Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) (62 page)

The sun went down, and the boat, now tied to trees by the river’s edge, tugged only lightly at its mooring. With the dark and the smell of the river and the little gurgle of the water moving by … he slid back into Alured, the Alured before … the Alured before hunger and thirst and exhaustion and pain. Slowly, the memories his advisor did not want him to have, memories that had frayed, been torn away one time or another … those memories touched at the edges, giving him back a whole sequence. Alured almost remembered parents … but the faces would not come clear. He slept and dreamed of towers and gold and trumpets blowing and his name shouted by crowds as he rode by.

Alured-Visli Vaskronin, Duke of Immer and future king of everything, arrived at Immerdzan in the evening. He was able to stand, though the steps up from the river dock to the street exhausted
him even with the help of his physicians. He was glad to ride in a carriage the rest of the way to his palace and glad that—as the night thickened—no one seemed to recognize him. The harbormaster reported that his messenger had arrived, but
Blessing
had not sailed to Immerdzan. He felt the stones of the necklace shift across his chest. East … that would be Ka-Immer. His messenger had reached Immerdzan and undoubtedly Ka-Immer as well. If
Blessing
was there, the harbormaster would detain the ship. If it had not arrived yet, all the better. Tomorrow he would go to Ka-Immer. He would recognize Dorrin Verrakai if the harbormaster did not; he remembered the tall, narrow-faced woman who had treated him with cool and distant courtesy edged with contempt.

What did I tell you about enemies?

His advisor was back.

She scorned you; when you take the crown, destroy her
.

Ways to do that ran through his mind, vivid instructions from his advisor. He argued. The woman was old, not attractive. Why bother when she would die soon enough anyway? All he wanted was the crown and the other jewels, the power to rule everything.

That is not enough. Everyone must fear you, not just admire you. You will never be safe until they do. The strong never leave an enemy unbroken. Vengeance, always vengeance. And this will add to Phelan’s anguish when …

He shifted in his bed, and his ribs stabbed again. If his advisor kept talking, he did not hear it. One of his physicians came in then.

“My lord, you must rest if you are to travel tomorrow safely. Your leg is seeping again. You must have numbweed for the pain so you sleep soundly.”

He hated numbwine; a strong man should not need it. But now his leg throbbed, and the night was hot, the humid coastal air scarcely moving through the windows. He nodded and drank off the goblet of the stuff once it was mixed. The drug took effect; he sank into a soft, dark cloud and neither dreamed nor heard his advisor the rest of that night.

Dorrin woke in the dark, stiff and chilled from sleeping in the open, to the sound of a high whistle and bare feet running on the deck. Stars had faded; the sky gave enough light to see the masts and rigging black against the eastern sky. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into a line of sailors hauling on a rope. She took hold, pulling when the others pulled without knowing why. The rattling of blocks and the rising line of sails made it clear.

“Heyyyy … HO! Heyyyy … HO!” She pulled on “HO!” along with the others.

“Freeeeee—ALL.”

Something thumped loudly on the deck on the dock side of the ship. Another something. The ship jerked a little, and the bow came away from the dock. From ahead and below, Dorrin heard a low chant, counterpoint to the one on deck. She wanted to go look, but if she was being crew, then she should do exactly what crew did.

“Heyyyy … HO! Heyyyyy.… HO!” Other sails were rising now, ever clearer against the brightening sky. The ship did not seem to be moving even as fast as a walk until the sail made a noise, then filled, no longer hanging straight down.
FLUP
. Another sail …
FLUP
. The deck shivered under Dorrin’s feet.

“Waaaaay … ON!” someone shouted. She could see the shapes of the sailors now and feel a touch of wind on her cheek. They were pointed almost straight away from the dock.

“Come along,” said a voice she recognized as the cook from the storm. “You’ll be in the way out here.”

She let go the rope and followed him, noticing others now moving quickly about the deck in patterns—a dance she did not know. Half the sails were up, and the one the captain had told her was the steering sail jutted out at an angle to the others. Away from the dock and the city buildings, away from the rise of ground behind the city, the breeze strengthened. The ship glided on, gaining speed as it went, until they were out beyond the harbor, when a still stronger breeze filled all the sails and the ship tilted gently over the first swells.

Everything was back in Dorrin’s cabin but the box. When she went down in the hold, it came to her hands before she touched it. She did not need to open it to know the crown and jewels were still there; the crown murmured its contentment. Back in her cabin, she slid it under the bunk again. From her window, she could see the shore of Aarenis angle away to the northwest, one side of the funnel-shaped bay into which the Immer emptied, with Immerdzan at its mouth.

She ate breakfast in the main cabin with the captain, Sun poured in the windows at the stern. The cook had made stirred eggs, and a southern hot sauce was on the table, along with a dish of oilberries.

“We’re sailing west across the bay,” he said. “We’ll head south between Seafang and Whiteskull, into the Immerhoft itself, and then, barring weather, it’s easy sailing to the western ports.” He shoveled in another mouthful of eggs, followed it with oilberries, then bread and honey, and gave a satisfied sigh. “I don’t expect any trouble. We’re a known ship; I pay the bribes in whatever Immer port I dock—did that yesterday while you were up the mast—and there’s nothing in this cargo that would interest them.” He belched, then went on. “They always look at the cabins—but yours was bare as an eggshell, and your things stowed where they wouldn’t bother. They saw crew, and cargo I’d paid the toll for, and nothing more.”

“Immer was there. In Ka-Immer.”

“Yes, flat on his back in his palace, is what I heard, gossip before I came back to the ship at close of trading and pulled the plank. Took
a wound or two in a battle, is what they said, but I don’t know for sure. By the time he’s up to see or ask questions, we’ll be out of sight and any gossipers on shore will have nothing to say about a woman aboard old
Blessing
.”

Dorrin hoped he was right. What he said made sense, but years as a mercenary had taught her that careful planning did not ensure anything. An enemy might not—too often did not—do what seemed logical.

“Come up top with me,” the captain said after breakfast. “The bay’s a busy place, lots of ships.”

Dorrin followed him up the ladder. The deck up here seemed to magnify every slightest movement of the ship, but the swells were not very big. She had no trouble keeping her feet. The morning sun made sails visible even when ships were far away. Behind them, the coastline they had left seemed lower, flatter.

“Those are fishers,” the captain said, pointing to a group of three small boats, low to the water but with upturned bows. “More over there. And there’s one like
Blessing
, heading out from Immerdzan. Could be
Bountiful
.”

“What’s that one?” Dorrin asked, pointing to another long low ship with one square sail, angling well away from them.

“Galley. Men row it as well as depend on the sail. They can move faster than a ship like this. Shallow draft, too; they can go right up a river or land on a shore. That one …” He squinted at it. “Headed for one of the fishing villages along the shore or maybe Immerdzan. Ah, now. Look there … see the different color to the water?”

Dorrin saw it ahead, a broad streak of brownish green.

“That’s the Immer … pushes its water out this far and farther, too. We have to cross it, and it’ll push us south even as we’re sailing west. Help us on our way to the sea beyond Seafang.”

Ka-Immer

Alured awoke late in Immerdzan from the heavy dose of numbwine. His ribs hurt him less when he woke, but his leg throbbed under its bandages, and when his physician unwrapped it, the wound
had opened again. His foot was swollen, red, and the swelling extended up his leg.

“You must rest, my lord, with the leg elevated. I will poultice it and draw out the heat—”

“No! I must go to Ka-Immer today.”

“My lord Duke, you are fevered—”

The necklace, hidden under his nightshirt, slid across his chest, tugging at his neck. “I must go,” he said. “I
will
go.” To the servants standing by, he said, “Order the carriage at once.”

No. Fool. Forget that crown
.

He struggled to sit up, fighting the physician, his servants, everyone.

Take off the necklace. Lie down. You are sick. You should not have come. I told you. You are a fool—

“I am strong,” he said aloud. “I will go.” He felt the other’s magery pushing against his will, demanding mastery. Cold malice now, as he had seen when he was a boy and the master had been tormenting someone else … no praise, no encouragement, only contempt.

I thought you were worthy, but you are nothing … a stupid fool, just a pretty face who will not listen … you think more of that bauble than you do of me
.

“Let me alone! Get
out …
I don’t need you—!” He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the others in the room, fighting the pressure, murmuring his own name, his real name, over and over. “Alured, Alured, Alured … I am
Alured …
”

The pressure ceased. He opened his eyes to see the others staring at him, some frightened, some worried, and one … looking back at him with eyes he knew very well.

“He’s very sick,” the harbormaster said. “We must all hope he does not die. He thinks he does not need us, but … without us, he will certainly die.” That suggestion of a drawl, that insinuating tone … His advisor, he realized, had deserted him for another.

He felt both terror and relief. With all his strength he said, “I will
not
die. And I will gain what I seek.” He looked at his physician. “Something must be in the wound. Cut it open, find it, clean it—or cut it off if you must.”

Four days later, he arrived in Ka-Immer, weak from blood loss
but the wound now draining only clear fluid. It had been a fragment of metal the original physician had not found, and now, he was sure, he was healing. All the way the necklace had shifted on his chest with every change of direction, and once in Ka-Immer it pointed at the harbor. He would wait until morning, he decided, before talking to the harbormaster here; it had been a difficult journey. He accepted a dose of numbwine without protest and slid into dreamless sleep.

When he woke, the sun was well up, shining through the window, and the necklace no longer pointed to the harbor. The harbormaster, summoned, told him his messenger had never arrived … and
Blessing
had sailed that very day on the dawn breeze.