Against The World

Chapter 97: A Bell from the Coast

Brother Cael’s list contained sixteen names.

Beside each, he had written what they needed for the journey.

A covered seat.

A place to lie down.

Someone to help at stops.

At the bottom, in smaller writing, he had added himself.

No requirements.

Beatrice put one finger beside his name.

“That usually means we’ll have to feed him twice.”

It took nine days to bring them to Stoneford.

There were letters before there were wagons. Arrangements for lodging. A disagreement over whether one patient could manage the longer stage between inns.

Cael insisted she could.

Arwen, who had gone with the receiving party, sent back three sentences explaining why he was wrong.

The journey acquired another stop.

I approved the expense.

On the ninth morning, Eliza brought word that they were waiting at the gate.

Soren was with me when the message arrived.

He stood so quickly that his chair struck the wall.

Then he looked embarrassed.

“Go,” I said.

He went.

Cael came through supporting a woman older than himself.

He was broad across the shoulders, grey at the temples, and dressed in a coat that had been repaired with thread of two different colors.

The woman leaned on his arm.

“I told you I can walk.”

“And I believed you.”

“Then stop steering.”

“There’s a step.”

“I can see the step.”

Soren met them at the edge of the platform.

Cael stopped.

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Then the woman looked between them.

“Well, put me in a chair first.”

That broke whatever had been holding them still.

Soren helped her sit.

Cael caught his shoulder.

They embraced awkwardly, one of Soren’s hands still holding a folded blanket.

I stood back while the next travelers came through.

There was room for reunions beside the gate.

There was also a queue.

The infirmary received seven of the newcomers.

The others went to rooms Helena had prepared with their families or companions.

Cael tried to accompany every one of them.

Nessa stopped him outside the third door.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

He considered that.

Arwen appeared behind him.

“Yesterday.”

Cael turned.

“There was bread this morning.”

“You gave it to Marrit.”

“She wanted it.”

Nessa took him by the sleeve.

“Kitchen.”

I followed them.

I had begun to like him.

We sat over broth and thick slices of bread.

Cael ate the first slice before remembering to address me.

“Your Majesty. I owe you—”

“You can finish that first.”

He glanced at the bread in his hand.

Then took another bite.

Soren sat beside him.

I asked about the journey once Cael’s bowl was half empty.

He told me about the inns, the condition of the road, and a wheel that had needed replacing.

He spoke easily until I asked about the residence where he had been confined.

His spoon stopped.

“They gave me a room.”

I waited.

“A bed. Books, if I requested them. Meals at the proper times.”

He looked toward the kitchen door.

“There was a courtyard I could use when someone was available to accompany me.”

Soren’s expression hardened.

“How long before they let you see anyone?”

“Long enough.”

Cael set down the spoon.

“I kept hearing the bell for the infirmary round. The residence was close enough.”

Neither of us interrupted.

“I knew which patients would be waiting.”

After the meal, Cael asked to see the chapel.

We walked across the courtyard together.

He studied the new carving above the entrance before looking toward the open door.

“Soren told me she answered him.”

“Yes.”

“And gave him a blessing.”

“Yes.”

Cael looked at his own hands.

“I’m glad.”

He sounded sincere.

Then he added, “I wouldn’t know what to say to her.”

“There seems to be a good deal of that going around.”

That earned a small smile.

He remained outside.

I did not ask him to enter.

After a while, he turned toward the infirmary.

“Could I see where the others are sleeping?”

“Of course.”

He walked beside me, glancing back only once.

That evening, Evelyn asked whether he had settled.

“I’m not certain he knows how yet.”

“He’s had a difficult few weeks.”

“I know.”

She was sitting on the rug with Carol lying on a folded blanket before her.

Our daughter had discovered that kicking could produce interesting effects in the fabric around her feet.

Garrick watched from my arms.

I suspected he was planning to claim the blanket once she finished with it.

Evelyn looked up.

“Will he stay?”

“He hasn’t decided.”

“Good.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“He should get to make a decision after some sleep.”

I sat beside her.

For a little while, we watched our daughter kick.

Then Evelyn said, “I would like to go to Valewood soon.”

“For painting?”

“For that. And to sit in a room where Mother hasn’t put another cupboard full of baby linen.”

“She may have done it there too.”

My wife considered this.

“We should investigate.”

The next morning, a woman arrived from Orselle.

She came by the ordinary road.

That was the first thing Mary told me.

The second was that she had spent nearly a month reaching us.

I put down the report I was reading.

“From the coast?”

“Yes.”

“Is she a merchant?”

“She says she keeps the Crown Quay.”

I stood.

Mary held up one hand.

“She is eating. You have time to finish dressing properly.”

I looked down.

I had come straight from the practice yard.

There was mud on one knee.

“Is she particular about clothes?”

“I have no idea. I am.”

Her name was Captain Tamsin Rell.

She had weathered skin, dark hair tied at the nape of her neck, and a short scar that divided one eyebrow.

Her coat was good wool, worn shiny at the cuffs.

She stood when Evelyn and I entered.

Then stared at my hands.

I knew that look.

I had seen it on people coming through our gates with everything they owned tied to their backs.

Recognition before introduction.

Relief they were not yet willing to trust.

“Your Majesty.”

“Captain Rell.”

She bowed to Evelyn.

Then sat when we did.

Mary took her usual place.

“What brings you to Greykeep?” I asked.

Tamsin placed a leather-wrapped parcel on the table.

“The quay bell rang.”

Inside the leather lay a brass plate.

Salt had darkened the edges.

A crown had been worked into its center above three shallow grooves.

I looked toward the Castellan’s eye on the wall.

His light sharpened.

“Orselle Crown Quay. Receiving authority plate.”

Tamsin turned toward him.

Her hand stopped halfway back to her lap.

“Well,” she said quietly.

“This is the Castellan,” I explained.

“He still speaks?”

“Yes.”

She looked at the plate on the wall for a long moment.

“My grandfather said he would.”

The Castellan’s eye remained steady.

“Who was your grandfather?”

“Derren Rell. His mother kept the quay before him.”

There was a pause.

“I have a record of Keeper Mereth Rell,” the Castellan said.

Tamsin lowered her eyes to the brass plate.

“Yes.”

Her thumb moved over the crown.

“That was her.”

The bell had rung before dawn several weeks earlier.

No rope had moved.

No one had entered the locked receiving room.

It had sounded three times.

Then the crown above the old gate had shone.

“For how long?” the Castellan asked.

“Until sunrise.”

“Did any other marks illuminate?”

“Two on the left pillar. One on the floor.”

Mary began drawing as Tamsin described them.

I leaned closer.

We had known of Orselle.

The old records named it among Greykeep’s coastal connections.

But a name on a surviving map had given us neither a working destination nor anyone to receive travelers safely.

“You were still maintaining it?” Evelyn asked.

“As much as we could.”

“After all this time?”

Tamsin looked faintly puzzled.

“It’s our quay.”

The old receiving court stood above Orselle’s inner harbor.

The gate itself remained intact.

Its roof had been replaced twice. The warehouse beside it now held sailcloth, rope, and winter stores.

Tamsin’s family had kept the brass plate, the receiving room, and a small book describing duties no one living had ever performed.

“When I was a girl, my father made me learn the arrivals call,” she said.

“Did you believe you’d use it?”

“No.”

“Did he?”

“He made me learn it.”

She glanced toward the Castellan.

“Perhaps he hoped.”

I looked at the grooves cut beneath the little crown.

“What happened after the bell?”

“We sent to the town council. Then to the harbor wardens. Someone had already brought news of Greykeep, but sailors bring news of all sorts.”

“Such as?”

“A king who flew over a mountain carrying a castle.”

Evelyn turned toward me.

“Have you?”

“Not recently.”

Tamsin smiled.

Only briefly.

“We needed to know which part was true.”

I asked why she had come herself.

“Because I’m the keeper.”

“You could have sent someone.”

“I could.”

She unfolded a letter signed by Orselle’s harbor council.

“They asked me to see whether you intended to claim the town.”

I read it.

There was courtesy in the opening.

Less in the middle.

Orselle had governed its own harbor for generations. It had paid for its seawall, buried its dead, settled disputes, and survived several rulers who had considered its customs house more interesting than its people.

At the bottom, six signatures had been written in different hands.

I passed it to Evelyn.

Tamsin watched us both.

“I told them I would ask plainly.”

“I’m glad you did,” I said.

“Then I’ll ask again. Does reopening that gate mean we wake tomorrow belonging to Greykeep?”

“No.”

She held my gaze.

“I would want that written down.”

Mary reached for a clean page.

“You’re in the right room,” Evelyn said.

We spent the afternoon hearing about Orselle.

A fishing harbor.

Two shipyards.

A sheltered anchorage deep enough for trading vessels that could not reach the smaller river ports.

Salt came through it.

So did timber, wool, lamp oil, and grain when the weather allowed.

The town needed reliable access inland.

We needed things that arrived more easily by sea.

But Tamsin had brought more than an opportunity.

She had brought questions from people who would have to live beside whatever we built.

Where would arriving cargo be stored?

Who would inspect it?

Could either end close the gate?

Who paid for repairs?

Garrick joined us halfway through and began asking questions of his own.

By late afternoon, Tamsin had stopped looking as though she expected the furniture to declare allegiance.

The Castellan interrupted while we were discussing warehouse space.

“The authority plate can attempt a call.”

Everyone stopped.

I turned toward the wall.

“To Orselle?”

“Yes. Provided the corresponding station remains powered.”

Tamsin sat forward.

“A call?”

“A limited signal. It will not open the passage.”

“Can they answer?”

“If someone follows the receiving procedure.”

She looked down at the plate.

Then back at him.

“My brother knows it.”

I felt something lift beneath my ribs.

“Where do we need to take it?”

“The gate control chamber.”

We went together.

Mary brought the copied procedure.

Tamsin carried the brass plate herself.

In the control chamber, the Castellan directed her to a narrow recess beside the main console.

It had always looked ornamental to me.

I was beginning to distrust that assumption.

The plate fitted.

Not smoothly.

Tamsin had to wipe salt and dirt from one edge before it settled into place.

A small blue line appeared beneath the crown.

She stepped back.

I felt the answering structure wake beneath the floor.

Old channels.

A little power drawn into places that had been quiet since before I was born.

The Castellan spoke.

“Place your hand against the plate, Keeper Rell.”

She did.

“State the station and your authority.”

Tamsin swallowed.

Then her voice changed.

Clearer.

The voice of someone giving an order across wind and water.

“Orselle Crown Quay. Keeper Tamsin Rell, holding the receiving charge.”

The blue line brightened.

“Request the watch,” the Castellan said.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

I wondered whether she was remembering her father.

“Crown Quay,” she said. “Keeper calling. Answer the watch.”

Nothing happened.

We waited.

Somewhere beyond the chamber, a guard walked down the passage.

His footsteps faded.

The brass remained warm beneath Tamsin’s hand.

“How long?” I asked quietly.

“The signal has been sent,” the Castellan replied. “A response depends on the receiving keeper.”

Tamsin kept her hand in place.

“He may be down at the boats.”

No one answered.

She looked at the blue line.

“He’ll hear it from the stairs.”

We waited longer.

Then a bell sounded inside the wall.

One clear note.

Tamsin drew in a breath.

A second followed.

Then a third.

She laughed once, sharply, and pressed her free hand over her mouth.

Mary stood very still beside me.

Evelyn reached for my hand.

The Castellan’s eye brightened.

“Orselle Crown Quay acknowledges.”

There was no voice.

No opening through which we could see the sea.

Only three notes from a harbor none of us had visited.

Tamsin bent her head.

For a moment, I thought she was listening for more.

Then I saw the tear fall against the brass.

“My brother,” she said.

I looked at the small blue line.

Across the distance, someone else stood in an old room with his hand against a plate.

Someone whose family had kept a duty long enough to receive an answer.

“Can we send anything else?” I asked.

“Recognition and hold,” the Castellan said. “Until both stations have been examined.”

I looked at Tamsin.

She nodded.

We sent the signal.

This time, the answer came quickly.

That night, Evelyn found me standing over the coastal map.

The children were asleep.

For once, both of them.

She stood beside me and followed the line I had been tracing.

“You’ve never seen this sea.”

“No.”

“Do you miss the one at home?”

I thought about it.

Salt wind.

Cold water around my ankles.

Caroline complaining that I had splashed her while preparing to do considerably worse to me.

“Sometimes.”

Evelyn slipped her hand into mine.

“When the gate is ready,” she said, “I’d like to go.”

“To inspect the harbor?”

“That too.”

I turned toward her.

She smiled.

“But first I would like you to show me where the water meets the sky.”

I looked back at the map.

Until that afternoon, Orselle had been a name near the edge of a page.

Now there was a keeper.

A brother waiting beside a bell.

And somewhere beyond them, a shore my wife wanted to see with me.

“We’ll go,” I said.

Then I folded the map, and we went to bed.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!