DRY BREAD

By Helen Davis

Page 1 of 2

With a shout and a shove the crew of the Wave Singer launched the landing skiff away from the caravel and toward Santas Harbor on the island of Latu. It was a city of trade and of wizards – and perhaps, Calias the swordmaster worried, of pirates. He searched among the ships gathered in the harbor, looking for a Adacanar's banner. The self-proclaimed ruler of the Necklace Islands had believed all the cities and ships within her waters were his for the taking, and though he was dead, his legacy was not.

And Calias had reason to be nervous. The entire reason for stopping here was contained in a single chest in the center of the boat, a shipment of magical ingrediants for Anju the Baker, and every swordman from the ship was here to guard it. Besides Calias there was his swordbrother Siron, Young Tobias, Glyver, Dynnis of the Hundred Knives, and Dynnis's two Swordsons, Silver and Kavyn. Six of the men sat around the chest, with Silver crouched the furthest away, his Frylar blood at odds with the strong magic within. But Kavyn sat on the chest, breaking a roll of yellow bread into crumbs.

"What are you doing?" Dynnis asked.

"Looking for the coin," Kavyn replied, his voice showing just a trace of the ice-locked northern land where he had been born. Tall as a reed and just as thin, he had a good reach for a swordman, but no desire to learn the blade. His pure blue eyes often watched shadows which no one else could see, reminders of the days he had spent wallowing in dreamdust before Dynnis had dragged him from the gutters and given him the undeserved honor of swordson. Loose-witted and frequently distracted, even Captain Quantas's whip could not keep him from returning to dreamdust when he had the chance. As worthless as dry bread, this gutter-whelp, no matter what Dynnis thought of him. "It's the midwinter."

As if there could be any winter in this tropical land, Calias thought, wiping a sheet of sweat from his face.

"Look sharp," Siron called, as the skiff pulled closer to one of the stone piers which thrust out like fingers into the harbor. A crowd of bearded, black-robed men gathered at the water's edge, watching the boat and the swordmen. Siron steered the boat away from them and up one of the stone-lined channels which carried the river through the town and into the harbor, but the mass of men flowed after.

"They look hungry," Glyver muttered. He fingered the green silk scarf tied around his neck, a token from a conquest in an earlier port.

"The town looks hungry," Calias replied. This was not the Santas Harbor he had seen on earlier visits, a place that seemed a perpetual fair. Gone were the bright flags and the jeweled signs which proclaimed the wonders of the pleasure shops. Gone were the gilded roof caps and the silver inlay on the doors. Gone were the dancing girls in their festive scarfs and skirts, whispering the prices for their favors. Despite the ships crowding the harbor, the town seemed withered.

"The pirates must have hit them hard," Siron said. "I've seen no sign of Prince Anis's war ships. Either the fleet has been destroyed, or the prince has pulled them away to guard his own palace."

Calias hunched his shoulders to hide his shudder. The last few ports had been lean, and Captain Quantas had been counting on finding a good price or a rich cargo here. Without it, he might not be able to feed his crew or pay off his swordmen.

More townspeople gathered on the other side of the channel, and when the boat passed beneath an arching bridge, they flowed over it. They knew what the swordmen guarded, and what it was worth.

"Loosen your blades," Calias commanded, and everyone obeyed but Kavyn. Calias laid his naked blade across his knees, and the crowd moved back. But not far.

Soon the boat came to a high, narrow building, marked not with the gold and ruby statues of bread that Calais remembered, but a faded flag with a loaf painted on it. Young Tobias and Glyver drew the boat alongside the channel and tied it securely, then Kavyn stood and lifted the small chest to his shoulder.

The crowd tensed, then parted as yellow-robed wizard stepped forward. Smirking, he lifted his hands to gather the power for a spell – then dropped them as Silver stepped in front of Kavyn and raised his face to show his moon-white skin and fog-gray eyes. As he notched an arrow in his bow, the crowd pressed back, for Frylars had the power to return twice the magic thrown at them. Silver's worth more than made up for Kavyn's worthlessness, but for the life of him, Calias could not see why Dynnis kept them both.

Without further harassment, the Swordmen entered Anju's shop. It was made narrower by long tables which lined the walls, each one piled high with loaves of bread. A wide counter stretched along the back, and behind it was a wall with a tapestry-covered door. Two oil lamps and a hole cut in the ceiling were the only source of light.

"Anju!" Calias called out in a sharp voice. "Calias of the Wave Singer has business with you!"

The tapestry shoved aside as a fat little man waddled out. His tiny eyes squinted from between folds of flesh, and painted red lips pushed out into a pout. He rubbed his doughy hands together. "Well, well. You have brought my goods at last. I'm sure you do not realize how important this is to me."

"Important enough to ask for our payment," Calias growled. The sooner this business was over, the better. He motioned for Kavyn to set down the chest. "Five hundred gold coins."

"Five hundred?" Anju's cheeks quivered as he stared at the chest.

"The price agreed upon at our last meeting. You'll make ten times that, selling your wares." Calias crossed his arms over his leather jerkin.

A look of woe draped across Anju's fat face. "But these are hard times for the people of Santas Harbor. Prince Anis, though he demands more than ever for his taxes, has opened the city to the fury of the pirates. We have been raided – not twice, not three times – but four times this past season! The men come in and drink up our wine, eat up our food, and steal our gold and women. Look at my fingers: have you ever known me to be without my rings? Look at my ears, my arms. Have you ever seen them so bare? I am a poor, poor man. Hardly anyone can afford to eat, much less order my special breads. Here – take all I have and be done with it." He pulled a pouch from his belt and emptied a handful of tarnished copper coins on the counter.

It was true that Calias had never seen Anju without his crust of gold and precious gems, but otherwise he did not appear to be starving. The Swordmaster looked at the tables. "Your shop is filled with wares."

"This?" Anju squeezed himself around the counter and between two swordmen. He picked up a loaf of bread and blew a thick layer of dust from it. Then he rapped it with his knuckles, so that it echoed the dull sound of heavy wood. "Stale carcasses of glory past, so poor that even the pirates have passed it by. I cannot afford to put out good bread."

Silver reached out a tentative hand and touched the loaf, then shook his head. There was no magic in it.

"Very well," Calias stated, squaring his shoulders. "If you cannot keep your part of the bargain, then we will take back our goods. Get the chest, Kavyn." This would be a bitter blow for the Wave Singer, but there were other ports where the shipment would bring a decent price.

But Anju's fat hand settled across the wood before Kavyn could touch it. "Oh, no, no. Let me talk to a few associates. Perhaps I could raise a portion of the funds – a goodwill gesture until we meet again. For without these ingredients, I cannot raise the money to pay you."

"And without your money the Wave Singer cannot afford to return," Calias growled. Yet partial payment was better than none. "Go find what you can – and then we shall discuss what you may have for it."

Anju smiled indulgently, a thick grin that crinkled up his pasty face. "Leave the chest here, then, and we shall meet when the sun touches the western cliff."

Calias gripped the heavy hilt of his sword and drew it out an inch. "Do you think I'm a fool, to leave this in your care? The chest comes with us."

"And you will carry it about the city with you?" Anju replied softly. "How many people saw you bring it in here? Is your life worth more than your captain's profit?"

Six swordmen – and a fool – would be able to defend themselves against a score of men, but the crowd outside had been larger than that. If the city was as poor as Anju claimed, then the risk of death would be small compared to the wealth in the chest. "Then we will stay with the chest."

"Oh, you cannot do that!" Anju cried, throwing his flabby hands in the air. "My shop is so small and your men fill it completely! There shall be no room for my customers to enter, and we shall all starve!"

"I thought you said that the people were too poor to buy your bread," Calias said evenly.

Anju hunched his shoulders and groveled. "Even the poor can find a copper for a loaf of plain bread. That's all I sell these days: plain bread. But even those customers will not come if the shop is filled with men."

"And will you object if I leave two?"

"One," Anju insisted. "This is a very small shop."

The other swordmen stared at Calias. Even to the bravest men in the world, the thought of facing a wizard alone was frightening. Not only would the chest be gone when Calias returned, but the man, no doubt, would be transformed into something small and disgusting. But there was one among them who could face a wizard's magic. "I'll leave my smallest man," Calias said with a gesture toward the Frylar. "I know that you'll not work your tricks against him."

Anju's face dropped for an instant, betraying his intentions, but he smoothly picked it up again. "Very well. When the sun touches the western cliff, we shall meet here."

#

Leaving the boat tied up beside Anju's bakery, Calias took his men across the bridge to an open-air tavern where they could still watch the shop. Although it was the middle of the day, the place was busy, with three serving girls moving between the tables. Calias picked the table with the best view of the channel and then, with a rattle of his sword, cleared it of customers. Before long a pock-marked serving girl came by with mugs and a plate of twisted pastries.

Calias looked into the greasy liquid inside the mug, then up at the others who were also hesitating. But Kavyn lifted his mug and drank deeply, pausing only to wipe his face with the back of his hand.

"How is it?" asked Young Tobias.

"Not as bad as some I've had," Kavyn answered simply.

Thinking that an endorsement, Young Tobias tipped back his mug for a deep swallow. The others, knowing better, held onto their mugs and watched his face. Young Tobias turned white, then red as he spat on the ground. "Horse piss! That's sewer water!"

"Not quite," Kavyn replied, with the calm tone of one who knows what is saying. He lifted his mug for another long drink.

Young Tobias stared at him across the table. "You're mad!"

"Aye," Kavyn agreed. "And thirsty. It's a hot day for the midwinter."

At least Kavyn was right about the heat, and here in the river's mouth the air was thick and heavy. The beer couldn't taste any worse than the town smelt, Calias thought as he tasted his own mug.

He was wrong. Weak and warm, the beer had the bitter undertaste of bad straining. "At least it will keep us from drinking our wits away. What of the food?"

Kavyn reached out a long-fingered hand and scooped up two of the fried bits of dough. Chewing them, he said thoughtfully, "A bit spicy."

As no honest swordman would be scared off by spice, every man reached out to take a pastry. Calias took his in one bite, then grabbed up his mug and drank deeply to quench the fire that exploded in his mouth. The others were doing the same. The filling was indeed heavily spiced, but not enough to hide the sour, gamey taste of the meat within.

Kavyn took another pastry.

"How can you eat that?" Calias demanded.

"I've had worse," Kavyn admitted, before draining his mug. He stared wistfully into the bottom of his empty mug.

Undoubtably it was true. Calias looked over at Dynnis, who seemed unmoved by his swordson's tastes. "Fah. Why do you put up with this worthless idiot?"

Dynnis shrugged. "There's gold within, you'll see."

"Golden dreamdust, more likely," muttered Glyver. Silently, Calias agreed.

Continued on page 2

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Helen E. Davis