by M. M. Perry
Gunnarr and Viola looked at him puzzled.
“They’ve been a long time without the ladies,” he suggested, grinning.
Viola punched him in the arm and he shouted out in mock pain. Gunnarr looked out to sea while the two traded sibling-like barbs with each other. He stood and walked to the railing, letting the sea air wash over him and clear his head. Nat may have been joking, but if the stories were true, that may have been why Cass had interested the Djinn so when they had first seen her all those years ago. She had described the feeling of being eyed by hungry men.
Gunnarr’s people spent their lives at sea. Women could become sailors, and some did, but most preferred not to. Many of his fellow men spent long days and nights at sea without female companions. He knew what they were like whenever they docked somewhere with a tavern or a brothel. Gunnarr’s problem however, was tapping into that need.
Viola was the only woman aboard the ship. The storm season was quickly approaching, they did not have time to turn back toward Centria and try to hunt down some women willing to come with them, and he would not ask Viola to do this thing. He had known for a while about her disinterest in men. He turned back toward Nat and Viola to see them looking up at him, waiting patiently.
“Nat, this is a good idea, but I cannot think of a way to use it fruitfully,” Gunnarr said with regret.
Nat looked surprised. He had no idea Gunnarr had taken his suggestion seriously.
“Oh! Well…” Nat thought for a minute before Viola punched him again.
“What am I? Chopped liver?”
Both Gunnarr and Nat turned to her slightly shocked.
“I just assumed,” Nat began.
“I did not think you would want…” Gunnarr explained.
“Oh please!” Viola said exasperated. “What, just because I like girls means I can’t help? Do you think if I liked men I’d be excited about wooing a bunch of tiny blue gods? That I’d find them attractive in some way? That I’d need to enjoy this mission to partake in it? Is that how men work? You’d only take advantage of an island full of man crazy women if you were into the women? What if they all had tusks for teeth and claws for hands? You’d still do it. Because that’s the job.”
Gunnarr cleared his throat, embarrassed. Of course, Viola was right.
“And,” Viola said with a wink, “They may not all be interested in a feminine touch either.”
Gunnarr and Nat looked at each other for a moment and then shrugged.
“A warrior’s gotta do what a warrior’s gotta do. Let us make plans,” Gunnarr said clapping his hands together.
Night fell on the Braldashad sailing vessel. Its huge sail slackened with the slowing winds. The fabric beat gently, irregularly, but pleasantly. The thick sound of it reached all the way down to the sleeping quarters where Nat, Viola and Gunnarr were resting in their hammocks. Gunnarr was the only of the three still awake.
He stared at the wooden ceiling listening to the soft thwapping noise of the sail and thinking. If he concentrated, he could hear the sounds of every board in the ship, slowly creaking with the sway of the boat, the ropes rubbing against their attachments, the water lapping against the thick outer wall of the boat. Somewhere, deep beneath them, he could faintly hear the comforting noise of the gigas whale pod swimming many fathoms below them. To him, they were quite lively sounding, many songs echoing through the water. He knew Nat and Viola probably could not hear them, their deep songs at too low a register for most to hear. Being a Braldashad fisherman, he had been taught very young exactly how to hear them.
He got up quietly so as not to disturb Nat and Viola. He softly stepped up on deck to see Sam puffing away on a pipe. The sailor was seated precariously on the edge of the rail, but despite the rocking of the boat, he seemed quite at home there. Gunnarr walked over and leaned against the rail. Sam offered him the pipe, but Gunnarr waved his hand in polite decline.
“I respect your people. Great fishermen. Never met their match when it came to navigating the seas. It’s a wonder actually, you invited me along,” Sam said puffing away.
“I was trained to fish and sail, as all young boys from Braldashad are. But as soon as I became a man, I took leave of my people. I’ve not had the sailing experience you have. And it was not my habit to sail to Xenor. Never had a pressing need to,” Gunnarr explained.
“Why did you leave?”
“It is our custom to arrange marriages. Our people are so spread out, it is hard to meet others who are of the marrying intention. It was coming close to the time I was to be paired off. I was not interested in marrying anyone at the time. And… my heart wanted to be a warrior.”
“Huh. Well, each to his own I suppose. I think you probably made a mistake there, but then I love the sea and always have. I prefer it to anything else. Quiet, with few people. Just the way I like it.”
Sam puffed on his pipe a bit more. Gunnarr was about to ask him another question when he suddenly stopped and gripped the railing. The sounds of the gigas had rather abruptly faded and turned.
“Nothin to worry about. We’re just getting close to Xenor. They don’t swim in the Desert. Nothing does except the skolta fish. We won’t be attacked by anything from this point on. Not in the water anyway,” Sam said ominously.
Gunnarr looked down at Sam, “Have you met the Djinn then?”
“Heh, met? No. Saw? Once. But no, they did not attack me. Didn’t even speak to me. I figured that’s why you were going to Xenor. To be honest, it was the only reason I really agreed to this. Seeing as how you keep company with gods, though, I reckon I made a mistake. My curiosity got the best of me, and I know somehow I’ll be paying for it,” Sam said spitting the last words.
“I won’t let harm come to you,” Gunnarr said solemnly.
“Think you can protect me from the gods, do ya? Hubris will take you, young sailor. Mark my words.”
Sam stared back out into the ocean, his stony silence indicating he was done talking to Gunnarr. Gunnarr had one more question to ask before he tried to go back to sleep.
“What was he like? The Djinn?”
Sam sniffed and puffed up his chest before deciding to answer, the storytelling sailor in him getting the best of him.
“Small. Blue. I wasn’t even sure at first what it was. It was very early. Just before dawn. I was fishing off Xenor. Had a good batch of skolta already but wanted another night before I headed back to Centria. Was on deck and looked at my prow and he was just sitting there, staring at the sea. Thought it was an imp at first. Something malicious. But then the sun rose. He was watching it you see, from the boat. He came there to see the sun rise over the water. I got a good look at him as the sun hit him. Blue, and kind of glittery, like some fish scales look in the light. Small feller. I’d heard tales. I knew what he was when I saw him. But I never thought to approach him. It seemed wrong somehow, to disturb him. And then, once the sun had cleared the horizon, he was gone. No trace of him. I looked and there was nothing.”
Sam puffed his pipe a few more times before turning back toward Gunnarr. His face was open looking for the first time since Gunnarr had met him, his gaze unguarded.
“Do you really think you might find them?”
Gunnarr sighed and crossed his arms as he looked toward the east where Xenor rested.
“I have no choice. I must.”
The choppy seas around Xenor as they got closer to shore made it difficult to stand upright. Sam, Viola, Nat and Gunnarr were all on deck again, working with the sails to maneuver the boat alongside the long floating dock with the lone tavern at the end. Cass had described the dock and the tavern to them in enough detail they had known what to look for. Sam said he had never gotten close enough to see it.
“You don’t need to be that close to fish for skolta. And this water is not pleasant to sail on, even for someone who’s been out to sea all their life,” Sam said gruffly.
Once the team managed to get the boat tied to a mooring on the constantly shifting dock, Gunn
arr clambered out. He noticed the dock rubbing against the boat in an almost violent manner. He watched it for a moment, looking to see if it might damage his ship. He figured it would if they docked there for too long. Gunnarr hastily constructed a backup plan for the huge Braldashadian vessel should they have to stay around longer. He planned to sail it out a little ways himself, then brave the rough waters in one of the two dinghies strapped to the ship. He made a silent prayer to several gods hoping he would not have to navigate these waters on a boat so small. He hoped they were listening and of course, that they cared enough about him to help out.
Gunnarr had to shout to be heard over the sound of the wood grinding against itself.
“Don’t lower the ramp. It won’t do any good and you’re likely to fall off,” he said as he tried to steady himself on the rocking dock. “Fasten a rope to the railing instead, to help steady yourself, and I’ll aide you as well.”
Sam tied an expert knot to the railing of the ship and helped Viola lower herself over the edge. Viola felt Gunnarr’s strong hands grip her waist as both the boat and the dock swayed beneath them. He set her on the dock only to have her almost tip over with the next swell of water. He grabbed her hand before she went over and steadied her.
“Get used to the rhythm of the motion. Have you got it?” Gunnarr asked as Viola tried to gain her balance.
After a minute Viola had figured out the pattern of the rocking and managed to keep her feet firmly planted on the shifting dock.
“This is a terrible design for a dock,” she said grumpily.
“Aye,” Gunnarr said reaching up to help Nat, “I expect it wasn’t built by many hands. We’re lucky it functions at all.”
After everyone was off the boat—both Nat and Viola surprised Sam was interested in getting off—they carefully made their way up the long dock. Several times sudden, large swells almost tipped them off. Gunnarr’s steady feet and quick reflexes kept them grounded, however, and they safely made it to land.
“I thought I would be looking forward to a strong drink, but I think even I might have lost my desire for drink out there,” Sam said.
“It’s just as well,” Nat said holding his queasy stomach, “from what Cass described the place has pretty atrocious ale. All seaweed based. She said the food wasn’t bad, but I don’t know if I’ll be ready to eat any time soon.”
They continued up the dirt path to the tavern. The tavern’s wooden planks were worn bare by the sea winds and the rough onyx colored sand that blew everywhere. If they had ever been painted, the last of the paint flakes had been blown away long ago. The windows were lit warmly from within, the most inviting thing about the barren land around them. Nat could only surmise every scrap of wood that was used to make the tavern had been brought here from elsewhere. Xenor was black and jagged everywhere he looked. There wasn’t even a bird in the sky. He could see no evidence of insects or anything animate. Barren didn’t seem a strong enough word for what Xenor was.
Gunnarr opened the tavern door and held it for his companions to pass through. Once inside the warm tavern the wind and the strangely sharp black sand stopped assaulting their faces. It was instant relief from the outside.
“Welcome,” said the man who was standing behind the bar.
He was middle aged and had unremarkable features; brown hair, brown eyes, and average height and weight. The oddest thing about him was his cheerful demeanor and his utter lack of surprise by their visit. The lack of shock was the most absurd thing about him, Viola thought, as there was no way he had frequent visitors in this middle of nowhere tavern.
“You look like you’ve had a rough voyage. I recommend something mild to start with, perhaps some boiled and salted shrimp. If you manage to calm your stomachs after that, we can start in on something more robust, fresh fish or perhaps some crab,” he said motioning toward a well-worn but sturdy looking table.
“How in the world do you have shrimp and crab to serve here?” Sam asked suddenly, surprising them all.
“I catch it. I am located right on the sea, after all,” the tavern owner said cheerfully, “Name’s Jack by the way. Just yell it out if you need anything.”
They all sat down, Sam scowling deeply.
“What is it?” Gunnarr asked.
“As I told you before, ain’t nothing in that sea except skolta. I’ve fished it long enough to know,” he said.
“I believe you,” Gunnarr said, “but Cass said this place was full of Djinn. I suppose it’s possible they do something to keep this tavern here. It may also allow for fish to be caught nearby other than skolta.”
Sam’s scowl deepened. It was not an explanation he was satisfied with.
“I would not trust this barkeep,” he muttered.
Just then Jack came out from the back of the tavern with four plates piled high with salted shrimp. He placed them down and went behind the bar to fetch a bottle of ale and four glasses. He opened the ale and the strong smell of fermented seaweed hit their noses.
“I’ve heard,” Jack said pouring, “it’s an acquired taste. Unfortunately it’s all I have at the moment.”
They all grimaced at the smell of the ale. The shrimp seemed appetizing enough, so they began tentatively nibbling on it. It was quite fresh and cooked properly. While they ate Gunnarr looked up to where Jack was busily polishing a counter that had probably not been used in weeks.
“We’re here looking for the Djinn. You don’t know how to find them, or call them by any chance, do you?”
Jack looked at Gunnarr and laughed jovially.
“As far as I know, you don’t summon Djinn. They come and go as they please. Not much else to it. You are welcome to wait for them here. They should show up eventually. I have a small room with some straw mats. It’s not the most comfortable accommodations, but I can guarantee it’s the only tavern where Djinn spotting is possible.”
“How long precisely,” Gunnarr asked, “is eventually?”
“Oh,” Jack said resuming his polishing, “hard to say. Sometimes they’re in here every night for a week. Other times it can be months before I see them. But they will show up. Eventually.”
Gunnarr sighed and Nat and Viola’s faces fell. They continued to eat in a dismal silence. Gunnarr, after forcing down a few more shrimp, pulled out the little, jewel encrusted flask Cass had given to him. It had been left with her by the Djinn, along with a colorful blue tattoo on her ear. They were the only physical reminders that she had ever actually met them. She had given the flask to Gunnarr, shortly before she entered Oshia’s temple.
He rubbed it absently, thinking about the last time he saw her. That’s when the door to the tavern opened again and a short blue man stood in the entrance. His attire was lavish, his dark blue hair neatly tied atop his head, glimmering in the light. Gold chains adorned his wrists and neck. His dark eyes glinted fiercely as he looked up at Gunnarr. A cold voice came from him then.
“You are not the person I gave that to.”
Chapter 5
Kali was once again staring at her hands, though this time the scars there brought her comfort. She hadn’t realized how much she needed them until they had disappeared in the Golden City, but as Patch had promised, they reappeared when they exited the city. Luckily, the wound in her foot had not. Kali rubbed her neck. The golden collar had also disappeared when they left.
“Must be nice,” Suman said as he rode quietly beside them.
He had managed to procure a horse before they left the city.
“I would get one for both of you as well, but I have a feeling the city would take them away as soon as we left. I have signed the contract, so to speak,” he said touching his collar before they left the city, “but you have not.”
That exchange was only the day before, but Kali believed Suman when he said it. It only made sense that the god Midassa would not go out of his way to help those who had refused his trade.
“It is nice,” Kali said, “There is no way we can help you with yours, is there
?”
Kali knew what the answer would be before Suman said it.
“No. It is a contract. I was not tricked into taking it. I’ll pay my due. I got everything that was promised me. You can say many things about Midassa, but unfair and deceitful, those are not his traits. It is known by all who live near what is required of you should you choose to live there. And I did choose this…” Suman trailed off as his hand traced over his collar.
“I will pay my debt,” he said finally. “I do not wish to try find a way out of it.”
They continued walking east through the rather non-descript woods in silence for a short while. Kali could not help but wonder how a man could get to a point where he didn’t care if he died. Patch must have been thinking along the same lines because he spoke up suddenly, startling Kali. He had been very quiet most of the trip toward the cavern of the oracles.
“Why ever did you take Midassa’s deal? You do not seem like a man who cares more for wealth and luxury than life,” Patch asked.
“It’s stupid really. Or I should say, it’s really stupid,” Suman said. “It was a bet.”
“A bet?” Kali and Patch said simultaneously. It was hard to tell which voice held more incredulity.
“Ahem… well,” Suman avoided their eyes out of embarrassment. “Yes. I told you it was stupid.”
“Yes well, there’s stupid and then there’s…,” Patch began but Suman coughed loudly before the satyr could finish his demeaning thought out loud.
“Yes well, I’ve admitted it was stupid. No need to further jab a man who’s got mere months to live,” Suman said.
Patch looked as if he disagreed with this sentiment, but nonetheless he kept quiet. Kali noticed that Patch had been much surlier toward Suman than he had been toward her. She wasn’t really sure why Patch had taken a disliking to the young man. Or perhaps, she thought, he was just unusually friendly toward her. Kali decided to probe a little further into the story, eager to get to know Suman better. She had two allies in her quest to find herself again, and Suman seemed the more trustworthy of the two. It was a gut feeling she couldn’t quell.