Yet his man at Port Starhaven, one of the few towns that lay along the northern branch, had been the first to note its approach. Bunlap had checked the fortress's log the night before. Recent entries indicated that there were no reported sightings of such a ship on the Sulduskoon, not on either side of the place where the northern branch met the main river. It was as if the ship had fallen from the clouds.
Or, a more likely possibility, and even more disturbing, it had been carted overland to a point on the northern branch and kept hidden hi dry dock until it was needed. But why, and by whom?
Bunlap well knew the difficulty and expense of overland shipping. Whoever had gone to such trouble must have deep pockets and a compelling motivation. Well enough; he would empty those pockets and demand to know the reasons.
"Raise the chain behind her, bring it up fast and pull it as tight as it'll go," he bellowed, raising an eyeglass and peering down at the swiftly sailing craft. "On my mark… now!"
Several men hurried to a massive crank and began to turn with frantic haste. A huge chain, nearly as thick as a dwarfs waist, began to wind around a gathering spool. The other end of the chain was tethered to the far shore, bolted and welded to a platform that was itself pile-driven into the rocky bank. Once the chain was raised, no ship-not even this shallow-keeled phantom-could escape downriver.
As Bunlap anticipated, the sailboat tacked sharply, heading straight toward the eastern shore. This was the response most ships made, and it was the most logical. Put some distance between the ship and the apparently hostile fortress-a reasonable dodge. But what most travelers did not realize until too late was that the raising of the chain alerted men who were stationed on the eastern shore and along each of the tributaries. These men poured from their hidden barracks, those on the east shore seizing arms and those along the north putting small, swift craft into the water and rushing toward the pinned-down ship. They would surround it, capture it, and escort the ship and crew to Bunlap's fortress. It was a well-planned maneuver, put into practice often enough to have become almost routine.
But to Bunlap's surprise, the sailboat continued straight for the eastern shore and the forces that awaited her there. Several sets of long oars flung out over the side, and unseen oarsmen pulled hard as they rowed with breakneck haste for the beach.
The mercenaries assembled at water's edge scattered as the shallow boat thrust up out of the water. A dozen or more fighters leaped from the boat onto dry land and hurled themselves at Bunlap's men. One of them, a minor mage of some sort, sent a tiny ball of light hurtling toward the sails. The canvas had been treated with some kind of oil, for immediately flames leaped outward in all directions to engulf the entire ship.
Dark billows of smoke forced the battle back from the shore. Bunlap squinted into his eyeglass, peering through the gathering cloud of smoke and trying to find some clue that would help him make sense of this ship and these tactics. What he saw thrust him even deeper into puzzlement.
Most of the crew of the strange sailing craft were clad in tunics and leggings of a distinctive dark purple which marked them as hired swords of the palace, mercenaries who reported to the lesser members of the Balik family. This was an oddity, for Pasha Balik and his pleasure-loving kin were not known to venture beyond the walls of Zazesspur. Odder still was the sole exception among these purple-clad fighters: a female, and an elf!
She was not one of the forest people, of that Bunlap was certain. The elves of Tethir were copper-hued and tended to be small in build and stature. This one was raven-haired and tall as most men. Bunlap caught a glimpse of her face-it was as pale as a pearl, a shade that was peculiar to moon elves. These were common enough in Tethyr, but most were fairly recent arrivals who had settled in the trade cities and farmlands. Bunlap hadn't a clue as to what might bring palace guards and a moon elf wench to this part of the country.
Whatever her purpose, the elf woman was a sword-master of rare ability. The mercenary captain watched in helpless rage as she cut through his hired men with dizzying speed and terrifying ease. Not a man among them could stand before her sword. Bunlap was not certain that he himself could match her. Then the smoke grew too thick for him to see more, and there was nothing to do but wait.
The clang of battle and the cries of the wounded drifted up to him across the expanse of water. Bunlap noticed that the chorus of steel on steel was rapidly thinning out. The battle was winding down faster than he would have thought possible. At this rate, it would be over before any of his other boats could reach the eastern shore!
At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that the elf woman and the purple mercenaries would soon be in his power. With their ship destroyed, they could hardly escape. They had nowhere to go-except to Bunlap's fortress!
Even as this thought formed, Bunlap noted a flurry of movement several hundred yards south of the battle. Two small boats, bottoms up, emerged from the thick smoke and scuttled toward the river like bugs-large bugs that boasted three pairs of purple-clad legs each.
Several more Balik guards hurried along behind these boats, some carrying pilfered oars, others brandishing their curved swords and watching their backs for pursuit. There was none. Bunlap's men were lost in the smoke, battling a deadly elf woman who, unlike them, could see in darkness better than any cat. For all he knew, by now she had them fighting each other!
A surge of rage swept through the mercenary captain as the escape strategy became clear to him. Using the smoke as a cover, the guards were stealing Bunlap's boats, walking portage around the chain, and making their escape downriver!
There was nothing he could do to stop them, not even if he had the chain lowered so his other boats were able to give pursuit. He had no way of getting new orders to the men. Nor would they take such action on their own, for the strong westerly wind was blowing the dark, oily smoke across the river in a thick and effective screen. It was unlikely that any of the men who fought on the eastern shore or who were still on the river could even see the escaping boats!
As he waited for the battle to end, Bunlap's rage and frustration deepened. He could not vent his spleen upon the men, for he would need every one of them for the coming battles. And he was fairly certain he would get no satisfaction from the elf wench. Bunlap was ready to bet big money that when the smoke cleared, there would be no trace of her.
He was also fairly certain of her destination. It would not be the mountains, which were catacombed with dwarven tribes, but the elven forest.
This was not a heartening thought. A moon-elven warrior, smart enough to elude him, powerful enough to claim assistance from Zazesspur's ruling family? As if he hadn't problems enough in that thrice-blasted forest!
Bunlap spun away and stalked down the steps that led from the palisades to the courtyard. For several moments he stood, watching as his lieutenants took the new recruits through their morning weapons training. They were good, this batch, and as he watched Bunlap felt his rage cool-but not dissipate, never that. Bunlap's anger was like a forge-heated sword: it only got harder and sharper as the heat slipped away.
He'd counted on the reclusive nature of the forest elves for his plan's success, and so far it had served him well. If this moon elf had a notion to join forces with the wild folk, she'd likely find they had ideas of their own! And even if she did, what of it? One more sword would not turn the balance in favor of the elves of Tethir. And when the time was right, he, Bunlap, would take great pleasure in ending the career of this elf woman. She would have to wait her turn, of course, but she'd be just as dead for the delay. There was enough elf-hatred in Bunlap's heart to sink Evenneet into the sea.