she couldn't dare to imagine it any other way. She had been separated from Alex for much longer than the five weeks it had been since she'd last seen him, but the knowledge that their separation would be years maybe even infinite, weighed heavily on Kel's mind.
The possibility of soon being able to see her parents, Neal and Lucie brought with it as many complications and worries as it did excitement. What could she possibly tell them about where she had been and what she had been doing? She knew that she couldn't just walk into her parents' townhouse and announce her presence. Awkward scenarios played across Kel's mind. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Hamrkeng was Maggur's territory and distracting thoughts could get her killed.
Kel would've been quite happy to avoid Hamrkeng altogether but there was someone that Kel felt she should at least attempt to find. It was an idea that had been growing inside her over the last week at sea.
There was a good chance that Marthea, Alex's Hamrkeng correspondent was still in the city. If that was the case then she deserved to know what had happened at Somalkt. Kel also needed to consult someone trustworthy about how to get out of the country. If the border truly was sealed off then she would not be able to cross at Fraslund. The land border was hundreds and hundreds of miles long, with plenty of places for Kel to slip through unnoticed. The real problem was crossing the Vassa. Any bridges or well known crossings would doubtless be guarded by Maggur's troops.
The last time that Kel had seen Marthea, the cook had still been employed by Vishnaucht's widow so Kel's plan was to make enquiries for the Vishnaucht household. She travelled the streets, recognising odd things; a bakery, a street corner. It was a strange experience. Normally when Kel left a place she did not return.
Kel arrived in a part of the city that was owned by the semi-wealthy. After the fire, the family would've downsized on their living accommodations.
'Excuse me,' Kel interrupted a passer-by from his musings. 'I don't suppose you know where the residency of the Vishnaucht's is?'
The man looked down his hooked nose and frowned at Kel's appearance. He shook his head in a quick jerking movement and carried on walking. Once the man was out of sight, Kel looked down. The state of her clothing was dire.
Although she'd purchased new clothes in Maeslund Kel hadn't seen the point in putting them on as they would have just ended up like her current garments; salt-encrusted, stiff and smelling of sweat.
With a world-weary sigh, Kel continued on up the street, asking discreet questions. It was only at the street corner did Kel see a courier's office. A small needle of hope pricked at Kel's frustration.
'Madame Vishnaucht? She lives at six Hammerstreet, just around the corner from here,' said the helpful clerk at the desk. Kel beamed at him and uttered her thanks.
The house at number six Hammerstreet was plain, built from a mixture of flint and painted timber. Kel stepped right up to the front door and knocked, feeling the wood reverberate beneath her knuckles.
'Alright,' came a muffled voice from inside. 'What can I–'
The familiar voice was cut short as it's owner caught sight of the girl on the doorstep.
'You'd better come in,' said Marthea faintly.
'Who is it Marthea?' called another voice that Kel recognised. Torrianna Vishnaucht came down the stairs, her fingers caressing the iron banister.
'An old friend,' said Marthea, bustling Kel into the kitchen. 'In the name of goodness you look a mess!'
Kel felt like replying thanks but managed to hold her tongue, tiredness was making her irritable.
Torrianna entered the kitchen. 'Marthea who is it?'
'Lia, she was a slave that your husband rented.'
Kel in truth couldn't remember the name she'd had when she'd worked under Marthea. She'd had so many pseudonyms that it was hard to keep track.
'You were the one that saved Samil,' Torrianna said slowly.
Kel was surprised; maybe the death of her husband had brought the haughty lady down a peg or two. She nodded.
Marthea set a mug of water down in front of the dirty girl and Kel muttered her thanks. All the while Torrianna observed her quietly. 'I see you're not a slave anymore.'
'No,' said Kel carefully, hating awkward moments such as these.
As they all waited in silence a cry could be heard from upstairs. The tired mother left wringing her skeletal hands in front of her.
'We can't talk here,' whispered Marthea urgently. 'Do you remember the lodging house where Alexei owns a room? Go there, I will be with you shortly.'
Kel had no choice but to obey. The kitchen in Torrianna Vishnaucht's house was not the proper place for the conversation that was about to occur.
The sunlight streamed in through the mullioned windows, illuminating a room that had changed very little since Kel had last seen it. When she had worked as a slave in Vishnaucht's house this place had been her retreat, somewhere to practise swordplay and get away from her miserable work.
There was still the same sooty hearth and blackened braziers, a neatly made bed, tidy desk, chest of drawers and a privy in the corner. A layer of dust however had settled over the room, rising in small clouds wherever Kel trod. She sat down on the bed, trying her hardest not to sneeze and waited for Marthea to arrive.
Footsteps could be heard coming up the staircase, their pace hurried, urgent. The door flew open and the large lady barged into the room, breathing heavily. As soon as the door clicked shut Marthea was demanding for details of Alex and his whereabouts.
'We have been hearing bad things, of battles at Somalkt,' said Marthea worriedly. 'Tell me Alexei is alright.'
Kel swallowed a lump in her throat; the news that she bore was not good.
'I don't know,' replied Kel heavily. 'We were fighting at Somalkt, Alex, Rhonda and I.' Kel inhaled, telling herself that the dampness in her eyes was from the disturbed dust. 'Rhonda was killed.'
The normally cheerful cook closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. 'And Alex?' she asked reluctantly, as though not wanting to hear the answer.
'I don't know,' Kel replied honestly. 'He sent me away, he wouldn't leave the people.'
'Stupid boy,' muttered Marthea. 'Does he not realise how important he is?'
Kel could find no answer for this, wishing wholeheartedly that Alex had left Somalkt with her. For a few minutes silence hung in the air, suspended between the two women.
'I also hear that I have you to thank for taking care of my daughter and her family.'
Kel swallowed again, another painful memory. 'I'm sorry I could not do more for her.'
'So am I,' said Marthea heavily, 'So am I.'
'It's so goddamned unfair,' said Kel in a rare display of anger. 'Good people like Rhonda and Jacqui don't deserve to die. And at Somalkt, thousands of people died, brave, wonderful people who stood up for what they believed in and were slaughtered because of it.' She looked up at the cook, her eyes haunted. 'Pray that you never see such things.'
Marthea made the sign against evil on her chest. They lapsed into silence again.
'And what are you doing now? If Alexei survived then he will probably head to Gelfunt in the north.' Sighing, the cook continued, 'The country is now split. Maggur is in control of all the central clans; Rathhausak, Miltrak, Hastanne, Gentlund, Somalkt and Sekholm. There are those to the North, Rokang, Moshaus and such like, but they are now cut off from Tinei, Dudine and Toishore in the south. They will all fall one by one, it won't be longer than two years before Maggur crowns himself.'
'I need to cross the Vassa,' said Kel. 'I have to get back to Tortall.'
'Tortall?' the older woman asked sharply. 'You can't leave us, Alexei needs you.'
'It was he who sent me away.' Kel's voice was almost breaking, 'I don't want to leave, but Alex said that there is not much more that we could do. He made me promise to go back…there are things in Tortall I have to do.'
'You're running away,' accused the woman.
'No,' Kel half shouted. 'I'm through with running away. I was running away when I came to this country, now I am returning to change things.' The statement passed from Kel's lips and for a moment Kel truly believed that what she hoped to achieve was possible. 'There will come a time when Alex needs me in Tortall, you can't overthrow Maggur without help from the Tortallans.'
'And why would they listen to you?' asked Marthea incredulously, in manner that reminded Kel of Rhonda.
'I'm going to make them listen,' said Kel quietly, her voice never wavering. 'I have my sword and I had the best teacher. When the time comes I will be there, I promise.'
Kel crafted another promise trying to convince the desperate scanran woman to believe that Kel would do everything within her power to help them defeat Maggur.
'Head east to the Smiskir road, then follow it down onto the Vassa road. Just south of that road is a den of smuggler's they'll take you across the Vassa,' Marthea gave the information abruptly, standing up. 'I'll trust you to be there.'
'I will be,' said Kel, 'with an army behind me.'
The cook made the symbol of Alex's campaign, and Kel replied in kind, raising her clenched fist to her head and her heart.
Marthea departed and with it went Kel's last connection to Scanra. She had tied up her loose ends in this country and now it was time to return to Tortall.
(-a/n- So the return to Tortall will be next chapter! I'll try to update soon, hopefully the next chapter won't be as much of a problem as this one! Also citrusfruit has been busy making me another pretty pic :D I'll upload a link soon!)
As always I'd love to know your thoughts,
Confusedknight xxx