The Mark of Gold

by A. S. Etaski

  “Now you will feel better,” he murmured, low enough that it would disappear on the wind.

  “Augh,” I spat into the water and swallowed several times before croaking, “Fuck you, merc. What is that? Old piss?”

  “Close. Smelling salts.”

  Whatever that was. I scowled at him until he withdrew and offered a flask.

  “Extra water to rinse,” he said. “If the wine will not sit, you might try the ale at port.”

  Wordlessly, I accepted the flask and rinsed my mouth, swallowing instead of spitting. I took another swig then passed it to him. He took it.

  “Feel better?”

  “…yes.”

  “Good sign.”

  I huffed a breath; my stomach was sore, but I relished the relative calm from moments ago. The half-breed waited with me, and I watched the Great Lake without things getting worse. I was finally becoming accustomed to it, and before I could grow unsettled again, I pulled out the Ridhian, wrapping the necklace around my gloved hand, gripping the stone in my palm so it wouldn’t drop into the water. Mourn watched with interest.

  “So, how long would this ruby retain you as a dedicated guide for Gavin and me?” I asked.

  The hybrid blinked slowly. ‘What?’ might as well have been written on his forehead. He began cautiously. “I have never parceled out measured time for each gem or coin. I do not know.”

  Try again.

  “I lost one sister,” I said, my voice tightening as sudden grief returned yet again. “I am heading to Manalar to retrieve the other. And, as nothing will stop Gavin where his mistress shows his path, we go to the same place. He told me you would be present in negotiations with the Guild, and I will be there, too, on my ally’s side. I shall be going with him.”

  Mourn stared at me. I couldn’t read him.

  “You have… ahm… you have done much to show us how much we do not know without taking advantage of it, as others have.” I looked away as my heart picked up. “My offer for trading away the Ridhian so you may close your current contract is that your next contract is with me, as my bodyguard for Manalar. Help me find enough safe food and water, as you have been doing, and protect me from capture. If I am captured, pursue me and try to free me.”

  He was silent.

  Cautiously, I lifted my eyes. He didn’t look eager.

  “That is quite a lot,” he said. “Such a bargain could last an entire siege as stated.”

  “If that is too much for one ruby, what additional price would persuade you?” I paused. “Other than the relic, any wealth I can loot, you may have.”

  Mourn stretched his Human lips, but he spoke in Davrin. “That is not wise to leave open-ended, Baenar. The looting alone will draw unexpected trouble and you may begin to kill under pressure to entice me. You also do not know what we might find that, like the black dagger, either you do not wish to or cannot give away. Altering a bargain once agreed may work in Sivaraus, but this does not work with any of To’vah blood. I would rather not show you why that is and ask you to take this on its face.”

  I exhaled in exasperation, covering up my consternation in how he spoke. What had the Davrin fucked to get a hybrid like this? I’d expected to land in this spot soon after making an offer to a male five centuries old, but I hadn’t found an angle that favored me without lying.

  “The only thing I want for a ruby that you would take regardless,” I reminded him, “is your continued tutoring and protection while I learn about the Surface.”

  “What of your Red Sister?”

  I shrugged, pursing my lips in worry. “A moot point if I cannot find her. Is this a starting point for us to bargain, yes or no, one of To’vah blood?”

  “It is a starting point, but I have concerns.”

  “Like that?”

  “The Deathless following you. Your unusually vivid dreams linked with your aura when you are aroused. The relic that the death mage keeps for you which wants to own you. Whatever you have not said about your mission and why that false sapphire is more valuable to you than it would be to any I have ever known.”

  Alright, those were a lot of concerns, and most of them I either had no control over or I could not explain it.

  I’m so stuck.

  “You mentioned trading one of my pellets to a potion maker,” I said. “Would doing so at no charge to her add enough long-term benefit to your wealth?”

  “Closer,” he replied.

  “But still not enough.”

  “It shows me you are serious. And most of my concerns could be addressed by another contact of mine in Yong-wen, if you would meet her as well.”

  “You have a lot of female contacts.”

  A low chuckle. “They are easily overlooked, and I know how to find the best among them thanks to my upbringing.”

  “A question, then, if I may?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are any also companions? Or information brokers, like many of our buas? Do they share you?”

  He blinked. Based on how he leaned away on the railing, I could imagine how his tail might have coiled if he still had it.

  He rumbled at me, his eyes glinting gold again. “I have never… never bargained for information using sex. Neither offering nor accepting. I also do not offer my skills in exchange for a mounting. I am not that easy or hard up.”

  So indignant.

  “Good to know,” I said awkwardly. “Um, I apologize for the insult, Mourn. I was not thinking I could hire you on such terms. It is relevant to know if your contacts are lovers, and a wise question to ask oneself in Sivaraus. It is a frequent pitfall at Court not to know in advance or try to find out. Do you not see that?”

  He took a deep breath, slowly let it out. “Yes. I can see that. And to answer you, no. None of the female contacts I would bring you to are my current playmates.”

  “Do you have a current playmate?”

  “No.”

  “Are any of these contacts a past playmate?”

  He hesitated, exhaled irritably. “One is.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said in Trade. “Not Osgrid, is she?”

  At least he smiled a little at that. “No. Not Osgrid. I do not know where she is, anyway.”

  So, the hybrid knew how to fuck, but Goddess damn me if I could determine his experience relative to his age. Did it matter? Not for what aid I needed from him. It was only that niggling detail Gavin had told me after I’d invaded his dreams again.

  “Mourn has been wise and has left your vicinity when you begin dreaming. He senses something but has practiced defenses which give him warning.”

  He sensed something. Hm.

  The half-blood had also left when I’d been unbearably randy riding to Port Fortnight; whether by scent or spying, he knew what I’d been doing. He’d fled, warned away by his keen senses, and approached only after I’d finished. That was a concern of my own: my potential bodyguard running away any time I needed to rub some tension out. No surprise, truly, after enduring a Priestess-Matron for an Aunt.

  “So,” I began, “the ruby, one pellet, and meeting a specific contact in Yong-wen to address some concerns. Before you decide whether to guard me in seeking my sister in Manalar. Is that where we stand?”

  Mourn nodded. “Yes.”

  “Do you accept that I would give them in reverse order? If your concerns cannot be addressed, I want something else for the ruby and I would keep the pellet.”

  His golden eyes shone for a tick. “Fair, so long as you do bargain for the ruby if this falls through.”

  “Agreed, yes.” I paused, heard a Human rustling around in a cabin behind us, and switched to Trade. “Anything else, or anything unspoken?”

  He shook his head. “Not on my end.”

  Indeed, that seemed always the case.

  “I am hungry,” I said, waving my hand at the water. “And I lost my dinner.”

  “Yes, I noticed.” He smiled. “The boiled water should be cool enou
gh to drink, and are there enough stores from our time on shore?”

  “Only one meal.”

  “Go ahead and eat that. I agree to help obtain enough food for you at least until we determine what happens next between us.”

  I breathed out, nodded in thanks, and took my leave to go below again. For one unable to talk plainly about what mattered most, I’d expected to be in a worse position at this point. At least there was still hope for Jael. I must only meet this new contact to convince the mercenary to travel with us a while longer.

  Past an army and their siege, right into the power center of a sacred temple. Simple.

  The short remainder of the journey saw me waiting anxiously with my ally for the next Surface-dwellers with whom we would negotiate. Had Gavin and I thought to head to Augran to obtain help before traveling to Manalar, we could not have slipped ourselves and his undead mare through any perimeter with such ease.

  The Trickster of Isles approached the dense port on a sunny, late afternoon, so I was below deck anyway, although I was well aware of the changing speed of the ship as well as the proximity of others soon enough. The scent of the water became fouler, as did the noise.

  Next, Human officials of some kind boarded the boat. Mourn was up there with Captain Tremain. Tensely, I waited as unfamiliar steps and voices sounded above us, though they withdrew after a cursory glance down in the hold where Gavin and I hid in the shadows and, behind us, Nightmare did not shift one hoof. This experience repeated after setting sail down a crowded river, and not even “Pete” spoke up to give us away. If I had needed further proof of the mercenary’s connections in this city, I supposed I had it.

  The third time we docked, our guide returned to join and stay this time. Mourn looked ready to leave. “We’re in Yong-wen. It is dusk outside but put your hood up anyway.”

  We did, Gavin leading his horse by her lead up the ramp which was finally dropped again. We passed the ship’s crew coming down to grab the supplies which were double- or triple-knotted in some cases. Pete glared at me on the way by.

  I made it a point to observe as Mourn interacted with the ship’s leader and upper crew on his way out. I saw their hands move. It seemed familiar, as if I should recognize it, but there were new or invented signs that broke the intent for me. I spotted what I believed was an exchange of gratitude, and few men gave us a second glance as we left their ship and entered the enclave of Yong-wen.

  There was a great mix of doings close to the water, many goods and property being moved, many bodies trying to stay out of the way. I saw dark wood panels and a pale plaster lining the river, large buildings stacked two or three floors tall, which would aid in conducting business. It was drab, however, utilitarian, with every spare finger-width taken up with something useful, a building, door, pathway, crate or barrel.

  I leaned to Mourn. “A riverside place to store?”

  He signed an affirmative. “Puang-shao.”

  I shook my head like I needed the water out. “What?”

  He slowed down. “This dock storage is called ‘poo-ang shuh-oww’.”

  He’d done something oddly familiar with his tone at the end. I stared. “That cannot be any dialect of Trade.”

  “It is not. It is Yungian.”

  “You are fluent in the language?”

  “Very. It was the first Human language I took time to learn.”

  “Puang-shao,” Gavin repeated slowly though not exact. “A close Trade translation?”

  “Simple enough,” Mourn replied. “Outdoor Fish Road.”

  Neither Gavin nor I had a reply, at first.

  “Fish Road?” I repeated.

  “Literally a river,” Gavin pondered. “I can see it. Interesting.”

  “The Yungian language is older than some areas where Humans established their roots. It shows in some of the primitive ideas in their words, though do not mistake it for lack of nuance. It is an anchored and complex language.”

  I wondered what “anchored” meant to the Dragonblood if we weren’t talking ships but was soon distracted by the crash of scents walking down the piers and boardwalks.

  These Humans permeated everything here. Not only their bodies and clothes, but their foreign spices and crafts loaded up the crates, moved by horse and cart among rows and rows of temporary storage. The din was the worst of it as the noise battered my ears while any understanding of the talk slid away. No one was speaking Trade but this unfamiliar “old” language with which the mercenary was comfortable. I felt too far from home.

  Amid the heavy labor, negotiations, inspections, and eavesdropping in close quarters, most were too focused on maintaining their space and task to scrutinize three new arrivals with an old, tired mare.

  It wasn’t until we slipped past this warehouse on the river that I discovered Yong-wen near-bursting with colors. It was a pity that the Sun had set. On a clear day, this Human settlement would be aesthetically gifted at a level closer to Sivaraus, the first of its kind I had seen on the Surface. If Mourn had much to do with seeing this place grow, then Yong-wen must offer him selection aplenty for those “quality crafts” he’d boasted to collect.

  Following the taller male and walking next to Gavin, I risked making prolonged eye contact with many people walking, running, and pulling carts along the cobbled street going the other way. I also peered high up, as often as I could without tripping over a cobble or a dung pile.

  All the roofs were slanted, their lines curved in similar ways, curled at the corners. This gave the town a singular style that seemed less chaotic than the docks. They were layered with earth-red tiles to shed rain, their eaves decorated with metal flowers or vines. Columns of dressed wood or stone served as relief against endless wooden panels. Doors were not only stained dark red but carved with relaxing patterns or painted with murals of waterfalls, gardens, and Humans dressed in finer robes and fabrics than those working industriously around me.

  I also noticed the Dragon motifs all over: the door murals, the carvings on columns, panels, and eaves, as well as occasional metalwork tips on the curved rooftops. This did not count the clusters of decorated pots growing and cradling fragrant flowers and herbs suspended from the upper floors, from windows and balconies with chains or rope. In addition, the street was dotted with red and yellow parchment-like balls glowing from the inside, acting as lanterns to illuminate the main path.

  I could not help but be struck by the difference in appearance between the paler Humans at Brom’s Inn and aboard our ship, and those of this “enclave” that Mourn said began only three centuries ago.

  Yungian eyes were familiar to me in their shape, though smaller in the face and possessing a different balance with those round ears. Their eyes tilted upwards and were feline-shaped over the rounder, wide-set eyes of the Paxians. Yungian skin was deeper in color than most I’d seen, somewhat like Cris-ri-phon’s Desert brown skin, and they favored black, straight hair like Mourn’s, or occasionally a deep brown, as a people. I spotted no blondes or redheads like those at the Inn or on the boat, nor anything remotely approaching the cloud-white, near translucent skin like of the Ma’ab.

  I beheld many examples of the men and women, along with some children. The women were slender, smaller in stature next to the men, who were not stout giants by comparison like the Ma’ab. It was remarkably close to Sivaraus, if one swapped the caits and the buas, more so than the Paxians had been.

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite as far from home. Perhaps Mourn had felt the same in discovering Yung-An?

  Our guide looked over his shoulder in his altered, Human face and gestured for us to slide off to the side of the flowing bodies. We had no reason to balk, and soon we stood within a narrow, straight pathway between two multi-story buildings, deep in shadow. Gavin’s mare blocked us from plain view from the street. The death mage and I looked at each other as if to gauge which of us would ask what we were doing this time.

  A moment later, that question was ans
wered when the half-breed grimaced, and I watched his ears lengthen and his skin darken beneath his hood, his harness reappearing on a shirtless chest. His fangs and metallic, Dragon’s eyes returned with the shifting of his brow and jaw.

  Next, Mourn’s tail appeared to grow down from behind him, slithering out from beneath his cloak and coiling briefly around his own ankle in a testing flex before relaxing. His claws emerged again from his fingertips, as did those on his feet, including the heel-spurs.

  Briefly, I sniffed a concentrated scent and heat from him which reminded me of a stressed or injured animal.

  Wait. Is his appearance not an illusion like ours?

  “Did you just—?”

  I stopped to hear footsteps and Mourn turned around as I made out their shape. Three of them. Male, Yungian, dressed better than the dock workers in decorated, long-sleeved shirts which looked smooth to the touch. Their faces were firmly set, near frowning, with carefully trimmed facial hair around the mouth and chin. Unfamiliar herbs and spices hovered around them in a cloud. A young, thin boy who began to enter the alley stopped quickly when he saw the men’s backs and immediately turned around to leave.

  Mourn pulled down his hood and offered a magical light by a pebble in his palm. His beast-Elf face and even his horns were quite clear, yet the Yungians did not jump back as I’d expected.

  “Jiu-wen sha’ming,” he said to Mourn, offering a formal bow at the waist, his spine kept perfectly straight.

  The half-breed put his clawed hands out, showing them empty, and replied in a low thrum, “Jiu-yan’shi.”

  I would have said that the men looked pleased, although expression was as subtle as some Davrin at Court. There were a few formal exchanges, and from reading their bodies and hands, I guessed that they simply wanted to know what our purpose was here.

  Mourn motioned to our hoods. “Let them see your faces. I will remove the illusion.”

  Gavin tensed. “Here?”

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  “Murei Shuang, an elder father, and his two sons, Baenfing and Wei.”