On the Black Wind to Baldairn Motte

Part 10.

Black Zefferus sat anchored in the bay of North Port, away from the still crowded docks. Terryll and his crew had made good time, outpacing the rest of the fleet from Gaulang and unloading their cargo before most of the other ships arrived, but they were on strict orders to not leave the harbor.

"What is it they mean for us to do?" Alwyn grumbled.

It was still raining and while most of the crew had taken shelter below deck, Terryll and his first mate stood at the rail of the stern castle watching the activity in North Port.

"That rat-spear Galkmeer still has half of his men on the wrong side of the river," Terryll said. "His commanders mean to have us help ferry the rest of them over."

"Black Zefferus is no river barge, Cap'n."

"No, but she's the only ship here that can navigate the river and everyone seems to be in a mad hurry to march on Hairng and die fighting, the daft scollocs."

"Cow forners fighting sheep forners fighting swine forners; I hope they all burn in Ordryn's fiery arse, dragging us into their bloody feud like this."

Terryll shrugged. "I suspect we'll be forgotten out here. Without a king to keep everyone in order, all the lords are fighting amongst themselves. I had five different harbormasters try to tell me where to unload our cargo. One of the stinking blackspurs even tried telling me to load up a dozen horses and take them to the river crossing."

Alwyn chuckled. "Aye, I heard you tell him where he could put his horses."

"I'm not about to let horses on deck—filthy animals. As far as I'm concerned, unless Lord Verk himself or his chancellor gives us an order, we're staying right here until the armies are out of sight, and then we're gone, back to Gaulang. We don't owe fealty to anyone but the Earl and ourselves."

"Aye, Cap'n."