Барб Хенди - The Night Voice

While he lay half asleep on the end of Wayfarer’s bunk, he had often heard Chane’s cabin door open. Then came bootfalls in the outer passage ... mimicked by a set of clawed paws.

Chane did not need to be guarded at night. That any majay-hì kept company with an undead was unsettling. That she, his daughter, did so by choice burned him with anger and pain, but he swallowed both and kept silent.

Later, upon seeing the young trio off with a caravan, there had been little more than plain acknowledgment from a daughter for a father; more than she had ever shown him, though less than he wanted.

Then ... when Chap had reboarded with Chane, it was just the two of them. They took to one cabin so as not to waste what coin was left. They had little to say to each other and even more limited methods with which to say it. Along the journey north, it had been necessary to change ships twice.

Chane had proven himself frugal, retaining enough coin for their return journey. Before leaving the others, everyone had shared and separated their differing coins. The total proved worrisome until Ghassan contributed a surprising amount, which he claimed comprised the secretly amassed reserves of his sect. Magiere could be prideful over anything she considered “charity,” but even she said nothing when all was thrown in and divided.

Along the journey, Chap had watched Chane carefully, ready to take him down if he showed any inclination to feed upon the ship’s crew. This never happened, though, which left Chap wondering about how often a vampire needed to feed. Perhaps they could survive for longer periods than he would have thought. He had no intention of asking. Wynn had once assured Magiere that Chane fed only on livestock. Neither Chap nor Magiere believed this, and there was no livestock aboard the ships they occupied.

Now he stood on deck as White Hut came into view.

The sun dipped below the horizon as the vessel anchored offshore from the trading station, as there were no docks. Shortly after, the aftcastle door opened.

Chane emerged in a heavy cloak. Sometimes it bothered Chap that he no longer felt any instinctual impulse to snarl in the undead’s presence. Because of Chane’s brass ring, it was also unnerving not to sense when Chane came near unless Chap saw, smelled, or heard him approach.

“We have arrived?” Chane asked as he approached the captain.

Captain Nellort was a bulky, grisly man who wore a variety of patchwork furs. Strangely enough, he smelled worse when he was not bundled up.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “It’s White Hut.”

“Will you be sailing onward?”

“No, this is our last landfall,” Nellort answered. “We never go farther north than here.”

Chane hesitated, and Chap grew anxious. They needed as quick a return as possible once the two orbs were recovered.

“Why not?” Chane asked.

The captain pointed ahead. “Winter’s coming. The sea will start to freeze for leagues out from shore. Only Northlander longboats travel where nothing but the ice shifts and flows ... and can crush anything that can’t be dragged over the top of it.”

Chap let out a hissing breath, though no one noticed. If only they had headed north at least half a moon earlier. Now they would have to find yet another ship ... or rather wait for one to head up north this far.

Chane nodded to the captain. “I need to hire a guide, sled, and dog team.”

Chap turned a quick glare on Chane. Had the vampire bothered to ask him, he could have provided this information.

“Well, White Hut’s the last stop up here,” Nellort said. “You might find a guide and team still willing to head out. You’d do best to look for a Northlander. Most speak passable Numanese, though you’d be wise to keep two eyes on any you hire.”

Chane merely nodded.

Then he commandeered a few men to assist him and went below while Chap remained on deck. Sailors were already stacking crates along the deck to off-load before the trading post’s skiffs arrived, and none looked his way. They had already grown accustomed to him not bothering anyone. By the time Chane returned with the two men, he had both his packs and hauled one empty chest. The sailors brought the other two, and Chap spotted the longboat skiffs coming closer. The captain put Chane and Chap on the smallest to be put ashore before the cargo was loaded.

With two square sails furled to single cross poles on stout masts, the long boat felt narrow and wobbly compared to a Numan ship. It was still easily half the length of the vessel they had left. When the prow nudged to a halt on shore, Chap leaped out, clearing any water. Chane followed and then helped to off-load the chests.

And there the two of them stood as the longboats went back out for cargo.

Chap looked up at Chane with a quick rumble, as if to ask, “Now what?”

Dropping to one knee, Chane dug through a pack and withdrew the rolled goat hide covered in letters and words Wynn had inked on it. Chane rolled out the hide.

“How did you, Magiere, and Leesil hire a guide?” he asked.

This method of speaking was slow, but it worked. Chap pawed out the answer.

Main big hut. Ask.

Chane looked toward White Hut. Even from a distance, both of them could see a plank over the door with unrecognizable characters. Black smoke rose from the haphazard chimney made from large bits of now-blackened bark. The rest of it was a dome of sod, as if it had been dug into or made into a large hillock.

“There?” Chane asked.

Chap huffed once for “yes” and began pawing at more words and letters. Chane again followed along.

“How will I carry the chests?” he asked, and then peered along the shoreline. “Wait here.”

Torches and two lanterns were enough for both of them to spot two boys skipping stones out into the ocean. Chane approached them and held out a coin, likely a Numan one. He pointed back to the chests near Chap, mimed the act of picking something up, and pointed to the large sod dome with the bark chimney.

The boys exchanged a few words, the taller one smiled and reached for the coin, and Chane raised it out of reach. He twisted aside and extended his other arm toward the chests. The slightly shorter boy rolled his eyes and led the way.

Neither balked at the sight of Chap, as they likely saw him as only a big sled dog. Most of those were descended in part from wolves. The boys each hefted a small empty chest, and Chane slung both packs over a shoulder as he grabbed up the third one by an end handle.

All four made their way toward the main hut.

Once inside the sod dome, the boys were paid, and they hurried back out.

Though it was not cold inside, Chap shivered. Memories of everything that had happened the last time in the wastes rose up. On his previous visit, this place had been the beginning of a long nightmare.

Oil lamps upon rough tables made a glimmering haze in the smoky room. Stools and a few benches surrounded these on the packed dirt floor between the long, faded plank counter atop barrels and the crude, clay fireplace in the back wall.

The whole place was crowded.

Perhaps thirty people, mostly men, all dressed in furs or thick hides, sat, stood, or shuffled about. More than a few sucked on pipes or sipped from steaming clay and wooden bowls or cups. Most wore their hair long, and it shimmered as if greased. All had darkly tanned skin for humans.

The sight of every one of them made Chap cringe, for one that he saw only in memory was not present. Would he find ... see that one—that body—when he went for the orbs?

Chap quickly pushed this aside, not wishing to think of that name, let alone a face.

No one looked much at him though many glanced sidelong at Chane, who looked out of place with his near-white skin and red-brown hair. A few glanced toward the place’s entrance as if the boys were still there. Perhaps Chane’s transaction in coin rather than trade with those two had drawn attention.