'Yes, Captain. Might I ask why?'
'You might, but it would be a waste of your breath.'
Ben-Foran saluted and strode off, calling out names as he went. 'It's time we got some of this stuff away from here,' he said to Erys.
'You think we're in some danger?'
'This is the centre of their faith, or so you told me. How long before it gets visited by more Al-Arynaar, do you think?' Yron hefted the papers. 'These go tonight, and not via the camp. There's something not quite right about the atmosphere round here.'
'I can't feel anything different.'
'No indeed. But then you haven't been here before, have you? It's just a feeling. Trust me.' He ushered Erys back towards the temple. 'Show me everything you've got so far. We need an evacuation plan.'
Thunder cracked across the darkening sky. The rains came again. The next morning, Hirad was woken by The Unknown Warrior to a surprisingly cool dawn. A sea mist had rolled in and was suffocating the docks and large areas of the city, hemmed in as it was by hills. Over a meal of bread and herb tea, Ren assured them the mist wouldn't last.
Hirad didn't care if it stayed all day. He was anxious to get on and could feel the energy building within him. He knew where it came from and he looked around the table and drank in the sight. The Raven. Together and united in a single purpose. To watch them and hear the desultory conversation it was easy to imagine they were as they had always been but that was far from the truth.
Thraun still hadn't uttered a word and had the look of a man lost to the real world for much of the time. At the moment he was concentrating on food and was the most human he ever seemed. He followed The Unknown around like a faithful hound. Hirad was beginning to wonder if he'd prove a liability.
The dark patches under Erienne's eyes told of another night of precious little sleep. Hirad had heard her quiet crying through the thin walls of the inn and Denser's voice trying to comfort her. Neither had said much this morning but they had brought no good news back with them the previous evening. Though they'd not seen or heard of anyone dying, more and more were afflicted and to starkly varying degrees.
Some who had shown violent symptoms days before were now no more than tired, while others who had only just developed the disease were already too weak or unbalanced to walk, or else were struggling against sudden and severe internal bleeding. The Raven had done what they could, but without experience of the ways of elves had found themselves treated with coolness though not hostility.
Still, at least Darrick was with them now. Hirad remembered trying to get him to ride with The Raven during the final stages of their quest for Dawnthief. He'd refused then but Hirad had always known deep down that things would change. It was just a shame the circumstances of that change had been so bloody and tragic.
He looked forward to fighting with Darrick, if it came to that, back on Balaia. Aeb, of course, was a hugely powerful addition and The Unknown's left-hand defence now he couldn't use his double-handed sword. Ren worried him though. There had been neither the will nor the need to train her to fight in line and he worried about what that might do. He knew she enjoyed swordplay but perhaps they could persuade her to stick to her bow.
Time would undoubtedly tell. But on the trip to Balaia they'd have to get themselves back into fighting form. The Raven had survived for so many years because of their trust and unshakeable discipline as much as their skill. Hirad reminded himself to talk to The Unknown about it. He wasn't sure how much fighting the big man anticipated back on Balaia but one thing was certain. Right now, they didn't have their edge. They'd be fighting from memory, with two people who had only fought with them once, one who hadn't hefted a sword in The Raven ever and one complete enigma.
Hirad drained his tea and stood up from the table in the inn where they'd gathered for breakfast. All that was for later.
'Come on then, Raven. Let's get moving before the sun clears this mist.'
There was a concerted move stalled only by Thraun, who was determined to finish every last crumb of bread.
'What's he planning to do, hibernate?' said Ilkar. 'Don't bring too much. We're in one boat. It's got oars, a sail and forward decking for stowing gear. I'll introduce you to the guide when we're on our way. Until then, keep quiet. He's already nervous about taking strangers upriver.'
'Strangers?'
'Yes, Hirad. If you're not elven on Calaius, you're a stranger. Remember that. Especially inland.'
They walked down to the river jetties in almost total silence, the thick mist giving the streets an eerie feel. Ysundeneth was very quiet. It shouldn't have been, not even this early, but word of the illness would have spread fast and people weren't anxious to open their doors and face the uncertainty of the day ahead.
The sun was barely beginning to penetrate the chill of the mist. Hirad shivered, wishing for his heavy leather or furs, but on Ilkar's advice he, like all of them, had bought new clothes in the markets yesterday. Light leather armour and boots, lightweight cloaks and shirts. Everything dark brown, black or green, the colours of the forest.
'It must be a drab place,' Hirad had said.
Ilkar had laughed. 'You have never seen anything like it.'
Hirad determined to remember that. He'd better be impressed.
Ilkar took them through twisting paved streets with houses and buildings close in on either side. Above the mist, seabirds called and answered. The jetties were a couple of miles inland from the docks and above the estuary. They were built for shallow-draught river-boats, and as they approached Hirad could see dozens of the boats tied up or hauled onto the muddy shore of the River Ix, which was named after the elven God of mana, or so Ilkar said.
He could smell the water. It was not altogether unpleasant, and although brown and its flow soporific in its sluggishness, it had none of the fetid stagnancy he associated with city rivers back on Balaia. The elves, it seemed, didn't use theirs as dumps or sewers.
The wooden jetty echoed under the tramp of their feet, the odd timber creaking as they passed, water lapping against the piles driven into the river bed. Ilkar strode confidently over the damp and slippery surface, stopping in front of a quartet of identical craft each some thirty feet long with a single mast in the middle, sail furled horizontally against it. An elf was stretched out across a seat at the stern of one of the vessels, smoke curling from a pipe in his mouth. It reminded Hirad that he hadn't seen Denser smoking his pipe in ages. Perhaps Erienne had cured him of the habit.
Ilkar hailed the elf and he sat up and waved them all on board, keeping his eyes down, not wishing contact with the Balaians invading his boat. He was old for an elf, his hair long and greying, his face full of sharp lines and heavy wrinkles. He had huge hands and powerful shoulders and possessed little of the natural grace of so many of his kind. He and Ilkar held a brief conversation in a dialect Hirad couldn't understand before he untied the stern rope and pushed them into the flow with an oar, where there was a breeze getting up, clearing the mist.
'Get the sail up, would you someone?' asked Ilkar, taking up station at the tiller with their guide, Ren, close to him. 'Kayloor thinks there'll be enough wind to take us up against the current but if we could have oars ready, it might help if things get slack.'
'No problem,' said The Unknown, bending down and untying the oar beneath the bulwark. 'You relax.'
'Someone's got to relay what he's saying,' said Ilkar, a smile on his face.
'Right.' The Unknown sat down, Aeb taking up the position beside him. Thraun looked on in some confusion but The Unknown just waved him to a seat and he seemed to understand. Denser and Erienne sat in the prow looking out, still saying nothing. It left Hirad and Darrick to raise the sail, which filled enough to push them gently out into the current.