Traitor's Knot by Janny Wurts

Author:Janny Wurts [Wurts, Janny]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781592220823
Publisher: Diamond Books
Published: 2004-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Late Winter 5671

Signatures

Midwinter to spring, when the passes were closed, all items crossing the continent followed the shipping that plied the prosperous, southern sea-routes. As terminus for the silk caravans from Atchaz, whose raw bales were in prime demand, the port of Innish on the coast of Shand became the stewpot for breaking news. Dispatches moved with the commerce of trade. The factors who handled the lading of ships also passed the brisk traffic of state correspondence.

Though Fiark's obtuse network might be the least recognized, his unerring eye for profitable cargoes suggested the unusual depth and diversity of his contacts. Close-mouthed and quiet, his discretion was legend. He met with his hired captains in public and kept the family interests carried out by his sister the carefully guarded exception.

'Did you know,' Feylind groused, 'that they call you "the clam"?' Sunburned and raffish, and wearing a man's jerkin redolent of ship's tar and fish oil, she grinned, then perched herself with flagrant abandon upon the most comfortable brocade chair. 'You owe me, for patience,' she declared without fuss as her brother winced for his cushions. 'I'll buy you two beers, with the fact, I didn't kick any nitpicking customs men off my decks into the harbour.'

'That's because Teive kept your temper in hand,' Fiark denounced, though not without sympathy. Since the Innish port officers had noses like weasels and a rabid aversion to contraband, the Evenstar's logged movements were dealt a devouring scrutiny each time she hove into home port.

Feylind shrugged. 'You'd think the damned vultures would tire of picking for carrion on a clean slate.'

No thanks to her brother, for the obdurate fact that her registry stayed above- board. Her late trials had been no whit less, for that honesty. Long delay, a spoiled cargo, and an unscheduled hold-over to refit storm damage at Southshire had ruffled the hair of the clerks. The custom keeper's grilling had been worse than cantankerous.

Fiark's wry delight stayed undimmed behind the privacy of shuttered windows. 'They didn't much like the fact you switched shipyards?'

'Not!' Feylind snapped. The tapping search for hidden compartments had lasted two nerve-wracking days. 'The old outfitter's peeved that we took business elsewhere. And Southshire's so dazzled by sunwheel banners, I daren't explain that some Innish port rat with a grievance sold us out for a Koriani sigil meant to entrap the Master of Shadow.'

'They wanted Fionn Areth,' Fiark corrected, as always averse to high drama. 'So you swore them to prostration and headaches instead?' His timely snatch saved his stacked papers, as his sister lounged back with intent to plant her sea-booted feet on his desk. 'I know better than to think a few reddened ears might civilize your randy tongue.'

'If oaths could snip bollocks, I'd have gelded the lot,' Feylind agreed with bad humour. She delved into the satchel strapped at her waist. 'So what have you done in redress?'

'Sent an inquiry.' Fiark neatly fielded the catch as a sealed packet was tossed his way, granting discharge on the Evenstar's bill of inspection.

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