Kellanved's Reach

Cartheron felt his brows crimp almost painfully. ‘Cawn has no military,’ he muttered, bewildered.

‘Cawn is not a strategic target,’ Surly confirmed, dismissively.

‘None the less,’ Kellanved huffed.

Dancer, arms still crossed, tilted his head and enquired, ‘You’d have us pull forces away just to beat up a pack of merchants?’

The mock-ancient’s eyes slit almost closed and his wrinkled features took on a sly look. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Then what?’

The servants were dressing him now, pulling on a new brushed-cotton shirt. He thrust a finger into the air. ‘I shall loose the Hounds upon Cawn.’

Cartheron gaped openly, and only barely stopped himself from blurting aloud, What?

Dancer started from the wall, obviously quite alarmed. ‘You can’t do that,’ he said.

The mage’s tiny eyes darted right and left. ‘Actually, I’m pretty certain I can.’

‘I believe he means you don’t want to do that,’ Surly supplied. ‘It would be a slaughter. They’re all civilians. Families. Women and children.’

Kellanved flapped his hands. ‘Well, then, warn them. Yes, send a warning! They have incurred my displeasure and now must suffer the consequences, blah, blah, such and such.’

Dancer raised a sceptical brow. ‘And just how have they incurred your displeasure?’

The mage threw his hands into the air. ‘I don’t know! Make something up.’ He raised a finger. ‘Wait! I know. Shadow. Two nights hence Shadow will visit them. There, that’s it.’ He brushed his hands together. ‘After that, our main force will land there. Cawn shall be our foothold. After the Hounds there will be no fight left in them. Oh, and also, I want an official historian. Find one.’

Cartheron and Surly shared a puzzled glance. ‘An official historian?’ Cartheron repeated, just to be certain that was what he had heard. ‘Okay. We can get on to that.’

‘Very good.’ Kellanved pulled on new shoes, took a moment to admire them, then headed for the door. ‘Let’s have a look about the place, Dancer. We didn’t have the chance last time.’

The lean knifesman was good enough to offer Surly an apologetic shrug, then a servant handed him a set of new clothes, trousers and shirts, as he headed for the door. Cartheron went to Surly where she stood shaking her head, perhaps in disbelief.

‘You forget,’ he said. ‘You start thinking he’s just a harmless oldster – then he goes and does something like this.’ He, too, shook his head. ‘What are we going to do?’

Surly raised a hand for silence. ‘We can allow him his little pet project, so long as it doesn’t interfere with prior commitments. We can send a small contingent to Cawn. No one gives a damn about Cawn.’

Cartheron would have objected, but he saw that she was struggling to salvage the situation as best she could so he said nothing. He watched, instead, while her lips drew down so very far.

Chapter 18

It all started with someone shoving a sum chalked on a slate piece in front of her. Iko threw it aside to shatter on the floor. It appeared again and she blinked; she thought she’d gotten rid of the damned thing. She threw it away again and took another drink to celebrate.

Someone was now tapping her on the shoulder; she ignored the pesky irritation. The tapping became an ill-mannered resolute jabbing. She grabbed the hand and twisted and was rewarded by the snapping of bones.

She was allowed to drink in peace for some time after that.

Then some fellow appeared sitting opposite her. She blinked at him and decided to ignore him, hoping he’d just up and disappear as quickly as he’d appeared. Unfortunately, the fellow did not go away. In fact, he had the temerity to speak to her.

‘We were wondering,’ he said – or she thought he was saying, ‘when you would be good enough to cover the bill?’

She waved the impertinent fellow away and refused to look at him. That should serve him right. However, when she next sneaked a glance, he was still there.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘you appear to be a cultured woman. But I must let you know that if you do not pay you will be removed from the premises.’

She laughed, and even slapped the table. ‘That I would like to see you try.’

He looked up past her and that was his mistake. She lurched to her feet, elbow rising, to smack meatily into someone’s nose. A hand grasped her shoulder from behind and she turned under it, raising a knee into the fellow’s groin.

Both bravos were stunned, staggering backwards, but she could not press the advantage as her sudden movements now drove her stomach to come surging up into her mouth and she clasped a hand to the table, vomiting painfully.

She clutched the table as if drowning, groaning and gasping. Then, straightening, she realized she was in some sort of shipboard bar as everything tilted one way then the other. She pointed to a group at a nearby table, four of them gaping up at her, and shouted, ‘Stop all this damned moving!’

They all promptly scrambled away.