The city was placed squarely at the water’s edge, a boxy giant just dipping his toes in the quiet bay. It was built against the side of a cliff overlooking the narrow straits of the harbor and beyond lay the vast nothingness of water that was the sea.
Soaring watchtowers and stern soldiers faced out from every wall, daring an enemy to try and take the massive city. Officially, the port was a principality of the High King in Brevia. Realistically, they did business with whoever paid for a place in their harbor.
Lucan had decided that the fastest way to the Rivellis Peninsula would be to charter a vessel here in Avenport and sail. Janir was not looking forward to sailing, but didn’t have any choice in the matter.
She and Karile were shackled together in wrist irons that had been obtained in Snow Dale. It was amazing how questions of blacksmiths could be quelled by a few well worded threats. At least now Lucan allowed her and Karile to ride double on Kalbo—while Camak held the horse’s reins, of course.
It was more out of precaution, she suspected. Slavery was technically illegal in Brevia and one of the few human trades the elves actively interfered with. Dragging two people in chains behind one’s horses did look rather suspicious, especially this close to the Sylvan Forests.
At the thought of the Sylvan Forests, Janir was reminded of Saoven. How she prayed he was alright.
They had been traveling with Lucan and his men for two or three weeks now. Janir had stopped counting the days some time ago. She’d had no chance for news, no chance to hear even from gossips what might have happened with Armandius. All this time her brother had been a cruel task master, forcing them to keep pace with him even though he never seemed to tire.
Any efforts at seeking help from people they passed on the roads or in the towns were met with beatings and death threats against those hapless strangers. Janir didn’t want innocent people to be killed because of them, especially after seeing what had happened to Florete. For all his faults, at least Karile shared her conscience on that.
They neared the gates at what seemed to be a continent’s pace, but at last they were beneath the brooding stone archway that spanned the entrance to the city. A guard stopped them and pulled them to the side.
“Name?” he asked in a disinterested, matter of fact tone.
“Lucan Vanmar.”
Janir’s eyes widened. He was using his mother’s surname, the surname of the current Stlavish ruling house. She was certain the guard would catch it, shouldn’t it be suspicious this far north?
“Business?” The guard must ask these questions a hundred times a day, paying as little attention to the answers as the people who gave them.
“Seeking passage to Arness.” Apparently, Lucan had thought seeking passage to a deserted wilderness was more suspicious than claiming kinship to the current sultan.
“Destination?”
Lucan arched one eyebrow. “Arness.”
“Vocation?”
Lucan must have expected this question as he didn’t even blink. “Merchant.”
With six men in leather armor and two prisoners in chains, Janir wasn’t sure exactly what kind of merchant he could be. Either her and Karile’s shackles were unnoticeable or this guard was used to looking the other way. Probably the latter. She wondered if Lucan could have dragged the two of them in behind the horses after all.
Her brother’s answers seemed to satisfy the guard and the man moved aside, motioning for them to continue.
Their strange group entered the city. The inside was just as crowded as the outside. They forced their way through the outer courtyard and ultimately through the second gate, into the actual city.
Lined with street vendors and barking dogs, the place was noisy and chaotic. Shouting fish mongers promised the lowest prices. Assorted vendors on the side of the streets tried to attract customers any way they could.
Janir and Karile weren’t given much time for sightseeing as Lucan made an almost straight line through the chaos toward the shipyards. Not that they needed to see, Janir could guess just by the smell. She was certain all the fishmongers were lying about the fish being caught that morning.