Peril & Profit Read online

  Sorn, with a wry smile, nodded. "Though perhaps not the same tomes as you have."

  "Perhaps not," Halence conceded with a grin. "But one underlying theme often tends to remain the same. A man or group of men crave power, whether to rule, or simply to prevent others from ruling over them, and I suspect the reason is that they wish to have the freedom to do whatever it is they want with their lives, whether it be commanding others, or being left to their own devices. The point is, of course, that it rarely if ever works out that way.

  "As soon as they first taste the sweet fruits of victory, they are burdened at once by the twin obligations of administrating over their conquests, so that all the profitable lands viewed so avariciously remain profitable, and protecting their conquests, so that another doesn't take it from them. Rest assured, young Sorn, for all their hunger for power, most of their time is spent in administrative work and worry, trying to defend their lands and keep them profitable. And revelry, excess? hardly at all. Not for those rulers who manage to hold onto their lands during times of peril, anyway. Just the cold satisfaction of knowing that for one more day their kingdom is their own.

  “So for all that a man's avarice would have him strive for that pinnacle, the unspoken twist of fate is that those fruits are, most often, bittersweet at best! True joy is experienced only by the man who is wise enough to see that it is the balmy alcoves away from the steep slope of dominion, conquest, and rule where true happiness is to be found. Happiness is the freedom to do as you choose with your life without the care of endless responsibility over all those who would demand your time and energy and, against enemies, your protection.

  "Excitement, freedom, wealth, and even prestige, Sorn. Without endless worry, care, and bitter struggle. That is the safe haven with which to find your peace, away from the fierce competition of those who would destroy themselves fighting over ruby red fruit that is, at best, bittersweet. Yet if you look below the bland-seeming rinds of the life of a trader, my young friend, you will find a life that is rich and sweet indeed! So tell me, lad, do you understand what I am saying?"

  "I think I do," Sorn said, touched by the warmth of the captain's voice and the words of wisdom and insight that spoke so eloquently of his own empathy for Sorn, or for whom he perceived Sorn to be. In his own way, Halence seemed to be reaching out to him, guiding him with bits of wisdom that if anything conveyed insights into the captain's own past. Though they were, for the moment, comrades with a healthy regard for each other, Sorn had the sense it could blossom into a true friendship. Perhaps the captain saw Sorn as a fellow traveler on his own lonely road. This, of course, made Sorn feel a tad bit of regret for the need to deceive Halence, though the deception was a passive one.

  Sorn had simply not bothered to correct the Captain's assumption, so like the wizard Valentien's, that Sorn's capabilities had more to do with the harnessing of the power of artifacts, than the manifestation of his own natural talent. And considering that in no way had he broken his word, his discretion did not make him in any way guilty of treating the captain 'unfairly'. Indeed, Sorn's discretion simply allowed for a level playing field wherein the captain's preconceptions enabled him to treat Sorn more fairly than if he knew what Sorn was really capable of. Thus, Sorn judged his honor quite intact. And as for risk, whether it be fear of an artifact exploding, or the uncontrolled fury and change that could be released when too much battle magic was cast in hot blood, in either case, the risks were very real, and a definite danger to the crew. So here, too, Sorn had been honest, even if not quite in the way that Halence might suspect.

  "You saved our lives this night, my young friend," Halence said, placing a comradely arm on Sorn's shoulder. "Your talents saved us from another's folly."

  "How so?" Sorn asked quizzically. "All I recall is Bates' frantic pounding on our door, and from then on it was panic and chaos until… you know." Sorn didn't even want to think about the unbridled fury that had been pouring through him. A sweet, seductive rage that took such delight in obliterating his enemies. A fiery wrath that had been triggered, ironically, by seeing one of his own shipmates burning alive, and his own friend, Bates, becoming a victim to one of the crossbow bolts that had been tearing through the night. It was a state of dark transcendence to which all too many of his own relatives would welcome him as an initiate of that grim brotherhood of fury and destruction. It was a path that, had he a choice, he did not want to tread.

  "Yes, I know," Halence said softly, perhaps he too thinking about Bates, and wishing the ship would pull into port that much sooner. "Vincent," the captain said softly after a moment. "New crewman. Took him on before we met up at Jesere's. You may note he was the one man who didn't practice with the crossbows." Sorn, in truth, could only shake his head slightly, having no idea who this man was at all. "Don't worry. In any event, it doesn't matter now." The captain sighed. "You see, Sorn, I knew well how dangerous these waters were, even before you had helped us dodge that patrol. I knew we were heading into thicker soup than I had imagined. That is one reason why I was adamant about us not turning south again until full dark, and why I ordered absolutely no lights."

  Halence's voice became hard with those last few words, and though he had removed his arm from Sorn's shoulder Sorn could sense him shaking in anger for a moment before he composed himself. "No matter, best not to speak ill of the dead. In any case, Vincent, for whatever reason, did not take my orders too seriously, I fear, or else couldn't help himself. In any event, it was some time before I caught the flickering glow of his pipe from the upper deck. I am sure you can imagine what my reaction was, and the look of terror in his eyes reflected in the moonlight when I had him hanging halfway off the ship made me feel like perhaps I was the one who was overreacting. It turns out, of course, that I was anything but. I had thrown his pipe over, of course, but by then it was too late. I am sure you can imagine how the glow of that man's pipe was visible for miles on an otherwise dark sea. And you saw yourself how it drew them in. It was only minutes later that we were hit with pitch, and soon after that, well, here we are. We barely escaped certain doom due to nothing more than a foolish sailor and a captain who was himself too much of a fool to smell the pipe smoke on the man before I hired him, knowing full well as I did that we might have to do a nighttime blockade run, and that I did not know this man. No, Sorn, that man was just a sailor, less wise than most, perhaps, and he has already paid the price for his mistake. It was I that was the fool to hire him."

  Halence shook his head. "I lost three men tonight, Sorn. And if the fates are against us, we will lose two more." His grim tone told Sorn how much the captain grieved for the loss, and his voice became one of iron resolve when next he spoke. It was an inflection that, for whatever reason, gave Sorn an uncomfortable tingle of foreboding. "We paid a dear price, my friend, one that almost cost us our lives, bringing our grain to these people. Rest assured, Sorn. Caverenoc will pay well for the grain that we have sacrificed our own blood to bring." Halence paused in brooding silence for several minutes as the helmsman brought them ever closer to the myriad flickering lights, both torch and lamplight, that could be seen from the shore.

  It was only when they had been roped in that their guide politely inquired as to whether or not Halence still wished to be directed to the healer. At this point, the captain visibly shook himself from his brooding and turned to face his crew.

  "Tonight, we rode through the blockade and emerged past numerous enemy warships in triumph! To the best damn crew that ever swam the Casroth sea!" the captain roared, and his crew cheered in turn. "As you know," Halence began, once again clapping Sorn on the back, "this young firebrand is half the reason why we made it through. In Sorn we have a very rare thing, my friends. By rare, do I mean having a sorcerer in our midst that can blow our enemies to smithereens before he gets in his peach fuzz? Not at all! What's so surprising is to have a trader on board who is actually worth his salt for once!" This drew an appreciative chuckle from the crew, and Sorn could feel the awe
and tension gently ease to admiration and fondness via the endearment of the captain's humor. Sorn couldn't help smiling; Halence was skilled at managing his crew. "To Sorn. Ship's wizard, worthy trader, and firebrand extraordinaire!"

  "To Sorn!" the crew roared, cheering him in unison. It was an experience that left Sorn feeling both abashed and pleased, all at the same time. So this was a taste of glory, he thought, feeling the glow of pride put a goofy smile on his face. Not bad! Though in the back of his mind he held onto the memories of those terrible moments of pitched battle as a reminder of how ugly things had truly been. Still, he allowed himself to be wrapped in the warm glow of admiration and gratitude bestowed upon him by captain and crew alike. It was apparently believed that Sorn was the only one who had thrown the balls of searing flame, and perhaps that was for the best. Nonetheless, his cousins, whose curiosity had out won their fatigue, were at that moment clambering up to the foredeck. Sorn felt that they deserved recognition as well, even if all he could do was acknowledge them with humor.

  "To my cousins! Without whose dear help, which entails as often as not physically kicking out of my bed, I would have probably slept through the whole thing!" This drew an appreciative chuckle, and it relieved Sorn to see by their smiles that his cousins were okay with the focus being on Sorn. He would have to talk to them as soon as possible and agree on what to tell the captain and crew, however. The captain, at least, had witnessed their magic missiles.

  Halence spent a minute or two further commending his men while the grizzled Vaughn and the almond-eyed youth Sebrie gently brought up Bates on a stretcher, the sight of which had an instant sobering effect on the crew. Two other crewmen came up with another injured sailor whom Sorn didn't recognize. He, at least, was groaning, and Sorn assumed he was in better shape than poor Bates, whose pale face and rapid breathing did not bode well.

  Halence turned once more to address his crew. "All right, men, we are staying here at the ship until word makes its way to the castle that we have grain to sell. I suspect they will make us a considerable bid. In any event, Vaughn will stick around to keep you all company, but don't worry. He has been specifically instructed to turn a blind eye to any empty ale or brandy flasks on this night. Celebrate, lads! We have survived death this night! And if all goes well, we shall all enjoy the fruits of the port on the morrow!"

  This resulted in a number of knowing chuckles, though Sorn and his cousins were a bit confused by what must have been yet another metaphor, for the taste of ripe fruit was on no one's tongue. No matter, time enough to learn later, Sorn resolved. "Sorn, I want you with me tonight," Halence said quietly as he moved to pick up one end of Bates's stretcher. Sorn gave a quick nod and hurried over to his cousins as Halence slowly made his way off the ship.

  "Again, you guys, excellent work," Sorn said, giving them each a hug. "They seem to want to believe it's all me, and that's fine. I know and you know that you guys took out one of the ships all on your own, and if no one else knows? Well, that just makes you our secret weapon. Our edge against all enemies. Now I have to go accompany Halence. I'm guessing it's something to do with the grain, and I would appreciate it if you guys laid low and just enjoyed yourselves. You can tell them how you saved my back from any number of crossbow bolts. After all, you're knights extraordinaire, protecting the ship's wizard, right? And you have Lord Canterbier's pins to prove it! Just don't drink so much that you end up saying things you'll regret tomorrow morning, all right?"

  Fitz nodded. "Well, I guess we could use that as our story. We are, after all, knights extraordinaire! Okay, Sorn, you want to take credit for the fireballs so that we remain cloaked from sight, we can do that, right guys? It's tactics!"

  "Well fine," Hanz said, "but if they ask how we became knights, then we can tell them about the bandits!"

  "Yes indeed, we were truly awesome that day!" Lieberman crowed.

  Fitz nodded. "That's because we're knights extraordinaire!" At this a number of the crewmen's heads turned, no doubt sensing a story, and, Sorn had no doubt, they would soon be getting a very colorful one.

  "Well, I will leave you to it," Sorn said with a parting smile for his cousins as he quickly made his way to the slower moving group of sailors carrying their men via stretcher. The navigator who led them soon enough had them before what looked to be a small apothecary, with a sign of several herbs hanging over the door. Receiving a nod from Halence, the man politely began to knock.

  Sorn had found himself once again impressed by the size and immensity of this land's port cities. Caverenoc, it seemed, was a city that believed in quality stonework and didn't cut corners, though the original masons may well have been dead for centuries. All the buildings were large, looked well constructed, and were made, or so it seemed, almost entirely of stone. The buildings were either two or three stories tall, and it seemed that numerous families or businesses occupied each building as noted by the relatively frequent spacing of doors. Additionally, these buildings had the unique feature of outer stone stairways that arched over the doorways, leading to what Sorn assumed were apartments on the second floor. Even the buildings near the docks looked to be constructed of solid stone, the only exception being several large wooden warehouses that had looked like they were almost jutting over the water, though it was dark enough, and that area had had little in the way of lamplight, so it was hard for even Sorn to be sure.

  In his heart, Sorn knew he was doing his best to distract himself from Bates' condition, stealing himself to look once again at the pale-faced countenance of his friend when the door to the apothecary was finally opened to their guide's politely insistent knocking. A dark-haired woman opened the door and looked on the verge of giving them an angry retort, fatigue plainly written on features both careworn and beautiful, when her gaze locked upon Bates and his companion, that man still moaning softly, and Sorn was not sure if that boded ill or good. The woman stepped over to make a cursory inspection of the sailors' wounds in what looked to Sorn to be a very professional manner. A frown of concern over Bates in particular left Sorn with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "All right," she said at last. "Bring them in, carefully. At least you brought them in stretchers."

  She led them into what looked to be a well-appointed apothecary, well lit by the light of two steadily burning lamps. It was not overly large, but appeared well organized. Neatly ordered bundles of herbs hung from ceiling hooks and upon any number of shelves, along with various vials and tinctures of what Sorn could only assume were healing salves of one sort or another. Near the doorway was a window that no doubt let in a fair amount of light and fresh air during the day, but was at present locked and shuttered. All this Sorn gathered in a few quick glances as the healer led them in all haste past this room to a larger room supplied with dressers, trays, and several comfortable looking beds, at which point she addressed the group before her directly.

  "Put the men down, gently. I will not mince words, sirs. Though I may be able to save the older man without too much trouble, for the younger I will need the help of my sisters. Normally we treat the wounded at our clinic midcity, but considering the nature of your friend's injuries, we shall treat him here as best we may. Now wait here but a few moments, and I shall be back with my fellow healers."

  She then darted outside, returning shortly thereafter with two older women whom Sorn assumed were neighboring healers. The oldest one, hair silver, face still strong despite a number of fine wrinkles, looked over both men again with a practiced eye, particularly Bates, before sighing and turning to face the young healer herself. "It does not look good, Salrie. The boy's intestines have been punctured, and foulness will soon enter the abdomen if it has not already. If we are to perform a healing, it has to be quick."

  "Healing?" Halence's face was a study of concern. "My ladies, can you help my men?"

  "Yes, sir, we can," said the senior of the three healers, now addressing Captain Halence. "But my sisters and I will need to begin promptly, and that means that you gentleme
n need to shoo!" With that, Salrie, the young woman who owned the apothecary, gently led them to the door. "Fear not, sirs, we will do all we can for your companions, but we must begin immediately, and you must understand that we need quiet and privacy to perform our healings. Come back in the morning. For good or ill, we will tell you how they fare then."

  Halence, to his credit, gave a respectful nod to her requests. "Two questions, gentle lady. First, do you think they will pull through?"

  With this, the young woman sighed, clearly somewhat stressed herself by the prospects. "In truth, I don't know. It's hard to tell at this point. Though the sooner started, the better, of course."

  "Of course. The second question. Are the arts you use herbal or arcane?"

  Salrie smiled at that. "Perhaps a bit of both, Captain. Does this distress you?"

  "Far from it, my dear. I can say in truth that not only am I comfortable with practitioners of the arcane, but that I would place my life in their hands unhesitatingly, should the situation call for it."

  This, of course, left Sorn feeling more than a little bit embarrassed, wanting to focus on anything but the captain's words, or the gazes of the sailors that had helped carry the stretchers which he could feel upon his back.

  Salrie, it appeared, was taking a new measure of Halence as he continued. "Why I ask, gentle lady, is not to pass judgment on whatever technique you use to heal the ill, but rather to ask if by any chance an additional practitioner of the arcane might further serve to facilitate the healing of our companions."

  "Ah," Salrie said, nodding slightly. "I appreciate your open-mindedness very much, Captain. Please realize, however, that just as there are different means of travel, whether by horse, or by ship, or by wing, so to speak, so too there are different ways in which supernatural energies interact with the mundane realm. Some supernatural resonances are based on life, and work best when channeled through various herbs and tinctures used for healing, the energies serving to enhance an herb's natural healing properties, if you will. These enhanced tinctures can have significant results, and are what the layman often refers to as potions. Only some practitioners who channel energies beyond the mundane are so focused on healing, however. It takes much effort, and diligence to learn the art. And furthermore, one must have the inclination, both in terms of temperament and natural talent. If you know of one who is so talented and has training in herbs and other healing remedies, then by all means, send that person to us immediately. If his strengths lie in other areas, however, I am afraid he will be of little aid to us."