Antiagon Fire

29

While the weather cooled over the next few days, and the wind shifted until it blew largely out of the northeast, the Telaryn convoy saw few other ships, and no warships or raiders. Late on Vendrei morning, Vaelora and Quaeryt stood on the upper sterncastle deck, close by the starboard railing, where they could see in the distance to the north the rolling hills southeast of Kherseilles. The Gulf waters were rougher than they had been, and Vaelora kept one hand on the railing as they talked.

“There aren’t many towns or ports along the coast here, are there?” asked Vaelora.

“There are more than a few fishing villages, but that’s about it. The southern hills here are rugged. They don’t get much rain, and there aren’t many streams. From what I’ve heard, the lands to the north and west of Ephra don’t grow much of anything.”

“Didn’t Kharst do something … you told me about the Pharsi…”

“Oh … according to Major Arion, years ago he drove the Pharsi traders out of Laaryn and marched them to the barrens north of Mantes. Most of them just kept going and crossed the Groral and settled in Khel. That was part of what started the first war against the Pharsi…”

“You told me. That was the one they won, and then Kharst sent all sorts of blankets and goods used by people who’d died of the Red Death.” Vaelora shook her head. “Compared to what he did to others, he had an easy death.”

Easy? Freezing to death?

“Dearest, you suffer more over what you did than Kharst ever felt from what you did to him. And that was the most he likely ever suffered.”

From the corner of his eye, Quaeryt caught sight of Nykaal crossing the deck toward them. “Here comes the captain.”

Vaelora turned and the two of them waited.

“It’s been a pleasant voyage the last few days,” offered Nykaal, with an easy smile. “Well … except for that squall the other afternoon, but it didn’t last long. Didn’t even break any sheets or rip any sails.”

“How much longer to port?” asked Quaeryt.

“If the wind holds, a glass before sunset.”

“I’ve not been in Kherseilles in more than ten years,” began Quaeryt. “The port had ample piers then, but…”

“There are still ample piers. Not much else, I’d wager.” Nykaal offered a crooked smile. “I doubt that we’ll need to anchor offshore.”

“Oh?”

“Kharst seized or burned all the local trading vessels. And the Bovarians … or Aliaro…”

“Likely more berths than even we’ll need, then?”

“That’s the word.” With a nod, the captain headed back toward the helm.

After Nykaal returned to his position near the helmsman, Vaelora stepped closer to Quaeryt and said in a low voice, “I don’t like it when you talk as if I’m not here. A few words of explanation wouldn’t have cost you much.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I didn’t mean…” Once again, Quaeryt was reminded that while Vaelora was a very bright woman, her upbringing had left large gaps in her knowledge. The problem is that you don’t know where they are, and if you overexplain everything you come off as patronizing and make her look stupid. “Because Kherseilles was a Khellan port, it’s on the west side of the Groral River. It used to be as big a port as Eshtora and Ouestan, and all the trade in eastern Khel came down the river to Kherseilles. They even built some ships here from the timber that they floated down on the spring runoff. But when Kharst conquered Khel…” Quaeryt shrugged.

“All the traders were Pharsi, and they were killed and their ships burned or taken?”

Quaeryt nodded.

“And there weren’t many people left to trade?”

“Between those who were killed and those who fled, I’d doubt it. That’s another reason why I’ve been worrying about whether we can gather enough mounts for both first company and Eleventh Regiment.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t very well refuse to come on the grounds that your brother couldn’t have made sufficient arrangements for mounts.”

“He wouldn’t have taken that well.” She paused. “There isn’t a Bovarian town on the east side of the river? One where…?”

“There was. It was never a port. Suppose it’s still there, but there’s not much growing in the coastal hills between Kherseilles and Ephra.”

“You just said that. I don’t need repetition. Once is enough.”

“Would you like some biscuits?”

“I can find them myself.” Vaelora left Quaeryt standing there.

He knew better than to follow her immediately. He should have realized that she needed to eat. She gets cross when she’s hungry, far more than she used to. He smiled wryly. Another aspect of her being with child that he hadn’t known about until it happened.

Over the next three glasses, Quaeryt spent a great deal of time being pleasant and thoughtful, and making sure Vaelora had frequent biscuits, so that by fourth glass, she was again speaking warmly to him when they returned to the upper deck to watch as the Montagne neared the harbor under minimal sail.

The two long stone piers nearest the river were empty, except for a small fishing shack that was tied almost at the seawall at the base of the pier. Where the warehouses had stood along the stone boulevard behind the seawall and facing the harbor, all that remained were the blackened stone foundations, stretching for almost half a mille. The two smaller piers, the ones that had been timber, had burned down to blackened and weathered pilings. The third stone pier, farther west, was the only one that showed any activity, with a coastal schooner near the end on the east side, and a single-masted craft perhaps twice the size of the Montagne’s pinnace.

For all that he thought he was prepared to see what had happened to the harbor, Quaeryt could only look. There’s no way we’ll have enough mounts … not with the destruction here.

“Kharst did all that?” asked Vaelora.

“I don’t know. It could have been Aliaro. Once the Khellans were defeated, he could have landed a few ships and fired the entire place. Or it could have been Kharst’s men, or factors or officers acting for him. They both wouldn’t want an open port here, and in a few years, the Pharsi survivors could have been back trading. They will be, anyway. It’ll just take longer.”

“They all hate the Khellans that much?”

“I doubt it. Just business. The Pharsi are better traders. So, when the Pharsi couldn’t do anything, whoever it was fired the entire port. If they left the warehouses and all the piers, in months some trading would have resumed.”

“Lines out!”

As seamen scurried about, sails reefed in, and as Nykaal issued the orders to ease the big vessel up to the stone pier, Quaeryt looked beyond the harbor. From what he could tell, most of the shops and dwellings farther from the water and the river looked to be largely intact, although he did see one or two that had been burned out. There were people on the streets … but only a fraction of the numbers he recalled from when he’d ported at Kherseilles so many years before.

We’re supposed to find mounts here? He couldn’t help but keep thinking about that.