in her form. Save, of course, the irises. But one had to stand close to see those.
“My name is Ferhuul,” said the man on the beach, extending his hand in peace, “and I would be bowing in token of my respect if I did not wish to avoid drawing attention to your arrival, my lady.” He averted his gaze, perhaps not wanting to become lost in hers, and clasped her hand briefly. Then he likewise greeted the others, guessing their names correctly, though Mard and Lyne required a little straightening out. He spoke Townish with the accent of Cloven, which was presumably his native tongue. “If you will please follow me,” he said, “I know of a place where all of us can talk in comfort.” He cast a wary look at Burr, but the man-at-arms had had the common sense to leave all of his weapons, save a belt knife, aboard Firkin, where Robst and his three crewmates could keep an eye on them. Satisfied of that, Ferhuul led the party on a stroll up streets that were flat and straight at first, winding and even zigzagging later as they climbed up out of the harbor flats.
“Try to act like you have been here before,” Brindle told Prim, “or at least to some place like it.”
Prim nodded and, for a little while, fixed her gaze on the cobblestones coming and going under her feet.
Practically all of the souls Prim had ever met in her life had been Sprung: descendants of Adam and Eve, which meant that they had come into being within the bodies of mothers who had been impregnated by fathers. As was proved, or at least claimed, by the great family tree on the wall of the Calladons’ hall, every such soul could trace his or her ancestry back to Adam and Eve. Though they each looked a little different, all such souls shared a common form that, according to their legends, had been preordained by Spring in the Before Times.
Spawned, on the other hand, had not been born of a woman but had simply appeared here or there, first as inchoate glimmers of near-chaos. From those beginnings they had developed forms. It had been thus in the Before Times, when many such had developed at hazard into wild souls of outlandish shapes and powers. Even in the days of First Town, though, they had tended to shape themselves into two-legged, two-armed, one-headed creatures of a common size. Egdod’s casting down of the hive and the destruction of First Town had dispersed such souls to all parts of the Land, where they had clumped together into new communities. There were variants characteristic of certain regions, the best known being Beedles, who spawned in the vicinity of Secondeltown and were shaped to be the servants and soldiers of the Autochthons. And souls who spawned in very remote areas could still take on unusual forms. But for the most part, Spawned were indistinguishable from adult Sprung. The only difference that mattered was that Spawned could not have children.
Spawned were rarely seen in the middle of Calla, where Prim had lived her whole life, but they were all over the place here. Children ran and played in the streets—these were obviously descendants of Eve. But those of finished, adult form might be either Spawned or Sprung. Prim was naturally curious to see whether she could tell them apart; Brindle had noted her gaze lingering too long on strangers’ forms and faces and given her a gentle warning. Farth, the only other town of any size she’d spent time in, was a friendlier sort of place where everyone knew each other. Cloven felt altogether chillier and less welcoming.
“Souls of all kinds come here from the Bits, the Lake Land, the whole length of the First Shiver. Even from as far south as the Asking and as far east as the communities lining the Hive-Way,” Brindle explained. “So it’s not at all like Farth. They don’t all speak the same languages or observe the same customs. You might even see the odd Beedle scuttling up out of the hold of a cargo ship from Secondeltown. In places like that”—and he nodded at the open door of a tavern, full of souls having a common look and speaking a language Prim had never heard—“they may be warm and sociable, but the streets and wharves are a different matter and you’d do well to bridle your curiosity.”
Their destination turned out to be an old