Барб Хенди - A Wind in the Night

The air had grown continually warmer and then hotter during the journey south. Once they were on land again, they’d have to rethink their clothing and perhaps purchase lighter attire—and yet more coin would be used up. If not for that last part, she might have been relieved to think on simple things after the strain of a long, questionable voyage.

Every day, she’d felt a constant threat aimed toward someone she loved or cared for as Leesil had struggled to keep them fed without being caught. She couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that Brot’an had a hand in that as well.

Now it was over, and it wouldn’t be long until they disembarked. For once nobody had to coax Wayfarer into packing and coming out of hiding.

The girl stood on Leesil’s other side at the rail, with Chap between her and Brot’an. They were all unwashed to the point of their hair looking dull, and everyone had lost weight, but they’d survived.

Wayfarer and Chap seemed to have come to terms with the girl’s catching his rising memories at a touch. Brot’an still knew nothing about it, and Leesil thought it might even be useful instead of the dog’s jabbering in their heads with memory-words. Wayfarer might be able to take Wynn’s place in helping Chap clarify what he needed to say.

Magiere wasn’t so certain about that. There had to be more to how a quarter-blood girl, cast out by her ancestors, could catch memories from a majay-hì. But there were too many other things to face as she studied the girl.

As the ship neared another noisy city and seemingly endless port filled with humanity, Wayfarer’s expression blanched. Even to Magiere, the place looked so ... foreign ... compared to anything she’d seen in her travels.

Some structures deeper into the city still peaked high above the waterfront buildings. Some had to be huge, at a guess, for they also appeared to be set farther—and farther—into the immense capital of the Suman Empire. Every structure within closer sight was for the most part golden tan sandstone, aside from heat-grayed timbers and planks.

“What’s first?” Magiere asked.

“I know exactly what,” Leesil provided. “Find a decent inn, a bath, and a meal!”

Magiere eyed the tangled mix of vessels moored at the huge and long piers, and humans, mostly dark skinned, mingling in chaotic masses shifting along the waterfront.

“Does anyone speak Sumanese?” Wayfarer asked very quietly.

The answer was obvious: not one of them.

Magiere knew from times in other ports that it was likely some people here would speak other languages—hopefully ones that she or her companions understood at least a little.

“A place to stay first,” she confirmed. “We’ll take the day for ourselves. Tomorrow we search out this Domin il’Sänke that Wynn wanted us to find.”

Leesil had earlier suggested they set out straight for the Suman branch of the Guild of Sagecraft, but after all that had happened at Wynn’s branch, Magiere thought otherwise.

Dealing with the Numan sages hadn’t been anything like what she’d expected when they had returned to their old friend the little sage. Magiere didn’t care for even the chance of the same in a culture they knew nothing about. Better to have a place of their own, perhaps not even mentioned, when they went seeking “hospitality” from an unknown Suman sage, and a domin at that. The upper ranks of Wynn’s branch had been the least friendly of all.

Leesil had eventually relented on all this, and Brot’an had agreed, though the old assassin likely had his own reasons to keep their chosen place unknown unless necessary.

Now Brot’an turned from the rail to look about the deck, and Magiere already knew whom he sought.

“Saeed,” he called out.

The young man was helping to ready the ship for docking. He was the only one on board whom Magiere trusted a little. He left his pile of rope to come closer.

“What is it?” Saeed asked.

“We need an inn with someone who speaks Numanese,” Brot’an said.

Saeed nodded once. “There is a place close to port called ... well, perhaps you might say ‘The Whistling Wasp.’ In my tongue it is al’D’abbú Asuvära.” He spoke the last words slowly, but Magiere wasn’t sure she could ever repeat them as he went on. “The owner is at least as honest as I.” He smiled a little more. “And he speaks Numanese as well as myself.”

Saeed stepped in at the rail beside Brot’an and pointed into the nearing port as he gave directions.

While grateful, Magiere wondered again what someone like Saeed was doing on this ship with a captain and crew slightly above pirates, slavers, and slaves alike. When the Djinn finally docked and the ramp was lowered, the head of all rodents aboard appeared near the prow.

Captain Amjad glowered at his passengers, but Magiere could swear she saw something of a smile before he turned away. Was he simply looking forward to selling his cargo?

“Oh, dead deities, finally!” Leesil said, not really noticing the captain.

He hefted his pack and hoisted their travel chest as he headed toward the ramp.

Wayfarer stalled, casting a final look at Saeed. As with previous good-byes, she didn’t say a word. Perhaps she didn’t know what to say, though, as Magiere watched, the girl nodded slowly to Saeed, and he returned the same with another smile.

Chap nosed Wayfarer along, and when they all reached the ramp’s bottom and the pier, Magiere ushered the girl directly in front of herself. Chap trotted up to join Wayfarer, who slipped the makeshift leash around his neck for their usual deception. Brot’an stepped in at Magiere’s side as his large amber eyes shifted in looking everywhere. And Leesil led the way.

The hot, dry air was soon laced with spice, mixing with the odors of sea brine and sweaty people. It was as if one mass of smells was being used to mask the other, and Magiere wondered how strong the scents might become inside the city’s narrow ways.

Most of the dusky-skinned and dark-haired people in the crowds wore light, loose-fitting cloth shifts or equally loose leggings or pants. Wraps upon their heads were done up in all sorts of short or tall, thick or thin mounds. Some herded goats or carried square baskets of chickens and other birds she couldn’t name. Many people spoke to one another, but Magiere couldn’t follow a word being said, though at a guess it sounded as though not all of them spoke the same tongue.

She began perspiring into the shirt beneath her hauberk. Out ahead, Leesil tugged at his collar with his free hand.

“We’re going to need some other clothes,” he muttered.

Magiere saw no trees or plant life anywhere, only an endless stretch of light-toned buildings. The travelers stepped off the pier’s landward end and onto the walkway along the shore.

“Do you know where to go?” she asked Brot’an.

“Yes, Saeed was clear. For now, we walk a few streets inland.”

Their small group had gone only a few steps when Leesil halted. Even from behind, Magiere saw him tense and look slowly around. She grew instantly wary, following his gaze. What she saw she didn’t like.

Beneath a wind-scarred sandstone arch, like some gate into the city between two buildings, about a dozen men stood watching her and the others intently. Each of them was dressed the same, in tan pants tucked inside tall boots, dark brown tabards over cream shirts, and red scarves tied around their heads. All wore curved swords in ornate sheaths tucked into heavy fabric waist wraps and peaked steel helmets polished to perfection.

Leesil’s head turned again as he looked, likely for any option of retreat, back the way they had come. Magiere did the same.

Up the pier, before the Djinn ’s ramp, Captain Amjad watched them as he appeared to be talking to three more of the uniformed men. There was one sailor with him as well, and Magiere thought it might be the one who hadn’t returned from that small trading station.