As in days past, they strolled beside the water, but everything seemed different than he remembered. The docks didn't bustle by night as they had by day, particularly with legionnaires standing watch to keep ordinary folk away from the piers. The waves were black, not blue and rippling with sunlight, and Tammith's fingers were cold in his.
Still, he was grateful to be here.
Tammith sniffed, her nostrils flaring. He did the same, but could smell only salt air and the leftover stink of the catch the fishermen had brought into port earlier that day. He supposed that she, with her inhumanly keen senses, perceived something more.
"It's a pity," she said.
"What is?"
"This part of the docks used to smell of spices. Now it doesn't."
"You have a good memory."
"When we were paupers' children, we used to imagine a day when we'd be able to afford foods prepared with expensive seasonings and all the other luxuries Bezantur provided for the wealthy. Now we're officers, lords of a sort, and we can have most anything we want. But the war has turned our home into a faded, tired place."
"Do you mind so very much?"
She sighed. "Perhaps I'm simply trying to mind. I don't have a problem with caring too much about things that don't really matter. My difficulty is trying to feel that anything does."
He forced a grin. "You were supposed to say, 'No, I don't mind at all, so long as we're together.' "
Her pale lips quirked into a smile. "That would have been better, wouldn't it? But you have to remember, you're the bard, gifted with a ready wit and golden tongue."
"Perhaps I can use them to coax you behind that pile of crates where you first permitted me to touch you under your shift."
"Bezantur would have to have some lazy dockhands if it's still there after all these years. Anyway, I can't believe you're feeling lickerish again so soon."
"We have sixteen years' worth of lost love to make up for. I assure you, I can couch my lance for another tilt. And you can nibble my neck if you want."
"No!"
Her vehemence surprised him. "You realize, I like it, too."
"That only makes it worse. If we're going to do this-be together-it has to be in the way of a natural man and woman. We need to put perversity behind us."
"All right. If you want it that way. Although you know, there are different sorts of perversity."
She cocked her head. "I suppose you learned of all manner of strange and disgusting practices during your time among the outlanders."
"Well, obviously, I kept myself pure for my beloved, but I could hardly help hearing the lewd stories told around the campfire. Storik once swore to me that dwarves like to-"
Tammith pivoted away from him to peer into the dark. "Something's happening," she said.
He looked where she was looking. At first he couldn't see anything. But he heard a muddled sound, and a moment later, the first ranks of what seemed to be a considerable number of folk tramped into the pool of amber glow cast by a hanging lantern. Most of the newcomers carried weapons, either proper ones or tools like axes and chisels that could serve the purpose. Many dangled sacks in their hands, or bore them slung across their shoulders. One fellow pushed a barrow full of bundles. The wheels squeaked and rumbled on the cobblestones.
There'd been a sentry posted at the far end of the street. He must have tried to turn these people back. Bareris wondered how badly the mob had hurt him.
He also wished he and Tammith were wearing armor. Although no one had specifically ordered them to quell unrest and protect the fleet, in an emergency, it was their duty even so.
"I'm going to try to turn them back without fighting," he said. "Don't hurt anyone unless you have to."
Tammith nodded. "My abilities aren't like yours. I can't tamper with so many minds at the same time. But I'll help as much as I'm able."
He crooned a charm that made him appear a shade handsomer and taller, more sympathetic and commanding, in the eyes of anyone who beheld him. Then he smiled and ambled toward the mob as if they were all staunch friends. Tammith kept pace beside him.
"Good evening, Goodmen," he said, infusing his voice with the magic of influence. "What's going on?"
A big man at the front of the pack, a trowel clutched in one fist and both arms banded with tattooed rings, glared at him. "We're taking a ship. Or ships, if we can't all fit on one."
"Why?" Bareris asked.
"Because the blue fire is coming."
"No, it isn't, and if someone told you otherwise, he was simply repeating a baseless rumor. I'm not wearing my insignia at present, but I'm an officer of the Griffon Legion. I hear what the scouts and soothsayers discover, and I give you my word, nobody has seen any blue flame moving toward Bezantur."
"What about Szass Tam?" shrilled a voice rising from farther back in the throng. "Are you going to tell us he isn't coming?"
"No," Bareris said, "he probably is, but even he won't be able to get inside the city walls. No enemy could. You'll be far safer here than trying to sail to some foreign land. The same upheavals that shake the land are raising huge waves at sea. The depths are giving birth to strange new creatures."
"The nobles don't think it's safer to stay," said the man with the trowel. "Everybody knows they're getting ready to sail away and leave us 'lowly Rashemi' behind to die."
"Once again, I give you my word. They haven't made any such decision."
"We're done listening to you, legionnaire. We're going. If you want, you can come along. If not, you'd be wise to step aside."
Since the mason seemed to be a leader of sorts, Bareris targeted an enchantment of persuasion at him specifically. "I won't do that, because I'm trying to save your lives. The ships are well protected. Their crews are sleeping onboard, and the zulkirs have other troops and wizards stationed in the warehouses adjacent to the piers. If you proceed any farther, someone will spot you and sound the alarm. Then all those legionnaires and wizards will rise from their hammocks and bedrolls and slaughter you."
The big man took a deep breath. "Or we'll kill them."
"There are mothers and children at the back of the crowd," Tammith whispered. "I can hear them talking to one another."
"No," said Bareris, still addressing the big man, "you won't. You can't win. I understand you're brave and determined, but the soldiers have armor, superior weapons, and the training to put them to good use. They also have sorcery backing them. If you press on, you can only die, and watch your wives and babies hacked to pieces alongside you. Is that what you want?"
The man with the trowel swallowed. "You said it yourself. At this time of night, most of the soldiers are asleep. If-"
Tammith stepped forward. Her eyes gleamed and she snarled, exposing her extended fangs. A sudden feeling of foulness and menace radiated from her, and even Bareris flinched back a step.
"Idiots!" she cried. "You know what Red Wizards can do. What they love to do to anyone who defies them. You know the sort of creatures who fight for them. I'm only the first of many such beings who stand in your way, I could butcher every one of you by myself, and I'm getting bored with your stupidity. Choose now whether you mean to live or die, or I'll choose for you."
For a heartbeat, the mob stood and gaped at her. Then the big man dropped his trowel, and it clanked on the street. He turned and bolted, shoving into the mass of humanity behind him.
When he panicked, so did his fellows. They all ran.