by M. M. Perry
“And I think I’ll take my leave of you after lunch. I’m sure I’ve more than performed my duty as per the king’s request.”
“What?” Viola said surprised, “but you’re part of the group now. Surely you’ve found our company entertaining. We’ve got a Djinn.”
“Lady,” Sam said exasperated, “I’ve also been attacked by a kraken while with you lot. I don’t know if the show is worth the price of admission. And I prefer the silence of my own ship. You may think you’re the most entertaining bunch of people I’ve ever been around, but you have not, in fact, grown on me.”
Sam shuffled off toward the pub. The rest of the group followed slowly.
“Why are you so desperate to keep him with us,” Manfred asked curiously. “He’s just a fisherman, we don’t even know if he’s a good one. He just knew the area around Xenor and he got you there. Not much else he can do now that we’re on land.”
“I know,” Viola grumbled as they passed through the pub’s doors. “I just thought there was some sort of mystery to him. The last time we traveled with a cranky fossil they turned out to be a god. I guess I was kind of hoping we’d find out he was a merman or something.”
“Ha!” Manfred barked noisily, “the only secret he’s been hiding is that he picks his nose and flicks it into your hair when you aren’t lookin.”
A horrified look crossed Viola’s face.
“That’s revolting,” she said, resisting the urge to touch her hair to check for intruders.
“He’s pulling your leg,” Gunnarr said. He paused a beat before he said under his breath, “I hope.”
They joined Sam at a table in the noisy pub. The pub was packed during the lunch hours with traders, merchants, travelers and people from the city. Women and men danced around the tables with heavily laden trays full of steaming food of all types. Men clanked mugs full of frothy ale and music was being played by a man with a flute in the corner of the room. The atmosphere seemed friendly and there were people of all lands there, including several tables of red fur-covered Cartan. No one seemed to pay any attention to Manfred at all.
A cheery looking woman in an apron approached the table and took out a small pad of paper and a pencil.
“You lot look like you travelled a ways to get here. What would you like to eat? We can make nearly anything. And don’t try to trip me up and ask if we can make whatever exotic dish you have from wherever you’re from. With the traffic we get through here, trust me, I heard it all before and all you’ll get is some meal you’ve never had the guts to try in your own land,” she said.
“How about anything but fish,” Viola suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” said Sam.
Gunnarr and Nat nodded. Manfred remained silent which the serving woman took as agreement to the order.
“Alright then, I can fix you up with some of the specials that are not in any way fish related. Be back in just a moment,” she said.
“So,” Gunnarr said staring down hard at the little Djinn, “what exactly do we do next? Search the docks?”
“We won’t need to. That woman there will tell us where we need to go next,” Manfred said.
They all followed his finger to a woman who had almost the darkest skin Gunnarr had ever seen. She was a very petite woman with long braided hair. Her eyes, at the moment staring right back at Manfred as if she had seen a Djinn. When Manfred pointed at her and everyone at the table turned to her she look startled.
Manfred crooked his finger and made a gesture indicating the woman should join them. The woman turned to her server and said something before making her way over to the table. She was quite short, shorter even than Viola. Her clothes were simple linen trousers and a tunic in natural colors, sturdy and well made. She approached the table warily and arrived just as the food did. The server looked up and spoke before anyone had a chance to greet the newcomer.
“Oh, are you joining them? I can bring another plate,” the server said without letting the woman answer.
The server quickly set down several plates of food consisting of a variety of steamed vegetables and roots, roasted meats and chilled fruits. She was off again to grab another plate when Manfred gestured for the woman to sit at the open space.
“You are a Djinn,” the woman said evenly.
“I am. And you are an ukrotiteli ognya, am I right?” Manfred asked.
The woman arched one of her eyebrows. She looked around the table considering the group before she finally sat with them. She folded her hands in front of her and stared at the Djinn.
“I would ask how you know that, but that would be silly, would it not,” she said in a thick accent.
Ws were pronounced more like Vs and her vowels were spoken with much more emphasis than usual. There was also the odd insertion of the Y sound in between certain letters. Viola perked up. She recognized the accent, though the last time she had heard it, it wasn’t nearly as strong as this.
“Her accent, it’s like Driscol’s,” she said.
The woman’s attention was now entirely on Viola.
“You know my brother?”
“You’re Driscol’s sister?” Gunnarr asked.
The woman turned to Gunnarr. The puzzlement on her face only grew. She nodded her head.
“I am Anya. If there is a man named Driscol who speaks as I do, then yes, he is likely my brother. You are friends with him?”
“He is the father of our dear friend Cass. We met Driscol while traveling with her,” Viola said.
“Ahhh,” Anya said as if she put all the pieces together, “Very tricky, Djinn. You have tied yourself to this problem my brother has told me about. And you think to use her to fulfill your prophecy somehow, eh?”
Manfred continued to stare at Anya. He tapped the glass of ale in front of him with one of his many ringed fingers, the sound clinking clearly over the din of the room. Gunnarr, Nat, Viola and Sam watched the exchange in confusion. Gunnarr surmised the two were speaking of the scrolls Manfred had mentioned earlier but he couldn’t figure how Anya knew about them.
“Is there something we need to know?” Gunnarr asked.
Anya started as if awoken from a trance. She shook her head.
“Not now. It is not important now. First tell me. Where is Cass? If you are here, you are surely looking for her. My brother has told me about her disappearance. I will help you however I can,” Anya said.
Gunnarr gave Anya a quick recounting of the story while they ate, with Viola filling in any missed details she thought were important. Before the main course was finished, they managed to bring Anya up to speed. She glanced again at the Djinn before speaking.
“And you, Djinn, said she would be here?”
“She will. Any time now her boat will be docking here,” Manfred replied.
“Oh, I wonder why she is coming here,” Anya asked suspiciously. She clearly felt Manfred had somehow manipulated events to get her involved.
“I’m guessing because the oracles told her to,” the Djinn responded.
Anya’s eyes opened wide. Gunnarr looked equally impressed by this statement.
“Cass has visited the oracles and lived? My brother will be quite proud of this,” Anya said. “If her ship is coming in soon, and she is coming from Centria, I would guess she is on a passenger ship. It would be cheap and easy to get passage that way. I suspect a woman who cannot remember who she is has little means. Come, I know of one such ship docking today.”
As they left Gunnarr put a sizeable amount of coin on the table for their server. They trundled out into the street and followed Anya down the long row of docks. Ships of every size were tied to the various moorings. There was much bustle as people loaded and unloaded all along the wooden planks. Anya knew many of the people there and they greeted her as she passed. Toward the end of the dock a huge ship was just anchoring. People were lined up along the railing of the ship waiting to set foot on land again. A sizeable crowd was gathered near this dock. Men with flowers, women holding the ha
nds of eager children, ladies in pretty dresses; all awaited the arrival of their loved ones.
Gunnarr glanced up at the people looking down over the boat’s railing hoping to see a familiar face, but there were simply too many people for him to pick out Cass. Passengers began to disembark and greetings were shared among family members who had been waiting. Then they saw her. A tall dingy-haired woman with a bright blue tattoo adorning her ear. Her grey eyes weren’t looking for anyone; instead they were fixated on a small ruddy looking man standing beside her who was saying something. A handsome, dark-haired young man grabbed her elbow and pointed at the group. That was when Cass finally looked out at the crowd and saw them.
Cass could see that these people must know her. The way their faces lit up when she looked at them was her first clue. Much to her regret, she could not remember any one of them. There was a huge blonde man, the biggest man she had seen so far. Something in the back of her head said Braldashad. The ice blue eyes and fair hair were typical of those people. Recalling even this small tidbit of information pleased Cass. She wondered how much she would be able to recall in her muddled mind so long as it wasn’t specific about her life. She had remembered oracles, so she surmised she probably could remember a lot more if she concentrated on it. She filed this away for later exploration as she examined the rest of her greeting party.
A short red headed young woman with bright green eyes looked eager to hug Cass, but Cass wasn’t comfortable hugging someone she knew as a stranger. The young man beside the redhead had curly brown hair and kind brown eyes. He was tall and a tad on the gangly side, but he seemed sure of himself. Then there was an older man whose skin had been browned from long years under a relentless sun. He wasn’t smiling at Cass like the rest, merely holding a look of curiosity on his face. The black skinned woman smiled, but less familiarly than the others. Then there was the little blue man.
He reached up and took her hand. At the contact, her other hand flew up and touched the tattoo on her ear. As if something had been peeled away in her mind, she unexpectedly remembered a pub, some awful ale, and the Djinn.
“I remember you,” Cass exclaimed happily.
Gunnarr felt his hopes surge as Manfred held up his hand to keep the group from crushing Cass with embraces.
“And that’s all I can do at the moment,” he said loudly to the group. “I’ve only undone the magic from her night at the pub. We don’t let outsiders remember too much about us. We mark em, and can remove the memory block if we wish. Because it was an isolated memory and hidden already, I hoped it might not have been touched by Oshia’s power. I thought it would speed things along if she could trust one of us from the get go,” Manfred said.
Gunnarr’s shoulders slumped. He tried his best to keep his composure, but even a warrior had his limits.
“I’m… I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” Cass said looking around at the group.
“Well,” Nat said trying to lighten the mood, “this may not be the reunion we were hoping for. But I can certainly say this, we are all very happy you are safe. And now that you’re with us, we’re going to help you find your memories.”
Cass smiled gratefully.
“We should go somewhere quiet. We have much to discuss,” Manfred said.
“Of course,” Cass agreed.
The group was following the Djinn away from the docks when Gunnarr felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned, slightly irritated since he did not want to let Cass leave his sight again, to see Sam standing there.
“I’ll take my leave now. I’ve no use for farewells, and for some reason the red lass has taken to me,” Sam said grumpily.
“Yes. I can see how that would annoy you,” Gunnarr said flatly.
He pulled off his coin purse. It was still quite heavy. He handed it to Sam and then took a letter from inside his tunic. It was already impressed with the king’s seal.
“The coin should get you back to Faylendar in comfort. The letter is for when you get there. It just says that you went above and beyond your duties as a guide and that you should be compensated as such. Callan is an ass at times, but he honors his debts. I’ve no doubt he will treat you fairly when it comes time to settle your bill. I’m sorry that we put you in danger and that you were strong-armed into doing this. But I am truly grateful. You guided us safely to the dock on Xenor that led us to Manfred and well…”
Gunnarr trailed off.
Sam sniffed irritably.
“No need for sentiments like that. I did my job. I’m getting paid for it. Nothing more to it. I did appreciate the chance to see the Djinn. And this,” Sam said waving the sealed missive, “might just get me to retirement. Fishing just for the fun of it. Imagine that!
“Good luck with your lass. I hope the gods continue to favor you… well I guess considering the kraken… and the somewhat surly and, up until now, mostly unhelpful Djinn…. Well I hope they favor you a bit more, eh?” Sam said.
He waved as he walked off toward the passenger ship. Gunnarr truly did hope Callan gave the cranky fisherman enough to retire. If nothing else, he thought, there should be at least one happy ending to this adventure.
Chapter 10
Gunnarr rejoined the group in a courtyard just beyond the docks. He sat down on a stone bench across from Cass. It was frustrating to be so close to her, yet to have her look at him as if she’d never met him. He tried to remind himself that the spell would be broken soon, but it was difficult. He had spent years looking for her, yet here she was, not even vaguely happy about their reunion.
They were in a quiet flower garden that Anya had suggested would afford them sufficient privacy. She appeared eager to be out of the sight of others. In particular she wanted Manfred to remain inconspicuous. The rest of the group didn’t quite understand why, but since Manfred had voiced no objection, they assumed it must be important enough when the normally stubborn Djinn comply so readily.
Gunnarr could still hear the bustle of the docks and the markets, but it was muffled by the buildings around them and the lush vegetation. The sounds of the bees collecting pollen was a stark contrast to the tense feeling of the group. They had completed the task they had set out to do—a long, arduous chore that had left them all drained—but the end result was less than what they’d hoped for. The feeling of satisfaction from a mission accomplished was there, at least fleetingly when they first saw Cass, but it had been ripped from them when her eyes were empty of recognition. Frustrated was not a strong enough word to describe how Gunnarr’s group felt.
Viola and Nat managed to wrangle their discouraged thoughts into check. Cass was a friend to both, but the connection they had made all those years ago was nothing compared to Gunnarr’s, so it was easier for them.
Viola wished to be praised as being part of a heroic group, a warrior in her own way, but she realized the pettiness of that desire and knew she would never voice it aloud. She chided herself for such foolish thoughts. A warrior sought neither honor nor praise, she reminded herself. Then she couldn’t help but think that was why she’d never really be a warrior. Deep inside she knew her motives were all wrong. She wanted people to admire her for her abilities.
Nat was upset for all the normal reasons. He was angry there was nothing they could do to help. It was maddening to be so helpless to aide another in need, particularly one who he looked up to and admired. Should Cass fall prey to a god’s whimsy again, what good could he do? He pushed aside these thoughts of self-doubt and concentrated instead on the task at hand, knowing that he would do whatever it took to restore the Cass he knew and admired. That, he knew, would be what she needed no matter what.
Gunnarr was the most visibly upset. Considering he was Braldashadian, this was even more troubling to his young friend, Nat. Gunnarr’s people lived hard lives and weren’t prone to outbursts of emotion. The frown on Gunnarr’s face was akin to blubbering on any other man. Gunnarr tried to rest his eyes anywhere but on Cass’ face. He could not bear to see the lack of recognition there.
Suman noticed the tense nature of the group of people they so recently joined with. In an effort to ease those tensions, he suggested they all introduce themselves. The idea was met with halfhearted nods and murmurs of assent and they went around telling a little about themselves, and for Cass’ benefit, how they knew her. Gunnarr felt awkward explaining who he was.
“I uh, I’m Gunnarr. I’m a warrior, and we were often in the same pub waiting for jobs to come through. We got to know each other on the job to help the king of Faylendar. He hired both of us and, uh…” his voice faltered.
He looked across the group and saw Suman wink at him suggestively.
“That’s your boyfriend I reckon,” Suman whispered rather audibly to Cass.
Both Cass and Gunnarr blushed deeply.
“What are you going on about,” Cass asked testily.
“In the harem. Your men all looked like him. Probably dredged up from your memories. Midassa has access to them even if you don’t,” Suman said.
“Harem?” Viola asked with a half-smile. It was hard to listen to Suman talk so familiarly to Cass when they could not.
Cass coughed.
“Long story… Viola? I can tell you sometime if you like. Fascinating tale of intrigue and wonder,” Suman said flirtatiously.
Viola rolled her eyes. She found herself disliking Suman more and more. Jealousy and annoyance fueled her mood.
Anya interrupted the banter by clearing her throat.
“I am sure you would all like to sit around and reacquaint yourselves, but I imagine time is of the essence. If I recall correctly from the letters my brother sent me, Cass had been captured by Oshia. Something must have distracted him. The fact that he is not inflicting his wrath upon all of us right now is evidence of that, but it will not last forever. And the presence of the Djinn means we need to be on our way, and soon. My people will not take kindly to finding a Djinn in Gull’s Port, and even less so that I am in his company,” Anya said standing.