“Keep your hands away from your own weapons, brother,” he said quietly.
“Believe me, I’m trying to.”
Reining up, Trey dismounted. “I am Treyill of the Goshon,” he said. “This is my brother Bayne and my kinsman Kellisin. “We’re traveling south. We have goods to trade. You understand, trade?”
The woman nodded warily. “I am Kith Arkarus of Waymeet, the Quarry Master here,” she replied, her accent thick and exotic but understandable. “This is Captain Danel of the Valdemar Guard.”
Trey couldn’t help but show his surprise. “Valdemar?”
Captain Danel gave him a measured look. “You came through the Crook Back Pass?” he asked.
“The Feral.”
“Ah, then you’ll have passed through no villages to tell you. You crossed Valdemar’s northwestern border some days ago. We’re the farthest settlement in the area, and the newest.”
“King Restil is expanding the palace,” a new voice said excitedly. The three Goshon glanced up just as a young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Kellisin, appeared on the top of one of the blocks of stone on the halfloaded barge.
“This is Gabrielle Post,” the Quarry Master said dryly. “My niece. Apprenticed to Haven’s Master Builder . . .”
“My father,” Gabrielle supplied.
“Sent north to gain experience in the building trades.”
“Haven?” Trey asked.
“The capital of Valdemar.”
“And you will float this stone there?”
“Tomorrow morning if the weather holds.”
Trey and Bayne exchanged another glance.
“You’ll be passing through a lot of wild country,” Trey noted.
“Wild for the unwary, maybe,” Captain Danel answered. “But we’re not unwary,” he added meaningfully, “and we’re not unprepared.”
Bayne smiled at the unsubtle warning.
“I’m sure of it,” Trey replied smoothly. “I’m told that a sharp eye and a courageous arm are always welcome in Valdemar if they’re offered honestly. For passage to Haven, I offer ours. If any of your people have heard stories of mine, you’ll know that this offer is made honestly.”
The captain and the Quarry Master exchanged a glance while both Bayne and Kellisin tried not to look surprised.
“We know of the Goshon in Waymeet,” the Quarry Master acknowledged. “Though we’ve not seen any of your people in a generation or more.” She tipped her head to one side, her expression speculative. “It’s said that you have an uncanny ability to track and trap the creatures your clan is named for.”
Trey smiled. “What’s said is true, and yes, we have pelts to trade as well.”
“I think we can come to an arrangement then, if the captain is willing.”
“What a strange craft this is.”
An hour later, with the negotiations between the Quarry Master and his kinsman complete, Kellisin lay stretched out on the pier, studying the underside of the barge intently as the setting sun cast long, orange fingers across the water.
Crouched beside him, Gabrielle bobbed her head happily. “It’s a much better mode of transportation than sleds pulled by oxen,” she explained. “The river does all the work, you see.”
“Yes, I do see. But how does it stay on the surface with such a heavy load upon it?”
“Magic.”
“What? Truly?”
Gabrielle’s laughter rang out like the pealing of bells. “No, of course not. The barge is built to distribute the load evenly and since it’s made of wood and wood floats, so does the barge and whatever is placed on it. Evenly. Do you see?”
He smiled up at her, obviously content to simply hear the sound of her voice. “Not really, Gabrielle.”
She grinned down at him. “Call me Gaby.”
“I shall.” He glanced back at the barge. “What if winds or storms redistribute the weight?”
“Oh. Then the barge would sink.”
“But if the barge sinks you’d never be able to get the stone up from the riverbed, would you?”
She shrugged easily. “We’d better hope it doesn’t sink, then. My father said to bring him his stone or don’t come home at all.” She laughed again. “I’m mostly sure he was joking. Mostly.” She cocked her head to one side. “Did you want to see how we load the stone upon rollers?” she asked, suddenly a little shy.
He smiled back at her, suddenly less so. “Yes, I should like that very much,” he answered.
Seated by a small fire on the edge of the settlement, Trey and Bayne watched as Gabrielle tucked their kinsman’s arm into hers and led him off toward the quarry.
“Well, it looks like he, at least, has ridden into our new life smoothly enough,” Bayne chuckled.
Trey nodded wordlessly.
“That’s good, yes?” his brother prodded.
“Yes.”
“But?”
“But he isn’t there yet,” Trey said in a cautious tone. “And neither are we.”
“Hmm.” Staring up at the starlit sky, Bayne rubbed at a small scar on one knuckle. “This new idea of yours will likely see us there that much sooner though. I wasn’t expecting to float our way south. When did you dream that?”
“I didn’t, and it might be a terrible mistake, but . . .”
“But?”
“But as Kellisin said, I dreamed this place and its floating stone boats for a reason. Vulshin told me to that my dreams would make sense when I trusted them to do so.”
“And do you?”
Trey sighed. “Not yet.”
Standing, Bayne swiped at his trousers. “Well, let’s hope you do by the time we need you to. I’m going to check on the ponies.”
Left on his own, Trey scowled at the image of the blue coat which seemed to form and reform in the flickering campfire. “Yes,” he said doubtfully. “Let’s hope I do.”
That night he dreamed of a hail of arrow fire coming from the southern trees and the next morning, warned, the settlement guards mounted an extra vigilant watch while Gabrielle and the Quarry Master oversaw the loading of the final barge.
After giving her a curt hug, the older woman held her out at arm’s length. “I’m sending you three masons and three laborers to help unload at Haven, but I want them back, understood?” she said. “And the captain has steady company to see you safely there, so don’t be afraid.”
Gabrielle laughed at her. “Granite makes an excellent shield, Auntie,” she said in a condescending tone. “And besides, I have my fine northern clansman to protect me.” She shot a dazzling smile in Kellisin’s direction and the Quarry Master scowled at her.
“Yes, well, be safe and come back to us if your father allows it. You’re a good worker. Tell my sister I said so.”
“I will.” Catching Kellisin by the hand, Gabrielle drew him onto the lead boat, then waved jauntily as it cast off while, beside them, Bayne and Trey shared another rolling of their eyes.
“That’s all we need,” Bayne whispered. “Another colt to look after.”
“Shh.” Catching hold of one of the ropes lashed to the stones to steady himself, Trey elbowed his brother in the side as the three barges began to move slowly out into the water.
Once they’d made they way into the current, the barge captain, an old man with a grizzled length of long, braided gray hair, squinted across the river with an egregious expression. “We won’t be able to hug the northern bank for long,” he warned. “Sooner or later we’re going to have to move into deeper water.”
Captain Danel nodded. “Let us know when it’s to be,” he said.
“Shafts!”
At Bayne’s shout, Gabrielle and her workers dove for cover while the six guardsmen and three Goshon answered the hail of arrow fire with a volley of their own.