The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [126]
Nevyn got up and started amidships to find Amyr waiting for him. The young warrior was grinning as if his face would split from it.
“You seem glad to be going ashore, lad,” Nevyn remarked.
“We all are, my lord, and I don’t mind telling you twice. We’ve got our gear all packed, too. I wanted to ask you, do you want the prisoner brought up from the hold?”
“The who? Oh, Perryn! I do at that, and my thanks. See if you can get him into a clean shirt, too, will you? I’m going below to change right now myself. Don’t forget: I’m now Lord Galrion, and you and the lads are the honor guard of a very important man. If we’re going to pull Gwerbret Rhodry out of this wretched mess, we all have to learn to lie like thieves.”
“Done, Lord Galrion.” Amyr made him a passable sweep of a bow. “Shall I send one of your humble servants to take charge of your baggage?”
“That’s the spirit, lad! And come to think of it, a little help would be welcome. The regent loaded me down with all sorts of fripperies.”
Among these fripperies were some beautifully made pieces of clothing and badges of rank: a shirt embroidered with the Dragons of Aberwyn, a pair of brigga in the rhan’s plaid, a new solid blue cloak with a jeweled ring-brooch decorated with dragons to clasp it shut. In a pair of graved silver message tubes he carried letters from the regent, and in a velvet-lined leather pouch all the coin that Lovyan could scrounge up on such short notice. There were also two small wooden caskets, containing respectively Aberwyn’s second-best set of silver goblets and the absolutely best silver-gilt soup tureen, pressed into hasty service as gifts for archons. Nevyn put on the clothes, hung the pouch of coin round his neck, and consigned the rest, along with his regular clothes and his mule packs full of herbs and medicines, to the man Amyr detailed for the job.
When he came back out on deck, Elaeno made a great show out of pretending not to recognize him, and all the sailors stared openmouthed at the captain for daring to tease a man who could command the wind.
“Lord Galrion, is it?” Elaeno said, bowing. “Well, my lord, we’re almost to land. Your honor guard and your tame stoat are already assembled in the stern.”
“My thanks, captain.” Nevyn was grinning. “Where do we go through customs? It’s been a long time since I’ve been in Surat.”
“Well, actually, I think customs are coming to us. Look out there. Isn’t that a packet boat?”
It was indeed, a slim little galley with its sail shipped and rowers at the oars. At the prow sat a gray-haired man with coppery skin and the two red triangles of Surat painted on one cheek to mark his official status. When they came alongside, Elaeno’s men threw down lines, and after a few precarious moments, the galley was safely lashed to the merchantman’s side. In spite of his gray hair, the official was an agile man; he judged his distance and leapt from one deck to the other with the grace of someone who’s spent his entire life on boats. Elaeno bowed; Nevyn bowed; the official bowed all round.
“I see by your pennant that you hail from Aberwyn, good sirs. How, by the Holy Stars themselves, did you ever manage the run across?”
“Luck,” Elaeno said. “And pressing need in the gwerbret’s service. May we berth?”
“By all means.” The official was squinting up at the mast head, where the silver and blue dragon flag was curling