Chevell nodded and turned to Roel. “Who were you fighting?”
“ ’Twas the Lord of the Changelings,” raged Roel.
“He was here and then not, and once again I failed.”
“The Changeling Lord? Are you certain?”
“I know my enemy,” gritted Roel.
“And now so does he,” said Chevell.
“Mayhap he knows me as well,” said Celeste, “for I loosed an arrow at him, but he vanished e’en as the shaft flashed through the place where he had been.” Chevell sighed and shook his head. “Oh, Princess.” Stricken with the realization that both he and Celeste were now known to the Changeling Lord, Roel stepped to the princess and put an arm about her. Celeste looked at him and then at Chevell and said, “Roel is right, it was the Lord of the Changelings. I saw the red limning on his cloak. And who else can vanish simply by whirling about?”
“ ’Tis an ill thing he was here,” said Chevell.
Roel gestured at the table. “He was after that map.” Chevell moved to the board and peered at the chart.
“Voila!” he cried. “It is what we came after.”
“Then let us take it and flee,” said Celeste.
They rolled up the map and then sped down the stairs, meeting no one. When they reached the courtyard, it was nearly empty, but the fortress gates yet yawned wide.
“As I surmised,” said Chevell, and out and through the beringing wall and down the switchbacked road they fled.
“This way,” cried Chevell, and he led them through the streets of the town and ’round the arc of the bay as ships burned, and men doused flames with water, and crowds milled about along the piers in the radiant heat.
Dark smoke rose into the air and blotted out stars, acrid tendrils drifting onshore, the smell of it rank. Finally, the trio reached the end of the town, and at a small wharf sat a dinghy, a five-man crew waiting, three with swords in hand, two with arrow-nocked bows.
“Florien!” cried Chevell as he and Celeste and Roel came running. Swords were sheathed and bows slung and oars taken up even as the trio leapt aboard, and Florien barked, “Away!” and the rowers put their backs to the flight, all unnoticed in the pandemonium centered in the bay.
’Round the larboard shoulder of the cove the dinghy hauled, to come to the waiting Sea Eagle. In but moments the free-luffing sails were haled about, and away she flew on the wind, a victorious bird of prey.
17
Parting
“It will make a nice scar, my lord,” said Chirurgeon Burcet, standing behind the captain and tying off the bandage. “One that’ll mark you as a warrior for all to see.”
“I think instead it’ll mark me as a fool for having made a mistake in a duel,” replied the captain, a lock of his red hair spilling over the binding and down his forehead.
Roel smiled. “With that cloth band about your head, I think it makes you look more the freebooter than a king’s man, my lord. What think you, Celeste?”
“What?” Celeste looked up from the vellum on which she copied the map. “What did you ask?”
“Given the bandage, does the captain more resemble a king’s man or a freebooter?”
Celeste studied Chevell for a moment. “I believe it marks him as the duelist he is.”
“Merci, Princess,” said Chevell, bowing from the waist, though seated.
Celeste turned her attention back to the chart.
Burcet put away his needle and gut and said, “We’ll make certain to put a clean bandage on it each day. I think tomorrow a red one will do; it’ll give the men heart.”
“I believe ’twould be better to give the men a double ration of rum, for a splendid task they did this night.”
“Indeed, my lord,” said Florien.
They were gathered in the captain’s cabin, the rescued map on the table, Celeste and Lieutenant Florien at the board, Celeste making a copy under Florien’s direction, the lieutenant a seasoned navigator.
“Ah,” said Celeste, “here is the realm of the Changelings.”
“Oui,” agreed Florien, stabbing a finger down as Roel stepped to the table to see.
“And where are we?” asked Roel.
“Somewhere over here,” said Florien, pointing to a place out in midair beyond the table’s edge.
“Does it show a port?” asked Chevell.
“Oui, my lord,” replied Florien, “Port Cient.”
“Ah, bon! That means we can drop anchor there in three days or so.”
Celeste looked up from her drawing. “Merci, Captain.”
“We are not going to Mizon, my lord?”
“Non, Lieutenant, not directly. First we will lay over in Cient for the men to have shore leave for two or three days, and to set the princess and chevalier on the road to their destination, for Roel would rescue his sister and brothers and perhaps have another crack at the Changeling Lord.”
“Oui,” said Roel. “I would indeed like another try at that vile being.” Then Roel frowned and said, “I wonder why he was at the pirate stronghold.” Celeste shrugged and dipped her pen in ink and traced another line. But Chevell said, “Clearly, Caralos sent the corsairs to fetch the map for the Lord of the Changelings.”
Roel looked up. “Why would the Lord of the Changelings want this map?”
“Because, ever since King Avelar came into possession of it, we have had no maidens stolen from our domain, nor from any other part of Faery, as far as I know.
Avelar, you see, promised the Changeling Lord that should he ever take anyone, our armies of ruin would march into the Changeling realm and destroy all. In return for leaving our women be, Avelar promised him he would make no copies.”
“Ah,” said Celeste in revelation. “Then that is why this map is considered a treasure.”
“Oui,” replied Chevell. “And the map was kept in a magically warded vault to guard against the Changeling Lord and his magery. Yet that was no proof against pirates, for they entered the old-fashioned way: brute force. I imagine Caralos was well rewarded for doing so.”
“Then, the Changeling Lord was there to collect his prize,” said Roel. “ ’Tis good we came when we did; else we would not have the map to copy.”
“My lord,” said Florien, “does making a copy not go against the pledge of the king?”
Chevell held his hand out level and wobbled it as of a ship rolling starboard to larboard and back. “Methinks the Changeling Lord violated the king’s trust by trying to steal it; hence mayhap this be tit for tat.” Florien smiled and said, “Just so.”
“And speaking of rewards,” said Chevell, “Sieur Roel and the princess will need funds to continue their quest.”
“Oui,” said Roel, “yet we brought nothing with us but the clothes on our backs and a sword, shield, and a bow.”
“Pah! You brought your skill and knowledge, and aided in the return of the map. And it just so happens you helped us capture a corsair with treasure in its hold-now in ours-some of which is King Avelar’s, but much of which is not. As an officer of the realm, it is from that loot I will reward you. How much might you need?”
Roel glanced at Celeste, but she smiled without looking up and continued to draw.
Roel glanced at the map and said, “It seems a long journey, and we’ll need horses-two for riding and two packhorses-and tack, food, bedding, and other gear for living in the wild.” Roel frowned. “Hmm. . in a port city, it’s not likely they will have war-trained horses.” He paused in thought, but finally said, “I would think-”
“Florien,” said Chevell, “have we a hundred gold we can reward the chevalier and princess?” Roel’s mouth dropped open. “A hundred-?”
“Oui, my lord,” said Florien. “Easily.”
“But that is entirely too much, Captain,” said Roel. He glanced at Celeste, and again she smiled to herself but kept drawing.
“Non, my boy,” said Chevell. “One hundred is not nearly payment enough for the recovery of this map.
When you and the princess return from your quest, come to Port Mizon. I am certain King Avelar will want, not only to meet you two, but also to properly reward you as well.”