Legacy of the Blood (The Threshold Trilogy) (9 page)

The port city of Emerald Harbor was located at the edge of an
inlet on the eastern coast of Sehar—Adesina’s homeland. It was one of five
remaining cities, now that the High City had been destroyed. As the group of
travelers topped a hill overlooking the port, Adesina was amazed by its size.
It was easily larger than the High City and Yavar combined—the only two cities
she had ever personally seen.

The inlet itself was filled with aquatic plants that had shiny,
diamond-shaped leaves. The leaves and water glittered in the sunlight, giving
the impression of millions of sparkling jewels. The light dazzled the eyes of
the newcomers as they rode towards the city.

As they drew nearer, Adesina noticed other scents mixing with the
fresh ocean breeze. Livestock, open-air markets, piles of refuse, unwashed
bodies—it was the smell of many thousands of people living in close quarters.
There was some excitement in seeing the bustle of the streets, but it also made
her long for the quiet of her home.

Their names were taken at the gate, and added to a ledger that
recorded every visitor.

“Nationality?” inquired the guard, with boredom on his face.

Kendan gestured first to himself, and then to the others.
“Seharan, Jourin, L’avan, Rashad.”

He wrote down this information without the least change of
expression. Adesina was surprised to see how little he cared that they were
magic-users.

“Occupations?”

“Soldiers for hire.”

“What is your purpose in coming to Emerald Harbor?” asked the
guard.

“We wish to find a transport ship,” answered Kendan.

The guarded finished recording this information and then waved
them onward. Adesina waited until they were past the gate before leaning toward
her former teacher.

“Was it wise to give him our real names?”

Kendan shrugged. “We are not hiding from anyone.”

“Did you see his reaction?” asked Mar’sal. “He did not care that
we are L’avan. I have never seen a place where the people acted in such a way.”

“Clearly, you have not traveled enough,” said Kendan wryly. “While
the Shimat have made efforts to create unfavorable opinions of your people, it
was only necessary in the places where you would be known. As long as you were
isolated, it was a simple matter of creating distrust in your neighbors. That
is a much more difficult task in places where they are relatively accustomed to
seeing unusual people.”

It was true that the L’avan had remained in the northern parts of
the land, even when they ventured away from Pevothem.

“Perhaps we shall have to remedy that,” commented Than’os.

Mar’sal lowered his voice. “Should we have asked about Basha
coming through here? If they record all visitors, they must have recorded her.”

“I doubt she gave her real name,” pointed out Adesina. “We will
find better information asking down at the docks.”

They rode down the busy streets, navigating carefully around the
pedestrians. Kendan led the way, and he seemed very comfortable in choosing
their direction.

“I spent some time here in my early years as a Shimat,” he
explained when he noticed her questioning glance. “There is a quiet inn not far
from here. I know the owner.”

The buildings of Emerald Harbor were mostly build of wood, and
then painted bright colors. There was an upward slope to the south, and it
appeared that the more wealthy citizens lived on the hill. Their homes and
businesses were made of varying shades of granite, and Kendan mentioned that
there was a quarry only a few leagues away.

There was much more diversity in the people of the city than
Adesina had ever seen before. There were men and women with skin almost as dark
as Ravi’s coat, and some who were so pale that Adesina wondered if they ever
saw the sun. There were men wearing strange, pleated skirts and there were
women wearing trousers. There were those with tattoos, and those with piercings
all over their bodies. Some wore clothing that barely covered them, and others
showed no more than their eyes.

Ravi was not the only exotic creature accompanying a human
companion. There were brightly feathered birds, horses with six legs, and
enormous hounds. Such beasts were not a common sight on the streets, but they
were certainly not rare. Ravi still received amazed stares, but no one
questioned them or acted out of panic.

“There are not many cities in Sehar,” explained Kendan, “and
Emerald Harbor is the only one that attracts foreigners. The sea emerald plant
grows in abundance in the inlet, and a beautiful dye can be extracted from it.
Traders are usually the only ones that come here, since Sehar has little else
to offer.”

Adesina already knew about the economic isolation of her homeland.
It was one of the reasons why the Shimat found it an ideal location from which
to base their operations. They themselves were able to maintain the solitude
they desired, and it was easier for them to exert control over the individual
groups of people.

They used isolation to manipulate and divide the Seharans. Adesina
knew that would have to change if they were ever going to stand against the
Shimat.

The inn that Kendan led them to was tucked away from the main
roads, but it was clean and respectable-looking. It bore a sign with a black
cat painted on it, and Ravi eyed it with visible amusement.

“A fitting place,” he rumbled, with a smile dancing at the corners
of his mouth.

The common room was warm and lively. There were a handful of
people sitting at tables and chatting, and there was an aged bard sitting on a
stool in the corner. He plucked a cheerful tune on his lute, and there was the
slightest pause as he looked up to see the newcomers.

A thin man with an enormous mustache spotted Kendan and hurried
over to greet him.

“Master Karon! It has been a long time since I last saw you.”

Kendan smiled. “Hello, Master Radwan.”

“What brings you back to The Black Cat? Are you returning to live
in Emerald Harbor? We can always use a skilled carpenter.”

“I am sorry to say that we are just passing through,” he answered,
and his regret sounded genuine. “Is there any room for us here?”

The innkeeper slapped Kendan on the shoulder. “For you, my friend,
always. Sit down, and I will send out some food. I will come by later and we
can talk of the old days.”

They found an empty table on the far side of the room, and were
immediately served plates of steaming vegetables and some sort of fish. The
others began eating, but Adesina was impatient to move on.

“What is the next step in rescuing L’iam? Shall we go down to the
docks?”

Kendan gave her an amused glance. “All in good time. We must make
time to eat and sleep, though. Not all of us have your tireless energy.”

“There is plenty of time to question the dock workers before the
sun goes down,” she insisted.

“Yes, and I intend to do so,” he replied with exaggerated
patience. “However, you must keep in mind that this part of our journey will
probably take some time.”

“Why?” asked Mar’sal as he took a swig of cider.

“Because there are a limited number of ships that sail to this
land. I do not doubt that we will be able to find out where Basha has gone, but
it could be weeks until there is another ship heading for the same
destination.”

The L’avan stared at him, aghast.

“Weeks?” repeated Adesina weakly.

Kendan nodded decisively. “We might be able to bribe a ship’s
captain into making a detour for us, but I doubt I have enough coin to make it
worthwhile. You must prepare yourselves for a lengthy wait.”

The young queen glanced at Faryl. “If it is coin that we need…”
she began.

“No, Adesina,” interrupted Than’os. “You cannot do that, even for
L’iam.”

Faryl was confused. “What are you talking about?”

She hesitated, knowing that she shouldn’t even suggest such a
course of action. However, her desperation to continue on their journey almost outweighed
her reservations. “Between the two of us, we could
create
gold or
jewels.”

The light of interest flared in Kendan’s eyes. “Oh?”

“It is against our laws to use
vyala
for such personal gain,”
protested Than’os.

“It would not be for
our
personal gain,” hedged Adesina.

He was not convinced. “It would be for
someone’s
personal
gain, no matter how you choose to look at it. L’iam would not want us to
violate our trust in order to save him.”

She clenched her fists and said in a low voice, “But I would do
anything to bring him home.”

“There are other ways,” Than’os reminded her gently. “More ethical
ways. Our king would not thank you for setting a precedence for future abuse of
that power.”

Kendan frowned and leaned forward. “Why do you have laws against such
practices? Think of all the good you could accomplish with unlimited resources.”

Than’os gave a sad smile. “Yes, that would always be the initial
argument. We could eliminate hunger if we were allowed to create crops. There
would be no poverty if we could create gold. There would be no illness if we
could heal everyone we wished. We could create a utopia for humankind.”

“Exactly,” exclaimed Kendan.

“But consider the cost,” Mar’sal interjected. “Imagine a nation
where everything was simply given to the people—they never had to work, they
never had to sacrifice. Such a nation would become selfish, entitled, and
uncaring. The entire civilization would destroy itself.”

“That is only one scenario,” added Than’os. “What if someone
decided to use their gifts to gain power? They could promise a city that they
would never starve or fall ill, but in return they must live in submission of
L’avan rule.”

Adesina sighed. “There are many reasons why the L’avan have laws
governing how they use their magic, and those laws have safeguarded against the
abuse of power for many generations.” She closed her eyes as she admitted what
she knew to be true. “I am still new to this way of life, and I should not
assume I know better than those who have come before.”

“Times change,” argued Kendan. “The L’avan cannot expect to live
by the standard of a hundred years ago.”

Her back straightened slowly. It was hard to make a choice like
this, but she knew deep down that it was what she needed to do. “There are some
things that never change. We cannot declare something to be right simply
because we wish it to be so.” She inclined her head toward her companion.
“Than’os is correct. L’iam would not want me to make that choice on his
behalf.”

The former Shimat gave a forced shrug. He tried to appear as if he
didn’t care, but Adesina could see that he was irritated. “Whatever you wish.”

They finished their meal in silence, and they were soon joined by
the innkeeper. He spoke to Kendan in a jolly tone, talking about people they
had known and times that they had shared. It had been more than ten years since
Kendan had lived in Emerald Harbor, but he recalled the details of that
fabricated life easily.

While Kendan and Master Radwan spoke, Faryl excused herself and
went to her room to lie down. She was still recovering from her time as a
prisoner, and the pace of their travel was taxing.

Soon after Faryl’s departure, the aged bard set aside his lute and
quietly approached their table. He had a dashing appearance, even though he was
well past his prime. His tailored jacket was made of a crimson velvet, which
was slightly worn, and his frilly shirt was carefully mended. He was clearly
accustomed to travel and hard times, but he did not seem to mind.

“May I sit here, mistress?” he asked Adesina, giving a courtly
bow. “I would speak to you, if I may.”

She was surprised by his address, but she assented.

He seated himself with a flourish, and leaned toward her in a
confidential manner. “I hope you do not think me rude, but I felt compelled to
satisfy my curiosity. You see, I am a well-traveled man, but I have never seen
any who bear your resemblance. From where do you hail?”

Adesina was charmed and entertained by his words. “We are from the
far north of this land.”

“Ah,” he said carefully. “I have not had the pleasure of venturing
to that country.”

She found herself grinning, and gave him the answer for which he
was really searching. “Our people are called L’avan. We are magic-users.”

His expression cleared. “I see! I have heard stories of northern
cults, but surely such tales must be exaggerated.”

Adesina chuckled. She could not say exactly why, but she was
taking an immediate liking to the old man. “I grew up in the south, and I also
heard such stories. I can assure you that they are not true.”

He smiled brightly. “My name is Jahan Lirit, wordsmith and
music-weaver.”

“My name is Adesina,” was the amused reply.