watching Nortah and the others climb into the boat. He took a moment to survey her, noting how her face had become leaner over the weeks at sea. The daily regimen of punishing exercise, sword practice, Nortah’s lessons with the bow, not to mention the nights spent sleeping on deck, had all been borne with wordless acceptance. Her gaze still betrayed the occasional flash of resentment but at no point had she refused a command, no matter how injurious to her pride it might be. He wondered if she were trying to prove something to herself rather than him. Or is it Reva? he thought. Is it her measure she wishes to match? The thought provoked a small pang of sympathy, for he knew that to be a height none could ever hope to reach.
“Your last opportunity, my lady,” he told Ellese. “You can still turn back, go home. I feel your mother will be satisfied with your newfound discipline . . .”
She turned away and vaulted over the side, landing in the centre of the boat and drawing a soft curse from Sehmon as it rocked in the placid harbour waters. Vaelin smothered a laugh and climbed down the rope to join them. He pointed Ellese and Sehmon to the oars and joined Erlin at the prow as they began to row.
“The name of this place, again?” Vaelin asked him.
“Hahn-Shi,” Erlin replied. “The greatest port in the Venerable Kingdom. Second only to the capital in size and population.”
“So, I assume finding the guide you spoke of will not be easy?”
A faint smirk crossed Erlin’s face and he shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so. Unless someone’s finally managed to slit his throat that is.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Although the hour was barely past sunrise, as was the way with ports the quayside was busy with people when they came ashore. Fishermen prepared their nets for the day, and merchant crews traced uneven courses back to their ships after a night of drink and carousal. As Erlin led them from the docks into the densely packed streets beyond, Vaelin was surprised by the lack of interest they aroused in the inhabitants, drawing only a few glances and most of those directed at Alum due, Vaelin supposed, to his height.
“The docks are the foreigners’ quarter,” Erlin explained. “The only place in the entire kingdom where they are allowed to live for any length of time, having purchased license to do so from the Merchant King, of course. Some Realm-born and Alpiran merchants have lived here for years.”
“What’s to stop them upping sticks and moving somewhere else?” Nortah enquired, Vaelin noting how his eyes scanned the various passing shop signs with keen interest.
“The threat of immediate execution,” Erlin said. “And the fact that there’s a fairly large wall enclosing the quarter. You’ll find the people of the Far West are nothing if not thorough.”
The streets narrowed as they moved deeper into the city. Erlin turned this way and that with an unconscious familiarity that bespoke an undimmed memory regardless of any bodily failings. Vaelin soon gained an appreciation for the marked difference in architecture here, almost all the houses being constructed from wood rather than stone and hardly any standing higher than two storeys. The roofs sloped at a more shallow angle than those in the east, each densely covered in terra-cotta tiles that dripped swollen dewdrops onto their heads as they passed beneath.
“What a place for a thief this would be,” Sehmon commented. Vaelin glanced over his shoulder to see the outlaw gazing up at the encroaching rooftops with a wistful eye. “Each house no more than a few yards apart, and if you slipped, the fall won’t kill you.”
“No,” Erlin told him, coming to a halt and nodding at a symbol painted in red on the wall of a corner house. “But the Crimson Band would if they caught you. I advise you to curb your urges, young man. No one steals here without permission.”
“The Crimson Band?” Vaelin asked, moving to Erlin’s side to peer at the symbol. It was round with an intricate curved character in the centre.
“All cities have their underside,” Erlin said. They had come to a junction between five streets, and he peered into each one in turn with a tense, wary expectation. “And those that govern it. We’ll need their assistance to get beyond the wall.”
“So that’s our destination? The den of this gang.”
Erlin let out a derisive snort. “‘Gang’ is far too inadequate