From the other window, the deep blue sea met with a hazy, light blue sky. There were ships, far far away, surely as big as the Pelagian Queen, perhaps even bigger. Other smaller vessels sailed closer, fishing or simply out for the fun of it. Two masses of land stood majestically in the distant waters, the island home of the Pelagian elves with their grey hair and their skill for music and art. Maeneth, princess of Ea Uaré, lived there.
The cabin consisted of a parlour which extended backwards and to a set of curtains that separated it from the sleeping area. There were no windows there, and the beds were stacked one on top of the other.
Ramien and Carodel dragged Handir’s chest to the very back, tying the buckles to iron loops fixed to the floorboards. With permission, Carodel had retrieved his lyre which now hung over his shoulder.
A rectangular table occupied the centre of the parlour. There, Handir sat together with the commanders and Sontúr, watching as the warriors and Llyniel placed their packs and cloaks on the beds further back.
Fel’annár set his weapons on a window seat to one side, ignoring the beds, for he was sure he wouldn’t sleep with a slab of wood in front of his face. He wanted to, though; needed to. Now that he was free to relax, out of sight and well-guarded, the pain in his chest, back and feet had returned, pounding in his ears and stealing his breath. He would never take a running jump like that again. But in spite of his discomfort, he noticed his unusually quiet friend, standing before the window.
Ramien’s eyes shone, were alive with some thrill the sea had awoken in him. He didn’t move at all as the ship sailed further and further away from shore, the buildings becoming smaller. Fel’annár smiled and turned back to the table where Pan’assár began to brief them, taking a seat beside Gor’sadén.
“We must assume the worst, that one or a number of our pursuers followed us on board. If there are few of them, they may not attack but wait for us to dock at Port Helia. They may have back up there. But if there are more of them, they will attack before we arrive.”
The warriors nodded, and Pan’assár continued. “I need The Company, save Fel’annár, to go on deck and watch. If you spot anyone suspicious, follow them. We also need to find out what is going on in the forest. Listen, ask questions and then report. We need to know what truth there may be to what Bredja and Hamon have said. Take as much time as you need, but remember, we are not safe here.”
Galadan nodded, turned to Idernon, saw him watching Fel’annár worriedly. He did not want to leave, knew that he had to. Closer than friends, those two were brothers. Galadan had seen the evidence of it many times. “How is your arm, Idernon?”
“Well enough, lieutenant.”
“Until later, Commander.” He saluted, gestured for the rest to follow him and in his mind, a plan began to hatch. Idernon was well suited to command and he wondered if there would be time to speak to Pan’assár about it.
Outside, the sun was warm, the sky clear and a light breeze pushed against unfurling sails, ropes tensing. The many voices of the mariners sounded all around them. They shouted orders, multi-toned whistles from the now-distant quay. They were picking up speed, the breeze stronger, the salt tickling the back of Idernon’s throat. He smiled in wonder of it all, and Carodel gasped as the wind caught the sails and pushed them away, faster. Galdith, though, seemed uneasy, while he thought Ramien bespelled.
Three days was all they had to find out whether they had been followed and garner information to prepare themselves for what awaited beyond Port Helia. Three days in which the princes, commanders and Fel’annár must remain hidden from view, away from prying eyes, wherever they might be.
By evening, Prince Handir had turned a sickly green, while Fel’annár sat hunched in one corner, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his upper lip. Llyniel and Galadan had gone in search of hot water and provisions, while Sontúr watched the two brothers, listening as the commanders paced while they spoke.
“From what we already know, some new trade route has opened between Ea Uaré and Prairie,” said Pan’assár. “That is unusual, and I know Prince Torhén is in Prairie even now, negotiating such a deal for Tar’eastór. I had the impression his mission was delicate and somewhat difficult?”
Sontúr nodded. “It is. Humans are notoriously difficult to deal with. They have an abundance of wheat and grapes, which they know are coveted. Bread and wine! They make good use of that advantage to press for lucrative terms. They want exotic woods and gems, they want ore, and they want our weapons.”
“It must be asked: what deal has been struck and how?” mused Handir. “No high-ranking dignitaries have before travelled on a formal visit from Ea Uaré as Torhén has done, at least as far as I am aware. And yet, trade is bustling. Look at the number of ships, of merchants and goods. Perhaps it is the humans that have travelled to my father’s court. Or perhaps this is Band’orán’s doing. He knows the power of the Merchant Guild.” He just about managed to finish his sentence, his breath short, before he started coughing again.
“Buying votes?” asked Sontúr, watching Handir closely. He was still unwell from his near-drowning.
“Yes. Buying empathy. Giving the powerful a reason to follow him.” He cleared his throat.
“They will not follow him?” asked Sontúr.
“No. Most are loyal to Or’Talán, to his memory, but some will be swayed if there is something to be gained. Band’orán surely knows this. He cannot escape Or’Talán’s legacy unless he offers them something at least as great as that king.”
“Money, power.”
“Yes, exactly that.”
Gor’sadén leaned forward. “It is certainly a good thing for business. I must wonder why Thargodén himself has not established these routes before.”
“Trade routes can be lucrative and beneficial. But they can also enslave if the terms are unfair, Commander. If Ea Uaré has agreed to provide resin at a certain price, that price must be divided into production cost and benefits for all. If the price is too low, someone suffers, and you can be assured that someone will be the Silvan harvesters. The king will look at all these things and either agree or disagree to a price. All this,” Handir gestured, “suggests that prices are low. This benefits no one save for the nobles at their tables and Band’orán himself.”
“For now, it is all conjecture,” said Pan’assár.
“Yes, well, politics often is, Commander,” said Handir, and Sontúr nodded. The prince could keep his politics to himself. He had never wanted to get involved with all the machinations and the rhetoric.
A knock at the door and Pan’assár opened it. Llyniel and Galadan entered, laden with water and packages. Llyniel fell into a chair beside the window seat where Fel’annár still slouched. “Food and water for tonight, at least. It’s a nightmare out there, albeit a jovial one.” She reached up and placed her hand on Fel’annár’s forehead.
“Did you see The Company?” he mumbled, trying and failing to escape her hand.
“I did. They are mingling, and Carodel is playing that lyre of his. Idernon is keeping them in check.”