The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [50]
“The lads sleep on deck, but we do put up an old tent if it rains,” Cabydd remarked. “The ship has to look shabby, you see, and I have to look poor.” He shuddered briefly. “Let’s pray to Mannanan ap Lier to keep the Eldidd galleys away! Once we pass Cerrmor, we’ll pick up an escort—you’ll see—but I’ve no desire to find myself in the middle of a sea battle.”
Even though the wind was brisk, it took them two full days to reach Cerrmor in the lumbering, awkward boat. They never put into the harbor, because a sleek Cerrmor war galley was already waiting for them. Cabydd ordered the sails down and let the boat drift while the galley manoeuvered alongside and grappled on. The rowers, all free men and marines, rested at their oars while their captain made the precarious jump up to the cattle boat’s deck.
“We’ll follow the usual plan,” he said to Cabydd. “You stay about fifteen miles out to sea. We’ll follow a parallel course, just in sight of you. We’ll meet at the usual harbor near the Westfolk’s camp.”
“Done, then, but come in our way every now and then so I can see that we haven’t lost you.”
As long as they were in Deverry waters, the two ships sailed close together, but about noon of the next day, Cabydd and his crew turned the cattle boat’s clumsy nose out to sea and wallowed along against the tide until the galley’s captain hailed them and told them they’d gone far enough out. Although Cabydd turned again, the galley kept going, heading out to sea. From that point on, Cabydd spent most of his time in the bow, keeping watch himself rather than trusting one of his men.
Four long anxious days and nights on the open sea brought them finally far enough west to turn back inland. Soon the Cerrmor galley joined them, and they sailed together to a tiny harbor, little more than a bite out of the chalk cliffs, with a short, rickety pier. Although the cattle boat edged in beside it, the galley headed straight for the sandy beach. As the high carved prow scraped on land, the marines jumped over the side, grabbed the gunwales in well-trained unison, and ran her up onto the sand.
“Well, Nevyn,” Cabydd said. “Will you shelter on board tonight?”
“My thanks, but it’s just a bare hour past noon. I’ll be on my way.”
As soon as Nevyn got his horse and mule on deck, they smelled land and practically bolted for it. He led them across the soft sand to the scrubby grassland just beyond the beach, then returned to fetch his saddles and mule packs. A couple of the sailors helped him carry the gear over.
“Look.” One of the lads pointed. “Westfolk.”
On golden horses two men and a woman were riding up, sitting easy in their elaborately stamped and tasseled leather saddles, their pale hair like moonlight to their mounts’ sun. The sailors dumped Nevyn’s gear near his stock, then ran back toward their ship as if they thought the elves would eat them or suchlike. When Nevyn called out a friendly greeting in Elvish, the woman turned her horse and trotted over, though the two men continued on to meet the marines.
“Greeting, elder one,” she said in the same tongue. “You speak too well to be a merchant.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a friend of Aderyn of the Silver Wings. Do you know him?”
“I know of him, but never has the honor been mine to meet him. Do you study the moonland lore, too?”
“Yes. I’m going to be traveling east from here, going to Eldidd. Will I be safe on the road?”
“A man like you is always safe among the People, but watch out for the Eldidd swine. You never know what they’ll do.”
“Oh yes.” Nevyn agreed for politeness’ sake. “I’m surprised you’ll trade with my people at all.”
“The longer the war goes on, the more Eldidd men die. Besides, they won’t be trying to take our lands as long as there’s fighting to the east.” She raised her hand in mock salute. “May there be a king in Cerrmor for a hundred years!”
Although he was planning on going to Eldidd eventually, Nevyn’s real destination lay just to the west of the border, where out to sea rise the three