A Solitary Journey (37 page)

‘At what cost?’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ the shop owner gasped.

‘I just think we ought to be a bit more—what’s the word?—more cunning in what we plan.’

‘What difference will that make? The Kerwyn don’t care
who
they kill. Remember? And even if we don’t do anything they will still randomly kill our people. Through the Movement we get some revenge and we show our people that we still can fight. If we lie down now we’re dead. You know this. Why do you keep on looking for the soft way out?’ The shop owner’s exasperation made A Ahmud Ki smile.

‘Barter will do the job properly,’ said the man with the guttural voice. ‘Then we’ll go quiet for a few days and let the Kerwyn think we’ve given up.’

‘Then we can blow up a Kerwyn ship.’

‘We can blow up a Kerwyn ship tonight.’

A Ahmud Ki heard heavy boots approaching his door so he stepped back and waited, but the door didn’t open. So he was the captive of insurgents, men willing to fight the Kerwyn even though they’d lost the war, who called themselves the Movement. The information explained why they weren’t willing to free him.

S
hipped off, most of them,’ the old woman told her. The young man named Chaser with the beautiful blue eyes sitting beside the old woman nodded. ‘They sent them all away. Marched them in from the bush and sold them for foreign gold coins.’

‘But where did they send them?’ Meg asked. ‘The slavers who buy children come mainly from one country,’ Chaser explained. ‘The Lands of the Dragon People.’

‘How far away is it?’

Chaser shrugged. ‘Sailors say the dragon ships take two or three cycles to get there. Our ships take a lot longer.’

‘Why?’

‘The dragon ships are bigger and faster than our ships. They have four masts and sleeker hulls and huge windwheels on their aft decks that generate wind for their sails even when there is no wind.’

‘Did the slavers buy all the children?’

‘All the children who were brought here,’ said the old woman.

‘They sent some north, Roo,’ Chaser reminded her. ‘I’m sure there were Kerwyn ships that took children up to Storm.’

‘When did the dragon boats first take children?’ Meg asked.

‘As soon as the war started,’ Chaser told her. ‘The Kerwyn were shipping out children the day after they took over Westport. It was like it was all prearranged. The Kerwyn marched in and the dragon boats sailed into port the following day.’

Meg pressed her hands together. ‘Can you get me onto a dragon ship?’

Chaser’s brow knitted in astonishment. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

It was Roo who answered. ‘She has children who were sold.’ The old woman looked at Meg with understanding eyes. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’

Meg met the old woman’s gaze and nodded. ‘I lost them when the Kerwyn attacked my village. A daughter and a son. They killed my eldest.’

‘That was a long time ago,’ said Roo softly.

‘It was only a year ago. A little more.’

‘They could be anywhere,’ said Chaser.

‘No. I’ve dreamed about them. They were here,’ said Meg.

‘You
dreamed
it?’ Chaser asked.

‘Hush,’ said Roo, taking hold of Chaser’s arm. ‘A mother can know things about her children that are beyond explaining.’ She gazed at Meg and asked, ‘How sure are you of your dream?’

‘My children were brought here,’ Meg said with deliberate calm. ‘I saw it as clearly as I see you now.’

A knocking interrupted. Chaser rose, went to the door, and asked, ‘Who is it?’

‘Winemaker,’ a throaty voice replied. ‘Let me in.’ Chaser slid the bolt on the door and a lanky youth with long blond hair slid through the narrow opening. He brushed loose straw from his brown jerkin and black
trousers. ‘The Kerwyn are randomly rounding up men,’ he announced as he straightened.

‘What? Looking for the Movement?’ Chaser asked.

‘No. Taking anyone. It’s got something to do with Port of Joy. I hid in old Bootmaker’s haystack. You’d better stay in.’

‘Any news for our friend?’ Chaser asked.

Winemaker took a stool and sat at the table, looked at Meg with narrow dark eyes, studying her, before he said, ‘They’re shutting all the inns and taverns tonight. No one wants to risk being arrested.’

‘And my friends?’ Meg asked, trying to steer the conversation back to what she wanted to know.

Winemaker grabbed a hunk of cheese from the table and bit into it. ‘A minstrel and a soldier, right?’ Meg nodded. ‘And a stranger with silver hair?’

‘Yes.’

Winemaker swallowed his cheese morsel. ‘Well, seems they’ve been searching for you. Your strange friend was chased by the Kerwyn. Hasn’t been seen since, but word is the soldiers are still searching for him. The minstrel and the soldier went back to the Three Emus to meet with Oak Wheatbeer. That’s where I tracked them down before the Kerwyn started arresting people. They’ve headed for the docks. Less chance of the Kerwyn interfering.’

Meg stood. ‘Take me to the docks then.’

Winemaker shook his head. ‘Too dangerous. Kerwyn would catch us.’

‘Not if we’re careful,’ Meg argued, and she headed for the door.

Chaser stepped into her path. ‘It’s not worth the risk. Your friends will be safe there, and you’re safe here. You can meet up with them when the Kerwyn ease up.’

‘I’m going to the docks,’ Meg said sternly. A black shape trotted from under the table and waited to be
lifted to her shoulder and as Meg scooped up Whisper she glared at Chaser. ‘I appreciate what you and your mother have done for me today, but I have to go. Don’t make it hard for me.’

Chaser shrugged and stepped aside. ‘I’ll help you find the way there,’ he offered.

‘No. Just give me directions. It’s dangerous in the streets for men. The Kerwyn aren’t interested in arresting women, are they?’ she asked, looking at Winemaker.

‘Doesn’t look like it,’ he confirmed. ‘Just want men.’

She faced Chaser and said, ‘There. You stay here. How do I get to the docks?’

The men in the adjoining room were still talking and it sounded like they were also eating and drinking. A Ahmud Ki’s mouth watered and he toyed with banging on the door, demanding to be fed, but he knew what their answer would be. Patience was a valuable skill, one he’d acquired over many years, and the time spent pinned to the dragon statue hadn’t dulled his memory. Since the sunlight had faded into night, he sat in the darkness, using his Aelendyell vision to watch a cockroach scuttle across the floor towards his foot. Eating insects was a forgotten delicacy of the early years in the forests so with swift hands he snatched up the cockroach and crunched it between his teeth, savouring the nutty flavour. What he needed was water to slake his thirst.

An explosion of noise in the adjoining room brought him to his feet. Men yelled, wood splintered, metal clashed against metal, objects crashed and shattered against the floor and light flickered under the gap at the base of the door. A thud against the door made him tense in anticipation of someone coming through, but when no one opened it he tried the handle only to be
disappointed. The fighting beyond the door was furious. The shop owner swore and the door swung open, and torchlight spilled across the little room. Momentarily blinded by the change in light, A Ahmud Ki stepped back as a torch was thrown against the wall and clattered to the floor, flames licking the wood. He headed for the door, but a mailed fist sent him reeling back and blood trickled from his cut lower lip. A soldier came towards him so he feigned an attack, dodged left, and pushed past the soldier with all of his strength into the shop where another Kerwyn soldier grabbed his arm. A Ahmud Ki twisted and poked the man in the eye. Breaking free, he jumped over the wreckage of a collapsed shelf, ducked under an ill-timed sweep of a sword and burst into the street.

Three Kerwyn soldiers waiting for escapees from the shop attack grabbed him and threw him against the shop wall, but instead of falling he bounced and skipped sideways to escape a soldier’s outstretched arm. Spinning out of a clumsy attempt to hold him, he bolted along the street, heading for the shadows. A boom like thunder echoed behind him and he felt a sharp sting under his right shoulderblade by his ribs. Three steps on, he turned into a dark alley and ran.

He blundered out of the alley into a narrow street and ran down a slope.
The port has to be downhill,
he reasoned as he slowed to a jog, his right side starting to throb. As he approached two people leading a horse pulling a cart, a large dog snapped at his leg making him leap aside to avoid the bite. ‘Get back!’ a man’s heavy voice growled, and the dog retreated, snarling.

‘Which way to the docks?’ A Ahmud Ki asked, gasping for breath.

The man who’d chastised the dog gestured the direction with his thumb. ‘Turn at the end of the street and follow the Sailor’s Road all the way down. It’ll join
up to Fisher’s Way and take you straight to the docks.’ A Ahmud Ki nodded and jogged on, the dog barking in his wake.

He stopped to sink into the shadows of shopfronts and houses five times as he travelled down the Sailor’s Road to avoid Kerwyn soldiers. Two parties were escorting captive men. The others seemed uninterested in the trickle of evening traffic, intent on their own fun, but he wasn’t taking risks. The wound above his ribs was painful and as he loitered for the fifth time, watching six Kerwyn soldiers who were obviously enjoying a night of drinking and wenching stumbling up the road, he studied the wound with his fingers and discovered two holes—one in the back and an exit wound at the front. Stretching to touch them aggravated the pain and he bit his lip not to cry out. Breathing heavily, feeling shock creeping through his body that reminded him of the time—so long ago now—when the assassin had garrotted him in his garden before his black tower, he knew he needed to rest and get assistance.
But where
? he wondered. He could have healed himself once. Now he was a mere mortal and mortals died cheaply.

Soldiers gone, he staggered into an intersection where the evening breeze carried the smell of the ocean to his nostrils and another memory arose—the first time he saw an ocean in the lands of the Ranu Ka Shehaala. How strange it was then to him—someone who’d grown up and lived only in the Aelendyell forests. Now, it was a familiar, comforting aroma, full of promise and hope. Two shadowy figures hurried past, heading away from the docks. Ahead, lanterns threw patches of yellowed light across the road from doorways and windows, and further beyond more lanterns glittered on thin strips of rippling water between dark shapes moored against the wharf. In the
docks he would find out where his home was and then he could plan how to get there. Back in Andrakis he could rediscover his power. He stumbled along the road, the lights becoming fuzzier as he walked, until he was enveloped by a wave of nausea that made his legs wobble and he staggered towards a gap between two buildings, feeling dizzy and cold.

Meg pulled the hood of the ragged grey cloak that she had borrowed from Roo tighter and waited patiently in the darkened stone alcove for the Kerwyn to wander by. She was certain there was little chance of being arrested, but drunken soldiers might see her as part of their night’s entertainment. As she waited, Whisper wriggled impatiently beneath the cloak and a rat-speak image formed in Meg’s mind.
Hungry.

Soon,
Meg tried to reply, finding the expression clumsy to formulate.

Now,
the rat responded and wriggled with greater determination.

Meg let the rat slide to the ground.
Careful,
she warned and watched the rat scamper across the road to vanish into the shadows. Whisper had an uncanny knack of getting what she wanted and finding her way back, but Meg still worried for her little companion’s safety. She stayed in the alcove, uncertain of what to do. The pull to find her children was greater than ever, especially now that she knew where they’d been taken when they were sold into slavery. Finding a ship that would give her passage to the Lands of the Dragon People beckoned like a promise, but there were the others—Cutter, Talemaker and A Ahmud Ki. Cutter and Talemaker were already meant to be at the docks, probably hidden away to avoid the Kerwyn. How would she find them and what would they say when she told them where she was headed? And there was
A Ahmud Ki. He had vanished, very likely arrested by the Kerwyn. She felt responsible for him, having released him from his bondage in Se’Treya, and she ought to find out where he was and rescue him again. But what if she was caught? What would happen to her children then?
I want to find my children,
she resolved.
I’ve come this far. How can I turn back now
?

A black shape scampered across the road and sat up at her feet.
Come,
the rat projected.
Hurry.
Meg looked both ways to see if anyone would notice her crossing the road before she followed Whisper towards a gap between the buildings on the other side. Whisper ran into the dark, but Meg hesitated, unable to see.
Come,
the rat urged. Easing forward, Meg’s foot brushed against a leg and she flinched. A voice whispered, ‘Help,’ in a foreign tongue.

Oak Wheatbeer watched at the door and shuffled nervously while Cutter and Talemaker helped Meg carry A Ahmud Ki into the warehouse. What started as a simple exercise to help the minstrel and his soldier friend find a shipmaster was quickly becoming something more dangerous with the Kerwyn actively hunting the wounded stranger and rumours abroad that he’d used magic to kill a soldier. He closed the door and lifted a lantern. ‘You were lucky Chaser followed you,’ he said to the woman as the men lowered A Ahmud Ki to the floor between two rows of barrels. ‘You’d never have found us any other way.’

Meg looked up at the heavy-framed taverner. ‘Where is he now?’

‘Gone to get you your information.’

‘What information is that?’ Cutter asked.

Meg looked down at A Ahmud Ki whose eyes were open, watching her. ‘To see what ships are in port.’

‘Wheatbeer is arranging for us to meet with a shipmaster,’ Cutter told her.

‘When?’ Meg asked.

‘Later,’ Wheatbeer replied, ‘when things have quietened down.’ He eyed the sleek black rat preening itself on a crate, wondering why such an animal was the woman’s companion.

‘Can I borrow a knife?’ Meg asked. Cutter produced one and handed it to her, and she carefully rolled A Ahmud Ki onto his side, Talemaker squatting to help. She carefully cut away the material around A Ahmud Ki’s ribs. ‘I need more light.’

The taverner leaned forward, holding his lantern above where she worked, fascinated. ‘Are you a surgeon?’ he asked.

‘She’s a healer,’ Talemaker told him gleefully. ‘This is—’

‘No need for storytelling,’ Cutter interrupted gruffly.

Meg glared at Talemaker and looked up at Cutter in appreciation. Then she returned her attention to A Ahmud Ki’s wounds. ‘It went straight through. This won’t take much to fix.’ She placed her hands over the wounds.

The warehouse shook with an explosion and light flashed through cracks and windows. Everyone turned towards the door. ‘What was that?’ Talemaker whispered.

‘Thunderclap,’ Cutter answered. ‘A big one.’ He went to the door and listened. ‘Stay here,’ he told the others as he cautiously opened the door and peered out. And then he stepped outside.