Ch: 101 One If By Land, Two If By Sea
Sunny and pleasant, with lush grass and thick hedge rows around three sides, it was a fine pasture. It would have been a marvelous home site. Close to the road and right beside the bustling market ward, but it was as wet and squishy under foot as advertised.
Shai parked the mystery machine across the entrance once all the gang was assembled by the road. Gary, Dannyl and Liam climbed the trees anchoring the hedgerows and strung lines at head height across the frontage.
They draped canvas sheets on their ropes, concealing the meadow from curious eyes while Gary and the kids went inside to do… whatever. Herlick and Bannock were dressed in civilian clothes, suitable for a country fair. Herlick in flowing, colorful skirts and a snug bodice slashed with vibrant silks. Bannock wore loose striped pants and a sash of cobalt blue with a loose billowy muslin shirt and a shearling wool vest, painted in a riot of swirling abstract shapes. They stood ‘guard’ with Khan and Luna, also dressed in feast day, colorful finery.
The horses and ponies grazed on the commons, under Annie’s supervision as a small crowd gathered to watch the doings.
Music drifted over the makeshift curtain, sweet and whimsical. More than one local took a friendly hand and danced a turn or two around the open green of the gate market.
After a few minutes the curtain parted and the small blue cart rolled inside, along with the horses and ponies. The ‘guards’ trooped in and slid the curtain closed behind themselves.
When the curtain came down, a small canvas pavilion stood in the back corner, where the meadow dropped off into one of the many canals. A simple pier jutted out into the water, composed of piles driven into the mud and wooden decking lashed on with rope.
The front of the meadow was ‘closed off’ by a wall of canvas tents. A gap between tents marked the gate to the makeshift compound, secured with two tall poles and a simple rope fence on stakes. Colorful rags were knotted to the line, trailing in the breeze.
All the horses and ponies stayed in the meadow, while the people were simply gone.
The small boat glided over the still water silently, propelled by some gift or magic unknown. A tall man sat at the tiller, clad in fanciful and colorful pirate regalia. His crew of colorful scoundrels bore silly toy weapons and ridiculous feathered hats.
“You had a boat in your basement… and now we are going to dock and make a scene… the costumes are part of some elaborate plan no doubt? Some subtle cue to flush our prey into the open?” Bannock asked, while Herlick just smiled and enjoyed the ride.
“Not exactly…” The steersman in the outrageous red silk finery and wide feathered hat said calmly. “I promised Wilford and Amy we’d sing ‘Fanananastic Voyage’ again.” He winked at his tiny child, while she stuck her tongue out at him. “This seems the right time, and the right place.”
“Tis past time ye were promoted tae first mate, lover… Though me cabin boy, ye will always be… in me dastardly pirate heart.” Shai called happily from her seat amidships. “Nara dinnae ken wahe she be missing!”
Becky was in the bow, her wildfire colored skirts flying in the breeze. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” She called, happily leaning on the bowsprit, carved in The chocolate brown horse’s regal likeness. “Annie has to try this!”
“Order on deck!” Bos’n Amy shouted. “Beat to quarters! Seahorse is rigged for action cap’n!” Wilford began a slow, four four drumbeat, chugging along beside Shai.
“Corporal Dannyl! Sergeant Becky, Tae yer stations ye skaliwags! I’ll hear guitar an harp ringin out broadside! Gary, where be me bass…? She shot him a dirty look for slacking off.
“We leave nae booties unshaken this day.” Shai’s bells and violin were hard at work already.
With a shrug Gary handed the tiller off to Herlick, as a bass appeared in his hands. “Just steer, I’ll handle the rest.”
He began thumping and strumming an infectious beat on his instrument, bit his lip and started bobbing his head like a chicken in a corn crib.
The little boat was twenty feet from swept prow and bold horsie figurehead, to blunt aft end and rudder. Benches and seats were arranged to allow enough open space to move about, but not much more. Only near the tiller and right at the bow was there open space.
Their wide beam and shallow draught let them slip up the weedy canals and channels silently. The little boat surged a bit faster, pushing through lotus and water lilly beds.
Around a sharp bend, they cut out into the estuary, bobbing slightly on open water. “Bannock, do me a favor, pull that handle on the deck behind the figurehead. Pull hard, it’s hefty.”
The young knight gave a grunt of effort, as the deck hatch lifted, pulling a bank of bronze resonator disks into view from the depths. “I’m working on a counterweight or something… stand back, it’s loud.”
Tawny and Dannyl evacuated the rear facing front seats, as the disks buzzed into life. “Ok gang, let’s make an entrance. Remember, we are the official representatives of Wheatford in this town…”
He ran his mad, giddy gaze over his assembled band of villains and cutthroats. “We hit them hard in the harbor, ‘Fantastic Voyage’, then we go disco in town. Becky, Amy, ‘Dancing Queen’ is next up, you two sing lead. Let’s make some memories!”
#
Abel was having a fine time, old master Hires had been in competition with him in the goat cheese game since he moved to town, from his uplands home.
The handsome young goatherd had swept the farmer’s niece off her feet and married her within a year of first asking her to dance. Now they were expecting their first child and the rivalry remained heated between the two cheese clans.
“Hires!” He shouted at the gate. “I’ve come to take that hack kneed, sway backed, impotent old billy goat off your hands. Shift yourself, you lazy old reprobate.”
The old man came scooting around the corner with his staff in hand, ready to chew horse hooves and spit out the shoes.
“Best not be jesting with me you young pup, I’ve little use for the likes of you, sneaking scheming rascal!” He fumed at the younger man, brandishing his gnarled and weathered staff.
Neighbors peeked out curtains or sat down on their porches to watch the rival cheesemen go at it again.
“I know you can’t shift that sour rancid sludge you call cheese, so I’ll buy that billy from you, poor as he is, for honest coin, mind you.” Able smirked, jungling his pouch with a cocky swagger.
“Coin? You? Did you dig up some forgotten horde in your filthy, pest riddled pastures?” The old man snapped.
“Gods know no sane person would buy your pasty mess, lest they need wall putty that stinks like ass.”
They quarreled bitterly for a few minutes, before the old man reluctantly brought the younger back to the barn. With much loud complaining.
#
“Tea or cider lad? Shouted meself hoarse. It’s tea with honey for me.” Hires relaxed into his chair with a pleased sigh.
“Good fight today, let’s keep the energy up on the way out. Maybe set the dogs on me when I go.” Able suggested, pouring a cider from the small keg by the barn door.
“Good Idea, I’ll send Billybuck to ya later with Timmy so he doesn’t spook. You really are buying I hope, we could use some hard coin…” Hires’ grin nearly made his lips bleed when the bronze half hit the table.
“Paid off in full as of today uncle Hires.” The young man said with pure joy. “Some fools rented my low pasture for hard money and a lot of it. Maddest thing I ever heard of, but there is the coin.”
“Apprentice your son to me when it’s time, lad. We can end the ‘feud’ and have a feel good family narrative, maybe a merger.” Old Hires mulled that and pulled out his dream book.
“Yes, the latest gossip suggests a rich harvest this season, a positive hopeful message will grow brand loyalty…”
“Yes, I agree” Able said, pulling out his notebook of marketing ideas. “This storyline is not boosting sales anymore next spring festival we’ll tease it with a little family row...”
They wrapped up the marketing brainstorm, when a commotion began outside. Music, from the harbor?
#
Low, wide and long, she had a wide stern, a steeply raked bow and the most striking figurehead of a brown horse with a silver mane. No sails or sweeps propelled her shining, varnished hull of red oak through the water.
Only the thrum of strange music accompanied her slow passage along the waterfront. A sweet feminine voice rose along with the music.
I'm the captain of this vessel
We wanna take you on a cruise
All around the land, music is at hand (huh)
We wanna play it for you
(You see) we want to be (we want to be)
Your crew of entertainers (jam to the music) jam to the beat (jam, yeah)
Don't let nothing restrain you (uh-huh)
Low, throbbing bass and drums slipped into the unsuspecting shoppers and merchant’s ears and backbones.
The sweet, ringing children’s voices chanting their strange, aggressively happy lyrics dragged many out of their shops and stalls to see and listen.
We just want you to feel
Nothing but pleasure (pleasure), musical pleasure (yeah, yeah)
Our music is very real (it's really real)
Truly a treasure (a treasure), musical treasure
Dressed in costumes suitable for a mummer’s farce they pranced, danced, played and sang on their little boat, cruising the waterfront and disturbing the people’s backsides.
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Slowly and carefully, the little boat hove to an empty pier. Becky and Shai looped cables around the massive iron cleats built into the pier and they all clambered off, taking solos, as players dropped out while they climbed.
Luna slipped away to meet the harbor master, while the band played on and got themselves ready to march.
Khan carried Wilford and his recorder, while Tawny took Amy on one hip and a tambourine on the other. Her white veil fluttered in front of her smile.
The mad little troupe started up a new tune moments after Luna rejoined them. Light and gay, they danced up the springtime streets, only the lightest touches of magic threaded through the band. Gary and Shai let loose just enough to tie the band into a rock solid unit.
Solid enough to get tricky. “Liam, take over on bass!” Gary sang, as the band shifted the tempo and moved into ‘Dancing Queen’.
Liam, always reliable Liam, stole the bass right out of his hands during a violin solo from Shai and slipped right back in on the next bar. Gary drew a pair of small mallets and grinned, as his torso developed a severe case of washboard everything.
“Oh gods… I forgot about that thing!” Becky laughed, when she should have been singing…
Ooh
You can dance
You can jive
Having the time of yo-...
Amy was not happy to be left out in the cold. She glared at Becky and Gary, snorted and took it from the next measure, singing a loud and unapologetic lead.
Becky had to scramble to keep up with her tiny sister, Gary gave his high preistess a run up, with a fanciful trill on his insane musical breastplate.
Ooh
You can dance
You can jive
Having the time of your life…
Amy swanned through the band with her tiny tambourine, beating the living hell out of the thing and shaking the cobblestones with her sweet, high, stratospheric soprano.
Amy took that song in her four year old mouth, chewed it up and had the audience begging for more, like baby birds.
Khan, Luna, Bannock and Herlick got the full brunt of the spells and charms tying the little group into a single musical entity.
Gary bumped by, mumbling something about; ‘...owing me my due all this time…Got to pay up…’
The four warriors had felt his effects in battle, confounding his foes and boosting allies… This felt more like being dragged behind a runaway horse… through a field of pillows and cushions; violent, disorienting, uncontrolled and strangely exciting.
Before they really understood what was happening, they found themselves at the civic hall, making an announcement.
“Helloooo, Port Clement, we are your embassy and representatives from the duchy and duke of Wheatford…”
The boy sang out in the square, amplifying his voice and the music with the strange disks set in their instruments.
“The Sweet Tooth guild, that’s us…” He said with a wink “...has come to help you… with your trouble…” He spanked a dramatic chord, letting a little of his gift tickle the crowd, just a hint. Familiar Stranger he cranked all the way up, shooting for the moon.
He waited just a moment, til someone invariably asked…
“What trouble?” She was a middle aged lady, with brown hair sweeping gray at the temples and a ready smile, now hidden behind a concerned scowl.
Gary blew her a kiss and smiled. “Glad you asked… I said I’m glad you asked, young lady. You got troubles… right here in Port Clement… Troubles with a capital T and that rhymes with C, that stands for Chocolate!”
He chanted in loose verse, dragging one townie after another into his web of foolishness.
I say, I’m a chocolate man myself,
Certainly, mighty proud I say,
I'm always mighty proud to say it
I consider that the flavors I savor
On a warm summer day are golden
Helps you cultivate horse sense,
A cool head and a keen eye,
Did you ever take and try to find
A bon bon or a truffle out in the street
One that’s smooth and not too sweet?
Takes judgment, brains and maturity,
to mill that chocolate smooth and rich
In the candy game, I say that any boob
Can take and shove nibs through a mill
Sugar it up, dye it brown and mold it down,
And I call that sloth! The first big step… I say,
The first big step on the road
To the depths of deg-ra-dation!
He kept up his rapid fire patter as the local authorities began to shift themselves.
The four veteran warriors found themselves wandering the periphery of the crowd, passing out chocolates to grasping hands… from baskets that the kids kept refilling.
Whenever one ran dry, Liam, Shai or Gary was there, pushing a full basket into their hands. They passed out hundreds of shiny wrappers, bearing the chocolate brown profile and silver mane of the guild mascot.
You ladies, you never had it so good,
Good chocolate I say, good chocolate
So smooth, rich and sweet
Sweet like springtime cream,
Unwrap one and try our treat
You may say it’s just a dream…
“What’s all this then?” A tall man in Order’s silver armor came stomping out, cutting off the music… “Ohh gods… Wheatford…”
Bannock hustled over, flushing bright red to find themselves facing a peer, while out of uniform. “Brother, I am justiciar knight Bannock…”
They passed over a scroll tube and the rest of their discussion took place out of hearing… many gestures were made… most suggesting that the boy suffered under some form of madness.
The older knight began to make curt, aggressive movements in Bannock’s direction, but only for a moment.
At Herlick’s request, the band wound down, they continued passing out samples from their seemingly inexhaustible supply.
Soon, they were all marched inside to a conference room with the stressed older knight and Bannock. Who now seemed to be enjoying the game just a little.
“We were told to expect an Adventure party… Ginger Dreadnought… not the Sweet Tooth guild of chocolatiers.” He said without preamble, the look on his face suggested extreme distaste.
“What justiciar knight Johanes meant to say is ‘Hello, I am justiciar knight Johannes’…” Bannock snapped, posture immaculately correct and wearing the colorful pirate costume with all the dignity of a mortician at graveside.
“My apologies, senior knight Bannock…” He ground his teeth and clenched his way through a passable introduction, under some form of duress judging by his posture.
It went on like that for a while, Bannock rode the older knight like a rented pony and sent him scurrying with a smile that said they derived some satisfaction from the exchange.
“We should expect a formal invitation from the duke within the week, until then we make ourselves useful and nose around.” Bannock said with satisfaction, once the older knight was gone.
“I still don’t understand coming in like this and making a scene under an assumed name…”
“Oh, we are the Sweet Tooth guild too, and we have an ax to grind here in town. Right now, it’s time for our costume changes.” Gary began to pull clothes out for each of them, common clothes in muted colors.
“We dress in normal clothes and stroll out under my sneakiest gift, we go to the Adventure compound and check in as Ginger Dreadnought.” Smiles spread through the group as they caught his drift.
“Now there are two groups in town, the colorful candy pirates, and the scary, mysterious Adventure band. We can work some jobs while we nose around and still make fools of ourselves.”
“No one will be fooled by that…” Bannock complained. “Only an idiot would fall for something so obvious.”
“No one needs to be fooled… just confused. Even a slight doubt or mystery will become gossip fodder and grow into a monster.” Herlick chimed in helpfully. “In the commons, accuracy is a distant second place to juicy, on the gossip priorities.”
Even Shai found Gary’s expanded ability to manipulate perceptions to be strange and disturbing. Walking through a town of strangers, where everyone nodded as though you were a distant neighbor, vaguely known, was a novel experience.
Shai, accustomed to being recognized everywhere, found herself unnerved by the vacant smiles of strangers.
“Tis uncanny, this be how ye lived yer old life, the people’s eyes did slide past thee… I see it now.” She hugged him close as they walked, making his spell falter a little.
#
The town itself was a marvel to the young travelers. All the major streets running east and west were canals. Sidewalks and colonnades paralleled the canals on one side, with a well maintained tow path on the other.
Boats large and small plied the waters, usually towed by horse or mule in the case of barges. Other craft were pulled by men, rowed or poled manually. Some few, like Gary’s boat, had no visible propulsion, while others were familiar powered. A few dolphins, a colossal swan and even a crab familiar towed boats up the waterways.
The band watched in wonder as the city bustled around them. “Clement is a trade city,” Luna lectured quietly as they walked. “...things move faster here because of that.”
The Adventure compound had a well maintained gate and a watchman posted in a little hut beside the portal. His shack also overlooked the canal and a side branch with a gate and lock of its own through the wall of the compound.
“Oh! Nice, canal access, that’s clever.” Gary enthused. “That is going to make things easier…”
#
Watchman at the Adventure compound gate was a fine job for a pensioner. Bring in a bit of coin for hanging out and watching the people go by, there were no complaints from Lubu Mbwele. He was still among the finest archers in town, even if he couldn’t run with the youngsters anymore.
Yes, gate guard was a fine job in a quiet and uneventful town.
Lubu had sleek, shiny skin, glossy as a polished ebony statue, only his short cap of white hair gave a clue to his advanced age. His armor was well fitted and cared for, his spear sharp and polished bright, the very image of efficiency and decorum.
When the band in common clothes showed up and flashed badges, he breezed them in without question, just another day in his little office.
#
His quiet afternoon and pleasant evening collapsed as guild master Haviland stomped up to his booth and rapped sharply.
“Lubu, you asshole, I was supposed to get warning when Mikkel’s ducklings arrived… Now I look like the asshole.” Dirk’s angular, pleasant face was a little red and he was puffing and fuming in the fading light.
“Those kids I just let in? They were just… I never really asked…” He muttered, confused by his own hazy memory of them.
“Thanks for all the warning… wanna know what they are doing right now? Building a fucking inn… Yeah, a house, in my courtyard… no… you stay here… you have guard duty.” The guildmaster snapped.
“I’m off to dance with a pretty young girl and have a bath in the hot springs… stay alert Lubu… stay fucking alert…” He strode back into the darkening compound, waving a farewell finger at his retired patrol leader, now gate guard.
“Fuck you Lubu, see you at the inn after your shift.”
“Sorry if we got you in trouble bro…” A soft voice said from the shadows. “We were trying to keep a low profile…” A pair of young men were standing by the gate, cloaked and hooded against the rising mist and fog. The larger one spoke again.
“We’re going to get our boat and see to our horses, we’ll be back before eighth bell.”
“Mikkel’s ducklings, are you? I owe that dandelion tuft more than I care to remember…” He chuckled warmly and leaned on his spear. “Master Haviland will cool off, as long as you get back before I seal the gate, all is well.”
The pair, one tall and one short, strolled into the fog, following the canal and chatting quietly in the gathering dark.
“...I like this town, even though there’s no surf. Do people surf here? I mean clearly not here, here…”
“What’s ‘smurf’ some new dance?” Liam asked, unwilling to assume anything now.
“Waves, big rolling ocean waves… you jump on a board and ride them… well I don’t, gotta have two legs…” Liam was staring at him blankly.
“So no surfboards…. Or no waves?” The bigger man asked as the lamplighters went about their business.
“Like the waves on the sea?” He gestured into the fog, towards the shallow expanse of placid water.
“Yeah… no. I’ll show you someday… maybe.” He mumbled, distracted by the streetlamps. In Wheatford, only a few streets had glowstones mounted on poles. The civic square could be lit, a few other major intersections and the city gates, but that was all. Otherwise, citizens carried lanterns or strolled by moonlight.
Here, as the fog came up, each business had oil lamps mounted to their facades. Similar oil lamps stood on iron lamp poles or hung from brackets on wooden posts at every intersection. Colored lamps indicated canal locks and bridges, hundreds of little lamps had to be filled and lit.
A legion of youngsters were out and about, some filling lamps, others igniting them, wielding long poles with smoldering wicks.
“Orphans?” Gary asked, suspecting the answer. Liam just nodded, his big friend sighed deeply. “They don’t get paid for it I bet…” Liam’s blank look said it all.
“Most cities need lamplighters and such as well. We, in Wheatford are fortunate that we only have sanitation and agricultural labor to do.” Liam said, off handedly.
“As lastyears, you and I don’t have to draw duties, Becky, Ivy and Dannyl are skipping a lot of crap jobs while traveling with us… I hated sanitation duty.”
“So, how does that work, they assign jobs and we have to do them?” Liam just nodded again as they walked in the fog.
“You really never learned anything…” The young warrior sighed. “Orphans earn their keep with civic labor and training for War and indenture.” He shrugged again.
“That means tending the trashworms in the midden pits, hauling night soil and waste, planting, weeding, harvesting, typical labor. Those of us who will be indentured, are free to concentrate on training and survival skills for our final year before Contracting.”
“I’m gonna find some things I don’t like in this town aren’t I?” He asked his brother.
“Yes, very much so. That is why you will be attended at all times. None of you will be wandering off alone.” Liam said firmly.
#
They just walked for a while, enjoying the early darkness and muffled quiet. Pools of golden lamplight were not illumination, they were simply guides. Cool, misty shadows engulfed the people just a step or two away from the lamps. Living men and women drifted like ghosts, passing near and sharing snippets of conversation at random before slipping away.
“I grew up with fog like this… smells like home.” Gary whispered as the scent of the water got even stronger.
The duo thumped onto the pier and untied Seahorse in the gloom. Gary pushed off and a subtle thrum shook the small vessel.
“One of my ‘sandwich motors’ powers it, so we just gotta steer, I’ll control the speed.” Gary whispered, feeling sneaky for no reason.
“That’s great…” Liam said, loudly enough to ruin the mood. “But it’s darker than the inside of a tomb. Even without this ‘fog’ as you call it. Never had to chew my air before I breathed it before.”
“Oh yeah, I can’t see anything… hold on while I get our pilot.” Gary sat down on the steersman’s bench, tucked the tiller under his arm and pulled that massive flute out of his sleeve with a smile.
“I got a bat in my belfry and she knows the way. Play along if you like brother, take a cruise with me…”
He closed his eyes and leaned back with the tiller and began to play low and soft as the boat pushed out into the murk.