'My dear Captain Al'u'met, you are not in service to Duke Bretherfbrd,' Dellman said lightly, referring to the King's man who commanded the Honce-the-Bear naval forces.
'But I am in service to all other traders who sail the region,' Al'u'met replied, 'as are they to me and my crew. It is a brotherhood out here, my friend, one that we all need to survive against the unspeakable power of the Mirianic. But my debt to you and your brethren is no less-well do I remember the services your allies performed for my people on the docks of Palmaris, when all the rest of the world seemed against us. I will deliver you, as promised, and as soon as I may. Perhaps I will find our reme friend on my return from Vanguard.'
Brother Dellman bowed and went back to his voluntary duties on deck. Every so often, he glanced northward, shielding his eyes from the glare off the water, and once or twice he thought he saw the distant sail.
They lost sight of the ship the next morning, when a thick fog came up. The wind was light, and it took the fog a long time to dissipate. When at last it was clear again, the reme, as much oar-powered as wind-driven, had moved out of sight.
Captain Al'u'met, Brother Dellman, and all the rest of the crew tried to put it out of mind, as well.
And so the days slipped past, and the wind came up strong again, and sure enough, the square sail appeared at the edge of the horizon once more.
But the weather was worsening, and they found that night full of rain and the next morning full of fog yet again, and when it at last cleared, the next evening after that, the captain and crew were greeted not by a distant sail, but by a distant light, high above the water.
'Pireth Vanguard,' Al'u'met informed Dellman and all the others.
The next morning, the Saudi]acintha floated beside the long wharf of the northernmost Honce-the-Bear fortress. + + + + + + + + + + + Another ship put in that morning as well, but into a sheltered bay some five miles north. The powries had pushed the old reme to her limits, and now she was badly in need of some repairs to oars and to mainmast. The bedraggled powries, rowing hard for a week and a half, needed the respite, as well, and more important, to Dalump Keedump's thinking, needed some real weapons, something they could throw from a distance at the pursuing ship or any others they might find on the open Mirianic. Also, the Weathered Isles, the powries' home and goal, were a long way away, and a few supplies would surely raise the morale of Dalump's overworked and underfed crew.
Perhaps that pursuing ship would discover them here and come in for the kill. Dalump and his tough powries didn't fear humans, not even the Allheart knights, and while they had no heart for fighting them out on the open water-not in this rickety and defenseless ship, at least-they'd be more than happy to do battle on land.
But for that, too, they'd need weapons, something Duke Kalas had flatly refused to provide-not even a spear for sticking fish. So now half the weary crew went to work with renewed vigor, cutting branches and fashioning crude bows and spears and clubs, while others worked to ready the ship, and still others went out to scout the region.
Dalump didn't say it, but he and all the others were also hoping their scouts might happen upon a cluster of houses, scantily guarded, where the crew might find some fun at the expense of a few wretched humans.
The docks were quiet that morning; with the inclement weather and a few days of fine catches before it, the Vanguard fishing fleet had not ventured out in force.
The Saudi Jacintha had been guided in by a pair of soldiers, wearing the red uniforms of the famed Coastpoint Guards. The two started somewhat, seeing a Behrenese man piloting the craft, but their trepidation was tempered a bit when they noted an Abellican monk standing beside the captain, chatting easily.
As soon as the Saudi]acintha was secured to the wharf and its gangplank lowered, the captain and Brother Dellman made ready to disembark. 'Permission to go ashore? ' Al'u'met asked.
'Granted, for yerself and the brother,' one of the soldiers answered. 'Warder Presso will want to speak with ye before giving a general invitation.'
'Fair enough,' said Al'u'met, and he and Dellman moved off the ship and followed the pair up a long stairway carved out of the stone cliff, into Pireth Vanguard and to the office of Warder Constantine Presso.
'Al'u'met,' the warder said as soon as the pair entered. He rose and came around his desk, obviously familiar with the Behrenese captain. 'How long has it been, my old friend? ' 'Back in the days when you served at Pireth Tuime,' Al'u'met replied, 'long before the war.'
They shook hands warmly, and Al'u'met introduced his old friend to Brother Dellman.
'I have brought him for a meeting with Abbot Agronguerre,' Al'u'met explained. 'Many tidings from the south, some wondrous, some painful.'
'We have heard rumors, but nothing substantial,' Presso replied. 'Know that, at last, and through the tireless work of our Prince Midalis, the goblin scum have been cleansed from our land.'
Al'u'met nodded. 'We will tell our tale in full to Abbot Agronguerre,' he said. 'I believe that Warder Presso would also be welcomed at that meeting, if he was so inclined.' He looked to Brother Dellman as he spoke, deferring to the man but making it quite clear that he trusted Presso implicitly.
'If he is a friend of Al'u'met, then welcome he is,' the monk said with a respectful bow.
'To St. Belfour, then,' Warder Presso said, and he led the way out of the office, giving orders to his men to make Al'u'met's crew most welcome, and to get a detail inspecting the ship.
The trio rode comfortably in the warder's carriage through the woodlands to the small clearing and the stone structure of St. Belfour. Abbot Agronguerre was quite busy this day, but he and Brother Haney made time for them.
'The College of Abbots will convene in Calember,' Brother Dellman explained as soon as the formal introductions were ended. 'We will take you there in the Saudi]acintha, if you please.'
'Three months?' Agronguerre asked, looking mostly to Al'u'met. 'That is a long time in a fine season for a trader to be tied up, is it not? '
'I am indebted to your-to my-Church, Abbot Agronguerre,' Al'u'met explained, 'and mostly to those who bade me to bring Brother Dellman here and to deliver both of you to St.-Mere-Abelle. It is a service I, and my crew, willingly offer.'
'Most generous,' said Abbot Agronguerre. 'But perhaps the second part will prove unnecessary. If I am to go to the College, as surely I am, then I will need transport back soon after, and better if it is a Vanguard ship, that it can dock the winter through at Pireth Vanguard.'
Al'u'met looked to Dellman, but the young brother wasn't prepared to answer that logic at that time.
'We will discuss it at length,' Al'u'met said, 'but no need for haste. Let us tell you of the events in Palmaris and in the southern part of the kingdom, momentous events indeed.'
'Father Abbot Markwart is dead,' Agronguerre remarked, 'so said one trader who came through. Killed by a man named Nightbird and the woman Pony.' 'Jilseponie,' Brother Dellman corrected. 'Elbryan Wyndon, known as Nightbird, and his wife, Jilseponie, who is often called Pony.'
'And they are outlaws?' asked the abbot.
'Nightbird was killed in the battle,' Dellman explained. 'And far from an outlaw, Jilseponie is now hailed as the hero of the kingdom.'
Abbot Agronguerre wore a perplexed expression indeed!
Brother Dellman took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. He had to go back to the beginning, he realized, to bring this man through the last tumultuous year in the southern reaches of Honce-the-Bear, and the western stretch, all the way through the Timberlands and up to the Barbacan and the miracle at Mount Aida.
The three Vanguardsmen listened intently, leaning forward so far in their seats that they seemed as if they would topple onto the floor. Brother Haney repeatedly brought his right hand up before his face, making the gesture of the blessing of the evergreen, particularly when Dellman told of the events at Mount Aida, at Avelyn's grave, when the blessed arm of the martyred brother shot forth waves of energy to utterly destroy the horde of goblins that had trapped Dellman and his companions on that forlorn plateau.
And Agronguerre, too, made the sign of the evergreen when Brother Dellman told of the final battle at Chasewind Manor, of the fall of Markwart-from grace and from life.
When he ended, the three Vanguardsmen sat there silently for a long, long time. Brother Haney looked to his abbot repeatedly, deferring to Agronguerre's wisdom before he voiced his own thoughts.
'Where is this woman Jilseponie now?' the abbot asked.
'She went home-to the Timberlands and a town called Dundalis,' Al'u'met explained. 'There lies her husband.'
