The truth, fortunately, could be told selectively. "I'm here on state business," he told the cleric. "I'm meeting with the ambassador at the baron's request. Baron Foe- smasher will not be pleased if you force me to reveal state secrets."
"Ah. My apologies." He lowered his hand, gave Arvin directions, and strode away.
After a quick glance in the direction Karrell had gone, Arvin started on his way. It took him a while to figure out what "blocks" were, but after he started walking, it became obvious. He was used to the directions they gave in Hlondeth-a series of "fork rights" and "fork lefts." Here in Ormpetarr, the intersections were composed of four streets, not three. Each intersection offered three choices-straight ahead, right or left, but instead of saying "fork straight" the people of Ormpetarr grouped all of the straights together and simply gave a total. Arvin lost his way more than once but eventually got himself pointed in the right direction. He peered over his shoulder several times, making sure that Karrell was not following. Though he did catch sight of the same man twice-a tall man with gaunt, beard-stubbled cheeks-he saw no sign of Karrell.
The tall man, however, was cause for concern. Arvin had noticed him down on the docks earlier; it seemed improbable that the fellow would have taken exactly the same route as Arvin through the city. Convinced the fellow was a rogue, out to tumble a newcomer to the city-and well aware that where there was one rogue, there might be others-Arvin took an abrupt turn into a side street and activated his magical bracelet. He scuttled up a wall like a lizard, jogged across the rooftop and climbed down the other side of the building. Peeking around the corner, he spotted the tall man hesitating at the side street Arvin had just vanished from. As the fellow started down the street, Arvin hurried back up the main thoroughfare then turned into another street two blocks from the one the tall fellow was searching.
He continued for several blocks, sometimes walking with his cloak hood up, other times with it down. On streets where others were walking; he positioned himself immediately beside or behind them, giving the appearance that he was part of a larger group. On streets that were empty, he turned into doorways, pretending to be opening the door with a key but all the while keeping an eye on the street, searching for the tall man-or anyone who might be one of his accomplices.
At last, satisfied he'd given the rogue the slip, he started again for the ambassador's residence.
It took him some time to find it, despite the cleric's directions. Losing the rogue had thrown Arvin off; he had to double back and recount the blocks. It was quite late before he found the right section of town; the darkened streets were empty, and the temperature had dropped below freezing, making the streets slippery with ice.
Eventually he located the building he was looking for: a three-story residence that stretched from one street to another, the length of one of Ormpetarr's blocks. He knew it must be the ambassador's residence when he saw two members of Hlondeth's militia- recognizable by their distinctive helmets, which were flared in the shape of a cobra's hood-standing just inside the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the building. Arvin hailed them and explained that he'd come to meet with the ambassador.
"This late at night?" one of the men asked from behind the gate. He was an older, stocky man with a neat gray beard and hands crisscrossed with faded white scars: a career soldier.
Arvin spread his hands apologetically. "I was delayed." He held up the letter of introduction Tanju had given him. Written by one of Lady Dediana's scribes, the folded letter bore a dab of wax impressed with the insignia of House Extaminos: a mason's chisel and a ship on either side of a wavy line that represented a serpent.
"Could you at least show Ambassador Extaminos this and ask if he'll see me?"
The bearded militiaman held out a scarred hand; Arvin passed the letter through the bars. As he carried the letter inside the building, the second militiaman-a thin, young man with a prominent nose that was red with cold-stood by the gate, waiting. Arvin heard his teeth chattering.
"An unpleasant night to be stuck outside," Arvin said. "I've never seen a winter this cold."
The militiaman nodded. "It's better than crewing a galley, though." He glanced at Arvin's face. "What happened to you?"
Arvin touched the wound on his cheek. The flesh was tender and bruised under the scab. He hadn't shaved this morning and probably wouldn't for the next few days, at least. "A riverboat accident," he answered. "We were attacked by a nagas."
The young militiaman's eyes widened. "That's what delayed you?" Before he could comment further, however, the other militiaman returned. "The ambassador will see you in the morning," he announced, passing Arvin's letter back.
"But I've traveled far," Arvin protested. "And my business is urgent."
"In the morning," he said firmly.
Silently, Arvin cursed the thief who had delayed him. Baron Foesmasher was expecting Arvin to show up at the palace tomorrow morning, and-so Arvin had heard-the baron wasn't a man who liked to be kept waiting. Arvin had hoped to question Dmetrio this evening. If Dmetrio was sleepy, so much the better. It would be easier for Arvin to manifest a charm on him.
"I realize it's late," Arvin said, manifesting a charm on the bearded militiaman even as he spoke. "But I won't have time to come back in the morning. I just need a quick word with the ambassador, and I'll be on my way." He smiled and drew the coin pouch from his boot. "I realize he'll be angry at you for annoying him a second time, but I can make it worth your while. Please let me speak with him. Tonight."
The bearded militiaman tilted his head-then shook it, like a man shaking himself awake. "No," he said firmly.
Arvin swore under his breath. The bearded man's mind must have been as tough as the rest of him.
The younger man stared greedily at Arvin's coin pouch. "Sergeant," he said in a low voice. "Couldn't we just-"
"That's enough, Rillis," The sergeant placed a hand on his sword hilt and stared at Arvin through the gate. "The merchant can come back at a civilized hour of the morning… or not at all."
Arvin let his hand fall away from his pouch. "In the morning, then," he said with a sigh. Then, "Could you at least tell me where to find a reputable inn?"
CHAPTER 5
The next morning, Arvin rose well before dawn. He dressed in his better clothes and ate a quick meal of fried cheese and thick-crusted bread. He waved away the ale the innkeeper offered; he wanted a clear head for this morning's work.
As he stepped outside the inn, the air bit at his lungs, crisp and cold. The sky to the east was turning a faint pink behind the clouds. It had snowed overnight; a few flakes were still falling from the sky. Snow crunched beneath Arvin's boots as he strode past merchants opening the shutters of their shops, boys kindling fires in the stoves of their mulled-wine carts, and men carrying heavy sacks on their backs as they made early-morning deliveries to the shops and homes in this part of the city. These
men were doing the work of slaves, yet not one of them had an S-brand on his cheek.
Arvin had heard that, while slavery existed in Sespech, it was an uncommon practice. Those slaves who did exist within the barony had been brought to Sespech by their masters. Hearing this and seeing it with his own eyes, however, were two different things. It felt odd to be walking along streets populated by free men. It was odder still to have no viaducts arching above-to be on a street that was open to the sky. For perhaps the first time in his life, Arvin walked without the slight hunch that a human in Hlondeth automatically adopted-the tensing of shoulders and neck that came with the constant awareness of the yuan-ti slithering along the viaducts overhead. He felt lighter, somehow, more sure of himself, relaxed.