Once Upon a Winter's Night

32

Even as Camille approached, she recognized the craft for what it was: a raider ship… or so Fra Galanni had said in response to Camille’s inquiry about a picture in one of his books. “A terrible raider ship from the North, bearing tall, flaxen-haired, blue-eyed men, and you would think them sent from Mithras Himself, they with their proud ways. Yet they are not from Mithras, girl, but instead from one they call Woden, and a grim god is He. For His followers come in their longboats, their Dragonships, girl, with their axes and their shields and murderous ways to pillage and rape and despoil. You’d best never see one, Camille, yet if you do, run away as fast as you can.” Or so Fra Galanni had said.

Yet now Camille was hastening toward the craft, rather than running away, for this was the Nordavind — the North Wind — and she would speak with the captain of the Dragonship.

As to the ship itself, it was long and low and open-hulled, and Dwarven war shields were arranged along her sides. Her hull was klinker-built-long overlapping oaken strakes running fore to aft-and even though she had ribs and crossbeams thwartwise for bracing, still her hull had a serpentine flexibility that caused the craft to cleave sharply through the water, yielding a nimbleness beyond that which her narrow keelboard alone would bestow. And she was swift, for her length was a full fifty paces, yet her width was but barely five. She could mount as many as four masts, each with a square-rigged sail angled by a beitass pole to make the most of the wind. She also carried thirty-five pairs of narrow-bladed, spruce oars, trimmed to length so that all could strike the water simultaneously in short, choppy strokes, the oars now resting amidships on three pairs of trestles. A steerboard rudder was mounted at the starboard rear to guide her on her journeys.

As the Dwarves unladed the craft, Camille stopped one bearing a keg on one of his broad shoulders and said, “Your captain, sieur. I would have a word with your captain.” Yet even as she spoke she noted that not only was this Dwarf wearing an iron or steel chain mail shirt, so were they all.

Iron is coming, said Andolin, and this must be what he meant.

The dark-eyed, dark-haired, dark-bearded Dwarf, a half a head shorter than Camille, said, “Captain Kolor is the one you want, lass.” He turned and called out, “Kolor, en pike til se du!”

“En pike?” The response came from a Dwarf standing at the far end of the ship.

The keg bearer pointed at Camille and called back, “Pike, ja!”

Kolor gestured for Camille to come to him, and she said to the keg bearer, “Merci, sieur,” then began wending her way through the bustle of iron-clad Dwarves as they unladed their cargo.

And as she walked toward Kolor, Camille noted that the Dwarves’ axes and war hammers and maces and dirks and crossbows and quarrels and shields were all of iron and steel.

Ah, and did not Captain Anwar speak of the iron-bearing Dwarves? And Alain’s brother Borel said, “A few who sail the seas carry weapons of iron, of steel. It protects them from some of the monsters of the deep. They seldom bring it onshore, however, and then but in direst need.” No doubt, these are some of those mariners Borel had been speaking of.

Finally, Camille reached the captain, a Dwarf who could have stood no more than four-foot-one. He had honey-blond hair and a honey-blond beard and his eyes were pale blue.

He cocked an eyebrow as she stopped before him.

“Captain Kolor, I am on an urgent mission, and I need your help.”

“And you, my lady, are…?”

“My name is Camille, and of late consort to Prince Alain of the Summerwood. Yet he is missing, and I believe you know of the place where he could be.”

“Lady Camille, if I know of it, you need but ask. Has it a name?”

“Sieur, I only know it lies east of the sun and west of the moon.”

Kolor frowned and said, “My lady, I do not think such a place can even be.”

Camille drew in a sharp breath. “Captain, are you saying-?”

“What I am saying, Lady Camille, is that I know of no such place in either Faery or the mortal world.”

Of a sudden Camille’s knees gave way, and she collapsed to the dock, her stave clattering down at her side, and she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Kolor stepped forward to aid her, but from nowhere it seemed, Big Jack was kneeling beside her, and he glared up at the Dwarf and gritted, “What did you say to her?”

In spite of the difference in their relative sizes, a steely look came into Kolor’s eyes, and he said, “I but told her I did not know where lies the place she seeks.”

Big Jack ground his teeth, and for a moment it seemed he was caught on a cusp, trying to decide whether to comfort Camille or to lay this Dwarf by. Unflinching, Kolor stood ready for either. But finally Big Jack softly said, “Lady Camille?”

“Oh, Jack,” she sobbed, “I was hoping Urd was right.”

“Urd!” cried Kolor, reeling back. “Did you say Urd?” Yet weeping, Camille looked up at the Dwarf. “Lady Urd, yes. She told me of the winds that are not winds. She and her sisters Verdandi and Skuld aided me.”

“Maiden, Mother, and Crone, girl, didn’t you know who they were? The Fates, that’s who. The Fates! Am I to be cursed by the Fates themselves?”

They sat in the Bald Pelican, the night nearly faded away, the tavern empty of all but Camille and sleeping Scruff and Kolor and Big Jack, as well as a drowsy barkeep and a drunken old man lying under one of the tables, mayhap the same old man to whom Camille had given a bronze days past. Camille was just coming to the end of her tale, Big Jack’s eyes wide in wonderment, for this was the first of it he had heard.

“… and then Lady Urd said,

“ ‘There are winds that do not blow,

But flow across the sea;

A master of one might know

Where such a place doth be.’

“And so, by happenstance, I came unto Leport and found the four winds- East-, South-, West-, and last of all, your ship, Captain, the North Wind — but none of the masters of any of the four seem to know where lies the place I seek, in spite of Lady Urd’s words.”

Kolor slowly shook his head. “ ’Twas not by ‘happenstance’ you came to Leport, Camille, for the Fates-Maiden, Mother, and Crone-all had a hand in your coming. And heed, though the Fates control Destiny, ’tis said they must not interfere, must remain aloof, and can only give gifts for services rendered. Still, at times, at dire times, they do take a hand, and I can only conclude that times are dire, for they did take a hand with you. Yet we do not know what portends, but for their words that one might come who will pollute the River of Time beyond redemption. Yet even though dire times are in the offing, even then the Sisters cannot give gifts unless a riddle is answered properly. ’Tis then and only then they can bestow such gifts upon the one they would aid. Then the one given the gift can ask a question, and even then it may or may not be answered, and if answered, the reply comes in the form of a riddle. In your case, Camille, all such did happen: three favors, three riddles, three answers, three gifts, three questions, three replies couched in riddles.”

“But Captain, the three gifts they gave-comb, shuttle, and spool-but for the gold they contain, are quite ordinary.” Camille looked at Kolor and then Big Jack and asked, “What good can they possibly do?”

Kolor shrugged, and Big Jack turned up his hands.

Camille stared into her mug of tea grown cold and said, “Regardless of the gifts and riddles, my quest seems come to an end, for none knows of the place I seek.”

Long silence fell over the trio, but then Kolor said, “ ’Tis true I know of no place which lies east of the sun and west of the moon, but there is a place which might have something to do with your tale: ’tis an island nearly beyond the rim of the world itself, and it is an evil place, peopled by Trolls and Redcap Goblins and their Human thralls, or so the escaped slave we picked up at sea told us ere he died.”

“Escaped slave?” asked Jack.

Kolor nodded. “On one of our voyages we came across a Human adrift on a log, and when we plucked him from the sea, we found his leg to be gone from the knee down, torn off by the same creature that had destroyed his raft. He had managed to bind the stump, but, in spite of the salt of the sea, it had gone bad in the long, hot days ere we got to him, and he was out of his mind. Yet among his babblings he said he had been the pilot of the Swan, but the ship met ill fortune, and he and his crew had been castaway upon a place he named Troll Isle. There they had been seized by Goblins, Redcaps that is, and made into thralls, joining the other Human slaves castaway there before.

“We treated him as best we could, but he was too far gone, the stump of his leg poisoning all the rest of him. Yet he had moments of lucidity, or so it seemed, and he talked about the isle:

“Mountainous it is, he said, some forty miles across or so, covered with forest for the most part, but for the slave-tended fields. A formidable citadel sits above a ramshackle town, and one might think the fortress worthy of conquering, for within might lie great treasure, but the escapee said not-only Troll gold was therein.

“He was one of the field slaves, and over a long, long period, he managed to slip away enough times to make a raft and provision it with food and water.

“Then one night he went to the cove where he kept it hidden, and pushed off and away. By the time we found him, he had sailed for several moons, driven by the winds when they blew, drifting on the currents when not, living off the sea and rain when his own supplies gave out.

“I asked him where was this isle, and he marked it on one of my charts, and if it is truly where he said, then he had made a remarkable journey from there to where we took him up from the sea.

“He died babbling, muttering nonsense, and screaming of Goblins and Trolls, and there was nought whatsoever we could do but wait and then give him back to the sea.

“As to the island itself, I only know it as a place on a chart; my crew and I have never been there, for if we are to believe the dying man’s description, it is warded by a mighty fortress peopled by well-armed Goblins and Trolls, and, because of that, and because of what the escapee said, I deem there is no cargo of worth or booty of value to be had, and the only gold therein is Troll gold, a low-grade fusion of iron and brimstone, its glittering promise totally false, for it is of little worth.

“Yet since much of your misery and that of your Prince Alain seems to be entwined with the acts of Redcaps and Trolls-”

“Olot,” gritted Big Jack, making a fist.

Kolor grunted and continued, “-then maybe this island is the place you truly seek, though, Faery or no, I think it will not lie east of the sun and west of the moon.”

Camille turned up her hands. “Captain, think you that we can give credence to a man dying of delirium?”

“That I cannot say, Lady Camille. Yet, if his tale is true, if he was indeed a pilot, then there may be an island of Trolls and Goblins and Human thralls at the place he marked on my chart, and Trolls and Redcaps seem to be at the bottom of all.”

Camille sighed and shook her head. She pondered for long moments, no one saying aught, but finally she looked out the window and said, “To do nought whatsoever will in itself accomplish nought. Your isle seems to be the only choice I have left.-List, if you will bear me there, I will pay you with the golden gifts: comb, shuttle, and spool.”

Kolor blenched, and he thrust his hands out in refusal, saying, “No, no, Camille. I would not take what the Fates have given you.”

“Oh, would that I yet had the jewels I did sew into my garments, but they were stolen, and so I have little to-”

“Lady Camille, since the Fates themselves sent you to me, it means that my ship and crew and I have been commissioned by the Dread Sisters Themselves to be at your behest. Aye, we will bear you to that wicked place, if it is truly there, for the Fates so decree, but we will do so reluctantly, for I would not willingly put you in such peril extreme.”

Big Jack, who had said little, glanced at Camille’s stave. “When, Cap’n Kolor? When will you take us there? What I mean t’ say is: time grows short.”

Kolor looked at the big man. “You mean to go as well?” Big Jack glanced at Camille and nodded. “I was told t’ protect her, and protect her I will.”

“Oh, Jack,” said Camille, “you don’t have to go. It’s likely to be-”

“Quite dangerous,” said Big Jack. “All th’ more reason for me t’ go.” Then he turned to Kolor. “As I said, time is short. When do we go?”

Kolor took up the split and cracked stave-the blossoms gone, the carved vine withered-and examined it closely. Then he started, his eyes flying wide, and turned the stick into the lanternlight to see it more clearly. “ ’Twas the dark of the moon when we docked, yet look.” He laid the staff down on the table and pointed to the dark disk just below the grip at the top. A hairline-thin pale crescent marked the disk along the right-hand perimeter.

“And a whole moon beyond,” breathed Big Jack. “And a whole moon beyond…”

Captain Kolor sucked air in between clenched teeth and he looked at Camille and said, “Oh, my lady, I am sorry; I neglected the import of Lady Sorciere’s words.”

Camille felt her heart plunging. “Sieur?”

Kolor sighed and shook his head and tapped the stave. “A whole moon beyond is not enough time, for the isle is far, and the winds are against us; we simply cannot reach it in a moon.”