Recruiters of various sorts always worked in the city’s markets, particularly Shiphaven Market and Westgate Market, calling out their offers to the passing crowds; anyone who wanted to take up a career as an adventurer, or any other particularly hazardous and messy job, could go to the markets and pick from several options.
But there was no market in the Wizards’ Quarter. There was Arena Plaza, but Sterren had never seen a recruiter there. The nearest true market was in Southgate, and Sterren had never been there at all. The taverns and gaming in Southgate were organized, and freelancers like himself were not welcome.
Or would Southmarket, by the reservoir, be closer to the Wizards’ Quarter than Southgate? He had passed through there once. He didn’t remember seeing recruiters, but he could not be absolutely sure they hadn’t been there.
And there was always Eastgate Market, and Hempfield Market, and Newmarket, and Newgate, he had gambled in inns and taverns near all those, at one time or another, before settling back into his home turf around Westgate and the two Merchants’ Quarters. Those other markets had no recruiters, generally, and weren’t particularly close to the Wizards’ Quarter, but should he rule them out completely?
For the first time, Sterren began to see the city’s immensity as a serious drawback.
He blinked, shook his head, and reconsidered.
None of the various markets seemed exactly right, but pretty obyiously, Shiphaven Market would be the best if he decided to go that route. It was the traditional place to recruit people interested in traveling by sea, after all, and it would be closest to the Tea Wharves, wherever they might turn out to be. That would mean less walking through the city streets, but on the other hand, Shiphaven Market was always crowded, was not too far from his old stamping grounds, and was surrounded by places to hide.
He didn’t know all those places as well as he might, since he had usually avoided Shiphaven in order to avoid drunken sailors who might be prone to violence, or ships’ officers who might stoop to kidnapping to complete their crews, but he thought he could manage to find something.
But would there be any magicians around Shiphaven Market?
The Arena Plaza was certainly much closer to the Wizards’ Quarter, and he thought he remembered a signboard there that he could post a message on, that was a second possibility that did not deserve to be discarded out of hand.
For that matter, simply asking around in the Wizards’ Quarter, or walking the streets calling for volunteers, might produce results. Perhaps he could inquire after ambitious near-term apprentices, or even journeymen. The magicians surely gossiped among themselves and would know who might be desperate enough for work to be interested in such an adventure.
And what’s more, there was no reason he couldn’t try all three approaches.
He smiled again. That would certainly be reasonable and would call for a good, long stay in Ethshar, with visits to two of the most crowded places in the city, Shiphaven Market and Arena Plaza. The Wizards’ Quarter was less crowded, but full of nooks and crannies and odd little byways where a person could easily lose sight of his companions.
That seemed very promising indeed.
As the city loomed before him, heart-twistingly familiar, his resolution to stay until he had hired magicians evaporated. He decided instead that he would take any opportunity to escape that arose, because any opportunity might be the last.
If the opportunity never came at all, he would live with that.
He was a gambler, after all. He was accustomed to accepting what the gods of luck sent him and making the best of it. If his luck let him slip away, he would; if he never got a chance, he would go through with the hiring of magicians and play out his role as warlord. He could see the docks ahead, now, and the mouth of the New Canal. Three wharves projected out at an angle, across a band of mud, a few hundred feet to the left of the canal; the ship seemed to be headed directly for them, and he guessed that these were the Tea Wharves.
That was the Spicetown side, but getting across to Shiphaven would be easy enough. Spicetown had no market square; the spice merchants did their bidding right on the docks. Shiphaven Market would still be the first stop in the search for magicians.
This expedition, he thought, might even be fun.
CHAPTER 14
Sterren stopped walking and pointed. “That’s the New Canal,” he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind, “And Shiphaven Market’s just the other side. That’s where we want to start looking.”
Lady Kalira glanced at the row of shops on the opposite bank and sniffed. “I don’t see any market over there,” she said, a trifle petulantly.
“It’s not right on the canal, it’s a few blocks in.” In truth, Sterren was not at all sure how far it was; he was not overly familiar with this part of the city and had never before needed to get from Spicetown to Shiphaven Market. “Are you still sure we should start looking immediately, and not find ourselves a good meal or a place to sleep?”
“We can sleep on the ship,” Lady Kalira replied, irritated, “and eat there, too, if we have to. Now, where’s this market?”
“How do we get across?” Alder asked. “Is there a bridge?”
Sterren had to think for a minute. “Well, there is on the Upper Canal, which turns off this one, or maybe it’s on the New Canal right before the Upper Canal turns off. I’m not sure.”
“Boats,” Kendrik pointed out. “There must be boats going across.”
“Of course there are,” Sterren said, although he hadn’t known there were until he saw what Kendrik had spotted: a small, flat-bottomed boat, obviously unfit to leave the calm waters of the canal, tied up to a dock on the opposite side. A man lay dozing in it, and some rotting fruit rinds were bumping gently against one gunwhale. Looking around, Sterren saw that a similar dock on the near side jutted forty feet out into the canal and had a space on one side where just such a boat could readily tie up.
“A ferry, that’s what it is,” he added, as he led the way down to the dock.
He hoped it actually was a ferry; if not, he knew he was going to look very foolish.
“I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Zander muttered as he followed his warlord down the cobbled slope.
“Because Shiphaven Market is where people recruit for foreign adventures; I told you all that,” Sterren retorted, as his feet hit the first planks.
Zander was not silenced. “Is it always this cold?” he asked, pulling his tunic tighter at the throat.
“No,” Sterren and Lady Kalira replied, simultaneously.
Sterren was not particularly pleased with the cold and wind, or with Zander’s whining. Both acted as deterrents to desertion. The immense size of the city did, as well; Sterren, being a native and accustomed to it from birth, had not realized how intimidating it must be to a foreigner, newly arrived from the rural openness of Semma, to find himself surrounded by a seemingly endless maze of walls and streets.
Even the rich city smell that he found so comforting probably seemed like an alien stink to the Semmans.
He was rapidly losing hope that all four of his volunteers would desert, but if even one did, he thought he could send the others after him, while he and Lady Kalira supposedly continued his recruiting mission. That might provide sufficient opportunity for his own escape. He came to the end of the dock, stopped, and waved an arm above his head.
Here he called, shouting at the top of his lungs in order to be heard over the wind, “Over here!” The man in the flat-bottomed boat looked up, startled out of his doze, and saw the party on east side. He sat up, then stood, and picked up a long-handled oar.