You can read the previous chapter here!
Asp entered Pyramis cautiously, choosing to blend in with the crowd and not rush. It’s been a long time since I had to blend into a crowd. She laughed softly to herself. It’s been a long time since I’ve done much of anything besides pace my cell. The passing masses, largely humans and dwarves, seemed quite calm and even pleased as they went about their days.
Ahead was a grouping of market stalls about half the size of the Thistlewade market. That’s weird. I heard the market here was huge. She shook her head and browsed the wares–bulk cloth, milled flours, hardware. Nothing exciting. What gives? Disappointed, Asp left the market and joined back up with the street further into town.
Back on the road, Asp tried to stay focused. A procession of robed holy people walked slowly past, all but one of them moaning a low, collective wail. The last one, a clean-shaved man in perhaps his 60s, was chanting.
“We hail the Church of the High Lady,” he intoned. “We hail the progress of all. We hail the freedom of our forebears. We hail our duty to recall.”
The man finished these words, and his moaning associates raised their voices until the area was awash with their howl. Gradually, they quieted. They’ve been on one breath forever. What the fuck is this?
“We hail the Church of the High Lady,” called the man again as the procession continued. “We hail the progress of all. We hail the freedom of our forebears. We hail our duty to recall.”
The rising moan came again, more distant this time but still haunting. Asp changed her mind about blending in and hurried onward.
She found herself on a road that seemed to approach the nearest pyramid. Market stalls–more than before, more than in Thistlewade–dotted the area, and she made a beeline to them. Exotic spices, rare books, and musical instruments sat carefully laid out on sturdy tables. Asp pored over them eagerly.
The middle-aged slightkin man behind the table with the musical instruments looked at her curiously. “You a long way from home too?”
Asp looked up from a fiddle and flashed a smile. “I don’t think of it as home anymore, but I suppose the answer is yes.”
The slightkin smiled back. “I know the feeling. I’ve been on the road so long, I feel like I barely know Eunax anymore. You a merchant?”
Asp held up her inkpen and notebook. “Reporter.”
“Reporter, huh?” The slightkin shook his head. “How do you even make money from that?”
Asp started to speak, then stopped and smiled. I never really thought about that. How would Delia make money? Charging for news, I guess, but I’ve always needed more circulation and less coin. Let’s see, how would she make money without charging for news? She could tell she’d been quiet too long. Brush it off.
“You ever figure that out, please let me know,” she said, adopting the cadence of a joke.
The slightkin laughed politely. “I know that feeling too. Don’t worry, miss. You’ll figure it out.”
Asp smiled and nodded. “Hey, speaking of figuring things out, what’s up with the weirdos chanting in the street?”
The slightkin laughed nervously. “I’d keep your voice down. That’s the big religion around here–the Church of the High Lady.”
“They hail the progress of all, I’m told,” said Asp in mock seriousness.
The slightkin laughed again, freely this time. “I’m serious–be careful with that. They’re not gonna crack your skull for saying it, but they’re not gonna take kindly to it, either.”
Asp nodded in genuine seriousness this time. “Sorry. It was just . . . surprising. So, I have to say, this city is different. It’s so . . . rich. I mean, the pyramids, for one. I could see those coming from miles away. And the streets are clean, the buildings aren’t falling apart, there’s apparently more than one market–how’d it get like this?”
The slightkin smiled slyly. “I see it now–you are a natural reporter.”
Asp laughed and held out her hand. “Delia.”
He gently took her hand. “Cristoph.” He released her hand and placed his palms on the tabletop. “That religion you were joking about is the likeliest culprit.”
Asp cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously? Everyone I’ve been, religion’s just a way to tell a bunch of people what to do at the same time.”
Cristoph sighed. “A lot of them can seem that way, and some supposed holy folks are frauds, sure.” He adjusted an accordion slightly, then shifted it back where it was to begin with. “But the High Lady was a real person who made this city what it is. That’s part of why they’re so devout–there was a tangible person who gave them freedom and progress and a tradition that keeps those alive.”
Asp watched him carefully, frowning slightly. “I’m sorry–you sound like a follower of the High Lady. I didn’t mean to offend.”
Cristoph put his hands in the air in front of him. “No, it’s not like that–I just respect it. I mean, like you said, look at the city.” He gestured around them, his eyes wide. “I love coming here on business. It’s like a vacation even when you’re working. And I didn’t even get into the main market!”
Asp’s jaw dropped. “This isn’t the main market?”
Cristoph burst into laughter. “You’re in the third-biggest market right now. You want to follow that road over there toward the farthest pyramid. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Asp grinned. “Thanks, Cristoph. Say, are you headed back to Eunax after your business here?”
Cristoph smiled back. “I am. It’ll take a few weeks, but I’m looking forward to seeing my dogs again. They’re with a friend, but I know they miss me.”
“Well, when you get back, enjoy it for me. I’m gonna be away from home for a while longer.”
Cristoph nodded. “I will. Enjoy the market.”
“I plan to.”
Asp joined up with the street in the direction Cristoph had indicated, and she found that as she slipped in with the crowd, she couldn’t stop her imagination from guessing the size of Pyramis’s main market.
—
The road continued, curving this way and that to avoid the pyramids’ construction. Asp stared up the slanting side of the nearest one. It’s so tall. It must have taken forever to build just one of them. Maybe there is something to this High Lady stuff. She rounded a bend and fell in behind a cart toting wooden beams.
She walked a while, her thoughts wandering across the last few days, and was surprised when she nearly slammed into the cart before her. She walked around to its side and glanced ahead. A guard dressed in a formal green and gold uniform was speaking with a group of merchants in the road ahead. They shook their heads, and the guard waved them on. The next group–some older folks in fine clothing–also shook their heads when spoken to and moved on.
Asp inched forward as the line before her shortened. As the cart driver pulled forward for her turn with the guard, Asp was able to make out the questions from the guard.
“Little slightkin girl in a green gown, broke out of prison down in Despair. And a newtkin man in trousers and a cape. You see either of them?”
Asp froze. I can still leave the line and go the other way. But that could look suspicious to the people behind me, especially when they hear “little slightkin girl” and I just walked away. Shit. Now I have to just play innocent. Stay calm.
The cart driver shook her head, and the guard ushered her onward. The horses pulled her ahead, and Asp strode confidently up to the guard.
“Good day, sir,” she said pleasantly. “What seems to be the matter?”
The guard looked at her suspiciously. “We’re actually looking for a little slightkin girl in a green gown. You know anything about that?” He stared holes in her.
Asp looked surprised. “Well, this is more of a dress than a gown, if that’s what you mean. And it’s as red as green. And I certainly haven’t done anything worth being looked for.”
The guard narrowed his eyes. “We don’t see many slightkin around here. You understand why I’m concerned.”
Asp smiled nervously. “I understand. But sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came straight this way from Strey a week ago. I haven’t really seen other slightkin around until I got here. It’s a mighty nice city you have.”
The guard seemed to be growing impatient. “Yes, yes, it is. And we don’t tolerate fugitives. So why don’t you let me search your pack and see for myself that there’s nothing amiss?”
Asp tried to remain casual. The Penelope and Gilbert costumes are in there. So’s a coinpurse with more than a reporter would have. And a dagger with dried blood on it. I’m fucked. C’mon, think.
“Oh!” she cried. “I have a merchant’s permit!” She reached into her bag and retrieved the expired merchant’s permit that Norman had given her for reference. “Surely this proves I have legitimate business here. How would a fugitive obtain legal documentation?” She glanced down and lined her pointed thumbnail up over the space on the form for the year. Handing it to the guard, she pushed the nail through, tearing the paper. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cried, pulling it back. “Oh no, now part of it’s hard to read!” She worked up some tears and handed it to the guard.
He frowned and scanned the document. “Another week or so,” he said to himself, disappointed. “Be more careful, miss.” He angrily waved her on.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, bowing slightly, and hurried onward.
A block later, Asp ducked into a tavern and tried to control her breathing. That was so much closer than it should have been. I guess I really ruffled some feathers with the breakout. She scowled. It couldn’t have been avoided. Gorb wasn’t going to let me out. I did what I had to do.
“You need something, miss?”
Asp turned. An elderly human woman with enormous jewelry was looking kindly at her.
“I’m fine. I could use a bite to eat and a drink, if that’s okay.” Asp walked cautiously to the bar.
The elderly woman cackled. “Doll, that’s what I’m here for. Take a seat.” She patted the bar in front of an empty seat.
Asp smiled neatly and climbed with some difficulty onto a stool.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the elderly woman. “This place wasn’t exactly designed for hiskin. Now, I’m Tavia. What’s your name, and what can I get you?”
“I’m Delia,” said Asp. “I’d love some bread and a nice wine.”
Tavia smiled. “Any preferences on the type of either?”
Asp looked up at the ceiling. “I’m guessing you don’t have seed bread, so I’ll take anything grainy. And if you’ve got a fruit wine, I’d be thrilled.”
“I’ll get some rye for you,” said Tavia, grabbing a small dark loaf of bread and surveying her stock of wines. “And I’ve got either peach or plum-rhubarb.”
Asp sat straight up. “Plum-rhubarb?”
Tavia giggled. “It’s actually pretty good. It’s from way east, out on Eunax. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s–”
“Thimblefull Vineyards,” finished Asp. “Norman wasn’t lying.”
Tavia cocked an eyebrow. “Who’s Norman, and why would he be lying about wine?”
Asp laughed. “It’s just, that wine was my–” She stopped short. What are you doing? Telling her that wine was your idea and your product would be insane. You’re a random, average traveler. Relax. “My favorite,” she said. “I’m so glad it’s made its way out here.”
“A bit of home always does the heart good.”
Asp thought of her mother. Unless that bit of home is trying to turn you into the guards. “It’s a lovely city,” Asp said idly.
“It’s a good place to live,” said Tavia. “I’ve been here all my life, and it’s always been good to me.”
What would it be like to live somewhere your whole life? “That’s good!” she said sweetly. “I’m glad you can be proud of your home.”
Tavia handed Asp a knife for the bread. “You want butter? Gravy? Jam?”
Asp bit into the bread and chewed happily. “I’m happy with it like this.”
Tavia smiled and uncorked a familiar bottle of wine. “Good for you. Simple pleasures are the purest.” She poured the dark wine into a tall glass and swirled it before handing it to Asp. “Can I get you anything else?”
Asp swallowed some bread and gestured outside. “If I take a right on my way out, I’m headed to the main market, right?”
Tavia smiled knowingly. “That’s right.” She used a cloth to wipe the bar even though it was clean. “Hey Delia.” Her eyes sparkled.
Asp took a sip of wine and felt herself transported back in time, years before she had had to run the first time. Now I’m running for the third time in three years. The memories coalesced and receded. “Yeah?”
“You looked like you came in running from something.” She narrowed her eyes, but her demeanor was gentle. “You okay?”
Asp smiled and raised her glass. “Only my past.”
Tavia smiled back. “Aren’t we all?”
—
Asp continued along the road towards the westmost pyramid, enjoying the afternoon sun. Several people in the same green-and-gold robes as the chanting procession passed by quietly, and Asp noted that people got out of their way. She passed a few markets that would have seemed sprawling to her yesterday, still wondering at what the main market might look like. It’ll be like an entire city of its own, she told herself. I bet I could spend days there and not see everything.
As she followed the bend leading up to the westmost pyramid, she tried to focus on her surroundings. A schoolteacher led her class of young humans and dwarves along the road, stepping together in time. A merchant on a slowly rolling cart hawked his wares, interested customers walking alongside as they did business. A pair of dwarves followed closely behind a regal-looking human woman in a flashy red dress with a familiar body language.
She smiled. Those are pickpockets. Let’s see how good they are.
One of the dwarves–a red-haired woman in light blue–glanced around and darted her hand into the satchel of the finely-dressed woman. So far so good, thought Asp. Let’s see if she can finish the job. The dwarf rummaged in the bag for a while–too long, thought Asp–and finally pulled out a pink silk bag. As she withdrew the bag, the coins inside clinked together. The dwarf quickly slipped the bag into her own satchel, and as the human woman turned to investigate the clinking sound, the second dwarf–a young man with a feathered black hat–began to shake a set of chimes, creating a similar clinking sound.
““We hail the Church of the High Lady,” moaned the dwarf in the hat. “We hail the progress of all. We hail the freedom of our forebears. We hail our duty to recall.”
The woman they’d stolen from scowled and considered them, but eventually turned, continuing on her way. The dwarves slowed their pace, and Asp slowed as well to match them, staying just behind. After a block, the dwarves stopped at an alleyway and began to speak too quietly for Asp to hear. She ran some mental calculations, shrugged, and approached them.
“Hello, my friends!” she called. “It’s been so long.”
The dwarves looked back and forth between Asp and each other.
“Who are you?” asked the man in the hat.
Asp smiled. “Just a witness.”
The dwarven woman frowned. “A witness to what?”
Asp looked past them down the road toward the woman they had robbed. “I don’t think I saw anything. It was just so perfect–your musical performance was timed so perfectly I don’t think that woman saw anything either.”
The dwarven woman scowled. “You’re right–you didn’t see anything.”
Asp shrugged. “I don’t think I did.” She frowned. “But I’m not sure. Maybe you could help me remember right.”
The dwarf in the hat chose his words carefully. “You saw us walking and chanting. That’s all you saw. Get it?”
The other dwarf touched his shoulder. “That’s not how she means it, Garth. She’s trying to blackmail us.”
“Correction,” interrupted Asp. “I am blackmailing you.”
Garth reached slowly for a mace hanging from his belt. “You don’t want to do that, lady. You shouldn’t mess with us. Right, Hen?”
Hen shook her head. “In broad daylight? Seriously? That’ll get us in worse trouble than stealing.”
Asp smiled cruelly. “So you admit it.”
Hen slapped her forehead. “Godsdammit.”
Garth dropped his hands to his sides helplessly. “Come on, Hen, really?”
Asp grinned and held up her hands to quiet them. “Ordinarily, someone in my position would ask for between half and three-quarters of your take. But I’m not an ordinary person. I’ll let you walk away for a quarter. That leaves both of you with plenty, especially considering how much sound came out of that coinpurse.”
Garth moaned, looking down, and Hen narrowed her eyes at Asp. “Who the fuck are you?”
Asp allowed a huge smile to spread across her face. “I’m the last person you want to mess with. Now hand over the purse.”
Hen frowned, looked to Garth, and handed over the purse. Asp took it and counted the coins by feel.
“Feels like seven crowns, nine helms, and about a dozen caps.” She looked up, doing the math in her head. “I don’t care about the caps. Rounded up by one helm, that’s two crowns for me. Fair enough?”
Garth rolled his eyes, and Hen shrugged. “I guess,” she said.
“Good,” said Asp sweetly as she counted out two crowns and handed back the rest. “By the way, I love the chime idea. It really is brilliant. But I’d recommend starting the performance before you steal something. That way, they’re already expecting the sound when it happens, and it doesn’t set anybody off when you make your move. Make sense?”
Hen blinked rapidly, confused; Garth looked like he’d been slapped.
Asp raised her eyebrows. “Make sense?”
Garth looked away awkwardly, and Hen laughed slightly. “Did you just . . .” she began. “Teach us to get away with it?”
Asp looked at them curiously. “Uh . . . yeah?”
Hen looked meaningfully at Garth. “That . . . that was probably worth more than two crowns.”
Garth smiled. “That’s a good idea, lady.”
Asp smiled one more time at the pair of dwarves and curtsied. “You’re welcome, and thank you for the funds. Good luck with your next work!”
With that, Asp bounded away from the dwarves and further down the road into Pyramis. After a while, she heard the shaking of chimes in the distance behind her, joined with Garth’s atonal chanting. After a time, the sound went away, and when no shouts followed, Asp smiled. See? Much better.
—
Asp rounded the final bend as evening fell. Just beyond the edge of the final pyramid was a sloping path that led down into the main market, a massive space with tightly-packed stalls that stretched almost as far as she could see, or at least, to the edge of the cliff that Pyramis was situated on. The sound of the marketplace was a din, but she could pick out the noises of laughter, of advertised wares, of the distant sea crashing upon the shore. She let it all wash over her.
In another life, this could have been home. She looked longingly at the expanse of vendors and customers. In another life, I could have stayed here and seen everything. In another life. She pushed the thought away and approached the first merchants.
She investigated the goods on display and imagined that every one held a treasure. A map seller offered detailed drawings of places across the world, and her eyes traced them, lingering on places she had been. Thistlewade, Strey, Despair, the dozens of smaller towns she had visited–she had seen them all. She realized with a swelling pride that she had come to know more of the world than she didn’t, and this realization turned to pain when she realized she had seen the last of them. She inspected a map of Afira, the long and twisted continent of the elves and orcs. I hope things don’t get too complicated there, she thought. I need something simple for a while.
She moved on and found a tapestry seller, and her thoughts drifted to Candace. All those tapestries to remind you of home, and now I’m the one going there. The colors and designs were at once familiar and strange–the pieces that the merchant claimed were authentic slightkin pieces looked similar to but certainly distinct from the ones she had known in her childhood. She shook her head at the vendor and moved on, discovering a merchant whose slightkin tapestries were perfectly accurate, but she noted that their newtkin designs were exaggerated. She smiled and carried on, wondering whether the merchants knew their wares were fakes.
Down the road, she saw a Ronan’el woman with an array of modified weapons before her. She explained to a potential customer that the bladeless knife handle before them in fact had a blade which was hidden inside the handle. “Flip this switch here,” she said warmly, and the blade snapped into place. “See? You have to be careful opening it, but you also can’t accidentally poke yourself with it when it’s closed.”
The customer shrugged and muttered something before stepping away. The Ronan’el woman saw Asp and waved her down. “Miss! Miss, come here!”
Asp looked around to make sure she was the intended audience. When she saw no one else could be the target, she approached the table.
“Good day, miss,” said the Ronan’el. “I’m Syna, and I specialize in special weapons. See, so many of us–smaller folks like you especially–can’t necessarily hold our own in a fight. But I have things that can balance the scales.”
Asp frowned. “I’m not much of one for a fight.”
“Exactly!” cried Syna. “See, you don’t look like you could hurt someone with a blade–no offense.”
Asp doubled over, tears in her eyes blurring Gunther’s face in her vision.
“Oh!” cried Syna. “I’m so sorry–what’s wrong?”
Asp wiped her eyes and straightened up. “Nothing–just got something in my eyes for a second.”
Syna furrowed her brow but continued. “So like I was saying, sometimes you need a little extra help. And I can help with that.”
Asp looked at the weapons on the table. A few special varieties of knife lined the left side of the table. Syna saw her investigating them.
“Some people can train to be very effective with blades even without much strength, but these blades can make that training unnecessary. This one,” she said, lifting a curved dagger, “can get someone pretty bad without much force–even one puncture can be enough to take a threat out.”
Asp breathed deeply and closed her eyes. “Blades are a little . . . grisly for me.”
Syna nodded. “That’s fair–not everyone’s made to stand blood. How about these?” she asked, picking up a long, thin blade. “This is a rapier. More distance, and it doesn’t take any strength to use. Look, watch this.” Syna took the rapier and thrust at a dummy behind the table. The point sunk into a canvas bag mounted to the dummy, and sand went spilling out of the bag in a steady stream.
It’s not blood, she told herself. It’s only sand. “Do you have anything with . . . more distance?”
Syna smiled. “If you want distance, there’s no better option than this.” She picked up a crossbow and jerked the string back before loading a bolt. “These things hurt like you wouldn’t believe to pull out, you know.” She took a few steps back and aimed at the dummy. She fired, and the bolt flew the distance and buried itself deep within the wooden head. “Here, you try,” she added, handing the crossbow to Asp.
Asp tried to take it, but the crossbow was nearly as big as her, and she couldn’t muster the strength to completely pull back the string.
Syna laughed lightly. “Of course. My apologies.” She grabbed a much smaller crossbow which could fit in Asp’s hands. “This one-handed version might be more appropriate. Give it another shot.”
Asp mimicked Syna, pulling back the crossbow string easily and loading a slightly smaller bolt into it. She aimed at the dummy’s chest and pulled the trigger. The bolt landed just above where she had aimed, but still at the heart of the body.
“Ooh, a natural,” said Syna. “What do you think? Does it feel right?”
Right? Nothing about a weapon is ever going to feel right. But at least I won’t have to feel the way I felt ever again. She recalled the first few months in prison and how often she had experienced panic attacks which she’d had to hide from the other prisoners. Maybe not right, but better.
“You sold me, Syna,” she said after a moment. “I’ll take it and–how many of the bolts should I buy?”
Syna shrugged. “If you’re hunting, I’d say about ten is enough. If you’re worried about people, at least thirty is wise. I dunno–you get into trouble a lot?”
Asp laughed, surprising herself. “Enough to know I need something like this.”
Syna laughed with her. “That’s a fair answer. So, the modified crossbow, say thirty bolts–”
“Make it fifty,” interjected Asp.
Syna raised her eyebrows. “So you’re planning on getting into trouble.”
Asp raised her hands innocently. “Trouble follows me. I’m planning on dealing with it.”
Syna laughed. “Okay, so the crossbow and fifty bolts is gonna be two crowns, two helms.” She suddenly grinned. “Actually, since you’re buying the bolts in bulk, let’s round down to two crowns.”
Asp grinned and produced the two gold-pointed coins she had gotten from Garth and Hen. I guess this crossbow is basically on the house. “Thanks, Syna,” she said as she handed over the coins.
“Good luck, traveler, and stay safe!” boomed Syna.
Asp nodded, loaded her purchase into her bag, and continued through the marketplace.
For two hours, Asp simply wandered from stall to stall, eyeing the collected goods. She saw tamed animals, industrial tools, entire homes to be sold and installed, fine ivory washtubs, ancient scrolls, handtools of the finest steel, recipes from all over the world, religious artifacts, traps and snares, and so many other things that she couldn’t remember them all. Something about this market was exactly what she had loved as a child–the anonymity, the commotion, the vivid and colorful environment–but it also seemed unfamiliar and imposing. Because one could search the market for days without seeing the same thing twice, Asp felt paralyzed. What if I miss something important? What if there’s something I’m supposed to see here? What if I’m already missing something? She sighted a slightkin baker a few stalls over and approached.
“Good evening,” she said to the young slightkin man at the stall. “Do you have any seed bread?”
The slightkin man grinned. “Another slightkin,” he said happily. “It’s nice to see a familiar face. Not that I know you–I just mean–you know what I mean?”
Asp laughed. “I do. The farther you get from Eunax, the less of home you see around you.”
He nodded. “You have a Lowglen accent–you from Thistlewade by any chance?”
“Yeah, actually. I lived there until about three years ago. You?”
The man smiled. “Lower tier near the south ramp. I’m Hollis.”
“Delia,” said Asp politely. “So your seed bread is authentic?”
Hollis hesitated. “Folks around here think of seed bread as a treat, like a dessert. They don’t eat it for a meal. So I replace some of the more earthy spices with brown sugar. Sorry it won’t be what you were looking for.”
Asp smiled. “That sounds nice, actually. I’ll take one.”
Hollis picked up a round of seed bread and handed it over. “One cap. If you like it, anyway. I’d hate to charge a neighbor for something like counterfeit seed bread.”
Asp took a bite and chewed. She swallowed and arched her eyebrows before trying another bite. She laughed to herself. “It’s really good . . . the texture’s just kinda . . . airy. It’s usually denser.”
Hollis sighed, shoulders slumped. “It’s what sells around here. What do you think?”
Asp took another bite. When she swallowed, she placed a pair of caps on the table. “It’s not home, but neither is Pyramis. I like it. Thanks, Hollis.” She turned to go.
“Hey, uh, Delia,” stammered Hollis. “Do you think I’m a sellout?”
Asp laughed. “You’re a clever businessman who combines tradition and ingenuity. Forget about being a sellout–you’re doing great.”
Hollis beamed. “Good luck, Delia!”
Asp smiled and took another bite of her sweetened seed bread. Maybe something new is what I need after all.
She eyed the setting sun and scanned the city. How do I get to the docks? She could just barely hear the water far below. I better get to the ship and find Hrothgar before I get left behind in a city that’s looking for me.
“Excuse me,” she said to a lanky human boy. “How do I get to the docks?”
The boy smiled. “There’s a tunnel that goes down just around that bend.” He pointed helpfully towards a wide road that cut down into the earth just beyond. “It’ll take you right there.”
“Thank you,” said Asp. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” said the boy.
Maybe to you. Asp nodded another thank you and hurried on.
—
Asp emerged from the spiraling tunnel which had been busier than she expected and hurried toward the docks, the moon already in the sky as the sun disappeared. Lanterns were lit across the city, and large bonfires at the tops of the pyramids joined them. Asp cut around unloading ships and searched for a dwarf.
Past a towering ship, she spotted a dwarf with a striped shirt and a cutlass at his waist. She made for him and waved for his attention.
“What is it, ma’am?” he asked, scratching at his neck.
“I’m looking for a Hrothgar,” she explained. “Would that be you?”
He bellowed laughter. “No, ma’am, I’m afraid I’m a Carlisle. Good luck to you on your search.”
She nodded thanks and hurried onward. A group of sailors passed around a few bottles of dark liquor just off the path, and their captain came to harangue them for laziness; when they had gotten back to work, the captain swigged their liquor and watched. The water lapped against the docks in a steady pattern that Asp came to anticipate as she walked.
Ahead was a clean-cut dwarf in a red tabard speaking to a young human man with a large gold earring. The human walked away as Asp approached.
“Excuse me, sir, are you Hrothgar?”
He looked at her a moment and frowned. “Let’s say I am–what’s in it for me?”
Asp sighed. “I’m supposed to find you for safe passage to Afira. Are you Hrothgar or not?”
He smiled widely. “Of course I’m Hrothgar! I just had to make sure you weren’t a guard.”
“Let’s say I am” is a weird answer to give a guard. She remembered being interrogated on the road by the city guard and stiffened. Don’t complicate this. Just get to safety.
“Oh, thank goodness. I was worried you’d already left. When do we set sail?” She fidgeted with her bag and looked over at the ship. Small. But it’ll work.
“Soon,” said Hrothgar. “We’ll get you where you’re going. The fee?”
Asp knitted her brows. “Fee? They said you’d help.”
Hrothgar scoffed. “Easy for them to say. They’re not the one hauling your ass across the ocean. Listen, kid, I got limited space on my ship. You can’t just take up space for nothing.”
Asp was silent. She simply stared at Hrothgar, unspeaking for a minute’s time. But he also was silent. Eventually, she said, “How much?”
Hrothgar grinned, and she noticed a few missing teeth in his smile. “Oh, let’s say I do help you out, and it’s only four gold.”
Four? It was one to get from Strey to the Myriad. Something’s fishy. I don’t like this.
“You know, Hrothgar, I just realized that I forgot about some business I still have here in Pyramis. I won’t be able to make tonight’s voyage. Thanks, though.”
Hrothgar frowned. “We could postpone if it’s only a day’s delay,” he muttered, “but it would cost you an extra crown for lost business.”
Asp smiled pleasantly. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll make my way–I promise you that.”
Hrothgar glared at her. “Come on, that business ain’t real. You can come with us. Tonight! And for only four crowns.” He took a step closer.
Asp took a bigger step back. “It’s very real, actually, and I must be going. Good night!”
She turned and ran. After a few steps, she could hear heavy footsteps behind her. She cut back the way she’d come, turned a sharp left, sprinted through an alleyway, turned left again, raced around a pair of wagons in the way, turned left a third time, and then squeezed between tightly-packed crates on her right. She ended up in a small space across from a grand and imposing ship with a few people out front. She returned her focus to the direction she’d come. She heard nothing. She waited for a few minutes, heart racing, and finally relaxed. Lost him. She sighed. Holy shit. I really do invite trouble.
“Uh, miss?” A deep and throaty voice behind her startled her out of her thoughts. She spun and saw a dwarven man, a mildly concerned look on his face. In some ways, his appearance made her want to laugh–he was perhaps the most average, or at least common, looking dwarf she had ever seen: very short, thick beard, bald scalp, ornate armor, stout and squarish. A holy symbol of some sort hung around his neck, the symbol itself dangling into his armor. He looked at her from a kind of distance as though she really were a snake.
Asp blinked a few times. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”
The dwarf snorted.
When he made no further sound or gesture, she shrugged. “I’m looking for passage to Afira with a certain dwarf.”
The dwarf stood unmoving. “And?”
Asp’s gaze fell to the ground. “And I just got chased around by that dwarf. So I’m out of luck. Any chance you’re going to Afira and have room for a passenger?”
His expression didn’t change.
“Please? I’m in a tight spot.” She glanced over her shoulder, unsure of whether she was more afraid of Hrothgar returning or the guards arriving for her.
“We’re no passenger ship,” he said plainly.
Her shoulders slumped. “I understand.” She turned slightly away and frowned. She began to mutter to herself. “All the way here for nothing . . . what am I gonna do now? . . . oh gods, another jail cell?”
Hrothgar perked up slightly. “You need passage to Afira?”
Asp cocked an eyebrow. “Ye–yes?”
“Do you, or don’t you?”
“I do!” cried Asp. “I just . . . please?” she tried again.
He offered perhaps a quarter of a smile which instantly disappeared. “We can make room.”
“Thank you!” shouted Asp. “Oh thank you so much.” She reached out a hand.
He looked at it strangely, then took her hand for a moment before letting it go. “Hrothgar,” he said.
Asp furrowed her brow. “Hrothgar? But–”
He looked at her like she was ill or crazy.
The other guy didn’t say he was Hrothgar. I asked if he was. She looked up at the darkening sky. Idiot.
“Anyway,” she said, trying to recover, “I’m Asp, and I was actually looking for you.”
Hrothgar shrugged. “Why?”
Asp sighed. “I’m in a spot of trouble, and I met a guy who said you and some . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper: “reformed criminals,” she said neutrally, “could help me.”
Hrothgar studied her closely, then shrugged again. “Maybe we can.”
Asp turned and looked down the road behind her again. “Can I come aboard?”
Hrothgar didn’t move for a time, and then he sidestepped away from the gangway up to the ship. It had five enormous masts and four tiers of decks that she could see, and the size of the ship’s belowdecks was impossible to judge from outside the vessel. Asp climbed up the ramped gangway and onto the deck, and Hrothgar clambered up behind her.
“Welcome aboard. This is the Kraken.” He frowned. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t!” cried Asp. “I promise.”
Hrothgar grunted and walked away, leaving Asp on the main decks of the ship. It seemed massive, even moreso than normal slightkin-to-human comparisons. She stood uncomfortably for a minute, watching the crew tend to the final steps before departure. A well-dressed elven woman swept over to her. Asp considered the woman’s face–she reminded Asp of Candace in many ways–and her clothing–like finer versions of a pirate’s clothing, a large cutlass bouncing at her hip.
“Good evening, traveler!” called the elven woman theatrically as she approached. “What brings you to our considerable vessel?” She gestured wildly around her at the ship.
Asp tried to not laugh at the woman’s demeanor. “Looking for a fresh start,” she said nervously.
The elven woman cackled. “I know what you mean! Everyone of a certain ilk has found themselves in need of a new beginning, a trusted ear, and a good drink.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “If you’re lucky enough, you might find all three here.”
Asp nodded, somewhat enraptured by the woman. So this is how it feels to talk to me. “Thank you, miss–”
“Oh, no ‘miss’ business!” shouted the woman. “I refuse to be referred to as a formal member of any group. Those who know me call me–well, they call me a lot of things that don’t bear repeating in polite society–but you can call me Solana.” She extended a tattooed hand.
Asp grasped it and shook. “I’m Asp,” she said pleasantly.
Solana burst into laughter. “And that tells me everything I need to know.”
Asp looked back at her, suddenly concerned. Shit–what did I just give away?
Solana saw the look on Asp’s face and laughed. “No worries, Asp.” She smiled wide. “You’re safe here with us.”
“I hope so,” said Asp. “I mean, thank you.” She looked down. “Sorry.”
Solana laughed as though Asp had told a ribald joke. “You’re fun. Here, I’ll show you to your room–you look tired.”
Solana turned and headed towards the lower decks. Asp looked up at the moon for a moment, then followed behind Solana. She showed Asp to a modestly-sized room (by slightkin standards) and waved around.
“This is you until we land. Meals are served at sunrise, noon, and sunset–no charge, but you can pitch in if you want. Feel free to stay in here as much as you choose, but the crew would be happy to have you around.” She smiled again, dangerously this time. “I’d definitely like to talk a bit over drinks.”
Asp stepped into the room and looked around. A simple bunk protruded from the wall, and there was a footlocker attached to the floor and a chamber pot placed into a space created by pegs coming up from the floor that held it in place.
“Nothing in here moves around, but you might, so be careful,” Solana said.
“I’ve traveled by ship before,” said Asp. “I’ve got pretty good sea legs.”
“Good. I’ll see you later, but feel free to join us on the deck as we set sail.”
Asp smiled politely. “I’m pretty exhausted. I think I’ll check on the sea tomorrow.”
Solana tapped her fist against the doorframe. “Excellent. Rest well. See you in the morning.”
Asp nodded and closed the door after Solana had left. She lay down on the bunk and stared up at the ceiling’s fine wooden planks. I made it. I’m free of the Myriad. I’m gonna be so far away that no guard can ever find me.
And when, minutes later, Asp realized that applied to the people she loved too, she was glad for her privacy.
You can read the next chapter here!
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