The Gathering Storm - Elsewhere, Book 1
Chapter 10

The following morning the two branches of the venture separated. The larger group continued north towards the Daraeyi Sea while those travelling towards Lake Lomoohr and the seeress headed east, following the river they had crossed the previous day as it skirted the foothills of the Misted Rocks of Even’s Doom. Those high, bleak peaks towered far above them in the distance, jagged and ominous and wreathed around their midsections in a heavy fog.

Nula had given the quartermaster an extra bottle of the tonic for Private Cooper and instructions to give it to Roween if she ran out, or use it himself if it became obvious that Roween wasn’t following her advice. Sergeant Smith was in charge of keeping Harson in check during the day, ensuring that his squad marched as far from the supply wagons as possible. Robyn and Hannelore were taking care of Roween under Quartermaster Fisher’s supervision, keeping her spirits up and occupying her attention. Suggestions that she should spend more time with her husband were countered with perfectly reasonable sounding excuses about his marching and training schedule, latrine digging duty, her own responsibilities in the kitchen tents, resting for the baby’s sake and so forth. Occasionally the tonic began to wear off before meal time approached, and as Harson’s eyes became more focussed and his temper rose, the other lads in the squad were obliged to keep him under control.

The terrain remained fairly flat for another week until they had to ford the two branches of the River Mist’s northern tributary. This was a far more difficult crossing than that of the southern tributaries. The streams had wound their way down the Lomoohr Mountains and through the hilly countryside below, so that they frothed and bubbled in a tumultuous riot of undercurrents and rapids to the point where they clashed together, doubling their white, foam surfaced volume and violence. Even at the point upstream which was the shallowest stretch, it was not an easy undertaking and the better part of a day was spent getting everyone safely across. After that the going became harder and slower as the wagons were hauled over increasingly rutted and hilly ground and the leg muscles of the travellers were tested to their limits.

After a week of this difficult terrain and uncomfortable camping yet another stream had to be crossed but this one was calm and tranquil; the far bank flatter, if a bit sandy in places, forming as it did part of the shore line of the great, round Daraeyi Sea. None of them had ever seen this sea before and the next four days were spent skirting the shore line in a certain amount of wonder at the vast expanse of sapphire blue water that stretched out before them. To the east the precipitous escarpment of the Lomoohr mountain range reached towards the sky, grey and unforgiving. The stark contrast between the unbreachable expanse of rock to their right and the perfect beauty of the dark ocean to their left with its paler reflection of cloudless sky, was missed by no one. It was strikingly different to the vista presented to anyone who ventured close enough to the edge of the Wailing Cliffs west of Ebor village, where the Endless Sea rolled grey and threatening.

A sort of reverie descended over the travellers for several hours when they first set eyes on the magnificent panorama, observing as they walked how the sun sparkled on the coruscating ripples of azure and cyan and silver. When the sun set that evening, lighting the water aflame with vibrant curling rolls of copper, rust and gold, the atmosphere was almost worshipful. Then someone discovered that the shallow waves undulating across the sand were still quite warm and for an hour or so shrieks of mirth chorused around the bay as the youths of the party ran in the surf, kicking up the spray and splashing each other, letting off steam in a rare chance for sport.

One small group had not reached the sea with them. After crossing the northern tributary Beyon, Tisha, Jaquor and Eliish had split off to the west and headed for Lytos Meer. Their purpose was to enter the city and track down a man who would give them all passage on his ship and take them to the Chasm and into battle. In short, they needed not just a smuggler but a pirate. These four had been chosen for their Manguin or Myrial heritage which would help them to blend in among the Meerans. They could pose as travellers from Meer Armen seeking passage to Lytos Bor to visit family. It took them ten days to walk from the river ford to the city walls, taking a wide berth around the outlying villages where outsiders would be noticed and questioned more closely. They arrived at the city gates at dusk and took two rooms at a nearby inn which was tolerably clean but relatively inexpensive. Enough valid coinage for this part of the mission had been garnered from all over the forest and carnival. Anyone who had a few Meeran or Myrial coins (both were accepted as valid currency in Lytos Meer) tucked away in the back of a drawer from a long ago emigration or expedition had donated them to the cause. Lyneera had more than anyone else, since she frequently travelled all over the realm. In addition she had donated a small sack of jewels which were to be offered to the pirates in payment for passage. In return she had asked only that Reem be allowed to gather any items she wished on the journey which she felt could repay the debt.

The four weary travellers ate a barely acceptable supper of oily chicken stew with bland, stodgy dumplings in the large common room then eagerly sought their beds, glad of even a lumpy straw mattress after so many nights under canvas. The following morning they sat at one of the scrubbed wooden tables in the common room, eating thin porridge and planning their day.

“First, we need to get right across the city to the harbour,” said Beyon. “We came in through the south gate, so we’re about as far from a boat as it’s possible to be right now. Jaquor, you’ve been here before, do you remember your way through the city?”

Jaquor smiled apologetically and shook his head. “Sorry, Beyon, it was years ago and we left through the east gate after buying horses and wagons. I’ve never been in this part of the city.”

Beyon sighed and stirred at his porridge, letting the greyish mush slide off his spoon and slop wetly back into the bowl. Jaquor racked his brain for anything that might be useful.

“As far as I can recall, the city is divided according to wealth and purpose. Up the hill is the High City where the Royal palace, the Cathedral, government buildings and all the rich people’s houses are. On the hill are the merchants’ houses and shops, the Merchant’s Guild house and the other professional guilds and colleges. Surrounding the base of the hill is everyone else, but there are districts. Seven years ago we left through the east gate, which is in the slaughterhouse district. The stench was unimaginable. The common markets are north-west of there, right at the base of the hill. Between the markets and the north gate are the slums, the brothels and the cheap inns the sailors use. That’s where we need to go.”

“Delightful,” murmured Tisha sarcastically. “So how long will it take to get there and what unlovely areas do we pass through on our way?”

Jaquor’s teeth flashed white against his dark skin, grinning in spite of Tisha’s apparent negativity. They had all known each other for many years and he was used to her often caustic sense of humour.

“It will probably take most of the day. It’s not far as the crow flies, but following the twisting roads and alleys of the city will make it much further. And you won’t replace this end of the city too unpleasant. The garrisons are here in the south, I think, and the remainder of the lower city is ordinary housing, better in the west and getting poorer as you go east and north. There are factories in the east and store houses. It’s not too bad. As for roads and routes; we’ll just have to figure it out as we go.”

“We’d better set off then. I’d love to not have to spend more than one night in a filthy Meeran slum inn.” She kept her voice low as she said this, because the room was becoming crowded and they didn’t want to start a general brawl.

They walked in a generally north-easterly direction, but as they reached the wider avenues at the base of the steep hill it became apparent that their style of dress made them look decidedly out of place among the merchants and their customers. Their bulky travelling packs cast their appearance as more like the servants who trailed along behind the rich shoppers, although even those citizens were dressed in smart livery. They turned east and after an hour or so found themselves walking between large, noisy factories and warehouses, which seemed to produce every conceivable type of goods en masse, from furniture to cloth to cooking pans. On the outskirts of this district they passed an evil-smelling building which emanated an endless, noxious steam from every window. Wagon loads of bloody hooves were being pulled through the open door at the far end, fresh from the slaughterhouse next door. A large sign on the wall of the building read ‘Ridden and sons, producers of high quality glue for eight generations’. Eliish retched and clamped a hand across her nose and mouth, much to the enjoyment of a large Meeran man in a greasy, blood-stained apron near the door, who laughed and shouted to them, “The smell is too much for the ladies, eh? Better walk faster then, it only gets worse in that direction!”

His accent was strange to their ears; sort of thick and syrupy. They nodded in benign agreement and hurried by. He had been right though; the smell of the slaughterhouse district was as bad as Jaquor remembered. Eliish removed her hair scarf and covered her mouth and nose with it to try and filter the smell, but that did nothing to protect her eyes and ears from the assault they received. It seemed that herds of cattle and flocks of sheep and goats from the farms which stretched to the east and west of the city along the sea coast were all driven through the east gate of the city and into one of the many large, wooden buildings nearby. The distressed cries of the animals as they smelled death all around them tore at the heart. Tisha and Eliish turned their heads from the sight of cartfuls of freshly butchered carcasses leaving the slaughterhouses in the direction of the meat market.

“It’s the same as when Demet kills a goat for the stew pot, you know,” remarked Beyon pragmatically to his wife. “Just on a larger scale. A city has a lot of mouths to feed.”

“I know,” said Tisha defensively. “It’s just so much all at once is all. It’s horrid.”

They were glad to leave that area of the city and as they headed into one of the poorer residential areas they saw many sights unfamiliar to them. Tightly packed streets which were home to hundreds of unskilled labourers and their families demonstrated a callous ingenuity of housing design; long terraces of small dwellings backed onto walled yards billowing pale grey with heavily burdened washing lines. The layout was completed by a privy hut, coal bunker and garbage pile at the end of each yard. Narrow alleyways divided the back to back yards, providing access for garbage collectors and coal men, while the streets in between the house fronts were busy with sharp eyed matrons in long skirts and woollen shawls who swept their steps and watched over children, whose clothes were worn but clean and carefully patched.

Younger women chatted on street corners, talking animatedly and gesturing with their hands, some balancing a baby on one hip, some carrying baskets of produce from the market. The men were noticeably absent; probably all at work in the factories, markets and abattoirs.

The four companions wound their way through the twisting, meandering streets whose cartography seemed to have no sense or logic, always keeping the hill of the high city to their left. Finally they emerged into the first of several large market squares. They had been walking for over five hours at this point with no opportunity to rest or eat, and the delightful aroma of food being cooked at several of the stalls was irresistible. They purchased skewers of grilled goat meat and bowls of rice and vegetables steaming in an aromatic sauce, then found a sunny patch of ground near a wall to sit and eat, as several other groups had done around them. There were many food stalls scattered around the square, selling all manner of meats, stews and soups, bread, cakes, pastries and sweetmeats. It seemed to be the time when many businesses paused for a mid-day meal, as there were growing cues in front of several of the stalls. Hawkers cried their wares to the swelling crowd, trying to attract more and more customers.

After an hour’s rest they felt able to carry on and started to walk through the market district, now keeping the north side of the hill directly behind them as much as they could. There were markets of every shape, size and description. Some, like the fish and meat markets, were under the shade of a large, open-sided hall. Others were outdoors and each vendor had a stall draped in brightly coloured cloth. In one square there were large blankets in rows on the ground to mark each stall holder’s patch; their wares laid out on the blankets while they each presided over their tiny empire seated on a small cushion. In the jewellery market each vendor had a tent, for added privacy and security, and the owners stood at their tent flaps holding out an enticing piece to attract passersby inside, smiling ingratiatingly at one and all.

The noise level varied from square to square, as did the smell. They passed as quickly as they could through the fish and meat markets, but Tisha and Eliish longed to linger a little in the clothes market, where every conceivable colour, pattern and weave of fabric surrounded them, hanging in bolts or already made into garments in styles they had never seen in the forest. Beyon and Jaquor reminded them more than once that they were in a hurry – and that they were supposed to be trying to remain inconspicuous.

“And what’s more inconspicuous than women wanting to shop and men trying to hurry past the stalls?” asked Tisha, rather too innocently. “Isn’t that what you do every time we go to the market clearing in the forest?”

Beyon rolled his eyes and determinedly walked away from the women, while Tisha, laughing at his overdone frustration, skipped after him. Eliish smiled; this was a very old argument between them and was carried on more from force of habit than from any real irritation.

Looking about, they took in the contrast between the often plain and sober clothing of the working class citizens and the bright colours and patterns of the vendors, who seemed to use their bodies as adverts for their stalls. Most of the men wore small, brimless hats made of felt or linen, while the women tied long scarves over their hair; some dark and plain, especially among the older women, but often varicoloured and intricately patterned. The city as a whole was a riot of colour and smell, crowds and industry. The sun blazed down on them all day, hardly a breath of fresh air to be had between the high walls of the buildings or the crowded tents of the markets.

It was late afternoon before they reached the last market stalls and crossed over into the least attractive district in Lytos Meer. The grimy buildings were close packed and often rose to three or four stories. They were mostly built of stone, but sometimes the top floor was a wooden addition. These buildings had since the city’s beginnings provided housing for its poorest residents, built centuries before by a benevolent ruler and long since allowed to go to ruin. Sanitation was almost non-existent and the gutters stank of raw sewage as chamber pots were emptied onto the street, sometimes from a great height.

As they neared the north gate, more of the buildings displayed signs over their doors which identified them as inns, saloons and brothels. Women lounged indolently against the walls outside these buildings, waiting for the evening trade to begin. Their faces were made up with rouge and kohl and they seemed to be feeling the heat to an uncomfortable degree, judging by how little they were wearing. Beyon turned his flushed face away from a woman who flauntingly opened her shawl to him, revealing her tanned, plump bosom straining against the lacings of her bodice.

“Fancy a tumble, love?” she asked in the curiously thick sounding accent of the Meerans. She batted her long eyelashes at him, eyes outlined in black, while pouting her too-red lips. “The lady too if she wants, but it costs extra!”

She laughed coarsely at Beyon’s discomfort, but Tisha squared up to her and brazenly shouted back, mimicking the woman’s accent.

“Trust me, love, you couldn’t handle him!”

Beyon made a strangled sound and grabbed Tisha’s hand, pulling her along the street, while the women’s raucous laughter followed them. Jaquor and Eliish followed, wondering at Tisha’s unexpected performance.

“What was all that about?” asked Beyon hoarsely when they were out of earshot. “Inconspicuous, remember?”

“Yes, Beyon, I remember, but sometimes the way to not stand out is to be loud. She wouldn’t have expected a woman who lives in this area to meekly accept another woman propositioning her man. She expected my retort, was amused by it. If you hadn’t pulled me away it would have created an opening to ask about which inns are favoured by the sorts of sailors we’re looking for. We can’t replace a pirate by sneaking about quietly and avoiding people’s gazes, you know.”

“No, I suppose not,” conceded Beyon reluctantly. “Alright, we’ll try it your way then. Just tell me, how did you know what to say to her?”

“Reem told me.”

“But Reem’s never been to Lytos Meer. A Pixie couldn’t travel about the city without being noticed.”

Tisha avoided his gaze as she murmured, “Okay, it’s possible she was talking about similar women in Lytos Bor, but I assumed the attitude would stand.”

“So that stunt could have completely backfired then?” demanded Beyon, eyebrows raised almost into his hairline.

“It didn’t, okay? Now let’s go replace somewhere relatively un-flea-infested to sleep tonight, shall we?”

With that Tisha turned on her heel and continued walking toward the harbour. Beyon shook his head and gave a grunt of ‘why me?’ before gesturing to the others that they should follow her.

The sun had already begun to sink toward the roof line by this point and there was a coolness to the evening to which the travellers were unused. They entered a building whose door sign announced it to be the ‘Mariner’s Rest’ inn and public house. Even from the outside it was obvious that the place was busy. The noise level as they opened the door increased to near deafening.

The public room was quite large and very crowded. The patrons seemed to be mostly men, although a few women circulated between the customers, dressed similarly to the one who had accosted Beyon before. They were smiling broadly and exchanging variously lewd and affectionate banter with the men, who drank deeply from their tankards and offered their own take on affection in return, in the form of drunken gropes and bleary eyed kisses. Those who were ready to part with money were taken up a wooden staircase at the back of the room which Jaquor supposed led to the bedrooms. Eliish blushed furiously, although it made only the slightest difference to her honey gold skin.

“I cannot stay in a brothel!” she said to the others in a low voice. “Can’t we replace a proper inn? This place looks so greasy and dirty; can you imagine what the beds will be like?”

“This is a proper inn, love,” apologised Jaquor. “I believe those women only use it as a sort of base of operations. It’s safer and more comfortable than the street if they don’t belong to a brothel.”

“How do you know so much about it?” asked Eliish.

“I grew up in Lytos Bor, remember? There were plenty of places like this near the circus.”

“I grew up there too, you know,” she countered.

“Yes, love, but on the other side of the city, near the guild houses. And then you were sequestered in the university for the two years before you left. I doubt you ever saw much of this sort of thing. Your mother protected you from it.”

“I suppose so,” Eliish conceded.

“Anyway,” reasoned Beyon, “We need information about sailors and an inn with a name like ‘Mariner’s Rest’ is bound to have a few sailors staying in it, wouldn’t you think?”

The others nodded and they all made their way through the crowded tables to the bar, where more men were ordering tankards of ale or cider from the harried staff. Once Jaquor was able to attract the attention of a bartender, he beckoned him over.

“Two rooms, please,” he shouted over the din. Also four drinks and whatever you have to eat.”

The man nodded and indicated the stairs. “Last two rooms on the left are free,” he shouted back. “And it’s stew. That’ll be eight ralas for the rooms and six dimeena for the meals and drinks.”

Jaquor nodded and pulled a purse from inside his tunic, tipping some coins into his palm. He picked out eight shiny, silver coloured coins and six larger bronze ones then handed them to the barman.

“What kind of stew is it?” asked Jaquor, as he paid the man. He was rewarded with raised brows and a smirk as the barman turned to a lock box behind the bar and deposited the money in it. Jaquor decided it was probably best not to press the issue.

“Enna!” called the barman to a girl who was clearing empty tankards from the tables and frowning as she tried to avoid the pawing hands of the customers. “Residents! Clear a table!” He indicated a square wooden table in the corner where two beer soaked men were almost asleep in their tankards. Enna deposited her armload on the bar and went over to the table, where she unceremoniously removed the drinks which were about all that was holding the men upright.

“Alright boys!” she shouted as they started awake, “Time to go home. Outcha go!”

The men grumbled and one grabbed clumsily for his beer but Enna deftly lifted it out of his reach.

“C’mon, ‘nna, give i’ back,” he slurred at her, swiping the air ineffectually with both hands. His vision was obviously blurred as he wasn’t even grabbing at the spot where his tankard was located.

“No, Charlie, no more tonight. Go home to bed. You too, Reldish.”

The two were clearly regulars and Enna spoke to them as if they were naughty schoolboys. Reldish however was not as incapacitated as Charlie and he grabbed Enna round the waist, pulling her onto his knee and groping at her breasts with one hand while he kissed and licked at her neck.

“I will if you come with me,” he bargained as Enna struggled to free herself from his lecherous grasp.

“Gerrof! Getchoor paws off me!” she yelled, squirming to get away from him. Beyon and Jaquor walked toward the table.

“Leave the lady alone!” commanded Beyon, in a voice which held more strength and resonance than a mere shout. Reldish looked up at him but tightened his hold.

“She ain’t no lady, just a one ralas whore.”

“I ain’t no whore!” objected Enna. “Never whored in my life. Honest barmaid I am, emphasis on maid.”

“I said, leave the lady alone,” insisted Beyon. “Am I going to have to say it again?”

Reldish looked more thoroughly at Beyon and took in his height and build, which was clearly muscular. He seemed at that point to notice Jaquor for the first time, glowering at him just behind Beyon. Reldish was a short, portly man and he didn’t fancy his chances, especially not with Charlie in such a stupor that he had risen drunkenly from the table, staggered to the door and then collapsed against the wall and sunk to the floor, fast asleep. He let go of Enna and stood up, sulkily.

“No need,” he sulked. “I’m going.”

“Apologise to the lady for your uncouth behaviour,” instructed Beyon. Jaquor raised his eyebrows, feeling that Beyon was taking it a bit too far, but he said nothing.

“Sorry, Enna,” mumbled Reldish, a humiliated blush growing around his neck and cheeks.

“That’s better. Now, off you go home and in future try to be a little more courteous.”

He turned to indicate the door and as he did so noticed for the first time that the surrounding tables had fallen silent and were watching him carefully. It seemed that they were weighing up his actions and deciding what to do next. Enna was smiling shyly at him and her familiar chiding of the regular customers he had witnessed earlier gave him an idea. He grabbed the nearest tankard and raised it aloft.

“To Enna!” he cried. “Best barmaid in the city!” and he drank from the tankard.

“Enna!” chorused the men at the surrounding tables enthusiastically and drank deeply of their ale. Then the normal level of conversation resumed and Beyon turned to spit the beer back into the tankard, looking slightly queasy. He retched and leaned on the table, pulling an awful grimace.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tisha, as she and Eliish joined them.

“That was Charlie’s tankard. I think he drooled in it.”

Looking slightly green he sank into the recently vacated chair. Enna was looking at him in wonder.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “Harrel usually looks out for me, but it’s been so busy today. Four ships came into harbour that had been at sea for weeks and all the sailors want to get drunk and replace women. It was good of you to be so chivalrous.”

Jaquor noticed that Enna’s speech was a little more eloquent and polished than you might expect from a harbour tavern barmaid, and he decided to try something.

“Enna, we’ve come a long way and we’re strangers to this area. Do you think you could help us?”

“Of course. I owe you a debt and I’d be happy to help you. Where have you come from?”

“We live in Meer Armen,” lied Jaquor smoothly. “But as you can see I am Myrial, as is Eliish here. We are hoping to travel to Lytos Bor to visit family and are looking for a ship that would give us passage.”

The four friends sat down at the table as a server arrived with a large bowl of stew and four dishes and spoons. He returned a moment later with four foaming tankards of beer, which Tisha and Eliish regarded with distaste.

“Many ships offer passage, sir. Some go directly between here and Lytos Bor, others make a circuit, porting at Lytos Theen and Lytos Darr on the way round.”

“We’re looking for a particular type of ship. Say, one that might stop at an undisclosed location on the way round?”

“Why would you need to do that?” asked Enna warily, as if it might be a trick question.

“Say, we might have something to pick up? Something quite important to us?” suggested Jaquor.

“Something you don’t want the Port Authorities to know about,” supplied Enna flatly. “And you think I’m just going to give you names. Are you from the Excise?”

Jaquor looked at her in mild confusion. “Sorry, the what?” he asked.

“The Excise. The sheriffs of the port? I know Meer Armen isn’t a port city, but surely you must know how they catch smugglers.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry, I must have misheard you.” Jaquor mentally kicked himself for the blunder. “No, we’re not them. And I don’t expect you to tell us names for nothing. I’d like to prove that we mean you no harm. Enna, you did well in school, didn’t you? Do you really like being a barmaid?”

“What’s my schooling got to do with anything?” she asked. “Although I did, as it happens. My teacher wanted me to stay on and learn more, but my father couldn’t afford the fees. He said girls don’t need much learning anyway and I should be happy just to earn an honest wage. I don’t mind so much; Harrel’s a good boss. He’s fair, pays on time and always lets me away a day every week to visit my Mum.” She smiled at Harrel where he was filling tankards and chatting amiably with the men at the bar.

“But what would you really like to do, if you could?” persisted Jaquor, surreptitiously rummaging in one of the packs till he found a small, hard package.

“I’d be a teacher,” confessed Enna nervously, looking at her feet. “If I could afford the training. I’d teach at a poor school; teach kids like I was.”

“That is a very noble ambition,” admired Tisha.

Enna smiled. “Not really an ambition; more a dream.”

“Perhaps not,” said Beyon. Jaquor held up a polished red stone, about the size of his thumbnail and perfectly round.

“Would this make your dream come true?” he asked

Enna’s eyes were like saucers. “Is that... a ruby?” she asked disbelievingly. “Where did you get it?”

“From a friend. It’s yours if you tell me those names.”

Enna considered it carefully. “And you’re really not Excise? Promise?” she asked.

Jaquor shook his head, smiling. “Promise.”

“Malden and Jonas,” said Enna, holding out her hand. “They both docked today from Lytos Bor – in a round about sort of way most probably. Their ships are the Seabird and the Ennas Star. Either would take you, for a price. They are two of the bravest, craziest Myrials I have ever met, so I’ll think you’ll like them.”

“You do? Why’s that?” asked Jaquor, as he placed the ruby in Enna’s palm.

She grinned. “You walked into a bar in a strange city and nearly started a brawl to defend a barmaid you’d never met before, then escaped it by proposing a toast,” she replied. “If that’s not brave and crazy, I don’t know what is!”

She closed her fist around around the ruby and walked over to where Harrel was standing behind the bar, making the most of a momentary lull in custom. “Harrel, I quit,” she announced. “I’ve decided to train as a school teacher.” She reached up to hold his head with her free hand and, pulling him towards her, planted a firm kiss on his lips. “If you still want to spend time with me, you’ll replace me at my mother’s house,” she said, and with that she turned on her heel and strode out of the inn.

Harrel looked completely stunned but rather pleased, despite losing his best barmaid. The four circus folk stared at him, then at each other, then laughed till their stew was quite cold.