I leaned against the railing, the rough wood scratching my bare arms. The sun was rising over the horizon, and I had not slept a wink. It was not that I had been uncomfortable — our hammocks below decks were fine. I simply couldn't get used to the floor moving beneath me. It wasn't too bad. Scarcely noticeable, in fact, until you lay still and there was nothing to do but think about the gentle rocking motion.
So I had tossed and turned all night and, when the sunlight had started peeking through the cracks in the deck, I had crept upstairs to watch the sun rise over Anglia. And that meant I was alone with the few crew members who had been on the night shift. One of them lumbered up on his break and leant beside me, far too close for comfort.
"I'm told your exotic friend is married," he told me. "You're not going to disappoint me too, are you?"
I eyed him sidelong, picking out the recent bruise on his chin. I wondered exactly what he meant by 'told.'
"Her name is Melia," I corrected coldly. "And yes, I am."
He spat out a wad of tobacco into the river water. "Taken, huh?"
"No, I wouldn't say that. I'm just not interested in lecherous pieces of goatshit."
A shadow crossed his face. He wasn't unpleasant to look at, but the inside of him was a different affair. "Come on, girl. There's no need to be nasty. I haven't done anything to you."
I looked away from him indifferently. "Cheap guilt-trip tricks won't work on me because I don't give a shit about being a good person. Go away."
The man's knuckles turned white, his grip on the railing vicious. He had no intentions of leaving, that was certain. So ... could I beat him in a fight? If I had a sword, yes, but I still had a weakness when it came to fist and feet. Even as I wondered that, the man edged closer still.
"Last warning," I said breezily. "Scat."
He smirked like he was about to do something stupid, and I had just moved my weight onto my toes when we were interrupted by footsteps behind us. We both turned around to see the newcomer. He was short, golden-haired, with dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept either.
"Kingfisher wants to speak to you," Glyn said.
"He does?" my harasser asked suspiciously.
Next came an impatient shrug of his shoulders, almost flawless in its delivery. "Yeah."
The crewman squinted at the boy. Clearly, he wasn't convinced, but he didn't want to risk ignoring his captain. He stalked away in the direction of the cabin, every heavy footstep setting the deck to groaning. If those still in their hammocks below had managed to sleep through the dawn, they were certainly awake now.
But he was gone, and I smiled to myself. Peace and tranquillity were restored, and I went back to staring at the sunrise. The water was now stained orange and red, and the sun had nearly parted ways with the horizon. There was enough light for Nightmare and the white stallion to see each other, and so they pawed at the dirt and flashed their teeth at each other. Nickers rang out as the other horses voiced their unease. There were a score of them, so it was not a quiet affair.
Every boat on the river was towed by horses because they were a lot cheaper to keep than oarsmen. There were two working to drag the Red Herring against the current at any one time, and another half dozen plodded behind their colleagues, ready to take their turns. Our horses were tied behind them. The two stallions were as far apart as physically possible, and somehow they still found ways to taunt each other.
"How long do you think we have?" I asked without looking at Glyn.
He was grinning — I could hear it in his voice. "Less than a minute. Fen was stirring when I left, though... We could go and find him."
"Belowdecks?" I wrinkled up my nose. "No, I have a better idea than that."
And without further ado, I hoisted myself onto the railing and swung my legs overboard. There was a slight ledge on the outside, and I rested my heels on it while I measured the gap between the boat and the bank. Two paces. All I had to do was step. Then I was standing on solid ground and Glyn was gaping at me like an idiot.
"What are you —"
I cut across him impatiently, "Are you coming or what?"
And of course, jumping ship was preferable to having his face rearranged, so Glyn climbed the railing rather gracelessly and jumped for it. His legs were shorter, so I grabbed his shirt and helped pull him onto the bank. Still, he landed awkwardly and had to brush mud off his breeches.
By the time he had picked himself up, the boat was already a dozen paces away and we had to hurry to keep pace with it. The white stallion was at the very back of the line, highly aggravated, so I gave him a wide berth. I was not a horse whisperer. Nightmare may have been fond of me, but his rival was not.
Glyn, on the other hand, brushed alongside him, running a hand down his neck. They got along well. It was Glyn's job, after all, to groom and feed him. He was grinning as he murmured, "I call him Blizzard."
I nodded amiably. It was no 'Nightmare,' and it was a mouthful, but it would do. "What's the Cambrian word?"
"He's an Anglian horse — he needs an Anglian name," he sighed. "The lordling called him Ghost, you know. It's engraved into his saddle."
"Well, I like yours better," I assured him. 'Ghost' had a nice ring to it, but there was something too substantial, too real about that stallion. Perhaps he was quieter and more other-worldly when Nightmare wasn't around.
He was beside the pretty palomino mare Melia had brought from Duskos, who was staring mournfully back the way we had come. We kept walking, passing the assassin's horses. They had been bred for speed and endurance, so they were tall and slim and long-legged. Next was Glyn's chestnut pony chewing on his bit, standing alongside Fendur's light bay who was as alert and quiet as a sentinel. And then, finally, at the front — my Amber.
The whole point of taking the boat had been to avoid long days in the saddle, but ... a few minutes wouldn't hurt. The horses only had to walk. They got to rest when they stopped the boat for three hours in the midday heat and another three hours at midnight. So I pulled myself onto Amber's back with the slightest trace of guilt.
The crewman reappeared on deck just as Glyn ducked behind Amber. He saw me and scowled, but he wouldn't come near — of that, I was sure. Amber was walking beside Nightmare, and every single crew member had seen Nightmare throw a wild tantrum when he had first been roped into the line of horses. Bucking, biting, and frothing had all featured. It had taken Temris an hour to calm him. No ... that man would not try his luck against the most vicious horse in all of Aenmia.
As if he could sense my thoughts, Nightmare let out a low nicker and stretched out his neck to nibble at my boots. I let him. That was our relationship now — mutual tolerance.
"What's that?" Glyn asked suddenly.
He was staring at the big draft horses who were waiting for a turn at pulling. I followed his line of sight, which was incredibly low — almost ground level.
"What's what?"
"There's something wrong with the undersides of their hooves," he muttered.
I was, at first, sceptical. He had most likely seen traces of a fungal infection that was known only to the most expert horsemen. "Are you sure?"
He scowled at me. "I have to pick out hooves every single day, so yes — I'm sure."
That was convincing enough. I threw my leg over Amber's back and jumped down. If I bent down, I could see the undersides of the hooves flashing with every step. And it was true, perhaps there was something odd about their appearance, but not in a way that was obvious. I wouldn't have noticed, but Glyn was a foot closer to the ground.
"We need to take a look," I decided. Together, we edged closer, watching and waiting.
Our chance came when the man leading the horses had to stop to take a piss. The whole line came to a halt, and we waited scarcely long enough for him to disappear into a bush before slinking up to the rearmost horse. Glyn picked up a back foot and rested it on his knee for inspection.
Yes, there was something wrong. The horseshoe was twice as thick as usual and strangely bulky. And when I reached over to pick at the edge, I noticed that there was a cavity in the middle of the iron. A cavity full of little resin cylinders, amber in colour. I wriggled and prodded, but I couldn't get them free. For that, the whole shoe would have to be removed.
"What in the abyss are those?" Glyn hissed. He was keeping one eye out for the man returning, but the other was squinting at the resin.
"Oh, I have an inkling," I muttered. "Put it down and keep watch for a second."
He did as I asked, while I went to the horse's chest and examined his harness. Once again, it would appear perfectly normal unless you knew what you were looking for. It was bulkier than it needed to be, and there was twice as much stitching as usual.
"Knife?" I asked him and soon felt a hilt pressed into my palm. I cut a thumb's width of stitching and used the tip of the blade to pry out what had been hidden inside — another of those resin beads, this time a bit larger.
I rolled it between a thumb and forefinger triumphantly. The knife was passed back to Glyn and then we both slipped away. Safely behind Amber, out of sight of the boat, I held it up to the sunlight and squinted. In the middle of the resin, there was a fine black powder.
So this was Kingfisher's business. He was smuggling this powder into the capital. Eight horses, each with four hooves and harness across their chests and backs. There must have been a pint of the stuff in all. I wondered just how valuable and dangerous it might be, given the lengths he had gone to hide it.
I thought of the insolence of it all, and I smiled to myself. When the boat reached a port to unload, it would be thoroughly searched for anything illicit. And they would find nothing, because the boat was indeed a red herring.
"Is that...?" Glyn trailed off, chewing on his lip.
"I don't think it's pepper," I sighed. "Can we keep this between us, for now?"
He looked up at me with those quick blue eyes. There was no blind trust, no misconceptions about my intentions. I didn't want him telling his brother, and the reasons were entirely selfish, and he knew it.
"Alright," Glyn agreed quietly. "For now."
"I wouldn't do anything to hurt him, you know. I bloodswore as much to your sister," I went on.
He inclined his head. "I know. Fen says you're going to marry when all this is done."
"Yes, well, Fendur talks too much."
"It's not true?"
"I didn't say that," I murmured, then smiled and shook my head. "Conversation for another day, I think."
I got a wry grin out of him. "I'm holding you to that."
My reply began with a harrumph. "You had better go back to sulking soon, kid, or I might start liking you."
Glyn laughed — actually laughed — aloud. We walked back towards the boat together, our investigation complete, just as the man returned from the bushes, fastening his belt. I tucked the resin bead into the pocket of my breeches.