Ferret groaned. "Oh, no. The door on Old Nom's card is in rock the color of blood."
"Perhaps this is not Sarain," said Delon.
"Even if it is, Delon, mayhap it is as thou hast suggested," said Arin. "Mayhap the red stone is inland."
"The thing to do," said Egil, "is to find a port city and see where we are. Whether or not this is Sarain, let us find a scholar to translate the runes on Ferret's drawing. If the scholar can read them, then we might know, or perhaps he can advise us, where we need next go."
Arin nodded, then turned to Alos. "Canst thou find us a port city?"
Alos snorted. "Not immediately. But perhaps she can." The oldster pointed southward along the shore. There in the near distance fared a small dhow, her sails blooming orange in the light of the setting sun.
They swung the ship to starboard and closed with the dhow, though it was deep twilight ere they overtook the craft. It was a fishing boat crewed by three, and they cast down their knives and threw up their hands in surrender.
"Heh," cackled Alos. "They think we are pirates."
Arin showed the crew her own empty hands, attempting to convince them that they had little to fear. Then she and the others tried all the languages they knew-and between them, Ferret and Delon proved to know many-to no success. Finally Alos snapped, "Here, let me," and called out, "Sarain?"
The fishermen nodded and bowed, and gestured toward the coast.
Then Alos called out, "Chabba?"
And the crew of the dhow pointed to the south.
"Well and good," cried Alos, and saluted.
Then the oldster sat back down at the helm. "South we go. The port city of Aban is on the border."
As they swung away from the dhow amid gestures and calls of farewell, Aiko turned to Alos and said, "That was clever of you, ningen toshi totta."
Alos looked at her, then growled, "I'm a drunkard, not stupid."
Two days later in early morn they came to the gape of a great bay, its waters faintly colored by the outflow of the distant River Ennil, according to Alos, the border between Chabba and Sarain. Into the sound they fared, sailing easterly most of the day, the waters darkening with each nautical league as they came closer to the estuarial flow. Just after dawn they sighted the wide mouth of the river and up the slow-moving stream they sailed, its waters muddy with orange-laden silt. Some ten miles inland they arrived at last at the port city of Aban, with its docks to the left and right. They chose the piers larboard, for those were the ones in Sarain.
A hot golden sun rose through the midmorn as Arin and her companions trudged uphill along the narrow, twisting streets of Aban, the ways crowded with horses and camels and people moving to and fro. The men for the most part were black haired and brown skinned and swathed in robes, though some wore other garb-especially those men who rode horses, with their lavish cloaks and capacious shirts and wide-legged pantaloons, the latter tied tightly at the ankle on the outside of the boot. Bright turbans adorned the men's heads, that or red fezzes with black tassels hanging down.
Women were there, too, or so the comrades surmised, for the females were covered from head to toe with voluminous robes and only their eyes and hands could be seen. Some of these moved through the streets without speaking in groups of three or more, while others rode singly in enclosed litters, borne by burly men.
"You were right, Delon," said Ferret, pointing to signs above shops and inns as she and the others walked along the streets of Aban. "The writing, the letters: some of them look to be the same as the symbols in the inscription on Old Nom's card."
"Don't jump to conclusions, luv," replied Delon. "The lettering in Hurn is nearly identical. I think we'll have to wait until we can find someone who can read what you've written."
"When we find the Golden Crescent," said Egil, "we'll ask the innkeeper to translate it for us. That should prove quickly enough whether it's Sarainese or not."
"If it's not Sarainese," wheezed Alos, panting with the effort of walking uphill, perspiration funnelling down his face, "then as Dara Arin said, we'll sail on to Hurn, eh?"
"As soon as we've restocked the ship," said Egil. "You and I will see to it when we've settled in."
Alos nodded. "And we'll get some charts, too, right? At least of the Avagon."
Aiko looked at the oldster. "I thought you were quit of us, Alos."
Alos glared at the Ryodoan, but then his gaze softened. "There's no taverns in Aban. Damnfool religions and their damnfool beliefs."
"Ah," said Aiko, and then fell silent.
Following the harbormaster's directions, along the ways they fared, and often street urchins or mendicants or merchants would approach them to plead for alms or to sell various wares. But one look at Aiko with her yellow skin, or at Arin with her pointed ears, or at both with their tilted eyes, and the beggars and haranguers would back away, muttering and making signs.
Soon they reached their destination, a gilded crescent on a sign outside announcing the name of the hostel. The innkeeper nervously assigned them rooms, apprehensive at these women in the group-two exotics and another, all of them wearing men's clothes and none having the decency to cover her face. Infidels all.
"Here," said Ferret, pulling out her sketch of Norn's card, the page cut free from the logbook. "I have something to show you."
But before she could unfold it, Aiko reached out and stayed her hand. "No, Ferai," said Ryodoan. "Not here. Not now. Not him."
"Wha-?"
"My tiger says no."
"Tiger? Oh."
Ferret refolded the parchment and tucked it away.
"Where did you get this," hissed the 'alim. The scholar quickly folded the vellum shut and slid it back across the table while looking 'round the interior of the great library to see if any nearby students had seen the sketch.
Ferai stood before him, flanked by Arin and Aiko, the Ryodoan's swords sheathed. At the entry stood Delon. Of Egil and Alos there was no sign.
Ferai took up the parchment and glanced about also. Scattered at tables here and there, young men ducked their heads, embarrassed at being caught staring at exposed female faces, faces out in the open for any and all to see. Foreigners, they were-foreigners and infidels- and even though Aban was a port city, seldom did naked-faced outland females venture within; when they did, it seems the whole city would stir with the news. But these were not merely naked-faced females, oh, no, for two of them were pale skinned, and one was yellow! And two had tilted eyes, while one had pointed ears. They were northerners, outlanders, Elves, djinn, peries, succubi, houris, demons, angels, seraphim, cherubim, or any number of other such beings, depending upon one's theology, or teachings, or upon experience itself.
"It was a drawing on a card," said Ferret.
"I would not go waving it about, if I were you," murmured the wisp of a man, his nut brown features taut with alarm.
"Why?" asked Ferai, lowering her own voice.
"Because it is proscribed."
"Proscribed?"
"Shhh," shushed the scholar, looking about. Then he whispered, "It represents a forbidden religion."
Ferret whispered back: "Forbidden? Why?"
"Because it is associated with demons."
Arin cleared her throat. The man flinched, and he did not look directly at her, she of the slanted eyes and tipped ears. The Dylvana murmured, "Tell me, scholar, what says the inscription?"
"Come, let us go to a place where we may talk freely," sissed the 'alim.
He led them through the stacks, pausing long enough to select a particular roll from among many, each ensconced in its own pigeon hole. Then, motioning them to follow, he stepped to a small chamber, brushing in past a hanging bead curtain. Delon, following, at a word from Ferai, stood ward at the chamber entry.
Inside the room stood a table equipped with inkpots and quills, and with several chairs ranged 'round. The man gestured for them to sit, and as they did so, he asked, "Who are you, and why have you come to me?"