When Someone Needs You, part two

[pensnest]

"They're sending us away."

"What? When? As soon as we—"

"No. Now. Before."

"Before we deal with Loupe?" Lance was astounded. He must have misunderstood. "That can't be right. We—"

"No. It's true. Three hours discussing the plans, and three minutes for everyone to move me off the quest." Chris smashed his hand furiously into the post between stalls, and Horse shuffled uneasily on the rustling straw.

"But why? Why? It doesn't make sense. I mean, we found Erryn. He trusts us, you especially."

Chrisfer cursed until he ran out of breath. "They say it's too personal. They say... They say I'd be too determined to see him dead."

Lancyn was about to remonstrate, but paused. Chris was certainly determined to deal with Loupe... was that so bad? It was unarguable that Loupe was slated for death: to do as he had done, to exploit these children and subvert order and lawful business in the town—he'd be hanged, no question. There was Erryn's evidence... and nothing else, he realised unwillingly. Not yet. Lancyn was perfectly convinced of Erryn's honesty, but was it grounds enough to kill a man who had not been Examined?

It had been personal for him, he thought, killing that—those two men, back in the spring. Lancyn still remembered the rage he'd felt, seeing Chris fettered and gagged in that wet clearing. Had he abandoned justice in favour of revenge? Had he let himself kill, because they had angered him?

No. No, it had not been wrong, or a mistake. It had been shockingly painful, to kill someone, he'd been shaky for a while, and downright scared the next time he had a sword in his hand, but all his reactions had never included doubt. It had been horrible, but it had been the right thing to do. Even if they'd never taken Chrisfer, those ferals had terrorised the area and committed many crimes.

Which Loupe had also done, he thought. But the level of proof was... not the same.

"How do they plan to raid Loupe's territory, without us?" he asked, prosaically.

"Oh, they don't plan that." Chris voice was tight with anger. "They'll take me along to guard the kid."

"They're never taking him into the middle of a raid!"

"He's the only one who knows the way. And he can't read a map, so he'll have to come with us. No, he'll have to come with me, because you'll be downriver."

"What?"

Chris eyed him malevolently. "Thought you wouldn't like that," he observed. "I need you to get us passage on a boat leaving Vallamouth tomorrow evening."

"But—but—"

"I'm sorry, Lans. But it has to be done, and I think the kid's better with me. He'll have to identify Loupe, and those others, Bruvin and... whoever. Everything he told us, everything in the question sessions, is all written down, and even Regget couldn't think of anything more to ask. They won't need Erryn here in person, so we're going to get him out of Vallacarfel and take him north with us. These raids hardly ever make a clean sweep, there'll be someone who stays loose."

Lancyn nodded reluctantly. "And it's not as though these ferals will realise Erryn's already given his evidence."

Chris laughed, without humour. "They'd probably kill him anyway, as a lesson. I won't risk him here when he's out in the open. As soon as his job is done, we'll be on the way downriver and nobody is going to get to him."

"It's more important, Chris. It's more important to keep Erryn safe than to kill Loupe yourself."

His knight stared at him, eyes like obsidian. Then he sighed, and softened. "I know. I know. I just... When I think what that scum did to our boy..."

* * *

Lancyn didn't mean to enjoy himself, but he couldn't altogether help it. Here he was, with Brown and a spare horse (for Erryn to ride, eventually, but at present making itself useful carrying Chrisfer's belongings and the boy's meagre pack), on a barge heading downriver towards Vallamouth Port, and it was a warm, sunny day with bright blue sky and sunlight on the water and nothing to do but enjoy the ride and fret about Chrisfer and Erryn.

He had no quarrel with Chris's feelings about Erryn: the boy was a real find. When Chris had explained to him that he would be needed to show the Elite raid the way to Loupe's hideout, he had gone white, so frightened he could hardly speak, yet he'd agreed to the risk, to trust them and do what they needed. He'd be a good squire.

Of course, when Erryn had seen how they proposed to disguise him, he'd been outraged and wonderfully vocal. Lancyn couldn't blame him, but it had been a real struggle not to smile at the sight of Erryn glaring at them from under the heavy fringe of his beribboned brown wig, and stamping resentfully in the beaded cornflower-blue dress... He was too young to be obviously masculine, yet despite his smooth cheeks and the pretty clothes, he still looked to Lancyn's amused eyes very much the boy. But no doubt the disguise would hold. When the kid was riding demurely on a pony with a couple of Elite knights as escort, he'd pass for a rich man's daughter riding through town.

Lancyn trusted Chrisfer to take care of the kid and bring him safe to Vallamouth docks. He did. And he knew that Chrisfer was perfectly able to take care of himself, too, and didn't need his squire along, even if his squire had killed three men, now, and was honestly useful in a fight. But he fretted. And it would be hours yet before he could expect to see them.

The uneventful trip downriver did nothing to take his mind off what would be happening back in Vallacarfel, but once he was disembarked, the task at hand occupied his mind. A seaport was something new, and exciting, with the briny scent in the air, tall masts spiking above rooftops, and everywhere tanned men and women with their hair thonged and twisted into pigtails. He led Brown and the spare animal carefully from their barge's dock towards the masts, located the Harbour Master without difficulty, and obtained a list of the ships which would be sailing on the evening's tide.

Bribing a pair of curious children to mind his horses, Lancyn made his way along the dock, and soon determined which of the ships would be best for his purpose. There were so many, moored along the T-shaped ends of jutting piers: other ships were drawn up along the piers, but apparently, the ones due to depart on the evening tide were positioned at the ends. Lancyn made enquiries, and determined that there were two headed for the far North, but he didn't like the look of the Windcheater's crew, and instead walked along to the next pier to inspect his second option. And wished he knew a great deal more about ships.

Or, really, anything at all.

There was a ramp connecting ship and pier, with sailors making their way on board with a variety of supplies, including a couple of mules laden with barrels. Lancyn kept out of the way and observed the activity, liking the orderliness and the cheerful shouts. Over to his left, at the far end of the T-bar, a tall, solid man was carefully repainting the ship's name in gold and yellow. Lancyn liked that. It showed pride, he thought, and attention to detail.

He called out to the next man who strode towards him along the pier, asked whether the captain would take passengers, and gave his name. The sailor nodded helpfully, trotted over the ramp, and a moment later Lancyn was being hailed. He looked up. The captain—he supposed—was leaning over the railing on the upper deck. A blond head, a jewel in the ear which flashed in the sunlight, friendly, shrewd blue eyes inspecting him, a wide grin, and he was invited to come aboard to discuss terms.

The deal was soon made, and at a very fair price: passage for three, and three horses, to the port of Beccanskey, only a day's ride from Chrisfer's family home. Lancyn left word for Chrisfer at the Harbour Master's office, retrieved Brown and the spare horse, saw them settled in the hold, inspected the small cabin he, Chris and Erryn would occupy, then went back on deck to watch the ship's business.

The captain's blue eyes had not lied: Bryn was as friendly as he had seemed, and apparently delighted to have a passenger who had never been to sea before. Lancyn was fascinated by the ship, and asked a great many questions. Bryn took him on a tour of inspection, bouncing happily on his toes and pouring out information in an enthusiastic flood as they looked at the cargo, stores, sailors' quarters... it was like a floating town, no, like a floating Tower, although Towers were not as a rule equipped for navigation.

"Nothing better than standing in the mast-cup watching the Star eat up the waves as she gets the wind in her sails. You want to climb up?"

"Up there?" Lancyn asked eagerly, tipping his head back to stare at the tiny nest-like lump high on the main mast. Bryn, explaining that his crew knew perfectly well what they were doing and really, he was only in the way at a time like this, showed Lancyn the proper technique for ascending the mast. They swung themselves into the "mast-cup", and Lancyn gazed around, grinning with excitement. The view was magnificent, the sailors below thumb-sized as they scurried about their tasks. He could see distant sails, out beyond the harbour's sheltering promontories, and upriver, a steady procession of barges heading to and from the seaport.

"What did you say?"

"Sorry!" Lancyn apologised. "I was thinking aloud. Wondering if my knight is on one of those barges."

"I hope so," Bryn told him. "We have three hours in hand, but if your companions don't arrive in time to catch the tide, we'll sail without them."

"I'm glad I didn't unpack," Lancyn remarked. "I can't travel with you if they don't get here. But they will." They must.

* * *

They did. It was surprisingly undramatic. Lancyn was still being shown 'the ropes'—literally, since there was more rope on this ship than he'd ever seen in his life—when the unmistakable sound of hooves thudded along the pier. There was Erryn, still in his girl-guise, perched wide-eyed on Horse's back, and Chrisfer walking alongside, with his hair tangling in the breeze from the sea. Lancyn greeted them placidly, but his heart rejoiced as he presented them to Bryn, who grasped Chrisfer's hand in greeting, and looked at girl-Erryn with surprise. Then there was a hail from the pier, and Bryn excused himself to inspect the finished paintwork.

"I'll tell you details later," Chris promised, as Lancyn closed the cabin door. "Kid here's worn out, it's been quite a day. We had every knight, every battle-trained dian, every specialist we could get hold of from a thirty-mile radius, and we caught the ringleaders and a whole schoolful of children. All that Erryn knew of, but no doubt there'll be a few villains heading out of town in a hurry tonight."

"Not on this ship," Lancyn assured him. "Bryn told me they had a full crew and wouldn't be taking on any more passengers, with the three of us on board."

"When do we leave?"

"An hour before sunset. There's time to go ashore and eat, if you want to do that, as soon as I've settled Horse."

"Not much point," said Chrisfer, gloomily. "Besides, I don't want Erryn seen anywhere he doesn't have to be. Not even in disguise. Bring something for him to eat here."

"Can't I go on deck?" Erryn asked, looking disappointed.

"Best not, kid. I'm sorry."

"When we're at sea, then?"

"I don't know." Chrisfer looked worried. "I don't want you to be traced. It may be best if you stay out of sight. Or keep your disguise." Erryn groaned.

"The captain is a good man, I'm sure of it," Lancyn said.

"I dare say, but can you vouch for each and every member of the crew?" Chrisfer snapped. "I'm not saying no, Erryn, just that, well, we should wait. Meanwhile, we need to get this place organised while Lans checks on Horse." He took Lancyn aside. "I'm staying with the kid. If there's anything to be done..."

"I'll do it."

"I know."

"Chris? I'm glad to see you."

"Sap."

Lancyn rolled his eyes and went back on deck.

* * *

"I meant to ask earlier, only I was distracted," Bryn greeted him, "will you and your knight join me for the evening meal? From tomorrow, we'll eat at the common table, but I have my meal in my cabin on the day we set sail. It gives the crew the chance to tell one another things they don't want me to hear. I'd appreciate the company."

"That's very kind. I'm sure Ser Chrisfer will be pleased to join you, as will I. Our, er, our young companion has already..."

"She won't mind being left alone in the cabin, I suppose, not at that age," Bryn commented. "When you said 'a child', I must admit I assumed a little one."

"I didn't mean to mislead—"

"No, no, it was my own fault. I hear 'child', I think 'baby'." He grinned. "My wife is expecting, you see. Excuse me, we must make ready to leave now. If you wish to watch, stay right here and you won't be in the way." And he was off, bounding up to the high platform and shouting incomprehensible commands.

Lancyn went back to the cabin, where he found Chrisfer tucking blankets over a slumbering boy. News that they were about to leave Vallamouth brought a wry smile to Chris's face, but he declined the offer of supper with the captain, and said to give his apologies, he would stay with Erryn. He was not hungry anyway. Nor did he particularly wish to observe the ship's departure.

But Lancyn did, so, with a mental shrug at his knight's unexpected lack of spirit, he went back on deck, to watch intently as the ship was made ready and left the harbour, and try to understand the interactions of crew and ropes and canvas, which looked chaotic but must in truth be ordered. It was not until they were well clear, with the masts and rooftops of Vallamouth shrinking into the setting sun, that Bryn turned to him, his elegantly chiselled face smiling so broadly that his eyes almost disappeared, and congratulated him.

"Your first time at sea. What do you think?"

Lance grinned back. "I like it very much."

"It's a fine life. The best life there is. You'll see." Bryn looked utterly content. "Should be a good run, at this time of year. We'll travel east for a while and pick up the wind from the south after we round Smoke Island. We'll eat after sunset."

* * *

The sky was star-lit, with a sliver of moon, by the time Lancyn went back to the cabin. The small hanging lamp, its tiny flame shielded by rather sooty glass, cast a dim orange glow, but the darkness was only the second thing he noticed. First was the stench. Third, the groaning.

Chrisfer was lying curled on the low bunk in his clothes, looking utterly miserable. The cabin bucket was beside him, on the floor, and he leaned over to retch even as Lancyn gaped in astonished dismay.

"Chris!" Lancyn hissed, mindful of the sleeping Erryn. "What's wrong? Are you wounded? You didn't tell me you were hurt!"

"Not wounded," Chris gasped. "Sick."

"I can see that."

"Wasn't supposed to be awake for this. Urgh. Voyage. Dropped the bottle. And the kid drank mine instead of his own. Sleeping like the dead. Oh, grief..." He retched again. He didn't seem to have anything left to throw up except his own innards, but made a mighty effort to get rid of those, then mopped himself with a washing cloth and lay back, panting, on the bunk. Lancyn tried unsuccessfully not to breathe. The smell in the cabin was vile.

"Bottle," he stated, now recognising the sickly element in the air. "Poppy syrup? To make you sleep?"

"Been to sea before. 'S awful."

"And Erryn took it." Lancyn put his hand to the sleeping boy's throat, found a firm, steady pulse, and was relieved. "Come on. You can't stay here."

"Don't make me move!"

"You want to lie here in this stink?"

"Take the bucket."

"I intend to. And you. You'll be better in the fresh air."

"Yeah, where I can see everything going up and down. Urgh. Ohhhh..."

"It's dark out there, you idiot. Come on." Lancyn hauled Chrisfer to his feet, thrust the washing cloth into his flaccid hands, jammed his travelling cloak over his shoulders and pushed him through the doorway. Taking a deep breath, he plunged back into the cabin for his own cloak and the bucket of vomit. He prodded Chris, staggering, up the steps and onto the main deck, and lent him against the steps to the upper platform while he hastened to the side to empty the bucket. A sailor, white teeth wide in the starlight, relieved him of the noisome burden; Lancyn went back to Chris and more or less dragged him to the front—bow? prow? he couldn't remember—of the ship.

"Sod. Sadist," Chris muttered through clenched teeth. "I won't forget this."

"Oh, stop complaining. You're not dying."

"Hah. I can only wish. Ooohhhhh... If I throw up, it's going over your knees."

"Charming. Come on, now, take a deep breath. Isn't that better?"

Chris grunted and was silent. Lancyn enjoyed the feel of the ship's motion beneath his feet, the clucking of water under the boat, and the bright clarity of stars overhead. He could perfectly understand why Bryn loved this life.

"Is everything all right?" A tall, sturdily-built sailor had approached silently.

"My friend is seasick," Lancyn explained. The sailor nodded, and padded away, returning a few moments later with a water bottle.

"He should drink."

"Thank you," said Lancyn. Chrisfer had not turned round, and Lancyn could read the mortification in the rigid lines of his knight's back.

"You need anything, call me. Name's Col."

Col melted tactfully back to the rear of the ship.

After a short pause, Chris reached for the water bottle, rinsed his mouth and spat over the side, then took a cautious drink.

"They seem to be good people," Lancyn remarked. "And they don't come south to Vallamouth more than four or five times a year. Mostly they go east, to the Grand Archipelago. Their home port is Stoyhaven." Bryn had been cheerfully informative over dinner, so patently honest that Lancyn had felt quite uncomfortable at the thought of deceiving him over Erryn. "I think we can let Erryn out, when he wakes up."

"If he feels like I do when he wakes, he'll have to come up on deck."

"You are feeling better, then?"

"Yeah. The, uh, fresh air helps. A lot."

"You'd best plan on staying here for the whole voyage, then. And Erryn too. He'll be pleased, he seemed interested in the ship."

"Yes. Babbled about being on a ship when he was small, as we came downriver." Chris paused. "He did so well today, I was proud. Led us straight there, warned us about the lookouts so we could have someone take them off the roof, kept out of the way like I told him to when the chaos broke out, and identified Loupe and his henchmen without a quiver. Poor kid started shaking like a baby's rattle once I got him out of there."

"He's a brave boy."

"Yeah. He deserves better than—well, any kid would. My mother will spoil him, feed him up a bit. He's too skinny. And my sisters will love him, I'm sure."

Lancyn thought about this. "We're taking him to live with your family." Of course.

"It's handy, having to go north for Katya's wedding, but I'd have thought of it anyway. Kid needs a proper mother." There was steel in his tone. Understandably.

Perhaps Chris was right, Lancyn mused. Erryn deserved a chance to be carefree for a while. But he'd mention to Bevelyn his idea of setting the boy to Tower training, in a few months, maybe.

"And you'll be glad to see my family again, won't you?" Chrisfer's voice broke in, startling Lancyn out of his train of thought. Yes, he said, he would be glad to see them again. Particularly Talia. He thought they might manage a little mischief together.

Chris humphed, and pointed out that Emmy would be a more suitable companion than the brat. He was definitely feeling better.

After about an hour, Chrisfer said he was getting cold and thought he might like to go to bed now, but as soon as he opened the cabin door he turned tail and bolted back up on deck with his hand to his mouth. Lancyn inspected their boy, propped the cabin door ajar to let the sickly smell out, and followed.

"Think I'll stay up here," Chris mumbled. "Feel queasy when I go down there." He arranged himself on the deck, but very quickly sat up again, groaning. "Don't think I want to lie down. The motion..." He stood, grasping the rail, and breathed deeply.

Lancyn moved to stand beside him. "Tell me about the raid," he requested. It should take Chris's mind off his seasickness. The ploy worked: Chris gave him every detail, with a great deal of bad language whenever he addressed the subject of Loupe. Lancyn sympathised with Chrisfer's frustration at not getting the chance to 'deal with' Loupe, but suggested mildly that hanging would be reasonable compensation for his crimes. Chris was also angry and distressed by the other children in Loupe's gang: some had cowered in terror, and been easy to manage, but not a few had fought like wildcats and shown every indication that this feral life was exactly what they wanted. It was a nasty mess.

"Perhaps we've not done so badly, being sent away," Lancyn reflected. The Elite at the Tower had a difficult time ahead of them.

Chris was silent for a long time. At last he shivered visibly and pulled his cloak tighter.

"Want to try your bunk again?"

Chris shook his head. "Wish I were Horse. Could sleep on my feet," he muttered. "Are the horses all right?"

"They're fine." Lancyn moved to stand behind his knight, pressed against Chrisfer's back, and furled his own cloak around them both. "That better?"

"You're supposed to be the one who feels the cold."

"I haven't been vomiting," Lancyn pointed out, hugging gently. "This is why you didn't want to eat, isn't it? The seasickness."

"I went to sea once before," Chris admitted. "Thought I was going to die. That's why I got the poppy syrup. Much good it did me."

"You know, when I was a boy, I used to dream of this," Lancyn murmured. "Going to sea, travelling beyond the horizon. Adventures. I wanted to be an explorer. To do something... amazing."

Chris was very quiet, and almost still enough to be asleep on his feet. Eventually he spoke. "Was that what you intended to do, when you'd finished your contract with Perel? If I hadn't come along and dragged you off with me?"

"If you hadn't come along, I'd be dead now, or indentured for life."

"Yes... but I didn't have to take you away, I mean, you could have had the life you dreamed of."

"And you called me a sap. Idiot," said Lancyn, fondly. "Spreading justice and getting into trouble, you promised me, don't you think that's enough of an adventure? Personally, I'd say it's working out well." He groped for Chris's right hand. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"I would," Chris grumbled. "Dry land, for one thing."

There was a gentle cough. Lancyn turned his head, to see the tall sailor, Col, looking at the pair of them with only the hint of a smile on his face.

"If you want to sleep on deck," Col said, and Lancyn saw that he was holding a large blanket over one arm, "you can sit against the cabinhead. Travellers with sensitive stomachs do better upright." He showed them where to settle, handed over a solitary cushion, and wished them a comfortable night.

Lancyn propped himself against the cabin's wall and took possession of the cushion; after some demurrals and readjustments, they were neatly tessellated together, Chris sitting between Lancyn's legs and resting back against his chest. With cloaks wrapped around them from behind, and the blanket spread over the front, it was warm and adequately comfortable.

* * *

Lancyn woke as the first fingers of dawn streaked across the sky. His back was a little stiff, and his butt completely without sensation, but the warm lump of Chrisfer was still heavily asleep against him, his hair silken against Lancyn's cheek. Altogether, he'd had worse nights.

Col loomed, crouched beside them, and offered a steaming beaker. Lancyn sipped at it gratefully, careful not to disturb Chris.

"The day crew will be up soon," Col murmured. "Your friend may want to wake before he has too many witnesses."

"How long?"

"Half an hour."

Lancyn reckoned he could manage another twenty minutes or so. "I'll let him sleep a few minutes, then. He had—yesterday was—he needs it."

"I know you brought a secret with you." Col turned away, politely not asking for details. "It'll be safe on this ship, whatever it is. Bryn's had this crew a long time."

"He seems a good man."

Col's smile lit his face like sunshine. "He is that."

"Our secret," said Lancyn, deciding to make a start, "is... the child we brought aboard yesterday—is a boy. We're taking him out of reach of any villains in Vallacarfel who might—there was a man, well, several men, exploiting children, using them to thieve. Elite broke them, yesterday. And the boy has nowhere else to go." His jaw clenched. "His mother sold him."

Col nodded. "It happens."

"You've heard of this before?"

Col shrugged, looking suddenly old. "It happens," he repeated, getting to his feet. "I need to check the compass." And he was gone, leaving Lancyn feeling vaguely puzzled. There had been something... but no, it was gone.

* * *

Lancyn went down to the cabin to see if Erryn was awake. He'd left Chrisfer being cajoled into drinking a tisane—a tisane! hee!—by Col, who, it appeared, was in charge of the ship overnight and not the ordinary sailor Lancyn had assumed. The boy was still fast asleep, his cares smoothed and a tiny smile on his lips. It was good to see Erryn smile, even if he was unconscious.

Happily, the smell was more or less dispersed. Lancyn begged a mop and bucket from one of the crew to wash away the sticky remnants of spilt syrup, then headed up on deck to partake of a hearty breakfast with the day crew before they assumed their duties. He was pleased to see Chris nibbling cautiously at a slice of bread.

Chris stayed on deck. Despite the visible waves, he was happier in the fresh air, staring at the horizon. He was subdued, of course, but managed a conversation with Bryn—concerning Erryn, presumably.

Meanwhile Lancyn enjoyed himself enormously, talking to all the sailors and absorbing instructions on the art of sailing. He spent a considerable time in the mast-cup, staring into far horizons and wondering about the foreign lands beyond. He learnt to splice rope, and to read the compass. He even learnt to swim—Smoke Island, it turned out, was active, and sent hot rock into the sea, so that the water was warm in its vicinity. So he stripped off his clothes and descended the nets with everybody else, and with help from the more enthusiastic swimmers, soon managed to paddle about independent of the rope that was set out as a safety line.

He was quite glad to get back on board. Apparently sailors had a different scale for these things, as the water did not answer Lancyn's idea of 'warm' at all. He had also swallowed rather a lot of it.

* * *

After a hearty supper, Lancyn sat up for a while listening to Bryn and Col telling tall tales of the voyages they'd made, but he soon found himself yawning and went below. Chrisfer had been offered extra blankets tonight, and was bundled up on deck; Erryn was still fast asleep. Lancyn was sorry the kid had missed out on the swimming, but there'd be fun aplenty once they reached Bevelyn's home.

He fell onto the bunk and was asleep in seconds.