"You're a good man, Captain."
The man waved the compliment away. "Ye should save yer gold if'n
ye can. Or if ye have t' spend it, buy somethin' fer th' little beauty. Later. When ye's away from here."
Grinsa had to smile. "We will. Thank you."
"I won' be long," the man said, and left his ship.
With the captain gone, Pelton Fent took command of the vessel. He stood in the middle of the deck, not far from the Qirsi, his stout legs planted, his arms crossed over his barrel chest, and he watched the men, barking commands occasionally, but mostly letting the crew go about their work, just as the captain had done. He didn't so much as look at Grinsa or Cresenne, and the rest of the men, perhaps following his example, ignored them as well.
"What if he can't find us horses?" Cresenne asked after some time.
Grinsa shrugged. "We'll walk."
Cresenne actually laughed. "Even I'm not that desperate to get off the sea. -We'll sail farther."
He glanced at her, grinning. "Do you really need me for this conversation?"
"Who says I was talking to you? Right, Bryntelle?" She kissed the baby's belly, eliciting a loud squeal that drew the stares and smiles of several of the crew.
"We could do worse than to remain on this ship," Grinsa said, lowering his voice.
"I know. But I'd rather it didn't come to that."
A few moments later, Grinsa spied the captain making his way down the main road leading from the city walls to the wharf. He walked briskly, and as he stepped onto the pier, he caught Grinsa's eye and nodded.
"He's done it," the gleaner said.
Cresenne looked at him. "You're certain?"
He took her hand again. "Come on."
They walked to the gangway, meeting the captain just as he stepped onto the ship.
"Well, I've found ye two fine beasts," Rois said. "And at a fair price t' boot."
"Thank you, Captain. We're in your debt."
"Not at all. Th' farrier is a man named Dren Meigen. His shop's just off th' west end o' th' marketplace. Ye shouldn' have any trouble findin' it. I've found ye a bay and a dun-good animals both. Dren wanted eight sovereigns fifty fer each, but he owes me a favor-owed me, that is. I got 'im down t' twelve sovereigns even fer th' pair."
The captain said this last with some pride, and though Grinsa knew
as little about Southlands currency as he had about everything else in this strange land, he smiled and nodded.
"Well done, Captain. Thank you." He pulled out his money pouch again. "Will the farrier take Forelands money?"
Rois laughed. "Dren will take any coin ye give 'im. So will any other man or woman in th' markets here. Gold's gold, wherever it be from.
Twenty-five o' yer qinde ought t' do it. Tha's a bit on th' generous side, but close enough."
Grinsa nodded. Twenty-five qinde for a pair of horses wasn't a bad price, though in the Forelands it might not have been cause for quite as much satisfaction as he'd seen on the captain's face.
"Tell me, Captain. Will we need different coin when we reach Qirsi land?"
The man shook his head. "They take sovereigns, too. Or qinde. As I say, gold is gold. Th' clans tend t' trade in goods rather than gold, which may be why they's never had much use fer coin. But they'll take gold all right. Th' Talm'Orast and H'Bel seem t' collect it." He laughed, but seeing that Grinsa and Cresenne didn't understand the joke, he quickly grew serious again. "Anyway, yer fine with what ye got."
"Very well." He held out a hand, which the captain gripped. "Again, Captain, you have our thanks. May the Fortune Seeker always find helping winds and easy waters."
"I 'preciate that. Ye take care o' these lovelies now, ye hear?" He took
Cresenne's hand between both of his own and looked her in the eyes. He was about her height, but so powerfully built that she looked like a child beside him. "I know ye think we done ye wrong, ma'am. But I swears agin, it weren't on purpose."
"I believe you, Captain. And I'm grateful to you for finding us the mounts."
He grinned broadly at the baby and tapped her belly with a fat finger, drawing a giggle.
They left the ship and made their way up the pier toward the city.
And almost immediately upon reaching the cobblestone road leading to the gate, Grinsa knew that he was in an alien land. It wasn't just the stares, or the palpable hostility of those they encountered along the way, though they would have been enough to put both him and Cresenne on edge. In the cities of the Forelands, there had been ten Eandi for every one Qirsi. In smaller towns and country villages, the Qirsi had been even less of a presence. But no matter where one went, there were almost always a few Qirsi at least. One could look out across any marketplace and see amid the dark hair and dark eyes one or two pale figures, a shock of bone white hair, or a pair of flame-colored eyes.
But here, in this city, he saw none. Had he not known better he might have assumed, looking at the road and the city gate beyond it, that there were no Qirsi in all the Southlands. On the other hand, he could tell from the glares of the Eandi they encountered that the men and women of Yorl were very familiar with his people, and that this familiarity had bred little but contempt and fear. People actually stopped in their tracks to watch Grinsa and Cresenne walk by. No one said anything to them, but they didn't have to.
"What should we do?" Cresenne asked in a whisper.
"Just keep walking."
"But the gate."
"I know. We'll deal with it when we get there. The captain would have told us if they had laws barring Qirsi from entering the city" She glanced about nervously. "It's not the laws I'm afraid of." "Keep looking right in front of you," he told her. "Don't let them see that you're scared."
Cresenne's nod was almost imperceptible. They covered the rest of the distance without a word, stopping before the Eandi guards who blocked the path that led through the heavy stone gate. There were two of them, both dressed in uniforms that matched that purple and gold flag flying above the fortress and that bore the golden insignia of an eagle. They were large men, as tall as Grinsa, and powerfully built. Both wore helms and armor; both were armed with broadswords.
"What's yar business here, white-hair?" one of them asked, in the strange accent of the eastern Southlands. His eyes flicked for an instant to Cresenne and the baby, but then returned to Grinsa.
"We've just arrived on the Fortune Seeker-"
"That's no' what I asked. Ya intending t' stay here in Yorl, or are ya passin' through?"
"Passing through." Grinsa kept his voice even, but he didn't shy away from the man's gaze.
"What's yar name?"
"Grinsa jal Arriet."
"That's no' a Southlands name," the man said with a frown, though Grinsa had the sense that he wasn't really surprised.
"No, it's not. As I was trying to tell you a moment ago, we've just arrived on the Fortune Seeker from our home in the Forelands. We're new to Aelea, to all the Southlands, really."
"I see. What business d' ya have in th' city?"
"The Fortune Seeker's captain has arranged for us to buy two horses from a farrier here in Yorl. And we need to buy some food as well. After that, we'll be on our way."
The guard nodded, still eyeing him. He gave no indication, though, that he was ready to let them pass. "Ya have th' look of a Weaver, Grinsa."
Grinsa managed with some success to hide his surprise at this, but
Cresenne let out a small gasp. In the Forelands, where fear of Weavers ran so deep, most Eandi were remarkably ignorant about what it meant to be a Weaver. Grinsa had never met anyone among Ean's children who was familiar enough with Qirsi magic to identify a Weaver simply by appearance. If he needed any more proof that they were in a land vastly different from his home, here it was.