Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

“I knew I was making the right choice,” he said with a grin. “But know this, Lord Lion. I expect more-a lot more. After Dreg figures this out, after he knows what I’m about here, he’ll put a healthy price on my head, and I’d hate not to be able to afford to return the favor.”

“If you help me find the Lady Trella and Lady Zasha,” Lord Gregory replied, “I’ll make you a lord and personally mount Dreg’s head on the gate of your keep for you.”

“I’ll help you do it,” Grommen grinned, “but even if we don’t find them ladies, you still owe me.”

“Aye,” Lord Gregory nodded that he understood.

It was with this stronger bond of gold-sealed promises that the two of them worked their way westward.

Grommen rode them up to a dock at the outskirts of the town of Oraphel. It was just after noon and the dock was only mildly busy.

“Why are we stopping?” asked Lord Gregory.

“You need yourself a hooded cloak for one. If I can spot who you really are, so can your countrymen. The ones that are still alive that is,” Grommen said. “Besides that, you’re supposed to be a wealthy Dakaneese merchant looking for wares. We can’t row up to Southport in a bucket looking like starving dogs.”

Lord Gregory laughed at his good fortune. He would pay this big intelligent oaf one way or the other. The man was no fool, and he was risking his life and reputation to help him.

As instructed, Lord Gregory waited in the boat while Grommen walked into Oraphel. No one bothered him. He kept his head down. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched one of the zard-men cleaning the bottom and sides of a fishing boat that was still in the water. The zard would scrub one side of the boat from the deck down then keep going under it, staying submerged for impossibly long lengths of time. The zard-man would appear again on the other side in a rush of bubbles and work his way up to the deck. Then he would move over a few feet and work his way back down, scrubbing briskly with his brush as he went under again. Another zard dove in to help him, and Lord Gregory saw how fast the lizard-men could swim. It was like watching a snake slithering across the river’s surface.

“Does he get to keep the thin man?” A voice from the dock above startled Lord Gregory. He looked up to see Grommen and the man who’d spoken, along with a commanding looking zard-man whose big black eyes reflected the world around him in such a distorted way that Lord Gregory had to look away from them.

“The thin man is my master,” Grommen said with a grin that only Lord Gregory could see. The other man said something in a gurgling clicking language to the lizard-man. The zard responded and the men translated for them.

“He says the little bucket is worth a silver piece at best. He’ll give you seven coppers for it.”

“Tell him eight and the deal is done.”

The translator did his job, and after brief pause, an exchange took place. Grommen threw a wadded black cloak down to the boat. After Lord Gregory had it fastened about his neck he raised its hood and extended a hand. Grommen helped him onto the dock then bowed, as his role dictated. The zard-man took the rope that held the boat and, without a look back, strode to the edge of the pier and dove into the river. The boat was pulled away from the dock by its rope and went trailing after the lizard-man’s wake.

“Fargin crooked skeeks,” the translator said to Grommen and Lord Gregory with disgust. He paled, though, when the zard who was cleaning the nearby boat hissed.

Grommen ignored the exchange. “We have a wagon carriage waiting for us, Overlord. If we hurry, we can be in a Southport inn by dark fall.”

The power of the ocean storm was relentless and violent. The Seawander rolled and swayed, and it seemed as if it had been dark for days. Thunder crackled and boomed, and lightning streaked through the sky in wicked, jagged flashes. Several times it felt like the bottom had fallen out of the world, like the entire ship was tumbling through a great void. Then the Seawander would smack into the ocean, sometimes with bone-jarring force, sometimes at some off-kilter angle. The timbers creaked in protest and the constant hum of the wind blasting through the tight rigging made a ghostly whistling chorus that could be heard over the pelting of the heavy rain.

When Phen finally woke from his alcohol-induced slumber he felt much better. He and Hyden were thrilled, in a morbidly terrified sort of way, by the power of the storm. The storm had been raging for days. It had been dark so long that Hyden couldn’t say how many. Phen, feeling seasick no longer, found a volume of text that was written on the subjects of whirlpools and tempests, among other forces of nature. He was reading excerpts of particularly scary content to Hyden in the common room. They were both sitting at the booth with Talon perched nearby watching water wash over the porthole and the occasional flicker of yellow lightning outside.

Phen had to re-read his text every now and then due to the crazy gyrations of the lantern swinging overhead. Hyden, at that moment, was more worried about the lantern dashing itself against one of the roof beams and showering them with flaming oil than he was about the storm, or Phen’s horrors. Nevertheless, he felt a chill as Phen read about an old ship passing by a giant whirlpool and nearly getting caught in its deadly grasp.

“ ‘… the Captain emptied a bottle of sweet brandy in one long gulp then corked the vessel and tossed it overboard,’ ” Phen read on. “ ‘I thought he was giving up, downing a bottle, a final toast to a good run at sea, but I was mistaken. The Captain watched the bottle’s course as it spun away from the ship in a huge radial arc. He carefully gauged its speed as it floated around and down into the bottomless siphon.’ ”

“What is ‘radial’?” Hyden interrupted. His eyes were glued to the jerking sway of the lantern as if hypnotized by its motion.

“It’s a variation of radius,” Phen answered impatiently, forcing Hyden’s attention from the light. “The bottle’s path moved in an arc around the center of the whirlpool away from the ship.” He showed Hyden on the tabletop with his fingers.

Outside, a quick strobe of lightning flashed through the water rolling down the window beside them. Before its light had even faded, low rumbling thunder growled its way into a sharp series of cracks, almost like breaking wood. Phen gave Hyden his ‘creeped out’ look of mock terror, causing Hyden to laugh, in spite of his overwhelming sense of unease.

“ ‘ The Captain,’ ” Phen continued, “ ‘watched the bottle’s course as it spun away from the ship in a huge radial arc. He carefully gauged its speed as it floated around and down into the bottomless siphon. He was calculating in his head. Then, all of a sudden Captain Spratt had it. He began barking out orders to his crew. A sail dropped into place and snapped full of wind. The oar drum began a quick and steady rhythm, yet we were still drawing closer and closer to the swirling hole in the sea. More orders were screamed, more sails unfurled, and the tattoo of the drum boomed faster and faster, keeping time with the thundering of our hearts. It seemed as if we were doomed…’ ”

The door at the top of the stairway that let down into their cabin flung open for a moment and someone stepped in. The wind slammed the door shut with a sharp bang.

“By the gods, Phen,” Brady said weakly as he sloshed in from above. “Can you not read something less frightening?” He was soaking wet and dripping on the plush carpet, but no one seemed to care. The whole room stank of dwarf anyway. Oarly still hadn’t left the privy. If you had to go, you had to get wet.