Home Delivery, pt1

I felt ill.

It was one thing to spend too much coin celebrating and drinking, but then to suffer the consequences while trapped in a gondola was excessive. At the boatman’s every stroke I held tightly to the sides of the rocking boat, watching the inky waters slide past. In contrast to my own near-panic at being on the water, Khara was lounging at the other end of the gondola, making small talk with the boatman. How could she be so relaxed?

“How to get final payment?”

They both went silent at my snapped question. Khara gave the boatman a hesitant glance. “Perhaps we could get some breakfast?”

My stomach roiled. “Not hungry. Will dragon-lady make us wait?”

Khara squinted at me a moment before turning back to the boatman. “Take us to Fogcrest if you please.” She sat even further into the cushioned seat and looked straight at me. Each time I thought of something to say she would shake her head slightly. 

After a nauseating trip across the Dusk river and through the canals of Silkshore, the boatman skilfully brought the gondola to a stop against the piers of Fogcrest island. A maze of multi-storey buildings twisted up into the dark skies, confusing my vision with mosaics and ornate stonework at every turn. The canals were quiet at this time of the morning… or evening. Khara led us to the nearest house, although it was closer to a small palace than what I was used to calling a home. It looked squeezed between the neighbouring buildings, everything narrow and too tall, arches too pointed. The black wooden door stood out against the pinkish stucco facade. It looked very closed for the night. But Khara’s knocking and staccato commands brought a servant to guide us through the dim hallways and up a never-ending stone staircase.

I began to wish I’d brought something larger than my boot-knife when we were led though a pair of peeling wooden doors. I actually felt like I’d been hit over the head by something, as I stopped and stared slack jawed. The rooftop terrace was invisible from the canals but was roofed in trellises of plant-life, vines and flowers which exuded faint illumination. I let my hand drift through the golden fog, the glowing motes twisting after the passage of my hand. It felt like I’d walked into some dream of a world where magic blossomed under the as yet undimmed sun. Silks, velvet and gilded wood surrounded us. 

“Where are we?”

A waiter gently took my elbow and turned me towards a balcony table. “This is the House of the Golden Orchid. Be at ease honoured guests of Lord Ankhayat. Are you breaking your fast, or supping before retiring?”

I let myself be seated while Khara discussed the finer points of tea. I stared over the handrail towards Ankhayat park, and the rest of the city of Duskvol laid out beyond it. The glimmer of electroplasm streetlights echoed the constellations above. This place didn’t feel like it belongs in the real world of blood and shit. My hand jerked as something brushed against it.

“You must try this infusion while it still steams!” Khara pointed to the delicate cup of pink liquid.

“I had no idea…”

She sipped delicately and sighed in pleasure. “Few do. Ankhayat keeps this house. It is always open to those who know how to ask for entry.” She took a deep breath of steam. “So few know the proper forms these days.”

I felt like a thorn bush draped with silk sheets. The few scattered patrons were wearing rings that were more valuable than everything I owned, let alone the rest of their jewellery and clothing. They were hiding it well, but I could feel the heat of their attention on my ragged outfit. I tried to comb my hair with my fingers.

“What are we doing here Khara?” I hissed.

“We are being seen. Unlike your outburst on the gondola, here we will not be overheard. Unless you start shouting again.” She frowned and batted at my hand. “Stop that. Eat something. Start with the infusion, then try some sweat meats, and finish with the spiced coffee.” She moved plates around in front of me. My mouth started to water.

“This… Did Mylera say how she would collect the guns?”

Khara spiked the morsels on a sliver of wood, and spoke in between mouthfuls. “No. She will need to find out who else is watching. Decide where is safest, pay bribes, and so on. She will send a message to us. This is why we will visit this place for breakfast over the coming days. We must be seen.” Upon finishing the sweetmeats she held the spiced-coffee in both hands and breathed deeply. “She will be subtle, as all Iruvians are. We must be alert for the signs all around. We must understand her subtle message when it appears.”

The waiter dropped the envelope on the table between us. “Yes, very subtle.”

I had noticed a familiar figure, the blade-thin Iruvian from the Temple, the guide. He had passed the letter across to the waiter along with whispered words before disappearing into another archway.

I smiled at Khara’s pretence of dignity. “What is it saying?”

Khara returned a scathing look. “It says oh so much, but you will of course understand everything,” and flicked the opened note into my lap.

Far Nightroad. Arch of 10 eyes.

I frantically tried to make sense of the words. “Um, there is Knights road in Whitecrown?”

She looked at me as I might look at a lost child. “The Nightroad is the name smugglers give their secret ways. The basements, half-sunken tunnels, and secret doorways to the canals. The far refers to the end, of the night. When the good people of this city, what few that there are, are still asleep and dreaming of the profits of the next day. Best time for business. The Arch of 10 eyes…” she paused and touched her lips, “that would refer to the five statues on the west bridge from Charhollow to Crow’s Foot. I can still remember the fuss everyone made when someone dropped the sixth onto a passing barge.”

She gave a little nod, very pleased with herself, “and you overlooked the perfume.”

I held the paper to my nose. There was something sweet, something like the tea we’d just drunk.

“It is the bright mantis-petal flower. It signifies the completion of a agreement, and the hope for future prosperity. Mylera likes us. We can expect a nice payment.”

“All that…” I looked at the delicate paper barely bigger than my hand. Khara grinned.

“Now drop it in the tea. It will dissolve. We have until sunrise to transport your… our guns.”

* * *

“It is not the time to be drinking,” Khara leaned back to take in the looming stone facade of Keller’s. My mouth could already taste the bitter sting of demon-fish, and the smell of smoke, wood, and tar surrounded the building. Home. 

“Not drinking, talking.”

“Khara raised an eyebrow. “Who are we talking to?”

“Siggi”.

He was the local power in Charhollow. Maybe even further afield. Every Skovlan born refugee who came to this gods-forsaken hole called Duskvol was pointed at Siggi. In another life he might have been a clan Uncle back in Skovlan, but he’d been born here in Duskvol to refugees, a local son who tried to live true to the beliefs of his old country. “We will never carry boxes across city. We need way to transport. Siggi will provide.”

Khara’s posture changes as we passed through the doorway. The low ceilings and dim candlelight obscured the handful of men and women scattered among the room’s alcoves, but all eyes focused on the Iruvian who strode in like she owned the building. I nodded at Sif as she sauntered towards us. She returned a friendly smile and indicated Khara 

“She’s a close friend.” Sif accepted my explanation and pointed us towards a corner table. A pall of smoke hung above it. A few older met crouched over the table, intently watching a game of Tafl. Just beyond them say Siggi.

He looked up as we approached. “Such a fine sight! Rúna returns to the fold, and brings such lovely company.” The other two smiled, but didn’t look away from their game. “What brings you back? Looking for work again?”

Khara calmly pulled up a chair and looked over the game. The scattered red soldiers surrounded the white clansmen and their mother. It wasn’t looking good for the white player. I placed my hands on Khara’s shoulders and leaned forward. I shrugged and continued in Skovic “You were pretty definite about not hiring soldiers like me. You said something about needing to show goodwill? Well, you’ve seen me helping out at the weekend kitchens.”

He nodded, his smile still failing to reach his eyes.

“So I need to ask a favour.”

The two men finally looked away from their game while Siggi’g expression grew serious. He wagged his finger at me. “No no little sister. From the day you walked off the train I could see you were a danger to yourself and those around you. I will not risk my position by wearing your colours.”

Khara felt my hands tighten on her shoulders. She couldn’t have understood what we said, but probably understood better the nuances of what had happened around the table. She gave my hand a pat, then leaned forward.

“I think white will win.” She waved her hand over the boardgames. There were only a few Clansman pieces surrounding the Mother. On all other side the red soldiers massed. Siggi narrowed his eyes, measuring Khara while the white player spoke up. “So kind of you to say my blossom. But I am in a weak position. This outcome will not happen.”

“On no,” she gently touched his hand. “You see it is only when you look weak that you can truly win. This man…” she pointed at the red player, “…is such a big, strong boy.” He preened. “He feels he must win. I see him move so quickly. He does not think about anything other that the next move. He is so certain. But…” she gently touched the tall Mother-piece, “I am sure she will find her way out. All you need is some incentive.”

Siggi´s frown deepened.

The silver coin slowly spun to a stop. Two more followed. I couldn’t swallow anymore. That was the last of the money that Mylera had paid us. How had it gone so quickly? The two men looked at the coins, then towards Siggi. He scratched his beard. “You are not wrong little one. The least among us are often overlooked.” He reached across and picked up the coins. “I’ll take that wager, but I am sure I will win. Where shall I collect my winnings?”

Yes. Siggi knew many people, including sailors and dockworkers. He would find something for us. “At Gaddoc station pier."