Strange characters were written on its bow’s side; she could not read them, though they were the same script that had been on the side of the last Suman vessel she and hers had used. The ramp was down, and she was halfway up when a sailor at the top who was holding a broom spotted her.
Dänvârfij paused. “Pardon,” she tried in Numanese, and hoped he understood; her skill with that human language was passable. “I am ... separate from my friend. I think ... was she here today?”
The sailor was young, with dusky skin and curling black hair. He looked inside Dänvârfij’s hood at her tan face and amber eyes.
“I think you are right,” he answered in what sounded like fluent Numanese. “Pretty girl, green eyes, with a dog? She looked a little like you. Thought she was an old woman at first, but she only limped and needed a stick.”
Dänvârfij was caught most by that short, telling description—a pretty girl with green eyes who looked like an an’Cróan.
“Yes, my friend. Where she go?”
He shook his head with a shrug and frowned. “She talked to the captain, then left, but the dog got the deck filthy.” He made a sweeping motion with his broom. “If you find your friend, help her clean that dog up before you come back. No more soot and black stuff on my deck.”
Dänvârfij glanced once down the pier, but the girl and the dog would be long gone.
“Where ship bound?” she asked.
Sweeping again, he appeared mildly surprised. “To il’Dha’ab Najuum. We make the run back and forth. There are no other ports between here and the Suman Empire, just the desert.” He frowned. “Look at this mess.”
Dänvârfij turned and strode down the ramp, for she now needed guidance from Most Aged Father.
Brot’ân’duivé lay flat upon a warehouse rooftop next to the harbormaster’s office. It was the optimal place from which to watch over Wayfarer and Chap. He saw them board the Suman vessel and was mildly surprised when they departed shortly after. They came straight down the pier and headed back into the city without any further stops.
Had they been successful on their first attempt? Or had something gone wrong and Chap rushed the girl back to the inn?
Brot’ân’duivé began inching back from the edge in order to follow them. Later he was uncertain what had made him pause and look back along that pier. A tall, slender figure in a weathered cloak walked up the pier toward the same ship that the girl and the majay-hì had left.
He froze on all fours atop the roof and fixed upon that one person.
The figure was fully covered and hooded, but its smooth gait of soft steps was too familiar. The figure stopped halfway up the ship’s ramp for a few moments, appeared to speak with a dark-skinned sailor sweeping off the deck, and then turned around and came back down the pier at a quicker pace.
Brot’ân’duivé debated between following the cloaked figure or making certain that Wayfarer and Chap returned safely to the inn. His purpose here, by his own insistence, was to ensure the safety of the girl and the majay-hì. Frustrated, he backed away from the edge and soft-stepped to the roof’s far side to go after Wayfarer and Chap.
Dänvârfij walked into the forest south of Soráno, though it was little like those with which she was familiar. The trees here were mixed somewhat with palms and other tall, broad-leafed growths. She knelt beside a gnarl-limbed tree somewhat like the coastal pines of her land. Her hands shook slightly as she reached into the side of her vestment for an oval piece of smooth, tawny wood no bigger than her palm.
It was often called a “word-wood,” and this was the last one left to her team. When pressed against any tree, it let her communicate with her caste’s patriarch from anywhere in the world, for it had been created from the very tree in which he now dwelled.
Reaching out, Dänvârfij pressed the word-wood against the tree’s trunk and whispered, “Father?”
All of her caste called him Father.
I am here, Daughter.
At his words in her mind, she faltered. How could she begin to tell him what had occurred in Drist, that they had lost two more of their brethren to Brot’ân’duivé’s blade? They were now down to four in number, and of those remaining, only she and Rhysís were in proper condition to fight.
“Father ...” she began. “I require your guidance.”
It pained her beyond measure to tell him all that had occurred since they last spoke. The words grew easier once she reached the events of that morning.
“The old woman—the girl who boarded the Suman ship—could only be Leanâlhâm,” she said without doubt, “with the wayward majay-hì in disguise. They must have been arranging for passage farther south.”
Where is the vessel bound?
She could feel the tightness in his voice within her thoughts. He was disappointed in her for all that had happened, though he would never chastise her. This only weighed upon her more.
“To a place called il’Dha’ab Najuum,” she answered. “A sailor on board told me there are no other ports between here and the Suman Empire, only a great desert along the coast.” She hesitated for an instant. “How do you counsel us to capture our quarry before they flee again?”
He remained silent for so long that she began wondering whether the link between his tree and the one she touched had been broken. And then ...
It appears they have been striving to reach this destination all along, since they keep pressing southward. I wonder why and what they seek there.
He was quiet again for a moment.
What of the Suman vessel you commandeered in ... Drist, was it? You killed the crew before you chose to take the Cloud Queen?
“Yes, Father. It was a small Suman ship called the Bashair. All aboard were silenced, including the captain.”
She wondered why he was asking.
Can you arrange passage from your current location to il’Dha’ab Najuum?
“Possibly ... The Falcon, the Numan vessel we arrived on, is heading south. I could tell the captain that we wish to travel onward.”
His train of thought left her doubtful. Her first instinct was to set a trap for their quarry in this city.
Do not attempt capture in Soráno. You are spread too thinly. If the Numan vessel is fast, gain passage and get ahead of Magiere, the traitor, and all with them. Reach il’Dha’ab Najuum first and be ready for their arrival.
She hesitated to question his word, but she could not help asking, “If you feel we are too few, how can we be more assured of capturing them in the Suman port?”
Because you will arrange for assistance from the local authorities, and you are not the first of us to travel there. The Sumans are reputed to be a ... lawful people. Listen carefully....
Leesil couldn’t stop pacing. His armor and weapons were strapped on, and he was ready to leave in an instant. He both tensed and exhaled in relief when a knock came at the door of their room—and sooner than he’d expected.
Magiere beat him to the door and pressed her face against it with one hand on the latch.
“It is us,” said a soft voice from the other side.
Magiere jerked the door open and pulled Wayfarer inside. After Chap trotted in with a trail of charcoal dust in the air, Magiere pushed the door closed ... almost.
A hand wrapped around the door’s edge.
Leesil dropped a hand to grab the sheath tie on one of his winged punching blades as Magiere reached for the falchion on her hip.
The door shoved open, and Brot’an stepped in, shutting the door himself. But the aging assassin said nothing at first.