Passages

by Olan Thorensen

  “Sorry, Maghen, I thought we’d have a little time in better conditions before getting on another ship.”

  She smiled wanly and put a hand on his arm. “As long as we’re safe, I’ll settle for that. At least, it’s under a roof. You and Gulgit go find us a ship, and I’ll make this place a little more livable. I can get Yusup and Tazeeb to help move things around. One question, though. What about food, water, and voiding?”

  Mark relayed the question to Gulgit, who left to check with Haldakit. When he returned, his expression combined embarrassment and humor.

  “Water and food will be brought here twice a day by servants. As for voiding, the custom is it’s always done outside of the house. Something about maintaining cleanliness where you live. Next to the stable is a door with a symbol that looks like a leaf carved on it. It leads to an open area with no roof and the ground covered in sand and straw. This area is used by servants and slaves. You shit or piss anywhere you want, which I figure means where no one has preceded you recently. Buckets of sand and ash should be full for cleaning yourself afterward. Haldakit says this is common in the cities. In the country villages, people just do it right outside where they live.”

  Mark relayed the information to Maghen. She took it without comment, then held Alys’s hand to lead her to the “facilities.”

  “Let’s go,” Mark said to Gulgit, “and at least see what the harbor area is like.”

  They returned to the courtyard. Haldakit was sitting under the pergola, talking to Zardoz. The second cousin’s sour expression on seeing his two guests was followed by comments to Haldakit that elicited a shrug. Their host went inside the ornate section of the structure where Mark assumed the Zardoz family lived.

  The three men walked down the narrow street, weaving among people who moved in both directions. They passed stands with men and women selling food, clothing, and tools; horses ridden or being led; a small flock of goat-like mammals herded by a teenage boy; carts pulled by men or horses; and everywhere the smells of human and animal bodies, food aromas strange and familiar, and noise that assaulted the ears.

  After two blocks, they came to an intersection and could see the harbor to the right. Another two blocks and they passed warehouses lining the harbor front.

  “Haldakit says we’re standing near one end of the mooring area. He also says there’s no official listing of what ships are here, where they’re from, what they brought in their cargo, or what they’re interested in sailing away with. If we want that information, we’ll have to pay one of several men we’ll see wearing yellow pants. I asked, but he doesn’t know what the yellow stands for. The men are called bursapahts, whatever that means in Sulako. Their profession is to know as much as possible about every ship. I suggest we make one trip down the length of the harbor to get familiar with everything and watch for these bursapahts. On the way back, we can decide whether to check with one or more of them for information.”

  As they walked, Mark took in the mélange of peoples. Even though Sulakoans predominated, from his time in Kaledon and Brawsea he could occasionally recognize people wearing attire from Fuomon, several Harrasedics, some from Novaryn, people whose origin he couldn’t guess, and three men with the belts and caps worn by most Frangel sailors. He stopped Gulgit and Haldakit to wait, while he edged in behind the three men.

  Frangelese! he thought. They’re speaking Frangelese.

  He quickly squelched the urge to say something, even if only to ask for some nonsensical directions or where they were from. For months, the only conversations he’d had were in Frangelese with Maghen and in Suvalu with Gulgit. English was becoming only a memory, but he hadn’t realized the sense of loneliness he’d felt when limited to conversing with so few people.

  “Frangelese,” he explained to Gulgit. “I thought I recognized some of their dress. It was nice to hear a few familiar words, even if only listening to three sailors tell each other the Sulakoans had disgusting habits.”

  They started walking again, only to stop a few steps later as a large wagon drawn by oxen and piled high with burlap-like bags established its own right of way. The wagon came from a three-masted ship with a crew whose dress he didn’t recognize. A red flag with crossed swords flew from the main mast. Gulgit anticipated Mark’s question.

  “Best we don’t linger here. That’s a Narthani ship, according to the flag. I don’t know what the cargo was. It must be something in high demand, or else they have connections to high-ranking Sulakoans. Haldakit says they don’t allow many Narthani ships to dock, but this is the only Sulako port where any trade with Narthon is allowed. We’ll steer clear of any inquiries about this one.”

  Mark had to steel himself not to keep looking over his shoulder as they continued. The next ship was another three-master but with a different design and flying the Fuomon flag.

  “Yes,” said Gulgit. “Odd to see them moored next to each other—two ships from peoples who have been fighting for over a century. I wonder if the berths were coincidental, or someone assigned them on purpose for some reason.”

  Sulakoans jostled them, along with men dressed as sailors or merchants from other realms, some of whom Gulgit recognized and others he didn’t.

  “See the crew of that two-masted ship? I think they’re from the Iraquinik Confederation. Haldakit says you rarely see one here at Iskadon. Most of the trade between Sulako and the various Iraquinik states is through Bandapara, the old capital, or Pilaminta, another port city, this one in western Sulako.”

  They passed what looked to Mark like a large Chinese junk. None of the three of them recognized the dress of the crew or the flag the ship flew. Then they came to a space with no ship before seeing a ship with one mast broken in half and the prow caved in. A crane on wooden wheels had been rolled alongside, and men were cutting away at the damaged hull.

  “Probably got caught in a storm,” said Gulgit. “Looks like a Sulakoan ship. They might have hit something head-on.”

  Then, another gap and one more three-masted ship, this one also Sulakoan. After that, the ship sizes decreased to a couple with two masts and a dozen or so smaller ships, most with a single mast.

  “For the local coastal trade,” said Gulgit. “There are smaller ports both in this part of Sulako and across the gulf on the western shore of Rustal, although most of the Rustal trade died away after the Narthani invasion. I don’t think we want to investigate any of these. None of them would get you much farther west than partway to Bandapara. Let’s turn back and find one of the bursapahts. Haldakit says we should first exchange some of the coin you’re carrying for Sulakoan ones. It’ll draw less attention because nobody may have ever seen Frangelese coins.”

  Their guide led them to an open-air stall manned by a white-haired individual. He sat at a table with several small scales and bottles of liquids. Three scarred, armed men stood on both sides of the stall and in front. Two iron chests flanked the old man.

  “Five of your large gold coins should suffice for today,” said Gulgit. “The old man probably knows Suvalu, so try it on him. If that doesn’t work, Haldakit can translate. I suggest not saying where you got the coins. Just make up some story if he asks.”

  When Mark walked up to the stall, the large man in front stopped him with a hand to his chest. The man’s other hand was on the hilt of a large knife. The two flanking men tensed and watched Mark closely. Words in Sulakoan and a gesture to the pistol in Mark’s belt were all the translation needed. He turned back to Gulgit and gave him the pistol and his knife, then walked back for a cursory pat-down and a gesture to proceed.

  “I have some gold coins I’d like to exchange for Sulakoan coins,” he said in Suvalu.

  A flicker of interest passed over the old man’s eyes. “Suvalu? And with an eastern accent, maybe from Drilmar. Where are you from?”

  Mark’s surprise almost made him blurt out, “Frangel.” He hadn’t expected his origin to be so identifiable. He definitely didn’t want to identify himself as Frangelese, but he had to
say something.

  “Novaryn,” he replied, figuring the smallest of the Drilmar nations was the most mercantile and most likely to have traders this far from home. “I have some foreign coin I’d like to exchange for Sulakoan ones.

  “Let’s see them.”

  Mark reached into an inside pocket of his coat and pulled out five coins from the leather bag. He laid them on the table in front of the man, who glanced at them and raised an eyebrow.

  “Frangelese? You said you’re from Novaryn.”

  Shit, thought Mark.

  “Lots of trade between Novaryn and Frangel, and we get coin from all over the eastern realms.”

  The man shrugged and picked up the five coins. One at a time, he bit an edge.

  Huh? thought Mark. I thought biting on gold coins to leave an indentation and confirm gold was only one of those movie myths. You learn something new every day.

  “All right, they’re gold and definitely Frangelese. I can taste the difference from Novaryn gold. I’ll check the purity.”

  He turned in his chair and placed one of the coins on a decorated ceramic plate. It reminded Mark of a set of trivets his grandmother had used. He then put minute drops of two different liquids on the upward face of the coin and leaned close to look at them.

  “Yes. Frangelese coins are among the most consistent. I just wish all coins were so dependable. I’ll give you a hundred and forty dinats for each of the five coins. Would you want it all in gold or a mix of gold and silver?”

  Mark turned to Gulgit and Haldakit. The two men briefly conferred, then Gulgit nodded affirmation to Mark and said, “Silver.”

  “That’s fine, and I’ll take it in silver,” Mark said. He collected his seven hundred dinats in large silver coins.

  “Let’s go find out about ships,” said Mark.

  They stopped at the first bursapaht they came to, a scrawny middle-thirties man with a bright red shirt.

  I guess the yellow pants aren’t enough for this guy, Mark thought. He wants to make sure he’s noticed.

  Gulgit did the talking. “We’re looking for information on ships and where they’re planning to sail next.”

  “Cost you fifty dinats to know about all the ships currently docked.”

  Mark handed over five of the silver coins.

  “All right, what information are you after?”

  “A ship headed at least to Bandapara, farther if possible. One that will take passengers.”

  “None. Cost you another fifty to know about ships anchored offshore and waiting for a berth.”

  Mark didn’t want to dicker for each piece of information. “How about two hundred dinats for keeping us informed of all ships until we find one we can get passage on?” he asked. “Then, the day we leave, there’ll be another two hundred dinats.”

  “Four hundred each, before and when you leave,” the old man said.

  “Let’s go,” said Mark to Gulgit. “There are other bursapahts.”

  “Well, since you look like strangers to Iskadon, and since I’m naturally wanting to help, I’m willing to make it three hundred and fifty each.”

  “Two-fifty, and that’s my last word,” said Mark.

  “What! Here I’m trying to give you a break, and you want to rob me!”

  Mark turned and started walking. Gulgit and Haldakit followed a step behind.

  “Wait! Wait! All right. You’re killing me, but two-fifty each it is.”

  Mark returned to the bursapaht and counted out twenty-five of the coins.

  “So, what about the ships waiting to dock? I need to go west, eventually farther than Bandapara.”

  “Two possibilities. A Novaryn ship bringing in cloth from Novaryn and destrex hides from Frangel.”

  Mark almost choked. Destrex hides! I wonder if any of them are the ones I sold in Landylbury?

  “The captain intends to sell his entire cargo here at Iskadon, but if he can’t get the prices he wants, especially for the destrex hides, he’ll go on to Bandapara or farther west until he gets his price. I don’t have the number of destrex hides he’s got, but it must be a major shipment for him to come this far west and avoid the Narthani and pirates. Word is the bidding will start high because we haven’t had a good destrex shipment in several years.

  “Then there’s a coastal freighter based in Bandapara. Nothing special about the cargo—the usual trade within Sulako. This particular ship only makes the Bandapara/Iskadon route, so it wouldn’t get you farther than Bandapara. For the other ship, the one from Novaryn, it all depends on if the captain sells the entire destrex cargo here, at Bandapara, or even goes on to Landolin or the Iraquiniks. Frankly, I wouldn’t count on either of those.”

  The bursapaht didn’t need to be a sterling judge of human emotion to catch Mark’s disappointment.

  “Not to worry, unless there’s a critical time factor in your finding a ship. There are more coming and going almost daily. It’s just a matter of time before a ship docks that you can use. Of course, I can’t predict when that will be, so you should be patient.

  “This is my spot, so you can find me here almost every day. I leave it up to you if you want to check every day or not. My name is Tymaz Lasbani. If for some reason I’m not here and you need to find me, ask at the moneychanger just north of here—an older man who looks sour all the time. He’s my uncle and will know where I am.”

  “He’s right, Mark,” said Gulgit, as they walked back to Haldakit’s relative’s house, “it would have been extraordinarily fortunate to find a ship on your first day here. As Lasbani said, there’ll be more ships.”

  CHAPTER 36

  THE SONG

  They returned to Lasbani at noon the next day. No new candidate ships had arrived, but the Novaryn vessel was just being pulled into a berth by squat rowed craft serving as tugs.

  “They’ll start selling as soon as they’re tied off and gangplanks are fastened,” said Lasbani. “We should know tomorrow how the selling is going.”

  Gulgit was about to offer Mark more encouragement when they left the bursapaht, but Mark stopped him.

  “Don’t worry, Gulgit. I’ve calmed down since yesterday, especially since talking with Maghen. I’m worried about her and Alys, and I just want to get where we’re going before something happens I can’t prevent. In many ways she’s been more accepting of what’s happened to us than I have, thank the gods.

  “Anyway, I promised her that if nothing was going to happen today, I’d come back for her and Alys and take them around to the harbor area. Then Maghen can visit whatever shops she finds interesting. We can’t buy much because we still have so far to go, but I hope to find some little thing for her and maybe something for Alys. We lost most of the few toys we started off with.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” asked Gulgit.

  Mark hesitated. The Rustalian had been more helpful than Mark could thank him for. Thus, he was tempted to say the family would be all right for a few hours out while away from Gulgit’s chaperoning. He discarded the temptation. Maghen was likely to be distracted, and having Gulgit along would provide a third set of eyes to watch Alys, in addition to helping Mark with Suvalu.

  Maghen had been to Nurburt—a city of 20,000—many times but had never visited the larger cities in Frangel. They had planned on her coming along on one of his trips to Landylbury to sell destrex hides, but something had interfered each time: Maghen caring for an ailing mother, her pregnancy with Alys, or other reasons to put off the trip for “another time.” After fleeing, they had avoided larger towns—trying to be unobtrusive was the objective. Thus, Iskadon would be the largest city Maghen had ever visited, even if her opportunity to experience it was limited to near the harbor area. Mark expected her to be nervous at first, then enthralled at the diversity of so many people and the level of energy, so different from rural Frangel. After all they’d been through, he wanted to do something for her.

  “Yes, Gulgit, I would appreciate that. At least, today. We may have to be here longer t
han I want, but I think we’ll become accustomed to this area soon enough to go without you in the future.”

  They returned to Zardoz’s house to find Maghen and Alys dressed for walking and waiting in front of the stable.

  “You didn’t find a ship?” she asked.

  “Not today, but we’ve arranged for a man who keeps information on all ships to meet with us every day. I told you it wasn’t likely we’d find a ship the first day, but one can always hope. Having said that, I notice you and Alys are ready for that walk I promised if nothing developed. Tell me whether I’m mistaken, but you don’t seem all that sorry we didn’t find a ship.”

  She put a hand to her mouth, laughed, and blushed slightly before answering.

  “It must sound terrible and strange, but part of me was hoping there’d be no ship today. After all the travel and the chance to see Iskadon, I find myself so looking forward to just experiencing something new. I’m tired of feeling we’re on the edge of danger every second.”

  He grabbed her in a tight embrace and swung her around, both of them laughing—he at the chance to bring her some pleasure after the strenuous, stressful months and her in relief that he didn’t consider her deranged.

  “Gulgit will join us. We’ll find things to eat in the food stalls scattered all around the harbor area, so you can visit shops until you’re tired. Well . . . maybe that’s until Alys is tired. Let’s go.”

  For the first half hour, Alys was carried, but she looked around, her little head swiveling as if trying to take in everything new all at once. Then, when she acquiesced to walking, she clung to her mother’s side, both hands full of skirt. Only when they stopped at a stand selling something similar to grapes and she stuffed herself full did she relax and start venturing afield. Even then, she never strayed more than a few feet from one parent. This was fortunate because in some sections of the harbor, they would have lost sight of her within twenty feet in the milling crowds.