Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mornaport

Sade and Vondales followed the sails of ships on the trade routes because neither of them had ever had a lesson in navigation. Sade kept replenishing the mage wind hour after hour. He had never called upon his powers so much and was quickly learning that fatigue could come from the use of magic just as it could come from physical exertion. He slept stretched out across a thwart whenever he could. At night they steered as close as possible to other vessels in order to keep the faint glow of their sails visible in the moonlight. By dawn they would distance themselves again but never so far as to lose sight of the sails. Sade was thankful he had packed the waterskin because they would have died of thirst out on the salt sea for the three days it took them to spot land.

When they had, it presented them with further decisions like where to come ashore.

“We could come ashore outside of town and hide the boat,” Vondales said.

But Sade differed. “How would we hide it? It is too big for us to haul onshore. It will be safer at a public dock.”

They had a few coins left between them that Sade hoped would pay at least for a few hours on the port. He leafed through each of his books trying to decide which one he might sell. He hated to part with any of them, but they were the only things of value they had between them and they needed to eat. Sade had not been so famished and weak with hunger since the days after their mother had died and they had eaten scraps of their own clothing. He hoped to buy some fishing tackle or even a crab pot and bait so that they might be able to feed themselves. It would be a meager existence but it would provide them some sort of start towards self-sufficiency.

They were not even sure of which island it was that they pulled into, but by the size and number of boats—at least sixty—Sade guessed it was Greatport, the capital of the Rowess Isles and seat of government for the whole of the archipelago. A large city might be good to disappear in, he thought, but on the other hand there would be no shortage of lawmen about to enforce order and give two murdering thieves pause.

Whalers, cargo cutters, and fishing boats all rocked on the harbor’s waves. Even far out on the water Sade and his brother could hear the commotion of the port. It was so much bigger than anything they had ever seen before. The crush of people on the shore carrying crates, hauling nets, bartering and trading for goods, made the mob that followed them on Linusport appear small and insignificant by comparison.

“I never imagined there were so many people in the world,” Vondales said from the bow, looking back at Sade who was working the tiller. He let the mage wind drop so as not to attract too much attention and sailed into the harbor on the world’s wind. But he soon found he lacked the skill required to dock their craft at the pier. He whispered a final incantation to push the craft close enough that a dockhand tossed a line to them. Vondales pulled them in the rest of the way, the dockhand’s eyes lingering on the spell book open across Sade’s lap.

“How much to dock?” Sade asked the dockhand as he closed the book. The dockhand was not much older than them, with just a feathering of a beard along his chin and under his nose. He responded in an accent that was so thick that Sade had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Ninety pence,” he said, slowly articulating the syllables.

Sade haggled with him down to forty-five if they left before sundown when the fishing vessels would return. Sade proposed that they shove off and simply sleep the night floating in the harbor. The dockhand was satisfied, took his forty-five pence, and was off to tend to other boats. Sade and Vondales were left on the dock feeling bewildered by the crowds of people, the strange accents, and the jumble of city buildings waiting for them on the shore. Food was their first priority and Sade called back the dockhand and paid him an extra two pence for information on the best places to buy food and fishing tackle. The boy offered the names of a few shops, but again, his accent was so thick Sade barely caught the words. Instead, he continued down the dock, reluctant to ask the boy to repeat himself. Vondales kept close to Sade’s heels as they made their way. Sade tried to look as if he knew where he was going. After all a port was a port and it shouldn’t be too hard to find a trader selling fried fish or fresh bread from a booth. He could see some of the longshoremen eyeing them suspiciously as they neared the end of the dock. Sade told his brother to take his hand off the handle of the hatchet he had stuffed into his belt. “You don’t see anyone else walking around that way. Be casual or we’ll attract attention.”

They walked three piers over, Sade inquiring from sellers how much for a finger of fried fish. When he was satisfied he could haggle them no lower, he paid and the two of them sat up against a seawall and watched the mass of humanity pass by. Sade studied men and women of all ages as they went about their business. Against the wall, out of the stream of people, they were ignored. They might as well have been invisible. It was an anonymity Sade liked, but it did not suit Vondales. “Let’s go back to the boat and eat,” his brother said.

Sade understood why his brother yearned for the familiar. The flipside of anonymity was a heavy sense of loneliness. This place felt foreign. Sade was tempted to indulge his brother when a boy about Vondales’ age—maybe younger—with red hair and a spray of freckles across his face walked up to them and offered to sell them grilled corn on the cob. Sade was still hungry and he saw the way his brother leaned forward and pursed his lips at the prospect.

“How much?”

“Twenty pence,” the boy said in high friendly voice that came out like a chirp.

“That’s robbery,” Sade said. “I’d give you two.”

“We could agree on twelve.”

“Five.”

“Ten.”

“Give it here then,” Sade said, offering the coins. The boy laughed. “I took you two for just off the boat. You are more canny than I thought though.”

“We have just arrived,” Vondales said. Sade immediately shot him a look of ire.

“But we’ve been here to Greatport before,” Sade said.

“Have you now? Then you would know this ain’t Greatport but Mornaport.”

Sade felt his face flush. The boy politely spoke up to cover his embarrassment. “No harm done, your accents and clothes mark you as just arriving here.”

“Do they?” Sade said with more malice in his voice than he intended. He was self-conscious and this boy made him feel small and backwards. Of course, they had just seen their first big port and by virtue of it simply being larger than Linusport they had taken it for the capital.

What hay-heads we are.

The boy offered them a third ear of corn. “Here, this one is free. Welcome to Mornaport and the Isle of Praun.”

Now at least they knew where they were. Sade was hesitant to accept gifts from a stranger, but the boy was cordial enough and he was still hungry himself. He also did not want to offend a potential ally.

“I’d rather have information.”

“Take it. Your friend here looks as if he needs it. Information is free. Mornaport is a friendly one.”

Vondales looked at him with hungry eyes and he nodded. Vondales took the ear of corn, broke it in half, and held out the larger half to Sade. Sade took the smaller one. He never would have admitted it but he relished giving his brother small treats. By the way Vondales bit into the corn, Sade knew his brother was grateful for his generosity.

“I’m Timos,” the boy said, extending his hand. Sade shook it and introduced themselves as Patrick and Gerry. Timos was unsuspecting. He had no more ears left and he shook out his basket, a few stray kernels falling to the muddy ground.

“Where can we sell something, Timos?”

“What is it you want to sell?” Timos’ eyes dipped down towards Sade’s satchel.

“Books,” Sade said carefully. “Spells books we think, for weather working.”

“Oh you can sell those at the market. I’ll show you the way. I’m headed through there anyway.”

Timos started down the seawall without looking back to see if they followed. Vondales gave Sade a questioning look.

“He seems harmless enough,” Sade said. “Can’t hurt to follow him, learn the port a bit better.”

They caught up with Timos as he was about to disappear into the crowd. They wove between fishmongers selling their catch, women shucking oysters, and girls carrying water on their heads. The sight of the girls reminded Sade of the girl he had run down in Linusport, but he dug his nails into the meat of his hands and suppressed the feelings that troubled him. Instead he focused on the bustle of the port and the characters around them. Timos passed through the crowd with barely a glance but Sade was taken with the variety of people, young, old, rich, poor, strong, and weak. His attention fell on a trio of armed men escorting a harbor master who was collecting fees from the bigger ships. They were fell looking warriors armed with maces and axes, but they were nothing compared to the dozen spearmen that crossed the market square protecting a liter carried by six slaves.

“Who’s in there?” Sade asked.

“Not who but what,” Timos said. “It’s a spice shipment, more precious than gold.”

The streets were dirty with horse droppings and fish offal. These mixed with the smell of sweat, cooking oil, and tobacco into a heady aroma that made Sade’s eyes water. He missed the fresh air of the sea. Timos turned down an alleyway, hopping over the gutter in the center. He stopped by a shuttered window and knocked.

“Tis the house of ladies,” he said. “They will show you their tits for five pence.”

Vondales was pressing up against him just as the shutters opened. A young girl, just a few years older than them, in a loose fitting saffron dress waited on the other side. Sade couldn’t help his eyes from falling on the cleavage between her ample breasts.

“Timos, how is the day? You have friends,” she said.

“Patrick and Gerry, meet Germaine.” He reached in his pocket and placed a five-pence coin on the sill. “We were hoping for a show.”

To Sade’s wonderment, the girl did not take offence and instead unbuttoned her top to let her breasts with their flowery pink nipples spill out. Vondales pushed him off balance as he craned for a better look. She turned her shoulders to point one, then the other, in their direction. With her hands she massaged and squeezed them in a way Sade thought impossible.

Timos glanced sideways. “Want to see more?”

“Yes,” Sade heard himself say.

Timos escorted them down the alleyway through a door that led to a dark hallway. The smell of perfume touched Sade’s nose and was as beautiful and desirable as the smells of the city outside were detestable. They came into a long room where girls reclined on couches and Germaine was turning back from the window and pulling the shutters closed.

“What have you brought us, Timos?” said a woman who, by her features, could have been Germaine’s sister.

“These are Patrick and Gerry, two friends I made at the port today. We’re on our way to the book market.” The older woman, her chest breathtaking, loosed a lace on her bodice and twirled it about her finger.

“Oh, are you in a rush or do you have time to play?”

Sade could not believe their good fortune; he answered that they did. The girls seated them on the couches, Germaine, her sister, and a olive-skinned girl with long flowing black hair surrounded them, bare chested. Sade did not know where to look. He saw such paradise in all directions, such perfection. He felt warm and shook as if he might explode, faint, or both. A fourth girl, a younger one with auburn hair, came over, unlaced her top and handed Sade and his brother goblets of grog.

“Men on men’s business need a man’s drink,” she said.

“Of course,” Sade said, gulping down the mix of rum and water. It bathed his chest in a warm glow. His limbs no longer felt like they would tremble off. His brother had bravely reached out to squeeze Germaine’s breast. She giggled and sighed. Sade took a second drink then lifted his head closer, closer—he wanted to touch one with his mouth. He no longer was self-conscious, but the room was spinning violently. The objects of his desire seemed to recede just out of his reach, and darkness closed in on the sides.

When they woke on the beach under a pier, all their possessions—satchel, books, hatchet, change purse—were gone. Even their shoes and the buttons on their jackets had been stolen. They had nothing left but the clothes on their backs.