head. ‘It’s a wonderful tale, my friend, but even this close to the city, tunnelling under the Bitter Sea is more than an army of dwarves could achieve in this short a period of time.’
‘Army of dwarves?’ said the old harbourmaster. ‘Never met a single one myself.’
Martin said, ‘I have, but that’s beside the point. If I could wish up a tunnel …’ He snapped his fingers.
Brendan said, ‘Magic tunnel?’
Martin looked concerned.
‘We really need a magician around, don’t we?’ asked Brendan.
Martin glanced at his brother then nodded. ‘Time was the Dukes of Crydee had one on staff for a reason.’ He peered out at the water. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a diver in town we can send down for a look?’
Harbourmaster Balwin said, ‘No, not many around here, and the few we had went off with the Duke’s army to the south. You’re free to try to find someone but most won’t dive that close to the city. Waters are too rough: got that tide-race to the south-west, and nothing but rocks to the south-east once you get past the beach over there. No reason to dive, ’cept salvaging. Even then not much visibility. But I may have a way for you to take a look if you’re willing to row out there.’ He paused, then smiled suddenly. ‘I’ll be right back.’ The old man turned and hurried away.
Less than ten minutes later he returned holding what looked to be a large wooden bucket. ‘This might help,’ he said, presenting it to Martin.
Martin turned it over and saw that it had a clear bottom. ‘What is this?’ he said, tapping on what looked to be clear glass but gave back a dull sound when struck.
‘Don’t rightly know. Some sort of crystal. Much tougher than glass. A salvager named Pevy used it outside the harbour, along the tide-race, when a ship went down. Very handy. Other lads would be diving off the side of their dinghies, searching, while Pevy and his boys would row around, looking down through this thing until they saw something, then the boys would dive right under it.’
Martin and Brendan exchanged glances, and the younger brother said, ‘I’ll go.’
Martin nodded. All three brothers had been raised on the coast, and by Crydee tradition had been apprenticed for a short while at every trade in the duchy, including fishing. Hal was the best sailor, Martin best at boat repair and gauging the weather, and Brendan was the best fisherman and diver.
Balwin said, ‘Get a little boat and launch off that beach down there-,’ he pointed to the south-east, towards the old fortification, ‘-and you won’t have to navigate through all those burned-out pilings and rubbish.’
Brendan said, ‘I’ll need someone to row while I look.’
Balwin said, ‘Old Pevy’s youngest son’s serving in the city muster. His brother’s do the diving, while he and his dad row. His boat is still in their shed. I’ll go fetch the lad for you. His name is Evard, but everyone calls him Ned.’
‘I’ll meet you down by the main gate,’ said Brendan. He nodded to his brother and Bethany, then impulsively kissed Lily hard on the mouth.
She nearly reeled from this unexpected display of affection and said, ‘My!’ Her cheeks flushed as she watching the young noble walk swiftly away.
Bethany’s eyes were wide and Martin tried very hard not to laugh aloud. After a moment Bethany said, ‘Well, I think he just let you know how he feels about things.’
Lily lowered her head slightly and tried to hide a grin as she quickly glanced around. ‘I wonder if George saw that?’
Bethany’s eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’
Lily said, ‘I like them both.’
Martin laughed. ‘Should we somehow survive all this, Brendan will some day be Baron of Carse.’
‘Oh?’ said Bethany, looking over her shoulder at Martin, who was standing behind her.
Glancing down at the gate, where Brendan was meeting a young, thick-necked boy in an ill-fitting tunic of the city watch, Martin said, ‘Hal will need me in Crydee more than in Carse, most likely to command the Jonril garrison. As you have no brothers, it will be up to Hal with the Prince of Krondor’s permission, to install someone in Carse
Bethany’s expression turned anxious. ‘I wish I knew how he was.’
Trying to keep the tone light, Martin pressed on. ‘So, it’s the nephew of a minor functionary in Yabon or a baron.’
Lily said, ‘Oh, they are both very sweet.’
Marin laughed. ‘Follow your heart, then, Lily my darling. Just be gentle with whoever’s heart you break.’
Lily looked concerned.
‘Assuming we all survive this coming war and my brother doesn’t manage to go out and drown himself,’ added Martin.
All eyes turned to follow Brendan and the Pevy boy.
Brendan and Ned Pevy hurried along on the soot-covered stones of the street before the wall, all that was left of the foulborough. The Keshian raiders had been effective in ensuring everything above the tideline from the wall to the end of the longest dock had been burned to cinders. What few frames and beams had been left upright after the fire had crumbled in the first thunder storm to hit the city after the raid, leaving the entire area reeking of wet charcoal.
Ned led Brendan down to the north-east corner of the stone wharf and then up a small street lined by charred houses. These were still relatively intact: as they were not directly before the city gates, the Keshian raiders had ignored them. Only the spreading fire had been a threat.
‘Pa kept our boat up here,’ said Ned, pointing to a shed behind one of the buildings. ‘Ma’ll have a fit when she sees what those Keshians did to her house.’
Trudging up the small gravel path that ran between the Pevy home and the next one, Ned glanced at the back yard. ‘Don’t know how the garden’s going to go with all this smoke and ash.’ He shrugged as if it was of no importance.
He stopped at the entrance to the shed and pulled aside the bar, opening a single wooden door. On two saw-horses rested an overturned rowing boat. Ned moved to the rear and Brendan followed. Brendan knew what to do without being told. He lowered the bucket he carried and turned around and picked up the small boat by the gunwale and when Ned said ‘up’ he lifted with his right hand and put it on his shoulder, then put his left hand on it and when Ned again said ‘up’ again he lifted, grabbed the other gunwale with his right and hoisted the boat overhead. The two oars rattled under the seats as the two young men lifted.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Ya,’ came the answer.
‘Walk,’ said Brendan leading the way.
The boat was small enough, about twelve feet long. It was a fair hike to the water’s edge, past the burned-out piers, and Brendan was thankful they didn’t have a bigger boat to carry. A small rowing boat would get around the mess in the harbour, but even something as shallow draught as a longboat or captain’s gig would need to be hauled all the way down the sandy beach a half-mile farther along. The two young men moved to the water’s edge. Brendan swung around to present the boat sideways on to the water and they and lowered the boat into the bay.
‘Done this before, have ya?’ said Ned with a grin.
‘Once or twice,’ said Brendan.
‘I’ll run and fetch that bucket, if you don’t mind,’ said Ned.
Brendan nodded. ‘I want to take a quick look around to make sure we’re not totally mad doing this.’
‘Sir,’ said Ned as he turned and scurried off back up the street to his house. Brendan found a piling that still rose above the street by two feet and stepped on it. He could see the frothing bubbles about three hundred yards from his current position. He couldn’t be sure but it looked as if the affected area was bigger and more agitated than before.
Ned returned with the viewing bucket and they got into the small boat, Brendan in the bow and the salvager’s son rowing. ‘Right to the bubbles,’ said Brendan.
Soon they were squarely in the middle of the bubbling water and Brendan put the bucket into the water, pressing it down hard to stop it flipping over, and looked down.
