Chapter 21 – The Caravel (3606)

Chapter 21 – The Caravel (3606)

Roztov spent the rest of the evening fidgeting and pacing up and down.

‘Just sit down,’ said Meggelaine. ‘You’re causing a draft.’

‘I need tobacco, Em,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll never make it through these next three days without a pipe to smoke.’

‘Just make yourself one.’

‘I’ve not tobacco to put in it though!’

Meggelaine tutted at him and waved him away with a dismissive gesture and went back to her cooking.

He sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. Meggelaine went over and patted him on the head. ‘Just calm down.’

‘Lost pipe. Lost pouch. Lost Broddor. All is lost.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ she said, being the less anxious one for once. ‘Besides, you know, those holy knights, sometimes they come back.’

‘That’s just stories.’

‘Well, what about that pouch you had from Moletown?’

‘I finished it ages ago. Nothing since we got to Stovologard,’ groaned Roztov, his head still on the table. ‘It was pretty nasty anyway. How did it come to this? How can Broddor be dead? We should never have come here.’

‘There’s no use crying over every mistake. You just keep on going, for the ones that are still alive.’

Roztov looked up at that. Meggelaine was a fine one to give out such advice, having been the one that had shed the most tears and voiced the most regrets by far since Broddor’s death. He almost said something to that effect, but then decided against it. ‘I’m going to bed.’

Later that night, Roztov found he could not sleep. He waited until Arrin was taking his turn on watch, then snuck downstairs to wake up Floran. The wizard was downstairs in bed with Tankle, they were both asleep. Initially Roztov thought twice about waking him and made to leave the room, but in the end he reached out and gently shook the wizard’s shoulder.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Floran as he got dressed. Tankle was sitting up, rubbing her eyes.

‘You don’t need to get up Tankle,’ whispered Roztov. ‘Me and Tup are just going to go on a secret mission.’

Once they were dressed and outside, walking along the fog choked streets, alone in their black cloaks Floran spoke. ‘What are we doing?’

‘We are going to get me some tobacco,’ said Roztov. He didn’t need to say that Floran was the only one out of his friends left since the death of Broddor that could be trusted to join him in some madcap scheme unquestioned, this was well understood between them.

Floran cast a spell on the top of his staff and it began to gently glow, giving off enough light to penetrate a few yards into the foggy darkness. There was a light drizzle in the air and no wind.

‘I’ve a few places I think we could try to find some, but we’ll start with the place I think most likely,’ explained Roztov in a low voice as they walked. ‘I heard them talk about it in the tower, the largest apothecary in the city, where dragon medicine is made.’

‘Dragon medicine? Really?’

‘Apparently so. I suppose they get headaches, bellyache, you know, sores and things, just like us.’

‘I wonder if a dragon can get piles,’ mused Floran.

‘That’s the first thing that came to mind when you thought of dragon medicine?’ asked Roztov.

‘Oh I don’t know. It just amuses me to think of it. Why do they not use magic to heal themselves?’

‘They have no healing magic,’ answered Roztov. ‘Most other kinds, but not that. Wizards are rare here, the dragons are too lazy to learn it and they rely on humans for when it’s needed.’

‘Huh. It’s possible they mistrust magic too, since most of it originates from the Spire.’

They walked on through the night until they came to the building that Roztov had picked out for their midnight raid.

‘You could have warped the wood of this door to get in,’ said Floran as he held up his light and looked at the entrance. ‘You don’t really need me here.’

‘I might need you for translating if I have to talk to someone.’

‘I suppose so.’ Floran then waved his hand at the door and it gently swung open. Together they skulked in and shut the door quietly behind them. The first few rooms they walked through were full of drying herbs, jars, pestles and mortars, arranged on high tables where people had been working, making medicines.

‘Incredible,’ said Floran as he picked up a jar and sniffed at it. ‘Salves and lotions. Prepared by men for the dragons.’

Roztov sniffed. ‘It’s here somewhere. I can smell it.’

‘Druid’s noses,’ sighed Floran and put the pot he had been holding down on the table. Roztov motioned for his friend to shine his light into the next doorway. Something moved around in the darkness then a sleepy rock lizard emerged into the light. ‘Here! What are you fellows doing here?’

‘Ah, we are inspectors,’ replied Floran in draconic. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

‘How’d you get in?’

‘We have a special inspector’s key.’

‘Oh right,’ said the lizard, sitting down in the doorway.

‘Ask her where they keep the tobacco leaves,’ said Roztov, tapping Floran on the shoulder.

‘How do you know it’s female?’ asked Floran looking over his shoulder at Roztov.

‘I’ve been around them long enough to tell, just ask.’

‘I’ll take you,’ said the lizard, leading them through to another room. ‘They dry the leaves here. Hey, what language are you two speaking?’

‘Special inspector language,’ said Floran.

‘This is the stuff,’ said Roztov with a smile, picking up some brown leaves that were hung on a drying rack at the back of the room.  He held them up to his nose and breathed in the aroma. ‘Sweet Etruna, I can’t describe how happy I am to find some actual tobacco!’

Floran led the lizard off to one side to ask questions of the other plants, seeds and herbs while Roztov stuffed his pockets.

Once they were ready to leave, Roztov took some vegetain bacon in his pocket, for the express purpose of bribing rock lizards and gave it to their friendly guide. She munched on it happily as they left through the door they had broken in through.

‘Are you happy now?’ asked Floran as they walked back. ‘That stuff isn’t good for you, you know?’

‘It’s good for me,’ replied Roztov. ‘We’ll be up on top of that tower with a hundred dragons in a few days. If a sly puff behind Lorkuvan’s back is what it takes to steady my nerves through it all, then that’s what’s required. You want it all to be buggered up because I was gasping for a fag?’

Roztov stooped to pick up a dragon cinder from the street. He then started to shape it into a pipe with druid magic.

‘Dragon cinder pipe,’ remarked Floran. ‘Nice.’

The pipe was long, with a round bowl, about an inch and a half wide at the end. Roztov took some of the smaller dried leaves and crumbled them into the bowl as they walked. Then with a magical finger-snap he lit it up.

Once it was properly going he took in a lungful of smoke, then breathed it out in a big cloud in front of them. Floran waved it away as he walked through it. ‘This place is smoky enough,’ he remarked. The rain was off, but the cobbles were wet and the fog hung thick and heavy in the street. Only a few lights were still on in the buildings above.

They were about halfway home when a group of ten or so men emerged from the foggy shadows of an abandoned building. One of them, a tall bullay, approached Roztov and addressed him angrily.

‘I don’t speak the lingo,’ said Roztov, jerking his thumb at Floran.

‘I said,’ growled the bullay, ‘I want your food, script and coin.’

‘Well, I could spare you some script, I dare say, but I’ve no food on me,’ said Floran amiably.

Floran reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded up roll of script and offered it to the bullay. He didn’t take it.

‘Is this a mugging?’ asked Roztov.

The tall bullay took a closer look at Floran and noticed the talismans and pendants that the wizard wore around his neck. ‘Forget that rubbish, give me all that jewellery you are wearing.’

‘Certainly not. You can have the script though,’ said Floran smiling benignly as the men fanned out around them, brandishing daggers and clubs.

The gang of runaways seemed rather puzzled at how un-alarmed these two out-of-towners were acting in response to their threats and menaces.

Roztov puffed happily on his pipe, largely oblivious to what was going on, waiting for Floran to sort it all out.

The bullay looked over to the druid. ‘What in seven hells is he doing?’

Two of the other runaways moved behind Roztov and he watched them from the corner of his eye.

‘He’s smoking a pipe, clearly. I wouldn’t provoke him if I were you.’

The bullay took a knife from his belt and pointed it at Roztov, who ignored him. When the bullay took a step closer, Roztov sighed and blew a cloud of smoke in his face. The tobacco was mostly finished in the pipe so he put it in his pocket and waited to see what happened next.

One of the other men, a smaller darker fellow, perhaps losing patience, took a swing at Roztov with his knife, but overbalanced and fell over when suddenly there was no man there, but a furry tailed rodent that squeaked aggressively and landed on the cobbles. It then scuttled off to the side of the street and up onto the windowsill of a first floor window.

Everyone except Floran watched with open mouths.

‘Interestingly,’ said Floran, as if it needed explaining, ‘that’s not a squirrel he just turned into, it’s a numbat, the only animal that Roztov can turn into wherever in the world he is. I have no idea what land it is native to... oh goodbye!’

It wasn’t the numbat that had scared the men off though, it was the dragon that was looming out of the darkness behind Floran. He turned and looked up at this new arrival. ‘Hello.’

‘No men on the streets at night,’ snarled the dragon. Floran observed that the dragon had a blue rune around its neck but that, thankfully, for whatever reason, it wasn’t active. ‘Who owns you?’

Just then, a furry tailed rodent scurried up Floran’s back and sat on his shoulder. It gave the dragon a long withering look.

‘What manner of creature is that?’ asked the dragon, shifting its head to look at Roztov with one of its large yellow eyes.

‘Well, as I was saying, it is not a squirrel as one may first suppose, it is in fact a numbat. I’m not sure where they come from, I suppose my friend would be able to tell you.’

‘Where is your friend?’ asked the dragon as it looked up and around.

Floran looked down at his shoulder and looked at the numbat which shrugged back at him.

The dragon, having had enough of their nonsense, began to activate its anti-magic rune. Roztov changed into a bear and swiped the talisman from its neck before it could react.

Floran, thrown backwards, pulled himself to his feet just as Roztov turned into a seagull and flew as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The dragon roared and swiped at Floran, but its claws slid off his magical armour. Not wanting to battle the dragon, Floran raised his hands and from each of them spewed a jet of large angry bees. He stepped further back as the dragon reared and tossed its head.

‘The bees!’ cried the dragon. ‘The bees!’

Floran poured on thousands more, then turned and ran. The dragon breathed fire into the air, trying to rid itself of the torment of the magical bees as they buzzed around its head, more and more of them finding their way into sensitive parts between its scales. It finally beat its wings and took off into the air and was lost to the night.

Half an hour later, the bullay and his gang arrived back at the scene and cautiously looked around. One of them saw the rune, lying on the cobbles, still attached to a length of gold chain. Just as he went to pick it up, a creature a lot like a squirrel but larger, shot between his legs and grabbed it. The man leapt up in alarm, but the creature was gone, squeaking and chittering into the night.

Two days after that, it was time to go back to Lorkuvan. It was decided that only Roztov and Ghene would go.

‘How will you understand what’s going on?’ asked Floran. ‘I would like to be there.’

‘It might be better to help Meg with the ship. Also, I don’t know, but if that rune-keeper we met after the apothecary is there he would recognise you.’

 ‘Dragons can recognise humans?’ asked Arrin.

‘Yes,’ replied Roztov. ‘You may as well take this as well.’

Roztov then took the rune he had stolen from the dragon from his pocket and put it on the table. ‘Only Tup can activate it anyway, so you may as well take it.’

Floran nodded and put it in his bag.

‘I’ll never get the ship ready without you doing the talking Tup,’ put in Meggelaine. ‘All those two need to do is watch what happens and stay out of trouble. We, on the other hand, have a lot of work to do.’

And so it was decided and they all said their farewells to each other. Roztov and Ghene went up to the roof and Meggelaine followed them.

‘We’ll not be back until after the Diet,’ said Ghene as he hugged her goodbye. ‘It will all be fine.’

Meggelaine instantly began to tear up. ‘Be careful you idiots,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t lose any more of us. Oh dear, oh dear. Please don’t get yourselves killed.’

‘We promise,’ said Roztov leaning down to give her a hug once she had disengaged from Ghene.

‘And you, most of all,’ she cried into his shoulder. ‘No more changing into a dragon. If you do it again it will kill you.’

‘You take care too,’ said Roztov. Eventually they soothed and calmed Meggelaine enough that they could leave. They then turned into seagulls and flew towards the tower.

The next morning Meggelaine resolved to keep herself and the others all busy by sorting out the caravel out at the mines. The harbour was getting more chaotic, as gendarmes were called up into the army and moved south and the dragons lost interest in anything other than the war. More and more of the thralls were not turning up for work, or simply wandering around looking for trouble. There was a heavy smog and this helped hide their activities.

Meggelaine, Floran and the two sailors walked the quayside untroubled by sailors or gendarmes.

‘What we want is a ship with sails we can use on the caravel,’ said Meggelaine.

Eventually they found something suitable. ‘That scow has probably got enough canvas for us. I don’t know for sure though, I’m not an expert,’ said Arrin.

‘Well, you’ll have to do,’ said Meggelaine. ‘We could always swipe some more at the mines if need be. Righto, so we are having that ship. All we need now is a crew.’

‘Wait though,’ wondered Tankle. ‘Is there anyone onboard?’

There was no gangplank, so she climbed up the mooring rope and disappeared into the mist. A few minutes later she clambered back again. ‘Just lizards,’ she reported.

‘Fine, good,’ said Meggelaine with a nod.

‘This is the plan then, you two stay and keep this ship secure,’ she continued, gesturing at the sailors. ‘Me and Tup will go get all the stuff and then see if any of the nice people in our street fancy leaving this island forever.’

‘We are leaving for good?’ asked Tankle in astonishment. Arrin whistled.

‘I think so, my dears,’ replied Meggelaine. ‘I’ve a feeling whatever happens at that tower... well, if I know those two fools, which I do, we’ll be wanting to get out of here quickly after it all kicks off.’

By the end of the day Meggelaine and Floran had assembled a crew of twelve from the local population, all young and dark skinned. Eight of them were women.

‘These ones are all very keen indeed to come with us,’ explained Meggelaine. ‘Healing all the sick and injured made us popular around here, but they would want to come anyway, or so Tup assures me.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Floran. ‘They are all runaways and the gendarmes would kill them if they found them.’

‘Well, twelve is enough to get this scow to the mines, Meg,’ said Arrin almost apologetically, ‘but we’ll need more for the caravel.’

‘Can these people even sail a ship?’ put in Tankle. ‘They all look like they need feeding up. Have any of them sailed a ship before?’

Arrin smiled at one of the short dark-skinned women and gently took her hand and looked at it.

‘They are tougher than they look,’ he said. ‘They are all fishermen, so they've only ever been in smaller boats. As long as they can haul a rope I suppose.’

‘Well...’ mused Tankle. ‘Have any of us sailed a caravel before? I’m not sure...’

‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Meggelaine with forced joviality. ‘It will all be fine. I’m sure some of the miners will want to join us. We’ll sort it all out when we get there. Let’s get out there now, before we lose the light. Chop, chop!’

As the scow slowly made its way out of the harbour, Arrin and Tankle manned the rudder and talked.

‘Who’s going to be captain of this caravel then? Assuming we actually get the thing under way.’

‘I only ever did the tops,’ replied Arrin. ‘I know nothing about anything else.’

‘I only ever pulled on ropes. When the midshipmen told me to pull a rope, I pulled it,’ said Tankle. ‘I know nothing about captaining a ship.’

Meggelaine had overheard them talking and came to join them. ‘We’ll all just muddle along then won’t we? You can both be captain, no? There is no nautical law against it?’

She pointed at one of the local sailors. ‘That lass over there, Vedi, she seems to know what she’s doing. She can surely operate a rudder at least. Put her in charge of something.’

‘Yes, Meg,’ said Tankle with a smile, as the nervous torm prattled on, jollying everyone along as they sailed out to the mines.

It took them the whole of the next day to get the caravel floated and underway. Tankle and Arrin were astounded that it had worked, but Meggelaine and Floran had powerful magic to help them. Meggelaine fixed all the holes with wood-shaping magic and threw out all the water in one giant wave that washed out over the deck and into the sea through the scuppers.

Floran, flying on the back of a giant bee went from mine to mine, landing on each one in turn and gently inquiring if anyone would like to join the crew. He discovered that during times of trouble and war the miners, sailors and stevedores would often talk of taking a ship away from the island, but that they were always too fearful of being found and sunk by the dragons. There were always one or two people desperate enough to want to leave though, even when salvation came in the form of a strange-spoken man riding a giant bee.

They had a crew of twenty by the time they were ready to go, the ship was afloat, the masts repaired and the sails hung. They spent the night at sea, making more repairs. None of them got any sleep. In the morning they sailed back towards the island.

Some of the sailors were very concerned when they realised they were not immediately leaving, but Floran explained that they were going to get two more very powerful druids and that would be very helpful for whatever perils awaited them when they set off into the open ocean.

It was a fine morning, the skies were clear and the fog and smoke that shrouded the city was being blown inland by a strong wind. The caravel creaked and groaned as they sped up and Arrin climbed up the main mast to reef in the topmost sails, shouting and pointing at the sailors that joined him. None of the local sailors had been on a ship with such tall masts before and they were nervous of the height.

The wind blew them swiftly towards Stovologard. Meggelaine was at the prow of the ship and for a while she shut her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the clean air on her face.

The ship penetrated the fog barrier and made its way to the harbour.

 ‘Oh my Etruna! Look at that!’ she Meggelaine and pointed up at the central tower. Floran and Tankle turned to look.

The top of the central tower, rising out of the smoke below, and still at least a mile away, was lit up with distant flames and the unmistakable fireworks display of destructive magic. A black mushroom cloud of smoke rose from the carnage.

‘That’s not good,’ remarked Floran.