The King's Blood(148)

The docks of Suddapal spread out before them, piers running out into the wide blue water like bridges so long that Marcus could imagine walking to Lyoneia. After Timzinae, the most common race in Suddapal were the Yemmu like this man, thick, strong, intimidating to look at, but for the most part nicer than Pyk Usterhall. It was good to be reminded that the woman’s irritating nature was her own and not her people’s.

“We aren’t expecting difficult waters,” Master Kit said. “I understand that the worst of the storm season is over, and the maps I’ve seen show the current carrying us quite near our destination.”

“Maps you’ve seen,” the Yemmu said. “So you’ve never been there.”

“No.”

The man nodded his massive head.

“You’re a pair of idiots,” he said.

“Friendly, though,” Master Kit said. “And I do have a certain amount of gold.”

“Gold sinks,” the Yemmu said. “I don’t mind taking your coin, but I start feeling guilty when I let idiots die. Here’s what I will do, though. Small finder’s fee. Nothing you can’t afford. I’ll find you a ship and someone that knows how to use it.”

Marcus looked at Master Kit. The actor frowned.

“I hesitate to take anyone with us,” Master Kit said. “Our business is sensitive.”

“You know what else is sensitive? My—”

“I’m afraid that what we’re doing might be dangerous,” Master Kit said.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Kit,” Marcus said. “Give the man his fee. If we find something that’ll work, we’re not obligated to wait. If we don’t, that’s a fine second best.”

Kit sighed, counted out seven silver coins, and pushed them across the table. The Yemmu man took them, nodded once, and heaved himself up and away. Marcus watched him lumbering away from them down the docks.

“You think he’ll really look for someone?” Marcus asked.

“He will,” Kit said. “I wouldn’t have given him the money otherwise.”

“Right, you can tell,” Marcus said. “I keep forgetting about that.”

One of the curiosities of Suddapal was the utter lack of inns and wayhouses. There were travelers, but negotiating shelter was a matter of knocking on doors until someone with a spare room or space in a shed was willing to reach agreement. In good weather, they went to a great common green in the middle of the city and set up camp there just as they would have on the road. Timzinae boys walked the green from dusk until late into the night selling baked fish and goat in bowls made from turtle shells. The horizon was clear and the smell of the sea air so clean and unthreatening that they put their bedrolls out without the bother of the little lean-to tent. The horses, they stabled, though other people had let theirs wander the green, cropping the grass and sleeping in a great and temporary herd.

Marcus traced the constellations, his fingers laced behind his head. It had been a long time since he’d just looked up at the stars. Beside him, Master Kit sighed.

“Maybe we should have started by sea,” he said. “We could have gotten a boat in Maccia. Or gone west to Cabral and made up the time by sailing.”

“I thought the currents wouldn’t have done the right thing.”

“But if we’re going to end up hiring on help anyway,” Kit said.

“We couldn’t have known. It was the best guess we had. Not like there’s much else we could go on.”

“No,” Kit said. “I suppose there’s not.”

Across the green, someone struck up a tune on a small harp.

“Are you still worried about her?” Master Kit asked.

“Cithrin, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” Marcus said. “But I think you were right. She wouldn’t have been counting on me to come save her. So at least I won’t have disappointed.”

“You sound bitter.”

“That’s because I’m a mean bitter old man. Do you see those four stars in a row? The ones right there near the horizon?”

“I do.”

“You can’t see them where I was born. Too far north. There are a lot of stars you can’t see from there.”

Kit made a small grunting sound by way of comment.

“You’ve traveled the world,” Marcus said. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Hmm. Let me see. There’s a lake in Herez. Lake Esasmadde. It’s huge. And in the center of it, there’s a whirlpool like when the last of the water is leaving a drain, but the lake never empties. And in the center of the whirlpool there’s a tower. Five stories tall, and utterly unreachable. As far as I can tell, it’s been that way since the dragons.”