“Let me go first.” Shiv had his own evil-minded horse firmly in hand now Halice had taken the stitches out of his arm and I let him take the lead gladly. The thick-necked beast shouldered a brace of neat-footed mules aside and I slipped in behind, ignoring their owner’s oaths. I was glad Viltred’s horse did not have the brain to be unsettled by the chaos as I saw Livak having to take the harness horse by the bridle to help get it moving. Halice snapped the whip over its ears and it skipped forward reluctantly.
“How long will we have to wait for a ferry?” I shouted above the racket as we drew to a halt by the weed-draped wooden walkway, now beached on the noisome mud as the tide drew the river down into the central channel.
Livak shrugged. “Anything up to a full chime, probably.”
As she spoke the sound of bells carried across the turbid waters.
“I do like to be somewhere with proper clocks and regular chimes,” she commented. I had to agree my own city-bred blood preferred it.
As it turned out, we crossed the river in less time than I had feared, for once I had the measure of the press of traffic I slipped ahead to greet the lading-master, giving him a warm handshake with a Caladhrian Mark in it. When a carrier’s coach rattled down the walkway to the broad, flat deck of a ferry, leaving just enough room for us and our gig, he waved us on ahead of a very put-out wine merchant.
“That was lucky,” Shiv commented.
“No such thing.” I shook my head. “The trick is knowing how things get done on a dockside.”
We stood at the rail and watched the gangs of shackled and sweating slaves pushed forward into their oaken staves to drive the giant capstans that wound the great chains carrying the ferry across the dark and swirling waters of the river, the bustle of traffic waiting to leave the city seething behind them. Mud-covered children skipped and scavenged among the detritus on the exposed flats, hurrying to the ferry as it drew close to the shore, little hands upturned for any coppers.
“You’d think they’d build a real bridge nowadays,” Viltred remarked sourly. “On the Caladhrian side at least.”
Halice joined us, her limp more in evidence than usual thanks to Shiv’s horse treading on her sound foot.
“You can get fined for that kind of talk,” she warned. “Relshazris take their independence very seriously and the river’s saved them more than once. Anyone trying to build a bridge here gets executed.”
I nodded, “I’d heard that—”
“When we get clear of the ferry, we will be heading for the Arril district,” Viltred interrupted with an air of importance. “I’ll drive,” he added, turning his back on Halice to climb into the gig.
“Where are we going?” I asked with some surprise.
“I have quite a few contacts here,” smiled Viltred with a somewhat irritating superiority.
“So do Livak and I,” said Halice mildly, yielding the reins without fuss.
“That’s right.” Livak spurred her horse forward when it threatened to balk at the planks of the walkway. “It’ll save time if we split up; we’ll see what we can find out and meet you—where?”
“No, absolutely not,” Shiv spoke over her decisively. “Let’s stick together for the moment. There are some people I have to talk to before I decide what we do next. In the meantime, I don’t want to alert anyone who might have a loose mouth to our presence here.”
Livak exchanged a glance with Halice that suggested they were going to take this about as readily as a purse of Lescari Marks. I’d have to keep an eye on the pair of them, I decided; Livak had a real problem with taking orders, I knew that, even from someone as easy-going as Shiv. I looked across as she stood staring down into the nameless debris that the water was bringing back to the end of the floating jetty. How were we ever going to reconcile my oaths and duty with her stubborn independence and love of life in the margins? The carrier’s coach took its weary passengers off on the last leg of their journey and we soon cleared the ferry area. Halice and Livak exchanged a quiet word and rueful glance at Shiv’s back as we passed an inn whose sign was a plume of feathers.
“Good ale there?” I inquired casually.
“Good ale,” confirmed Halice. “Reasonably honest gambling, fairly safe beds and generally reliable information as well.”
“Wizards’ fancy magic is all very well,” Livak edged her horse closer to mine. “I’d like to back it up with some local knowledge bought and paid for.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” I looked around curiously. “How well do you know Relshaz?”
“We’ve been here a couple of times over the last year or so.” Livak reined in her horse suddenly as a man stumbled in front of her. “Festival gambling mostly, it depends how the runes are turning. The thing is, we know people here and they know us.”
“Make sure you tell Shiv,” I said firmly.
“Is he going to listen?” countered Livak sourly.
Viltred wove the gig through the busy streets, pausing frequently as traffic bunched around the narrow bridges crossing Relshaz’s innumerable canals. I have to say, the more I saw, the less and less impressed I became. Close up, the famous White City of the Gulf is distinctly grubby and chipped, especially on the landward side. I saw green stains smudging the painted walls and garbage in the waters, the smell rising with the temperature as the sun climbed. Furtive beggars lurked in the shadows of narrow alleys and entries and I was glad we hadn’t arrived at night. I sat straighter in my saddle and twitched my cloak back from my shoulder to clear my sword to deter anyone who might be thinking of trying his luck.
We entered an area of warehouses, manufacturies, stores being winched to the tops of tall buildings by teams of horses sweating to draw ropes through lines of pulleys. Women moved handcarts of identical sections of furniture and metal-work, segments of tables, chair legs, all on their way to the next workshop for the following artisan to earn his pittance at piece work. Children ran messages, held horses, swept crossings. The press of traffic distanced Livak and me from the gig a little and I tugged at her sleeve to get her attention.
“What’s the Arril district like?”
Livak shook her head. “I don’t know it, not as such; I’m usually in and around the inns and gambling houses and the Arril quarter is strictly solid houses for respectable merchants and the like. We manage the odd venture into the smart addresses along the Gulf front, but that’s about it.”
“Where do you suppose some Ice Islanders would be making a den in this labyrinth?”
“Any one of a handful of places.” Livak turned to look at me, her expression intense. “Halice and I know people who could find out. Shiv’s got to let us use our contacts.”
Viltred took a side street, the gig bouncing over the cobbles between tall houses that promised rather better things of the city. The white shining walls of the brick houses were freshly painted, their balconies already bright with pots of flowers and noisy with people enjoying the sunshine. Women dressed in fine silks passed us with clean and sometimes cheerful children in tow as they bargained with hucksters, gossiped with friends and ordered their servants around.
Viltred halted in front of a broad, high gate set in a wall of fine-dressed stone and climbed down stiffly from his seat. “Wait here.”
His knock was answered almost immediately by a neatly uniformed porter.
“Please tell Madame that Viltred Sern is here,” said the old man in flawless Relshazri and with a courtly air that seemed to add five fingers to his meager height. I realized with some surprise that this was his native tongue; given the fluency of his Caladhrian, I’d assumed that was his birthplace.