James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“She kidnaps Gifted for the Gil’shar?” Wirr’s tone was dark. “I thought the Sahdrelac and his people were steering clear of that sort of thing.”

Anaar’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t think the Sahdrelac knows,” he said with amusement. He looked at Wirr consideringly. “Breshada and her ilk don’t have much opposition here. Half of Talmiel is full of Loyalists, the other half Administrators. It’s basically a province of Desriel.”

Wirr scowled; that notion clearly irked him. “And you? Why help us?” he asked in a low voice.

The man shrugged. “I’m a businessman, and Administrators and Hunters are good enough to deal with when they’re comfortable. A couple of Gifted caught trying to travel through their city, though… and on the Night of the Ravens, no less… well, suddenly they are less comfortable. Increased patrols and more questions in the days to come. Generally bad for business, if you get my drift.” Anaar pushed his chair back, giving them a brief nod. “Still, heed my warning or not. It’s your choice.”

“Wait.” Wirr wore a thoughtful expression. “You seem like a man who… understands how things work around here.” He bit at a fingernail. “How would one go about getting across the river - quietly?”

Anaar paused in the act of rising, then sat again with a frown. “ Into Desriel? Without using the bridge?” He stared at Wirr as if reevaluating him. “I can’t say as that’s a request I’ve heard before.”

Wirr shrugged. “Is it possible?”

Anaar rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I can safely say that it could be done. It is a little more expensive than using the bridge, though.”

Wirr dug into the pouch on his belt, bringing out a couple of gold coins and surreptitiously showing them to Anaar.

The dark-skinned man smiled, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. “Perhaps I misspoke. A lot more expensive than using the bridge.”

Sighing, Wirr fished a few more coins out of the pouch. It was more than half of what they had left, enough to feed and house a family for a year. Davian was about to protest, but a quick glance from Wirr made him snap his mouth shut.

Finally Anaar nodded. He leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “You have rooms here?”

Wirr hesitated. “Up the stairs, third on the right.” He held up a hand. "Before we agree to anything, though, I need your word that you’ll not harm us or turn us in."

Anaar gave him a wide, vaguely incredulous smile. "My word? If it will ease your mind, then you have it," he said with a chuckle. "As I said, I’m a businessman. So long as I get paid, you’ll be in no danger from me."

Wirr glanced at Davian, who gave him the slightest of nods in response. Anaar wasn’t lying.

"Good enough," said Wirr.

Anaar rubbed his chin, still looking amused. “Go back to your rooms for now, and wait there for me until later this evening. Do not leave for any reason, and do not open the door for anyone except me. Be prepared to depart as soon as I arrive.” He plucked a couple of the coins from Wirr’s palm. “I will collect the rest once you are in Desriel,” he concluded.

Wirr inclined his head. “Agreed.”

Anaar rose and walked away without another word.

Davian and Wirr sat in silence for a few moments. Then Davian turned to his friend.

“What was that?”

Wirr stood, stretching. “He’s a smuggler, Dav. ”

“I guessed as much,” said Davian dryly. “But why are we trusting him?”

“Did he lie to us?”

Davian made a face. “No, but that is hardly the same thing as being trustworthy. He could change his mind in the next few hours, and we wouldn’t know until the moment he’s stabbed us in the back.”

Wirr shook his head. “He already knows what we are; if he’d been able to profit from turning us in to Administration, he would have done so already. This way, he gets to keep the streets of Talmiel quiet and earns some coin at the same time. We get into Desriel. Everyone wins.” He paused, frowning as he considered the last part of his statement. “Well. As far as these things go.”

“I think he saw the Vessel,” said Davian, unable to keep the worry from his voice.

Wirr grimaced. “I wondered about that too, given the timing, but what’s done is done. If he did see it, we can only hope he doesn’t know what it is.”

They made their way back through the common room. From the corner of his eye Davian could see the woman Anaar had pointed out watching them thoughtfully, but she made no move to stop or pursue them as they left.

He breathed a sigh of relief once they were out of sight. She was so young, barely older than he and Wirr. Could she really be a Hunter – someone who tracked and killed the Gifted for profit?

“I haven’t used Essence since we left Caladel,” murmured Wirr, his thoughts obviously running along similar lines. “And she never got close enough for skin contact. She can’t have noticed us with a Finder.”

That hadn’t occurred to Davian. “Then how….”

“Exactly.”

They walked the rest of the way to their room in uneasy silence, Wirr latching the door as soon as they were inside.

Davian gathered his belongings – which had barely been unpacked – and lay back on the bed, determined to get some rest before they had to leave. He was uncomfortable placing so much trust in Anaar, but he knew it was a chance they’d had to take. If the bridge was as heavily guarded as Wirr seemed to think, the smuggler was probably their best chance of getting across the border.

Still, he touched the Vessel in his pocket again, unable to shake the impression that Anaar had seen it. He could only hope the man hadn’t recognised it for what it was.

Suddenly remembering what had happened in the common room, Davian took the Vessel out, removing its cloth and studying it closely. The glow he’d seen earlier had vanished, and its metallic surface wasn’t even particularly warm any more.

“What are you looking for, Dav?” asked Wirr.

Davian hesitated. “There was… some kind of symbol on it, when I dropped it downstairs. A wolf, I think. You didn’t see it when you picked it up?”

Wirr shook his head.

Davian sighed but nodded, unsurprised. "It’s gone now, anyway." He stared at the cube intently for a few more seconds, then wrapped it again and slipped it back into his pocket.

Wirr watched him with a worried frown. "Let me know if it comes back," he said eventually.

Davian just inclined his head in acknowledgement, and they lapsed into a companionable silence.

He puzzled over what he’d seen for a few more minutes before deciding to put the issue from his mind, at least for now. Worrying about it, or the impending journey into Desriel for that matter, gained him nothing. He had to trust that Ilseth and the sig’nari had known what they were doing when they’d sent him here.

He closed his eyes with a deep sigh and settled down to wait.

Less than an hour had passed when someone knocked at their door.

Wirr and Davian looked at each other, expressions uncertain. “It’s hardly ‘late evening’,” said Wirr. He kept his voice low, though whomever was outside was unlikely to be able to hear them over the cheerful commotion of the crowd in the street.

“Maybe he had to come early,” said Davian, his words lacking conviction.

The knock came again, this time more insistent. “Open up. Anaar sent us,” a voice called quietly from the other side.

Wirr hesitated. “He said not to open the door for anyone but him,” he called back.

“Plan’s changed,” came the voice again, soft but urgent. “A Hunter got wind of what was happening.”