Authors: Terry Brooks
He glanced at the workmen behind him, then off at the harbor. “But your resources are plentiful and your purse is deep?”
Walker nodded once more.
Spanner Frew folded his beefy arms. “I have the ship for you. Just completed, a sort of prototype for an entire line. There’s nothing else like her flying the Four Lands. She’s a warship, but built for long-range travel and extended service. I was going to offer her on the open market, a special item for those fools who keep trying to kill each other above the Prekkendorran. If they liked her well enough, and I think they would, I’d build them a few dozen more and retire a rich man.” His scowl became a menacing grin. “But I would rather sell her to you, I think. Care for a look?”
He took them north all the way through the shipyards to where the beach opened on a series of rocky outcroppings and the fleet Walker had seen earlier when entering the harbor
lay at rest. There were nearly a dozen ships of various sizes, but only one that caught the Druid’s eye. He knew it was the ship Spanner Frew had been talking about even before the other spoke.
“That’s her,” the burly shipbuilder indicated with a nod and a gesture. “You picked her out right away, didn’t you?”
She was built like a catamaran, but much larger. She was low and sleek and wicked looking, her wood and stays and even her light sheaves dark in color, and her twin masts raked ever so slightly, giving her the appearance of being in motion even when she lay at rest. Her decking rested on a pair of pontoons set rather close together, their ends hooking upward into twin horns at either end, their midsections divided into what appeared to be fighting compartments that could hold men and weapons. Her railings slanted away and back from her sides, bow, and stern to allow for storage and protection from weather and attacks. The pilothouse sat amidships between the masts, raised well above the decking and enclosed by shields that gave ample protection to the helmsman. Low, flat living quarters and storage housing sat forward and aft of the masts, broad but curved in the shape of the decking and pontoons to minimize wind resistance. The living and sleeping quarters were set into the decking and extended almost to the waterline, giving an unexpected depth to the space.
Everything was smooth and curved and gleamed like polished metal, even in the faint, misted light of the cove.
“She’s beautiful,” Walker said, turning to Spanner Frew. “How does she fly?”
“Like she looks. Like a dream. I’ve had her up myself and tested her. She’ll do everything you ask of her and more. She lacks the size and weapons capability of a ship of the line, but she more than makes up for it in speed and agility. Of course,” he added, glancing now at Redden Alt Mer, “she needs a proper Captain.”
Walker nodded. “I’m looking for one. Do you have any suggestions?”
The shipbuilder broke into a long gale of laughter, practically doubling over from the effort. “Oh, that’s very good, very funny! I hope you caught the look on Big Red’s face when you said that! Why, he looked as if he’d been jerked by his short hairs! Hah, you do make me laugh, Druid!”
Walker’s solemn face was directed back toward the ship. “Well, I’m glad you’re amused, but the question is a serious one. The bargain we strike for the purchase of the ship includes the builder’s agreement to come with her.”
Spanner Frew stopped laughing at once. “What? What did you say?”
“Put yourself in my position,” Walker replied mildly, still looking out at the harbor and the ship. “I’m a stranger seeking the help of a people who are notorious for striking bargains that have more than one interpretation. Rovers don’t lie in their business dealings, but they do shade the truth and bend the rules when it benefits them. I accept this. I am a part of an order that has been known to do the same. But how do I protect myself in a situation where the advantage is all the other way?”
“You had best place a tight hold on—” the shipbuilder began, but Walker cut him short with a gesture.
“Just listen a moment. Redden Alt Mer tells me he is the best airship Captain alive. Rue Meridian agrees. You tell me you are the best shipbuilder alive and this craft you wish to sell me is the best airship ever built. I will assume all of you agree that I can do no better, so I won’t even ask. In fact, I’m inclined to agree, from what I’ve seen and heard. I believe you. But since I’m going to give you half your money in advance, how do I reassure myself that I haven’t made a mistake?”
He turned now and faced them squarely. “I do it by taking you with me. I don’t think for a moment you would sail in a
ship or with a Captain you don’t trust. If you go, it means you have faith in both and I know I haven’t been misled.”
“But I can’t go!” Spanner Frew shouted in fury.
Walker paused. “Why not?”
“Because … because I’m a builder, not a sailor!”
“Agreed. That’s mostly why I want you with me. Those repairs you spoke of earlier, the ones that would be required after an encounter with enemies or storms. I would feel better if you were supervising them.”
The shipbuilder gestured expansively at the shore behind them. “I can’t leave all these projects half completed! They need my skills here! There are others just as competent who can go in my place!”
“Leave them,” Walker said calmly. “If they are as competent as you, let them complete your work here.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until they were almost touching. Spanner Frew, his face flushed and scowling, held his ground. “I haven’t told this to many, but I will tell it to you. What we go to do is more important than anything you will ever do here. What is required of those who do go is a courage and strength of will and heart that few possess. I think you are one. Don’t disappoint me. Don’t refuse me out of hand. Give some thought to what I’m saying before you make up your mind.”
There was a momentary silence. Then Redden Alt Mer cleared his throat. “That sounds fair, Spanner.”
The shipbuilder wheeled on him. “I don’t care a whit what you think is fair or not, Big Red! This has nothing to do with you!”
“It has everything to do with him,” Rue Meridian cut in sharply. She gave him a slow, mocking smile. “What’s the matter, Black Beard? Have you grown old and timid?”
For just a moment, Walker thought the burly shipbuilder was going to explode. He stood there shaking with fury and frustration, his big hands knotted. “I wouldn’t let anyone else alive speak to me like that!” he hissed at her.
A knife appeared in her hand as if by magic. She flipped it in the air above her, caught it, and made it vanish in the blink of an eye. “You used to be a pretty fair pirate, Spanner Frew,” she prodded. “Wouldn’t you like the chance to be one again? How long since you’ve sailed the Blue Divide?”
“How long since you’ve ridden the back of the wind to a new land?” her brother added. “It would make you young again, Spanner. The Druid’s right. Come with us.”
Rue Meridian looked at Walker. “You’ll pay him, of course. The same as you’ll pay Big Red and me.”
She made it a statement of fact for him to affirm, and he did so with a nod. Spanner Frew looked from face to face in disbelief. “You’re committed to this, aren’t you?” he demanded of Walker.
The Druid nodded.
“Shades!” the shipbuilder breathed softly. Then abruptly he shrugged. “Well, let it lay for now. Let’s sit for breakfast and see how we feel when we have full stomachs. I could eat a horse, saddle and all. Hah!” he roared, pounding his mid-section. “Come along, you bunch of thieves! Trying to drag an honest man off on a voyage to nowhere! Trying to make a poor shipbuilder think he might have something to offer a clutch of madmen and madder women! Spare me, I hope you’ve not picked my purse, as well!”
He wheeled back in the direction of the settlement, shouting out epithets and protests as he went, leaving them to follow after.
They ate breakfast in a communal dining hall assembled beneath a huge tent, the cooking fires and pots all set toward the back of the enclosure where they could vent, the tables and benches toward the front. Everything had a makeshift, knockdown look to it, and when Walker asked Spanner Frew how long the settlement had been there, the shipbuilder advised him that they moved at least every other year to protect themselves. They were Rovers in the old tradition, and the
nature of their lives and business dealings involved a certain amount of risk and required at least a modicum of secrecy. They valued anonymity and mobility, even when they weren’t directly threatened by those who found them a nuisance or considered them enemies, and it made them feel more secure to shift periodically from one location to another. It wasn’t difficult, the big man explained. There were dozens of coves like this one located up and down the coast, and only the equally reclusive and discreet Wing Riders knew them as well.
As they dined, Spanner Frew explained that those who worked and lived here frequently brought their families, and that the settlement provided housing and food for all. The younger members of the family were trained in the shipbuilding crafts or pressed into service in related pursuits. All contributed to the welfare of the community, and all were sworn to secrecy concerning the settlement’s location and work. These were open secrets in the larger Rover community, but Rovers never revealed such things to outsiders unless first ascertaining that they were trustworthy. So it was that Walker would not have found Spanner Frew if Cicatrix had not first assured Redden Alt Mer of the Druid’s character.
“Otherwise, you would have been approached in March Brume and a business deal struck there,” the shipbuilder grunted around a mouthful of hash, “which, come to think of it, might have been just as well for me!”
Nevertheless, by the time breakfast was finished, Spanner Frew was talking as if he might be reconsidering his insistence on not going with Walker. He began cataloguing the supplies and equipment that would be required, advising as to where they might best be stored, mulling over the nature of the crew to be assembled, and weighing the role he might play as helmsman, a position he had mastered years earlier in his time at sea. He reassured Walker that Redden Alt Mer was the best airship Captain he knew and was the right choice for
the journey. He said little about Rue Meridian, beyond commenting now and then on her enchanting looks and sharp tongue, but it was clear he believed brother and sister a formidable team. Walker said little, letting the garrulous shipbuilder carry the conversation, marking the looks that passed between the three, and taking mental notes on the way they interacted with one another.
“One thing I want understood from the beginning,” Redden Alt Mer said at one point, addressing the Druid directly. “If we agree to accept you as expedition leader, you must agree in turn that as Captain I command aboard ship. All decisions regarding the operation of the vessel and the safety of the crew and passengers while in flight will be mine.”
Neither Rue Meridian nor Spanner Frew showed any inclination to disagree. After a moment’s consideration, Walker nodded, as well.
“In all things,” he corrected gently, “save matters of destination and rate of progress. In those, you must give way to me. Where we go and how fast we get there is my province alone.”
“Save where you endanger us, perhaps unknowingly,” the other declared with a smile, unwilling to back down completely. “Then, you must heed my advice.”
“Then,” Walker replied, “we will talk.”
They rowed out to the ship afterwards, and Spanner Frew walked them from bow to stern, explaining how she was constructed and what she could do. Walker studied closely the ship’s configuration, from fighting ports to pilothouse, noting everything, asking questions when it was necessary, growing steadily more confident of the ship’s ability to do what was needed. But already he was reassessing the amount of space he had determined would be available for use, realizing that more would be needed for weapons and supplies than he had anticipated. Consequently, he would have to scale down the number of expedition members. The crew was already pared
down to a bare minimum, even with the addition of Spanner Frew. That meant he would have to reduce his complement of fighting men. The Elves would not like that, but there was no help for it. Forty men were too many. At best, they could take thirty-five, and even that would be crowding the living space.
He discussed this at length with the Rovers, trying to find a way to make better use of the available space. Redden Alt Mer said the crew could sleep above decks in hammocks strung between masts and railings, and Spanner Frew suggested they could reduce their supplies and equipment if they were willing to chance that foraging in the course of their travels would produce what was needed in the way of replacements. It was a balancing act, an educated guessing game at determining what would suffice, but Walker was somewhat reassured by the fact that they would have the aid of Wing Riders for foraging purposes and so could afford to take chances they might otherwise never have considered.
By the close of the day, they had settled on what was needed in the way of onboard adjustments and compiled a list of supplies and equipment to be secured. A crew of Redden Alt Mer’s choosing would be found in the surrounding seaports and could be readily assembled. Ship, Captain, and crew, Spanner Frew included, could be in Arborlon within a week.
Walker was satisfied. Everything was proceeding as he had hoped. After a good night’s sleep, he would depart for March Brume.
But he was to get little rest that night.
The attack on the settlement came just before sunset. A sentry perched high on a cliff overlooking the cove blew a ram’s horn in warning, three sharp blasts that shattered the twilight calm and sent everyone scurrying. By the time the dark hulls of the airships hove into view through the gap in the cove entry, sailing out of the glare of the setting
sun, the Rover women and children and old people were already fleeing into the forests and mountains and the Rover men were preparing to defend them.
But the attacking ships outnumbered those of the Rovers by more than two to one, and they were already airborne and readied for their strike. They streamed through the harbor entrance in a dark line, flying less than a hundred feet above the water, railings and fighting ports bristling with men and weapons. Fire from casks of pitch and catapults rained down on the exposed vessels and their crews. Spears and arrows filled the air. Half of the Rover ships burned and sank before their sails could even be hoisted. Dozens of men died in the ensuing conflagrations and many more died in the small boats attempting to reach them.