that.
Ghort said, "That's right. They got their fanatic asses roasted and
kicked out up there, a couple years ago. That's where Drocker got
himself all crippled."
"Yes. Something about them trying to wipe out the Sonsan Deves."
"You ask me, they were just gonna rob them. But the damned
Unbelievers had the balls to fight back."
"So then the ruling families got their tails all twisted because
that would cost them their clerical class."
"Yep. Ran the Brotherhood out of town. Too late, the way I heard.
The Deves packed up and left."
Hecht knew that story from the inside.
Only Anna Mozilla and a few Deves knew.
"We should be careful," Ghort said. "Till we know who wants to kill
you."
"I plan on that. I'm going to hang around just long enough to steal
enough to set myself up with a commercial farm. So Anna and I can spend
our old age raising grapes and making babies." He was half serious. He
did not expect to return to Dreanger while er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen
remained the power behind Gordimer the Lion, who was the power behind
the Kaif.
That
Lumberer
did not always operate inside the law was
borne out by the skills of her crew. After crossing the bar they turned
north and sailed on into the night, navigating by the light of a
quarter moon. In often treacherous seas. There were a million little
islands out there. More shoals appeared regularly as sea levels fell.
Near as Hecht could tell, more permanent ice lingering in the high
mountain regions meant less water in the rivers feeding into the Mother
Sea.
There were dredges working the channel of the Sawn River, up to Sonsa.
Lumberer
had a shallow draft and, of course, rode in on a flood tide. That was
basic, common sense seamanship, old as the trade itself.
Hecht was surprised by Sonsa's quays. Today's highest high water was
three feet lower than at his last arrival.
He said, "I want out of Sonsa as fast as possible. So we deliver the
courier case and scoot." Though he had no reason to think anyone would
recognize him now.
"I'm with you. This place is so quiet, it's creepy."
The waterfront was unnaturally sedate. Two dozen large ships tied up at
the family quays looked like they had not moved in a long time. The
rigging on some had gone ragged.
"The place is dying," Hecht said. He slung his bag, stepped up to
the quay from
Lumberer's
rail, using a main stay for leverage.
A dozen men and boys surrounded him. Each tried to out-shout the
others. All offered to help carry his possessions, to guide him
wherever he wanted to go, to take him to a willing sister or daughter.
There had been none of this desperation last time Hecht came through.
"This is worse than back home," Ghort murmured. "Except around
where the squatters are. You." Ghort grabbed a little weasel with a
swift, bright smile, maybe eight or nine. "Where we headed, Matt?"
At the moment Piper Hecht was Mathis Schlink from Schonthal and
Ghort was Buck Fantil.
"It's a great name," he had told Hecht aboard
Lumberer.
"I
always wished I had one of them names like Dirk or Steele or Rock.
Pinkus Ghort. My momma ought to be spanked. What the hell kind of name
is Pinkus Ghort?"
"You tell me," Hecht had responded. "You made it up."
"You want to know the sick, sad truth, my friend? I didn't. It
really is the one my momma hung on me. Though nobody never believes me
when I tell them."
Hecht remained firmly established in that class. He was sure that
Pinkus Ghort would be wanted in more than one principality farther
north, under other names.
About the boy, he asked, "What are you doing, Buck?"
"You know your way around this dump? I don't. Besides, the kid
reminds me of me in my better days. What's your handle, Shorty?"
"Pella, Your Honor. Pella Versulius."
Pella's competitors laughed. One advised, "Don't turn your back on
the little turd, Outlander. He'll steal the hair off your ass."
"He's got shorter legs than me. I can run him down and break his
neck."
Hecht caught a flicker of admiration from the urchin. "We
Ghort said, "That's right. They got their fanatic asses roasted and
kicked out up there, a couple years ago. That's where Drocker got
himself all crippled."
"Yes. Something about them trying to wipe out the Sonsan Deves."
"You ask me, they were just gonna rob them. But the damned
Unbelievers had the balls to fight back."
"So then the ruling families got their tails all twisted because
that would cost them their clerical class."
"Yep. Ran the Brotherhood out of town. Too late, the way I heard.
The Deves packed up and left."
Hecht knew that story from the inside.
Only Anna Mozilla and a few Deves knew.
"We should be careful," Ghort said. "Till we know who wants to kill
you."
"I plan on that. I'm going to hang around just long enough to steal
enough to set myself up with a commercial farm. So Anna and I can spend
our old age raising grapes and making babies." He was half serious. He
did not expect to return to Dreanger while er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen
remained the power behind Gordimer the Lion, who was the power behind
the Kaif.
That
Lumberer
did not always operate inside the law was
borne out by the skills of her crew. After crossing the bar they turned
north and sailed on into the night, navigating by the light of a
quarter moon. In often treacherous seas. There were a million little
islands out there. More shoals appeared regularly as sea levels fell.
Near as Hecht could tell, more permanent ice lingering in the high
mountain regions meant less water in the rivers feeding into the Mother
Sea.
There were dredges working the channel of the Sawn River, up to Sonsa.
Lumberer
had a shallow draft and, of course, rode in on a flood tide. That was
basic, common sense seamanship, old as the trade itself.
Hecht was surprised by Sonsa's quays. Today's highest high water was
three feet lower than at his last arrival.
He said, "I want out of Sonsa as fast as possible. So we deliver the
courier case and scoot." Though he had no reason to think anyone would
recognize him now.
"I'm with you. This place is so quiet, it's creepy."
The waterfront was unnaturally sedate. Two dozen large ships tied up at
the family quays looked like they had not moved in a long time. The
rigging on some had gone ragged.
"The place is dying," Hecht said. He slung his bag, stepped up to
the quay from
Lumberer's
rail, using a main stay for leverage.
A dozen men and boys surrounded him. Each tried to out-shout the
others. All offered to help carry his possessions, to guide him
wherever he wanted to go, to take him to a willing sister or daughter.
There had been none of this desperation last time Hecht came through.
"This is worse than back home," Ghort murmured. "Except around
where the squatters are. You." Ghort grabbed a little weasel with a
swift, bright smile, maybe eight or nine. "Where we headed, Matt?"
At the moment Piper Hecht was Mathis Schlink from Schonthal and
Ghort was Buck Fantil.
"It's a great name," he had told Hecht aboard
Lumberer.
"I
always wished I had one of them names like Dirk or Steele or Rock.
Pinkus Ghort. My momma ought to be spanked. What the hell kind of name
is Pinkus Ghort?"
"You tell me," Hecht had responded. "You made it up."
"You want to know the sick, sad truth, my friend? I didn't. It
really is the one my momma hung on me. Though nobody never believes me
when I tell them."
Hecht remained firmly established in that class. He was sure that
Pinkus Ghort would be wanted in more than one principality farther
north, under other names.
About the boy, he asked, "What are you doing, Buck?"
"You know your way around this dump? I don't. Besides, the kid
reminds me of me in my better days. What's your handle, Shorty?"
"Pella, Your Honor. Pella Versulius."
Pella's competitors laughed. One advised, "Don't turn your back on
the little turd, Outlander. He'll steal the hair off your ass."
"He's got shorter legs than me. I can run him down and break his
neck."
Hecht caught a flicker of admiration from the urchin. "We
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