“The Asoli are a joke,” Keris cut in. “Ask him what would happen if they saw someone steal your purse. Go ahead.”
“Redistribution of wealth is legal in Sakara,” Alondo returned, without waiting for the question.
Keris scowled. “Redistribution? You mean theft.”
“Theft…commerce…it’s all the same really.” Shann looked puzzled. “Look,” Alondo continued, “If I make something and sell it for more than it cost me to make, then that’s a kind of stealing.”
“That’s profit, not stealing,” Keris corrected.
“It all amounts to the same thing,” Alondo shot back. “If Shann does a day’s work for me and earns a quarter astria, but I only pay her an eighth, it’s no different than if I went to her at the end of the day and stole the eighth from her. In Sakara the only difference is that they recognise all dishonesty for what it is and declare it to be legal. I have always found the fact that the Sakarans are so honest about their dishonesty to be quite refreshing.”
Keris shook her head. “You’re not even making any sense.”
“Indeed,” Lyall agreed, “That’s all a part of his enduring charm.”
“Why, thank you,” Alondo removed his hat and bowed expansively. “Actually, theft, as you call it, is highly regulated by the Guilds, along with all forms of commerce. Stealing from children, the elderly or any vulnerable people is strictly forbidden, as are all forms of violence. No-one ever gets attacked in Sakara. I doubt the good citizens of Chalimar or Corte or Lind could say the same, especially when the Keltar pay a visit.” He looked back at Keris pointedly.
“Keris is no longer Keltar,” Lyall reminded him.
Alondo grinned from ear to ear. “Then she should love it in Sakara.”
~
Shann sat by the fire with her arms wrapped around her knees, looking out to sea. Ail-Mazzoth’s gentle light lent a tinge of pale pink to the breakers. The red sun sat low behind her in the western sky, dominating the night.
Alondo’s silhouette approached and sat down beside her. They sat in silence for a while. Finally, the musician spoke. “Enjoying the view on your own?”
“Yes,” she returned.
“Pretend I’m not here then.”
Shann smiled as she felt the cool onshore breeze and smelled the freshness of the ocean. “I’d love to sail in a ship.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“No-one,” she replied innocently.
“I see.” Alondo splayed his arms out behind him and stretched his legs out in front. The dune on which they were sitting was peppered with tufts of purple grass, running down to the beach. Small creatures scuttled across the wet sand, busy about their night errands. “Boxx says we are due to get another message day after tomorrow.”
“Really?” She unclasped her arms and turned to stare at him, all thoughts of their little charade forgotten.
“Yes…well I’m pretty sure at any rate. You know what having a conversation with a Chandara is like. I ask it, ‘What is the time of the next message from Annata?’ And it says ‘It Is The Time Of The Next Message,’ or something like that and then we go round and round for a while and I ask again, ‘How many days to the next message?’ And it says ‘Two,’ so I say, ‘You mean two days?’ And it says, ‘Two, Two, Two.’” He was doing a fair approximation of Boxx’s thin, high squeak, and Shann was giggling uncontrollably. “Of course, it could have just been a Chandara mating call for all I know, but I think it was trying to tell us that we can expect the next communication soon.”
“I wonder what Chandara mating habits are? Perhaps someone should ask it.” Shann chuckled.
“I nominate you,” Alondo countered. “Anyhow, we can’t do much more till then, so Lyall has a surprise planned for tomorrow.”
Shann’s eyes grew round. “What is it?”
“Can’t say. It’s a secret.” Shann looked at him doe eyed. “Well, all right, since you forced it out of me, we’re having a celebration at an inn near the wharf, The Calandra.
Her eyes lit up, then her face fell almost immediately. “But…I haven’t anything to wear.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Alondo confided, “It’s not that kind of celebration.”
“Oh,” Shann responded, not entirely understanding his meaning. She grew quiet, as her main preoccupation pushed itself to the forefront of her thoughts yet again. “Alondo?”
“Yes?”
“What do we do if Annata doesn’t contact us?”
“You have to have faith, Shann.”
She sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve never been very religious.”
“I wasn’t talking about that kind of faith–although there is a place for that. I meant faith in the people around you, those you work with, who want the same things you do…like Keris.” Alondo flashed a sideways glance as if he had thrown a ball and wanted to see if she would catch it.
Shann was staring out across the sea once more. “She would have left him to die.”
“You mean Lyall?” Alondo followed her gaze out to sea as if he were seeking the same answers as she was. “Did you know that she was preparing to go down there with Boxx to get you when you two turned up?”
Shann felt the old resentment welling up inside her. This is Alondo. He thinks well of everyone. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true, Shann. I was out of it, as you know. It was her idea to go after you. She was going to go alone. I persuaded her to take Boxx. Then you and Lyall appeared out of nowhere.” He frowned. “You know, Keris was right. As Keltar, she is trained to think tactically in any action, to assess the odds. The odds said that Lyall should have been dead, that any attempt to rescue him would only put more lives at risk. However,” he put his arm around her shoulder, “what she doesn’t know–what you proved –is that sometimes, love and friendship can beat the odds.”
A tear rolled down Shann’s cheek as they sat in silence together, listening to the gentle soughing of the dimly sunlit sea.
~
Sakara. A heady perfume of salt, sweat and spice. The creaking of masts. The gentle lapping of water against the quayside. Gundir barking. Children chasing each other through a maze of oddly shaped crates. Weather-worn sailors and thieves jostling with noble women and grandees. Gaudy merchants proffering exotic articles from beneath the shelter of brightly coloured awnings. Birds wheeling overhead, squabbling for scraps. Shann’s senses were overcome by the rush of sensations. Sakara was Life–raw, unalloyed, unpretentious.
The party strolled across the wharf. Barques and luggers were laid to, side by side, their masts crammed together like an offshore forest. Alondo took in the scene with a sweep of his hand. “Well,” he grinned at Shann, “what do you think?”
“It’s...amazing,” she replied honestly. She pointed to a tall figure in a green jacket and large plumed hat, who seemed to be watching over the goings on at the docks like a hungry perridon. “Is that one of them?”
“One of the Asoli, yes,” Alondo affirmed. “Don’t worry. They won’t bother anyone unless they spot an infraction of the commerce laws.”
Keris had been watching over Boxx, fending off the prying looks of onlookers with her own fierce stare. The curiosity seekers scurried away, suddenly recalling some life or death errand. She turned to Lyall anxiously. “I’m not sure this place is safe for Boxx.”
Lyall regarded the Chandara, who was standing on its hind limbs, watching the hustle and bustle with its head cocked to one side. “I’m sure it will be fine. People are bound to be inquisitive–the overwhelming majority will never have seen a Chandara before. But remember, all forms of violence are strictly forbidden here. Besides, this is a very cosmopolitan city. Folk are used to sights that are out of the ordinary.”
“Kelanni Live Close Here. Like Chandara In The Great Tree.” Boxx’s chirping voice sounded wistful, homesick.
Lyall bent down to address the creature directly. “Boxx, how many days till the next message from Annata?”
&
nbsp; “One,” it responded confidently.
Lyall drew himself erect again, “Well we can’t do much until then. So later on, after some sightseeing, I thought we might make a night of it.”
“At the Calandra,” Shann finished.
Lyall’s eyes narrowed. He looked from Shann to Alondo and back again. “Yes, at the Calandra. I see our musician friend’s tongue has been wagging again.”
“She forced it out of me,” Alondo pleaded.
“I’m sure she did.” Lyall’s face was serious, but his blue eyes had a twinkle in them.
Keris’ forehead was creased. “I assume that is a drinking establishment? I think we should avoid doing anything to attract attention to ourselves. In any case, I don’t drink; neither does Boxx. And the girl is too young.”
Shann shot the older woman a look of pure resentment. Fortunately, Lyall cut in before she could respond. “Nonsense. If she is old enough to save my life, then she’s old enough for a mug of horge. As for Boxx, it might enjoy liquor for all we know. I don’t recall anyone having asked it. You are welcome to come with us. You can drink plain water if you like and make sure we don’t embarrass ourselves too much.”
Shann felt a wicked sense of satisfaction at seeing Keris put in her place. Whatever tomorrow held in store, she was going to enjoy this evening. Perhaps it’s time for a new outfit, after all? Smiling brightly, she hooked her arm into Alondo’s and led him off towards the brightly coloured stalls.
~
The Calandra was set in an imposing four storey terrace, fronting the wharf area. Shann had learned that Calandra was the name of a famous ship, captained by a certain Arval, who seemed to have more stories, exploits, anecdotes and downright tall tales attributed to him than any person could reasonably accomplish in a single lifetime. Shann was seriously coming to doubt whether such an individual had ever really existed, but his ship was depicted on a large board outside the inn’s entrance, as if testifying to the truth of the claims.
The inside of the Calandra was big, much bigger than the Wayfarer in Corte. The spacious seating area had an air of flamboyance and frippery that was in stark contrast to the plainness and austerity of hostelries within the Prophet’s area of influence. Ornate bronze lamps set in rich wood panelling cast a warm glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. Waitresses in blue cote-hardies sailed between tables like carracks in full sail, balancing trays piled with plates of food and steaming mugs of horge. The noise level was pleasantly rowdy.
The party were bivouacked at a corner table–Keris had insisted. The dark haired woman sat in her traditional dark colours with her back to the wall, eyes flicking from one individual to another. She looked as if she were picking out targets. Shann was dressed in a light blue gown, drawn in at the waist and swept to the floor. It was the prettiest, most impractical and easily the most expensive garment she had ever worn in her life. Alondo was seated next to Shann, his crimson suit and hat now cleaned and pressed. He whispered in her ear every so often, sending the girl into fits of giggles. Boxx was perched on a stool next to Keris, sipping from a mug of horge. As it quaffed, its mouth rippled in a way that Shann found hysterically funny.
Lyall was on a stool next to Alondo, cradling the mug before him, looking quite contented. He had purchased a magnificent black and white outfit for the occasion, trimmed with gold and silver brocade, which drew admiring glances from staff and patrons alike. He could easily have been taken for a highborn noble. What is your background? Where do you come from? Even after so many days of living, working and battling together, Shann realised that she still knew next to nothing about Lyall’s origins. He seemed to have a talent for avoiding the subject.
The table was becoming increasingly messy, with spills of horge, discarded plates and scattered scraps of food. A waitress with a delicate chin and fair hair that cascaded about her shoulders appeared, deftly sweeping away the leftovers and empty mugs and replacing them with fresh mugs of the steaming brew. Shann whooped with delight and took a decidedly unladylike swig. The waitress regarded Alondo coquettishly before moving on to the next table.
Shann’s eyes widened. She snickered into Alondo’s ear, “I think she likes you.”
“You mean Gianna?” Alondo whispered, “Never seen her before.”
Shann slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Her eyes alighted on the table next to them. It was empty, save for a cross shaped board with stone pieces mounted on it. She clapped her hands. “Look, sassatan.”
“Shassatan,” Lyall corrected. “Do you play, Keris?”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “It is a required part of training at the keep; you know that.”
“Perhaps you should ask someone for a game?” Lyall suggested.
Keris huffed, “I seriously doubt whether anyone in this establishment could give me a worthwhile game.”
Shann was wriggling on her stool. “Ooooh, let me play. I want to learn, pleeease?”
“We’re not having you play Keris,” Lyall ruled. “There’d be blood on the board.”
“I’ll play.” All eyes turned to Alondo.
“You?” Keris had an expression as if she had just detected a foul odour. “What do you know of tactics?”
“Nothing, really, I suppose.”
“Have you even played the game before?” Keris sounded exasperated.
“Once or twice…I think.”
Keris waved a dismissive hand. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Winning isn’t everything,”
Keris looked as if he had just said something blasphemous. “Of course it is.”
Alondo shrugged. “If you say so. Shall we play?”
There was a scraping of stools against floorboards as they all stood up and transferred to the shassatan table. Boxx hopped down from its perch and climbed onto a stool next to Keris, leaning over the board as if it were studying it. “You Move, They Move, You Win.”
“That’s the general idea,” Keris concurred. They selected the placement of their pieces on the board: red for Alondo, yellow for Keris. “Would you like a handicap?” she offered.
“Oh…no, I don’t think so.”
“Very well,” she motioned to Alondo. “After you.”
“Why, thank you.” Alondo bowed his head formally. His hand hovered over a red piece. “This is The Fool,” he announced. He paused uncertainly. “Does The Fool move two spaces or three?”
“Three,” Keris’ impatience was starting to show through. “Do you need me to go over the rules?”
“Er, no…no. I’m sure it will all come back to me as we play.” He moved the piece the required number of spaces, then twirled it between his fingers as if trying to make up his mind. “Northern…er, no sorry, Eastern orientation.”
Keris picked up a yellow piece, holding it between thumb and forefinger. “The Door,” she declared, looking at Alondo as if she were instructing a small child. She moved it four spaces towards the centre of the board and turned it so that it faced sideways. “West.”
Shann’s horge-soaked brain was confused. She turned to Lyall. “All the pieces look the same.”
“That’s right. Shassatan involves memory skills as well as tactical and positional training. You have to remember your pieces’ designation, as well as those of your opponent. Certain strategies can even alter a piece’s designation during a game. Also you notice that at the end of each move, every piece is given a ‘facing’, which raises its defence rating on that side.”
Shann blinked. “It sounds really complicated.”
Lyall laughed. “Oh, this is nothing. Shassatan can be played by up to four players. Imagine trying to keep that lot in your head. A full game is normally played with twenty-one pieces a side, but the number of starting pieces isn’t fixed. Beginners usually start with four of five pieces a side and build up from there. You can also have unequal starting numbers, where an experienced player will agree to start with less pieces to even up the game. That’s called a handicap.
> “What makes the game so fascinating, is that with the number of different possible designations of pieces and the various combinations of strategies between them, the possibilities are virtually endless. No two games are ever alike.”
Pieces were being thinned out as they were moved across the board. Both sides of the table were littered with those captured or sacrificed. A subtle change in the players was also taking place. Alondo’s moves were becoming faster and more confident. Keris, on the other hand, was hesitating more, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Shann cupped her hand to Lyall’s ear. “When does it end?” she whispered.
“When one side or the other no longer has the right pieces to form a strategy, they cannot win,” Lyall confided. At that point ‘Kada-Lorran’ is declared.” He registered her puzzled expression. “It means ‘victory and defeat.’”
“Ah…” she acknowledged, adding, “Who do you think will win?”
Lyall’s eyes were smiling a secret smile. “Wait and see.”
Keris seemed paralysed by indecision. Finally, she moved two pieces so that they were adjacent to a third.
“Facing?” Alondo asked.
“Oh, er…North,” she replied distractedly.
Alondo smiled his sweetest smile, went to a piece immediately and moved it ten spaces into the centre of the board. Still smiling, he turned it. “South.” Keris was staring at the board intently. “Did I make a wrong move?” he asked innocently.
“What? No…no…” her voice trailed off.
“I think your Wheel is threatened,” he suggested, helpfully.
“Yes, I see that, thank you.”
Shann’s face was buried in Lyall’s shoulder. She was stuffing the brocade on the lapel of his jacket into her mouth to try and suppress her laughter. Her small body shook with the effort.
Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms Page 27