“I’m not a farmboy!” Dumery protested. “My father’s a wealthy merchant in the city...”
“Then have him buy you passage, boy!” He gave Dumery a final shove, not particularly hard or vicious, that sent the lad staggering onto the dock. Then he stood there, astride the gangplank, hands on hips, and stared.
Dumery stared back for a moment, then turned away.
He was not going to get aboard theSunlit Meadows easily, that was plain.
All the same, he was not about to give up. The man in brown was aboard that boat, and wherever he went, Dumery was determined to follow.
He had no ideahow he would follow, just now, but he’d find a way.
He had to.
Chapter Ten
“He still hasn’t turned up?” Doran asked, startled.
“No, he hasn’t!” Faléa answered. She glared at her husband. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was furious with Dumery for worrying her this way, and he wasn’t there, so she directed her anger at his father.
Doran was used to this; it didn’t bother him. “Have you asked the others if they’ve seen him?” he asked.
“Of course I have!” Faléa snapped. “Dessa saw him yesterday morning at breakfast; Doran and Derath won’t even admit that much. All three of them swear they haven’t seen him since. I’ve got them out searching the neighborhood, asking his friends, but so far they haven’t found any sign of him.”
Doran considered this, and said, “You asked that little ratty one with the long hair, what’s his name, Pergren of the Runny Nose, or whatever it is?”
“Pergren of Chandlery Street,” Faléa corrected him. “Dessa talked to him an hour ago. From what she said I think she threatened to beat him so hard his nose would stop running...”
“From what I’ve seen of him that would probably kill him,” Doran muttered under his breath.
“...but he still didn’t know where Dumery was,” Faléa said.
“All right,” Doran said, “I can see that you’re seriously worried, and I suppose it’s with good reason. What is it you want me to do? What do you think might have happened to the boy?”
“Oh,” said Faléa unhappily, “I don’t know. Maybe some slaver took him by mistake. Or maybe he ran away to sea. Or...” She took a deep, unsteady breath.
“Or maybe he got himself killed, somehow.”
Doran sighed. “All right, listen,” he said. “I’ll send a letter to Lord Talden; he’ll alert the city guard and get a description posted everywhere. And I’ll check with the Slavers’ Registry; if theydid pick him up, even if they’ve already shipped him off to Ethshar of the Sands or something, they’ll have reported the capture.”
“If it was a registered slaver...” Faléa began.
“Well, damn it, woman,” Doran burst out, “if he got captured by anunregistered slaver, then he’s in the hands of outlaws, and it doesn’t much matter whether it’s slavers or kidnappers or what, does it? There isn’t much we can do!”
“Oh, I know that,” Faléa admitted dismally.
Doran grimaced at her despairing tone. “Where was he going when he disappeared, anyway?” he asked.
“Westgate Market,” Faléa explained, “to see if he could find an interesting career to apprentice for.”
“Well, then, maybe hefound one!” Doran roared. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner? Maybe the boy signed on as an apprentice somewhere, and will send word when he can, in which case we’re all getting upset over nothing! Have you sent anyone down to Westgate to ask around?”
“Derath,” Faléa said. “He left half an hour ago. But Dorie, we’d have word by now...” She let her voice trail off.
“We should, anyway,” Doran admitted. “But some of these tradesmen are eccentric. Listen, are you sure he went to Westgate? If he was looking for an apprenticeship, maybe he went back down to the Wizards’ Quarter again-he might have some new scheme for learning magic. You know how stubborn... how determined he can be!”
Faléa did indeed know how stubborn Dumery could be, and she considered this suggestion. It sounded plausible, but there was one problem with it. “Why would that keep him overnight?” she asked. “And... but Dorie, if hedid go there...”
“If he went there,” Doran finished for her, “anything could have happened, with all those magicians and all their spells running around loose.”
“Even if hedidn’t go there, maybewe should. We could buy a spell to find him.”
Faléa’s tone and expression shifted from woe to delight with amazing speed.
“Oh, that’s what we’ll do! We’ll buy a spell! That wizard you went to, what’s his name?”
“Thetheran the Mage,” Doran replied. He was less enthusiastic than his wife; magic was expensive. He started to say something to that effect, then took another look at Faléa and swallowed his words.
After all, this was his son they were talking about, not an escaped chicken or strayed cat.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll go buy a spell.”
“Good!” Faléa said, almost grinning. “It’s chilly out there; I’ll get your coat while you find your purse and some money.” She bounced toward the doorway.
“I thought we could go after lunch...” Doran began.
The grin vanished. “Now,” Faléa said.
Doran sighed. “Now,” he agreed.
Chapter Eleven
Dumery sat on the slope above the dock, to one side of the road, and stared disconsolately at the river.
The World was going about its business all around him, albeit in a more leisurely fashion than a city boy like himself was accustomed to. Travelers were crossing the bridge in both directions, on foot or horseback, or riding in wagons and ox-carts, and the soldiers were collecting tolls from all of them. Boats of various sizes and shapes were moving up and down the river, some powered by sails, some by oars, most by magic. Some had tied up to the dock; some had departed.
Dumery just sat, staring at theSunlit Meadows and plotting out possibilities.
What if he headed to Sardiron of the Waters overland? There must be a land route, after all. Could he meet the boat there, in Sardiron, and pick up the dragon-hunter’s trail?
Probably not; he suspected that the boat would get there by water much more quickly than he could on foot, particularly if it used magical propulsion. The boat didn’t look as if it could hold enough men to work all those sweepswithout magic.
And if Sardiron of the Waters was anything like Ethshar, he might not be able to find the right dock even if he got there in time. Ethshar of the Spices was the largest city in the World, yes, but Sardiron was surely good-sized itself.
Besides, he didn’t even know whether the man in brown was really going to Sardiron. It seemed likely, but what if he were planning to disembark somewhere along the way? The boat probably didn’t just run from the bridge to Sardiron, but made stops at other places along the river.
For that matter, he wondered if this was as far downstream as it came. It was low enough to fit under the central arch of the bridge, certainly. It might have gone all the way to Ethshar itself.
If so, though, why hadn’t the man in brown boarded it there?
Well, maybe this particular vessel didn’t go that far. After all, Ethshar wasn’t on the river, it was on the south side of the bay, and the river emptied into the northwest corner, if Dumery remembered his lessons correctly, where the water was all shoals and shifting sandbars. Getting across the bay wouldn’t be easy sailing.