And then Wynn had taught Chap a new trick.
The little sage and her wayward majay-hì guardian, Shade—Chap’s daughter—had taught Chap how to isolate spoken words inside memories. In such a manner, he could certainly make his meaning more clear.
However, this new “skill” was annoying because Chap wasn’t very good at it yet. More often than not, a whirlwind of flickering, flashing images out of one’s past rose up with these memory-words because Chap couldn’t always separate just the words.
“Not now!” Magiere ordered as she glanced over her shoulder at him.
Chap flattened his ears. When he bared his teeth at her, most of the fragments of Leanâlhâm’s skirt fell from his jaws. Magiere heard the big Northlander shift suddenly.
“Leanâlhâm!” she called sharply.
The girl peeked around the Northlander’s thick legs.
“Do you still have the rope?” Magiere asked more quietly.
Leanâlhâm nodded, fumbling for the length of braided hemp around her waist. That brought a snarl from Chap.
Magiere hadn’t shared this preparation with him, but after a stupid incident in Calm Seatt when a mob had chased a “loose wolf” through the streets, she wasn’t letting it happen again. Unlike in other places they’d been, a wild animal in civilization drew too much attention in these lands.
With the rope in hand, Leanâlhâm hesitated. Chap still snarled, agitating everyone around them, and the girl peered up mournfully at Magiere.
Like Leesil’s, Leanâlhâm’s appearance was unique. Although she was only a quarter human, her coloring had been far more affected by it than his. In place of her people’s white-blond hair, hers was nearly brown.
Leanâlhâm was a beautiful girl. Her eyes had the unearthly largeness and slant of her people. But where the elves’ larger irises, even Leesil’s, were always amber, hers were like the dark, damp leaves and needles of the an’Cróan forests.
In sunlight, her eyes appeared to fluctuate between shades of topaz and verdant green. Just one more thing to call unwanted attention.
“Go on,” Magiere encouraged. “He’ll put up with it better from you than us.”
Leanâlhâm swallowed hard and started toward Chap on her knees. Chap’s growl sharpened, and Magiere whirled on him.
“Chap ... sit!” she commanded, as if he were a common dog.
Chap’s crystalline blue eyes widened as he fell deadly silent. Everyone nearby turned quiet as well, but they all still watched, including the suspicious Northlander.
“Forgive me, majay-hì,” Leanâlhâm whispered.
She spoke with an Elvish accent, but her grasp of Magiere’s native language, Belaskian, and some local Numanese was passable. Her hurt tone said more than the words.
The an’Cróan revered majay-hì, among other natural guardians of their land, as sacred. The indignity of treating one this way was likewise harder for the girl. Aside from Brot’an, Chap was the only nearby connection she had to the world she’d left behind.
Leanâlhâm slowly slipped the rope’s loop over Chap’s head, but Chap never took his eyes off Magiere.
Magiere suppressed a flinch. This was going to come back to “bite” her sooner or later.
“Are we done here?”
Magiere started at the sound of Brot’an’s voice. The anmaglâhk master stood off to the Northlander’s far side, though she hadn’t seen him slip around Chap and onto the dock.
“Yes,” she answered, and started to go after Leesil.
Brot’an stepped in first, but as he reached down toward Leesil, Chap shot out, dragging a fumbling Leanâlhâm across the dock.
Chap snarled once at Brot’an and ducked in close to Leesil, who braced himself on the tall dog and struggled up. Leesil wiped spittle from his chin and nodded once to Magiere. She bent down to pick up their travel chest, balancing it over her right shoulder so that she could hold it with one hand.
“Thank you,” she told the Northlander in local Numanese. He grunted, nodded, and turned to go up the dock on his way. But there was still many a curious eye watching a bunch of obvious outlanders with a huge wolf for a “pet.”
“Leanâlhâm, come on,” Magiere ordered.
Chap passed Magiere with another growl as he pulled the girl along, and Magiere took hold of Leanâlhâm’s free hand.
“We’re getting you out of that skirt,” she added, “and into some pants.”
“I like my skirt ... what is left of it,” Leanâlhâm answered quietly. “I can move freely in it.”
“Yes, freely, just not on your feet.”
Leanâlhâm actually huffed, but that was all, as Magiere headed for the waterfront.
“Brot’ân’duivé was speaking to our ship’s crew,” Leanâlhâm said, changing the subject. “They told him it will be difficult to locate a captain heading south this same day.”
“When did this happen?” Magiere asked, and when no answer came, she glanced down.
Leanâlhâm was anxiously looking about the port, almost as if searching for something she couldn’t find.
“Perhaps we will not leave until tomorrow,” the girl said wistfully. “Or the day after.”
Magiere blinked. Why would Leanâlhâm wish for a delay in such a busy, foreign place? She, too, looked again about the port.
“One of these captains must be willing to take passengers,” she said. “If we can find one who’ll talk to us, who’s heading in the right direction, and leaving today.”
No small feat of luck.
Fearless seagulls wheeled in the air above, some diving in almost close enough to touch as they searched for tidbits that might have been dropped on the dock. The humid air smelled of salt and kelp, old wood and oiled rope. Magiere glanced over her unburdened shoulder and looked for her husband.
Leesil’s expression darkened, his eyes on Brot’an’s back. He hated having the aging shadow-gripper’s company forced upon them. Magiere tolerated Brot’an—and openly admitted he could be useful—but Brot’an and Leesil had an ugly history that would never heal.
“Is that the best advice you could find?” Magiere asked Brot’an. “Try for a ship leaving tomorrow or later? We need something today.”
Before he could answer, a string of broken words erupted in Magiere’s head. This time all of the pieces were in her own voice out of her memories.
—Best—find—large ship—discreet—captain—reasonable price—
Magiere’s left eyed narrowed. “Chap, I told you ... you’re to warn me before you do that!”
“Is he jabbering in your head again?” Leesil called out. “What now?”
“More advice,” Magiere answered, “and picky as usual.” Then she noticed Leanâlhâm.
The girl again peered about the port, looking for something, and her pack hefted on one small shoulder caused her to teeter. They were all weighed down with too much travel gear, and this was no way to traipse up and down the piers, looking for transport. While none of them were fully fluent in the local language, Magiere and Brot’an knew enough Numanese for simple conversation.
“Leesil ...” she began carefully, not looking back. “If we get stuck here for a day or two, we’re going to need a room, someplace safe to sleep and store our gear while—”
—No— Chap cut in, but Magiere went on anyway.
“While Brot’an and I search, maybe you, Chap, and Leanâlhâm can find us an inn.”
“No.” Leesil echoed Chap’s unheard reply.
With anger rising, Magiere turned on both of them. “Neither of you will be a lick of help in talking some captain into taking passengers!”