They waited by the low-slung sailing barge for the ferryman to emerge from his little hut. He wore a long dark-blue garment that did not disguise the strong shoulder muscles rippling beneath the fabric. Round his neck he wore the white kerchief of his guild, and his wrists were protected by leather supports to aid in the heavy work of propelling the boat. He recognized Coira immediately and bowed low. “It will be an honor, Princess, to take you back to your palace,” he said respectfully, inviting her onto his boat.
As always she attempted to pay for his services and as always the payment was declined. She smiled at him. “If any orcs turn up looking for us…”
“I’ll tell them I haven’t seen you,” said the man. “And if they want to cross I’ll tell them the boat has sprung a leak.”
Coira stepped into the boat and patted her horse’s neck. “Don’t put yourself in danger on my account. Ferry them over if they insist, but I don’t think they’ll dare. The island is my undisputed realm. They know they can’t harm me there.”
Rodario and Loytan dismounted, as she had done, and held their animal’s reins tightly while the ferryman hoisted the sail and started the crossing.
He had to tack against the wind, so they reached the landing stage in a wide arc. It brought huge rusty iron walls into view rising from the water below the island and a little to the east.
Rodario had noticed the structure and craned his neck to see more. “What is that? A groyne to protect the island?”
“No. It’s a bulkhead.” Coira instructed the ferryman to change course so that they could inspect it.
“Bulkhead? What’s that when it’s at home?”
“It’s to support the sides of a shaft. It’s where we’re heading first, so you’ll have the chance to admire the dwarves’ engineering skill,” she explained. “The fifthlings built it at my great-grandmother’s request.”
“A shaft. In the middle of a lake. But… what for? And how deep does it go?” He was so excited that he walked forward to the bow. The breeze lifted his brown hair and played through his beard.
The ferry headed straight for the structure and Rodario could soon make out the dwarf-runes on the walls. A single iron plate was four paces wide and one pace thick. Ten of these placed side by side formed one wall, and hefty steel girders braced them diagonally. Algae and barnacles covered the outside and there was a metallic smell.
“But it’s…” Rodario was at a loss for words to describe this impressive structure.
“It goes down two hundred paces below the keel of our boat,” said Coira, amused at the man’s childlike enthusiasm. She took her scarf and tied it round her hair to keep it back. “That’s how deep those metal walls go. At the bottom you can walk about without getting your feet wet, but I shan’t take you with me when I go down, so you won’t be able to see.”
He turned to her. “Go down? You’re going down there? What for?”
“Have a think and see if you can work it out for yourself.” She raised her hand in greeting to a helmeted figure and called out three words that Rodario could not understand, an answer coming back in return. “I was giving the password. If they don’t hear it the guards will sink any ship that approaches,” she told him.
“So there’s something down there that’s very precious, very valuable to you…” He paused. “But of course! A magic source!”
“The last magic source in Girdlegard that can still be accessed,” Loytan corrected. “Most of the others have dried up and only a few new ones have formed. There’s one in the land of the alfar, and one in the Blue Mountains, of course, where Lot-Ionan has set up his realm and is training his famuli.”
“As if I didn’t know that,” snapped Rodario.
Loytan grinned maliciously. “Obviously not. Or you wouldn’t have had to ask.”
The boat went round to the side of the shaft and moored at a floating landing stage where four guards stood waiting. They wore only light armor, in case they fell in and had to swim.
Coira and her companions disembarked and climbed the iron steps to the narrow door at the top. Behind it was a walkway. Huts stood at the four corners of the shaft so that the guards could rest, or shelter in inclement weather.
Rodario could see a number of plaited wire ropes going from here to the top of the island, with cage-like gondolas attached. That would be how the guards, and their food and weapons, would be transported.
“There’s a second level beneath the walkway,” said Loytan, taking off his cap. “They’ve got catapults down there. No ship can withstand their fire.”
“You’re really prepared for anything.” Rodario ventured closer to the inner parapet to take a look down. The wind tugged at his clothing, blowing it this way and that.
The shaft was a vast black hole down to nowhere. A damp moldy smell rose up from the depths, a bit like a cellar where metal had been stored.
“Not quite the type of accommodation for a princess, though, is it?” he said, holding tight to the edge. “Couldn’t they have made it… a little more attractive?”
“That’s never been a priority,” laughed Coira as she greeted the commander, who bowed to her. “Get the gondola ready to go down,” she told him and the armored man hurried off. “It’s kept over there in the eastern corner,” she told Rodario. “You and Loytan will wait for me there.”
“I’d love to see the magic wonder with my own eyes,” he confessed. “Couldn’t I watch?”
“It’s quite unspectacular. Just a few sparks.” Coira went ahead. “Nothing worth seeing.”
“You didn’t tell him you bathe in the source naked,” interjected Loytan, eyeing Rodario.
“Naked?” The actor blushed. “Oh, now I understand why I can’t go with you. Though I envy whoever accompanies you.”
“You don’t know what is concealed under my clothes,” she replied, embarrassed in her turn. “Your compliment is somewhat premature.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. I was talking about being able to see the source…” he went on, but noted that Coira’s expression had turned icy.
Loytan laughed out loud. “Oh, a true descendant of the Incredible Rodario. You certainly know how to charm a woman and wrap her round your little finger.”
“Hold your tongues,” she said sharply. “You’re both making me very uncomfortable.” She entered the little hut, where a gondola with a wire cage stood at the back. It was secured by two ropes through a loop at the top.
Coira went over, stepped in and closed the door behind her, nodding to the guard. She moved a lever and the cabin dropped quickly down through a hole in the floor.
“Naked!” Rodario shook his head and sighed, going over to the hole and looking down. If he was not very much mistaken, the princess had already slipped out of her mantle and was unbuttoning her blouse. “I’d have been so glad to hold her clothes for her.”
“You’re not the only one, but there’s only one man she cares about: The unknown poet,” said Loytan crossly, helping himself to tea. “Do you want a cup? To warm you up?”
Rodario looked down again and thought he could catch sight of shimmering skin. One’s imagination could play such tricks… “Something to cool me down, rather,” he replied, and his rejoinder was met with laughter.
“Good one!” the count laughed. He handed over a cup of hot tea regardless. “I think the unknown poet’s days are numbered,” he continued. “Now that we know who he is.” Loytan’s expression became thoughtful, the stubble giving him an older, manly look. “The Lohasbranders will wipe out his family and village.”
“But they won’t be able to destroy the dreams of freedom,” Rodario replied as he sipped his tea, his eyes never shifting from the bottom of the shaft. “Impossible.”
In the depths there came an azure shimmer, illuminating the bottom third of the shaft walls like blue jewels in the sun. He could see the silhouette of the young woman, and in his mind’s eye he could imagine her naked. Unclothed and desirable.