Dagger's Point (Shadow series) (16 page)

In the morning the air was fresh and sweet, the sun was shining in a nearly clear sky, and the river had risen just enough that the raft would be easy to push from the rocks. There were four eels on Jael’s lines, and the fish and meat in the oven were well smoked. Jael wrapped the eels in rushes to cook while she and Tanis finished preparing the lean-to for the raft.

Tanis helped Jael cut sturdy poles and strip them of branches, and together they wove tight mats of rushes to form a fairly weatherproof shelter. At least the pelts would not be spoiled by rain, and Jael and Tanis would have some relief from the sun while they traveled. When the eels were finished cooking, Jael knocked her oven apart and carried the rocks to the raft, where, with a little new mud, she built a sort of bowl under the roof of the shelter in which they could build a small fire to cook any fish they caught. Tanis cut more rushes and took some of the willow switches from their bower, from which they could weave a basket to hold their catch.

This time, as they once again trusted their fate to the Willow River, Jael’s heart was lighter. Yes, they were far off their path and being carried farther away all the time, but they’d make the best of it. After surviving highwaymen, trappers, and skin-shifters, of what consequence was a few more leagues on their journey?

The river was flowing a little faster, likely because of the rain, but the water was deep enough that there were no rocks to worry about, and the river was so wide that the occasional fallen and half-submerged tree was easy to avoid. By midday Jael had developed a fair knack of using the large steering oar to guide the raft, and they took it in turns, one steering while the other fished or cleaned and cooked the catch, carefully saving the heads and entrails for bait. They told tales to pass the time, Tanis reminiscing about the cities he’d visited, and Jael repeating the elven legends she’d heard in the Heartwood or spinning outrageous yarns she’d been told in her childhood by Shadow and her friends at the Guild of Thieves.

As afternoon turned to evening, however, and the sun touched the horizon, forcing them to find another bank where they could stop for the night, Jael and Tanis became silent. There’d been no sign of any settlement along the river, not even another boat.

This time Jael and Tanis merely tied the raft securely and stayed on it. There were no willows here, and why build another shelter when there was one on the raft already? Jael found a few potherbs and tubers to supplement the fish they’d caught, but tonight the food, well spiced with worry, had no savor.

They ate silently. Jael thought sourly that where there were no choices, there could be no conversation. They’d wagered there’d be some settlement near Tilwich, and they’d lost that wager. There might be nothing closer than several days’ journey down the river, and now it was too late to turn back; even if they could find Tilwich by traveling on foot up the river, perhaps constructing a travois to carry the pelts, their only trade commodity, it would be a long and dangerous journey. Jael had no illusions that either she or Tanis was fit for extended rough travel through the wilderness on foot. A sword, even Jael’s sword, was not much of a weapon if they were attacked by a pack of wolves. There was simply nothing to do but stay with the river until they
did
find a settlement large enough that they could trade what they had, and where Tanis might be able to steal a little money, too.

At least, Jael reflected, they could stay clean; there was the river to wash their clothes and the sun to dry them, and Jael easily found roots that lathered in water when well pounded. When the sun grew too hot, Jael or Tanis would simply strip and slide into the river, holding securely to the rope. There was always fresh water to drink, and plenty of fish and eels to eat.

It was, in fact, five more days before they began to see signs of settlement. Jael was the first to spot a small boat tied to the bank, and a well-trod path winding into the forest—doubtless someone’s home. She was so excited that she almost made Tanis stop the raft then and there; Tanis pointed out practically, however, that where there was one boat and house, there’d be more, and there was no need to risk a wary settler turning his bow or his dog on them as soon as they set foot on his land.

Tanis was soon proven correct; more boats appeared, some tied only to stakes or trees, but others lashed firmly to well-built small docks. At last Jael spotted a young boy fishing from the bank, and Tanis was quick to steer the raft toward him, calling out to ask what city lay ahead. The boy listened puzzledly, then called back something in a language Jael did not recognize. Tanis knew several other languages, and he tried a few of them, but the raft was drifting onward even as he spoke, and finally he was forced to resort to gestures before the boy nodded his comprehension, pointed downriver, and said, “Zaravelle,” spreading his hands far apart to indicate a large city.

“Zaravelle,” Jael repeated, her heart sinking. “That’s all the way to the south coast, Tanis!”

“I know.” Tanis put his arm around Jael’s shoulder, hugging her comfortingly. “But it’s a large city, as large as Allanmere. We can buy horses there, and supplies, and sleep in an inn again. Besides, just think—I’ve never seen the sea, have you?”

That cheered Jael a bit; she’d always dreamed of seeing the great salty sea Shadow told such stories of. And Tanis could probably take a purse or two at the market, enough to see them supplied again. Well, they’d simply make the best of the situation, just as they had before now. And a hot bath and something besides fish to eat
would
be nice.

It was midaftemoon when they reached the docks of Zaravelle. When Tanis tied the raft to one of the docks, however, and Jael handed up to him their bundle of furs and sack of supplies, a young man in what appeared to be a guard uniform hurried over, addressing them in the same language the boy had used. Tanis shook his head and again tried every language he knew, and Jael tried Olvenic as well, but without success. At last the guard succeeded in conveying through gestures that there was a fee to be paid for leaving a raft or boat tied to the docks. Pulling a handful of coins from his purse, the guard held up two coppers and pointed to Jael and Tanis, holding his hand out sternly. Jael and Tanis glanced at each other and grinned, and Jael pulled out her dagger and slashed through the raft’s rope in one stroke. The guard’s eyebrows shot up as he watched the raft float sedately away downriver to the sea, but he made no protest, only shrugging as Jael and Tanis shouldered their bundles and walked into Zaravelle.

Jael had hoped to smell the sea, but her nose was immediately assaulted by the city odors she knew so well—sweat and mud and leather and dung, cooking food and incense and burning wood and urine and—

Jael sneezed resoundingly.

“We’ll find an inn first,” Tanis told her. “Maybe the innkeeper can direct us to someone who might buy these pelts. It’s a good thing you thought of those herbs, or they’d smell musty and I’d get less for them. We’ll wait about selling my ring and your earrings, though. Maybe we won’t have to sell them at all.”

“You ought to find out if there’s a Guild of Thieves in Zaravelle,” Jael said slowly. “If we’re going to be here several days, you should get permission to work the market, and the Guild would be a good place for you to find out a bit about the city—any odd laws we ought to know, maybe recommendations of merchants to trade with or to avoid. If you can find anyone you can talk to, that is.”

“I’ll find someone,” Tanis reassured her. “Thieves, like merchants, tend to see a lot of leagues under their bootsoles. With a token from the Guild of Allanmere, I should be able to get at least temporary permission to work here.” He shrugged apologetically. But I’1l need some of the money. There’1l probably be a fee.”

Jael quickly tired of carrying the heavy bundle of pelts, but it took them some time to locate an inn that appeared clean but cheap. Bargaining for their room and supper was difficult, as the innkeeper could not understand a word they said, nor they him, but at last Tanis settled on half a Moon per night including supper, two Moons paid in advance, and Jael was able to deposit her bundle of pelts in their room. Tanis, however, kept his bundle, saying he’d try to trade the pelts while looking for the Guild of Thieves.

“I could go with you,” Jael suggested. “I spent a lot of time at the Guild in Allanmere.”

“It’s not the same,” Tanis said, shaking his head. “These aren’t the people you knew. These are strangers, some of them vicious people, and you’re not a Guild member. It’s better if you don’t come.”

Jael sighed, but Tanis was right. She’d been at least fairly competent and useful in the wilderness, but here in the city there was nothing for her to do but stay out of trouble, it seemed. Tanis took two Moons with him to pay any guild fees; that left Jael with one lone Moon in her pocket and a city full of people she could neither speak to nor understand.

When Tanis was gone, Jael found her way to the market, having nothing better to occupy her time. Zaravelle’s market was rather different from the one in Allanmere; as most of its trade goods were brought in on large ships, either from Tilwich to the north or along the seacoast, there were more large shops and permanent stalls, and fewer movable wagons and carts. There was no Compact here to limit the cutting of timber, and Zaravelle had not been built on a handy foundation of ready stone, so most of the buildings were wood. Too, Zaravelle had no farming community as did Allanmere, but rather a prodigious fishing industry; consequently preservation-spelled tubs of fish of all shapes, sizes, and colors replaced the quantities of fruit and vegetables Jael was accustomed to seeing. There were many wares Jael did not recognize, and ordinarily she’d have been an eager browser among the stalls, but the Moon in her pocket was all she had, and supper was the only meal she was guaranteed, so she reluctantly turned away from the fascinating goods. Besides, Jaellyn the Cursed wandering too close to the preservation-spelled fish might mean a smelly disaster for Zaravelle’s fishmongers.

To Jael’s delight, however, she stumbled upon a treasure—a spice shop being tended by three harassed-looking elves. These were not Allanmere’s varied forest folk, but eastern elves, uniformly human-tall and fair but not pale; Jael, however, was uninclined to be choosy. The elves, too, smiled delightedly when they saw Jael approaching.

“Welcome, kinswoman!” the nearest, a slender fellow with sunburnt skin, called in Olvenic. He left the other two elves, a shorter man and a willowy woman, to deal with the customers haggling at the scales.

Jael stepped into the shop. Immediately the mixed fragrance of dozens of spices—sweet, spicy, fragrant, pungent—drowned out the other smells of the market. Jael breathed in the wonderful aroma, recalling with a pang the familiar scent of Argent’s workshop at home.

“It’s good to hear a voice I understand,” Jael admitted. Eastern elves did not clasp hands or embrace on meeting as the elves in the Heartwood did; the golden-haired elf barely brushed Jael’s fingertips in greeting, although his smile was warm and friendly.

“Well met, kinswoman,” he said. “I’m Barend, and my companions are Serji and Roa.”

“I’m J- Acorn,” Jael said, inwardly scolding herself. These weren’t her friends in the Heartwood; these were strange elves, and Jael could not afford to trust them too quickly. “I just arrived in Zaravelle this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” Barend raised his eyebrows. “But no ships have arrived, either from the eastern coast or on the river.”

“My companion and I rafted down from Willow Bend,” Jael explained. “We missed the boat from Tilwich.”

“I hear the river north of Tilwich is terrible,” Barend said sympathetically. “It must have been quite a journey, only the two of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t only the two of us,” Jael said after a moment’s hesitation. It couldn’t hurt to tell Barend the story here, after all, and if Letha or either of her companions ever came to Zaravelle, Jael wouldn’t mind if a nasty reputation had preceded them. “We hired three trappers to take us to Tilwich, but they drugged Caden and me and robbed us of almost everything we owned. While they were busy fighting over our money, though, Caden and I managed to escape on their raft.”

“How terrible!” Barend exclaimed. “But you must sup with us and tell us your story. We’ll close the shop and cook your supper.”

To Jael’s embarrassment, they did just that, shooing the patrons from the shop and locking the doors. The elves lived in a comfortable set of rooms behind the shop, scrupulously clean and beautifully decorated, but a bit small and close for Jael’s comfort. Roa ducked out the back door and returned shortly with a basket of pincer-claws, but it was Barend who reigned at the small brazier, chatting cheerfully even while he cracked shells, ground spices in a mortar and pestle, or wielded his cleaver so rapidly that Jael was certain at least one finger must join the contents of the pan. At last he scooped great mounds of spicy pincer-claw meat, quick-fried vegetables, and buttered boiled grain onto four plates. There being no dining table, they sat down on the rug and ate there.

While they ate, Jael gave Roa, Serji, and Barend a somewhat pared-down account of what had happened since she and Tanis had left Allanmere, omitting any reference to the reason for their journey. The three elves listened raptly, their eyes wide, until Jael had finished.

“How terrible,” Roa murmured at last. “I pray to the Bright One that you’ve exhausted the misfortune that’s ridden with you on your journey.”

“Perhaps you’ve been cursed,” Serji suggested. “There’s a powerful mage in the city, and I’ve heard it told he’s especially adept at raising curses.”

“I’m more interested in finding a reputable furrier,” Jael said, grinning to herself. She couldn’t tell Serji just how impossible it was that anyone could have cast a curse on her. “We’ve got some pelts to sell.”

“For that you’ll want Lezlas at the south market,” Barend told her. “He trades fairly.”

Jael chatted with the elves a bit longer, but realized at last that it must be well past nightfall. It didn’t grieve her that she’d likely missed supper at the inn, but Tanis might be worried by her late return. Reluctantly, she took leave of her new friends and made her way back to the inn, proud that she only lost her way three times. As she expected, supper was long past, but Tanis was in their room, brooding darkly over a mug. Unlike the elves, when Tanis saw her his scowl merely deepened.