Chapter Ten
THE Calixian queen and her swarthy companion emerged from the trees and found themselves facing Stet-Arnak and his troop. Gwenay, dismayed at seeing her yacht disappearing downstream, and uncertain as to the meaning of the soldiers' presence, offered no resistance when faced with the point of a Dagran blade. Bargonast struggled to free himself of a pack of supplies, but the quick thinking swordsmen pressed in and disarmed him before he could twist free of his burden.
While the soldiers bound their wrists, Stet-Arnak posed pompously. "So, Bargonast, it appears that you've missed your boat. And now we have a very droll situation. I lost my pigeon, but I caught a vulture!" The Dag ripped the veil from Gwenay's face. "And who might this lovely lady be?" He turned to Bargonast for an answer, but Bargonast remained silent.
Gwenay reacted quickly. "I do not really know this man, honored priest. I paid him for passage to Dagraskal to visit my aging father."
Stet-Arnak laughed. "This boat would never call at Dagraskal. Your ugly friend here duped you. Did you take her money for passage, Bargonast?"
Bargonast glowered. "I did."
"Where is the money?"
Bargonast hesitated a moment. "Spent...spent on this pack of provisions."
Stet-Arnak mopped the sweat from the creases of his jowls. His reptile eyes drilled through Gwenay. "You both lie! But I will enjoy getting the truth. We will return to the village where you can have the pleasure of my hospitality!" He directed his men to fashion a stretcher for one of the wounded soldiers whose leg was hamstrung.
"Can you attend to these men?" he asked Gwenay. When she nodded assent, he released her bonds. She worked silently, cleaning and binding the wounds. The corpses of the two less fortunate were dragged from the creek and laid out on the shore. Stet-Arnak mumbled a prayer for the dead over them. Then, blacking his thumb with paste from a silver container, he pressed a thumbprint on each sick-white brow. He detailed a soldier to burial duty and led the rest of the party back toward Seaskal.
As the group strung out in single file along the trail, Bargonast found the opportunity to speak to his guard in confidence. When they reached the inn the guard spoke quietly to the priest out of earshot of the others.
"The priest-bane wishes to talk to you in private, honored Dag."
"To what end?"
"He claims to have valuable information. But he cannot speak in front of the woman."
"Bring him to my quarters."
When Bargonast appeared the Dag laughed at his disclosure. "She...the Hag of Calix!! With such an imagination you should have been a bard, not an assassin!"
"The part that should interest you, priest, is how she has regained her youth."
"Some magic elixir, no doubt." The priest's tone was derisive.
Bargonast paused to emphasize the importance of his next remark. He hunched forward. "The Qalandor Stone." Each word hissed like a dart to puncture the priest's aplomb. He shed his mocking manner and became rigid.
"Impossible! The Qalandor of N'olla is still where it has been for centuries--in the sacristy of the temple!" Now it was Bargonast's turn to laugh. "If you believe that, why are you growing old and fat, eh? Save your lies for stupid peasants. I know the Qalandor was stolen. Why else did your illustrious Arnak family keep me so busy killing the dissenters?"
Stet-Arnak rose and paced to the far end of the room. He stood with his back to the prisoner. He didn't answer so Bargonast continued. "The Arnak's power over time and life is no more...gone, finished. Bah! Faith in legends--that's what you depend on. That and political manipulation." He lowered his voice. "But there is a real Qalandor Stone, and I know where it is."
The priest turned and studied him speculatively. "And you wish to barter this knowledge for your life?"
"I don't relish the prospect of having my skin stripped from my living body while I watch!" Bargonast growled.
"All right, then. Tell me where you found the Qalandor."
Bargonast smirked. "Not so fast, fat man. It's not that easy. I must win the queen's confidence. I think she has it hidden in the Maijad Islands. That's her destination. Why else would she want to make this journey...other than, perhaps, to renew her youth again."
"Do you have a plan?"
"I do. But first...what is the return of the Qalandor worth to you?"
The priest thought for a moment. "I could let you escape again."
"Not good enough. I want a pardon."
"A pardon! For killing a priest? Impossible."
"And not just a pardon," Bargonast's voice rasped in a hoarse whisper, "I want to be the Dag-Arnak's chief assassin again with the title of Second Rank Priest and a purse of one thousand druacs!"
Stet-Arnak dropped his head so Bargonast could not read the cunning of his thoughts. He pretended to consider the offer, and when he looked up he wore a mask of camaraderie. "My friend, it will be as you say. You have my official guarantee and my personal promise on it. Now, what is your plan?"
Bargonast outlined his plot and the Dag agreed. After dark he was released. He went to Gwenay's room. While the guard shammed sleep, he shook her awake, cut her bonds and led her silently away from the inn. He took her though the streets to the waterfront. There he left her in the shadows while he prowled the wharves. In a short time he returned and, motioning for her to follow, led the way to where a pinnace was tied at the foot of a ladder. He handed her down into the stern of the boat and cast off, rowing into the inky blackness of the bay, dipping the oars carefully and pulling with long powerful strokes.
Gwenay broke the silence. "How did you do it?"
"One of the soldiers is an old friend. He owed me a favor and I collected." He brought the oars inboard and hoisted the spritsail. A chilly breeze tugged at the fabric as he trimmed the sail. They changed places and Bargonast took the helm.
She shivered and pulled her cloak closer around her. "Where will we go now?"
"Tonight?...the Isle of Cedars. 'Then, when it gets light, we will look for your yacht."
"It could be far away by now."
"I don't think so. Your captain was forced to leave in a hurry. He would not put to sea without adequate provisions."
"Ah yes...and if we find the yacht, we will be in the same position. That is, unable to leave for the Maijad Islands until we replace our food."
A chuckle of secret amusement rumbled from the dark figure at the helm. "I have foreseen that problem."
"Does that mean you have solved it?"
"It does."
Gwenay waited for him to elaborate but he remained silent. "Well, do you mind telling me your solution?" Her voice was edged by impatience.
"Not at all. The bag of provender I carried from Calix is in this boat...behind you in the bow."
"But...how did it get there?"
"My friend who rigged the escape took care of it."
"We are fortunate that you have such a friend." Her tone was ironic and her demeanor doubtful. "Do you think they will follow us."
Bargonast snorted. "Let them! Next time they won't catch me off guard with two hundred pounds tied to my back!"
"But there are five of them."
"Five cowards. The priest knows the caliber of that bunch. He will return to Dagraskal for a galley and a score of men before he takes up the chase. But now he has two reasons for coming after us."
"Two reasons?" Gwenay puzzled.
"My friend told me that your captain has a girl with him. She's the priest's intended. She ran off on the fat fool.."
"Tword reported that Felic had a boy helping him."
Bargonast laughed. "Tword. Ha, ha. So that runt can't tell a girl from a boy. Didn't you teach him the difference, Queenie?"
Gwenay ignored the question.
"How about it? After you got yourself all changed back with the beautiful body...don't tell me the old juices didn't come back. Or did they?"
She could not see his leer in the dark, but she could hear it in
his voice.
"Come on now," he needled, "twenty years of hiding out in a mountain full of runts. I'll bet you're ready to take on a real man."
"Hold your filthy tongue;" Her tone was caustic. "You crow like a rooster. But when I want a man I won't choose a miserable slime like you!"
Bargonast pretended like his feelings were hurt. "Well now...a fine way to talk to the hero who is taking you away from the bad old priest."
Gwenay turned away from him and faced the cold breeze. She drew her feet under her and hunched over her knees, vexed and shivering. The rapid slapping of wavelets against the bow had a soothing effect and she drowsed off without realizing it.
The crunch of sand under the hull intruded into her dreams. It was dawn and Bargonast splashed into the water to pull the boat higher up on the beach.
"Where are we?" she asked, blinking sleep from her eyes.
"On the island. Wait here. I am going to the top to see if I can sight the yacht.'" Without waiting for an answer, he crossed the narrow beach, clambered over a jam of driftwood, and entered the cedar trees that grew thick on the slopes of the hill dominating the island.
Gwenay got out of the pinnace and walked along the sand. Her legs were stiff from the cold and the cramping ride. She followed the water's edge studying the beach. The breathing hole of a clam caught her attention and she knelt down and scooped at the damp sand.. She got her arm in up to the elbow and gave a shiver as her fingers felt the shell. But before she got a grip on it, the clam escaped. She laughed to herself and brushed off her arm. Forgetting the discomfort of the night, she concentrated on the water's edge, hoping to spot another clam hole. With her mind so occupied, she failed to see Felic step out of the trees.
The sound of his voice startled her and she whirled about, round-eyed. She pressed her hand against her breast and took a deep breath. "You surprised me ...appearing from nowhere."
"You were studying the sand very closely. Are you looking for buried treasure?"
"I was thinking of when I was a little girl. We used to hunt clams along here. But what is going on? Where is the Sun-Eagle?"
"Anchored in a bay up this way." He waved toward the south. "I was watching for the Dagrans and I saw your boat. I didn't recognize the man with you so I waited to show myself in case you were his prisoner."
"That was Bargonast. It's a long story. But to be brief, we were captured just after you sailed down the creek...walked right into the priest and his men. Bargonast is wanted for killing a priest and I have agreed to give him passage to the islands. Last night he arranged our escape from the inn and stole this boat to get us over here."
"I seem to recall hearing of this Bargonast. Can you trust him?"
"No. But I am in an awkward position. In the old days, when he was a young soldier in the royal guard, he saved King Jult from death by torture. He is the sort of man that collects on such favors."
"Does he know of our mission?"
"Of course not! I told him nothing."
"Well, I do not trust his looks. I'll keep my eye on him."
"I don't think he will give us any trouble." she said.
Felic gathered wood as they talked and soon had a fire going. They sat side by side on a bleached log and shared its warmth.
"I am told there is a girl." Gwenay stated!.
"Oh, you know about her?"
"Yes. Who is she?"
"Her name is Chessa. She is the illegitimate daughter of King Cot and the promised bride of Stet-Arnak, the Dag that captured you yesterday. She is also a fugitive from the Dagrans."
"What is she doing on my boat?"
"Well, she helped me get it repaired so I brought her along."
"You should have let the priest have her."
Felic looked surprised. "Oh...why?"
"Because now he has two reasons to pursue us. We will leave her here...on the Isle of Cedars."
"No. She goes."
Gwenay's mouth dropped. What did you say?"
"I said she goes."
"How dare you counter my wishes." Her eyes sparked with anger and her lips compressed to a strict line. "I decide who the guests in my yacht will be."
"Then you have made a bad decision. If she stays, I stay."
"Stay if you will. Bargonast can handle this for me."
Felic poked at the fire before answering. "And Bargonast...he is a navigator?...a seaman?"
Gwenay sat in haughty silence while she considered this. Felic pressed the point. "And you think you can handle this Bargonast without help. He strikes me as the type who would slit your throat for the pleasure of it."
"All right. The girl may go. But she will earn her passage!"
Their conversation was interrupted by Bargonast's return. The two men were introduced and they studied each other respectfully, conscious that if they were ever to be on opposite sides they would be powerfully matched. They shoved off in the pinnace and rowed along the shoreline until they reached the bay where the Sun-Eagle rocked at anchor. A wisp of smoke curled up from the galley box. When they climbed on board Chessa greeted them with a tantalizing breakfast of fresh-caught fish.
After filling his belly, Bargonast lounged back on a coil of rope and was soon asleep. Felic loaded the provisions into the Sun Eagle. Gwenay had ignored Chessa throughout the meal, and Chessa, conscious of the queen's displeasure at her presence, avoided her eyes. Felic forced them into contact.
"Chessa," he ordered, "prepare the royal stateroom for Queen Gwenay. She is undoubtedly exhausted."
Gwenay followed Chessa through the companionway, and Felic could hear their muffled conversation below. Gwenay's irritable tone was intermingled with Chessa's patient replies.