James Alan Gardner [League Of Peoples 06] Trapped

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Zunctweed was lying. Impervia and Oberon both tried their best piercing
stares, but Zunctweed wouldn't back down. Eventually, they had to yield to our
captain's nautical "expertise."
As the NikNiks lowered the jolly-boat over the side, I examined Crystal Bay:
both the harbor and the town. This close, I could see the fishing boats were
aswarm with activity. Crew members toyed with ropes or dangled over the sides
to examine the hulls; others banged away with hammers or swabbed hot pitch
around holes that needed to be sealed; still more mended rips in fishing nets
or dabbed bright red paint on the nipples of lurid figureheads. It was a furor
of spring renovation, getting boats shipshape after winter's long languishing.
People lifted their heads to look at theDinghy, but did so only briefly this
was the first sunny day after thaw, and no one had time to waste. Besides, our
ship was the sort used by Feliss customs agents to track down smugglers; and
while Dover-on-Sea was Lake Erie's smuggling capital, Crystal Bay surely had
its own share of midnight runners. When the locals saw what they thought was a
customs ship docking in their harbor, people kept their heads down and looked
industrious.
On shore, the same attitude prevailed: folks were ostentatiously busy at
various jobs, mostly refurbishing the docks. Like docks everywhere, these were
lined with automobile tires serving as rubbery bumpers; and it says something
about OldTech times that after four centuries, you could still find plenty
such tires. You didn't even have to visit a garbage dump go to any crumbling
subdivision and beside the collapsed townhouses you'd find the rusted hulks of
cars. Generations of kids would have pried off the most interesting bits, the
mirrors, chrome, and hood ornaments... yet the tires would still be in place,
weathered but adequate for nailing to the side of a pier.
Beyond the tire-strung piers were the usual dockside attractions a
ship-chandler's shop, a salting house, and half a dozen shrines to whatever
saints or spirits the local sailors appeased before setting out each morning.
I didn't see a tavern, but I wasn't surprised; these fisherfolk weren't
itinerants who hung around the waterfront, they all had houses in the main
part of the village.That's where the taverns would be: in the center of town,
where you could go after supper, drink a few liters, and have only a short
distance to stumble home.
Thoughts of taverns turned my mind to the previous night The Buxom Bull and
its aftermath. With a start, I remembered that Knife-Hand Liz had headed for
this same area shortly before we did. Had she landed in Crystal Bay? I looked
around once more, but saw only fishing boats. Perhaps the Ring of Knives chose
some other harbor for their landing (Zunctweed had admitted there were several
ports that were equally good for traveling to Niagara); perhaps the Ring's
boat had been slow enough forDinghy to pass in the night; or perhaps a fast
ship owned by smugglers looked the same as an ordinary fishing jack,
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especially to a landlubber like me. Tzekich and Xavier might be watching us,
hidden among the other ships... and all of a sudden I felt dangerously
exposed.
I turned to say something to Annah beside me... but she was already scanning
nearby boats with a wary eye. So was Myoko, a few steps away. And Impervia
paced back and forth along the rail, like a guard dog who expects trouble.
Oberon lifted his head high, sniffing for odd smells on the breeze. Pelinor
had quit asking nautical questions and was simply watching the harbor. Even
the Caryatid had stopped fussing with her pet flame; she'd gone still, holding
a single unlit match.
I gazed out on peaceful boats in a peaceful port. I saw no sign of danger;
but that didn't comfort me.
The NikNiks released the jolly-boat. It dropped the last few centimeters into
the water, splashing lightly. Pelinor had already tethered a rope ladder to
the railing; now he slung the ladder over the side and clambered down. The
jolly-boat scarcely rocked as he stepped into it solid and seaworthy. It could
hold eight people: three pairs of rowers, plus someone in the rear to hold the
tiller and an authority figure in front to shout orders (the boat swain or
coxswain or whatever one calls the tinpot tyrant of such a tiny craft). The
boat would admirably hold our somber band...
...except Oberon. He'd barely fit in the boat on his own, let alone with us
sharing the space. I had no idea how he'd get to shore though helooked like a
lobster, I didn't know if he couldswim like one. Nevertheless, one thing was
certain: if Gretchen came with us, Oberon would never stay behind on the ship.
Speaking of Gretchen, she still hadn't shown up on deck. If I wanted to be
cynical, I'd say she was just avoiding the sunlight... and perhaps making
everyone else wait for her. But that was the old, manipulative Gretchen; the
new, vulnerable Gretchen wasn't so easy to characterize.
"I'd better get our hostess," I said.
Beside me, Annah nodded and squeezed my hand.
"I've been waiting for you," Gretchen said.
She stood in the cabin doorway, dressed in her crimson gown: as stylish and
form-fitting as all her other clothes, cut to keep a man's eyes glued to her
body. She had a matching jacket and cape, plus dyed suede boots and a
broad-rimmed sunhat, all in crimson. I wondered how long ago she'd had the
outfit made how many years she'd kept it in her closet, having it catch her
eye whenever she rummaged for something to wear.
"So you're really a sorceress?" I asked.
"That's the question, isn't it?"
The only light came from above us, sun shining down the companionway. The
cabin behind her was dark all lamps blown out, all shine-stones put away. Her
sunhat cast shadows that hid her face.
"Do you know," she asked, "what kind of spells I'm good at?"
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"Besides shine-stones?"
"Besides them. What would I specialize in, Phil? You can probably guess."
"I'm not sure I want to."
"I don't suppose you do." She gave a humorless laugh. "Love and beauty,
darling. I specialize in love and beauty."
"They say there's no such thing as a true love spell."
"Of course theysay that." This time her laugh was a bit more real. "It
depends how choosy you are. The purest truest love may be impossible to impose [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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