by David Bokman
“A clever defense, yes,” said Mae. “One that indicates we are not welcome here.”
“At least they didn’t choose to kill us.”
“Point taken!” The Dart told the sky. “We’ll be on our way, sorry for troubling you.”
She turned around and indicated for Sam and Na to do the same. Upon stepping back towards the street, Na again felt like she passed a threshold, some sort of invisible barrier. Whatever it was, it gave her an uneasy feeling. Sam followed close behind, but soon stopped upon realizing Mae was not following him. “Mae? You okay?” He turned around. What in the world?
Mae had not been able to take a single step away from the door. As soon as she began lifting her left foot, she felt something grab a hold of her, preventing her from moving. It was the same field that had stopped her from reaching the door. Somehow, the blueish matter had wrapped itself around her right arm, holding it in place only a foot or two away from the building. She tried pulling her arm loose, but to no avail. It seems The Archive did not appreciate our visit. “I might need some help here!” she said, a hint of fear in her voice. She tried again to pull loose, harder this time, but the field only tightened its grip on her arm.
“Is it painful?” asked Sam. Right as he was about to step back towards Mae and try to pull her loose, the door to the building opened inwards. From within came a middle-aged woman, not much older than Mae. Her short hair had streaks of grey in it, and the faint wrinkles on her face indicated signs of age. She wore formal, dark robes, with buttons covering her arms and torso. On both her shoulders, as well as painted on her forehead, was a symbol depicting an open book with strange circles in it.
“Good day to you,” said the woman. She walked around Mae and turned around, standing only a few inches away. “You are the one known as ‘The Dart’, yes?”
“We didn’t mean—”
“I am Archivist Ele. Ten days ago, in a tavern called The Barrel in Grensby, you said that Florianna Oakcrest was part of our organization. Is this correct?”
“It is.” The Dart tried bringing her left hand up to push some of her hair out of the way. She did not make it more than half an inch before the blue barrier caught whim of her movement and coalesced around her other arm as well, locking it in place.
“Our organization does not appreciate such misinformation. In the future, you will refrain from such comments.” The woman walked back into the building and closed the door behind her. As she did, the magical field instantly let go of Mae, giving her control of her limbs once more.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Mae. “Let’s get out of here and find a place to stay the night. Hopefully we’ll be more welcome there.”
⧫ CHAPTER IX ⧫
The Laentarian quickly realized why people had spoken ill of West Kardh’Ao. As he walked through the gates separating west from east, it felt as though he had stepped into the previous century. The grand buildings of the East were replaced with simple fishing huts, the stone road with a muddy mess, and the shops and inns with merchant’s stalls selling old, rotten fish. The people, too, had turned from middle-class craftsmen, rich merchants and noblemen to poor fishermen and dock workers. Thankfully for Jaio, the Portsguard were clearly smaller in size than their counterpart in the east too, and their blue tunics were a rare sight. That should, if nothing else, decrease the risk of the law meddling with his plans. He had made sure to invest in a new sickle before entering this part of town anyway, just to be sure. And I’m glad I did. Without two sickles, I feel almost naked. Wandering further away from the luxuries of the East, the young man quickly spotted tomorrow’s destination. Straight ahead of him, where the Muddy Coast met the city, a large port was situated. Ships ranging in size from small rowboats to formidable galleys were docking and setting sail en masse, and dock workers were hauling cargo like erratic ants. Whereas the rest of the area seemed to be running on fumes, the activity at the port indicated decades of experience and development. When the Laentarian finally managed to avert his eyes from the organized chaos of the port, he realized that the entirety of West Kardh’Ao had the shape of a crescent, with the port at its center. Extending from either side of the port, curved around it, fishing huts and abodes were scattered. The further away from the port they were, the more run down they appeared.
“Make way! Make way, damn it!”
Jaio turned his head in the direction of the voice, and saw a couple of middle-aged men, presumably dock workers, carrying a large barrel between them. “You deaf? Some people are working here,” one of them said, as they pushed their way through.
Looking down where the men had come from, Jaio spotted what he had been searching for. Further down the road stood one of the only stone buildings in the area - a small church, barely taller than the houses in the east. Houses of worship, he had learned, often doubled as houses of information. The Laentarian approached the church.
As was often the case, the large stone doors to the church stood open, and by the looks of them, they would not be easy to close. Upon closer inspection, Jaio judged that this building must be one of the older ones he had seen, its aged stone cracked and crumbled. Engravings on both sides of the double doors informed visitors that this church was devoted to Vatin, the God of the Seas. I doubt Vatin would be pleased if he saw how his worshippers treated his domain, throwing waste and garbage into the waters without a care. Without wasting any time, the Laentarian kicked the dirt and mud off his boots and entered the holy building.
The church looked very different from the inside. Whereas the outside had been a cold block of stone, the inside was filled with fine engravings, immaculate statuettes and even a small pool. Although no service seemed to be taking place at the moment, there were still perhaps two dozen people in the church, praying or talking or just appreciating the artwork. “You have not come here before,” a soft voice spoke.
Jaio took a few extra seconds to finish admiring the interior, before shifting his attention to the voice. Fifteen feet to his left, kneeling on a small stone plinth with her eyes closed, sat a slender, beautiful woman, her hair dripping wet. “Ah, how did you know?”
She smiled and opened her eyes, which were such a deep blue that Jaio suspected some sort of magic was involved. “You walk lighter than most, but I feel something heavy is weighing you down. Is that why you have come?”
“No, not quite, but speaking of being weighed down, let me get you a towel for your hair.”
The woman’s smile widened. “You are kind, but it does not weigh me down. We high priestesses of Vatin are duty-bound and honored to never let our hair dry while we are awake.”
“You must get sick terribly often?”
“Only if Vatin sees fit.”
“So, this is your church, High Priestess?”
“Amara, please. And no, it is Vatin’s church, which he has given to all of us. It is mine as much as it is yours.”
“But you are in charge?”
Amara got down from the plinth. “Would you walk with me?”
“I would be honored.”
The Laentarian and the Priestess walked back the way Jaio had come at a slow pace. It did not take a scholar to figure out that most people in West Kardh’Ao respected and revered Vatin; most everyone made way for Amara as she went, often stopping to greet and thank her. One young woman even rushed up to the priestess with a bucket of water. “Your hair, Amara! It is drying! Here, allow me.”
Amara put her hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “No, Sofie. Thank you, but this water is yours. Use it for drinking or for cooking, not for me.” She picked up a small waterskin from one of the pockets of her robes and poured it on her hair. “See? There is nothing to worry about.”
They walked along, until eventually, they made it close to the port. “It is a magnificent port,” commented Jaio.
“It is. But, let me ask you, who is in charge of it?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. The Portmaster?”
Amara laughed, and n
odded. “Yes, Portmaster Paavo is the lawful warden of the port. But is he in charge?”
Jaio thought for a moment. “If he says a ship cannot enter, it cannot enter. If he says the port is closed for business, it is closed for business.”
“But what if the dock workers decide the port is closed for business? Or, what if they decide it is open for business, even when Paavo says it is closed? Or perhaps all the captains decide their ships will no longer dock here, or the merchants decide to no longer buy their wares, or the crew on the boats decide to stop rowing?”
“Well then the port would be rendered obsolete, it would stop functioning. But they do not.”
“You are right, of course,” said Amara. “As long as Portmaster Paavo ensures control, balance, and stability in the port, its lifeblood will continue pumping.”
“And as long as you ensure stability in your… Yes, I believe I see your point, High Priestess.”
Amara nodded in approval. “The Gods have gifted you with a sharp and open mind. An invaluable tool.”
“The Gods? Do you worship the other Gods as well?”
“Oh, no, Vatin has my unwavering attention. But many others do, and I do not want to intrude on your beliefs. Whoever or whatever you believe in, you are welcome in our church.” Amara took a breath, as if preparing to speak, but then seemed to change her mind. “May I ask a personal question?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you walk through the doors to our church?”
Jaio looked out onto the coast. “It pains me to admit, but it was not purely for religious purposes. I am new to this place, and assumed the church to be the one place where I would be welcome with my questions and my lack of knowledge.”
Amara smiled once more, but this time, there was sadness in her face. She sat down on a wooden bench overlooking the port and indicated for Jaio to join her. “I will listen, and I will answer all of your questions. But in return, would you answer some of mine?”
The High Priestess was more candid than Jaio had dared hope. No matter his questions, she responded warmly and elaborately. The Laentarian believed she would have gladly told him where her family fortune was hidden, had he decided to ask. Instead, he asked about the city - mainly West Kardh’Ao - and how it functioned. His first question was about criminal activity, a subject which proved even more intricate than he had feared. Crime in West Kardh’Ao was as common as coin in East Kardh’Ao, he was told. Poor, discontent commoners often turned to thievery to survive, and the Portsguard were too thinly spread to effectively deal with it.
The main culprit, however, was The New Port. The crime syndicate had existed ever since the city was divided hundreds of years ago, but had grown even more active during the last year. Amara told him they mainly consisted of people who had lost their jobs, or been unable to find one in the first place. Operating from the sewers, they were able to evade the Portsguard for the most part. “The Portsguard, at times, do not even seem particularly interested in catching them. The rulers do not care much for us on this side of the city,” said Amara. Thankfully, the organization was rarely violent. “They sometimes kill a merchant or two as a show of force, but most of the time, they resort to theft and burglary.”
The Portsguard, Amara told him, were led by Frida Fishbane, the young cousin of Portmaster Paavo and Townmaster Zena. Due to the organization’s lack of funding and size, they were not able to put a stop to The New Port. They had apparently tried using toxins to get them out of the sewers, but the ruffians knew the sewers better than the Portsguard, and it had proved fruitless. When Frida occasionally got the chance to crack down on crime, though, Jaio was told she was fearless and ruthless. “She likes to set an example when she can,” said Amara. “While I disagree with her violent ways, I understand why she feels the need. She has a very frustrating and scrutinized position.”
Jaio’s following questions thankfully proved easier to answer. He learned about the lay of the land, which stores and taverns to visit and avoid, and how to navigate the port. “High Priestess, you must allow me to pay you. Your information will undoubtedly prove invaluable to me.”
“We were all lost, once, and we all deserve a helping hand,” she said. “You need not pay me, but if you have the time, I have a few questions of my own.”
“Of course. I do not know what I could possibly tell you, but I will do my best.”
The Priestess fixated her eyes on him, and he felt almost unable to look away. “I realize this may seem a dumb question, but why are you not religious?”
“I don’t believe I said I wasn’t.”
“Of course, but I am not wrong, am I?”
This time, it was Jaio that gave a sad smile. “Well, I… I doubt any god would have me, to be honest.”
“Nonsense.”
“Thank you, but it’s okay. I’m not a good man. I can live with that reality, but I do not wish for my ways to poison your community, or any other.”
“I agree that there is a darkness in you,” said the Priestess. “But I do not agree that it defines you. Just from our short conversation I have seen curiosity and generosity, traits not shared by many in this area.”
“Your kindness is unwarranted, High Priestess. I’m a bandit. I do not like the word, but that does not change reality. I steal and kidnap and kill, and I purposefully chose not to tell you of my profession fearing you would not help me, which in itself is another malicious act, and—” Jaio stopped himself. “I should not have burdened you with this.”
Amara put her hand on Jaio’s shoulder, so gently that he could barely feel it. “I have two favors to ask of you, if you would let me. The first favor is this: join one of our services. I do not know how long you intend to stay here, but if you are here tomorrow evening, we are holding the Sermon of Storms. Attend it with us.”
“It is the least I can do for you,” said Jaio. “And your second favor?”
“My second favor is this: tell me your name.”
The Laentarian smiled. “That favor I can oblige at once. My name is Jaio. Jaio of Laentar.”
For once, Amara did not respond with a smile. “Laentar, did you say?”
“I’m afraid so. Do you know it?”
Amara’s eyes wandered across the port. “I was there for a short while, years ago. Over a decade ago, by now. Time moves quickly. It was… Were you there during the fall?”
“I was.”
“Well, you will not find the lawless people of our city to be any trouble, then. Many of them admire Laentarians, almost to the point of worship. The people in power do not share that sentiment, though. I don’t think you would be wise to linger here.”
“Of course. May I ask what you did in Laentar, on your visit?”
“I had heard it was a scarred, damaged place. In my stupidity, I thought I could help heal it, help bring some… salvation, I suppose. My efforts have never been met by such animosity as when I was in Laentar. It was an unpleasant place.”
“It was indeed. I understand if you do not wish me to attend your sermon.”
The high priestess stood up and looked out over the port once more. “No, please come. The invitation stands. I hope to see you tomorrow, Jaio of Laentar. Take care.”
Amara walked back towards the church, but Jaio remained seated a while longer, lost in thought. You have found yourself in a most intriguing place, Jaio, he thought. Most intriguing.
The city became increasingly unpleasant the closer Jaio got to the port, and the closer the sun got to disappearing. Near the port, there were three types of people. There were the workers, the ruffians, and those wanting to get away from the port as fast as possible. Common people looked worried, almost paranoid, as they walked the streets. Jaio felt right at home. Compared to Laentar, navigating this part of town was a breeze, and a welcome change from the eastern part of the city. As he made it into the heart of the port, he came across an old merchant in the business of dismantling her stall for the day. “Excuse me, madame!” he called out, se
eing her pack up her wares. “They say it is good luck to be the last customer of the day, and I am always in need of good luck. Would you be so kind as to show me your wares before departing?”
The old woman looked at Jaio, skepticism in her eyes. “Who says that?”
“Ah, perhaps not a common saying in this land. No matter. What is it you sell?”
“Threadfins. Best in the port.”
“You are the savior of my supper, madame! Prepare your finest threadfin for me, please. What price do you charge?”
“Five copper a fish.”
“Ah, I seem to be fresh out of copper. But seeing as you so kindly re-opened your stall for me, shall we say one moon for the fish, and another moon for your trouble?”
The old woman started mumbling to herself. “Ten coppers for a… ten coppers to a moon, ten moons, or is it five moons to a sun? Twenty suns to a… Did you say two moons?”
“Your hearing has not aged a day, I see. Yes, two moons.”
“Yes, yes, that will do. That will do. Thank you kindly. One threadfin, here you are.”
Jaio was given a silvery fish barely larger than his own hand. The woman seemed to have spoken true; the fish looked strong and healthy, if rather small. Content with his purchase, the Laentarian thanked the merchant and continued his walk portsbound, fish in hand.
The merchants, like the threadfin woman, all seemed to be closing up shop for the day. The dockworkers and ships still seemed to be full at work, and Jaio suspected that nightfall would not stop them. Proving his point, a small carrack, hosting a crew of perhaps thirty men, had just begun docking next to him. Although one of the smaller ships of its kind, it was still a formidable feat of craftsmanship and nautical engineering, and looked like it had many coasts left to visit before meeting its end. Jaio sat down at the other edge of the pier, observing the procedure. Men were running around like ants, shouting commands and throwing ropes in a ballet of choreographed chaos. Their ballet proved effective, as the ship was docked and being unloaded within minutes. Jaio spotted a figure that he assumed was in charge, and grabbed his attention with a wave. “Excuse me! Are you the captain of this fine vessel?”
