Dreamlands (17 page)

“Pity
he came back,” Erik said.  “I had hoped we’d be shed of him before he ate up
Haroun’s advance.”

“Permission
to come aboard, Captain,” Trout said when he reached the ramp.  He was obviously
distressed, but I was glad to see he wasn’t cringing.  A coward wouldn’t last
long aboard ship.

“You’re
late,” I said, waving him onto the deck.  “Where did you spend the night?”

“With
a girl, Captain.”

“You
found a girl?” Jome exclaimed.  “Tell me, was it quite dark where you met this
girl, and was a farmer involved in the transaction?”

Ajer
grabbed Trout by the chin and turned his head to one side.  Livid bite marks scored
the boy’s neck from ear to shoulder, prompting uproarious laughter from
everyone present, except the quartermaster.  I was already thinking on the next
leg of our voyage when I dismissed Trout.  If discipline was required, Ajer
Akiti was more than up to the task.

* * *

I
knew little of Jundara, the farthest port south of Zij, and what I learned would
bring me no joy.  The low terrain meant our approach was easily observable an
hour or more out, and by the time the Peregrine was tied off men lined the
landings on either side.  The welcoming party was armed and all of them to some
degree showed the effects of wilt.  The wharves behind them were thick with
black galleys.

I ordered
the gangplank lowered, and a small party boarded without invitation.  The first,
a lean fellow with a clumsily wrapped turban and yellow eyes, was obviously the
leader.  Another of his kind followed, as well as two henchmen, scarred
fighters wound tight by their drug, naked swords on their hips.

“Captain
Sloan, we will inspect your stores,” the first one hissed.  “I do not expect
you will interfere.”

“You’re
not in charge here,” I said.  “Where’s the harbourmaster?”

“The
harbourmaster is ill,” he replied with a soft smile.  “There is some question
whether he will recover.  A pity, he is a good man.”

I
did not know what law, if any, prevailed in Jundara, but we could never defend
the Peregrine against so many.  I allowed them to search the hold.  The inspection
was quick at least, and they could hardly have stolen anything under Ajer’s
watchful eye.

“Everything
to your satisfaction?” I asked as they swaggered past.

“Yes,
Captain Sloan.  We investigate merely as a matter of protocol.  The record will
state that you carry no contraband, and I congratulate you on keeping such a fit
ship.”

They
disturbed nothing,
Ajer said.

"It
was for the crew," Erik said under his breath, "to hurt morale."

When
the crowd of thugs had cleared the dock I allowed our people to go ashore,
hoping it would lighten the disagreeable mood hanging over us.  As a precaution
Ajer had several others accompany him to Jundara’s trade quarter, while Erik
and I made a survey of the black galleys.  

“Do
your teeth ache with their noise too?” Erik asked as we studied their ships one
by one.  The yellow-eyed merchants were more numerous than I had ever seen, and
the sibilant buzz that accompanied them was intensified beyond tolerance.

“Do
not think on it and do not speak of it,” I replied.  “Just keep looking.”

The
painful vibration subsided as we retreated from the wharf a half-hour later.  Our
quarry was not among the currently docked vessels.

“We’ll
catch them up yet,” Erik said.  “I don’t know what their game is, but they’ve
about run out of places to go.”

“What
if she has been moved to another ship?” I said, unable to hide my
discouragement.

“We’ll
find the ship we’re after, and if Isobel isn’t on board we’ll burn it to the
water.  There’s nothing else for it.”

I
put a finger to my lips as we neared the Peregrine.  Trout was headed towards
us, half-dragging some wastrel along with him.  He wore clothes in need of
mending and a sour expression.

“Captain,”
Trout said, “I spoke with a man I know here in Jundara, my cousin’s business
partner, Mazin.”

I
made a noncommittal sound.

“No,
not this one,” Trout said with a laugh.  “This isn’t Mazin, but a contact of his. 
He wants to help.  Tell them,” he said to his companion, who stared at us like
a startled bird but did not immediately reply.

“I
don’t like his look,” Erik said.

“Where
did you get him?” I asked.  Trout still clutched the man’s skinny wrist, as if fearing
he would flee.

“He
used to be an oarsman on the galley you’re looking for, says he knows where it’s
headed.”

It
was on my lips to ask how Trout could identify the ship, but I had carved its
name into a panel on the Peregrine’s afterdeck in case any man wished to learn it. 
It was a slim hope.

“That
is interesting,” Erik said to Trout’s new friend.  “Not many men leave the galleys'
employ.  Or did they dismiss you?”

“I
wasn’t dismissed,” he said, looking at the ground.  “Couldn’t stand the smell
is all.”

“If
you don’t like stink,” Jome said as he and Ajer walked up, “then galleys isn’t
for you.”

“Get
the map case,” I said to Trout.  “He can show us what he knows.  And fetch Huspeth
as well.”

When
Erik had sorted out the correct chart, the raggedy fellow hesitantly placed a
finger on the bottom of the diagram, the extreme south.

“That’s
what you have to tell me?” I said.  Just as in Solomon’s atlas, that area was
blank.

“This
place cannot
be
charted,” he whined.

“He
is regrettably correct,” the soothsayer said as she joined us.  “South of
Jundara, your instincts must guide you.

“How
is that useful to me?” I asked her.

“If
there is something you are meant to find,” she said, “trust you will find it.”

“I
cannot navigate on trust,” Erik said pointedly.

Ajer
gestured that we had nothing else to go on.  Jome, for once, said nothing.

I
paid the informant slightly more than what I believed his information to be
worth, and when both he and Trout were gone, said, “Our target has followed the
coast south thus far.  We’ll continue on that heading.  Let's finish our
business and put this place behind us.”

To
see Jundara receding in the distance was like an anvil sliding from my
shoulders.  We had found no profit in trading, and on the point of sailing Ajer
had discovered our grain to be full of weevils.  We were delayed several hours
replenishing our stores, and paid a steep price to do so.

That
night, I listened below decks awhile to the men excitedly discussing the
publication of a new codex of laws out of Ooth-Nargai.  It was comforting to know
the world would continue to turn, whether or not my own small problems were
resolved.

Afterwards,
I decided on a whim to spell the lookout at the top of the mainmast, where I
surveyed a southern horizon made blank by overcast.  In the middle of my shift,
in a flicker of lightning so distant it came without thunder, I caught a
glimpse of a long, narrow-beamed galley.

Jundara
was the last settlement of civilized men, or had been, before the arrival of
the merchants from Dylath-Leen, and the coast was wilderness thereafter,
unbroken by house or light.

Five
days from Jundara, Huspeth, Ajer, and I watched from the Peregrine as she
passed the site of a ruined city.

“Doomed
Sarnath,” Huspeth said ominously.

The
ruins of Sarnath marked
both the border of the ancient kingdom of
Mnar and the edge of the map on the southern side.  The city’s curse was known
throughout the Dreamlands, and those sailors who could not be spared to go
below deck averted their eyes while it lay in sight.  Only the three of us
would look on the broken teeth of her silhouette.

The
soothsayer continued in a soft voice.

“
Wise
men who know how to read the old calendar hold that on a certain day of the
year, at twilight, one may enter Sarnath of old and see for oneself the heights
of her glory.  They do not promise as straightforward an exit.”

Past
that forbidding landmark we sailed into the uncharted southern area called the Fantastic
Realms.  The topography of that zone was weird and changeable.  One might be
passing a stretch of dense jungle and, after looking briefly away, see it
replaced by lofty cedars, or red hills, or desert, a circumstance that left
everyone jumpy and irritable.  My sighting of the galley outside Jundara had
been the last, and I wondered how far we should chase an unseen ship, but Huspeth
assured me they were equally bound to the coast, since it was the sole reliable
reference.  The sea and wind, thankfully, were unchanged.

Ten
days past Sarnath, Erik and I were discussing the difficulties of the voyage on
the foredeck.  He closed the lid of the sextant's case with an air of finality.

“This
is useless,” he said.  “Even the stars are confused here.  If you know what
brings our enemies down this coast, you must tell me.  It won’t go any farther,
I promise.”

“I
cannot tell you for I do not know.”  I studied the land as it unfurled before
us, hoping to glean sense from madness.

“Our
fresh water is running low, Captain.  I don’t like it any more than you, but we
have to put ashore soon.”

We
had not dared land since passing the doomed city, and our mission was fast
coming to resemble a forced march.  The close geography of the Southern Sea
never demanded extended tours aboard ship, nor did the scenery give one
nightmares.

“Huspeth
advises against it,” I said, “except in extreme necessity.”

“You
stake much on the word of that witch-woman,” he grumbled, “and it’s hurting
morale.  Giving her the captain’s cabin diminished your standing with the men,
and bunking with them yourself deprives them of the chance to complain about
it.”

I
could not argue against him, but neither could I offer any solution.

* * *

Two
more days uneventfully passed.  On the third, the sun burned bloodily on the
horizon as it set, trailing clouds like strips of dirty gauze.  The sun, at
least, never varied in its path.  Not yet.

Our
watch called out that a bright light was visible ahead, among the rocks.  We had
seen lights before.  Some were strangely coloured, some moved of their own
accord, and none were inviting.  This one shone yellow and steady and was framed
by a natural stone arch, giving the impression of a distant lantern.

“Put
us ashore, Erik,” I said, resignedly.  As he had said, there was no question we
must stop.  I went below to speak to Huspeth.

“We
spotted a light and we’re going to land,” I said.  “Will you come?”

She
shook her head no.

“Are
you so sick you won’t stretch your legs?”

She
replied severely, “I am not sick,” and after a moment pronounced, “Forage if
you will, but take neither food or drink from the hand of anyone you meet on
these shores."

With
the ship sheltered in a natural cove, I accompanied the first boat over,
carrying eight men and minimal gear.  The oarsmen worked reluctantly, as if
hoping the outgoing tide might reverse our course.  The tense quiet was broken,
on this occasion gladly, by Jome, who made a hobby of haranguing tow-headed
Marthin.

“Must
you bring that bloody apparatus with you every time we make shore?” Jome was
saying.

Marthin
had bartered for a windlass crossbow in Nagoordi and toted it around with him
everywhere.  It was a cumbrous, crank-driven model, and not in particularly
good condition.  If there was a less practical weapon for a sailor, it did not
come to mind.

“You
know you can’t keep it cocked all day,” Jome continued, when his first sally went
unanswered, “ruins the string.”

“If
I don’t keep it cocked, how am I going to shoot when I need to?”

“Might
make a better club,” Jome said, making as if to wrestle it from Marthin’s
grasp.  “You can break off the bow just here.”

And
so on.

The
low hills were bare and uninviting, with little in the way of mature trees, or
even scrub.  There was, however, an abundance of asphodel.  I decided to take
the presence of this flower as a good omen, since there was no other to hand.  After
we beached our boat, I instructed the men to eat nothing they found while
ashore.  The landscape promised little in any case.

“I
reckon the light was up there a ways, Captain,” Marthin said, pointing at a gap
in the hills, “not far.”

We
followed the scattered pieces of a derelict road to a compound of stone
buildings.  Some were no more than walls, a few others mostly intact.  The
scene was lit by a handful of rush lights.

“The
beacon is gone now,” Orvuhlt said, stopping at the edge of the path like a dog
at the end of its rope.  “It must have been a lure, placed there by the ghosts
that haunt these shores.”

“Someone
gathered these rushes, and lit them,” Erik said, “and cleared the plaza of
weeds and deadfall.”

This
observation was answered by an ominous grating noise from a squat, windowless
building still decorated with two tattered banners which the elements had bleached
of their arms.  Before we could do more than startle and clutch the grips of
our swords, the double doors of the entrance slid smoothly open and a line of
young women emerged and walked across the square to where we waited, perplexed. 
They were wan and hungry looking, ranging in age from perhaps nine to eighteen,
and their simple clothes had been many times mended.  The tallest girl
addressed me in a clear voice that suggested elocution lessons.

"Have
you come for the feast?" she asked.

Rather
than engage in her riddle, I replied as if she had not spoken.

"I
am captain of the sailing ship Peregrine, out of Zij.  Our fresh water has run
dry and we’ve been forced to land for more.  Go fetch your master or governess."

"I
am the eldest, sir.  My name is Lyss.  My sisters and I are quite alone."  Seeing
I was incredulous, she added, "Our families have boarded us here for the
benefit of the sea air, and the tranquility that aids perfect meditation."

"Yes,
of course," I replied, as if it were perfectly natural to seclude a group of
girls on a barren coastline, in the wreckage of an ancient fort.

“Captain,
pardon me,” Orvuhlt said, pulling me away from Lyss as if I were dangerously
exposed, “but you mustn’t truck with these apparitions.  They hide some danger,
I am sure of it.”

“They
are young girls,” I said.  When our rum had run dry on the Peregrine, Orvuhlt
had been down with the shakes for two days.  His head, apparently, still wasn’t
clear.

“Are
they that,” he said earnestly, “or are they phantoms?”

“Phantoms
or no, we’ll take water where we can find it,” Erik interjected, forcibly
separating the seaman from my arm. 

"You
don’t object to us drawing from your well, miss?" I asked.

“Of
course not, Captain.  Come with me.”  She walked us the short distance to their
well.  “Please make use of whatever we can provide.”

A
ring of stones marked the location.  The frame had rotted away to two smooth
stumps, but the rusty chain and bucket would serve our needs.

“Do
you wish to ask if their well is haunted?” Erik said.  Orvuhlt gave him a sour
look.

"It's
good, Captain,” Marthin pronounced a minute later, “good and sweet."

“Ajer,
take Marthin back with the boat to fetch our tuns, and more men.  Replenish our
water as swiftly as possible.  And give them the same warning about the food.  Erik,
get the others something to do.”

Ajer
and Erik left to their tasks.

“Captain,”
Lyss said with a dreamy smile, as if I was a child she was indulging, “your men
will want to rest when they are finished.  Come."

Lyss
led me into one of the smaller houses.  Through the partly collapsed floor, a
flight of stairs descended into a dark, debris cluttered room.  I shook my head
slightly, wondering did she see something else entirely, or was she merely mad.

"We
prefer to make our beds beneath the stars, miss.”

“Then
come see the hall where we will have our celebration,” she said, leading me
outside and to another place.  “We are quite proud of it.”

Though
it lacked a roof, the building in question was in fact a long, narrow dining
hall, with for table and benches three prodigious oblongs of stone.  I doubt
ten men together could have shifted one of them.  A series of statues stood in
alcoves along the left and right walls, positioned so close to the benches
there was barely enough room to sidle along behind them.  The sculptures seemed
to represent disproportionately tall men but, like everything else in the
ancient hall, rain had worn them to soft shadows of their original forms.  They
were carved from a different stone than the furniture, porous and almost white,
and seemed to be bending slightly at the waist, as if to directly observe the
diners at their meals.

Ignoring
the girl’s prattle about tapestries and chandeliers, I headed back outside. 
Though I knew Ajer would finish with the water as fast as the job could be
done, I went to the well, Lyss trailing behind.

"What
was this about a feast?" Trout asked, jogging up from the beach with
Marthin,
the two of them grinning like mischievous brothers.  I shot them a look which
I’m sure every commander keeps in his hip pocket.

“Yes,”
Lyss said, visibly brightening, “your arrival was well timed.  There is to be a
feast tomorrow and you are to be our guests.”

"We
have our own provisions," I said curtly.  The crew's expressions said they
remembered my warning about the food, but when two sallow girls appeared with sacks
of root vegetables and hardtack like so many grey stones, their dirty looks
faded to dispirited frowns.

I
alternated fretfully between supervising those working the well and the second
crew Erik had set to falling and bucking up a tree.  Sailors were unpredictable
at the best of times, but frightened, bored and surrounded by young girls–  Despite
my worrying, all was quiet enough until Erik jogged over to speak to me.

“Orvuhlt,”
he said.

Leaving
him and Ajer to their duties, I found Orvuhlt speaking with Lyss in the
entrance of the dining hall.  She was about to hand him a wooden cup.  I brushed
roughly past him, knocking the cup to the cracked flags at our feet.

"Sorry,
my dear,” I said, as she bent to retrieve it from a puddle of red wine.

“It’s
no bother, Captain.  They’re quite sturdy.”

“Orvuhlt,
you’re needed on the wood chopping detail.”  Dragging his feet like a sulking
child, the sailor left to join Erik.

“Would
you like wine, Captain?”

“Perhaps
at dinner tomorrow.  There is much to do and the men are exhausted."  We
would be far away before their gathering, whatever they planned.

I
returned to the well to find Ajer, arms crossed, staring at our kegs as if they
had personally failed him.

“Not
safe to shift these full tuns now,” Jome said.  "Too dark."

“What
do you say?” I asked Ajer and Erik.

May
as well spend the night,
Ajer signed.

“Let
the men sleep ashore,” Erik agreed.  “The girls are mad, but they’re not any
threat, and the land is refreshingly stable.”

Once
our tools were gathered and cleaned we made camp in the dusty grass.  Our fire
dispelled the dark, but not the apprehensive mood that had taken everyone, and
speculation about the little colony went round and round.

“I
saw candles made of beeswax.  Where are they from?”

“The
road beyond the fort is impassable, hasn’t been used in decades.”

“From
whence are they supplied, by sea?”

“There
is no jetty, but we beached all right.”

“Phantoms,”
Orvuhlt pronounced, gloomily meditating on the spilled wine.