Home > The Diamond Throne (The Elenium #1)(102)

The Diamond Throne (The Elenium #1)(102)
Author: David Eddings

‘Lillias isn’t dangerous in that particular way.’ ‘We’re talking about a woman, I gather.’ It was obvious that Kurik did not intend to be put off. Sparhawk made a sour face ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I was here in Jiroch for ten years. Voren set me up in a little shop where I went by the name Mahkra. The idea was that I could drop out of sight so that Martel’s hirelings couldn’t find me. In order to keep busy, I gathered information for Voren. To do that, I needed to look like all the other merchants on that street. They all had mistresses, so I needed one, too. Her name was Lillias. Satisfied?’

‘That was quick. The lady has a short temper, I take it?’

‘No, Kurik. She has a very long one. Lillias is the kind of woman who nurses grudges.’

‘Oh, that kind. I’d like to meet her’

‘No, you wouldn’t. I don’t think you’d care for all the screaming and dramatics.’

‘That bad?’

‘Why do you think I slipped out of town in the middle of the night? Do you suppose we could drop this?’ Kurik started to chuckle ‘Excuse me for laughing, my Lord,’ he said, ‘but as I recall, you weren’t exactly brimming with sympathy when I told you about my indiscretion with Talen’s mother’

‘All right. We’re even, then.’ Sparhawk clamped his lips shut and rode on, ignoring Kurik’s laughter

The docks that jutted out into the muddy flow of the Gule River were rickety affairs and they were draped with smelly fishnets. Dozens of the wide-beamed river boats that plied the stream between Jiroch and Dabour were moored to them. Dark-skinned sailors clad in loincloths and with cloths wound about their heads lounged on their decks. Sparhawk dismounted and approached an evil-looking one-eyed man in a loose-fitting, striped robe. The one-eyed man stood on the dock bawling orders at a lazy-looking trio of sailors aboard a mud-smeared scow.

‘Your boat?’ the knight asked.

‘What of it?’

‘Is it for hire?’

‘That depends on the price’

‘We can work that out. How many days to Dabour?’

‘Three, maybe four days, depending on the wind.’ The captain was assessing Sparhawk and the others with his good eye. His surly expression changed, and he smiled an oily smile ‘Why don’t we talk about the price, noble sir?’ he suggested.

Sparhawk made some pretence at haggling, then dipped into the pouch of coins Voren had given him and counted silver into the riverman’s grimy hand. The man’s single eye came alight when he saw the pouch.

They boarded the boat and tethered their horses amidships as the three sailors slipped the hawsers, pushed the boat out into the current, and raised the single, slanted sail. The river was sluggish, and the stiff onshore breeze blowing in off the Arcian Strait pushed them upstream against the current at a goodly speed.

‘Watch yourselves,’ Sparhawk muttered to his companions as they unsaddled their mounts. ‘Our captain appears to be an independent businessman with his eye open for opportunities.’ He walked aft to where the one-eyed man stood at the tiller. ‘I want you to keep as close to shore as you can,’ he said.

‘What for?’ The captain’s lone eye became suddenly wary

‘My sister’s afraid of water,’ Sparhawk improvised. ‘If I give you the word, put your boat up against the bank so that she can get off.’

‘You’re paying.’ The captain shrugged. ‘We’ll do it any way you like’

‘Do you run at night?’ Sparhawk asked him.

The captain shook his head. ‘Some do, but I don’t. There are too many snags and hidden rocks for my taste. We moor up against the bank when it gets dark.’

‘Good. I like prudence in a sailor. It makes for safer journeys –which brings up a point.’ He opened the front of his robe to reveal his mail coat and the heavy broadsword belted at his side ‘Do you get my meaning?’ he asked.

The captain’s face clouded with chagrin. ‘You have no right to threaten me on my own boat,’ he blustered.

‘As you said before, I’m paying. Your crew looks a little undependable to me, Captain, and your own face isn’t one to inspire trust.’

The captain’s face grew sullen. ‘You don’t have to be insulting,’ he said.

‘If I’ve misjudged you, I’ll apologize later. We have certain valuables with us and we’d prefer to keep them. My friends and I will sleep on the foredeck. You and your men can sleep aft. I trust that won’t inconvenience you too much?’

‘Aren’t you being a little overcautious?’

‘Nervous times, neighbour. Nervous times. Remember, when we tie up to the bank for the night, keep your men on the aft deck – and warn them against sleepwalking. A boat can be a very dangerous place for that sort of thing, and I’m a light sleeper.’ He turned and walked back forward.

The river banks on either side were covered with thick, rank vegetation, though the hills rising behind those narrow strips of green were barren and rock-strewn. Sparhawk and his friends sat on the foredeck, keeping a careful eye on the captain and his sailors and watching for any signs of unusual-looking weather. Flute sat astride the bowsprit playing her pipes while Sparhawk spoke quietly with Sephrenia and Kurik. Sephrenia already knew the customs of the country, so Sparhawk’s instruction was directed primarily at his squire. He cautioned him about the many minor things that could be taken as personal insults and about other things that were considered sacrilegious.

‘Who made up all these stupid rules?’ Kurik demanded.

‘Eshand,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘He was crazy, and crazy people take great comfort in rituals.’ ‘Anything else?’

‘One other thing. If you should happen to encounter any sheep, you have to step aside for them.’

‘Say that again?’ Kurik’s tone was incredulous.

‘It’s very important, Kurik.’

‘You’re not serious!’

‘Deadly serious. Eshand was a shepherd when he was a boy and he used to go absolutely wild when someone rode through his flock. When he came to power, he announced that God had revealed to him that sheep were holy animals and that everyone had to give way to them.’

‘That’s crazy, Sparhawk,’ Kurik protested.

‘Of course it is. It’s the law here, though.’

‘Isn’t it strange how the Elene God’s revelations always seem to coincide exactly with the prejudices of His prophets?’ Sephrenia murmured.

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