Kithro watched the second ferry pull away from the next dock upstream, and beyond that another, and another. First the ferries, then the barges moved out into the current, disappearing into the night. When the last barge pulled out, the small boats would follow.
But not with all the men; there weren’t nearly enough boats for that. The rest stood in ranks in camp. In a few minutes, Macurdy’s courier would reach headquarters, and Macurdy would speed march the remaining troops five miles downstream to the Inderstown docks—another part of his fabric of deceit.
Jeremid’s gaze was not ahead toward the unseen north shore, but back toward the south shore. When it was only a vaguely darker darkness, he began to count slowly. At thirty, he spoke to the bosun. “Turn downstream and hold course near the middle, until I tell you otherwise. I don’t want us seen from either shore.” Not that some cat-eyed ylf can’t see us if he’s watching. But it can make him uncertain; make him stop and puzzle.
The bosun had been prepared for a change in course, but this? “Yes, General,” he answered, and ordered the steersman, who pulled hard on the steering oar, turning them sharply left. The oarsmen continued to dip and pull their long oars, despite the break in the bosun’s soft and rhythmic chant of “Stroke.” With the current, they were making good speed. Upstream there was no light yet from the moonrise to come, and downstream Jeremid still couldn’t see the guide torches that should have been lit at dusk. Had better have been, or this operation could run into serious trouble. Though if it came down to it, they’d make it work somehow.
Briefly he turned his attention to what he thought of as the troop deck. Between the oarsmen’s narrow halfdecks, with their low protective railings, the cargo deck was packed with horses, each with its rider standing by its head, one hand gripping the bridle while the other stroked the animal’s long nose, or its neck. The horses were another source of possible trouble when they docked.
Shortly Jeremid saw a row of torches ahead on the south shore, and spoke to the bosun. “Steer for the Parnston docks. The rest of the army is marching to Inderstown; they’ll cross to Parnston from there.” The order drew an “ah” of understanding, and the bosun ordered the steersman, who pushed on the steering oar, angling them right. By starlight, Jeremid could make out the next two ferries following, could even hear a low voice calling an order on the nearest—nearer than he liked.
The north shore became more distinct, until at about sixty yards, the bosun gave another order and the steersman turned parallel to it. A minute later, Jeremid made out the Parnston barge docks ahead. Now if Jesker had done his job . . . He had: the barge and ferry docks were clear. The bosun gave more orders, sharply now. The steersman turned them sharply. Oars were raised or backed water, and for long seconds Jeremid forgot to breathe. The oars dipped again, stroked once, then backed strongly; the ferry dragged bottom slightly, and bumped the wharf just enough to throw Jeremid against the bosun’s rail. Men jumped onto the wharf with lines, while the portside oarsmen dug blades into the muddy bottom, holding the ferry in place till the lines were secured. Then the bosun ordered the forward ramp lowered.
Several horses had fallen when the ferry bumped the wharf, but they all got up again; there’d been no broken legs. Jeremid was the first to lead his gelding up the ramp, at the same time aware of shouts and swearing from other ferries docking without benefit of longshoremen. He scowled; what he didn’t need was wrecks, horses with broken legs, or boats colliding, perhaps dumping their troops into the current.
Ashore, his men stood by their horses. Jesker’s advance landing party stood watching; if it had been in a fight, there was no sign of it. They should have a beacon fire ready for lighting. “Jesker!” Jeremid called.
“Here, sir!”
“Light it off!”
“Yes, sir!”
If Macurdy were here, the Ozman thought, he’d have it in flames with a gesture. He looked downstream. It was the barges and the crazy Kormehri that he needed to see to now.