The Hag's Contract

Two

Ythril Candabraxis pulled up the hem of his robes and allowed Parniel Bowspear to take his elbow and help him down the gangplank to the longboat.

The spell of charming seemed to be holding remarkably well, considering the inner turmoil the mage now sensed in Bowspear. The pirate captain apparently carried traces of an old and powerful bloodline, and so could fight against the spell on some inner level. Lesser men would merely have surrendered their wills completely.

Candabraxis could barely believe what he’d just done. Was he mad, getting off in Grabentod? A week before, he had booked passage on the Truda Fey in Velenoye, a small holding on the northeastern coast of Cerilia, and his destination had originally been Müden. Following the end of his journeyman’s contract, he had decided to see the world and set about making his name and fortune. He’d thought Müden, with its rich merchants, would be a good place to look for a patron, but as they’d sailed past Grabentod’s rocky shores, he’d found himself staring inland more and more. Some inner sense spoke to him about this place. He couldn’t say why, exactly, but he felt some flicker of recognition, a sense of déjà vu, and he had slowly come to realize that his destiny might, in fact, lie here.

The strange calm that left them all but stranded off Grabentod’s coast for the previous day merely added to his convictions. It had happened too conveniently. His old master had taught him that nothing in this world happened by accident, so after a long chase through the fog, when the pirates had finally taken the ship, he had decided to follow his impulses and accompany the pirates back to Grabentod. Perhaps, he thought, he would discover more about this kingdom and how it came to be so … familiar to him.

Bowspear personally carried the mage’s bags to the low cabin in the stern of the longboat. Candabraxis thought he might have overdone things a bit when he noticed how the other pirates stared and muttered among themselves. Still, they seemed to fear their captain, for none of them spoke openly of his odd behavior. Besides, the spell lasted only a day; he’d be back to his old gruff self tomorrow.

“Thank you,” he said as the pirate set his bags by the door. He turned up the wick of the oil lantern. A clear yellow light filled the cabin, revealing a single bunk, a chart table, and a rack of three swords by the door. Austere at best, he decided, much like the quarters of a wizard’s journeyman. He smiled. Yes, he thought, this cabin would do quite well until they made it back to port.

He turned to the pirate captain. In the light, Bowspear looked younger than Candabraxis had first thought, no more than thirty. His face, lined and creased from years spent in the open and under the sun, made a sharp contrast to his neatly groomed mustache and short brown hair. His hardened leather shirt and the short sword at his side looked expensive and well cared for. Clearly he was a man used to the best of all things.

“Let me get you a drink.” Bowspear fetched clay cups from a cabinet and poured them both liberal servings of a dark red wine.

Candabraxis sipped and found it excellent—a dry Anuirean summer wine. The full, rich taste gave it away. It had probably been destined for the table of one of Müden’s merchant-princes before being appropriated by Grabentod’s pirates. He’d seldom tasted its equal.

Bowspear went on, “Is there anything else you need?”

“How long will the trip back to Grabentod take?”

“Four hours, perhaps five.” He gave a shrug. “The men are tired. It’s been a long night. Now that we have our cargo, there is no need to hurry.”

Five hours … Candabraxis nodded. He could finish his sleep, he realized, and arrive refreshed.

“That will do nicely,” he said. He drained the rest of the wine, handed the cup back to Bowspear, then stretched out on the bunk. The pallet was harder than he’d expected, but it would do. “Return to the deck and keep watch. Wake me when we’re in sight of your port… what’s its name?”

“Alber.”

Alber. He wondered what it would be like.

Candabraxis came awake with a start and found Bowspear looming over him. The pirate’s face was grim. The spell of charming had started to wear off, the wizard realized. Bowspear had begun to wonder why he was being so kind to this stranger, but had yet to realize kindness wasn’t necessary. Hopefully it would last long enough to see them safely ashore. Although he could always cast the spell again, he didn’t want to—if he ended up staying in Grabentod, it had to be on an honest footing. Few people trusted wizards, and none trusted a wizard who kept those in power charmed against their wills.

“We’re approaching Alber,” Bowspear said.

Sitting up, Candabraxis gave him a quick nod. “Good. I’ll join you on deck.”

Together they stepped out into the brightness of late morning. The drummer beat a steady rhythm, and rowers pulled strongly at the oars. Shivering, Candabraxis pulled his belt a little tighter, glad he’d worn his heaviest robes for the journey. The chill wind had picked up, and it carried a razor’s edge this morning. He’d always heard that winters in this part of the world could be hard, and for autumn it seemed far colder than it should have been. No wonder ice sheets closed the local harbors when true winter fell.

Shading his eyes, he turned to the east and squinted. The sun had already driven off the night’s fog, and now he could clearly see the jagged, rocky coast of Grabentod. The longboat angled toward a natural inlet with steep cliffs rising fifty or sixty feet high to either side. Ahead, somewhere beyond the cliffs, he could make out two stone towers jutting above the land, and the dark smudges of hundreds of cooking fires rose wraithlike into the clear blue sky.

In the far, far distance rose the mist-shrouded Drachenaur Mountains. Rumor said half a dozen dragons lived there. For a second, the wizard squinted at their snow-capped peaks, but no trace of, movement caught his eye. Some people believed spotting a dragon meant ill fortune to come, although he put no store in such old wives’ tales. He would have welcomed such an exhilarating spectacle. He had, after all, set out to see the world.

Bowspear headed for the prow of the longboat, walking with a slight rolling gait that compensated for the longboat’s surging movement, and Candabraxis followed, steadying himself on the deck rails. From here, as the longboat rounded a curve, he had a magnificent view of the city ahead. He counted ten long piers stretching like fingers out into the natural harbor, and a number of sailing vessels lay moored there.

His gaze swept ashore. Long, low warehouses sat just inland, and beyond them, crawling up the slope of a hill, lay Alber proper: hundreds of stone houses with thatched or red tiled roofs, forming a maze of narrow cobblestone streets. On the highest hill, perhaps a quarter of a mile above the water, sprawled a large stone castle with ramparts and the two watchtowers he’d spotted earlier. From such vantage points, Candabraxis thought, the pirates of Grabentod could doubtless spot ships far out to sea. Perhaps that was how they’d learned of the Truda Fey.

He turned and found Bowspear once more scowling at him. “You—” the pirate began.

“Please, forgive me,” Candabraxis said, spreading his arms apologetically. “It was a minor charm, and one of no lasting effect. At the time, I thought it necessary to safeguard my passage. I wanted to return to Grabentod with you, and I feared you might refuse.”

“Why?” Bowspear demanded, eyes narrowed to slits. “You could have escaped with your merchant friend Edom. Why come here? And why save only half his cargo?”

Candabraxis sighed and leaned on the rail. “Young Edom is a fool, but he did me a few small kindnesses along the journey. This was his first trading voyage. He had invested his entire fortune in his cargo. Had you taken it all, you would have ruined him. Now, he will have profits enough to reinvest and, should he meet with success, you will have more of his cargos to plunder in future seasons.”

The pirate pursed his lips, but nodded slowly. “Very well, I accept that answer. But why come to Grabentod? Why not sail on to Müden?”

“Perhaps …” Candabraxis hesitated. “I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I had a feeling, when I saw this place, that my destiny must somehow lie here.” He turned to gaze inland and found a lump in his throat. “I cannot explain it. I have never felt anything so strongly before in my life. I had to come.”

“We have no wizard,” Bowspear said, regarding him carefully. “It’s something the king has tried to remedy for years.”

“Then perhaps I am meant to be that wizard.”

“There are other powers at work in Grabentod,” Bowspear said, still studying him, though now his look had grown calculating. “You would do well to choose friends carefully here, Wizard.”

Clearly, Bowspear intended that as a warning of some kind. Could a power struggle be going on in Grabentod? If so, he would have to watch his step.

“Friends … like you?” he asked tentatively.

“I’m the most successful captain in the fleet. My fortunes are rising. I would make a powerful ally for anyone looking to Grabentod’s future.”

“And where do you place your allegiance?” Candabraxis asked slowly. “With King Graben?”

The rowers had begun dragging their oars in the water to slow the longboat as they coasted up to the piers. Bowspear called a few orders to his men, who pulled ropes from lockers and prepared to moor the longboat.

Done, Bowspear turned and smiled. It was the look of a predator, Candabraxis thought.

“I am one of King Graben’s sworn men, of course. He is our ruler. If he were here instead of held prisoner in Müden, he would be ruler in more than just name.”

“But he’s not here.”

“No. His steward, Harlmut, rules in his name.”

Bowspear offered nothing else, and Candabraxis did not pry. By the very nature of their powers, wizards often found themselves embroiled in politics, and he had the distinct feeling a palace coup lay in Grabentod’s future.

The rowers began shipping their oars. Other sailors dropped fenders off the starboard side of the longboat as it bumped alongside the second pier from the left, and then they began lashing it fast. Bowspear leapt nimbly from the prow to the deck.

Candabraxis chose to walk back to the gangplank sailors had dropped into position. One of many lessons his old master had taught him had been: A wizard must be dignified at all times. Had he tried to follow Bowspear and fallen into the sea, he never would have lived it down. Nicknames like “Candabraxis the Soggy” or “Candabraxis the Clumsy” would have been the least of it.

“Start bringing the cargo ashore,” Bowspear called to his first mate. “Start a tally. I’m off to see Harlmut and let him know we met with success. We’ll divide shares tonight. When you’re done, three rounds at Blind Melior’s for everyone—on me!”

A cheer rose from the crew.

Bowspear grinned. “A good night’s work, lads!” he called.

Candabraxis joined him. He, too, needed to see the king’s steward. It would be interesting to meet the man King Graben trusted with his kingdom.

“This way.” Bowspear turned and started up the road toward the castle.