The Bird of the River Read online

  “People like that don’t hide anything from servants,” said Krelan, and snickered. “We might as well be animals. Scandals, infidelities, digestive afflictions—nothing’s too personal for the servants to see. Take my word for it. And he doesn’t have Encilian’s head. Which he would have kept as a trophy, if he’d had Encilian killed for adulterizing. And believe me, the servants would have noticed if some assassin had brought it back for him. Imagine having to dust something like that!”

  Eliss shuddered. “Did they say whether he still had his servant with him?”

  “What? No. I mean, they didn’t mention it.”

  “So . . . in the end, all you’ve learned was that your lord was alive as far up the river as Silver Trout Landing.”

  “That’s about it. That, and that he was still behaving like Encilian.”

  “Then . . . I don’t suppose you’ll be accepting the lord’s job offer.”

  “No.”

  Eliss was surprised at the wave of relief that washed over her. Sternly she told herself not to be an idiot. He’ll go anyway, once the job’s done.

  The deck watch cried a challenge, and then the gangplank creaked and groaned as Captain Glass and Mr. Riveter came back aboard. To Eliss’s surprise, Captain Glass looked around, spotted them, and came forward. He was dressed in his best clothing, a striped tunic big enough to have served as a tent and a jade chain of office. Mr. Riveter was likewise wearing more clothes than Eliss had ever seen on him. He looked stiff and uncomfortable, but Captain Glass was grinning.

  “Spitboy,” he said. “His lordship was impressed by you. Just spent most of an hour trying to buy your services from me.” He looked over his shoulder at Mr. Riveter. “Why don’t you go below, Mr. Riveter? You look like an eel wrapped up in a paper parcel.”

  “Aye, sir.” Gratefully, Mr. Riveter wandered off to the companionway.

  “Yes; his lordship wanted to know all about you, spitboy. I had to be tactful.”

  “Oh, dear.” Krelan seemed to shrink.

  “Told him you weren’t mine to sell. Told him you were under an obligation to the gods. Told him you were working as a galley slavey as penance for something you did.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s as good a reason as any. Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome.” The captain loomed over them both, gigantic against the stars. “That was some neat work you did with the machete, spitboy. Not quite as feeble as you look, are you?”

  “ ‘Terror lends strength to even a paper man,’ ” Krelan quoted.

  “And paper’s stronger than most people think,” said the captain. “Writs of execution, for example. Or contracts for vendetta killings. I wouldn’t want to think somebody might carry out one of those on my boat. But then, I guess if someone had anything against one of my crew, he’d have taken care of business already. So we don’t have anything to worry about, do we, spitboy?”

  “I shouldn’t think so, sir.”

  “Good.” Captain Glass turned his enigmatic grin on Eliss. “How are you, Miss Vigilance? The brother is all right, you know. Doing what boys have to do. And you’re doing what you have to do. The world rolls on. You’ve dried all your tears, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Captain Glass put his head up and sniffed the night air. “Rain coming tomorrow,” he added, before abruptly turning and walking aft.

  Rain did come, after a long breathless night. Eliss woke once in the cabin, gasping for air, and found that she’d kicked off her blanket. After a while Pentra woke and climbed from her bunk, and opened a bladed vent in the cabin’s rear wall. It admitted no light, but abruptly the smell of the river filled the room and the air was a little cooler. Pentra went back to bed. Eliss lay wakeful a long while, listening to the river noises, the night noises, and eventually the grumble of distant thunder. She slept and dreamed of green leviathans coiling in the water, and cloud-gods dropping fire from heaven. Later she dreamed of armies marching across the deck overhead.

  Next morning rain was pouring down, though the summer heat still lay heavy over everything. Eliss had no rain gear; she came timidly on deck and saw everyone working stripped down to near nudity, the men in loincloths, the women in loincloths too with single lengths of cotton cloth bound over their breasts. Making a note to buy herself some cloth when she was paid, Eliss splashed out on deck and was soaked to the skin in seconds. The rain was warm as bathwater.

  A tarpaulin had been stretched over the galley queue, and a couple of planks leaned up on end by the deckhouse to keep rainwater outside from spattering into the porridge cauldron. Krelan, with his thin hair plastered flat on his head as a painted doll’s, stood in a puddle of water as he ladled out porridge into bowls. People huddled together under the tarpaulin, wolfing down their breakfasts, watching the rain. Eliss finished her breakfast quickly and ran for the rigging, clinging tight to the slippery ropes.

  It was terrifying being up on her platform, but exhilarating too. Rain beat down all around her; the sky sat low on the river valley, hiding the mountaintops under a level line of cloud. Eliss leaned back her head and gulped in air. The rain washed her face. She remembered Alder running gleefully through the rain and jumping in puddles, scandalizing anyone who saw him.

  So many times we had to tell him to stop doing things he loved to do. At least now . . . now he can enjoy the rain.

  She pushed back her wet hair and looked down at the deck. Krelan was working hard with a bellows, trying to keep the galley fire from going out. Pentra came up the companionway with a pair of wax tablets under her arm, instead of her usual paper and ink, and dumped the collected rainwater from her sun canopy before taking her place at her drafting station. The musicians had come out of the windmill and conferred briefly before going back inside; now they emerged with tin whistles and struck up a shrill dancing tune.

  Eliss saw children dancing to the music, naked on deck in the rain, screaming with excitement. The women came up with buckets and pails to catch water for hair-washing. Captain Glass came up on deck, nearly naked himself. He stood at the tiller, laughing quietly as rain sluiced down over his face and broad chest and dripped from his beard.

  Mr. Riveter, in nothing but his customary loincloth, walked backward on deck staring up at the vanes of the windmill. They were nearly motionless in the steady rain, until a breeze came up the valley. The vanes began to rotate, flinging out water in all directions. “Topmen!” Mr. Riveter roared. “Set sail! Cablemen, stand by to raise anchor!”

  One of the drummers found a tin pail and began to beat out a staccato rhythm on its bottom, accompanying the whistles. Men raced up along the shrouds and ratlines and loosed the great sail. It fell in heavy rustling folds, dry at first but darkening with the rain, and snapping out taut as the wind caught it. Over on the Dancing Girl, Lord and Lady Chrysoprase’s servants, sweating in oilcloth rain gear, were preparing to cast off. Lord Chrysoprase emerged from the great cabin and took the tiller, as one of his servants hurried to hold an umbrella over him. He nodded curtly at Mr. Riveter and shouted the order to raise anchor. Mr. Riveter’s order echoed back.

  The Dancing Girl slipped out into the current and away downstream. The Bird of the River moved off upstream, as her children danced and the river boiled white with rain.

  The rain continued steadily for three days. Now and again thunder would rumble around the four quarters of the sky, and Eliss learned to catch a rope then and slide down to deck as fast as she could, because of the hazard of lightning. On one occasion the topmen were aloft too when the thunder started, and one of them grabbed her around the waist and slid down a rope with her.

  “Sorry,” he said as soon as their feet touched the deck. He was young, and while not handsome he wore a gold ring set with a fire opal in one ear. “The lightning was coming fast, is all. And I’ve always wanted to rescue a princess from a tower,” he added, grinning foolishly.

  “I’m no princess,” said Eliss, pulling her tunic down.

  “Sure y
ou are. You’re the daughter of Beautiful Falena, after all,” he said, and then ran for cover as the lightning flashed blue-white over their heads. Eliss barely noticed it, staring after him. She thought, Am I the only one who really remembers my mother?

  The Ballad of Falena was everywhere now. They anchored for a night at Red House Landing, and an elderly beggar with a concertina was playing the song in the inn courtyard.

  “Care to go ashore with me for dinner?” Krelan gave her a meaningful look as she approached the galley queue that night.

  “What, to the Red House?”

  “Why not? Just wait until I’m done serving everybody and we’ll go over together.”

  “All right.” Eliss took her bowl back to the cabin and put on her clean tunic. After a moment’s hesitation she took out the shawl Wolkin had bought her and wrapped it around her shoulders. The girl who looked back at her in the polished copper mirror looked very grown-up, very much a girl who was going out to dinner with a boyfriend. And Alder would have scowled and sulked at being left behind, and Eliss would have felt guilty for leaving him.

  But I have to grow up sometime, Eliss thought. It wasn’t fair that I had to be somebody’s mother and stay a little girl too. She was wondering whether she ought to comb her hair when Krelan came hurrying down the companionway.

  “Oh, good, you haven’t locked the door. Just let me slip inside and change.” He stopped and stared at her before slipping inside the cabin. “You do look nice. But then, you generally do,” he added from inside, a little muffled.

  “It’s just the shawl,” said Eliss, glad he couldn’t see her blushing. “It was expensive.”

  “Ha! No, my dear; money couldn’t buy your looks.”

  “You’re just flattering. I’m nothing special.”

  “No, indeed.” Krelan’s voice was serious. “I mean, I would flatter you, if I needed something, because don’t all men? But in your case there’s no need to make anything up. That’s the big difference. That and the fact that you’ve got brains.” He emerged from the cabin, pulling on his hood. “There! Do I look like some harmless little twit?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Good!” Krelan took her arm and they walked back up the companionway.

  All the other Red Houses Eliss had ever been in had been on caravan routes, crowded with travelers bedding down for the night on the floor. This one was nearly deserted, and eerily silent. The old man with his concertina had spread out his blanket in a far corner of the hall and his snores were already echoing from the high rafters, but other than that no one seemed to be spending the night there. There weren’t even many diners, other than a couple of parties who had come up from the boat landing.

  “I’ve never had a seat by the firepit before,” said Eliss, looking around. She adjusted a fold of her shawl self-consciously. Her family had always been over there in the shadows, making up beds on the floor with people like the old musician, and young Eliss had looked over in awe at the well-dressed diners at the best tables.

  “No caravan parties filling the place up,” said Krelan. “This high up the river, they’re only going to get barge crews or pleasure-boats, and if you can afford a pleasure-boat, why would you bother eating at a Red House?”

  “What’s wrong with Red Houses?” To Eliss they had always seemed elegant places, warm havens at the end of a long cold day of travel, a luxury only to be indulged in when whoever Falena had been currently with could afford it. Krelan arched an eyebrow.

  “The food’s a little basic,” he said.

  But their dinners, when brought, were well prepared. “Damn,” remarked Krelan in surprise, and said nothing further until his plate was empty.

  “See?” Feeling gleefully adult and sophisticated, Eliss speared the last fried dumpling on the end of her knife.

  “I suppose if you depend on the barge crews for your custom, you’d better serve good food.” Krelan pushed his dish away and leaned back in his chair. He gazed around the room. “And, to be honest, I’d never eaten in one of these before. Well, well. That’s the house security, unless I miss my guess.”

  Eliss followed his gaze. Sitting alone in the far corner of the room was a big man, soberly dressed and not noteworthy in any respect. He had a tablet open in front of him and seemed absorbed in making notes, but as Eliss stared at him he looked up and met her eyes. She looked away, abashed. Krelan got to his feet.

  “I think I know you, don’t I?” he said lightly, advancing on the big man’s table, so Eliss got up and followed. “I think I met you at my uncle’s house.”

  “I think you did,” the man replied. Eliss saw now that the tablet contained a word puzzle, half-completed. Krelan sat down and placed his hands on the table in a curious way: both index fingers out straight, the other fingers folded under. He only kept them that way a moment, but the man noticed, and made the same gesture back. He looked inquiringly at Eliss.

  “A secure friend,” said Krelan.

  “Very well, then. You’re a little young.”

  “Born into the work, I’m afraid. Took the oath when I was eight.”

  “Ah.” The man looked at Krelan more closely. “Yes. I might know your name. What can I do for you, brother?”

  “You can tell me how long you’ve worked here.”

  “Five years.”

  “Good. And you’re the only house man?”

  “I am.”

  Krelan reached into his hood and brought out the little portrait of Lord Encilian. He slid it across the tabletop toward the other man. “Seen him? It would have been a little after the Winter Solstice.”

  “Hm!” The man tapped the portrait with his fingertip, just over the serpent armlet. “Well, I know who he is. Or was. But he never came in this place, brother. Not really the sort of stop his sort would make, is it?”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. Anyway, I heard he died.” The man surveyed Krelan. “You don’t mean they sent a kid like you to do anything about it?”

  “They did, in fact.”

  The man shrugged. “No offense. But no, as far as I know he never even moored at the landing. Red Houses are too, what’s the word? Déclassé, I suppose, for one of them, and there’s nothing else here.”

  “No night life, eh?”

  The man chuckled and jerked his thumb at the concertina player. “Old Leadbrick’s just about it. Nothing much happens here except a fight now and then when barge crews come in to drink.”

  “No bandits attacking?” Eliss asked. The man looked at her in surprise.

  “No. What would they steal? The souvenir shop’s full of junk. The Housekeeper barely breaks even. It’s been bad this summer, though, hasn’t it, downriver?” He began to look thoughtful. “Bluestone, last I heard. And, what’s the gold place? Synpelene.”

  Krelan nodded. “Asking you as a brother, then: anything you can say that might give me a clue?”

  “What, about who did it?” The man rubbed his chin, studying the portrait. “Not really. I’d say the chances are good it happened up in Karkateen. Plenty of ways a boy like that might run into trouble, up there.”

  “That’s what I’ve been afraid of.”

  “Don’t envy you your job, brother.”

  “Well. For your trouble.” Krelan produced a gold crown from nowhere and slid it across the table to the man, reclaiming the portrait in the process. The man nodded and deftly made the coin vanish.

  “Anytime.”

  As they walked back down to the landing, Eliss asked: “Why is Karkateen a dangerous place?”

  “You’ve never been?”

  “No. No jobs for a diver there. We almost went once. A man we were living with was offered a job there, but he left Mama and went by himself in the end.” At that moment it came home to Eliss: that would never happen again. No more desertions. She had lost everyone, but at least she was free. She didn’t have to become the sort of woman who clung desperately to someone else for salvation. Alder was free too. . . . No w
onder he had wanted to run away. “What’s it like in Karkateen?”

  “It’s a wild city. It’s where the river ends. Or begins, I suppose. There’s a lot of what my grandfather used to call lottery rich up there, and you should have heard the disdain with which he pronounced those words! Believe me, servants know who deserves money and who doesn’t. In this case it comes from emerald mines. So there are a lot of mansions owned by people who were clever enough to know what to do with the money they made from emeralds, and a lot of, er, retail establishments frequented by people who aren’t clever enough to know what to do with the money they made from emeralds. And then there are the people who don’t find any emeralds.”

  “And we’re going there?”

  “Of course we are. That’s where the Bird makes her turn and goes back downriver toward the coast. Would you mind very much if I ask you something, Eliss?”

  “No.”

  “Why did you ask our friend whether there’d been any attacks by bandits?”

  “Well . . .” Eliss shrugged. “There have been a lot of them, haven’t there?”

  “There have been, yes.” Krelan fell silent.

  Next morning they discovered Mr. Pitspike had gone ashore to visit his son, who happened to be the cook at the Red House, and he had yet to return by the appointed time of sailing, though the Housekeeper thoughtfully sent a message to say he was merely dead drunk and not dead. As a consequence Captain Glass postponed their departure a day, and so the crew seized the opportunity to do laundry. The Bird of the River was festooned with drying clothes in short order. Eliss was sitting by the rail, trying to begin a novel Pentra had loaned her, when she looked up through shirts fluttering in the breeze and saw the group of Yendri making their way along the riverbank.

  There were three of them. One was shorter than the other two. Eliss set the book down and stood, feeling her heart pound.

  Three Yendri, and she knew them all. The handsome one, and wasn’t it odd how she now could tell them apart enough to see distinctions like that, the handsome one had danced with Pentra. The one in the white robe was Mr. Moss. Alder was walking between them, still clutching his bag. He had been crying and looked sullen.