“I would not believe that one person would travel so far, and do so much, for friendship,” Jade said to Silas next, as she hugged him as well. “You’re the best person we could’ve relied on. The mirrors knew what they were doing when they let us meet one another.” She looked at Mata with a momentary glance of uncertainty, then kissed Silas robustly on the lips, and stepped back, her eyes downcast.
“You have been a hero in my eyes, and I hope we’ll have a chance to acknowledge your heroism publicly someday,” the princess told Silas as well. She bowed her head to him, briefly took Mata’s hand in hers, then stepped back to the doorway.
“We can find our own way out, finally,” Gwen said. “You’re a good fighter,” she nodded to Silas. “Good luck,” she tossed the words to Mata as the bodyguard was the last of the three visitors to step out the door and leave the apartment.
Silas and Mata watched them leave, then looked at one another. The only thing left for them to do was to find a ride on a ship leaving the island.
Chapter 12
Two days later, Silas found a ship at the docks that was anxious to depart for Avaleen after the long storm-caused delay. The officers were desperate to have an additional crew member and allowed Mata to ship on the freighter at no charge, riding as Silas’s sister and sharing a small cabin with him.
If the two had not grown so accustomed to one another in their apartment exile, they might have found the close quarters of the tiny compartment to be uncomfortable, but they adjusted quickly.
Silas found that his duties were similar to the work he had done on the freighter trip that had brought him to Amenozume, with the extra duty of keeping a close eye on Mata to discourage unwanted attentions from the other members of the crew. A long stare from his strangely-colored eyes proved to be unnerving enough to dissuade most of the crew, and a few early swordsmanship practices with the officers that demonstrated his prowess with the blade was further incentive to the other men on the ship to leave the girl alone.
Once the ship was bound for the northern port of Avaleen, the stiff winds carried it at a formidable speed, with few adjustments needed to the sails during the day. Silas spent part of the time giving Mata the same early lessons in handling a blade that Ruten had given him during his time in the trading caravan. There were few objections from the other men on the ship, who enjoyed watching Mata’s lithe figure in action during the practices on the deck.
After just a few days, the ship arrived at the port of Avaleen, a city Silas had briefly visited before. Once the ship was unloaded, the two passengers departed, having paid nothing for the journey, nor been paid for their work on the ship.
“I have to find a trader and deliver the message Prima gave me,” Silas told Mata.
“And then what are you going to do? What am I going to do, Silas?” the girl asked. “I know I want to sleep in a real bed after having that hammock on the ship, but I don’t know what to do after that,” she fretted.
Silas had no answer. He’d spent hours on the ship wondering what advice to give, but had no answers. “We’ll ask people,” he offered vaguely. “It might be best to leave Avaleen anyway and head elsewhere; I believe Ivaric will invade this land one day soon.” He was surprised that such an invasion hadn’t been carried out already, given the length of time since he had seen the Ivaric forces picking their armaments from the warehouse in the dictator’s capital city of Eric.
Silas gave Mata the money they had, and let her enter an inn to reserve a room for the pair of them, while he stayed outside and kept his face down, limiting the number of people who would see and remember his colorful eyes. Afterwards, they went up to their room, when Mata threw herself on the bed and spread her limbs wide in a joyful celebration of having a comfortable mattress once again.
“Oh Silas, I feel free!” she exclaimed. Her eyes were closed, and her face shone with exuberant joy. She looked beautiful and joyful, and he wondered why he hadn’t enjoyed kissing her. Would it be fair to try again, he wondered?
Mata wanted to take a bath. She ordered delivery of a tub and hot water, while Silas left to walk around the city, to revisit the places he had seen when he had been there before, as well as to find information about where he could find the location of a trader named Burr, the name that Prima had written on the wrapping of the envelope that Silas had carried to deliver for the caravan leader. He left behind his mirror, knowing that Mata would want to tell Jade they had arrived on the mainland safely, if it was possible to catch the sister between her duties at court.
He went browsing among the docks, down in the fishing boat portion of the harbor, looking for Gaspar, Greymont, and Remon, who had helped him escape from Ivaric guards by taking him out to sea, but the fishermen’s boat was out on the water, seeking to bring in a fresh catch.
He considered strolling out to New Fields to visit the estate of Greywold the nobleman, where his companion from the caravan, the lovely Sareen, had gone to live. He wouldn’t be particularly welcome there, he suspected. And the nobility wouldn’t be likely to know anything about where an average trader like Burr would be located.
But seeing Sareen would be a reminder of a simpler time, when he had considered the caravan to be a safe home, and he had simply traveled the land as part of the group, letting Prima make the decisions about where they went, and what they did.
He started walking toward the northern suburb, and several minutes later, arrived at the familiar gate where he had last seen Sareen. The guard at the gate accepted his message to see Sareen, and sent it to the house, as Silas stood idly at the gate and waited. He thought about the still unresolved feelings he had for Sareen; he’d never been seen by the girl as a possible suitor, he knew, though he’d had chances to put himself forward. He’d not realized they were opportunities at the time, or he’d not known how to charm the girl who he’d practiced sword work with twice daily. Had Ruten been trying to throw the two of them together, Silas asked himself.
“Silas, is it really you? Is the caravan back in town?” he was startled from his musings by Sareen’s voice, speaking to him from the entry gate.
He turned and looked at her. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her looks had benefited from staying at the wealthy estate – her skin appeared flawless, and her hair was intricately braided, while the gown she wore was both demure and yet slightly suggestive.
“Hi Sareen,” his dry throat rasped out the words. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s so good to see you too,” she replied. She advanced a step and raised her hand to him. He was supposed to take it, he realized. But did he need to kiss it, his mind questioned what to do next as he raised his own hand and touched hers, then he did bend and lightly press his lips against it.
He stood up straight, his eyes examining Sareen to see if he had responded correctly to her gesture, and he saw an amused smile.
“You look beautiful,” the words blurted from his mouth.
“Thank you,” she said. “You look like you’ve grown up quite a bit. You’re more like a man than a boy now.”
“No,” he finally answered the question. “The caravan’s not back in town. I left it a few weeks ago. They didn’t kick me out,” he hastily added. “I just wanted to go somewhere else.”
“And now you’re back here in Avaleen,” Sareen spoke after a long, silent, awkward pause.
“Tell me how you’re doing,” Silas didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to tell Sareen that he had traveled so far to help rescue a different girl, one who was with him at an inn in Avaleen. It was better to let Sareen speak about herself.
“I’m having a wonderful time. Greymont’s sister Abbae is very sweet, and very talented. She’s teaching me to play two of her musical instruments, and we sing together, and we go horseback riding together. And Greymont’s friends among the nobility and the high gentry come to visit so often!” Sareen was anxious to describe how wonderful her life had become.
“Do you go back to Shaish’s
temple often?” Silas asked, feeling a desire to deflate the girl’s high spirits; he was dissatisfied with the pleasure she took in life since she had drifted away from him.
The temple was a reminder of her last moments as an ordinary carnival worker, when she and Silas had fled from robbers, and been instructed by the voice of the goddess Shaish that Silas was himself a special project of Krusima.
A shadow of annoyance flickered upon Sareen’s brow, but within a moment she had smoothed her forehead. “Greymont’s family is partial to the worship of Growelf,” Sareen mentioned the god of fire. “The ceremonial bonfires are spectacular, especially at night, when we stand out in the estate in the dark and wrap ourselves in blankets as we sing hymns. Then we go for walks in the gardens and,” she paused, “contemplate.” A wicked smile pursed her lips.
Silas felt defeated. Sareen was pleased with her new life, and he would not be able to dissuade her from feeling satisfied. She was not going to admit longing to return to the old ways of wandering freely across the continent – nor was she going to suddenly confess some deeply hidden affection for him. It was time for him to acknowledge the facts, and move on.
“I’m glad you’re doing so well. I need to get back to Mata,” he said.
“Oh, who’s that?” Sareen asked.
He would try to make his own situation sound enviable as well. “She’s a girl from Amenozume. We sailed to Avaleen together; she’s in our room taking a hot bath, you know, after being on the ship for a few days,” he explained in part, offering up a portion of the truth. He was satisfied to see a hint of an annoyed furrowing of Sareen’s eyebrows.
“Be well,” he told her, and paused, waiting to see if she would offer her hand once more, but there was no motion or gesture.
“Be well too, Silas. Please come visit again if you’re in the city someday,” Sareen stepped back into the drive, and raised her hand in a wave.
Silas turned and strode away. The picture of Sareen lingered in his mind over the course of his walk all the way back to the inn. He stopped at the door, then turned and went to a market to get food – fresh food. He needed to calm down and distract himself from Sareen before he walked in to see Mata, he told himself. And besides, he realized, he truly was hungry – especially hungry for food that was fresher than anything the ship had served over the past several days.
He soon had an armful of fruits, and skewers of freshly grilled meats, which he carried back to the inn, and delighted Mata with upon his entry to their room.
“How did you know I wanted these?” she asked as her teeth sunk into an apple, while she held a warm skewer in her free hand.
She looked beautiful to Silas, in a whole new way, with her hair freshly washed. Why, he wondered, hadn’t he enjoyed his kiss with the girl?
Why was he suddenly so obsessed with women, he asked himself a moment later? He had just spent an entire afternoon without asking a single question to try to locate Burr, the trader he needed to find, and he had no time to waste. He needed to find Burr, deliver his message, and then get himself and Mata away from Avaleen and the impending invasion he expected to strike the nation.
“I need to go ask more questions about the trader I’m looking for,” Silas announced to Mata.
“You didn’t find any answers so far?” she asked sympathetically. “Would you like for me to come with you?” she asked.
“No, I think I can do this better if you don’t distract me,” Silas answered, then blushed, as he realized he had spoken the truth, not given the white lie he had intended. “I mean distract the people I talk to. You know – because you’re so pretty. They’ll think you’re pretty, and be distracted. I’m not distracted by your looks.” He paused and breathed deeply.
Mata was looking at him with cocked eyebrows.
“Are you alright? Did something happen? You seem,” she pursed her lips as she considered what words might suffice.
“It’s nothing,” Silas wished he could turn invisible, instead of any other ability he’d been given. He wanted to put the conversation behind him. “Why don’t you come with me? It’ll be good for you to get out and walk around,” he turned quickly to the door and opened it, then motioned for Mata to join him.
“Is everything okay Silas?” Mata asked again when they were back out on the street.
“Yes, it’s fine. Let’s just find some answers,” he replied, and led her to the longshoremen’s office, where the unlicensed dockworkers found work.
Several of the men there had heard of Burr the trader, and gave directions to his office.
Minutes later, at the office, the two migrants from Amenozume learned that Burr had left the port to go inland to the capital city, where he had a second office.
“It’s about a half day’s ride into the capital,” the office manager advised.
Satisfied with the information, Silas and Mata silently began to walk back towards their inn. The sun was starting to set over the harbor in the west, and the sky began to darken.
“Would you like a drink at the tavern?” Mata asked. “You seem like you might need one.”
Silas rolled his eyes, then shrugged. “Sure, why not?” he asked, and they stopped in the next tavern they saw.
“Try some wine,” Mata suggested, “make it two,” she told a woman who stopped at their table to take their order.
Silas looked around; the crowd was far from genteel, but not threatening in any way either.
Silas tasted the wine when his cup arrived. It was faintly sour, nothing like what he had expected.
“Drink it fast, and it won’t be so bad,” Mata hid a giggle behind her hand as she watched Silas’s face twist into an expression of dismay.
He did as suggested, and did it again a few minutes later when a second round of cups were ordered. He sat back then, next to Mata, feeling faintly warm and fuzzy-brained. He contemplated the people around them at the other tables in the tavern, which was filling up.
“Now, will you tell me what bothered you this afternoon? Was it my bath? Did I spend too much money?” Mata asked earnestly, as she sipped her cup of wine.
“No, it wasn’t you at all; gosh no, by all the gods,” Silas took one of Mata’s hands in his, worried that he had implied some criticism of the pretty young woman.
“It was someone else,” he admitted. “I went to see a girl who used to be in the caravan with me; she lives here now. She wasn’t very excited to see me,” he tried to explain.
A third cup of wine arrived for him. He sipped it, and discovered that it no longer tasted so sour; the tavern had switched to a better bottle of the wine, and so he sipped again.
“You were rejected by your old lover? I’m sorry Silas,” Mata said sympathetically, her hand clasping his and her fingers tracing shapes on his just as his fingers were stroking her palm.
“A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t waste time with a boy like this,” a deep voice broke into their conversation as the two travelers looked at one another. A shadow blocked the light from the closest lantern. Silas looked up to see a pair of large, bearded men looming above the table.
“Come over here and tell us what you think a real man is like,” one of the pair reached down to put his hand on Mata’s arm to pull her away.
Silas found that his hand and his knife were on the move. He leapt up to kneel on the table, spilling his wine, as he pressed his knife blade against the man’s throat.
“Take your hand off her right now. I can shave that beard after I slit your throat with this blade – it’s that sharp,” he said angrily.
The man’s eyes widened. He released Mata, then stepped quickly back out of Silas’s range, and whistled.
The interior of the tavern turned eerily silent for a long second, then movement occurred in multiple areas, as a number of patrons headed for the door, while a few other men stood and walked to join the bearded men who had harassed Mata.
“Put your knife down boy, and we’ll let you leave this place alive, mostly,” the leader of
the men said.
“You let us leave peacefully right now, and none of you will get killed,” Silas answered.
“Silas, be careful,” Mata placed a hand on his back. Her voice was strained.
A knife suddenly flew at Silas from one side of the room, but his knife pulled his hand into position faster than any eye in the room could follow, and it deflected the knife straight up, so that the blade stuck in the ceiling.
There was a silence at the inexplicable accomplishment, and then a murmur in the back of the room.
“What was that, witchcraft? Did your strange eyes do some trick?” the bearded man asked with a trace of doubt in his voice.
They thought he had strange powers, or they feared so, at least, Silas realized. There was a way to use that. He summoned his Speaker abilities, and tried to focus them to reach the fear and uneasiness within the small mob.
“I can use the great powers of the God Krusima to destroy you all,” Silas tried to convey a menace and a power that would impact the audience with more than just sound. “Fear me and leave us at once!” he commanded.
He saw the eyes of his opponents widen, and their faces paled, then several of them bolted away from the tavern, leaving only four remaining, though two of them stepped back from the confrontation.
“Go now, or you’ll regret staying,” Silas blustered. He knew that his wonderful knife would easily protect him against only two adversaries in a fight, but he wanted to avoid a fight. He didn’t want to spill blood if he could avoid it. He slid forward and stepped down onto the floor in front of the table he had knelt on.
“Mata, come with me; we’re getting out of here,” he told his friend in a low voice.
Silas turned to look at the girl. As he did, the bearded men tried to take advantage of his distraction, and charged at him.
“Stop!” Silas screamed the word at the two men, an instinctive reaction, one filled with unleashed emotion and power. He felt the word emerge from his throat with the strength of his Speaker abilities packed overwhelmingly within.
The Pearl Diver Page 10
