Voyage of the Fox Rider by Dennis L. McKiernan

days later in the heart of the night the
Eroean
haled into the sheltered port of Arbalin, the citizens of that town being awakened by their own criers ringing out the good news that the Elvenship was back.
    All the next day and the one after the cargo was unladed, and new ballast was taken on to replace the weight of the porcelain ware, for it would not do to have the
Eroean
turn turtle at the first strong wind or great wave. When the ship was empty of cargo and laded with the proper ballast, Aravan had her tugged away from the docks to anchor in the bay.
    He set the crew free to “do the town,” and knowing the crew as well as he did, he knew that most of them would try.
    It was on the following night that Aravan heard a knock on his stateroom door, and when he opened it,an eld Man, nay Elf—nay, Mage!—stood at the end of a line of wet footprints leading to the portal.
    Astonished, Aravan stepped back.
    “Are you Aravan the captain?” snapped the elder.
    Aravan nodded. “Aye, that I am.”
    “Well don’t just stand there gaping, Elf. Invite me in. We’ve got things to discuss.”

    “A Hidden One, a Fox Rider, thou sayest?” Aravan’s mind flashed back to an earlier time, his hand touching a blue stone amulet on a leather thong about his neck, the Elf remembering Tarquin.
    Alamar nodded, steepling his fingers.
    Passing back Jinnarin’s tiny drawing of the dark ship, Aravan took up his glass of brandy. “I know nought of crystal castles, nor of lightning-driven black galleons plying the oceans of the world. But of a pale green sea, there are several candidates, though in many places elsewhere the waters run green as well.”
    The Mage shook his head, then looked pointedly at the empty goblet before him.
    Quickly, for the third time, Aravan poured a dram or two within.
    Alamar took up the brandy-filled crystal and held it to the lantern light, peering deep within the golden swirl. “Even so, you will aid us, neh?”
    “I wouldn’t miss it for all the world,” answered Aravan, his smile wide in delight.
    “Good!” barked Alamar, tossing down the liquid. “When?”
    “The crew returns eight days from now. Is that soon enough?”
    “I suppose it’ll have to do,” grunted Alamar.
    Aravan held up a finger. “One condition though…”
    The Mage cocked an eyebrow, his emerald gaze locked with Aravan’s eyes of sapphire. “And that is…?”
    Aravan did not look away. “Just this, Alamar: I do not ask my crew to do aught without their full knowledge of what it is I would have them attempt. On the
Eroean
we have this saying: Information is power. And in the sharing of information, many a good idea has come forth—some from where least expected. And so, on thismission, I would take my crew into full confidence, which means they will hear of the Hidden One, of—”
    “Of Jinnarin,” supplied Alamar.
    “Aye, of Jinnarin. I would introduce this Fox Rider to the crew.”
    Alamar got to his feet. “I will ask her…yet unless and until she agrees…”
    “Until she agrees,” said Aravan, looking up at the Mage. “I will speak nought of thy business. But unless she agrees, I will not commit my crew, for I would not have them set forth on a mission in ignorance.”
    Alamar nodded, then spun on his heel, stepping to the door, flinging it open.
    Aravan raised his voice, calling after the retreating Mage. “Need thou someone to row thee to the docks? I will fetch thee aid.”
    Without turning—“Never mind, Elf,” Alamar called back, “I’ll go the way I came.” In that moment, the stateroom door swung to.
    Aravan sat for a while after the Mage had gone, staring at the shut door. Then he tossed down the last of his brandy and stood and made his way to the deck. Of Alamar there was no sight, and Aravan’s keen Elven hearing heard not the plash of oars.
    “Burdun,” he called, the watch hurrying to his side.
    “Sir?”
    “Where away the boat that ferried the eld Man from the docks?”
    A puzzled