“Look, there’s some more knights!” Blister waggled her gnarled fingers toward the marketplace, indicating a trio of Legion of Steel knights who were questioning a merchant.
“Keep your voice down,” Dhamon urged. He drew Usha and Blister under an awning. “We don’t want to raise their suspicions. We’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to cause them to bother us,” he whispered. “In fact, they might be able to help us. But just in case...”
The knights moved on to another merchant and his shoppers, one stall closer.
“Let’s get to the harbor by another route, shall we? Just in case,” Usha suggested. “The Legion of Steel is honorable. It has protected the people in this town. But—”
“Just in case,” Blister finished.
The trio ducked around a corner and followed the dusty streets that wound between homes and scattered businesses. The buildings were large, some three stories tall, and made of stone with tiled roofs. Wood seemed to be scarce; even building signs and shutters were made of slate. A new home was being built on a narrow lot between two older structures. Since they’d arrived at Ak-Khurman, they’d noticed several new constructions.
“Doesn’t seem to be that many people,” Blister said. “Certainly not for all these buildings.”
“Anticipation,” Usha said. “This is one of the largest cities in Khur, and it’s the only one with a safe port.”
“So they figure more people will move here?” the kender asked.
Usha nodded. “Khur barbarians loyal to Neraka are driving people from the plains. The people have nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe.”
“And I thought the dragons were the only ones who did nasty things like that. Hey, Dhamon, when you were... you know... working for Malystryx, did she make you do nasty things?”
A tense look crossed Dhamon’s face. He had adroitly avoided talking about the time he spent under the dragon’s control, except to satisfy Gilthanas’s curiosity and win some measure of trust from the elf and Silvara. He lengthened his stride, and Usha and Blister had to hurry to keep up.
“Touchy,” the kender whispered to Usha. “He didn’t used to be so touchy, not when he had blond hair.”
The trio rounded another corner. The top of a lighthouse poked above the buildings that sprawled in front of them. Made of stone, it stretched high into the early morning sky. Khurman Tor, the lighthouse was called. The city had grown up around it. The local people had walled the city so barbarians and rampaging Neraka tribesmen would leave them alone, and they had stationed lookouts in the lighthouse to guard against threats coming from sea or land. The wall that swept around the city and down to the sea was twenty feet high and solid, with iron-bound gates manned by the Legion of Steel. Knights also walked these streets, chatting with merchants and passersby, questioning people they didn’t know.
Usha knew to expect the knights. Palin had researched the city before suggesting they meet Rig there and hire a ship. It wasn’t the site closest to the underwater realm of the sea elves, but it was the closest port not in dragon territory, and it offered a deep harbor.
They headed toward the harbor, selecting a street that cut through a small merchant district filled with butchers, bakers, and fishmongers. It was all Usha and Dhamon could do to keep Blister from darting into each shop to investigate inviting odors.
“Cinnamon,” the kender said, sniffing at a window. “Raisins, too. Apples.”
“We’ll have time for something to eat later,” Usha said. “I want to make sure we have enough steel to rent a good ship first.”
The kender cheerfully acquiesced. “And maybe we’ll even have enough left over to get Dhamon something else to wear. Something black to go with his hair. Or something a little brighter. Hey, Dhamon, did the red dragon ever—”
Dhamon scowled and walked faster still. Usha and Blister had to run to keep up with him.
The sounds of gulls crying and water gently lapping against the docks greeted them as they hurried down an especially dusty street that opened into Ak-Khurman’s bustling wharf district. The hot breeze that blew in from the ocean washed over them and loosed graying hair from Blister’s braid.
A small fortress stood on the northeastern side of the waterfront. Several Legion of Steel knights milled around outside it. There were more knights on the docks. Despite the number of people roaming the waterfront, there appeared to be no sailors or ship captains. Indeed, there were no ships moored to the docks.
But there was evidence of vessels. Usha noticed them first. Jutting barely above the waterline were several broken masts. Bits of mastheads and rigging floated in the shallow water, caught in the roots of the willows that edged the bank. Blister counted at least twelve sunken ships.
Farther out in the harbor were anchored a half-dozen ships, among them two impressive galleys. Each flew a black flag with the death lily emblem.
“Dark Knights,” Usha whispered. “Palin said the Legion of Steel ran this town.”
“They do,” Dhamon said solemnly. “But the Knights of Takhisis have blockaded it. That’s probably why the Legion of Steel knights were questioning so many people. They are looking for Dark Knight spies or sympathizers.”
“Palin couldn’t have known,” Usha continued. “He would’ve sent us somewhere else.”
“Skulls and crossbones would make me feel a whole lot better than death lilies.” Blister wrinkled her nose. “Rig was a pirate once, and I bet we could deal with pirates better than with those black knights. Wonder if the knights sunk the ships?”
“I’d bet on it,” Dhamon said grimly.
The kender put her hands on her hips and pouted. “Now how’re we gonna get to Dimernesti? Swim?”
There wasn’t a table large enough for all of them in The Flowing Flagon, so Rig and Fiona sat alone at a small table against the back wall. She had donned the rest of her armor, and presented a sharp contrast to the mariner, whose clothes hung on him in tatters.
Jasper, Groller, and Feril hugged one side of the long table near the window, all of them looking like ragged beggars. Blister, Usha, and Dhamon, dressed in new clothes, occupied the other side, picking at the food on their plates—their second meal of the day—while their companions made short work of what was in front of them.
When the companions were reunited on the waterfront just after sunset, Rig had slammed his fist into the side of Dhamon’s face. It took Jasper and Usha to keep him from drawing a dagger. The mariner refused to listen to Dhamon’s explanations about being under Malystryx’s control. However, he paid a little more attention to Blister and Usha as they relayed what Silvara told them about Dhamon and the shadow dragon. As he ate his mutton, Rig glared at Dhamon and mouthed “later.”
The others guardedly welcomed Dhamon. Jasper was the friendliest. He looked up from his meal and offered Dhamon a smile.
“I don’t like the way people are lookin’ at us, Fiona,” Rig said. “See ’em? Just staring—at us and at them.” He pointed to Dhamon’s end of the table.
“Maybe it’s the clothes some of us are wearing,” Fiona suggested. “This place doesn’t cater to the most well-to-do Ak-Khurmans, but on the other hand, the rest of the customers are far better dressed than you and—”
“My clothes?” Rig snorted.
“Or maybe it’s mine.” Her armor gleamed in the light of the oil lamp on the wall.
“Maybe they think I’m your prisoner.”
“So I’ve captured you, eh?” She smiled slyly. “Maybe, Rig Mer-Krel, they’re looking at us just because they’re nosy. We’re outsiders here. Obvious strangers. These days you can’t trust strangers.”
Rig’s eyes narrowed, and he made sure Dhamon caught his look. “Sometimes you can’t trust people you thought were your friends.”
Fiona ran her fingers up his arm, drawing his attention to her, for a few moments, at least. Then Rig glanced around the room again.