Traveler, page 1
Crystals of Memory: Book Three
Traveler
P.S. Power
Orange Cat Publishing
Copyright 2020
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Traveler (Crystals of Memory, #3)
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter twenty
Chapter twenty-one
Chapter twenty-two
Chapter twenty-three
Chapter twenty-four
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter twenty-six
Chapter twenty-seven
Chapter twenty-eight
Chapter twenty-nine
Chapter thirty
Chapter thirty-one
Chapter thirty-two
Chapter thirty-three
Chapter thirty-four
Part One: The Journey
Chapter one
Anders felt a wash of pure wonder come over him as he looked out at the ship he was to board. It was a great thing, large and commanding, created of wood, with loose sails made of sturdy canvas, tied down with tan ropes to the oak of a cross piece. The ship, naturally, wasn’t the only thing that caught his attention that day, however.
The dock itself was, clearly, a true marvel. It was constructed of heavy timbers, covered with something like pine pitch, instead of tar. At least it had a clear sheen to it, instead of smelling foul and being dark. The ocean itself actually caused his stomach to tighten for a moment, as he looked at it. Rather, that was the response of the old man who lived inside of his mind with him. Farad Ibn Istel. The historian had read, and even memorized, great ancient tomes about sailing, and of course, descriptions of the salty water in front of him. The scope of it was just massive, compared to what he’d prepared himself for. In his entire long life, the first one, he had never seen such a thing at all. A few large ponds and the streams that had been near his home, but that was all as far as water had gone.
Anders, the nearly thirteen-year-old boy, thought it was pretty. Impressive, but nothing that would cause him to quail in front of it. The dock stunk, of fish and dead things, but he was used to things not being scented like the inside of King Matheus’s castle. True, he’d lived there most of his life, but he’d also been to the front of the war. Not once, but twice already. Those trips had been filled with the scents of men dying and killing. A horror that had rarely made it into the histories.
Farad agreed on that point. The ocean wasn’t the most pleasantly scented thing, but the combination of salt and rotting animals wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever encountered, either. Shaking his head a little, the old man and the boy he was merged with both focused on the fellow walking down the gang plank toward himself and the other passengers who were waiting to get on board. The man had two others with him. Behind him and dressed in ill-fitting clothing, compared to what the one in front had on.
Crew, most likely. The higher-ranking ones, since the other men in the distance all wore plain brown trousers and flowing loose shirts. Most of them well stained and in a gray color. The three in front of him had on nicer things. Jackets of thick material which seemed to be wool. They matched nicely, since all of them were wearing the same color. That was a deep green, which showed some wealth, he had to imagine. After all, the dye was dark and fresh seeming.
They also had metal buttons, which were rare to see outside of the castle. The military had them, but not the levies or the road people. Not commonly, at least. The man in the lead stopped and gave them all a rather large, fairly friendly smile. Then he spoke to them, in fluent, if accented, Barquean. Not the language of Istlan at all. The fellow spoke without much pause, but not like a man from that particular land, exactly. He lacked the dark-skinned look of the people from that place, as well, being of a lighter hue. One of the men behind him was similar, but the other was darker in coloration.
The gentleman in command bowed, directly toward Depak Sona. His hands were out to the sides, with his palms raised upward. That was an interesting thing to notice, really. It was how you bowed when faced with a great power or an unknown, but most likely fearsome, being. The bald magician smiled, a bit enigmatically and did it back. His palms down. Anders did that as well, having been learning the customs of other lands, in preparation for his journey. The others with him all did other things. Prince Alpert used first courtly, the women curtsied, and the guards with them used martial bows, while watching the new men closely. Only Daren Willet, the Prince’s servant for the trip, managed to match the man’s bow in style. It was a thing which was noticed, by the three men they were meeting.
“I’m Captain Enna, of the Sea Leopard.” He smiled, in a friendly fashion, then nodded at Anders and, interestingly, over at Daren, near the back. “These men are my First Mate Sooner and Second Mate Breegs.” The man waited then, looking directly at Depak Sona, since he was clearly the important person there.
Which was only partially true, of course. The Magician was in a fine robe that did look wealthy, but everyone there was well dressed compared to most he’d seen, outside the castle, on the trip there. Not himself, or Daren, particularly, since he’d done their clothing for them, in plain brown. They both looked clean though, with no patches or stains on their outfits. The guards were all in gray, except for Sir Daniel. He was in shining silk. Even Master Belford was, as well as Mistress Colm. Her being there didn’t truly make a lot of sense, given they probably didn’t need the castle's new herb mistress with them for the trip. Anders had to figure that the woman had been sent with them for personal reasons.
She was married to Master Belford now, after all. Making her Mistress Belford. A thing he needed to recall, in case they actually spoke at some point. That part had been a shock to him, since they’d been married literally two days before, on the road, away from the castle. No one had been ready for it. Including Master Belford, as far as Anders could determine.
No one had spoken to him about the matter, either.
Meaning it probably wasn’t his business.
The magician smiled at the captain then gave a gentle nod to both of the other men there, including them in the greeting. He spoke in Scara, which was what the language of Barquea was still called, even after over a thousand years. His voice held a different, more certain and rather firm character in his own language.
“I’m Depak Eta. There are very important people with me, Captain. This man is Prince Alpert Caldas, of Istlan. With him are his wives, Lyse and Aisla. Aisla is a Princess of Barquea as well as Istlan. This gentleman is Master Nicoa Belford, the new Ambassador to my people and his wife, Ava Belford.” He glanced around, looked at Anders and then smiled. “That should give you the important names. At least as far as not starting a war goes. Are we to load now, or...”
The First Mate shook his head, seeming almost a bit ill, for some reason. He was the other half-pale fellow. The fellow was well appointed in a way, having big ears and a long, commanding nose, but he’d been fine in his mood, mere moments before.
“That... No, if that isn’t a hardship, Great One? The men need to load first and we won’t be underway for four more hours. I...” The man swallowed, then took a very deep breath, as if he half expected to be blasted with magic for daring to speak what amounted to common sense. The Captain didn’t scold the man for being out of turn or anything. When he continued, the man nodded his head a few times, almost as if truly afraid, for some reason.
Then he hunched over, more than a bit.
“There is an inn near, which has good enough ale and decent meat pies? We could, perhaps, have one of your servants stay, to guard your things, if you fear loss that way. I noticed that you brought your own food? Perhaps your cook will wish to see to that, to make certain it’s loaded properly?” Then, suddenly, the man put his hands out, palms up, and bowed again. The other two fellows did that as well.
Depak sighed, slightly and did it back again.
“That sounds fine, I’m certain. Anders, you and Master Willet can see to that for us? If you will, of course.” The magician didn’t so much as glance away from the Captain, the entire time.
Anders simply nodded, smiling.
“Of course, Depak Sona.” He glanced behind him and waved for Daren to come forward. “It sounds like I’ll be needed to see to the food, at any rate. Daren can stand and stare at the men doing the loading, if that will work, Captain? I... Do you think your cook will allow me to use your facilities on board? I don’t want to press in, but...” That would be hard to explain, if the men wanted to really know. After all, even Prince Alpert had been prepared to eat borgu and pork fat for the entire sea voyage portion of the trip. All of the food they had with them was Anders doing. Things he’d purchased himself, not trusting that the food of a working ship would be that easily accepted by the others with them. He shrugged then and bowed toward the three men. “I brought enough for the crew as well, if that serves?”
That hadn’t been needed, but serving fine pies and choice cuts of meat while the working men ate fine ground oat porridge for two meals a day could create problems. They were on the ship for three weeks. Longer if the weather wasn’t with them.
The Second Mate grinned at him.
“If you mean that, you’ll be halfway to the hearts of most of the men! Old Matt won’t mind sharing the galley with you. If he does, you can just not wake him up in time to prepare the food. He likes his drink, Old Matt.” The Second Mate waved at him then and over toward Daren, drawing him in. “I didn’t know that you Istlan types would speak Scara. We do back home, in port. Close enough that people from there understand it, anyway, as long as you go slow for them. I’m from Barquea, myself. The ship is out of Devos, of course. You can tell by the fancy uniforms.” He gestured down at his green jacket, which had the Captain smiling.
He nodded at Daren as he walked up, seeming a little hesitant, but not too much so.
“These men are...” The Captain smiled and gestured, making eye contact with Depak, even if it clearly pained the man to do it.
The magician waved at them.
“Master Daren Willet, and Anders Brolly. Daren is acting as Prince Alpert’s main servant for this journey and the stay there. He has a few weeks of Scara, but feel free to drill him in it or correct him. Anders needs to work on his accent a bit, but is fluent. He’s my apprentice, if you need anything done of a magical nature. Feel free to task him with what you will, to that end.” The line was casually tossed out and not strictly true.
The man had taught him the magician’s arts, but there was nothing as formal as a real apprenticeship between them. Not that Anders called the man on the idea. The Captain simply nodded at the news.
“Ah? That will keep him busy, no doubt! Especially if he’s also cooking for these assembled personages. Very good. Come, if it pleases you, Master Willet? Apprentice Anders.” The last words weren’t an order, but clearly held an air of being an afterthought. He didn’t get the meaning behind it, but figured that Depak was either playing a trick on him, for amusement, or wanted him to not be thought of too highly, in the eyes of the men there, for some reason.
He simply moved then, following the Second Mate. Daren was with the First Mate, since they had to walk toward the goods being unloaded, first thing. The darker skinned man, who wasn’t all that large, and not that old, being about two decades or so, didn’t speak until he pointed at a door.
“Galley hatch. The food will be loaded into the locked pantry, to prevent theft. All of the mates have a key to that and the rum locker. The Captain too, of course.” There was a pause then, as they climbed down the very steep stairs. Off to the left there was a small room that held tables and benches. It was enough for about ten people to crowd into at one time, if they didn’t mind being close.
“That’s the crew Galley. Next door is the Captain’s mess. The fine people will be in there, of course. We’ll need to eat in shifts, I think. That means serving four meals a day, even if we only eat twice. Extra work for you. Not that Old Matt can’t do his job. We tease him, but he’s a good sort. The Captain’s Uncle.” The last was spoken almost quietly, as if in warning to Anders. Possibly so he’d know not to be mean, or rude, to the man.
That probably wouldn’t be too hard, since he tried not to be that way toward anyone.
“I’m sure we’ll get along well. The food isn’t truly special, but some of the containers have magical seals on them. Things that will need to be reset if they’re opened.” He was proud of his work that way, since he’d taken three evenings to work out how to set spells that would preserve food.
In the end Depak had given him some clues as to how to do it right. He’d needed to learn to slow time in a very small area. At that moment he was holding fifteen spells to that end, stopping spoilage through force of will. Inside the boxes and barrels, time was barely shifting at all. It had taken him a lot of effort to capture the needed effect. A good bit of personal energy to set them each time, as well. Thankfully holding them in the correct state wasn’t that much of a chore to maintain.
The Second Mate snorted a bit.
“Then we need to go and keep the men from prying into them. Most won’t do anything big, but if they can get a bit extra, they will. We aren’t a pirate vessel or anything, but most of the men have worked that kind of ship before, so... You know how that goes. Guard your women and valuables. Your own behind, as well, unless you like that sort of thing. The men were told not to bother anyone too much, but that doesn’t mean they won’t offer you a trinket or bit of fruit in hopes of winning you over. They try it with me and I’m the second on this boat. On the good side, you have a knife. Anyone does too much, just stab them a bit.”
The man made a little poking gesture, so that he’d get the idea.
Anders did, though he also thought the slightly older boy might have been teasing him, a little. If so, it seemed companionable, and not mean spirited.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Do you think it will be a major issue?”
Breegs shook his head.
“Not really. Some of the men might try that with you, being good looking and clearly young. Plus, a boy. Crews like this tend to like men over woman, for that kind of thing. It’s part of why they go to sea. I know that I’m going to see if you’ll entertain me later, if that isn’t offensive?” The young man didn’t let him say no, just going on, instantly. “You’re the Great One’s apprentice, though? That must be scary. I heard he’s being called back to Barquea because of the war. That... Isn’t good. Tens of thousands have died at his hands. True, fifty odd years ago, but the Modroc would be fools, not to try and take us out, if they learn he’s headed for them.”
Anders had wondered if that might not be the case, already. After all, the Ambassador, or former Ambassador now, was a formidable man. He’d mentioned being at war before, too. Also, that he’d done things that had haunted him for a very long time, after.
He shrugged, instead of gossiping in the wrong direction.
“Depak Sona is a good man. Kind and well learned.”
That got him waved at, as they climbed the steep steps, which were nearly a ladder, up to the top deck.
Breegs nodded then.
“Yes? That’s good to know. He’s also very important in Barquea, being related to the Sula there. Think it’s by marriage in that direction. We have Princess Aisla with us as well... Her husband seems like a stronger man than I would have thought, for that type. He’s Prince Alpert out of Istlan, right? I don’t have all the names that way, I fear. King Matheus, not Sula... Queen Maura?” The man glanced at Anders, seeking correction.
None was needed, so far.
“That’s right. Then Prince Robarts, who’s the Heir apparent, Prince Alpert, who’s with us here and the youngest Prince, Erold.”
Breegs gave him a funny look then, and made a slightly annoyed sound.
“Erold? I’d thought his name was Herold. I have the pronunciation right on that now? Erold?”
He nodded, the man, clearly being talkative, going on as they crossed the deck, toward the gangplank that was being used for loading. Daren was standing near the wagon, watching the men doing the work, closely. As if having been told they were all thieves.
The men doing the work didn’t seem to have a problem with that. They just came back and grabbed things. Bags mainly, so far. They looked to be almost done that way. Then the food would be carried in. He doubted it was going to take them four hours to do the work. More like fifteen minutes. They had food for everyone, and it took up a full two wagons, but the crew did fast work and there were twenty of them doing it, so it really wasn’t going to take forever. Then they had to wait on the tide, no doubt.
The Second Mate kept going on speaking, then.
“Princess Aisla, and... Lady Lyse, Alperts’ first wife. Only, she isn’t given that title there? That’s different. Then, Istlanians don’t have more than one wife, so she’s his... Friend? What do they call it there?”
Anders shrugged.
“Mistress, but that isn’t a title, properly speaking. Really, we don’t speak of it at all.” Not even to him, which was less than informative of them.
The Second Mate gave him a strange look then.
“I see. I think. You have the look of an Istlan. The light hair and blue eyes of their leaders. You’re from Barquea, though?”
