Ardhuin paused to admire a carved wooden door featuring a stylized Cathan lady and something that was either a small, extremely shaggy horse or a large, enraged dog. “Why, if they fear fire, do they not use philogiston for light?”
“Because philogiston is Aeropan magic, and as such viewed as a threat to Imperial order.” Bové stopped at a set of large, red–lacquered doors and rapped sharply with his knuckles. A small, older man opened the door a crack, looked at him, and impassively opened the door wide enough for them to enter. The room inside was dark, but with gleams of gold from gilded decorations on every surface, even the ceiling.
Bové spoke enough Cathan to deal with the several layers of bureaucracy and was apparently familiar with all the procedures. Each member of the expedition was brought forth, scrutinized, and a description written on a long slip of paper with a slender brush. Even that was not enough, for the slip of paper had to be taken to yet another bureaucrat where, for a fee, a red, square stamp was inked on the slip and the whole rolled up, tied with a black silk cord, and placed in a wooden cylinder.
“Don’t lose these,” Bové said, handing them out. “If you’re found without them, the penalty is severe—and they will likely beat you in addition just to make sure you get the point. And don’t get them mixed up, either.”
They left the floating building for another boat, this time through a guarded gateway. Kiantan harbor was crowded with ships, mostly the square–sailed Cathan boats with high decks. On land, the crowding was even more noticeable. The streets were jammed with people, most of whom were carrying huge piles of goods either on their backs or balanced on the ends of poles. Although Dominic felt quite conspicuous, standing a head taller than the local Cathans and so differently dressed, the carriers paid no attention to them. They were instead yelling at each other, apparently to get out of the way.
“Something smells delicious,” Ardhuin said.
“Probably pork.” Bové gestured at a street vendor who was cooking meat on skewers over a tiny charcoal firepot. “They eat everything but the squeal, so be careful.”
Markus was looking about at the noise and crowds with a slight frown. “Where are we headed?”
“The White Jade Pavilion.” Bové gestured down the street to a building of four stories. Unlike the rest, which had paper banners dangling from every surface with Cathan script written on them, it was simple and plain. White paper screens covered the windows, glowing from the light inside. As they got closer, Dominic saw an old, bent man wearing the loose Cathan clothes in dark blue with gold medallions open the door, bowing, for two patrons.
“Nicest fancy–house in Kiantan,” Simons said, grinning. "Although I still prefer the Aleksandri girls."
Markus, Ardhuin, and Dominic started, and Bové rolled his eyes. “Yes, they do provide that kind of hospitality if you ask for it, but plenty of respectable businessmen go there merely for tea, music, or in our case, a temporary headquarters. This kind of tea house…well, it isn’t a concept that translates well outside Cathai. It saves us time in the long run. Mother Long knows everyone and everything that is going on in Kiantan and can facilitate any additional needs before our departure.”
“For a price,” grumbled Simons.
“And for that price, we are left alone,” Bové said. “Mother Long dislikes anyone interfering with her customers.” He glanced at Dominic. “It is also safer for Aeropans. Many locals feel it is perfectly acceptable to cheat and steal from foreigners. Especially if they think you do not know the customs.”
The White Jade Pavilion certainly appeared respectable, despite its reputed side business. Dominic saw nothing tawdry or suggestive—but perhaps he was simply unaware of what a Cathan would consider beyond the bounds of propriety. They were served dinner in a large private room that had, unusually, full–size chairs instead of the low benches he had seen everywhere else since arriving in Cathai. It would indeed appear the owners were accustomed to Aeropan preferences.
The meal was delicious, but Dominic was hard put to identify the sauces, spices, or even the meat involved. Near the end Bové gestured to one of the pretty young serving girls and whispered to her. She bowed and left, returning shortly thereafter carrying a tray with a porcelain teapot and several delicate cups. She set the tea down on a side table, and a few moments later an older Cathan woman entered the room.
She was wearing a short jacket of pink silk embroidered with white chrysanthemums and a pleated green skirt with a flat panel in front, also richly embroidered. Small gold pendants dangled from ornaments in the complex style of smooth loops of her jet–black hair, arranged like a coronet.
Bové rose and bowed to her in the Cathan fashion, which she returned. “Gentlemen, for those of you who have not had the pleasure, allow me to introduce Mother Long. We have a few new faces,” he said to her, introducing Dominic, Markus, “Mr. Talbot,” and Sonam, using the name he had acquired among the expedition, Sam.
Mother Long maintained a polite but distant expression as she acknowledged them, but her eyes looked at them sharply. As she poured tea and handed the delicate cups out, Bové asked jovially, “What news? Does all go well with your house?”
“It has been an uncertain year,” Mother Long answered in perfect Gaulan. Her answer appeared to sober Bové. “But we have no cause to complain. Our visitors remain faithful, for now, but there is word that the Cabot shipping house thinks of moving their warehouses to Naipon. It would be sad to see them leave.”
Bové sipped his tea thoughtfully. “We were stopped before Kiantan, for inspection of our cargo.”
“All ships with Aeropan passengers are being stopped,” Mother Long said, her face serene. “There is no mention that foreigners are unwelcome. Yet. It is thought someone is being looked for, but no one knows who it is. Asking would be, perhaps, unwise. The orders go most high.”
“I do not recall any interest shown on my last visit—but perhaps I was not paying attention.”
Mother Long folded her hands in her lap. “The orders have only been in place a short time.”
“Well, I hope official curiosity has been satisfied concerning my expedition, at any rate. We have much to do.”
“One hopes the usual arrangements will be sufficient?” Mother Long lifted one elegant eyebrow. “With, of course, the addition of your new friends.”
Bové waved a hand. “Yes, yes, of course. Unless the road has become more dangerous.”
Mother Long shook her head. “It is much the same as last year.” She rose from her chair and left the room.
As soon as the door closed Bové let out a gust of air. “Damn. I wonder if this will be the last trip.”
Dominic blinked. “But…it sounds as if nothing has changed.”
“From what she just told us, the government is getting stranger. Cabot does perhaps twenty to twenty–five percent of the shipping here. If they are thinking of leaving, things are bad. And if the road is just as dangerous as before…well, that’s even worse. The government got a lot of complaints about the bandits and swore they would increase patrols and replace the provincial governors. Either nothing happened or the bandits won. The government’s been shaky for a while, but this could signal the end. Don’t talk about this outside the White Jade, do you understand? Mother Long’s people are very discreet, but there are informers everywhere, and it’s so crowded anyone could be listening in without you knowing.”
After the remains of the dinner were cleared away, musicians came and played strange long–necked string instruments with a nasal tone, while more tea was provided along with bowls of small fruits, none of which Dominic could identify.
Their rooms were located on the top level of the pavilion, and from an elliptical comment from Simons, Dominic had the impression this level was reserved for those guests who did not intend to make use of the services provided by the White Jade’s other serving girls. Their suite had a central area in common and separate sleeping alcoves behind he
avy curtains. The beds themselves looked like little pavilions, with steps and railings and even canopies.
Markus left to find Gutrune and Stoller, while Ardhuin and Dominic admired the furnishings of the room.
“I’ve never seen so much carving…and why do these huge beds have such tiny rolls for pillows?”
“I’m just glad to be well away from bunks on ships,” Dominic said fervently. “And cramped cabins.”
“How long do we stay here?” Sonam asked.
Dominic shrugged. “I’m not sure—at least a week, from what Bové was saying. It sounded like Mother Long is arranging the transportation for the expedition as well as most of the bulk supplies, and she would have no reason to be in a hurry.”
“Well, if she knows everything and everyone in Kiantan, perhaps we should ask her about the items on Henri’s list,” Ardhuin said. “If we can’t leave right away, we should make good use of the time we have.”
“An excellent idea,” Markus said as he entered the room, followed by Gutrune and Stoller. “But how will this help us find Henri’s former employer?”
Ardhuin sat on one of the carved wooden chairs. “If we ask where such things could be found, as we stroll about the city, then we could ask the shopkeepers. If we can understand them…” she said slowly. “Bové could, but he might wonder why. Sonam, can you?”
He inclined his head. “Enough, I think. But hearing me speak, they would know my accent is not from Aerope—let us ask Mother Long to write down the Cathan script for the things we seek. Also, if they think we do not speak their language well, they will not guard their speech in our presence.”
Dominic went to his trunk, already placed by the efficient pavilion servants in the main room, and opened it. “I have the list here somewhere…we can give it to her in the morning.”
“Why not now?” Gutrune gestured toward the door. “Mother Long is, I believe, still welcoming guests below.”
“A point.” Markus rubbed his chin. “And the night is young.”
Dominic copied the list on a fresh half sheet of paper he found in a drawer of the suite desk, and Markus departed on his errand.
“We have obtained some better maps of the region.” Gutrune reached into an inner pocket and pulled out three rolls of heavy yellow paper. “From the Donesta monks, so the names are in Romai and Cathan—but they assure us the geographic information is accurate. It seems one of the monks’ missions is introducing improved agriculture to better the lot of the poor.”
Dominic spread the maps out, holding down the corners with various porcelain figurines and lacquer–ware boxes when the maps showed an inclination to roll themselves back up again. “Ah, this is much better. What route do you advise, Sonam?”
Sonam studied the maps, tapping one area with a finger. “It is best not to cross here. Desert, and dangerous people. We would need to carry much water and fodder for the animals. If we can find a boat that goes on shallow rivers, that would be longer, but safer. This place here. I know traders go through there, and strangers are less noticed.”
While Sonam discussed various options, Dominic got out his pen and ink and carefully noted the names Sonam gave, matching the local language rather than the ones already on the map. During this discussion Markus returned and joined them standing around the table.
“I doubt we will be able to help ourselves to much of Bové’s supplies, so we should also think about what we need to find on our own. And the return trip too.”
“The Preusan reinforcements should be able to help with that,” Gutrune remarked.
Sonam looked up. “And my people, as well.”
“I am more concerned with any additional magical inspections that we may encounter.” Ardhuin was frowning. “We need to get to Bhuta without detection before we worry about our return.”
“Do you think there will be someone looking for us specifically?”
She shook her head. “They have border crossings for the provinces as well, I understand. For taxes and such. I suppose we should assume any government interaction has the risk of the magic detectors and shield accordingly.”
“I wish we knew exactly what they were looking for,” Dominic murmured. “If Denais has the cooperation of the Cathan government, this journey will be very difficult.”
“Then we must merely disguise ourselves as government inspectors,” Markus said, grinning.
Dominic gave him a disbelieving look. “Under a strict vow of silence? None of us speak Cathan, remember.”
Markus waved away this minor detail, opening his mouth to presumably make more amusing suggestions, when a knock sounded at the door. Ardhuin gestured with a faint, glittering wave of magic, dissipating the sound shield and shadowing Gutrune and Stoller, and then Dominic opened the door.
Outside was one of the pavilion servants, who bowed and held out a black tray with a folded sheet of paper. Inside was his list, and the sheet that covered it had a list of names. Shop names.
“Mother Long wishes to speak with you tomorrow,” the servant said. “This one would be most happy to show you to these places before that.”
Dominic blinked, surprised. “That is very kind of you, but surely we can just get directions and not inconvenience you so greatly?”
The man permitted himself a small smile. “To those of Kiantan, the names of streets are already known—and to put up a sign would be foolish and unnecessary. To assist the foreign guests without this knowledge is our honor. But in this case, Mother Long has ordered this.”
“Why is that?” Ardhuin asked slowly.
The man bowed again. “She is concerned for the safety of her guests. This is what she wishes to discuss, where others cannot hear.”
Chapter 12
Gutrune was glad they had taken the trouble to get Cathan clothing as part of their disguise. As crowded as the streets were, it was impossible not to collide with anyone, and the illusions were purely visual. She and Stoller, attired as servants, trailed Sonam in his Aeropan disguise—and the three of them followed the larger party of Ardhuin, Dominic, Markus, and the guide. She had suggested it, mostly to see if anyone was interested in Ardhuin’s group, or if it was merely general curiosity about Aeropans.
At first the strangeness of Kiantan was overpowering, but slowly she became accustomed—and started noticing things. Most of the people were very thin and their clothing faded and patched. One building, better maintained than most and with soldiers on guard, had a wooden rack with severed heads in varying states of decay and signs underneath them, presumably listing the crimes committed by the deceased. The locals kept their gazes studiously averted, and indeed left an unusual amount of space free in front of the building, unlike the crowded street.
The day grew hot and the smells of the city overwhelming. Gutrune and Stoller remained outside when the others went inside the shops on the list, to avoid any watchers who might notice and make a connection between the two parties. She or Stoller kept an eye on the street during these side excursions, giving a sign to the other when it was time to move on.
“The shop before this, I heard the clerks talking,” Sonam said at one point, when they were alone. “They remarked that this foreigner was not sick like the other one who had asked for Silver Pearl tea this week.”
Gutrune nodded. “So, we may be close. Why did they think he was sick?”
Sonam shrugged. “The word they used—it is for fevers. Or for those addicted to the dream–smoke. Thin, and shaking.”
She had been watching for Aeropans anyway, and now looked for those who looked ill. None appeared—but perhaps they would not be out in the heat in their condition.
“See if you can get a better description of this man,” Gutrune whispered to Sonam at the next opportunity. “Say you are looking for a friend you have heard is in Kiantan who also likes what you are asking for, or something of that nature.”
She continued to search for Aeropans, but now she noticed a Cathan keeping pace
with them, always at a distance. She noticed him at first because he did not look as thin as the others, but as she observed him from the corner of her eyes, he also had a hard, unfriendly look about him.
She rubbed her fingers lightly over her jacket, checking that her knife was still in position and could be reached quickly. Perhaps he merely disliked Aeropans—but why follow this group in particular?
It was now late afternoon and there were only a few more places to check. The man was sometimes hard to find, but he was always there—crouched down near a street vendor, eating, or watching acrobats balance whirling plates on long poles. He never kept the same position but always kept them in view. He’s too good at this for an amateur. He’s been trained.
When they finally turned back to the White Jade Pavilion, she leaned close to Stoller. “Go in with the others. Tell them I’ve seen something I want to keep an eye on.” The man had made no hostile moves, but perhaps he had been instructed merely to follow them. If he attempted to enter the pavilion, however, it would be an indication of danger.
Stoller set his jaw but did not attempt to argue. While Ardhuin’s group went in the main entrance, Gutrune followed the others to the small side street that gave them concealed access—and she doubled back, standing in the shadow of the building to watch the street before the pavilion.
The man stopped at the door, and her heartbeat accelerated—but he merely spoke briefly to the doorman and then turned away, back the way he had come. Gutrune took the opportunity to cross to the other side, where an old woman was selling hot noodles. Since she only had so many bowls, many people were standing about her cart, eating. Watching to see how much the others paid, she simply handed the woman the same number of the thin silver coins called yuer without saying anything. It worked.
She ate her noodles slowly, even more so when she saw the only cleaning that was done between customers was a quick rinse with hot water. Stoller had evidently told the others quickly, for she saw Dominic and the form of “Mr. Talbot” appear at one of the large open windows on the second floor. They were looking down at the street, but she was not sure if they could see her.
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