Quest Call_The Dowland Cases 2

by Kirk Dougal

  “And he wants to do it a third time,” I said. “But we've got a job to do before we can return to Hart's Dale.” I glanced around the area. Across the shimmering sands, a black mass rose from the ground, appearing to float above the scorching sands. In the middle, the sun's brilliance reflected off a golden dome, shining like a beacon to guide us. I nodded in its direction. “The Golden Tower of Tsamib. That's where we're headed.” I trudged forward, gesturing toward a pile of boulders a few yards away, thrusting out of the sands like giant fingers digging through the shifting dunes for the surface. “In five days, everyone remember where the exit is.”

  Chapter 31

  “I've hiked in the desert on the outside. Wrap loose cloths around your head and leave just enough space for you to see through.” Saleene was already doing what she was telling us, half of her head wrapped already. “It will help to prevent sun stroke and keep sand from blowing into your nose and mouth.” She noticed DeBrest taking off his shirt, baring his arms. “Duke, stop and leave it on. Your clothing will help to hold in some of the moisture close to your skin.” She glanced at me, my arms already bare. “Put on a cloak if you have one, Beast. Everyone, make sure to drink plenty of water as we go.”

  “What if we run out before we reach the city?” DeBrest asked.

  “Then we die.” Saleene did not wait to see what affect her words had on the duke. She was already trudging across the dune, half-sliding, half-walking.

  We followed after her, doing our best to imitate how she was dressed. The cloth around my face was stifling, but I was not about to take it off to see if it was even hotter with a bare head. With Card's help, I pulled a cloak out of my pack and put it on as we moved, shrugging the pack back into place despite almost rolling down the sands twice.

  It did not take long to catch a break on our footing. Saleene reached the bottom of the dune first, moving to our right so the boulders towered over us, actually providing shade for a brief few steps. But as we moved away from them to the left and Tsamib, the ground grew solid and a road appeared beneath our feet. There were still pockets of loose sand that threatened to clutch our feet and drag us down, but they appeared less often as we made our way closer to the city. We had arrived in Zamani at noon by the sun, but by the time it was beginning to dip deep into the west, we were approaching the city gates.

  The difference between the blinding white nothingness of the shifting desert and what we encountered as we entered Tsamib was overwhelming. Brightly colored banners stood out against the monotone buildings covered with stucco. The people decorated themselves in the same way, accenting their gray or white robes with vibrant cloths draped over a shoulder and tied around their stomach. Of course, none of the colors on the street even approached the magnificence of the Gold Tower, looming high over all from the center of Tsamib, whitewashed walls leading my eye up until I stared at the golden reflection on the dome, the last of the day's sun reflecting off.

  It was not just visual stimulation, either. Every person jingled or clanged as they moved with necklaces, bracelets, and waist draws made with many different metals, clinking against each other in their own little songs. Strange foods roasted over open pits filled the air with the odors of unknown meats and spices tickled my nose. I had visited Middle Eastern bazaars in the days when The Kindred money had been overflowing, and I could not remember one that was half as alive as what I saw in front of me.

  “It's amazing,” DeBrest said, turning back and forth in an attempt to take it all in.

  The duke jumped sideways when a man walked by with an animal on a leash. The beast stood about a foot off the ground and was mostly reptilian, scales covering its four legs and head. But it had padded paws instead of talons or claws and the rest of its body was hidden beneath a large hard shell, natural spikes stick up about a hand's width from the surface. It turned its head and a long pink tongue shot out, the split tip almost licking Saleene's leg. Her hand dropped to her dagger but before any blood was spilled, the man jerked on the leash and the pair moved off, parting the crowd in the street.

  “We'd better get rooms for the night,” Card said. “There's no telling what other kinds of animals are here, and I don't want to sleep outside with them.”

  I nodded and led the way down the street. There were no wooden signs to tell me which buildings were taverns or inns, or even store fronts. After thinking about it for a moment, I realized I had not yet seen a tree since we arrived in Zamani. Wood was probably a precious commodity here and the people had adjusted to the surroundings. The banners, which at first I had assumed were just colorful decorations, were actually signals to the locals about the businesses inside each of the buildings. Judging by the aromas drifting out of some, structures with a green banner served food. Reds appeared to be different kinds of stores while the two yellow banners I saw seemed to be attached to temples of some sort. I had no idea what the single brown banner meant, and I stopped walking as I tried to puzzle it out.

  “What's wrong?” Saleene said. “Do you see something?”

  I shook my head, still staring at the building. The mystery was solved a few seconds later when a man walked out the door beneath the brown cloth, his arm bandaged and hanging in a sling around his neck.

  “Doctor,” I said, pointing at the building. “Keep that in mind if we run into trouble later.”

  That question answered, only the blue and purple banners remained unsolved. I was thinking about which one to tackle first when Card spoke into my ear.

  “Let's get something to eat,” he said. “We can ask about a good place to sleep and maybe get some information on Oshun's tomb.”

  I grabbed hold of my curiosity and nodded. “We'll stop at the next red banner we see,” I said.

  I glanced up at the tower again and moved in that direction, easing our way toward the center of Tsamib. At the next corner, however, a red-bannered building had such an amazing smell drifting through its doors that I think I would have stopped even if Card had not suggested it. As I drew close to the opening, I noticed a much smaller cloth hanging on hooks above the door. Embroidered into the cloth was a single oddly shaped bird, its long, curved beak sticking out from its head. I ducked inside, pulling the cloth from my face.

  Tables stretched across the room but not like in the Red Boar. There were no long communal tables where commoner and royal alike sat, rubbing elbows with strangers as you ate and drank. Here, singled tables were scattered around with enough room in between that conversations could be held without needing to shout over your neighbor. That said, the quiet mumbling that had filled the room with background noise slowed and finally stopped. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon us as we stood near the door. An older man approached us, his curly black hair touching his shoulders with streaks of gray throughout.

  “Welcome to the Lonely Ibis,” he said. “Is there a problem with the accommodations, gentlemen?”

  “No, no problem,” I answered. “In fact it was the smell of your food that brought us in the door. We would like a table to eat.”

  The man stared at us, his gaze traveling up and down, lingering on our faces. After several seconds, he finally nodded his head and gestured for us to follow. He led us on a winding path through the other guests into a back area that could not be seen by everyone in the room out front.

  “Drinks and food for five,” I said as he stopped by an empty table and gestured for us to sit. He bowed and walked away.

  “Not the friendliest of local bars,” Card said, his voice held down to a whisper. Very few other patrons were this far back in the building, but the ones I could see through the opening to the main room remained hushed and continually glanced in our direction.

  “Keep your eyes open,” I said. “They keep watching us like they expect trouble.”

  “It is your turbans.”

  I turned and saw two men sitting at a table a few feet away. “Excuse me?”

  “Like you, I am also not from Zamani,” He ran a hand over his red ski
n, reminding me of Trellac. “It took me a while to learn the local customs, too. They believe a fight is ready to occur because you are still wearing you turbans inside a building. That is considered an insult to the property owner and usually means you are looking for a fight.”

  I glanced around at the rest of our group, and we all began unwinding the cloths from around our heads. Just as we were finishing, the owner returned with a tray filled with stone cups and two clay jars, one twice as large as the other. I saw a smile spread over his face when he noticed our heads were now bare. The smile lasted for about three steps before he suddenly stopped, liquid spilling out from the jugs.

  “No!” he exclaimed. “No, we do not serve their kind in the Lonely Ibis! This is not a blue!” He was staring straight at Saleene and Bree.

  “What are you accusing me of?” Saleene asked. She gripped the hilt of her dagger, but the blade was not as sharp as the words she spit out of her mouth.

  The owner realized the danger he faced, and he moved back. He was not about to change his mind, however.

  “Not in my business,” he said, although his tone had quieted. “I'll not have you sully my reputation with your ways. Go back to your blue house.”

  Saleene's face turned red, and I wondered how much longer she could hold her anger in check. For her part, Bree had somehow found a way to pull her short sword from its scabbard without anyone noticing. This situation was about to get out of hand.

  “What do you think our friends are?” Card asked.

  “They sell themselves. Why else would they have their hair like that?” The owner was still holding the tray so he nodded his head in their direction.

  I stared at Saleene and Bree, long silver hair hanging down their backs. Something tickled my memories and suddenly an image of Yemaya popped into my mind.

  “Braid you hair,” I said, my words a loud whisper. Saleene glared at me in response. “Do it now.” I hesitated for a moment. “Please.”

  She released her dagger, her hands inching back to her hair. Bree did the same, staring at the owner as she lay her sword on the table in front of her and then began forming her hair into a braid. Saleene finished first and alternated between glaring at me and the other man.

  As soon as Bree was finished, I turned to the owner. “Is that okay? We are strangers to Tsamib and we don't know all your customs.”

  A smile broke over his face, and he walked forward again, placing the tray on the table.

  “Ah, visitors to our city. Yes, yes, of course. You will have the best food in the city at the Lonely Ibis. My wife, she bosses the kitchen like she bosses me. Ha, ha!” While he was talking, the owner filled each of the glasses about a third of the way with the liquid in the smaller jar, and then filled them the rest of the way with the larger.

  “Arak,” he said, passing out the glasses, serving Saleene and Bree first. He tapped the larger jar. “Use the water to make it to your taste. I will be back with your food.” He gave a slight bow and left the room through a doorway in the rear.

  “What was that all about?” Bree asked.

  “He thought you were prostitutes,” I said. “Apparently only hookers wear their hair loose in public. Remember, Yemaya had her hair in a braid.”

  Saleene snorted and took a drink of her arak.

  “And the blue house remark,” I continued. “That tells me the buildings with blue banners must be where the prostitutes work.”

  “Maybe we should go to one of the blue houses just to make sure.” DeBrest turned red as he spoke, taking a drink to hide his face. He coughed up some of the milky liquid. “Tastes like licorice.”

  “Ha! Yes, I remember the days when I was young and all I wanted to do was visit the houses with the blue banners.” The man at the nearby table laughed, and his friend joined in. “Might I suggest The Lost Oasis? It is a short walk away and they have something for all tastes.” He bowed his head in the direction of Saleene and Bree.

  “Maybe later,” I said. “How did you come to be in Tsamib?”

  The man turned in his chair to better face our table. “About a day's ride to the east, you will find the shores of the Windless Sea and the port of Oti. My family has been trading with Zamani for many generations. When I was still a boy, I served on my uncle's ship. Now I captain my own, the Tern. It seems I spend as much time here as I do in the Sand Sea.” He bobbed his head. “My name is Grol, and this is my first mate, Dwelben, but everyone calls him Stitch.” The other man smiled and turned his head, revealing a scar on his cheek that looked like his skin had been sewn back together in a poor patch job after a fight.

  I introduced myself and the others before I returned to my questions. “So, if I was correct about the blue banners, does that mean the buildings with purple banners are inns?”

  Grol nodded. “Yes, that's right. I can recommend several but the Lamb and the Lion is down the street and as good as any.”

  Card cleared his throat. “We've gotten off on the wrong foot already in Tsamib. Is there anything else we should know about to keep from drawing trouble to us?”

  “There are many customs in Zamani,” Grol said with a shrug. “But the thing to remember most is that honor is key to the lives of these people. Steal a man's food, take him in a deal—these slights are small. But injure someone's honor, man or woman, and if you're lucky, you'll face a swift fight to the death.”

  “What if you're unlucky?” DeBrest asked.

  Grol stood and Stitch did the same.

  “Prison,” the man said. “I wouldn't send my worst enemy to the hellholes they call prisons here. If you run into any problems,” he glanced at DeBrest, “or you just need a companion to visit certain houses in Tsamib, I am staying near the warehouses on the north side of town. Anyone there will know where I am. May the wind fill your sails.” He bowed and turned to leave.

  “One more thing, Grol,” I said, watching as the owner and two women walked out of the rear door bearing trays filled with roasted meat, cheeses, and breads. I lowered my voice. “Have you ever heard the name Oshun?”

  Grol stared at me for a moment. “Yes, everyone in Zamani knows her name. She is one of the most famous people who has ever lived here. But she died many years ago.”

  I nodded. “I'm a Searcher and I've been sent to learn more about her and her death.” I figured a little truth mixed in with a lie would serve us the best. “Can you tell me where to find her tomb?”

  Stitch laughed but Grol silenced him with a glance.

  “That will be the easiest thing in the world for you to find in Tsamib,” Grol said. “Her tomb is the great monument in the center of town, the center of all the local religion, the Golden Tower.”

  Chapter 32

  We ate in silence, partly because we were all so hungry and partly because the meaning of Grol's final statement sat heavy in our thoughts.

  “Noon in four and a half days,” Card said. “That's not a lot of time.”

  DeBrest belched in reply, the arak apparently making a big impression on him.

  The servers had removed our plates and what little food had remained before leaving us alone in the side room. Now was the time for us to devise a plan to steal Oshun's heart and get back to Dinas Farwolaeth.

  “I think we wait until the very last minute until we make our move on the tomb,” I said. “Gives less chance of being caught after it’s done. We grab it and head straight for the meeting point with Yemaya.”

  “We'd be putting a lot of faith into her opening up the disc again,” Card said.

  “I'm not worried about her leaving us here,” Saleene said, her forehead a series of furrows. “But she's definitely not telling us everything. I think there's a lot more behind her whole story with wanting her sister's heart.” Bree nodded her head in agreement.

  “She said it was to honor her.” I shrugged but my answer sounded weak to me as well.

  “How much more could Yemaya do for Oshun?” Card asked. “I mean, Grol said she's entombed in the Golden Tower. It
sounds like she's already being treated with respect.”

  “We don' e'en know what it looks like.” DeBrest slurred his words. “How we gonna steal her heart if we don' know wha' the tomb looks like.” He took another gulp of arak, some dribbling down through the blond wisps of a beard on his chin.

  Saleene rolled her eyes. “I hate to say it, but he's right. We can't make any plans until we know what we're up against.”

  “Le's go now.” DeBrest started to stand, teetered for a moment about halfway up, and plopped back onto the bench with a grunt.

  “It's too dark to see anything tonight,” I said. “Besides, we don't know what the city streets are like later in the evening. I'd feel better if we were all inside after dark, but the duke and Saleene are correct. We need more information. Not just about the Golden Tower, but also what we can find out about Oshun and Yemaya. There's more going on there than can be explained by sisterly love. In the morning, we will split into two groups. I'll go with one and see if there's a temple to Dziewona here. As a Searcher, they should answer any of my questions without it raising an alarm. The other can visit the tomb and see what we need to do there. Any questions?”

  Several seconds of silence passed.

  “What about tonight?” Saleene asked.

  “Is till early,” DeBrest said. “Le's get our buddy, Grol, and go visit his friends.”

  I shook my head, a thin smile spreading over my lips. He was starting to remind me of some of my frat brothers from my college days.

  “I think you're right, Duke,” I said, standing up and gesturing to Card to get on the other side of the young man. “I think we should visit Grol's friends at the Lion and the Lamb and find a nice soft bed for you.”

  *****

  The morning was still a kaleidoscope of pinks and oranges and already the heat was making the sands shimmer in the distance. I sat in the corner of the small meeting room of the Lion and the Lamb and waited for the others as the sun continued to rise higher in the sky. In front of me was what amounted to the local coffee, although it was thick and strong enough to make an espresso taste watered down. I also had some triangled pitas with hummus and jellied fruits stirred into yogurt. I had traveled through the Middle East in my younger days, and I had to give the programmers for Quest Call a lot of credit. If this part of the game was supposed to reflect that lifestyle, at least they had gotten the food right.