02 The Swordsmans Oath by Mckenna Juliet E

Author:Mckenna, Juliet E [E, Mckenna, Juliet]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T21:07:18.071000+00:00

Guinalle stirred in the bunk, a vague hand reaching for her forehead. Temar looked at her for a long moment, then, not trusting himself to speak, turned on his heel and slammed out of the cabin. A trading islet in the domain of Sazac Joa, Aldabreshin Archipelago, 20th of For-Summer I stepped out of the skiff on to the sand, hauling my baggage out without any hand raised to help me. "My thanks," I said curtly, but no one responded and I walked away without a backward glance. It was hard to feel angry with the Aldabreshi though, despite their lack of courtesy. However they sent their messages with their flags and beacons, word of Kaeska's fate had spread through the Archipelago like fire through dry brush and Shek Kul's token, while securing me passage on whatever vessel I wanted, also clearly identified me as the mainlander who'd started the whole business. It was no real surprise that wherever I went I found myself about as welcome as someone who's lost their nose and half their fingers to creeping scab. I walked slowly along the beach, looking at the signal pennants flying at each masthead, trying find the yellow and crimson pattern the last galley-master had grudgingly shown me, identifying the next domain I needed to cross on this painfully slow progress up the Archipelago. I sighed. The sun was sinking behind a rocky island to the west and I didn't fancy another night sleeping fitfully in a hollow of sand, hoping no one would rob or knife me before I woke. "You're a long way from home, Tormalin man." This unexpected greeting was sufficiently friendly that I didn't reach instantly for my sword. In any case, given my recent experiences, I was starting to feel rather wary of using that blade for anything short of outright assault by a full detachment of Elietimm. I turned to see a short, coppery-skinned man in a shabby tunic grinning at me. He was beardless and bald as an egg, pate gleaming in the afternoon sun, but with the right clothes and some hair he could have stepped off any dock anywhere along the coast of the Gulf of Lescar. There was a distinctly Lescari touch to his mongrel Tormalin as well. "I could say the same of you, couldn't I?" I watched his dark eyes to judge the sincerity of his reply. "Perhaps but I don't really have a home these days, not beyond my ship, anyway. That's her, the Amigal!" He waved a proud arm at one of the smaller vessels anchored in the narrow strait. Despite the Aldabreshin rigging and unfamiliar arrangement of mast and sail, it looked about the same size as the boats that ply the rivers and coasts on the Gulf coast of Tormalin, carrying a good weight of cargo but only needing a couple of men to manage it. That was interesting in itself, given the preponderance of massive galleys all around us, but more intriguing still was the array of white-bordered pennants strung down a long line from the top of the mast.

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