by Tim Stead
“Where are you staying?”
She turned and looked at the captain. Nowhere. She had arranged nothing, and had not even considered it. How ill prepared she must seem.
“I have not yet decided. Is there anywhere that you would recommend?”
Brand looked uncomfortable. “I usually stay aboard, Ima Caledon, but there are many inns in the town.”
“I know it is an imposition, captain Brand, but may I stay aboard for one day? That will give me time to choose a suitable place.”
“Of course, Ima,” he replied.
She felt pleased. It was a problem avoided, and she was sure that by the following evening she would have secured something suitable for as long as she needed it. Perhaps she could even travel back to Pek on the same vessel.
She leaned on the rail and studied the throng of people. They seemed similar to the people who hung around the docks in Yasu, and those who did the same in Pek. It was busier than either, but the difference was only a matter of scale. There was a tavern on the waterfront, a place that seemed to do a great trade, centrally placed and well kept, and so after a while she stopped watching and went down onto the shore, feeling the thrill of a new place in spite of herself. She made her way to the tavern’s imposing double doors, thrown open to the summer day. A great sign hung above them proclaiming that its name was the Shining Wake, and advertising food and ale.
She went inside. It was a dark place, cool compared with the dockside, and the smell of rich food mingled with the smells of ale and sweat. The people within seemed a strange mix. Most were what she would have expected – rough men who made their living here – but there was a sprinkling of others, well dressed men and women who sat apart and kept themselves to themselves, usually in groups.
She pushed through the throng to the bar and after a while managed to catch the landlord’s eye. He leaned across the bar to catch her voice in the general noise, and she asked for a glass of wine, which he brought quickly. The price seemed high, but the taste was quite fine. She caught the man’s eye again before he turned to the next customer.
“I’m looking for a man,” she said.
The landlord shrugged. “Plenty here,” he said.
“A particular man,” she said. “Karnack. A guardsman out of East Scar.”
The man shook his head again. “So many come and go,” he said. “I don’t know the names – only the ones who come a lot.”
She hadn’t expected news. In a place so large it would be better to rely on those who knew the city.
“Is there a Kalla House here?” she asked.
“Not by that name,” he replied. “But we have a House of Law – it’s where they see to matters of justice if that is what you seek.”
“Thank you.” She said. “I have a warrant for the man Karnack, and must deliver it there. Can you tell me where it is?”
“In the Old City, close to Morningside. It would be easier to ask someone on the street, Ima, someone who can point you the way.”
She nodded. It was sound advice, as she knew none of the streets, and none of the districts in the city. She sipped her wine. It was really quite good, she decided, though she was hardly an expert in the matter. She studied the people around the bar again. Many of the better dressed people were eating, so perhaps it was the food that brought them here. If she was here for the evening perhaps she would eat here as well.
“You should be careful what you say.”
The voice spoke in a Scar accent, and close to her ear, but it was unnecessarily loud. She turned and saw that a man was standing very close to her, staring at her, and looming over her. He was tall, looked well built, and was dressed like a guardsman. He was also clearly quite drunk, although it was very early in the day. For a moment she thought that it was Karnack, her quarry, suddenly in front of her, and she was afraid, but very quickly she saw that it was not.
“I will say what I wish,” she snapped back at him. Then she saw that there were two of them, both guardsmen, and both from East Scar.
The man looked at her face. She could feel his drunken eyes tracing the line of the scar across her cheek. It felt almost obscene.
“You should watch it,” he said. “It’s bad to slander good men.”
“Good men? Karnack is a murderer, and he cheats at cards,” she said, not knowing why she felt the need to provoke these men. She could sense the danger, but it didn’t seem to matter. The other man, the one who had not spoken, did not look drunk at all. He stepped forward and put a hand on his companion’s shoulder to steady him.
“You should let us see that warrant,” he said.
“I don’t think so.”
“You’ve got it on you, haven’t you,” the man demanded. “We could help you. Let us see it.”
“No.”
The man took a step forwards, the left hand finding the hilt of his dagger. His drunken friend put his hand to his sword. Felice pulled out her own knife, Jem’s gift. The guardsman smiled.
“Do you know how to use that?” he asked.
“I know which end to stick into you,” she said, managing a bravado that she did not feel. How had she got herself into this situation? She was picking a fight with these men, men skilled with weapons who were twice her size, men who could certainly outrun her if she tried to escape. She heard noises behind her, chairs scraping, and the sound of people moving back. The buzz of conversation died away. A man appeared standing beside her, and she spared him a glance. He was a sailor, and his knife was drawn.
“At your service, Karana,” the man said, nodding. His accent was Pekkan, but she didn’t recognise him.
“Ah, she’s got a ship rat,” the guardsman remarked to his drunken friend.
Other men stepped forwards from behind her, and she guessed that they were all Pekkan sailors, people who thought that she was mataga, a weather witch, and an asset worth protecting. The guardsman looked less happy now, faced with six blades and only a drunken comrade to back him, but both of them drew swords as the space around them grew. Felice didn’t want the sailors to die for her, but didn’t know how to stop it happening. Sailors were no match for guardsmen, even five of them would be lucky to win out. If she gave them the warrant it would stop, and nobody would die, but it would be a betrayal of her brother, and worse than that, a murderer would go free.
“I think that’s enough.”
All heads turned, and Felice saw a girl of about her own age, as slightly built as herself. She wore a simple black dress which brought her pale skin into shocking contrast with her thick, dark hair, worn loose about her face. She wasn’t pretty, but she looked confident, and why not? At her back stood the sort of man that should always stand at your back. He wasn’t massively tall or broad, he wasn’t exactly young, and there was a touch of grey at the sides of his close cropped hair, but he looked indestructible, as though killing men was a job like sharpening a sword – something routine. He wore plate armour on his chest and appeared armed to the teeth. If he was alone in a room you’d think there was a fight going on.
“Put your blades away,” the girl said. The two guardsmen did so at once. They were looking at the man in armour, and Felice was sure that they knew who he was. The sailors were slower to comply, but when they saw the guardsmen had obeyed they did the same. Felice was the last to sheath her blade.
“Good,” the girl said. “Now, what was this about?”
Nobody spoke. Felice didn’t know who this girl was, although she must wield some power to have a man like that behind her. She glanced around the room, but saw no prospect of assistance. She was in the midst of strangers.
The girl walked up to her and looked her in the eyes. Felice felt that this other girl could read her mind, so penetrating was her stare. She dropped her eyes from the contact.
“You’re the odd one out,” the girl said. “What started it?”
“Nothing,” Felice replied.
The landlord appeared beside the girl, giving every sign of deference.
> “With your permission, Karana?”
She smiled at him, and it was a good smile. “When did you ever need my permission for anything, Shabrin?”
“Since you started licensing taverns,” he replied. She laughed. The landlord turned to Felice. “Ima,” he began. “You may trust the lady Ella with your business, or indeed with your life. She is the trader guild representative on the King’s council, and most dedicated to justice. She has been a good friend to this tavern, to the city, and is known to the Mage Lord himself.”
Felice looked at the girl with new eyes. So young and yet holding such a position! She made a small but polite bow to the girl. The decision to trust her was an easy one. Such a figure in such a public place could do nothing other than support her case against Karnack.
“I am the trader Felice Caledon, of East Scar, the daughter of Marcos Caledon. My brother, Todric was murdered by a man in the port town of Yasu, a man whom he had caught cheating at cards. I bear a sworn warrant from the Yasu Kalla House, all in good order, presenting the evidence and requesting his arrest and trial for the deed.”
“And the argument with these two?”
“I believe they are friends of the criminal – a guardsman called Karnack. They wanted to destroy the warrant.”
The lady Ella turned to the two men.
“You know this Karnack?”
The sober guardsman bowed. “We do have the honour to know him, my lady,” he said. The man’s tone was defiant. “We have both served with him on several occasions, and he has proven a true and trustworthy friend, as well as a fine soldier.”
“So you would not consider the charges against him to be possible?”
“Mistaken identity.”
The Lady Ella shrugged. “It is a matter that will have to be determined by the Guardians of the law,” she said. We will all go the House of the law and you will present the warrant there. These men will come with us as witnesses, since it is clear that they know the man and may have knowledge of his whereabouts.”
The guardsmen looked as though they might protest, but the formidable figure that accompanied the girl appeared behind them and placed a scarred hand on the shoulder of each of them.
“Quietly now,” he said. They stayed silent, but nodded.
Back out on the street they moved effortlessly through the throng on the dockside, the crowds parting for them and keeping a respectful distance. They moved away from the sea along streets paved with smooth, rounded stones and lined by people selling an unimaginable array of things from carts, small tables and even just laid out on the ground. Felice had to resist an urge to stop at several of the makeshift stalls. There were things here that aroused her curiosity, strange new things.
“You have travelled from East Scar?”
Felice looked up to see Ella walking beside her. She seemed genuinely curious.
“That is where I live,” she replied. “We were trading in Yasu, on the coast. I have followed Karnack from there.”
“It is a long journey. I have never travelled so far.” There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice, a spark in her eyes. “Was it a good voyage?”
Felice took a deep breath and began to recount her tale. She tried to make it sound plain and workaday, but even to her own ears it began to resemble the fabrication of a considerable imagination. Ella listened without interruption, but after a while Felice began to feel dizzy and out of breath. She staggered slightly, knocking against her companion and reaching out for support.
“You are not well,” Ella said. She took Felice’s arm and guided her to the side of the road, helped her to sit on a convenient low wall. “Forgive me,” she said. “Your adventures quite took my mind off the present.” She turned to her soldier. “Kane, do you have water?”
The big man produced a leather bottle and handed it to Ella, who helped Felice to drink. The liquid was warm, but she could feel it working its magic. She drank a second mouthful.
“I will be well in a moment,” she said. “It is just that I am a little weak. I should have stayed longer in Pek.” She closer her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. There was a sick taste in her mouth, but after a while she felt a little restored.
“It’s not far now,” Ella said.
She stood again. Ella insisted on helping her, and they walked slowly on.
“Tell me about you,” Felice asked.
“Me? You mean the position? It sounds grand, does it not? I assure you that I did nothing to deserve it. I’m a trader’s daughter, like you. My father is Tarlyn Saine, head of the oldest and greatest trading house in Samara,” she spoke with pride. “He is a clever man, and wise, mostly. Anyway, there was some trouble between the King and the guild. It was in the days before the fall of the Faer Karan, and everything was a mess here. So my father did a deal with Tarnell, and I was fostered with the king while Calaine lived in our house. She certainly got the better end of the deal,” Ella grinned. “The food, the beds – terrible.”
“You met the King?”
“Hard to avoid it,” Ella said. “He’s just a man, you know. I liked Calaine, though. She’s a couple of years older than me, but we get on well enough.”
It was confusing for Felice. She had always believed in her heart that noble people were different, somehow, and here was this girl, a trader’s daughter like her, who moved among the mightiest of all, The King of Samara, the heir to the throne, the King’s council, and they were just people to her. There was no awe in her voice when she spoke.
“And the Mage Lord?” she asked.
“Serhan,” she pursed her lips. “He’s different.”
“How so?”
“He is a closed book, a book full of secrets. He keeps much to himself, but he does not seem a happy man, in spite of all that power. I like him though. He cares.”
“How many times have you met him?”
“Five. He suggested that I be on the council. My father trusts me to be sensible, and the King knew me, so he accepted the proposal. I was just in the right places at the right times – or the wrong ones,” she grinned again. “It’s not much fun.”
Felice saw for a moment the girl that must have existed before great events propelled her to her position of influence; bright, distracted, interested in the things that other girls of her age were interested in. Like her. Like her just one short month ago. She was almost overwhelmed by a sense of fellow feeling, but she quickly pushed it back. By any normal measure Ella had gained, and she had lost. The similarity was not even superficial.
The reached the House of Law. It was not impressive. Felice guessed that it had once been four or five ordinary houses. There was no grand entrance, just a door. What had clearly been other doors had been bricked up. Apart from that it had all been given a coat of white paint and someone had painted two words over the entrance. “One Law” it said.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“Just what it says: that there is always one law: one law for the rich and poor, one for bandits and widows, one for friends and enemies.”
Felice understood. All who faced the law were equal, at least in theory.
The inside of the building was equally unimpressive. What had probably once been someone’s living room had acquired a counter and a few seats. A man stood, or rather slouched behind the counter. He appeared to be eating his breakfast. When he saw Ella he deftly tucked the plate under the counter and stood up in an approximation of upright. He did not look like a guardsman, or even a soldier. He wore a loose tunic, his hair was unkempt, and he was noticeably unfit.
“Karana,” he said. “How may we serve you today?”
“Good day, Ulric,” she greeted him in a friendly manner. “Is Sam about?”
“Just came in,” Ulric said. “Just go through.” He opened a gate in the counter and all of them passed through into a back room. This room, at least, was tidy. It was mostly occupied by a large desk on which various papers were slotted into trays, and the walls were lined with charts and lists
, all pinned neatly in rows and columns.
A man sat behind the desk, and he looked up as they entered.
“Ella,” he said. He smiled a tired smile.
“Sam, I hope the day finds you well.”
“As much as I could hope.”
Felice studied him. He was thin, and looked as though he had seen better times. She saw all the signs of hardship in his face, but also a hint of the clear eyed honesty that she had known in Todric. In his turn the man studied his collection of visitors. There was a nod for Kane, a cool appraisal of the guardsmen, and a curious look in her direction.
“We have a warrant for you, Sam; from Yasu.”
“Yasu! Are you bringing me every crime in the world now? Don’t we have enough of our own?” He covered his face with a hand for a moment, and then looked up at Felice. “I apologise, Ima,” he said. “May I see the paper?”
She drew it out and placed it on the desk before him. He read it carefully. His concentration seemed complete, and he appeared to read every word. When he put it down Felice felt that there was some hope for justice after all.
“He is here?”
“I am not certain,” Felice said. “But he came in on a ship about two weeks ago, at a guess. It left Yasu bound for here with no ports of call.”
The man nodded. “It will take time to discover if he is still in the city. You can stay in the area for a couple of days?”
“Yes.”
“If you let Ulric know where you are staying I will arrange for you to be informed when we have news. May I keep the document?”
Felice hesitated. He seemed to sense her reluctance.
“I will have it copied and you can have the original back when you sign the copy,” he said.
“Yes, as you wish.” She was reluctant, but this man represented the law in Samara, and Ella trusted him. Really she had no choice unless she intended to track down and punish Karnack on her own – an impossible thing.