The old man collected his coin, stowed it away. He blinked thoughtfully at the skin, ran his tongue around his teeth. “Real quiet, aah?” He scratched at the gray and white stubble on his wattles. “Wanna keepa neye lifted for sharks.”
“Hard to know where the sharks are if you don’t know the waters. “‘
“Aaah: Eleias Laux’s lookin for cargo, might go without if ta patron meetzis price. Skia Hetaira, thatzis boat.” He took the wineskin and drank until he seemed about to drown, stopped the flow with the neatness he’d shown before. “Way down west end. Black boat, ketch, flag’s a four point star, black on white. Lio, eez hived up at the Green Jug. Eatzis noon there.” He glanced at the sun. “‘Bout this time a day, more often than not.” He held out the skin. “Gi’m a stoup ‘r two a this and eez like to sail ta patron to the Golden Isles, no charge.”
Daniel Akamarino got to his feet, yawned and stretched. He smiled amiably at the old man. “G’ day to you, friend,” he said and strolled away.
“How’d you know he’d know?”
Daniel looked down, startled. Jaril was walking beside him, looking up at him with those enigmatic crystal eyes. “Been on a lot of worlds,” he said. “There’s always someone who knows, you just have to find him.
Or her or it, whatever. That old man, he’s got the best pitch in the. Market which means he’s got some kind of clout, I don’t have to know what kind, just that it exists. There’s this, he’s no muscle man, must be shrewdness. Brains and information. Means he knows what’s going on where.”
“And now you’re going to hunt out Eleias Laux?”
“Mmm, might.”
“That’s a funny wineskin.”
“Funny how?”
“It’s not all that big.”
“Mmm.”
“Should be near empty the.way you been squeezing it. Isn’t, is it?”
“Lot of funny things on this world. You might have noticed.”
“We have noticed that. Some of it’s been done to us.” The boy grinned up at him. “How’ve you been feeling lately?”
“Herded.’’
“You’re not alone.”
“What I mean. Takes more than one to make a herd; company’s no blessing, if it’s just that.”
“You right. Give me a drink?”
Daniel raised a brow. “You?”
“Did last night.”
“Why not.” He tossed the boy the skin, watched him drink, took it back and drank a draft himself. It was chilled, just the right temperature for the taste, a computerized cooler couldn’t have done better. Tungjii Luck. magic wineskin, what a world.
They ambled through sunny deserted streets, past shops whose keepers were gone off somewhere leaving a clerk behind to watch the stock and doze in the warmth and quiet. Lot day seemed to mean waiting for Owlyn Valers to burst loose with their warrant to spend what they wanted, freely as they wanted; the bills would be paid from Settsimaksimin’s pocket (which meant eventually from taxes and tariffs and fines). Jaril was silent and frowning, a small thundercloud of a boy.
“Can’t really fight gods,” he said suddenly, grave now, a touch of bitterness putting bite into his voice.
“Either they squash you right out or they sneak up on you and cut your legs off and you bleed to death.”
“Sneak up? That mean what I think it does?”
“Don’t know. The talismans Ahzurdan was talking about can make them do things. A good sorceror can block them out. Brann and us, we were mixed up in a fight between a clutch of witches and a god. She used Brann to get past their defenses. Complicated plot, took more than a year to set up, used maybe hundreds of people who didn’t know they were in it. Even looking back I couldn’t say who all was in it or how much what they did mattered in the blowup. You can’t win even if you win, they keep coming back at you, get you in the end. Or you die and they get you then.”
“You’ve got, what did you say? ninety centuries less a few.”
“Doesn’t matter, long as we’re stuck here, the end’s the same.”
“Gives you time to work out a way to get home.”
“Can’t go home. You heard what they call Brann.”
“Drinker of Souls. So?”
“You saw what we are, Yaril and me. Back home we drank from the sun. Slya, that’s the god I was telling you about, she changed us, then she helped us change Brann so Brann could feed us. We live on life energy, Daniel Akamarino; if anything happened to Brann, we’d starve.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because we’re frightened, Yaril and me. Him in the tower there, he’s strong, you don’t know how strong. He hasn’t exerted himself yet, not really, Yaril and me, we don’t know why, but even with those offhand tries, he nearly killed Brann twice and the second time Ah-zurdan was there and he stood like a stump doing nothing until Yaril singed his ear. We don’t like him, we don’t want him about, but Brann won’t send him away. Even when he tells her she should, she won’t. We don’t know why, but we’re afraid it’s because the gods messing with us won’t let her. You’re affined to him, Daniel Akamarino, but you’re a different sort of man.” Jaril gave him a twisted smile. “You don’t want to be in this, but you are. Yaril and me, we want you with us and ready to do something when Ahzurdan fails her.”
“Which reminds me. Since you’re in a talking mood, Jay, why am I let off the leash this morning when last night Brann wouldn’t let me out of the room without.Ahzurdan to babysit?”
They pressed up against a wall to let a heavily loaded mulecart clatter past heading uphill for the Market, then went round a corner and moved west along the busy waterfront road, dodging carts and carrypoles, vehemently gesturing traders, crowds of merchants with their clerks. The morning wasn’t quiet here, it was deafening, hot, dusty, filled with a thousand smells, ten thousand noises. Daniel pulled Jaril into a doorway to let a line of porters trot past. “Well?”
“Lot day,” Jaril said. “He’s always there. In the Yron. When the Lots are taken. He can’t overlook us without his mirror. He’ll be away from it for maybe another hour. And I’m here.” He giggled, amused at the thought. “I’m babysitting you.”
“Mmf.” Daniel left the doorway, sidled between two carts being loaded by men shouting jokes at each other, their overseers darting here and there, pushing shoving yelling orders that were obeyed when the men got around to it or ignored if they counted them silly. Runners not much older than Jaril seemed were darting about, carrying messages, small packages, orders, the shrill whistles that announced them adding to the crashing pounding noise that broke like surf against the walls of the warehouses. A few meters of this and Daniel sought an unoccupied doorway. “Jay, if you’re going to haunt me, can you do it as something besides a boy?”
“Why? Plenty of boys like me about.”
“I know. Just a feeling Laux will talk more without an extra pair of ears to take it in.”
“Hmm. Why not. Dog be all right?”
Daniel chuckled. “Nice big dog?”
“All teeth and no tail.”
The man and the big dog strolled the length of Water Street until they reached a quieter section and smaller boats, one of them a slim black ketch with a black and white flag hanging in silky folds that opened out a little whenever the fleeting breeze briefly strengthened. Hands clasped behind him, Daniel inspected the craft. “Wet and cold.” The dog nudged his leg. “All right, I give you. fast.” The boy dozing on the deck lifted his head when he heard the voice, squinted up at Daniel. Daniel produced one of his everyday smiles. “Where’s Laux?”
“Why?”
“Business. His.”
The boy patted a yawn and gazed through the fringe of dirty blonde hair falling over his eyes. After a minute, he shrugged. “Green Jug. Be back here a couple hours if you wanna wait.”