the weather, for the seasons along the shores of the Narrows were clement: summers warm, winters mild. There was always ample food and ale. The sea breeze picked up, as it did this time of day, and Declan drank in its cool freshness; he realised he was tired to his bones and parched.
Taking a drink from the bucket, Declan looked up to see Edvalt watching him. Just loud enough to be heard, the old smith softly asked, ‘What do you see, boy?’
Declan smiled. ‘Home.’
Edvalt nodded. ‘Aye, and not a bad one as such things go.’ He put his hand on Declan’s shoulder. ‘When you came here, you travelled with a family that wasn’t your own. They apprenticed you to me in exchange for repairing their wagon …’ His voice fell away. ‘It took only one glance to see their story was true, for you were a large boy, with eager eyes, and their children were all small, frightened things.’ He chuckled. ‘Mila was so angry that I’d taken in a lad who would be no help to us for years, for you were so young. Yet from the start you sought to earn your keep, struggling to haul the big coal scuttle, or bravely holding the fractious horses while I shod them.
‘But you won her over, lad.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You’re the best I’ve trained, Declan, and if I had a son of my own, I would want him to be like you. Should you wish to start out on your own, I understand, but if you’ve a mind to agree, I would be pleased for you to take this forge as your own.’
‘You’ve a lot of good years left, Edvalt, and I don’t know if … I don’t know.’ Declan hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure how Edvalt’s offer made him feel. ‘I’ve been of a mind to set out and find my own way, settle down with a good woman, start my own family.’
‘Not a bad choice. Think on it. For today I pronounce you a master smith and my equal.’
‘Never that, master.’
Edvalt’s eyes showed his feelings, but being a man of few words, he could only put his hand on the young man’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly before he turned and headed into his home.
Declan remained alone for a while, as fatigue and emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Then after a few minutes, he followed Edvalt into the house.
Dockworkers hauled the ship into its berth in the north dock of the city of Sandura. Seven men pulled on a thick hawser, while two youngsters quickly arranged the wooden fenders between its hull and the dock, so that the tidal motion of the sea wouldn’t damage the ship as it rubbed against the stone. It had arrived in port on the morning tide, but by the time a harbour boat with a hawser had rowed out and tossed lines to the crew in the prow, it was nearing noon.
Hatu finished reefing the sails and slid down a rope to the railing, jumped over it, and made for the sailors’ deck, where his go-bag was stored. The deck crew made fast everything that needed to be tied down, while Hatu and the rest of the aloft crew headed belowdecks.
As Hatu wended his way through the clutter of sailors to his hammock, he saw many of the men removing leather neck thongs and untying small objects from their belt loops. He recognised them as various icons of Othan, goddess of the sea and weather, and realised the crew were hiding them in various spots on the sailors’ deck. Hatu understood that meant they were now somewhere the Church of the One held sway and to be seen with any item associated with an old god could land a man on top of a heretic’s pyre.
On reaching the main deck, Hatu spied Master Bodai. Seeing the boy, he motioned for him to come stand at his side. When the youngster reached the man playing the part of a mendicant friar, Bodai said, ‘We wait.’ He leaned on a shoulder-high walking stick, almost a battle staff but not as conspicuous, though Hatu was certain Master Bodai could employ it as such with lethal effect should the occasion warrant.
It took Hatu a moment to realise that the play had begun; as one of the most important masters in Coaltachin, Bodai would usually be first off the ship, but here, as an impoverished monk, he would be among the last passengers to leave.
When the passenger before them had departed, Bodai put his hand on Hatu’s shoulder. ‘Be ready,’ he instructed.
Hatu nodded. He had questions but knew they would keep until a more private moment; until then, he would simply follow instructions and Brother Bodai’s lead. Hatu fell into step behind Bodai, moving last onto the gangplank, keeping his head down, and attempting to look the part of an inconsequential servant.
On the dock, they were just steps away from the gangplank when two men approached, a soldier with the yellow and red badge of Sandura on his tunic, and another wearing a large black badge with a solid white circle at its centre: the sign of the One.
It was the servant of the Church of the One who spoke. ‘Who are you, traveller?’
‘Brother Chasper, late of Turana, an island of Lanobly.’
‘Brother?’ he replied. ‘You wear no vestment or badge.’
The newly named Chasper smiled broadly and said, ‘I am a mendicant friar of the Order of the Harbinger. This is my beggar boy, Venley.’
A look of confusion crossed the soldier’s face and the officer of the Church looked annoyed. ‘We expected an episkopos of your order and his retinue …’ He left the sentence unfinished and made a general circular motion encompassing the itinerant monk.
‘The episkopos hasn’t arrived?’ said Bodai, feigning alarm. ‘I was supposed to join him, to then carry news …’ He gave a sigh that Hatu, now named Venley, thought a hit too theatrical.
It worked, however, as the church official waved them towards the city and said, ‘Go down the main boulevard, across the small plaza, and take the northern street on the other side, two crossings, then west again until you see the burned-out building that was once your order’s temple.’ He almost spat the last word, for all buildings of the One were called churches. The followers of Tathan had been among the first to modify their doctrine to integrate themselves into the Church of the One, claiming the god of purity had been only a prophet, the Harbinger of the One. Many in the church viewed the followers of Tathan as only slightly better than heretics.
Bodai nodded, bowed slightly, and then pushed Hatu’s shoulder in the direction the man had indicated.
When they were safely away, Bodai said, ‘Interesting, don’t you think?’
Hatu glanced at his master and waited for a moment to see if the question had been rhetorical or if the old man actually sought his opinion. Finally, he nodded agreement.
‘What do you judge from that?’ asked Bodai.
Hatu thought about that question for a moment, then said, ‘They’re looking for someone, or they’re worried about strangers, perhaps both. The manner in which they questioned you, brother, makes me think that the Church of the One is concerned about something, and that the king is supporting them.’ He shrugged.
Bodai nodded once. ‘Look around, what do you see?’
Hatu did a quick survey of the long street. When they neared the plaza, he
