Marcus spent the morning roaming the docks, climbing the sails and generally getting underfoot where he drove the sailors nuts with his antics. To appease them, he went through his repertoire of spells. He kept them amused until the Captain ordered them back to their duties. Corwin sought out the ship’s master and both went into the master’s cabin where Roger Carron threw off his jacket and handed the Prince a goblet a fine brandy.
“How are you, Corey? Really?”
“Good, Rog. I’m free to come and go at the Palace. Random is safe and secure. Merlin’s doing okay and I’m a grandpa.”
“No! Really? When did Merle get married and have a kid?”
“He didn’t. Raven was born of Chaos and Amber. His mother was a woman from your Shade, Irish/American but something else. I suspect she had something to do with the Unicorn. She died on earth but before she did, she created a gargoyle and bonded it to the boy.”
“And?”
Corwin told him the story, carefully edited but enough to know that the boy was the Dragon and the Dragon was gone. Roger slowly sipped the hundred and fifty-year-old brandy that he was known for importing from Khafra to Amber and rolled it on his tongue.
“This would bring a small fortune in New York,” Corwin said.
“The import fees would be a mite prohibitive. Look, I had heard rumors that Captain Dieterhof and his second Owfan were paid to obtain a rare prize that was coming to Khafra via the Barony of Loest.”
“Really. Who is behind this rumor?”
“I heard it was the King,” he said bluntly. “In fact, I toyed with the idea myself, it’s worth a fortune to make a man an Emperor.”
“Would you incur the wrath of one to keep it?” Corwin’s voice was steel.
“You know me better than that, Corey. I sent the wench off with a flea in her ear.”
“A wench?”
“Tall girl. Good-looking and red-haired. One step above a common tart. She tried to bribe me with more than money.”
“It’s a good thing you turned her down, I suspect that was Jasra, Luke’s mother. If you had, she would have sucked your spirit out your…mouth.”
The Jolly’s Captain swallowed. “Succubus?”
“Worse. Witch. She turned me into a coatrack, once. How long will it be before we reach Khafra?”
“If the weather holds, two or three days. Unless – do fair winds and fine sailing lay under your belt, Corey?”
“No. Sorry, Roger, I’m at the whims of Mother Nature just like you.” Corwin shrugged and retreated to his cabin.
Marcus sat with Roelle in the small cabin set aside for passenger meals (not that the Roger was a passenger ship being used more for goods and the occasional smuggling). The two had long since invented a solitary unspoken language that only three of them knew and both were employing it now right under Murphy’s unsuspecting nose.
Roelle stood up. “I need to use the chamber pot,” she announced and the gargoyle nodded and rose to follow her. She returned in minutes and Murphy stared at Marcus it was busily working on his fingernails with a knife and looking completely innocent.
“Ready for bed?” He asked and when she nodded, Murphy escorted her back to her cabin where he took up guard duty at the door. Back in the galley, Marcus stood up and raced out to the heads where he knocked on the door and hissed Roelle’s name. She came out smiling.
“Worked, did it?”
“Yep. Your mirror image is in bed and mine is still paring my fingernails. What are we going to do?”
“You tell me. We’re stuck in the middle of the blasted sea on a ship, stuck here until we reach the shore. Don’t you have a spell or something?” Roelle asked exasperated.
“Lots of them. None powerful enough to get us where we need to go,” he returned. “I can make us invisible, shrink us, make us larger, put out a fire, and call up a school of fish –” his mouth hung open. “Hmmm. I wonder.”
He dug into his pockets and drew out the odds and ends that accumulated in his magister’s bag of tricks and pulled out a whale bone. Cupping it in his hands, he blew on it as he pulled two hairs from Roelle’s head and a feather off the deck.
“By hair and bone and feather thin,” he chanted.
“I bring the gift of sea and wind.
Come blow great beast of wave and water
Be our way to reach our friend.”
The water churned and out of it rose a huge, green scaled head dripping seaweed and water. Its eyes were emerald with a yellow glow deep within and as it reared up, it unfurled wings as large as the ship itself. It was not a Dragon but a winged giant eel and its teeth were terrifying. Before either youngster could blink, the great head had taken them into its mouth, dived over the ship and disappeared back into the water with nary a ripple.
“Roelle?” Marcus’ voice came out of the dark and he strained to keep it from quivering.
“Marcus?” She seemed calm as if she had no doubts he could handle this. He lit a Wyche globe and held it aloft. They were clearly in the creature’s mouth sitting on its tongue. They could see the sharp serrated teeth, the tube to the stomach which was closed and the great vein that throbbed with the animal’s heartbeat.
“Why hasn’t it swallowed us?” He asked as they felt the animal’s undulations.
“You called it, Marcus. It’s taking us to Khafra like you asked,” she said calmly.
“It swallowed us alive, Roelle!” He yelped.
“How else would he carry us? We can’t breathe water or do you have a spell for that, too?”
“Well, actually,” he admitted sheepishly, “I do.” They sat together, holding hands and were amazed that the air inside the creature’s mouth never soured or became stale. Eventually they slept.
***********
It was bright sunshine that woke them. Beaming directly on their faces, warming their joints and drying their clothes. Marcus woke first and shook Roelle. Both of them sat up to stare at the sandy beach and dunes that advanced into a line of tough grass. Hills started behind the dunes but they were misty and far-off. There were no sign of any habitations nor of their transportation.
“Well,” Marcus said ruefully. “At least we didn’t turn out to be lunch. Ready to go walk?”
Both of them were covered with brine, itchy and smelling of seaweed and salt. Not unpleasant but a definite tang. They climbed the dunes and headed towards the sun which seemed to be lowering towards the west. On the other side of the dunes, they could see the beach and the curve of the cove that was a gentle ‘C’ shape. Far off in the distance was a deep maroon line of bushes splotched with bright orange flowers. They were figures gathered around in an activity that Roelle finally deciphered as some kind of harvesting.
Marcus told her to hurry as he spotted the high water mark and suspicioned that they would be underwater when the tide came in. Ripples were growing closer to their feet as they climbed higher. It took them the better part of an hour to reach the pickers and they were aware of the hair long before they reached by them. Most were women and some youngsters but all were stout, dark with nimble fingers that plucked leaves with a skill that left Roelle breathless.
“It’s star anise, Marcus. Really rare, a potent painkiller that’s worth a fortune in Amber.”
The oldest woman wearing a green kerchief over her hair grinned. “You know your herbs, Missy. Be ye lost?”
“Shipwrecked. Are we far from the city?”
“Oh, poor wee babes,” she cooed. “Would you like something to eat and drink?”
“We’d be grateful. We can pay. Can someone give us a ride and directions? Where’s the nearest village?” Marcus added.
“Tilliver be just a wee walk from here across the bay. You be in Manga Island, one of the Barrier Isles that protect the Capital. You’re lucky one of the giant eels didn’t get you. They congregate near shipwrecks. Like vermin, they are.” She handed over a wineskin that hung from a thong down her back. Roelle hesitated and then took a sip, trusting in her apothecary skills to detect any unwanted additives but it was cold, sweet spring water. She handed the skin over to Marcus and he drank deeply.
“Thankee, Mistress?”
“Peggotty’s the name, lad. You are?”
“Marcus Ainsletter, and Roelle Rouen.”
“Lady Roelle, I’ll be thinking,” Peggotty said. “You’ll be wanted to send a message bird to your kin and let them know you’re alive. Come along, we’d best be getting back anyway. This whole flat will be mucky underfoot in another hour. Like quicksand.” She set off at a rapid pace and every one of the others followed. Each looked enough like the other to be extended family. She led them at a merry clip down the sands towards a line of small sculls where they climbed in and sat. Patiently waiting.
Before too long, the tide had come in and lifted the boats. Where once they had walked on damp sand, now was a good fathom of water beneath. A pair of women manned the oars and to a soothing ditty, rowed towards the distant hills. The rocking of the boat, the lulling chant and the rhythmic sound of water had both of them asleep long before the group reached the mainland.
The old woman woke them only as the boats pulled up to the broad docks. Roelle sat up from where she was leaning against Marcus and rubbed her eyes. She saw a village made of cut and dressed stones with red tiled roofs and painted walls. Color was everywhere and broad marble slabs made a clean street and sidewalks. There were little cafes with outdoor tables and chairs and inner courtyards covered by feathery trees that provided shade. The smell of licorice pervaded the sir and the sea breeze made wind chimes dance melodically.
“The village of Tilliver. If you stand and squint that way,” she pointed north, “You can see the lights of Khafra’s Capitol.”
“What is it called?” Roelle asked softly.
“Topaz.”
“Topaz-that’s a yellow stone-like Amber.”
“The new King renamed it. Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up, fed and a message sent for your kin.” She helped the girl climb onto the dock and saw to it that Marcus was awakened and followed. The town had a village square, bordered by a stone wall and pleasantly grassy with large shade trees. In the center that was a graceful fountain spewing blue tinted water.
They skirted the green to tread down a lane laid with red brick and two storied cottages that were part business and part residential. Most of the inhabitants came out to greet the party and ask questions about the pair. Peggotty joshed them about their curiosity but didn’t answer one query. At last, they reached the bottom of a dead end street that backed up to a huge rock wall, at the door of a little one story cottage painted deep blue with red shutters and doors.
Peggotty opened the door with her palm and the lights flickered on to reveal three rooms-a kitchen, parlor and bedroom. There was no upstairs except for a small platform reached by a ladder made of wooden steps and rails. Jars, urns and bottles were everywhere and Roelle recognized the scents.
“You’re an Apothecary?”
“Herb woman,” Peggotty corrected gently. “The baths are out back. All you need are out there in the rooms. Come in when you’re done and I’ll have food and drink for you.” She held aside the tapestry that covered the back door and both of them went through it.