While he had being speaking, a fine rain had begun to fall. He turned to Reyn with a grin. “I don’t see the need to deal with them until I have to. Especially when the Rain Wilds just may solve them for me.”
Reyn followed Leftrin’s gaze, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he pointed. “What’s that? I haven’t seen that vessel before.”
Leftrin peered through the thickening rain. The falling drops mottled the river’s face with rings and made a shushing sound. It also acted as a curtain between him and the vessel that had just rounded the bend behind them. He peered at it in disbelief. It was a larger craft, narrow and low-roofed. The hull was black, the house bright blue with gold trim. Banks of oars rose and fell in unison. It looked to be shallow draught and to be making better speed than the smaller boats. As he watched, it passed the last boat and moved up on the second one. “Can’t be!” he exclaimed.
“What is it?” Reyn leaned over the side to stare back.
“It’s that damn impervious ship.” Swarge answered his question. “She was tied up to the dock when we got to Cassarick.”
“We’ve heard the rumors for months now,” Reyn agreed grimly. “None of the liveship families like it. A Jamaillian has developed a new coating for boats, one that he claimed will withstand the acids of the Rain Wild River. He offered to send several of the new ships up the river, to prove that their hulls were impervious and to demonstrate the sort of speed they could make with cargo or passengers. A consortium of Bingtown Traders was said to be interested investors, but there were darker rumors that the Jamaillian didn’t care who he sold to as long as they could meet his price. I’d heard one was due to visit Trehaug, but I didn’t pay much attention. Too much else on my mind.” He looked at Swarge for confirmation. “She was tied up at Cassarick when we were there?”
The tillerman shrugged a big shoulder. “When we first arrived. Then she left for Trehaug, and I thought she’d go all the way back to Bingtown. Looks like someone sent a bird and hired her to follow us.”
Leftrin eyed the boat with dismay. She had good lines for a river barge, and her crew appeared strong and disciplined. “And there might be more of them?”
“Almost certainly. There are some, even among the Traders, who say that liveships have strangled trade on the river. The Bingtown and Rain Wild Councils gave permission for the impervious boats to make the attempt. The owners are aggressive, and they will be hungry to find a way to pay back their investment. If they were in Trehaug when we left . . .”
“There would have been plenty of folk willing to hire them to try to follow us.”
“There would have been plenty of money, too,” Reyn added sourly.
Leftrin stared aft, thinking of what all such ships would mean, not just to Kelsingra, but to trade on the river and its settlements if river traffic became heavier and more affordable. He wondered if the Traders who were backing the venture knew that they would be ending a way of life.
As he watched, the blue ship began to close the gap between them. “They’ll keep pace with us easily. Our only hope to lose them will be to travel more by night.” He shook his head and glanced at his tillerman. Swarge, with a determined look on his face, nodded.
“And you think we can lose them?” Reyn sounded anxious.
“I think we can try. Maybe put more distance between us. We can at least hope to reach Kelsingra before they do rather than at the same time,” Leftrin replied grimly.
Reyn nodded. The downpour suddenly became a deluge, the rain hissing like quenched iron as it struck the water. It curtained their pursuers from sight. Reyn spoke quietly. “You know that eventually, they will come, Captain. In large enough numbers that they’ll get what they came for. You know that.”
“I know they’ll come,” Leftrin agreed. He turned to meet Reyn’s eyes and a wolfish smile came over his face. “But they think all they’ll face is a band of half-grown kids and some crippled dragons. But when they reach Kelsingra, what they’ll get may not be at all what they were expecting.”
Five bodies lay on the floor of the Stone Way Chamber. The Duke of Chalced looked down on them with annoyance. It had been an exhausting morning. Each man had insisted on his right to tell his story to the fullest before judgment fell upon him. Each had endeavored to spin out his life’s thread a bit longer. What fools they were. They had failed and they knew it, and they knew they would die for it. They had only come back to report in the foolish hope that perhaps their families would be spared.