with Harbourmaster Balwin and Ned Pevy. Martin knew just outside the door Bethany and Lily were fuming at being excluded, but he had decided the room was crowded enough. And, he honestly had no idea how they’d handle this revelation. He had come to that conclusion before he heard the report, based on just seeing how deeply his brother held his own fear in check, and now that he was hearing what Brendan had seen, he was glad he had made that choice.
Martin turned to Balwin. ‘Have you ever heard of creatures like this before?’
The old man barked a laugh. ‘You’re a sea coast man, young lord! Do you think such a thing could be seen of, spoken of by any man, drunk or sober, and not have the tale retold in every sailor’s hiring hall, chandlery, or ale house from here to the Sunset Islands?’ The old sailor added, ‘I’ve heard of many things, from great serpents that can swallow a ship whole to a whale the size of a mountain, ships caught in a calm devoured by wood-eatin’ fish, an island out in the endless sea with a volcano that spews gold … I’ve heard all the tales an old sailor can hear, but unless those things your brother saw were buxom beauties from the waste up with fish tales, mermaids of lore, then no, nothing remotely like it. Certainly no frog-headed fish men, whatever they were.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And nothing sleeping under the mud with no demon red eye.’
Martin said, ‘Whatever it is, we need a magician and a powerful one.’
‘Magician?’ said Brendan.
‘Those are no natural creatures uncovering that thing I’ll warrant, some Keshian spell-caster has somehow … I don’t know, wished the monster up. Or found it asleep and is waking it up …’ He looked at the mayor and Captain Bolton. ‘You certain there are no magic-users in the city?’
The mayor looked almost apologetic. ‘We have had a few mountebanks and tricksters come through, and witch-women with their charms and love potions. We encourage them to move along quickly.’
Brendan said, ‘So you’re not hospitable?’
The mayor said, ‘You must understand. We are as busy a trading port as any on the Bitter Sea. We are the gateway to Yabon, and anything heading up to there or LaMut comes though here, and likewise anything leaving the duchy comes through here. Such traffic means lots of sailors and lots of gold.’
‘Which means lots of predators,’ said Martin.
‘Well, if it’s widely known that you have no love for magic-users, perhaps they just don’t announce their craft,’ suggested Brendan.
Martin nodded. ‘Head to that inn where travellers are being housed and start sniffing around for anyone who might help.’ He turned to Bolton. ‘Get a small patrol and if you hear any rumours about witch-women or sorcerers in huts or caves in the surrounding countryside, go investigate. Check all the outlying villages if any are still occupied, and inquire there.’ He glanced away, as if through the walls he might glimpse the still-roiling water in the harbour off in the distance. ‘I need to know what it is I’m fighting. If this is some beast the Keshians plan on turning against us …’ His voice lowered and only his brother could detect his fear. ‘I need to know what’s out there.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
The inn was packed.
Brendan could barely get through the door as he entered and made his way through the press of bodies. As soon as he returned to Martin he was going to suggest they open another building, perhaps one of the nearby stores, and house some people there. This one was fit for a brawl at a moment’s notice give how crowded it was. Moreover, with nothing else to do, most of those in the commons were just drinking, and a room full of unhappy drunks was a recipe for disaster.
How to begin? thought Brendan. He couldn’t just stand up on the table and ask if there was a magician in the room. He moved slowly through the press, trying not to jostle anyone holding a drink while he scanned faces. Almost everyone he spied was obvious in their calling: teamsters from the north, traders from the Free Cities. One fellow caught his eye until he realized he was the storyteller-minstrel who had tried to convince the mayor to let him sing for his supper at the mayor’s house until Martin had him escorted down here.
Towards the back of the room were two tables, one occupied by four men and the other by an odd assortment of two elves, a short man who looked Keshian, and a striking-looking woman who was vaguely familiar to Brendan. He wondered what it was about the four men that struck him as odd. They were wearing travelling clothes of good cut and fabric, but not overly fine. None appeared to be armed, but even at his young age Brendan had learned that a wily man could secrete half a dozen blades on his person. Then two things struck him at the same moment: their hair was cut in identical fashion — rather than long over the ears as most poor workers often wore, or cropped short and rudely cut, these men had a well-barbered look that one saw on rich men and in court. The other thing that struck him was the fact that although they were sitting together, the four appeared to be studiously ignoring one another, pretending to be four strangers who found themselves at the same table. When he glanced downward, he saw they wore identical boots.
Brendan veered away from them and approached the other table. By then the two elves and their companions had taken notice of his approach, the woman staring hard at him. As he reached the table, she said, ‘Martin?’
He smiled. ‘My brother. We are often mistaken for one another.’
She returned the smile. ‘You’re Brendan, then.’
‘Yes,’ he said, his smile becoming a quizzical expression. ‘Do I know you, lady?’
‘You were very young when I last visited Crydee,’ she said. ‘I spent most of my time with your father and your eldest brother. How are they?’
Brendan’s smile faded and he said, ‘We lost father in the war, and Hal was last heard from in Roldem, where he was at university.’
‘I am Miranda,’ she said, rising.
‘Wife of Pug?’ asked Brendan. ‘Then you are exactly who we need. Please come with me.’
She glanced at the others and Nakor said, ‘You scoot along. We’ll watch …’ He shrugged and she knew he meant the four men.
Brendan said, ‘I scarcely believe my fortune in finding you.’
Heads were turning as those nearby couldn’t help but overhear the exchange. ‘Let’s talk outside, shall we?’ suggested Miranda.
Before they could reach the door, a sound split the air unlike anything heard in this city’s history. It was a bellow of rage so loud that the buildings shook and plaster dust and fell from the ceiling. It was as if an earthquake rocked the city.
A few of the drunker guests of the inn fell down. Some ducked under tables, while others pushed towards the door.
Brendan acted without hesitation, drawing his sword and slamming the basket hilt into the stomach of a man attempting to push past him towards the door. ‘Sit down!’ he shouted, as he struck a second man across the jaw. For a brief second the surge halted. He might be young and slender, but Brendan was the one with the sword and the best most of these drunks had was a belt knife.
As the men in the commons pressed toward the door, the four silent men in the rear of the inn stood and as one reached up to unfasten their hooded robes. The robes fell away. Beneath, each man was dressed alike, in a deep red tunic and black trousers ending in black ankle boots. Around each man’s neck hung an amulet and in its centre a red jewel glowed.
‘Oh, my,’ said Nakor. He felt the hair on his arms, neck, and head prickle with gooseflesh, and he was sure he could smell a very familiar magic stench. To Arkan and Calis he said, ‘Please, kill those four men. Quickly!’
Calis took a moment to consider, but Arkan acted without hesitation. Whatever else these annoying humans might be, he had been around beings of power enough times in his life to recognize that the little man and the tall woman were far more formidable and dangerous than they appeared to be. Moreover, he had been watching those four men on the other side of the room more closely than the others had and by now possessed a firm
