by Howell, Rob
I could barely see in the room’s darkness, but I had enough light to see Gjon flip a hood over his head to obscure his face. Wordlessly, he handed me a scratchy woolen hood for me to do the same. The hood smelled of sweat and blood and corruption.
Behind me I could see the shadowed figure pulling the plank back into place. Gjon nudged me. He opened a door, and hints of light elsewhere in the building framed his tiny form. I followed him down several flights of steps and to a door leading out into the streets of Achrida. He pulled off the hood and tossed it into a basket by the door. I again did the same.
I had no idea where I was, so I simply followed Gjon through wandering streets and neighborhoods until finally I realized we had arrived at the Trade Road.
“Yer knowin’ whar y’are, lad?”
I nodded.
“Then I’s leavin’ ya now. Have to get Ylli’s word to them as needs it.”
I nodded again, clasped his forearm in thanks, and turned south on the Trade Road. The sun had started hinting at its arrival, grayly peeking across the lake. Little traffic walked the Trade Road at this hour, though as I made my way south ever more people beginning their day joined us.
Sebastijan had been hired by Pal to follow me at one point, and near here I had finally noticed him and turned the tables. We had confronted each other in a street leading off of the Trade Road in a shabby neighborhood near South Gate.
I found the street. Several hundred yards down it, toward the lake, stood the Golden Sea, marked by a cunningly painted sign that, despite its small size, conveyed a field of grain looking like the waves of an ocean. The door was latched. I rattled it until a grumpy, bleary-eyed woman peered out of the door.
“Drowned God, it’s early. Who’re you?
“I need Radovan.”
“Oh, one’a them. Two dinars. Silver.”
I looked at her without saying anything for a long while until she gestured angrily.
“Stick a trident up my ass, then. One dinar.”
I gave her the dinar, and she let me in. I followed her up two flights of stairs to a small room with a shuttered window, a table carved by centuries of bored people with knives, and several rickety three-legged stools.
“Yer not getting’ nothin’ now, I’m goin’ back to sleep. If by the Fast Talker’s fancy, yer one as can pay, be coming down later. Radovan will come when he comes in, the big fool.” She shuffled off, muttering curses.
The tension of the entry into Achrida was fading, and I suddenly remembered my beard itched. I scratched it with a vigor worthy of a great hero like Marko.
It had been a long, sleepless night. I put the stools next to the door and slid the table between it and me. Hopefully, they would give me enough warning, should anyone attack me.
I stretched out with my pack as a pillow, the spatha drawn and in my hand, my spear leaning handily in a corner. I had hoped after the long night, the hard wooden floor would feel like a down bed, but I could not get comfortable. Though I dozed off periodically, I never fell asleep.
Hence, I was on my feet immediately when the door crashed into the stools and table I had set before it.
“Open up, sheep’s dick.”
That rumbling voice could only be Radovan’s, so I sheathed my sword and let him in. Once the door was closed, I turned to him.
“I told you not to call me that.”
He peered at me closely, looking at the hair and beard, and started laughing.
“I didn’t realize it was a sheep’s dick I already knew.”
I shook my head.
“So, why are you here?”
“It’s a long story. I need a place to stay.”
“Ragnar kick you out of the Faerie?”
“No, not at all. I just need a place to stay where nobody knows me.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Sebastijan will be here in four days. At least that long, probably longer. Possibly much longer.”
Radovan sighed and nodded. “I have a place.”
“Sebastijan said you would. Also, we need you to deliver a letter from Ylli to Gibroz.”
He chuckled. “He’s not boring to work for.”
“He’s not boring to employ.”
“Grab your stuff.”
I did, and he led me out the Golden Sea, toward the lake, and through a number of short streets. The buildings here were taller because they had less space on the ground, and the shade of their looming limestone blocks was a welcome relief as the sun had already started her merciless reign for the day.
I followed him into a house. Inside was a long hallway leading to rising steps in the back. The wooden floor showed many years of use but had recently been scraped and oiled. Icons and triptychs lined the walls, filling the hall with color. Two doors led to our left. A third door led under the stairs.
Out of the farther door, a woman’s head poked out. Long, lustrous, brown hair framed the face, and her brown eyes lit up when she saw me.
“Sweetie? Is this a new friend?”
“Sweetie?”
“Shut up, Sevener,” Radovan hissed before responding to her.
“Yes, dear one.”
“Oh, good. You know I like new friends.”
She stepped out, and I caught the slightest hint that she had just slid a knife into a hidden sheath.
“She’s clearly the woman for you.”
Radovan laughed and caught her up in a hug. “That she is. If Sebastijan was smart, he’d hire my Jovanka here and I’d keep the house for her.”
She smacked his chest. “As if I’d trust your cooking.”
Radovan and I both laughed.
“My friend will be staying here for some time.”
“And I’ll need to be leaving and returning at odd times.”
She sniffed. “Could I have any other expectation? I know the quality of his friends. Do try not to bleed on the floors. Or the furniture.”
I bowed. “It shall be as you command.”
They laughed in return.
“Settle this sheep’s di…, errr…, this fool in. Unless I miss my guess, he slept little for the night and will want some food and a pallet. I have tasks to see to this morning that he’s already made me late for. And now he’s asked me to deliver a letter to Gibroz.”
She laughed and kissed his cheek. He lumbered out the front door, and she followed him to flip the latch closed.
“Come along, then.”
She led me up the stairs to the second floor. It too had a hallway with two doors leading off from it. She led me into a room with a pallet covered in blankets, a chamber pot, a table, and a chair. Clearly I was not the first person to come to her doorway in need of lodging at a moment’s notice.
“I’ll bring you a bowl of water to wash the road off of you. Rest now. Later, I’ll show you where to put your nightsoil and I’ll have a keystone to let you in and out of the house without Radovan or me letting you in. Have you eaten?”
I shook my head.
“I have fruit and some of last night’s goat.”
“That will do fine.”
She left and I started taking off my armor. Fatigue made the task harder than normal, but I finally managed to fumble the straps loose.
Jovanka delivered a bowl of water, and by the time I had finished washing she had returned with cold goat and three juicy apricots.
I barely noticed her leaving as I tore into the goat, fatigue briefly forgotten. It returned as I licked the apricot juice off of my fingers, and I crashed into the pallet, asleep before I reached the floor.
Chapter 30
Midday, Wodensniht, 1712 MG
I woke up immediately needing to fill the chamber pot.
Afterwards, with a long sigh, I stretched out and looked at my borrowed armor. It had weathered the trip well, so I turned my attention to my blades. There had been little to do except care for them during the trip, and they were immaculate. My only entertainment had been sparring with Hristo and his troop each nigh
t, learning the feel of the overlong and misbalanced swords they were used to.
A little water remained in the bowl, so I splashed that on my face. I walked downstairs to find Jovanka.
She stood in the kitchen, pounding out dough. She barely paused when I arrived, shrugging her shoulder at a table where a stone on a cord sat next to a plate with a pastry on it.
“That’s the keystone and a zelnik for you.”
“Thank you.”
I flipped the keystone over my head, then picked up the pastry and bit into it. It seemed to be made of the same light flaky dough as baklava, layered with a bitter cheese, spinach, and goat spiced with sorrel. I decided I liked zelniks, which I immediately told Jovanka.
“It’s Radovan’s favorite.” She smiled as she continued to knead the dough.
As I finished the zelnik, she glanced at the hallway. “The door under the stairs leads to the garden. I’ll cook for you and I’ll put out new sheets. I’ll even mend those pesky holes knives make in tunics. What I won’t do is empty your chamberpot. Take it outside yourself and put it into the bed to the right.”
I laughed, nodded, and did so.
When I returned she was placing the loaf into a stone oven. I could feel its warmth all the way across the room.
“Jovanka, I need to watch a play at the amphitheater.”
She turned to me with a raised eyebrow for a moment. “Don’t tell me my Radovan is working for a higher class of criminal.”
I laughed. “Not at all. I just need to see the next play. Do you know when it is?”
She started laughing uproariously at that. “Me? Watch a play? Closest thing I get to a play is watching Radovan try not to say ‘sheep’s dick’ in my presence.”
I joined her laughter. “How would I find out?”
“Go up to the amphitheater and ask?”
I shrugged at that obvious response.
“They also usually have a crier in the Heartsquare yelling their plans.”
I nodded my thanks and returned to my room to prepare. Walking around Achrida with a spear would make me too noticeable, so I decided to leave it. Armor would catch the eye if I wore it as well, so I decided on one of the tunics that Era’s mother had made for me, in a patterned orange fabric decorated in long strips of woven green trim. The colors seemed garish to me but were common here.
Then I thought about the spatha. While I had my dagger in its calf sheath, I felt almost unarmed without either a sword or my saex. However, people did not wear swords routinely here.
Should I rely upon the henna and my scratchy beard, or should I be armed for emergencies? I could see arguments for either option, and I hesitated. I finally asked Jovanka, who seemed to know plenty about successful crime in Achrida.
“Oh, my. Dearie, one shouldn’t go out with a single blade. That’s just foolish.”
“I should take the sword, then?”
“No, everyone will think that’s odd, especially with that outfit.”
“Change the outfit?”
“Dearie, the tunic’s fine, no one will remark upon it. Just not with the sword.”
“Well, I only have this small knife I keep in my boot.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that was the problem.” She giggled and wiped the flour off her hands. “Wait here for a moment.”
She trotted up the stairs and returned with four sheathed knives.
“Take a look at these, dearie. See if they fit your hand well. You can borrow any.”
“Won’t Radovan mind? I certainly don’t like people handling my blades without permission.”
“Dearie, they’re mine, not his.”
“Oh.”
“So please look at them.”
“You’re sure you won’t need them?”
“I’m sure. Those are all ones I don’t use anymore. I keep them by my bed just in case.”
“Ah.”
I covered my embarrassment by examining the blades. They slid out of their sheaths smoothly, with a fine sheen of oil. None of them had a speck of rust, and they were all sharp. Two were longer—not as long as my saex but longer than many. I felt the weight of each, but none felt as comfortable as either of the blades I had left in Lezh. Nevertheless, I narrowed my choice down to the longer two blades.
I did not realize that Jovanka had left until she returned to my side. She pointed at the one with a soft leather grip.
“Take that one, it’s luckier.”
I shrugged. “Hopefully, I’ll never know.”
I unbuckled my belt and slid it through the scabbard. It was not designed to hang from the back of my belt like my saex, so it could never be where I preferred. Nevertheless, I settled the belt and scabbard where they felt most comfortable.
After I finished, she smiled. “And I have something else for you, dearie.”
“Yes?”
“Stronger on your right or left?”
“Right.”
She moved to my left arm and pushed back the long sleeve of the tunic. She buckled on a small sheath containing a short dagger.
“It’s not something to use all the time, but it never hurts to have an extra blade.”
“Thank you very much.”
“You’re going to the amphitheater?”
I nodded.
“Do you want me to send Radovan there later?”
I thought about it for a moment, but the answer was obvious. “I have no idea what is going to happen. What I do know is that the person I’m supposed to meet expects me to be alone.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell Radovan to find you but stay in the background. You won’t even know he’s there.”
“Indeed? He’s an awfully large man.”
She laughed. “That he is, but he’s been doing this sort of thing all his life.”
“I’ve no doubt.”
I turned to leave.
“Be safe, dearie. Don’t make my Radovan have to do anything silly.”
“I’ll certainly do my best.”
Chapter 31
Early Afternoon, Wodensniht, 1712 MG
Svetislav had led me to the amphitheater the only other time I had been there, so finding it ahead of time seemed like a good idea. In any case, asking about plays there definitely seemed wiser than listening to a hawker in Heartsquare, where Kapric, Zvono, or any other Imperial might see past my darker hair and beard.
I mostly remembered the route and only had to backtrack once. The amphitheater itself was empty, except for an old man sweeping the stage. If there were other preparations for tonight, they were happening in some of the various buildings attached to the back.
“Milord, when’s the next play?”
He continued sweeping. I moved closer and shouted a little louder. This time he heard me.
“Eh, what? Next play?”
“Yes, when is it.”
“Oh, it’s the solstice today, eh?”
“Yes.”
I waited, but he continued sweeping.
“Um, it’s the solstice today. What are you showing?”
He looked up irritably. “Eh? What are we showing?”
“Yes.”
“What we show every solstice.”
“But you are showing something?”
“Eh? Of course. It’s the solstice.”
He kept sweeping.
Fortunately, I cared less the name of play than whether or not something was being shown, so I let him shuffle dirt around. I did chuckle at myself for forgetting Wodensniht.
I had no idea when the show would start, but I had no other place to be so I decided I would think like Sebastijan. As I walked up out of the amphitheater I noted all of the exits. I walked the long way around so I could determine at least two ways to leave the area plus the one Svetislav had showed me.
I then found the nearest street vendor and ate something that probably included meat, though there was no way to be sure, stuffed inside something made out of flour. It tasted no better than it looked, but I needed food so I ate
it.
I sighed. Two or three miles away from me Zoe was feeding people something delicious.
I spent the rest of the afternoon praying. Sort of. Near the amphitheater was a shrine to the Mousai, three godlings prayed to and revered by artists, poets, and actors.
The chapel led into the hillside and was cunningly decorated with majestic mosaics. The walls showed each of the Mousai alongside people painting, scribing, acting, reading, dancing, playing musical instruments, and singing.
As I entered, a priestess who, given the stains on her hands, apparently served her godling as a painter, asked if she could assist me. I told her that the solstice always made me feel closer to the gods and I always spent that day at a different shrine.
She smiled happily at the lie and let me be.
Throughout the afternoon I admired the artistry as a variety of scops serenaded the chapel. I had never heard any of the songs, but they were performed skillfully.
The hours crept by. Bedarth had spent years trying to teach me patience, but I had always been too angry to learn any of those lessons. The lovely surroundings eased, but did not eliminate, my nervous anticipation.
After a while, I caught the priestess as she strolled by.
“They’re showing a play at the amphitheater tonight?”
“Oh, of course. It’s the solstice.”
“What are they showing?”
She looked at me like my mind was as sharp as crushed limestone from the mountains.
“I’m new to Achrida.”
“Oh. Well, they always show the same play, The Courting of Aegiala.”
“I’ve never heard of it. What is it about, and why do they show it every year on the solstice?”
“Hmmm. How do I tell you the story without spoiling the play?”
She paused for a moment.
“You know the story of Aegiala, of course.”
I shook my head and did not quite lie to her. “The Empire is large. I’m from a long way away.”
She smiled politely. “It’s the story of the children of the sun. The daughter, Aegiala, helped her brother try to fly to her father, though they had been foreordained to fail. In their arrogance, they tried anyway and the greater gods punished them.”
