Adversaries Together (15 page)

Riv agreed, “The Cathedral will sentence
both. But where are we going to find a woman willing to die?”

“
This port reeks of whores,
just find one. Throw some gold at her,” Asa tossed a pouch of coin
to one of the men, “and make sure she knows she just needs to end
the paladin.”

“
No one will want to kill a
paladin.” He said reluctant.

“
Then tell her it’s not a
paladin.” Asa moved closer to his men, his tone hateful, “Go!” He
barked and the man with the pouch stumbled out. The other was about
to follow when Asa grabbed his arm, “You’ll take the girl to our
ship and be mindful, that hero will still be about.”

When the two had left, he turned to Riv,
“We’ll set sail for The Blockade once we have her, so I’ll need you
to go prep the ship. Make sure we’re ready—we’re going to be
ferrying a couple of units of marines and some supplies for the
Silvincians. They won’t care about some girl but make sure she
doesn’t see them.”

“
You think the feint with
the wounded paladin and ranger will work? Seems a lot to ask of a
whore.” Riv asked.

“
Hardly, I trust whores to
poison more readily than anyone else. The trick will be making sure
the ranger doesn’t catch on.” Asa went over to a small closet,
opened it to a shelf with a mirror and a basin.

Riv asked gingerly, “What about the one who
cut you?”

“
Well, if we see him and it
costs nothing…” he checked his stitches, then grabbed a cloth and
soaked it in the basin.

“
The men will expect you to
take revenge, you know that. Letting this slide will weaken you in
their eyes.”

Asa wiped his face looking at Riv through the
mirror, “They care more about more coin, but I take your meaning.
We can’t get bogged down in pettiness. Something like that could
derail the whole operation. I’ll take coin over face any day.”

“
Humph.”

He threw the cloth into the basin and closed
the closet, moving over to his desk he picked up a red bandana
tying it around his neck, “And if the men have problems with that
then I’ll kill them and have more coin for myself.”

Riv pointed at him, “Then make that
clear.”

Anhra Harbor,
44
^th
of Lammas

The docks were old but not in disrepair.
Workers loaded and unloaded crates of various sizes, some as large
as carriages, filled with wares from the north like Far Port and
Paraonen, south from Wick and Lappala, and even as far away as
Dyce. A handful of passengers mingled about, getting their bearings
and collecting their things. Roth stood watching, a pack on his
back and in each hand. With his hat pulled down, he surveyed the
crowds, and felt a certain anonymity that had always quite pleased
him. He needed to head back to the Siracene highlands, make camp at
the Cruor, and wait for Jena to arrive. Then, he’d be free to head
off anywhere he liked. He had no idea where he would go next; the
marshland and the task that followed had not so much interrupted
his sojourn as merely brought him to a crossroads sooner than he
anticipated.

Since last Mabon, Roth had been trekking
between the low and hinterlands trapping, occasionally tapping
syrup trees and gathering peat, trading and tinkering. In that
time, he had only spoken to a handful of folk and even then only in
the briefest language of commerce. Roth never haggled, he turned in
skins and what-have-you to merchants for whatever coin they offered
and then went back out into the wild. Although alone, he had never
been lonely. Yet he had grown bored, and the mess with Kira and
Goshen had been something interesting at the very least though he
didn’t look forward to dealing with Jena if The Cathedral stiffed
her. Now with the varied ships before him, Roth contemplated
crossing the sea and reacquainting himself with Adrenia or maybe
even down into The Aral.

A boat to Arderra and then up into the
Siracenes, he ruminated, and then… He caught sight of the wounded
crusader being carried by some of the mender aides toward the
passenger docks across the way. Roth smiled to himself thinking how
distasteful it probably would be to the puritan when he heard that
a tinker had not only saved his life but also secured his charge
and righted his mission. The Light was never one to apologize or
give thanks easily, he thought. As he watched, he couldn’t help but
look for Kira and Jena. It seemed odd that the girl wouldn’t be at
the side of the crusader as she had been from the moment Roth had
encountered them.

Looking around the piers, he caught sight of
a figure moving with an unnecessary suddenness. The fact that he
wore the same type of blackened leather that the men in the marsh
had worn roused Roth’s suspicions. He watched the man walk with
purpose away from the Bandra docks; he carried himself in thuggish
manner. Roth was about to put it out of his mind, when he let his
head roll and his sightline followed the man’s path. He was about
to meet up with two others, as Roth’s eyes focused he realized one
of the two had a tight grip on the arm of the other he was walking
with. The three were all dressed similarly but the one being
manhandled had a red bandana around his face and seemed reluctant;
he was being rather bullied about by the other two.

Now Roth’s attention was squarely on this
group, he began to walk along the dock paralleling the trio. They
were heading toward the Arderra docks. There were several frigates
waiting, nearly every one of them a trader though a few were
clearly privateers, and this was the kind of ship to which the
three were moving. As they boarded a good-sized carrack, the one
being held broke loose but before he could get anywhere, the third
slapped him across the face. As he spun around from the force of
the blow, the bandana fell away. Roth saw that it was not a man but
a woman—specifically Kira.

“
What the fuck is this?”
Roth raised an eyebrow and began to walk quickly toward the ship.
As he came closer, he saw more clearly it was Kira—a fresh bruise
was on the cheek opposite the one just struck—and she was bound.
The blow must have nearly knocked her out as her limp body was
dragged aboard. There weren’t passengers on this ship--there were
Silvincian marines. They didn’t seem to take much notice as Kira
was taken below, but when Roth stepped on the crowded deck, he got
more than a few sidelong glances. He ignored them and made his way
to the stern-castle.

Just as he got to the doorway, another
emerged from within directly into his path talking back towards
someone else, “Even so, make sure she’s…”

Both men stopped short and stared at each
other nose to nose. The man’s eyes narrowed and before Roth could
process what was going on he felt a hard, dull thwack at the base
of his skull. His vision blurred and he dropped to his knees
blacking out to the sight of the man standing over him.

Eastern Novostos Sea ,
44
^th
of Lammas

The kettuvallam didn’t sway, but in its way
you could feel the sea below, it’s near shore shallows lulling
travelers into a sense of calm. Jena knew better than to trust the
waters, she knew that skittering along its surface beholden to the
whim of wind and the grit of oar was always perilous. Still, the
lure of the seas, a promise of swift travel and fortunes to be made
by it had hypnotized nearly all nations. She had been on ships like
this before, though usually on wide rivers like the Falkstone or
the Sorrent that lead into the Lake District. They tended to be
pole or paddle run with the currents, which couldn’t be used out
here along the coast. This ship moved at a good clip with several
triangle sails out over the sides of the ship nearly obscuring the
squat oars that moved below them. If the weather held, they would
dock in Bandra within a day—they would wake to find the tips of The
Cathedral’s golden pagodas in view.

The paladin was stable but not wholly healed,
the Bandrian healers would see to it. The girl seemed odd though,
nothing what she had expected. Roth made Kira sound like your
typical alm, but this girl was more cowed and jittery. Jena assumed
it was some residual shock from whatever had taken place out on the
marshes. This just made her feel more uneasy about dealing with The
Cathedral once they arrived. Like the sea, The Cathedral gave you
the illusion of peace, the promise of tranquility but more readily,
it exacted a price that was cruel in its indifference. Presenting a
withered paladin and a distressed alm to the proctors would only
guarantee her more hassle with whatever rector might be in a
position of compensating her. She had been replaying Roth’s little
story in her mind since they left Anhra. She needed to sound both
convincing and casual, no threat, no kind of profiteer, just a free
trader looking to do right by The Cathedral.

The other passengers on the boat seemed
unconcerned with their method of travel. A handful of marines who
must’ve been officers were heading back to the Spires, there were a
couple of merchants seemingly more concerned with their cargo than
anything else, and a few freemen uninterested in anyone else. This
is what she had expected. Two days at a leisurely wind, just over a
day with a good wind like the one they had now. In addition,
several ships traveled along the route. It wasn’t unheard of to
catch a passing ship heading the opposite direction or even have
several ships in a sort of caravan over the waves. A stranger’s
armada, the lane was in heavy use these days.

Jena loathed maritime endeavors and resolved
to rid herself of the paladin as soon as possible, then find a good
horse to make the journey back west at a slow, steady pace. The
Cruor wouldn’t be going anywhere and Roth deserved to have to wait
a bit. Jena leaned on the rail near the bow thinking of where she’d
be if Roth hadn’t guilted her into this. But she caught herself
almost at once, she owed him and this was a simple way to make good
on the debt. Not that he’d see it that way; he’d probably end up
doing some other kindness by her in spite of himself. She shook her
head, you shouldn’t complain about having a friend. Still, it was
more than a bit of an annoying task. There wasn’t much of a sense
of ease with the passengers or crew, but fortunately, the captain
knew and trusted both Roth and Jena.

Roth had done well to stay the wounds of the
crusader and Jena had done a bit more to stabilize the man. In
fact, she was nursing him a bit, as they made their way. More to
give the damn alm something to do other than stand as her shadow
and stare stupidly at the paladin. Jena had the girl administer a
new poultice every few hours and get the man to drink a bit of dark
tea to keep his fever at bay. The poison in him was in check but it
seemed not to be responding too well to the treatments. The fever
persisted and when he did awaken it was nothing but delirium. In
the old days before The Blockade, the paladin wouldn’t have even
had the barbers he had seen at Anhra, which used to be an outpost
at best. The menders that had shown up, once the Silvincian
campaign dragged on longer than many thought it ever would, were
sullied priests. Malcontents, abjurers, those dumb souls The
Cathedral was looking to put out of the way because they were
embarrassing or troublemakers. Thus, no one had the necessary skill
to treat the paladin fully. Seemed though, to Jena at least, they
would have tried a bit harder to purge the toxin. A dead paladin
would be a political hassle.

Jena turned away from the rail and went into
their cabin. The paladin slept, his face as calm as the sea over
which they glided and just as wet. The woman was in the adjoining
room, Jena hadn’t seen her for hours. The light was fading fast and
by late evening, they may be close enough to catch the flicker of
Bandra’s lighthouse. Before the morning sun was high, the captain
would have guided the ship into dock as he had done hundreds of
times before to unload cargo, crew, and passengers each going about
their own separate adventures for who knows why to some unknowable
end.

Western Novostos Sea

Kira twisted left then right as the rough
rope around her wrists dug into her flesh. She sat atop some
crates, hands behind her back and her knees at her chest with her
ankles bound. She could taste her own blood in her saliva. She was
still appalled no one had taken exception to her being abused, that
none of the other passengers or crew had seemed to even flinch as
she was obviously dragged against her will on board and below deck.
She would have called out had she not feared what the two men
guarding the cabin would do to her. They seemed to have no qualms
with striking her for the slightest reason. The door to the hold
suddenly swung open, and a man’s unconscious body was thrown down
onto the floor. Kira let out a slight squeak and the guards growled
at her, “Thought you might want some company.”

When the door closed, Kira looked down at the
unmoving body and realized it was Roth. Blood glistened behind his
ear and along the side of his face, she wondered if they had
perhaps done irrevocable damage. He let out a muffled moan and
slowly rolled over onto his side.

“
Fuck,” he groaned rising
to his knees holding his head in his hands. His eyes were closed
tightly and his face was scrunched up in obvious pain. Opening his
eyes, he discovered one was caked shut with his own blood. His
clear eye tried to focus but found it difficult; the hold was dim
and it took his eyes a minute to adjust to what little light made
it in from the hall through the door’s seams. The sound of his own
blood filled his ears and as he groped around, his fingers felt
tight and fat as though they hadn't been used in ages