“A good reason to stay away from him. Are you planning on going ashore tomorrow?”
“Yes. All of us are to do a little shopping,” I said to clarify my answer and hopefully to throw a little confusion on the issue. I didn’t want to come across as someone who would throw a man overboard.
Hannah said, “If you must go there, be careful. The city is full of people wanting to rob visitors. Wear a visible weapon and be prepared to use it—or remain on board. Nobody will think less of you for doing so.”
Her suggestions were reasonable and made sense. Too bad I’d ignore them. Well, not all of them, but most. We said goodnight and I went to my cabin and slept as well as any night in my past. On the way, I spoke to three people, so they would remember me, and told each I was going to my cabin early.
The next morning, I was at the rail at the stern where passengers above deck were again regulated to one small space, so we’d be out of the way of the working crew. It was either that, remain in my poor excuse for a cabin, sit in the drab dining room, or the closed-in salon. We sailed into the Bay of Trager as I waited for the girls to appear.
The salon map had not done it justice as far as size goes to the bay. The two points of land that allowed passage were so narrow a rowboat could easily cross them. Beyond was a body of water so large the far shore could barely be seen. Off to our left, which would be south, rose mountains that stood tall, reaching almost to the edge of the water. At least, that was the first impression.
In front of the mountains spread a city on the sliver of level ground between the mountains and the water. Fingers of dozens of piers extended into the bay, where one lone ship was tied. As we lowered our sails, a pair of longboats manned by several rowers headed our way. Soon, our sails were furled, and the ship was pulled by ropes attached to the longboats.
The Gallant was tied to a pier, and a gangplank set. The purser again stood at the top, a clipboard and pen in hand. I wondered if he would record that the man who had fallen overboard was missing. There had not been any mention of him or questions asked. His belongings would still be in his cabin, and sooner or later they would be discovered. If we were lucky, people would think that he went ashore and never returned, so some foul deed had struck him there. My instinct was to help that idea by mentioning seeing him ashore but decided that might cast a shadow on me. Best to remain silent.
Kendra found her way to me, the girls lagging behind, smiling, giggling and wide-eyed. She handed me my sword, and I belted it on and instantly felt better. She hadn’t brought my bow.
The slopes of the mountains behind Trager were green with trees, but the air felt dry and the sky clear. It was hotter than at any time in Dire, which near Crestfallen was often damp, chilly, and cloudy. A light jacket was normal most of the year, and a heavy one in winter.
The contrast meant we’d leave our jackets on board, which would make my sword stand out. She had removed the arrows from the scabbard, so it puckered along the rear edge where the modification had been made and appeared poorly constructed. That was fine with me. An expensive scabbard or sword drew attention.
After I belted it on and adjusted it where it rode comfortably on my hip, my eyes found Will, who nodded slightly as he turned his face away. There was no sign he wore any weapons, but they would be there. He would probably remain close to us as long as we were off the ship. I still hadn’t told Kendra more than the barest of facts about him, and nothing of the man who fell overboard.
Emma and Anna were increasingly excited, talking among themselves, but now and then said words in our language. Their ability to adapt and learn amazed us. We followed other passengers ashore after each spoke to the purser before leaving. When our turn arrived, he repeated what he’d told the others in a bored tone, his eyes never lifting to look at us.
“Trager is considered a dangerous port. Be careful and trust nobody. The ship will sail at sunset. Any passengers who are not on board will be left here, and no refunds will be made. Another ship may not arrive for days or weeks, and it may not have cabins for you. Please be here long before sundown to guarantee your safe passage.”
The information was appreciated, and the fact he didn’t ask about a missing man was also good news. We bounced across the gangplank to the pier with rotting wood planks. Several had broken and hadn’t been replaced. We walked by stepping near the edges where the wood seemed most solid.
The air of frantic activity that had permeated at the Port of Mercia was missing. No vendors were selling food or trinkets. Only a few dull eyes watched us depart.
I turned to the city, or what I could see of it. As expected, the buildings were made of wood, weathered gray, unpainted for the most part. The few that had existing remnants of paint were chipped, faded, and old. The streets were narrower than the alleys in Dire. There were no raised walks for pedestrians, and there were few wagons or animals in the streets to compete for space.
“Guide?” a cripple asked as we neared him. “An honest guide?”
“Directions to the city square or bazaar?” I said.
The man pointed, then looked to the next passengers to offer his services. I tossed him a small copper, which he grabbed from the air like a starving man might grab a slice of bread. He looked at it and said as he held it out for me to retrieve, “This is what I charge for being a guide all day, sir. A tenth is more than enough. I do not need your pity.”
My instinct was to tell him to keep it, but why do that? “There will be another at the end of our day, guide. Come. Show us the way.”
He stood up, a crutch under one armpit, and he kept up with us as he hobbled on his good leg. It made me feel guilty, but he didn’t ask for consideration, and I gave none. We walked along the waterfront for a way, then took one of the few wider streets up the side of the hill to a flat area. It had once been a flourishing city square at one time, I suspected.
The square was paved with flagstones the size of wagon beds, the square as large an area for daily commerce as any in Dire. However, now tall grass, weeds, and even small trees grew between the flagstones. Directly ahead of us, a tangle of thorny vines spread along the flagstones that we went around. Beyond them stood the first of a dozen tattered stalls in an area large enough to hold hundreds.
“Is this it?” Kendra asked.
The cripple looked around and said with a toothy smile, “More sellers are here today than usual. They must have heard a ship came in and brought all they have to sell.”
Kendra drew a deep breath and headed for the first kiosk. I walked ahead of the cripple and asked Kendra softly, “Any mages nearby?”
“None.”
Anna caught up as we reached the first stall, which displayed a variety of dented and battered cooking pots. Her eyes were excited, and she raced to examine a tall copper pot good for boiling laundry. The seller didn’t bother standing or trying to convince us of the quality of her pots. She simply watched us move her along to the next stall, one that sold used clothing. Emma now walked with me, holding onto my index finger as she tried keeping in step with me, taking two for every one of mine. I varied my stride to make it harder and she giggled.
I slowed and took shorter steps as I looked at the trash for sale. I asked the cripple, “Are there any shops that sell new?”
He slowly shook his head.
“None?” I asked unbelievingly.
“Upper Trager has a few, they say. But travelers and us who live here aren’t allowed up there.”
I glanced at Kendra. “Upper Trager? I haven’t heard that term.”
He pointed higher up the slope of the hill, to another part of the city.