by Jayne Castel
“That’s no longer your concern,” Ryana replied, before Dain had time to speak out. She’d said little as they’d approached Idriss, and now her face was hard, her gaze narrowed. “We’ll travel without you from now on.”
Relieved, Dain looked away so Saul wouldn’t see that Ryana’s words pleased him. She’d merely got in before him, for he had no intention of letting Saul join them either.
Saul barked out a laugh. “I don’t think so. I got you off Orin safely. You owe me.”
Ryana’s jaw clenched. “We owe you nothing.”
“He saved us,” Lilia spoke up then. Her face was serious, her gaze flicking from Saul to Ryana. “We should show a bit of gratitude.”
“He has my thanks,” Ryana said before turning and taking hold of Lilia’s arm, “but from here on we travel alone.”
Lilia shook her off. “You don’t make the rules. I’ve agreed to go to your Order … if that’s where the stone will be safe … but that doesn’t mean you’re in charge.”
Ryana drew back, her face hardening. “You don’t want him with us,” she muttered. “You can’t trust him.”
Lilia gave a tight smile. “Trust is a rare commodity at the moment.”
Ryana flinched at that but held her tongue.
“Plus, I’m the only one here with coin,” Saul interjected. He appeared unflustered by Ryana’s accusations, especially now that Lilia had taken his side.
“I’ve got some bronze talents,” Ryana snapped, a flush creeping along her high cheekbones.
“Enough to buy us a horse each, and to feed us during the journey east?”
“I can sing for coin along the way.”
Saul gave her a smug smile in response, the kind that made Dain want to punch that smirking mouth. “Face it, even if it’s just my coin … you need me on this journey.”
“We’ll walk,” Dain spat the words out, “and I’ll hunt for food if we need it.” He then turned to Lilia. “I can’t believe you’re even considering this. You know he’s a liar.”
Lilia stared back at him, a flush creeping up her neck. “I’m not a fool, Dain … stop treating me like one.”
“I’m not. It’s just that you’re—”
“We need his help,” Lilia shot back, hands on hips now. “In case you’ve forgotten, The Brotherhood are still after us.”
“Yes … and it’s him they’re after. All the more reason to leave him behind.”
“Once they discover I don’t have the stone any longer, they’ll come for you,” Saul drawled, folding his arms across his chest. “How far do you think you’ll get on the Eastern Road without horses?”
A tense silence settled between the four of them. Oblivious to the men working around them, or the wind that whipped against their clothing, they all stared each other down. Dain’s last hopes faded when he saw Lilia’s face set in stubborn lines. “We travel east as soon as we gather supplies and horses,” she said finally, “and Saul comes with us.”
“I need time,” Saul told Lilia as they walked down the long pier toward the Bay Promenade, a wide strand that lined the mouth of the harbor. The cries of hawkers, peddling hot pies and pasties, reached them. “I need to find a buyer for the boat and to purchase fast horses.”
Lilia nodded, although her heart was thumping against her breast bone. The confrontation back there had upset her. Ryana and Dain now followed them a few steps behind, Ryana’s expression thunderous, Dain’s strained. They both thought she was an idiot.
I’m being practical, she told herself. She’d studied the maps; she knew it was a long, difficult journey inland. The first part through the verdant Western Cradle, an area of farmland and market towns, was easy enough. However, she’d heard that the Rithmar Highlands was wild, empty country.
“Can you have everything ready by tomorrow?” she asked.
He pulled a face. “Hopefully.”
“We can’t linger here,” Ryana spoke up from behind them. Her voice was clipped and cold. “The Brotherhood will be crossing The Wash as we speak.”
“Idriss is big enough for us to get lost in,” Saul replied. “There’s an inn in the upper town where they’ll never find us.”
Ryana muttered something from behind them, but Saul ignored her, his dark gaze focused upon Lilia. “I’ll take you there, and then I’ll return to the docks to find a buyer for the sloop.”
They crossed the Bay Promenade, their boots whispering on slippery cobbles, and made their way toward The Tangle: the area of slums that covered the foothills of the mountain. A black obelisk loomed over the entrance to The Tangle, casting a long shadow: Idriss’s Altar of Umbra.
Now that they were ashore, Lilia had to crane her neck to see the jumble of grey-brown buildings built in steps up the side of the mountain. The creaking of iron to the south of the Tangle drew her attention, and her gaze shifted to where a great cage cranked its way up the sheer face.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the cage.
“How rich folk travel up to the higher levels,” Ryana replied. “Perhaps Saul could save us a climb and pay for our passage?”
Saul’s laugh rang out, echoing off the high buildings as they stepped inside the claustrophobic darkness of The Tangle. “I think not … best save my coin for necessities, don’t you think?”
Lilia’s heart sank. After the day she’d had, she was exhausted—and it looked like a steep climb.
The atmosphere within The Tangle caused all four of them to fall into watchful silence. The streets were shadowed and fetid with the stench of urine, rotting food, and damp. Living up to its name, the web of narrow streets covered a vast area at the base of Mount Velar. Many of the buildings were crumbling with broken shutters and doors. Washing hung between the buildings, obliterating the overcast sky above and casting the slums even deeper into darkness.
Lilia stepped a little closer to Saul. Watchful eyes peered out at them from doorways and the entrances to alleyways. However, most thieves would think twice about attacking a man weighed down with fighting knives.
14
Merchants’ Alley
Saul led them to an inn on the fourth tier of Mount Velar. The steep climb up a network of twisting stone stairs seemed to go on forever. Lagging behind the others, Lilia stopped to catch her breath. Her thigh muscles were burning, and she felt as if she would be sick. She wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her arm and turned to look back the way they had come.
Idriss tumbled down the hillside below them, a jigsaw of slate roofs. Beyond, the Bay of Idriss spread out, dark and still. Farther out, the sea stretched west to a misty horizon.
Orin lay just out of sight.
Managing to regain her breath, Lilia turned and followed her companions up a narrow lane before climbing a final set of stairs to the inn.
The Sailor’s Rest was a tidy establishment tucked into a back street. The three-storied building had been built into the side of the mountain, with walls of pitted basalt and peeling green shutters.
Inside it was cool and smelled of damp. A low fire burned in the hearth, barely taking the chill off the air. Booths lined the shadowy space although Lilia noted there were no customers at this hour. She was not surprised—few folk would bother to make that climb up from the docks to take their noon meal and enjoy an ale here.
A man of middling years with a red face and harassed manner met them in the common room. He recognized Saul, although the look he gave him was wary. “Come to fleece my customers again, have you?” the inn-keeper greeted him.
Saul grinned. “I won those games fair, Hrolf.”
The man snorted. “If you say so.”
He led them up to the chamber they would be sharing for the night: a large, damp room with a view overlooking the bay. Saul passed him payment for the night, and the inn-keeper left without another word, the door thumping shut behind him.
Saul turned to his companions in silent assessment before he spoke. “We can’t waste time. I’ll return to the docks.”
He turned to Ryana. “You’re coming with me.”
Ryana bristled, her mouth thinning. “What? Afraid of leaving me with Lilia?”
He gave her a cool smile. “No … but I’d prefer you were with me.”
She frowned, her expression darkening, yet swallowed her next response. Saul glanced over at Lilia and Dain, taking in their disheveled appearances. All of them still wore the clothes they’d escaped Port Needle in.
“It will get cooler in the mountains,” Saul said, digging into a purse at his belt. “You’re going to need warmer clothes than that.” He passed Lilia a handful of silver talents. “At the southern end of The Tangle, you’ll find Merchants’ Alley … you should be able to get everything you need there. Watch yourselves though, it can get a bit rough … and The Brotherhood are likely to get here soon.”
Lilia nodded, sharing a glance with Dain. However, the thought of having to climb all those stairs again made her want to weep.
The four of them descended the last set of stairs down to The Tangle. Lilia and Dain paused a moment, watching Saul and Ryana set off west toward the docks. Once they had completed their business there, they would trek up to the northern outskirts of Idriss to find a horse trader.
After Saul and Ryana had disappeared from sight, Dain turned to Lilia. “It’s not too late, you know. We could leave now and be free of them both.”
Lilia sighed. “And go where? Face it, Dain … we need them.”
Dain gritted his teeth before answering. “The sooner we rid ourselves of Saul the better. He’s a snake.”
He saw anger flare in her eyes. “He’s the best chance we have of getting to the capital safely,” Lilia shot back. “Without horses, The Brotherhood will catch us.”
Not waiting for his response, she stalked off, taking a street that forked south, in the direction that Saul had indicated. Dain fell into step next to her, biting back his own anger. Her pig-headed defense of Saul infuriated him.
Why can’t she see?
Unspeaking, Lilia and Dain made their way through the labyrinth of dark, mossy streets, moving gradually south. The darkness in here was oppressive. Dain noticed that Lilia slowed her step and moved closer to him, the farther they traveled into the slums. Two harlots, their faces smeared with garish paint, their breasts bared, staggered out onto the street.
One of them made eye-contact with Dain and leered. “Good day, handsome.”
Dain flashed the harlot a grin, before he noted the look of disapproval on Lilia’s face and the way her full, sensual lips thinned.
They continued in silence and eventually reached Merchants’ Alley—a long stretch flanked by high stone buildings that seemed to lean over the mossy cobbled way. The sky was barely more than a thin grey ribbon overhead.
Men, women, and children packed the alley, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Saul had been right—there was everything for sale here. Tailors, cobblers, and milliners squeezed in next to food vendors and weaponsmiths. There was a tiny shop selling fowl—both live and butchered—a pie stand, and a spice trader. Women emerged from shops with bolts of cloth and baskets of food. Men, some of them armed, loitered around the entrance to a tavern halfway down the alley. Ragged urchins, barefoot, their faces streaked with grime, darted amongst the crowd, their gazes quick and hungry.
Dain ran his eye over the crowd, fascinated. There were sailors with darker complexions from Farras, and those bearing a similar look to Saul—olive skin and jet-black hair—from Anthor. Yet the folk of this kingdom, Rithmar, fascinated him too. Most of them were tall with either blond or brown hair. It seemed that Ryana’s looks were typical of this area of the mainland; many of the women were statuesque, tall enough to look men in the eye.
Among the crowd he saw those of the Idriss Guard—men wearing the silver and black uniforms that marked them as protectors of the city. It surprised him to see so many of the guard on the streets, and he wondered why they had such a presence here.
Not wasting any time, Lilia and Dain ducked into the first tailor’s they found, where they bought clothing for Dain: a thick woolen cloak, a leather vest, and two long-sleeved woolen tunics that would keep him warm during the journey. His selections took him no time at all, and Dain exited the shop with a bundle of new clothes under his arm.
Lilia wasn’t so easy to please. They visited a number of shops, before she bought a pair of long hunting boots from a cobbler. Noting Dain’s look of surprise as she exited the cobbler’s, Lilia frowned.
“He made these for a lad who never came to collect them,” she explained, “and was selling them off cheap. They’ll suit me for riding.”
In the next tailor’s Dain waited impatiently while Lilia tried on a number of garments behind a curtain at the back of the narrow shop. Outside the day was darkening. Spring had arrived, but dusk seemed to come early today.
Dain watched as a boy sprinted past the shop-front pursued by a man. Roaring curses, for the thief had lifted his purse, the portly and florid-faced man had little chance of catching the agile lad.
Moments later Dain saw three of the Idriss Guard hurtle down the street in pursuit, their shouts ringing off the stone walls of the narrow alley.
Turning back to the curtain, Dain shifted his weight and tapped his foot. He turned his attention to the tailor—a small man with a darting, nervous gaze. “The city seems full of guards,” he said meeting the older man’s eye. “Is there unrest in Idriss?”
The tailor shook his head. “Not here,” he muttered. “But there’s trouble across the border.”
Dain raised an eyebrow. “In Thûn?”
“Aye … Anthor’s launched an outright invasion. Word just arrived that Veldoras is under attack.”
Dain frowned. Veldoras—or The City of Tides as it was also known—was Thûn’s capital. The city lay many leagues north-east of the Thûn-Anthor borderlands, where fighting had been contained for the last few years.
The news of unrest didn’t surprise Dain, for even in Orin, they’d heard of Reoul of Anthor’s ambitions. Unlike the rulers of the other three kingdoms—Rithmar, Farras and Thûn—Reoul of Anthor wasn’t content to remain within his own territory. In ancient times, Thûn and Anthor had been one kingdom. Reoul claimed that King Aron of Thûn had no right to sit upon the Swallow Throne.
Unease stirred within Dain. This wasn’t the time to be taking a journey to the mainland.
He glanced over at the changing area. “We should be getting back, Lilia. Are you going to be much longer?”
“Almost ready,” she shouted back.
He watched as the curtain drew open and a young woman he barely recognized stepped out into the shop. Stunned by the transformation, Dain stared.
Her voluminous skirts had gone, replaced with form-fitting leather breeches and the long hunting boots she had bought earlier. Around her shoulders she wore a blue-grey woolen cloak. Without her skirts she looked taller, her hips narrower. Her legs were long and shapely. Dain’s gaze slid up to the crisp, white shirt that skimmed the top of her thighs and the laced leather vest above that, fixing upon the creamy swell of her cleavage.
He hadn’t realized he was staring until her gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
He smiled. “Nothing.” Truthfully, he’d known few women—besides Ryana—who dressed this way. The women of Orin wore long, heavy skirts.
Lilia’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Don’t the clothes suit me?”
Dain’s smile widened. “No need to worry about that … you look beautiful.”
Lilia glanced away. Her gaze then flicked to the tailor, who was waiting expectantly a few feet away, and she gave him a shy smile. “I’ll take these.”
Outside in the street, the air had turned chill and the shadows had lengthened even further. Dain drew his new cloak closer to him. He carried the rest of his clothes in a bundle under his arm, whereas Lilia wore her purchases, having given her layers of skirts and petticoats to the tailor in part payment for her new clothing.
They had just passed a small smith’s workshop when Dain caught Lilia by the arm and pulled her up short. The clang of metal reverberated out into the street. “How much coin have you left?” he asked.
Lilia dug into the pocket of her leather vest. “One silver talent … why? Haven’t we got everything?”
“Almost.” He steered her into the smithy’s. Inside, a hulking man beat a glowing blade upon an anvil. Upon seeing them, he straightened up and wiped his red face with the back of one meaty forearm.
“Good eve,” Dain greeted him with a smile. “We’re looking to buy a knife.”
“What kind? Fighting dagger? Filleting blade?”
“Something small and light.”
The smithy nodded, put down his hammer, and crossed to a workbench at the far end of the forge. He returned carrying a bone-handled dagger with a gleaming, wickedly-sharp blade.
“It’s made of Anthor steel.” The smith handed it to Dain. “Light and not easily blunted. I make these for sailors as the blades don’t rust. I always have a couple in stock.”
Dain nodded, weighing the blade in his hand. It was well-crafted and light. “How much?”
“Two silver talents.”
Dain puffed his cheeks out and handed the blade back to the smithy. “Make it one and we’ll take it.”
The smithy gave him a long look, weighing his options, before finally nodding. “Alright then.”
They paid, and the smith handed Dain his purchase. However, Dain then passed Lilia the dagger.
Her gaze widened. “What? I thought this was for you?”
“That axe I brought will do me for the moment,” he replied. “You need something to defend yourself with.”
She looked down at the knife as if it would bite her. “But I don’t know how to use one.”
The smith gave a wheezing laugh. “That’s easily remedied, girl.” He winked at her. “I can give you a lesson.”
Dain gave the smith an irritated look before turning his attention back to Lilia. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you. Go ahead, Lily. Pretend I’m about to attack you and you’re defending yourself. How would you use the blade?”