‘All right, now can we talk?’
‘Soon,’ said the man. ‘I will have the servers bring you drink.’
‘We’re not thirsty,’ said Lorn angrily, but it was too late. Already the man had exited into the crowd. Lorn looked around suspiciously. ‘Be wary,’ he told the others. ‘Coming here might have been a mistake.’
Garthel and young Bezarak both nodded, but could really do nothing to protect themselves. If it were a trap, it had already been sprung. A moment later a man appeared and set tiny white cups down on their table, along with a steaming urn of inky liquid. Seeing they were foreigners, the server smiled and tried to explain things.
‘Shrana,’ he said.
Garthel pointed at the urn. ‘Shrana? This?’
The servant nodded, then began to pour each of them some of the pungent drink.
‘Beer?’ Lorn asked the man hopefully.
But the servant shook his head. ‘Shrana.’
Lorn sighed and picked up his cup. ‘Shrana.’ He took a sip of the hot drink and was shocked by its peppery taste. ‘Fate alive, that’s foul,’ he gasped. ‘Don’t drink it.’
But Bezarak was already drinking, and seemingly enjoying it. ‘Hot,’ he commented. ‘But good!’
‘Good?’ Lorn pushed his cup toward the young man. ‘Then have mine.’
They sat like that for a long while, drinking or just taking in the sights of the shrana house. To Lorn’s relief, none of the other patrons had taken great interest in them. Most simply went about relaxing, drinking shrana or smoking tobacco out of water pipes. Finally, the man who had led them here reappeared. This time, though, he was not alone. Another man of Ganjor accompanied him to their table, this one oddly dressed in a combination of desert clothes and northern garb. He was dark-skinned and dark-eyed, and not at all young, but there was virtue in his face that put Lorn at ease.
‘These are the men, Kamag,’ said the man whom they’d first met. ‘The Seekers.’
Kamag — if that was his name — sat down at the table between Lorn and Garthel. The other man sat, too. As they made themselves comfortable, the one in northern dress snapped his fingers in the air, instantly summoning back the servant. After some quick words in Ganjeese the servant brought two more cups. Kamag shooed him away before he could pour, doing the honour himself.
‘You do not like our shrana,’ he said to Lorn, grinning.
‘If I were a maggot, perhaps I could drink it,’ said Lorn impatiently.
‘That is a shame. I own this place, you see.’ Kamag took a sip from his cup, sighed as if it were the most delicious stuff in the world, then looked at Lorn seriously. ‘My name is Kamag,’ he said flatly. ‘This man is named Dahj. You are?’
‘In a very ill mood,’ said Lorn.
‘And confused,’ Garthel added. ‘Why have you brought us here?’
‘As Dahj said, to help you,’ said Kamag. ‘You are looking for Mount Believer. That makes you trouble to some. We want to protect you.’
Lorn’s patience was all but depleted. ‘Protect us from what?’
‘From a man named Prince Aztar. Have you heard of him?’
Lorn shook his head.
‘Believe me, if you cross the desert now you will.’ Kamag leaned in closer, keeping his tone measured. ‘Prince Aztar is the ruler of the desert. At least that’s what he claims. And he cares very little for northerners like you. If he finds you trying to reach Jador, he will kill you.’
‘We’re not afraid,’ said Lorn. ‘We’ve already faced worse than this dog Aztar.’
‘I doubt that, my friend,’ said Kamag. ‘If we thought you were enough to best Aztar, we would let you try. Aztar has an army, ever growing. And you have. . what?’ He looked at Dahj.
‘There are thirty of them, maybe less,’ Dahj replied.
‘Thirty.’ There was mockery in Kamag’s voice. ‘Not enough to best an army, I don’t think.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lorn protested. ‘You’re Ganjeese — why are you telling this to us?’
‘Yes, we’re Ganjeese,’ said Dahj. ‘But Aztar is not. He is Voruni.’
‘I don’t know what that means,’ said Lorn.
‘The Voruni are tribesmen of the desert,’ explained Kamag. ‘They live in the desert, make their home there. They are not part of our city. And they hate northerners, and people like me who do not hate northerners.’
‘Ah,’ said Lorn, understanding at last. ‘They think you are traitors.’
Kamag nodded. ‘To them we are infidels, no better than you. Because we do business with the northern lands, because we count your people among our friends, we are all in danger from Aztar and his army.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ said Bezarak. ‘Why are you helping us? You don’t even know us.’
‘Because we have been asked to help you,’ said Kamag. He leaned back. ‘And that is all you need to know.’
‘You are mistaken,’ said Lorn. ‘We want some answers.’
‘I cannot tell you more than I have already,’ Kamag insisted. ‘We can only warn you and offer you shelter until you are ready to head back north.’
Bezarak’s brows shot up. ‘Head back? We’re not heading back north. We’re going to Mount Believer. Right, Lorn?’
Lorn remained steely as he looked at Kamag. ‘That’s right.’ Neither Ganjeese man seemed to notice the use of his name, and Lorn no longer really cared. ‘We’ve come too far to turn back now. We’re going on, just as soon as we’ve rested.’
‘You have not heard me,’ said Kamag, his ire rising. ‘You cannot cross the Desert of Tears. Aztar and his men will kill you before you ever reach Jador.’
‘Who are you protecting really?’ asked Lorn. ‘Who really wants to keep us here?’
Kamag was tight-lipped. ‘That does not matter.’
‘Yet you expect us to trust you.’
‘For your own good, yes.’ The owner of the shrana house looked around, then lowered his voice. ‘There is another, someone you must never know, someone who wants to protect you.’
‘To protect all the Seekers,’ Dahj clarified. ‘But we cannot tell you who this person is. To do so would jeopardise her.’
‘A woman?’ Lorn nodded, impressed. ‘This mysterious benefactor — you work for her?’
‘Not directly, no,’ said Kamag. ‘We work together to keep the Seekers safe, so they are not slaughtered by Aztar, and so Aztar’s ideas do not take hold in our city. We are not all alike, we Ganjeese. We are not all like Aztar.’
Dahj added quickly, ‘Aztar is a dangerous man, and if he gains importance here our way of life will end. All of us — me, Kamag, and the woman — do not wish such change here, or to see people like you suffer at his hand.’ He looked at each of the northerners, his eyes imploring. ‘Friends, you must not cross the desert. To do so — especially now — would be your doom.’
‘At least wait before trying,’ urged Kamag. ‘Now is an extremely unsafe time.’
‘Why?’ asked Garthel.
Kamag thought before answering, and Lorn could tell he was hiding something. ‘Because Aztar’s presence in the area is strong now. He has been in Ganjor recently. He still has men here. If you do not keep out of sight, you may be in peril.’
The news further confused Lorn. For a reason he could not explain, he trusted the two strangers. There was sincerity in their faces. Garthel looked at him, wondering what they should do. Bezarak sat silently with a frown on his face.
‘We cannot wait more than a day,’ said Lorn at last. ‘We must get to Mount Believer. Too much depends on it. But we will think on what you have told us.’
Kamag’s disapproval was obvious. ‘That is a mistake,’ he warned. ‘Please, reconsider. Here you are safe, but if you attempt to cross the desert-’
‘I have heard you,’ Lorn interrupted. ‘As I said, I will consider what you’ve told us.’
The innkeeper sighed. ‘You are a very stubborn man, Liirian.’
‘I’m not Liirian,’ said Lorn suddenly. ‘I’m a Norvan, and Norvans do not frighten easily. Should this Aztar try and harm us, he will find that out for himself.’
‘He will skin you alive while you beg for your life,’ countered Kamag, ‘but if that is your insistence I cannot stop you. Have at least a care, though. There are rooms for you here. You and your companions will be safe here until you leave.’