The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [174]
Bowing and trembling, the servant lass sidled over and grabbed the still-steaming tankard with a wadded cloth. When she brought back the fresh, she curtsied like a court lady, then shamelessly ran away. Salamander raised the tankard in salute and drank a good bit right off.
“So, my unfaithful Gilyn, you’ve learned your lesson, have you?”
“I have, at that.” Jill had thoughts of strangling him for all the blather. “But I’m not sure which one.”
The news spread almost as fast as Salamander’s dweomer fire. In little clots, pirates and townsfolk appeared at the door or the windows, stuck their heads in for a look at Salamander, then withdrew them fast and moved on. Finally Snilyn came striding in and shook the gerthddyn’s hand with a hearty bellow of laughter. As Salamander had remarked, cowardice was certainly not one of his vices.
“I’m cursing myself for missing the sight,” Snilyn said, sitting down unasked. “I would have enjoyed seeing the bastard swine running from you, sorcerer.”
“You’ll have your chance if anyone gives me any more trouble.”
“And a wretched small chance that is, unless, of course, you’re staying here long.”
“I’m not, truly. In fact, my friend, maybe you can help me. I’m minded to go to Bardek before the winter sets in. Do you know of anyone making one last run that way? I’ll pay good coin for our passage.”
Snilyn signaled for ale while he considered the question.
“Well, I don’t, at that,” he said finally. “But you might talk Buthvyn into taking you over. Whether he winters here or in Pastur is all the same to him, and he had a lean summer of it. Depends on how much coin you’re willing to spend.”
“No doubt an adequate sum. I have a great and burning desire to see Bardek again, the beauteous palms, the shining sands, the rich merchants with their sacks of gold and jewels.”
“Must be a tidy profit there, truly, for a man like you. Why, by the Lord of Hell’s hairy balls! You could take one of them caravans all on your own!”
“I prefer to charm the gold out of merchants’ paws, but you’re right enough about the profit. The way I like to live does not come cheap, and this little minx of mine is developing a decided taste for luxury. It’s a pity how easily young lads are corrupted.”
When Snilyn snorted with laughter, Jill wondered whose throat she wanted to slit more, his or Salamander’s.
“But this Buthvyn had best not give us one whit of trouble,” the gerthddyn went on. “I can set wood on fire with a flick of a finger, you see. Ships, as you well know, are made of wood.”
Snilyn went both silent and decidedly green.
“I see you understand.” Salamander smiled gently. “Fear not, I shall make sure that the glorious Buthvyn understands as well. Where can we find this prince of the oceans, this ferocious sea lion?”
“Down at the Green Parrot, but I wouldn’t call him all of that, truly.”
Buthvyn was one of the tallest men Jill had ever met and also one of the skinniest, his shoulders as narrow as his narrow hips, his long arms like ropes and scarred at that, his face all sharp edges and long, pinched nose. From the eagerness with which he greeted Salamander’s proposal, it was clear that he was not a successful pirate. He had a ragged but seaworthy cog, he said, and fifteen lads to sail it, all of whom, or so he swore, were loyal men with closed mouths. Salamander made sure of this loyalty by lighting the wood in the tavern hearth with one flick of his hand. As the flames sprang up and spread on the heavy logs, Buthvyn went pale.
“Straight to Bardek and no shilly-shallying around,” the pirate said, swallowing heavily. “As fast and straight as the winds will take us.”
“Splendid!” Salamander said. “Can you carry horses, or should I sell our glorious steeds?”
“I would if I was you. Hard trip across for stock, and this isn’t no big merchantman. You can get good horses in Bardek, anyway.”
“So you can. When do we sail? I detest waiting.”
“Tomorrow dawn when the tie goes out. That be fast enough?”
“It is. We shall meet you at the harbor while it’s still dark.