"One can never go back to where they once were." It was the only statement that resonated with Enis from his interview with the Mariner.
The flotilla of ships that Evette was happy to assemble for the reinvestment of Waykeep had run into weather problems very early on their voyage. The ships were filled to the gunnels with people, mostly men who had gotten excited over Enis' arena theatrics, but also a decent number of women and children who felt ignored by the Convocation in general. For all the talk of Kiyami and his stories in their various gatherings, no Ladies or Matrons chose to sail with Enis.
The ships were meeting with high winds and storms that prevented them from landing anywhere near the Mariners Log stone pillar, the marker to the path that led through a forest and gained altitude quickly to emerge at the goal of Waykeep and the mountain pass behind it. Enis had given out that the voyage across the channel and to their destination would be a relatively short jaunt, but he had been wrong and the overcrowded people on the boats were disenchanted and getting angry.
A ship approached the armada from the south in a break in three days of storm and wind. It was the Salvation, the flag ship of the legendary Mariner himself, which put out a longboat and requested Enis come to meet God's servant. Weslyn chose to go with him just for curiosity's sake.
It was a short interview and Weslyn and a few flotilla captains that accompanied the group were not allowed inside. Enis reported the Mariner's instructions, that that the ships should turn north from their planned landfall and make for a swampy estuary that could be identified with tall reeds. The captains were grumbly at best and it was Weslyn that settled down the rancor, both on the Salvation and later on the ships as they began to turn their courses north. Almost like a miracle, the storms blew off, the skies cleared, and the seas became calm. The ships moved effortlessly on their new course.
Although Wes worked diligently to settle the unhappy passengers, there was only so much that he could do. The west coast on the far side of the channel from the island of Firsthome was nothing like the soft beaches elsewhere. It was rocky and only occasionally punctuated by tufts of tall grasses that came right to the water's edge. Behind the shore were stony cliffs, giving no place to land even for small longboats except to embark a volunteer for or two to begin scouting the terrain more closely. Reports coming back were that the prospects were every bit as bad as the cliffs seemed and there were no better situations present than the estuary that the Mariner had specified further north.
"I hope you are not planning to leave this ship." The voice was soft yet menacing that almost blew in Weslyn's ear. He knew the voice and sighed deeply.
Slowly he turned around to face the expected member of the Conclave. He didn't believe for a moment that any of that group were motivated by Enis' mission. "Keeping tabs on me?"
The man kept an even look and shrugged. "You are far too valuable for us to let you participate in some fool's errand."
"So," Weslyn shook his head, "Why didn't you prevent me from getting on this boat back at the docks?"
Again, another shrug. "You are the spokesman. It wouldn't be proper to give the appearance that you are being managed. Besides, we want you to speak well of the Conclave and its purposes."
Weslyn smirked. "Oh. Has the group actually settled on what your purpose is?"
"There is still some confusion about that." The man produced a manufactured yet sheepish grin. "Just a little more time..."
"...And a few more bodies..." Wes didn't entertain any ignorance of the group he was playing about with.
The man's smile broadened. "...and things will become very clear. I notice you used a fake name to join this fleet, according to the passenger list. These captains keep such copious records."
"Not a fake name, just a new one. I think it is high time that I present my allegiances more openly."
The man crinkled his brow. "And what does the name Kiyomai symbolize?"
Weslyn looked deeply into the man's eyes. "It is a derivation of the name Kiyami, the righteous son of Alaedeus and Cassandra."
"Never heard of any of them." There was no accounting for historical intelligence here. "Anything interesting I should learn about them? I don't move in 'righteous' circles."
Weslyn tried to make his face expression-less but he failed. "Obviously."
The man seemed tired of this banter, moved to Wes' side, and poked him carefully with a long, sharp knife. "This is just a reminder that I have my eyes, or rather a blade, on you, Kiyomai." The name came out like spit. "When we get back to the docks at Manatoa, I expect both you and I to get off this boat and meet up with our compadres to execute our plan. To my understanding, you are to be the face of that plan."
Something inside Weslyn or Kiyomai told him that he would indeed need to ride herd yet again on the erratic Conclave and minimize any damage it may try to inflict. "Fine," the young man breathed quietly. "Perhaps I will become familiar with 'the plan' that I am meant to speak about. Regardless," the young man took a breath, "I'm with you."
The man retracted his knife. "I'm glad to hear that." He began to move away. "I will see you on the docks."
A few days later, as predicted, the flotilla sighted the estuary and anchored far out as not to be stuck upon the shallow effluent sands the delta spewed into the channel. There was already the rank smell of rotting vegetation from the shore and complaints came fast and thick. An undercurrent of unwillingness to move forward was obvious from the crowds on each ship's top deck.
The captain aboard Enis' boat approached the Waykeep wild-man. "Surely there is a better place to make landfall further north..."
The big man shook his head. "The Mariner was quite adamant that this estuary is our embarkation point. We get off here."
The captain threw up his hands. "Your group is nearly to the point of revolt. No one wants to leave the boats and make land, or rather 'swamp', here!"
"No one who doesn't want to get off the boat will be required to do so." Enis called out with a loud voice. "All ashore who are going ashore!"
Enis clung to the Jacob's ladder flung overboard, making his way down hand over hand until he could leap into the shallow water and sink to his knees. A small group of other men followed dutifully behind the big man, to the jeers of people draped over the gunwale, calling them fools. Enis waved to the other boats and other men and a scattering of women trudged through the deep mud to reach their leader.
The group slogging through the estuary were a small subset of the crowds that were on the boats. Various loud voices were indicating that no more people were interested in following the Waykeep Leader.
As a response to the reluctance to go forward from the people still on their ships, Enis simply waved a very definite 'goodbye' and, with a turn, began leading the embarked group into the estuary.
One of the sport-fighters from the arena days splashed up to the big man. "Are we really going to go to Waykeep with so few people? Is that going to work?"
Enis turned to his fellow fighter. "Rendlyn, what gives you the idea that I know what's going to happen next? We are trusting God here, just like the crowds always chanted."
"Is this part of the plan? The ship are moving off! We are stuck here!" Rendlyn flung a hand toward the retreating ships and many of the other people who trudged through the estuary turned at the motion and looked back in dismay.
"Hmm." Enis faced the situation fully and shook his head. He raised his arms to get everyone's attention. "The Mariner warned me that none of us will be able to return to the lives we have known." He threw an arm toward the fleeing ships. "Those who hope to return to Manatoa and the Convocation will find their lives overturned, perhaps more than our lives will be." The man turned back and began moving slowly to the head of the delta plain. "The invaders we must overcome still lie before us."
Rendlyn was shaking his head, but dutifully followed his fellow sport-fighter forward.