Free Treason's Shore by Sherwood Smith

of Sartor had seen fit to deny Iasca Leror. Then he would have had to find some way to pay them. “Thank you, Dag Signi. Thank you. And yes, you have my permission to travel through my kingdom. With my good will and my gratitude. I will write an order to that effect, but will you not stay at least for the Restday drum?”
    She bowed her head in gratitude. The branches of the Tree connected to the great trunk of life, though individual leaves could not perceive their place in the whole. Here in this room had stood the only three people who carried a life passion for Inda. She would remove one of them for a time, so that the other two would the more easily discover an accommodation. In the meantime, she would do some good in the world.

Chapter Five
    T HE Venn had been gone a full month before the Idayagans finally emerged from their various retreats and poked their way tentatively into the ruined harbor below Trad Varadhe.
    One of the sailors was a squint-eyed, skinny fellow in a crimson knitted hat who claimed to be from Khanerenth by way of the Nob. He dressed like an east coast sailor. When cherished pieces of scouts, cutters, and even a couple of schooners began to appear from burial in gardens, hiding places in attics and basements and caves and stables, he pitched in to help in the rebuilding.
    The ships had to be finished out at sea. The harvest was in before the first schooner was ready to sail.
    “Maybe the damn Marlovans will stick to their word and let us go,” the captain of the schooner said to those gathered on the dock, as out on the water his sons and nephew led the work party in rattling down the shrouds.
    “Sure haven’t smelled them on the wind,” one of the other captains joked, which brought the expected guffaws and some spitting over the rail.
    “The One-Eyed Jarl is gone down south,” someone else reported in a knowing voice, though Camarend Tya-Vayir’s departure had hardly been a secret, and the subsequently increased patrols of his seemingly endless men underscored what would happen if Idayago tried any trouble while he was gone.
    “Well, I’m for Bren,” the captain declared, looking at those who’d brought their gear to the dock in hopes of being picked for the first ship out of harbor. “See what the rest of the world has been doing since the pirates tied us down. Right now there’s enough north in that east wind that we should raise the Bren Harbor by New Year’s if we sail on the tide. Now, who’s volunteering? Because there ain’t no pay this trip out.”
    No, but everyone with a hand up was hoping to make instant money buying long-needed goods and bringing them back to sell.
    The captain chose first among those who had helped work on the ship, one of whom was the squint-eyed fellow whose broad forehead and pointed chin reminded one of a rodent. He’d worked hard but kept to himself.
    They launched without the least trouble—not a whiff of a horse-tailed warrior or his mount riding down from the ruined castle or thundering over the hills above the harbor.
    As the ship beat out into the open sea, the captain went through his new crew himself, learning names and skills.
    When he came to the squint-eyed one, he said, “Don’t tell me. You’re a shipmaster. I saw the way you were runnin’ that crew with the standing rigging. So you want to take the deck o’ nights?”
    “Suits me fine.”
    “Name?”
    “Rat,” said Barend. “Everyone always calls me Rat.”

    Inda woke to the echo of a shout. Warning?
    He sat up, breathing hard. The room was cold. No, he was wet—salt spray?
    “Inda.” Tdor’s voice was hoarse, and he had a vague sense of repetition. “You are here, in the royal city. There are no pirates. There is nobody named Rig. Inda? Hear me?”
    “Tdor?” He caught himself before exclaiming, “What are you doing here?” He clawed a hand through his sweaty, tangled hair and mumbled, “Thought I was on Walic’s ship again.”
    “Go back to sleep. Dawn