Imperial promises. Where Chadfallow sailed, Magad's word was kept. Rose should have guessed the doctor would be tossed into the bargain.
Chadfallow himself, however, looked stunned. His eyes were fixed on the captain, his face visibly paled. He made no move to enter the carriage.
“Rose,” he said.
The carriage driver, holding the door once again, began to tremble. From the folds of her hood, Oggosk laughed.
“Climb in, Doctor,” said Rose. And then, with a glance at Bolutu: “If you don't mind the company.”
Chadfallow didn't move.
“Of course, you won't have the use of the stateroom this time,” Rose added. “That goes to Isiq and his family.”
“But there's some mistake,” said Chadfallow. “You were in the Pellurids.”
“I was,” said Rose. “But that is not your concern.”
“You cannot have been given the Chathrand.”
Rose pitched forward, rage contorting his features. Oggosk touched his arm. The captain twitched in her direction, then paused and sat back. One finger stabbed out at Chadfallow.
“We're ashore, Doctor, where your tongue is your own. But tomorrow we sail. Remember that. For I am the captain of the Great Ship. And if you mean to board her, I warn you, envoy though you be: on the water there's no law but mine. The law of Nilus Rotheby Rose. There's a thorn in that name, and a bee-sting, and a blade: my kin knew what they were about when they named me Nilus—dagger. Climb in!”
“No,” said Chadfallow, slowly shaking his head. “I won't sail with you, no.”
Their eyes met. Rose looked caught between satisfaction and offense.
“Well,” he said at last, “that is between you and your Emperor. Don't expect me to beg. Driver!”
The driver abruptly shrank three inches, his knees buckling.
“Drive on, you dumb, staring, scrofulous cur!”
Moments later the carriage was vanishing around the corner of the street. Chadfallow stood motionless, alarmed as he could not remember being in his life. When the porters reached the tavern door with his sea chest he did not know what to tell them.
A Natural Scholar
1 Vaqrin 941
6:40 a.m .
After the Eniel rounded the headland, Pazel spent a dismal hour on the pier. The fishermen took a brief interest in him, told him life ashore was better here than in sprawling Etherhorde, where boys were snatched in broad daylight by the Flikkermen and chained to looms in the clothing mills. One old man even offered him breakfast. Before Pazel could accept, however, a shout of “Crawlies! Crawlies!” had gone up around the wharf, and the men stampeded for shore. Pazel sat shivering, working old nails out of the pier and tossing them into the bay, all the while silently cursing the name of Ignus Chadfallow.
The man was a liar, and Pazel his lifelong fool. In Ormael, where Pazel had lived with his mother and sister in a stone house overlooking the city, he had thought Chadfallow magnificent and kind. His own father, a sea captain, had brought the doctor for his first visit when Pazel was but six, introducing him to the family as “our distinguished friend from Etherhorde, city of kings.” After presenting his wife, Suthinia, and daughter, Neda, to the doctor, he gestured to Pazel and boomed: “That is my son, Chadfallow—a quick wit, and a natural scholar.” Pazel turned scarlet from the praise, although he had something else in mind for his future than books and learning. He wanted to sail on his father's ship.
Chadfallow was one of the few Arquali to have set foot in Ormael since the end of the Second Sea War. His deep voice and elegant strange clothes left Pazel speechless with admiration. For years he pictured Arqual as a land of soft-spoken gentlemen in waistcoats.
Six months after presenting Chadfallow to his family, Captain Gregory Pathkendle sailed out of Ormael on a scouting mission and never returned. Some terrible and total accident, it was supposed. A general dismay gripped the city. Sailors' widows left gifts on the
Chadfallow himself, however, looked stunned. His eyes were fixed on the captain, his face visibly paled. He made no move to enter the carriage.
“Rose,” he said.
The carriage driver, holding the door once again, began to tremble. From the folds of her hood, Oggosk laughed.
“Climb in, Doctor,” said Rose. And then, with a glance at Bolutu: “If you don't mind the company.”
Chadfallow didn't move.
“Of course, you won't have the use of the stateroom this time,” Rose added. “That goes to Isiq and his family.”
“But there's some mistake,” said Chadfallow. “You were in the Pellurids.”
“I was,” said Rose. “But that is not your concern.”
“You cannot have been given the Chathrand.”
Rose pitched forward, rage contorting his features. Oggosk touched his arm. The captain twitched in her direction, then paused and sat back. One finger stabbed out at Chadfallow.
“We're ashore, Doctor, where your tongue is your own. But tomorrow we sail. Remember that. For I am the captain of the Great Ship. And if you mean to board her, I warn you, envoy though you be: on the water there's no law but mine. The law of Nilus Rotheby Rose. There's a thorn in that name, and a bee-sting, and a blade: my kin knew what they were about when they named me Nilus—dagger. Climb in!”
“No,” said Chadfallow, slowly shaking his head. “I won't sail with you, no.”
Their eyes met. Rose looked caught between satisfaction and offense.
“Well,” he said at last, “that is between you and your Emperor. Don't expect me to beg. Driver!”
The driver abruptly shrank three inches, his knees buckling.
“Drive on, you dumb, staring, scrofulous cur!”
Moments later the carriage was vanishing around the corner of the street. Chadfallow stood motionless, alarmed as he could not remember being in his life. When the porters reached the tavern door with his sea chest he did not know what to tell them.
A Natural Scholar
1 Vaqrin 941
6:40 a.m .
After the Eniel rounded the headland, Pazel spent a dismal hour on the pier. The fishermen took a brief interest in him, told him life ashore was better here than in sprawling Etherhorde, where boys were snatched in broad daylight by the Flikkermen and chained to looms in the clothing mills. One old man even offered him breakfast. Before Pazel could accept, however, a shout of “Crawlies! Crawlies!” had gone up around the wharf, and the men stampeded for shore. Pazel sat shivering, working old nails out of the pier and tossing them into the bay, all the while silently cursing the name of Ignus Chadfallow.
The man was a liar, and Pazel his lifelong fool. In Ormael, where Pazel had lived with his mother and sister in a stone house overlooking the city, he had thought Chadfallow magnificent and kind. His own father, a sea captain, had brought the doctor for his first visit when Pazel was but six, introducing him to the family as “our distinguished friend from Etherhorde, city of kings.” After presenting his wife, Suthinia, and daughter, Neda, to the doctor, he gestured to Pazel and boomed: “That is my son, Chadfallow—a quick wit, and a natural scholar.” Pazel turned scarlet from the praise, although he had something else in mind for his future than books and learning. He wanted to sail on his father's ship.
Chadfallow was one of the few Arquali to have set foot in Ormael since the end of the Second Sea War. His deep voice and elegant strange clothes left Pazel speechless with admiration. For years he pictured Arqual as a land of soft-spoken gentlemen in waistcoats.
Six months after presenting Chadfallow to his family, Captain Gregory Pathkendle sailed out of Ormael on a scouting mission and never returned. Some terrible and total accident, it was supposed. A general dismay gripped the city. Sailors' widows left gifts on the
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