The Towers of the Sunset - L. E. Modesitt [124]
“On the ship. How do you think I knew when the ship’s coming in?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.” Creslin gathers up his razor and shorts, wraps his single threadbare towel around his midsection, and marches back toward his near-empty bed chamber.
Shortly Klerris provides each of them with pearapples and bread, which Creslin eats while sitting on the only completed terrace wall, the waist-high barrier that will flank the walkway to the guest house that may never be built.
Megaera eats as silently as Creslin, taking slow, small bites.
He does not look at her, for he can no longer afford such glances, not when each glance reminds them both of how lovely he finds her.
The walk down toward the pier is equally silent, although Klerris points out the sails of the coaster from the hillside. “We should make it to the pier before she clears the breakwater.”
Creslin watches as an escort boat is dropped and precedes the ship toward the pier. The Suthyan coaster—its three masts making it the largest ship Creslin has ever seen—waddles across the harbor in the light wind, winching itself along on the escort’s cable made fast to the heavy stone bollard on the pier.
Creslin lifts his senses into the winds, searching the seas out beyond the small harbor, but finds no other ships, no feeling of the chaos-white that marks the wizards of Fairhaven.
As he returns to full possession of his body, the coaster eases up to dock. Two seamen leap ashore with a second mooring line.
The three wizards walk toward the gangway that is being lowered. At the end of the pier, armed, stands a squad from the keep, led by Joris.
Creslin finds himself leading the way.
A balding man in a worn gold vest thrown over a sailor’s blue trousers and shirt greets Creslin and Megaera. “The co-regents? You look just like the sketches, except younger. There’s a lot here, and we’d like to get it off-loaded. This harbor’s small for us, and the winds tell that the storms will be sweeping in ’fore long. Not before tonight, you understand, but it’s going to take some time—”
“What do you need from us?”
“Your seal, something, on the ladings once we get everything off. Maybe your clerk could do it for you. Understand the business of ruling—”
“We’re shorter on clerks than on regents at the moment. Once you unload, we’ll handle your documents.”
Before Creslin completes his sentence, the nervous captain is halfway back aboard his ship, and a muscular, black-haired woman, with a familiar smile that he cannot place, has stepped before them.
“Guard Captain Shierra, Regent Creslin, Regent Megaera.” The inclination of her head is as much a salute as either is likely to get.
“Did you have any trouble with the wizards?” Creslin asks.
“No. But then,” the woman’s face crinkles into a smile, and she gestures to the mid-mast, “we insisted that the captain fly our banner. One war schooner did follow us. It left halfway across the gulf.”
Creslin’s eyes note the crossed black-and-silver lightnings on the azure, and he returns the smile. “You seem to have a full group.”
“Two and a half squads, actually.”
“There are your quarters, rough as they are. We’ll discuss other needs once you look things over.” Creslin gestures up toward the newly completed walls of the addition to the keep. “We might as well get whatever you brought offloaded.”
“Some horses or carts would help. The . . . healer . . . was apparently quite persuasive. We brought field rations sufficient for nearly a season, medicines, seeds, and enough weapons—older, but serviceable—for another two squads.”
Creslin keeps his lips closed, but Megaera smiles as she senses his amazement.
“The healer also purchased a range of woodworking and stone-handling tools in Suthya. The forward hold is half-filled with surplus timber owed the Marshall; it was unsuitable for cold weather, or so the Marshalle claimed when she sent the voucher.”
“Now that is true wizardry.” Creslin finally laughs.
Shierra shares the laugh for a moment, then turns toward the guards lining the deck. “Let’s off-load!”
Creslin