The Sleeper Sword (13 page)

“We’ll find it
hard to convince anyone to sail west even if we do find ship,”
Samuel remarked as he brought his attention back to the table.

“Now that’s
profound!” Marcus snapped. His irritability had more to do with
their eventual destination than with current difficulties.

“What of a
shuttle?” Byron suggested. “One of those travellers at the
Spaceport is bound to have something like that aboard.”

“And set a
precedent? If the Electan can over fly, why not others?”

“Over fly
what, Marcus? We head directly over the ocean from Two Town.”

“It probably
couldn’t fly that far.”

“We could
enquire, for Aaru’s sake!” Byron said, losing his patience.

“We’ve five
days left,” Samuel murmured. “Does anyone know how long a ship will
take to Valla Island?”

“Samuel has a
point, Marcus.”

“All right! So
let Samuel ask around.”

Byron’s lips
tightened, but he did not push the issue. “Marcus, go and catch up
on sleep, will you? Samuel can ask about the shuttle and I’ll
search for berths.”

He stood and
tossed coins on the table and strode out, a big man with a shock of
white hair. His dark travelling clothes drew attention among the
bright pleasure seekers, but, typically, those in pursuit of fun
were soon distracted. Byron, anyhow, paid them no heed.

“Shall I
escort you back to the room, Electan?” Samuel offered.

“No, no, go
ahead. I’ll pay, just go.”

Samuel stood
and left without further word. He too drew attention, but it was
his good looks not his garb that drew speculative gazes. It put
Marcus in an even fouler mood.

Samuel, like
Byron, paid it no heed.

They met up
for dinner at the tavern adjacent their hotel.

“No ship,”
Byron muttered and came close to admitting defeat.

“Nobody is
prepared to say anything about a shuttle,” Samuel added. “I think
they’re wary of our laws.”

“And so they
should be,” Marcus said and presented his news. “A storm is
brewing, apparently blowing in from the Western Isles. They reckon
by tomorrow night no ships will head out.”

He was clearly
quite happy about the situation.

“Luan will be
similarly grounded then,” Samuel mused, indirectly alluding to the
fact they might consider finding transport from that seaport.

“Luan is too
far out of our way now, storm or not,” Byron muttered.

The three ate
morosely, although Marcus did so with secret relief.

Someone
cleared his throat nearby, but only when a voice said “Excuse me”
did they look up. A decrepit individual stood at their table
turning a dirty cap around in even dirtier hands.

Marcus was
about to chase the man away when Byron’s huge hand clamped over his
arm and he glowered warningly.

Samuel asked,
“Can we do something for you, mister?”

The unkempt
grey head bobbed and a toothless grin showed. “It’s what I can do
for you, young sir.”

Samuel glanced
at his two companions. “Pull up a chair, join us for dinner.”

“Thank you,”
the old man said and found a spare seat as if by magic. He sat and
Marcus nearly shuddered in disgust.

Samuel lifted
a finger and moments later a steaming dinner materialised before
the hungry man. They let him eat and only when he leaned back at
last, licking the last scraps off his bearded lips, did Samuel ask,
“What exactly can you do for us, mister?”

“Sparks, sir,
the name is Sparks.”

“Pleased to
meet you, Sparks. I am Samuel.”

“I know who
you are - you’ve made many enquiries … and ol’ Sparks can help with
transport, ol’ Sparks is afraid of no storm.” He looked around
expectantly.

“You have a
ship?” Byron asked, leaning forward.

Spark’s head
bobbed again. “But not here, not in the Sound with these no-workers
- up the coast beyond Two Town.”

“What kind of
ship?” Marcus asked.

Sparks wagged
a finger, cackling toothlessly. “The Electan is here himself and
desperate for a ship. Now what does that tell ol’ Sparks? That the
voyage is important and can’t wait and the Electan doesn’t ask too
many questions.”

“Now just wait
…!”

“Shut up,
Marcus,” Byron snapped. “Sparks, we’ll pay you well.”

“Music to my
ears. Meet me in one hour at the dry dock. I have a horse and cart,
you’ll see us.” Sparks rose creakily and said, “A little advance
will aid me well, I think.”

Byron again
forestalled an irate Marcus with a well-placed hand. He nodded at
the old man. “Fine, Sparks, we choose to trust you.”

He pulled a
drawstring purse from one of his pockets, hefted it and handed it
over.

Samuel watched
the exchange with interest, impressed by the sorcerer’s willingness
to trust, and impressed, despite himself, by the supply of coins
the man seemed to have.

Sparks hefted
the purse in turn and placed it under his cap with a grin. “You can
trust ol’ Sparks.” He turned a searching look on Samuel and
vanished unobtrusively into the crowd.

“That’s the
last you’ll see of your coin! Byron, are you completely losing your
marbles?” Marcus issued. “He’s a pirate, no less, and probably a
murderer to boot!”

“He has a ship
and our money will make him loyal. He seems fallen on hard times,”
Byron returned. “We’re not rolling in options at this point and I
don’t see him as a murderer.”

“But as a
pirate?”

Byron
shrugged. That was neither here nor there.

“He was sent,”
Samuel said. “Someone who wants us to reach Valla Island in time
sent him.”

Marcus moaned.
“Let’s get spooky!”

Byron locked
gazes with Samuel, a hundred questions to mind, but all he did
after a moment was nod. “Then he won’t be running with our money.”
His eyes slid from Samuel’s. “Sparks, I think, will surprise us
yet.”

“Seems
likely,” Samuel murmured. “His speech wasn’t all hackneyed, like he
was … we’ll see.”

“Indeed,”
Byron murmured.

“What are you
talking about?” Marcus demanded.

“Marcus, for a
politician who knows how to listen, you can be deaf,” Byron
muttered. “Oh, save it, let us get our things.”

He rose and
paid for the four dinners and led them out into the night air.

Marcus stalked
past and ahead and Byron slowed, turning to Samuel.

“How do you
know he was sent?”

Samuel
shrugged. “Logic.”

“No, it’s
intuition, I think.”

“Maybe.”

“One that
borders on magic, friend Samuel.”

Samuel halted
and faced Byron. “I’m no magician, I promise you.”

“I know that
already, but you have something and it is why I chose to believe
you in there. I wonder who exactly you will turn out to be.”

“I am what you
see.”

“But what do I
see, my friend? Never mind, now is not the time. Let us catch up to
Marcus before he breaks the door down in ire.”

The journey by
cart was slow and jolting, but they were nonetheless grateful to
the sure-footed animal that picked its way unerringly in the
dark.

Sparks held
the reins loosely and cluck-clucked encouragingly on occasion;
obviously the two conspired on such trips in the past.

They gave the
Spaceport a wide berth in the early hours and passed Two Town
itself not long after and still horse and cart ambled forward. The
screech from an incoming traveller freaked the animal briefly, but
Sparks murmured in a pacifying tone, saying nothing really, tone
being sufficient.

They carried
on.

Dawn arrived
and the sun rose higher and higher. Even Samuel was concerned over
time wasted, each step taking them in the wrong direction, but
Sparks mumbled over his shoulder they would make it up once on
board, and they had to be content with that. On their left the
Assents closed in and the terrain was difficult to cover.

Finally Sparks
drew up before a jumble of rocks and bade them climb off; they
could go no further by cart.

Groaning and
massaging aching muscles, they stretched while Sparks released the
horse from its traces. He pulled the cart into a depression with a
practised manoeuvre and proceeded to cover it with a camouflage
throw.

He explained
he would send the youngsters for the supplies in back - hard sacks
that cushioned the journey - and then, leading his horse, picked
his way through the rocks, leaving the three men to follow.

Half an hour
later they stepped into a valley carved via hard labour from the
surrounding terrain.

It was green
and tilled and there were at least twenty stone cottages built
where the land was generally level. Geese, ducks, turkeys and
chickens ran freely across the small fields, with only vegetable
and herb gardens fenced against their intrusion. Each cottage had a
steep tin roof with elaborate gutters to catch rainwater for nearby
tanks. Men and women were about various chores.

The lack of
children was odd, and then a cheer erupted from one of the further
buildings - they were at lessons.

To the right
the valley ended in a small beach, pebbly and grey, and beyond,
hidden by a massive rock formation on either side, four ships lay
at anchor. It was a natural harbour and as eastbound ships had to
ply deeper waters, it remained hidden from general discovery.
Talented sailors had brought those ships to anchor. Eight skiffs
were pulled up on the beach and one was out trawling.

It was a
complete surprise, more so for never had a whiff of its existence
reached out. The valley, the harbour and the settlement had no
place on any map.

Sparks turned.
He stared at Marcus. “Electan, we live a wholesome life here. We
aren’t pirates and we aren’t thieves and murderers. We chose to
separate from general society and there’s nothing cultish,
religious or political about it. We simply enjoy freedom. I’m
taking a great risk in revealing my home to you, for you have the
power to bring the lawmen here and while they’ll find nothing
wrong, it will change everything.”

He spoke with
an educated voice and straightened to stand proud. He was a
different man.

“Sparks is
your alias,” Samuel murmured, silently lauding the man for his
chosen life.

“A necessary
deception. I am Larkin, leader of this community. Sparks is the
guise I employ when I go in to fetch supplies. Electan, we trade
our vegetable and herbs and our outstanding artwork - no piracy.
The ships out there are used to fish the deep waters and, yes,
occasionally we do go into the Sound - for passengers. There are
times when we don’t have sufficient to trade with and need the
funds the offworlders bring.”

Marcus drew
himself up, recovering from the shock of finding the hidden
community and finding that Sparks was not ol’ Sparks after all.
Maybe he was deaf, as Byron intimated, and blinkered.

“Larkin, I do
apologise for my rude behaviour and I further apologise for my
apparent prejudice. I’ve been under severe strain recently,
although most of that is of my own design. You and yours have
nothing to fear from me. Far be it for me to ruin what is obviously
an industrious and law abiding community. I give you my word as
Electan and Marcus Campian.”

Larkin smiled,
still toothless, and nodded. “I thank you.” He then rummaged in his
pocket and popped in a set of dentures. Fully teethed, he said, “My
wife hates it when I take my teeth out.”

Byron wheezed,
doubled over and burst out laughing. “Sorry,” he spluttered, and
laughed harder. Samuel slapped him on the back as he went into a
fit of coughing trying to swallow his mirth. Samuel smiled and
tried hard not to laugh as well.

Larkin was not
offended, but Marcus was aghast. “Byron, for pity’s sake!”

Finally the
big man gained control. “Larkin, it wasn’t you … oh, gods, Marcus,
you should have seen your face!” He burst out laughing again.

“Grow up,
Byron!” Marcus snapped and gestured at Larkin to lead on.

Chuckling
himself, Larkin did so.

Chapter
16

Tempt the gods
and be prepared to pay the price.

Unknown

The ship was
sound, neat and fast.

Larkin and
seven crewmen managed the vessel while the three passengers sat in
the captain’s cabin. Not one of the three had sailed before, but
there were no squeamish stomachs. Perhaps the jolting of the night
and morning prepared them.

“Remarkable
that no one knew of their community,” Byron said after they were
underway.

The people had
been a pleasant surprise. Friendly, healthy, educated and
industrious, with each having a task, even the youngest child.

Marcus smiled.
“They’re a heartening bunch, aren’t they? Kind of makes one warm
inside.” Samuel twisted his head in astonishment and Marcus glared
at him. “I’m not an ogre, Samuel Skyler.”

“Apologies,
Electan.”

“Marcus! Call
me Marcus; by the time this misadventure is done with, we’ll know
each other well.”

Samuel
inclined his head and gave a grin.

Marcus had to
forgo his usual attire for this journey. Strong breeches and a
heavy sailor’s tunic replaced his silk pyjamas and sturdy boots
took the place of the strange combination of sandals and socks.
They were similarly dressed, for Larkin warned of biting cold at
night on open water. Byron donned his big blue overcoat, while his
white hair hid under a dark cap. It grew chillier with each passing
minute. Marcus tamed his curls under a woollen sailor’s cap, much
to his disgust, and Samuel shrugged on his warm coat, drawing the
hood up to heat his ears.

“It’s getting
dark,” he murmured.

“Storm
clouds,” Byron said, craning backwards to see through the
porthole.