Chapter 11 (Original edit)

Chapter XI

The next morning when Jerrod awoke it was with a queasy feeling and a definite antipathy for the sunlight that was streaming through the window onto his pillow. Having never really been allowed to drink to his heart's content by either his parents or Astall, the wine from the banquet and its aftermath had proven more than a match for him. Oh, he had a glass of wine or two with a meal before. Once he'd even snuck a half-full jug away from the table at banquet at his parent's castle. He'd even gotten well and truly drunk in Nova Ekirigilio before the trolls came along and fear and adrenalin had burned away the alcoholic haze and saved him from the aftereffects of his folly. Nothing had prepared him for the way that he felt right now, though.

The young mage attempted to bring his arm up to block the light from invading his eyes. As he began his motion, Jerrod discovered that he had made a serious mistake. Even the slight movement of his arm had been enough to start what seemed like a blacksmith pounding in his head and a roiling in his stomach the like of which he had never experienced. He groaned. He couldn't imagine feeling much worse.

As if on cue, there was a knock on his door. Without bothering to wait for invitation, in walked Urki. "Well, Jerrod, time to get out of that bed, comfortable as it may be. We have much to do today and the proverbial little time in which to do it."

Jerrod let out another feeble groan as the invader approached his bed.

"Hung over? Well, don't let that stop you. We've got lots to do today! Come on, get up!" Urki laughed. Seeing no movement after Jerrod's attempt to bury his head beneath the pillow, Urki snickered. "What? Is this your first? You'll survive. Let me tell you, lad, I've been through it many times and I can help you get through it too."

Jerrod peeked an eye out from underneath his recently acquired shield of feathers.

"That's right. I know the way to cure a hangover. So come on, get up and get rid of that pillow and I'll show you," said Urki in his best sympathetic tone.

Jerrod set the pillow grudgingly to one side and tried to sit up. Failing in his first attempt and falling back to the bed with a groan, Jerrod showed he was made of stern stuff indeed, and made another attempt to sit despite the wave of nausea that assailed him. This time Jerrod was successful although the room did start to spin a crazily as a searing pain went off in his head.

"Hunwi," he said enigmatically through a mouth that felt as if it was filled with bales of cotton.

Swallowing, he tried again. "Hurry! I don't know how much longer I can stand this," Jerrod coughed while clacking his tongue in a vain attempts to make his mouth feel clean again.

"Oh, I'll hurry Jerrod, and don't worry you'll survive," Urki grinned. "The first thing we've got to do is get you on your feet," cried the young warrior as he reached out and grabbed Jerrod by his arms. With a quick tug, Urki pulled Jerrod from the bed.

Jerrod swallowed his bile with a gulp.

"Next, we have to get your blood circulating. Come on, Jerrod, start spinning," Urki guffawed as he began twirling the younger man in a circle.

Jerrod felt as though both his head and his stomach were about to explode. It didn't really seem to be a question of if they would explode, but rather a question of which would erupt first.

Dragging the young mage to a halt, Urki said, "That's enough of that. Now, what you need is a something to drink that will cleanse your system. Fortunately, I know just the thing." Urki began to drag the mage toward the door.

Stumbling forward, Jerrod could now add dizziness to the growing list of his woes which began with nausea, traveled quickly to headache, and went from there to cottonmouth. Still, he wasn't too woozy to realize that he didn't like the sound of what Urki was suggesting. So far, the warrior's `cure' had made him feel worse, not better.

* * * * *

Wondering what had become of her brother, who had gone to fetch Jerrod for breakfast, Enki was startled by a bloodcurdling scream of "NOOOOOOOO!" The keening wail seemed to be coming from Jerrod's room as it echoed down the corridor. The shriek went on and on as if driven by the lungs of a banshee.

"Oh no, what now?" she muttered as she began to run toward the desperate sound. "I'll bet that damn Urki has pulled another of his fool barracks room pranks. Poor Jerrod, I'll bet he wishes he'd never met us now even more fervently than he did when we dragged him off to Pond Eddy!"

Racing as fast as she could, Enki burst through the door to see a scene which was not quite what she'd expected. Jerrod was staggering toward the window with a hand over his mouth, so it couldn't be him that was screaming. Glancing to her left, Enki saw a part of the tableau which she had missed. Near the foot of Jerrod's bed stood Urki mewling like a cat in heat as he vainly attempted to swipe at the chunky, dripping fluid which covered him.

Turning to his sister, Urki moaned, "He emptied his belly all over my best traveling leathers, the rotten little toad!"

"Probably serves you right. If I know you, you were probably pulling one of your stupid practical jokes and it backfired on you," his sister replied.

Urki couldn't keep a guilty look from creeping onto his face.

"Go on," his sister chided. "Go back and clean yourself up and change. You got what you deserved. I'll take care of our sorcerous young friend here."

Shaking her head at her departing twin, Enki turned her attention back to Jerrod with a sigh. The mage was at the window providing either passersby with an unwelcome gift or the local scavengers with a more pleasing one. Soon, with one last wracking cough, Jerrod turned back toward his rescuer. "Well," Enki said, "you appear to have survived Urki's prank. Hung over, I see. Nothing much we can do about it now except eat if you can stomach it. If you can't, too bad. You had better get ready quickly either way. You and the others who are bound for the Isle of Mists sail on the next tide. Here, I'll help you get dressed."

Jerrod, suddenly noticing that he was indeed clad in nothing but his undertunic, scampered over to the armoire to retrieve his clothes. "Turn around! I'll be dressed in a moment! Ulp.."

Enki laughed. "Don't worry, Jerrod. I've seen other fellows in what you are wearing or even less. I practically grew up in a barracks. Still, if you are embarrassed, I suppose I'll look the other way."

As Enki turned away, Jerrod realized that he had practically run over to the wardrobe and both his headache and his nausea had disappeared. His mouth, if anything, tasted worse than before though. "Your brother seems to have cured most of the ill effects of my hangover!" he proclaimed. "His methods do seem a little harsh. Do you think he'll be angry with me for vomiting on him?" Jerrod asked as he donned his trousers.

"Can I turn back now?" Without waiting for a response, Enki faced Jerrod once more. "I think that Urki would just soon forget this little incident ever happened. He is fond of his practical jokes, but I don't think that this one turned out quite the way he had planned," the young warrior laughed. "If you don't mention it, I doubt he will."

Having by this time gotten most of his clothes on, Jerrod began to pull on his boots. As he bent down, a touch of nausea passed through him again. Mild though it was, it appeared that Urki's cavalier administration of his so-called "remedy" to the young mage hadn't completely cured the aftereffects of the alcohol from the night before. "Your brother said something about some sort of concoction that would help get rid of my hangover, do you think he might still be willing to administer it to me?"

Enki shook her head and sighed. "Jerrod, I understand that you are feeling somewhat numb from the wine you imbibed last night. Try to understand this though: Urki was playing a prank on you. A stupid one, it must be said, but a prank nonetheless. I'm sure he would be glad to continue it, should you really want him to. The drink he would devise for you might even cure you, but I think you might be a little better off if you go and eat a hearty breakfast. Even if that sounds less than appealing right at this moment, trust me it will help. Now collect your gear, as I said, you sail on the next tide. When you are ready, meet us in the great hall."

Jerrod took Enki's advice. After collecting his gear, he went out and wandered around until he found one of Kahlan and Springbuck's retainers and got directions to someplace where he could break his fast. He proceeded to eat far more than he had thought possible and found that Enki was right -- it did make him feel much better. Once he had finished, Jerrod went back to his room and grabbed his equipment and set off in search of his companions.

The young mage found his friends in the great hall where they had had their first meeting with Springbuck and Kahlan. The two rulers of Rendor were once again there to talk with the eight adventurers. The last time the regents had been there to greet the little band upon their arrival in Rendor, this time it was to wish them well in their journey as they left. Now, Jerrod remembered, the number of their company had increased to nine. Berit was also in the ilvan rulers' great hall. Like the others, she was dressed for travelling in serviceable leathers.

When she saw that Jerrod was looking her way, Berit smiled at him. The young mage got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He quickly looked away. Jerrod wasn't quite sure how he felt about Berit yet. He did like her, but somehow he had hoped that he and Neun Ja might become closer. If he got to close to Berit, it might make romance with Neun Ja completely unreachable and that was proving difficult enough as it was. Besides, he didn't really even know Berit yet. After all, he had just met her.

The others were conversing with one another and the two regents about all sorts of things related to the upcoming trip. Kahlan and Urki were discussing the dispatch of an ilvan navy ship with the five travelers who would seek the Isle of Mists. At the moment, the two were conferring over the finer points of the chain of command aboard ship. Urki, frowning, was trying to convince Kahlan that she needed to make sure that her captain understood that he was at the complete disposal of the adventurers. The ilvan military leader, smiling innocently, remained somewhat skeptical about the need to go beyond the command that she had already issued ordering the ship to take Urki and his comrades where they needed to go. Despite Urki's ardent exhortations, nothing he said appeared to be having any effect on the ilvan regent. A few feet away, Kahlan's spouse was engaged in a more amicable conversation with Urki's twin about how the other four adventurers would be able to arrange passage to the pirate holdings.

Meanwhile, the other adventurers talked among themselves. Brianna, the one human who more than matched the ilfs' lofty stature, was looking slightly down at a disappointed-looking Berit as they talked about what was known of the Isle of Mists in the ilvan records and tales of the past. The shaman's husband and Neun Ja were raptly discussing the differences and the similarities between the urban and rural approaches to stealth. The last of the adventurers, Derazha and Ordolf, were talking to Nynaeve. From where he was, Jerrod couldn't make out what they were discussing, but Ordolf looked miserable, Derazha looked slightly irritated, and Nynaeve looked like a thunderhead looking for a place to strike. The physical contrast between the nondescript, almost pudgy human mage and his tall, graceful, silver-haired ilvan love had struck Jerrod as remarkable over the last two days, now the emotional contrast nearly matched it.

Derazha, noticing Jerrod, motioned him over with a wave of her hand. "Jerrod, come over here. There's something which we need to discuss with you!" she called.

Sighing with reluctance, Jerrod trudged toward the trio. He wasn't too keen on the idea of getting involved in two lovers' parting. That was never wise. He couldn't figure out why Derazha was involved though.

"Hello, Jerrod," said Ordolf looking slightly chagrined. "Nynaeve has something she would like to require, er, request of you...."

"That's right, Jerrod, since Ordolf here can not meet my need," cut in Nynaeve. "Perhaps you will be more supportive," the ilvan noble said, glancing acidly at the necromancer. "I want someone to look out for my daughter. I know she is an adult, but I would feel better if both Derazha and someone else were looking out for her. And you mustn't tell her that I asked. She would be quite annoyed with me."

Flabbergasted, Jerrod began to stutter. "I don't,... uh, that is, I'm not,... er, well, that is to say....Um, I'd be honored, ma'am. Although I'm not sure I'm qualified. After all, I'm younger than she is and I haven't really had too much experience."

"Beggars can't be choosers, but I'm sure you will be just fine. Ordolf says that you are very talented and if you have learned anything from your mentor, you are certainly bound to be formidable. Besides, I'm sure that Berit will be able to care of herself, it's just that a mother worries, you know?" Nynaeve smiled wanly. "I just want to be sure that my child is being taken care of." The ilvan woman continued as she sent another frown stabbing at Ordolf once more, "And since it would appear that you and Derazha are the only ones willing to help me, I will just have to rely on your help."

Jerrod gulped as he tried to surreptitiously slip away. "I'm happy to oblige, ma'am," the young mage smiled weakly then, failing in his attempt at subtlety, turned and fled. Jerrod was in such a hurry to flee the nearly silent spat between Nynaeve and Ordolf that he failed to pay attention to where his feet were taking him. Unfortunately for the youthful wizard, his feet were not terribly discerning about where they placed themselves and they led him straight into the back of Wolf. Jerrod caromed off of the ranger's broad, muscular torso like a nine-pin and found himself sprawled on the floor.

The bearded woodsman turned from his conversation with Neun Ja with a start. Seeing Jerrod sprawled on his backside, Wolf chuckled and offered him a hand up. "Careful, lad. I don't blame you for escaping that conversation over there, but you might hurt yourself and I don't doubt but we'll need each and everyone of us at full strength before our journey is through if we are to survive. Are you all ready to travel?" the ranger asked.

Jerrod gratefully accepted the helping hand that he had been offered. "I suppose so. I hadn't really even unpacked from the voyage here. So I'm as ready as I was then. My traveling clothes are bit more soiled perhaps, but I can take care of that with a simple cantrip. At least this time we aren't being chased out of town," he replied as he rose.

It seemed everyone else who was to leave on the ilvan warship was also ready to depart. One by one, they began to head for the door and through it toward the harbor. When they arrived at the docks, they saw the vessel which Kahlan had commandeered for them. A long, sleek craft, it appeared to have been created of a single piece. Though far longer from stem to stern that the Mermaid's Tit had been, the ilvan craft exhibited neither the width of beam nor the seams and joins that had characterized that ship. Its sides looked as sleek as those of an otter, making the warcraft fairly glisten with a look of predatory swiftness.

Jerrod, who was walking alongside Wolf, said, "I haven't heard anything about your plans. When do you depart? And how are you going to get from here to the corsairs' isles?"

"Well, lad, it appears that there is a thriving smuggling business which operates between Rendor and Barabel, the main port of the pirate fleet. That doesn't surprise me, after all the pirates must need to dispose of some of their loot as well as trade for what they need that their victims can't provide. Buccaneers aren't usually the type to do honest work if they can help it. No, it doesn't surprise me in the least that there is smuggling going on. What surprises me is that our host, Springbuck, seems to control it. It seems that the smugglers have been coopted by the ilvan intelligence service, and the humans running goods now operate as an auxiliary to the spies of Rendor. Quite a wise arrangement, but not one that most rulers are willing to condone. Springbuck not only condones it, but he uses it to his own advantage for more than just the information and the lucre that it provides. Take now for example, the canny fellow has arranged to have the four of us take ship on the next smuggling run with a cover identity as mercenaries looking for work. We sail for Barabel in a day or two."

"Once we arrive, we plan to ferret out as much information as we can. If, or rather when, we discern the whereabouts of the weapon that the rumors have told us of, then we are going determine what to do about acquiring it. If it seems as though we'll need reinforcements, we'll come back here for the rest of you and devise another strategy."

As Wolf finished, ilvan dockworkers began taking the gear that the five were bringing along aboard the ship. The horses were staying behind for this sortie. It didn't seem likely that they would need the horses on the Isle of Mists. The horses of the group that Enki led were going to have to stay in Rendor as well and, since both groups of heroes were planning to come back to the ilvan isles, there seemed little point in subjecting the steeds to the miseries of another sea voyage just yet. While their riders went off into danger, the horses were going to live for a brief period in luxury. It might be the last time.

As the equipment was being loaded, Jerrod noticed an unfamiliar ilf stop and talk to Kahlan and then head toward Urki. Dressed in a military uniform of some sort, the ilf appeared to be some type of an officer. His identity became clear when reached the male warrior bowed and said, "Greetings, sir. My name is Frothbreaker. I am the captain of the Wavestrider. My ship and my crew are at your command."

It appeared that Urki had finally convinced Kahlan of his point in their earlier discussion. It looked to Jerrod at least, that the ilf was clear about the exact nature of the chain of command for this voyage. And that chain of command seemed for now to begin with Urki.

Jerrod hoped that that would remain the case. The last thing that any expedition needed was a conflict over command. In any event, there wasn't much time to worry about it. The tide had begun to turn and was racing swiftly out to sea.

Jerrod and the other four adventurers who were seeking the Isle of Mists clambered up the gangplank and quickly took their places aboard Wavestrider. As the ship began to back water in order to leave port, there was a noisy commotion on the pier. An ilvan woman, or least it appeared to be a woman from where Jerrod stood, struggled cursing through the crowd that was watching the adventurers depart. The wizened woman, who was far older in appearance than any other ilf that Jerrod had yet seen -- so old in fact, that she was bent and twisted by the ravages of time -- was calling out, "Beware! Beware! There is evil awaiting. Should you separate, one of you will surely fall!"

Urki, who was standing near Jerrod at the stern of the vessel, turned to the captain of Wavestrider and asked, "Who is that old woman and what does she mean `one of you will fall?'"

"Well, human, I don't know what she means, but you can be fairly certain that what she is telling you is true. That is Kolenod, Kahlan's great grandmother. She is a seeress who lives alone in a cottage somewhere in the wilds of the main island of our land. She hasn't come into the city in decades, or perhaps centuries. Any who wish her advice go to see her, and even then she mostly just shoos her supplicants away telling them not to waste her last few remaining moments on Zemelia. For her to come here portends something dire indeed."

"She couldn't have come five minutes earlier while we were all still together on dry land, I don't suppose," Urki sighed. "Are you certain that her predictions are always accurate?" At the captain's nod, the warrior continued. "If we go back to the dock, when will we be able to sail again?"

"Probably not until the morrow when the next favorable tide occurs. By the time we get back to the quay and get you and your comrades on board unloaded and you and the others discuss your options, it will most likely be well past the favorable window during which we could put to sea."

"Well, it's too late now then. Were she not as powerful oracle as you say, I would not even consider returning. As it is, we have little enough time to spare if we are to be certain of finding the Isle of Mists, let alone of overcoming whatever obstacles we must face once we arrive there. Perhaps her warning is not as fell as it sounds. She did say one of us will `fall.' Although I doubt it, mayhap that means only that one of us will take a tumble. So, though I mislike it, it seems that we must sail on, captain."

Frothbreaker nodded his acceptance and turned once more to the task of commanding his ship. As the swift warship emulated its appellation and headed out to sea, Jerrod gazed back at the dwindling colors of Rendor. He fervently hoped that it would not be the last time that either he or his colleagues saw that multi-hued city. He resolved to do everything in his power to make sure that they all had the opportunity to view the splendor of Springbuck and Kahlan's capital at least once more.