Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Six Souls, Book 3, Chapter 2 - A Dreamer from the North
🕑 Added 2025-08-13 19:06:10 +0000 UTC“If that’s what you’re looking for, then you would be best to try one of the dockside taverns. The Gilded Vessel is as good a place as any.”
I stood outside the tavern with a sceptical expression on my face. It was grimy with soot, and the dull green paint was chipping away in places. A simple cup painted bright yellow was carved into a sign that hung above the door to a building that seemed to ooze smoke and the smell of stale beer.
“Are you sure?” I asked. The sound of drunken singing echoed out from within.
“It’s not pretty, Mond. But sailors don’t need pretty. They need cheap ale and wenches. Life on the galleys is hard. Keeping the oar-slaves in line, beatings from the mates and officers. Shit food and worse sleep. You say you want to see the world, and Aresk knows I understand that. It’s why I came south in the first place, but these are rough men, my friend.”
I pushed open the door and stepped into a whole new world. Smoke curled around the exposed beams above me, haloing the candles that burned in sconces along the walls. A large fire roared in a hearth at one side of the room, despite the heat that still lingered outside even at night. Simple chairs surrounded tables that were repurposed barrels, as often as anything I would normally consider as furniture, and everywhere I looked were scarred and wiry men.
Clay pots were being lifted regularly to lips, and amongst the poorly dressed men, women in the local style of toga moved about, offering their services. The babble of half a dozen languages washed over me as I paused to let my eyes adjust to the relative brightness of the pub.
“Can you see any captains, brother Bargip?” I asked my new companion.
“A few. Let’s get something to drink before we approach them, eh?”
We approached the bar, simple planks nailed to a series of barrels for support, and I caught the eye of the barmaid, who sauntered over unhurriedly.
“You’re not welcome here,” she snapped at my guide. “Lastur still has the bruises!”
“It was an accident, Jariu! That deckhand shoved me, and I bumped into her accidentally!” Bargip complained. “If my salt is as sand, then my wealthy friend and I can drink elsewhere.”
“An offering to make it right would go a long way to redeeming your reputation.” The woman wore a bright blue toga, and she crossed her arms under her small breasts as she glared at Bargip.
“What happened?” I asked. The barmaid clearly understood the trader language of the steppes, as she was berating Bargip in my language, so my main concern was set aside for now. She eyed me up and down, and I was grateful that the counter concealed my bare feet from her judgmental gaze.
“This one ‘accidentally’ left one of my girls with two black eyes and a broken collarbone when he started a fight with the second mate of the Withered Rose.”
“Shit-sitters ain’t got no respect, Mond. The man questioned my honour!” snapped Bargip. “I didn’t hit her! He threw me into her, and she got caught in the fray.”
“I’ll have two ales, please. If you like, I have some skills as a healer and might be able to help your friend,” I offered as I pulled a pouch of salt from my hip and looked at her scales.
“He’s got a debt to be paid as well.” She raised one eyebrow at me, and I sighed.
“How much?”
“Four onz should cover it and your drinks. If you can help Lastur, I might be willing to lower it a little. No one wants a whore who looks like she’s been beaten like a misbehaving donkey!”
“Is she nearby? I can take a look now if you like.”
“Upstairs, filling up a room that ought to be used for sailors to rut in. You can wait here.” She pointed to Bargip. “You can follow me, tall man.”
She led me up a set of stairs that lay almost hidden in shadows at the back of the bar. As she walked up the stairs ahead of me, her hips swayed in a fashion that was unlikely to be accidental. She wasn’t a candle to Fay’s sun. The girl was barking up the wrong tree if she thought I could be manipulated that easily.
“Your feet don’t hurt?” Huh. She had noticed.
“I’ve got tough soles.” She stopped and opened a door quietly.
“Lastur?” she asked softly.
“Get out!” came the sharp response.
“Got a physic here. One of your people.”
“I’m Dreamer trained,” I offered. Kril had never actually taught me any of his traditional healing and herbalism, but it was close enough to the truth.
“Only the broken warriors leave the steppe,” she said bitterly from her bed as we stepped into the dark room. It smelled of sweat, sex, and rot. Heavy drapes hung over the windows, which somewhat muffled the sounds of the wagons rolling past outside.
“Not all of us. Here, add some of this to boiling water and bring it up for her, please.” I passed a pouch of ched to Jariu. She eyed me up and down suspiciously.
“Leave the door open.” Her voice was firm as she turned to leave.
“I’m a married man. I’ve no interest in any woman but my wife.”
“No doubt. I’ve heard about how savage your woman can be. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Can I see the injuries?”
There were the sounds of fumbling in the dark for a moment, and then a flint was struck and a small oil lamp sputtered into life. Her eyes were puffy and bruised, and as she settled back, she winced in pain from having moved her shoulder.
“Areskyn?” she asked, taking in my hair.
“Mondyn. The herds were split at the start of the year. You?”
“Fawepyn.”
“King Calpakter is well.”
“Friends with kings are we?” she sneered.
“I’ve met the man once or twice.”
“Braggart and a fool. Your name is not unknown among us wanderers. We get news from the north regularly. Urkash will have the real Warlord’s head soon, if he hasn’t already. The tribes will serve as undead within a season, making the madman all the stronger.”
“I need to travel to the pirate king's stronghold.” I had sat down at the edge of the bed. Tilting her head from side to side with fingers pressed under her chin, I could see that the damage was unlikely to have been accidental, and resolved to have a private conversation with Bargip. I pressed gently on her injured left shoulder and grimaced. The bone didn’t grind, so it was more likely a fracture than a clean break, thank the gods, but her wince when I touched it made clear that it was extremely painful.
“Which pirate-king?” she asked, closing her eyes in pain. I cast Heal Other while she wasn’t watching me, and her eyes snapped open as the green glow faded. “What did you do?”
“The old tricks have come back again, and Hakukril taught them to me. How does it feel?”
“It still hurts, but it’s faded.” She rolled her left arm experimentally, then reached up to check on the much-reduced swelling around her eyes and jaw. “Magic?” she whispered the last word fearfully.
“Are there many from the tribes in the cities?” I asked, standing up and moving to throw back the curtain. I opened the window. It was mostly wood, with small panes of thin glass set within the thick frame.
“More than you might expect. Mostly horse traders and wandering merchants. Some apprentice Dreamers as well, sent south to study in the libraries. You are him, aren’t you? At war with the Dead King.”
“The Dead King is living up to his nickname now.”
“Shikrakyn.” It was a whisper, somewhere between a curse and a prayer. “Lord, why are you here? These are good people, on the whole. Don’t bring your war here!”
“We don’t need any wars at all and won’t have any, Gods willing. Is your blood running hot? What madness are you talking about?” Jariu nudged the door back open with her foot, carrying a tray with three cups and a teapot made of shockingly fine china. I had only seen crude pottery on Urth before now. This looked like it could have been made on Earth. Delicate lines of ochre had been painted onto it before it was fired. The part of the new world I’d known, despite the vast stretches of grassland and desert, suddenly seemed very small and backward.
“I’ve given her some herbs that might leave her a bit out of sorts. I’ve been called south. I need a ship and I need intelligence.” I chose to try to move the conversation on, but Jariu noted the look Lastur was giving me.
“Can’t help with your brains, but there are a few captains downstairs. Where do you need to go?”
“Well, Jariu, that’s part of the problem. The Dreams want me to find a dangerous port.” She sniffed as she looked me up and down, then passed me a delicate cup filled to the brim with ched before passing one carefully to Lastur.
“Aresk is sending you into troubled waters, Dreamer. And there are more than enough of those around these days. If you’re truly looking for trouble, Junt is the place to go. You won’t find a captain willing to risk those shores, though. The Ketanii are far too organised now.
“The Wargod sends me where he wishes.” In his bloody bronze dreams! “I’ve heard stories of Junt, but that was a long time ago. What has changed?” Kril mentioned the place once in passing, what felt like a lifetime ago, but if Amir were going to be good at anything, logistics and organisation would be at the top of the list.
“If you settle your friend’s debt, I could see if a certain captain is willing to take you on. It won’t be a pleasure cruise; you’ll have to work and, most likely, fight. A Dreamer of the steppes would be fine with that, I expect?” she asked as she moved over to the window and took a sip from her own steaming cup, her back to Lastur and me.
Lastur started giggling, then cut it off as I glared at her, but not before Jariu spun and saw the silent exchange. I pulled my salt pouch from my belt and tossed it to her.
“That should cover his debt and buy me an introduction?” She weighed the bag in her hand for a moment, then nodded. I had a few kilos of the stuff in a storage ring, long unused since my ascension to warlord and the long months of battle and marching that had followed.
“Agreed. Lastur, are you sure he’s helped you?”
The injured woman lifted her left arm over her head with a faint wince, then let it fall, the movement spilling a little of her drink on the blankets.
“He has. If he’s willing, he might be able to help the girls with the pox?” She looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not a mendicant.” I had no desire to spend my days helping whores deal with the consequences of their trade, but I wasn’t completely heartless. “If your captain friend meets my needs and is ready to sail, I will not. If he requires time to load provisions or recruit more crew, I’ll see what I can do.” It would be tricky, but I was already scheming up ways to avoid drawing too much attention with the magic.
“It would be appreciated. But you’ll need some boots! I’m not having someone staying here run about looking like a–”
“I’ll pass on the boots. This captain you mentioned?” I needed flesh on stone to be able to Shape Earth, just in case I felt the need to escape, or entomb someone in stone in a hurry.
“He’s in a booth downstairs with a couple of my girls.” Jariu was barely thirty if she was a day. “Come, we’ll let Lastur rest. I need to keep an eye on your countryman as well.”
“Lord.” Lastur nodded her head slowly to me. Jariu gave me a funny look, then led me back downstairs.
“Ah! Here’s the mighty warrior!” Bagrip declared as he hurried over before I reached the bottom step. “I trust everything is in order with the unfair arrears I was being held accountable for?” He gave Jariu a greasy smile.
“Your debt is settled, courtesy of your master.” She turned her head in my direction. “If he breaks anything this time, I will hold you responsible.”
“He’s not my master!” snapped Bagrip. I reached out and settled a hand on his shoulder and gripped just hard enough to let him know I could grip a lot harder if I wanted to.
“I’m not, but I’m sure the merchant will behave this evening. Won’t you?”
“Gods, that’s strong!” He tried to shy away but found I was both unmovable and that he could not squirm out of my grip. “Argh! Too strong.” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I released him.
“I believe we’ve got a possibility. A captain who might take us on as crew and get me closer to the source of my Dreams.” I didn’t like the gleam in the man’s eyes. Too strong, too fast. Those had been the words of the doomed Areskyn prince, one of the first men I’d killed in this world, just as he realised I was a Shikrakyn, something more than merely mortal. “Where is he?”
“Your best bet for getting to Junt? In that booth over there. I’ll bring you a flagon over.” She waved a hand at a shady corner of the room. All I could see was a woman’s ankle emerging from the shadows.
“C’mon, Bargip. Let’s not keep our prospective ride waiting.” I settled a hand on his other shoulder and gently guided him towards my target.
“I’m not going to Junt!” the man hissed at me.
“You don’t have to. See the door? It opens from the inside as well. I’ve paid your debt. And helped the woman you hurt.” My fingers tightened on his shoulder, and he briefly looked guilty. “Consider yourself free to fuck off.” My tone made it clear it would be a good idea for him to go.
“I couldn’t abandon a brother warrior among the shit-sitters. You don’t speak their language!”
“It seems the trade tongue is common enough. I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you stay, you need to be bringing something to the table,” I growled.
“I’m sure I can–” Before he could finish, we arrived at the secluded nook, and I leaned forward to rest my fists on the table.
“I hear you're looking for crew and might be heading in the direction I want to go.”
“Fuck off!” came a man’s gruff voice, followed by an unladylike giggle from his companion.
“I want to head to Junt. Or close to it.” Bargip flinched at my words, but he still didn’t accept my offer to bugger off. There was a thud and a squawk as something moved in the darkness. The woman scurried out from under the table and rubbed the back of her head with one hand as she straightened her dress with the other.
“Wait for me, woman.” The man emerged from the shadows himself, straightening his trousers. He was short, even compared to the norm of the nomads. His clothing looked a lot finer than the other patrons of this somewhat disreputable establishment. Deep, rich red, the red that only kings would wear among the nomads. Yellow frockwork decorated the sleeves of his jacket, but they were a little frayed, spoiling his otherwise opulent appearance.
He slapped her on the backside to send her scurrying away with a yelp.
“Who told you I’d be heading that way?” He glared at me, and I was pleasantly surprised to find he didn’t wear an eyepatch. Just dark, beady orbs that glowered at me from beneath an unruly mop of black hair.
“Jariu. Happy to work my journey, friend, and I can fight if you need it.”
“Spent much time on the waters, have you? Beloved of the Seagod?” He smirked at me as he said it. If only you knew how wrong you were.
“Something like that. I can pay in metal or salt, and I can pull an oar or swing a sword.”
“Is your lover coming as well?” Bargip lunged forward and slammed a fist into the captain's face, then swung back a foot that was clearly intended to connect with the man’s delicate parts.
I snatched him up and tossed him behind me with one hand. The captain had staggered back into the seclusion of his nook and was cursing up a storm.
“Fucking nomads! No sense of humour.” He emerged from the shadows once more and spat a glob of blood on the dried grasses that covered the floorboards. “Oh, he’s definitely allowed to join us now, assuming you can meet the price.” He rumbled on for a moment in a language I didn’t recognise, but the tone suggested Bargip had just received a verbal drubbing.
“Here’s the ale. If he does anything else, you’re both out,” Jariu said as she deposited a flagon of beer and a pair of glasses on the sailor's table.
“He’s not with me. Throw him out whenever you want,” I growled, and she paused a moment before nodding and hurrying back to the bar.
“Too fast,” muttered Bargip as he climbed back to his feet to glare at me. “You heard what he said! That warrants a duel!”
“I’m happy to oblige, aurox-fucker,” said the captain calmly. “You. Sit.” He said the last to me, and I slid into the booth opposite him. Bargip was left floating, as neither of us moved far enough along to allow him to join us. He stomped over and snatched a stool from a nearby table. While we waited, the captain gave me an assessing glare.
“Name's Jasper, captain of the Windspite. A three-tier galley, there’s none faster than her from here to Parlos.” Pride was thick in his voice.
“Mond. A Dreamer from the north. Where are you headed, captain?”
“And is it Helipokyn?” Bagrip said as he filled a tankard with my ale. He looked at me, and I nodded, prompting him to fill my cup. He pointedly ignored the captain, so I reached out and filled the man’s tankard myself.
“I’ve got a drop at Selinsa. From there, you might be able to get to Junt if you’re desperate to become a slave. I’ll be taking on Brast powder there, to take to Helipokyn and Rast after there.”
“Drugs?”
“What?”
“What is Brast powder?” I clarified.
“It’s a purple dye, fool,” Bargip snapped. “Lord.” He hastily amended.
“You’re a noble among the savages?” asked Jasper.
“Something like that. How far is Selinsa from Junt?” I replied.
“Four days sailing if the winds favour us, but we won’t be going there. We’ll be running from any of the black ships we see. In and out, quick and quiet,” Jasper said.
“Dangerous?” I asked.
“Very. The Ketanii have shut down sea trade in much of the Sunsea. Bastards!”
“The docks looked busy enough to me?”
“Pah, this is dead quiet. With Urkash at war with everyone and coming closer every week, the Ketanii ravaging the coast from here to Hasturs Gap, and talk of magic and monsters everywhere… There should be three times as many ships at anchor.”
“I might be able to help if we bump into these raiders,” I offered dryly.
“One man makes no difference one way or the other. A ship is a single organism, a living thing, and the crew is just a part of it. How is your teamwork, savage? Your sort don’t get along with others, as a rule.”
I smiled broadly and drained my cup, leaning back on my stool.
“I can offer some training as well.” He eyes me up and down suspiciously.
“Not much call for spearfighting on deck.”
“We don’t just use spears! We’re born with maces, daggers, and bows in our hands!” Bargip snapped.
“Knifework was what I was thinking. Dagger and short swords,” I said calmly.
“We’ll see. If you can beat Talon, maybe you’ve got something to offer.”
“So we’re agreed, I will join your crew for a ways?”
“Aye, milord. One thing I’ll say for your lot, you don’t suffer from being at sea as much as some dirtgrubbers.” He filled his tankard again.
“When do we sail?”
“We’ll break the swells tomorrow as the tide goes out. Early. Where are you staying?”
“I’ll be stopping here. I hear some of the girls could use some healing.”
“Poxie girls here.” Jasper nodded sagely. “But cheap and warm, just don’t take payment in services or you’ll be brewing concoctions for yourself! The beers’ not bad either!” He took another sip and smacked his lips. “I’ll be back first thing.” He rose to his feet and looked down at me for a long moment, then turned and left. Bargip slid into his vacated space and reached for the ale, but my hand shot out and caught his wrist.
“Wouldn’t want you misbehaving and forcing me to patch any other girls up.” I shoved his hand back across the table.
“They’re only shit-sitters, Mond. Not of the people.”
“Your wife back home might be understanding, I hear it’s normal for warriors away from the green sea to dally.”
“Yours will be the same!” He cackled and reached out for the ale again, but stopped as I glared at him.
“She has nothing to worry about,” I growled. “I’m going to see if Jariu wants me to look at any of her other girls. Finish that ale, but if you cause any shit, I’ll use your head for sport.” He gulped and nodded hurriedly.
Jariu led me upstairs to yet another room with a single bed and no other furniture. The woman waiting inside looked up from where she was stretched out on the furs.
She said something in a language I didn’t understand, slurring her words as though drunk. She reached over to the far side of the bed and pulled a clay jar out that she took a long drink from. Her blond hair was lanky and unwashed, her skin grimy and glistening with sweat.
“She says she won’t serve you yet. She isn’t right yet.” Jariu then switched and jabbered back and forth with the girl in the unknown language she had used as we entered.
“Leave me with her. I’ll do what I can.”
Jariu said something else I didn’t understand, and the girl shot me a hopeful look. She nodded and rose unsteadily to her feet to stand opposite me.
“How long will it take? What herbs will you use?”
“Not long, and I’m sure you wouldn’t share the secrets of your trade if someone simply asked. “
“Hmmph. Fine. Some see me when you’re done with Gawlo.”
Jariu left the room, and I moved to close the door behind her. When I turned back, the woman had shed her robes and stood there naked. It was profoundly unerotic; I could see the lesions and sores, but the woman was shameless and didn’t care.
“No thanks,” I said in a friendly tone as I approached. She pushed her shoulders back and pushed her small breasts forward. I pulled a large pinch of Dream-spice from a pouch and, moving like lightning, I blew the dust into her face. She staggered back and sat on the bed. I began to appreciate why Kril used the spice-ambush so often. Her eyes crossed, and she lay back, bumping her head on the wall behind her.
“Right. Time to spend some mana on hookers.”
