Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [304]
And then one day we approached a port we didn't pass.
"Norstock," Skovik said briefly.
I wouldn't have recognized it from the sea. The harbor where Urist and I had booked passage with Captain Iosef was still frozen solid. We trimmed our sails, gliding gently until we bumped up against the ledge. Skovik's men reached out with their barbed pikes, securing the boat. They prodded the ice, testing, then dared scramble over the side, one holding the boat in place, the other grinning as he stamped on the ice with his sealskin boots, making sure it would hold.
Skovik tossed a pair of lines ashore, while Ti-Philippe struck the sails and lashed them. As the only experienced sailor among the lot of us, he'd been a valuable companion on this journey. One by one, we disembarked. We'd gotten fairly good at it by now, although I was concerned about the thickness of the ice ledge. Joscelin and I made sure Phèdre and Urist were well away before we attempted to haul the boat atop the ice.
A good job we did, too. When we hauled on the lines, the boat's prow rose out of the water and lurched onto the ledge. The ice crumbled beneath it.
"Back, back, back!" Skovik shouted.
It needed no translation. Half terrified and half laughing, we scrambled backward, digging in our heels and falling over one another, tugging on the lines, chased by the receding edge of ice. For a time, the boat forged a channel of open water. At last the ice grew thick enough to support its weight, and it slid atop the ledge with casual ease, resting there. We hauled it a few more yards until we were sure it was safe.
I flopped down on my back. "Name of Elua!”
"So." Skovik's face appeared above me. "Here you are.”
"Here we are," I agreed wearily.
He smiled beneath his mustaches. "We go now to find brave men to sail north to Vralgrad with us and hunt along the way.”
I got to my feet and extended my hand. "Safe travels to you.”
He clasped it. "And to you.”
I appreciated the sentiment. We'd made it safely to Norstock, for which I was grateful, but it meant we were back on Skaldic soil. I thought we stood a good chance of finding safe passage to the Flatlander border—Maslin had managed it alone, and the area seemed open to trade and well under Adelmar's control. Still, we were on foot, with a good deal of baggage. Somehow, I doubted we were going to find eager assistance in gaining transportation back to Maarten's Crossing.
And I doubted Adelmar of the Frisii would be glad to see us when we did.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
I was wrong.
It didn't take long to discover it. Skovik and his men headed into town, but it took us a while to get our gear unloaded and sorted. We'd barely finished and begun trudging across the ice ledge toward the town when the harbor-master of Norstock came out to meet us, a pair of armed guards at his side.
All of us dropped our packs and tensed.
"Don't." Phèdre shook her head when Joscelin's hand rose to reach for his sword-hilt. "They'd have brought more men if they meant violence.”
She was right.
The harbor-master was a tall fellow in his late fifties or so. He had a deep scar that sliced his cheek and dented the bridge of his nose, and he looked to have seen his share of battles. But his grey eyes were calm and his manner was unthreatening. When he addressed us in Skaldic, Phèdre stepped forward and replied fluently in the same tongue. I watched her expression shift to one of bemusement as they spoke. He gestured in my direction several times. I tried to make out what they were saying, but after long months in Vralia, I couldn't summon the wits to follow in my rudimentary Skaldic.
"He says they've kept an eye out for you, Imriel," Phèdre said. "On Adelmar's orders." She sounded puzzled. "It seems he's had a change of heart.