Chapter Ten
Aside from Tyrael’s assignment, Queen Etara seemed uninterested in their activities, so long as her requirements were met.
Of the possible tasks, Donan had privately hoped to go in search of the missing expedition, but not because he wanted to avoid the dangers of Athulua and the Drowned.
Rather, he relished the mystery and the hunt, the puzzle of it, though he worried the others would think him cowardly if it seemed he wanted to escape the fight.
He even wondered if Lorath had volunteered only because he believed Donan inadequate to the challenge, or, worse, to protect him.
Adreona had seemed quite displeased with the arrangement imposed upon her. Donan assumed she would have objected to any of them coming with her, but it seemed particularly irksome to her when it was Lorath who stepped forward.
At the conclusion of their audience with Queen Etara, they wasted no time.
With Adreona’s approval, it was agreed that Keldon could sail Lorath and Adreona to Athulua on his ship, to keep the vessel closer to him, instead of leaving it in the Temis harbor.
Donan was glad for that, since the Arabel seemed so important to the sailor.
They were to leave immediately, and Donan and Tyrael decided to see them off down at the wharf.
They left through a wicket in the palace’s main entrance, leaving the larger, more impressive doors barred.
Outside, the grand portico offered staggering views of the city and the harbor below, where rowed ships skidded across the sparkling water like insects.
From that vantage, Donan could see several of the other Skovos islands, both near and distant.
He knew that Philios lay behind him, out of view on the other side of Temis.
To the southeast lay an isle covered in lush forests from which a soft mist seemed to emanate.
The wind from that direction smelled almost perfumed with floral fragrances and plant life.
“That is Lycander,” Adreona said, having noticed the direction of his attention. “It is a wild place, of abundant beauty, occupied by artists and philosophers. Young Amazons train to hunt in its forests, keeping the island’s residents safe.”
“I’ll remember that,” Donan said.
She turned and pointed in the opposite direction, to the northwest. “That is Athulua, which we passed sailing here. Beyond it lies Atanos.” She glanced at him sidelong. “I don’t think I need to remind you against traveling there. Beyond Atanos lies Celestia, which you can almost see from here.”
“What is that island like?”
“Somewhat abandoned,” she said. “I seldom have reason to go there. Seers from Philios keep an astronomical observatory on the coast.”
Beyond Celestia, dark clouds hung in the sky, but as Donan studied them, they ceased to resemble a thunderstorm and looked more like rising smoke. “What is that beyond Celestia?”
“That is Skartara,” she said. “It’s a volcanic island. Eruptions from Mount Hefaetrus render most of it uninhabitable. I can’t imagine you will have any reason to travel there.”
“I’m grateful for your advice,” Donan said.
“Then let me give you a little more. We Askari are proud, with an ancient and noble heritage. If you are treated with suspicion or distrust, please remember that we have endured great misfortune and loss. Trust can be dangerous in times like these, and we are reluctant to risk it. But if you prove yourself worthy of our trust, you will find no warmer people.”
“Thank you for that, Captain.”
Adreona gave him a subtle nod. “I wish you safety on your journey, wherever it takes you.”
They descended through the city along its paved streets and numerous switchbacks.
Donan noted the aspects of Temis that Tyrael had observed—boarded-up dwellings, empty shops, disrepair—and he came to the same conclusion: Malthael’s reapers had indeed laid waste to Skovos, just as they had throughout Sanctuary.
Yet conditions in Skovos did seem far better than in Westmarch, or Lut Gholein, or Entsteig, and Donan wanted to understand why.
That question would not be his primary mission, but Tyrael’s mild deception about their real purpose contained a degree of truth.
Down at the wharf, they found the Arabel safe and secured to the same pier where they had left her, deck and rigging well ordered.
Those who had searched her for evidence of piracy had apparently taken care to put her back to rights.
The day was sunny and calm, and in the water around the docks, Donan saw striped sheepshead fish searching for crustaceans.
A few Amazon warriors met their party near the ship.
They brought the Horadrim their packs, along with Donan’s staff and Lorath’s polearm. They did not have El’druin with them.
“Your sword is in Queen Etara’s safekeeping,” one of the women said.
Tyrael seemed unsurprised. “Is it, now?”
“She asks that you reclaim it from her.”
“You may inform her I will do so shortly,” he answered.
Lorath came over and took Donan’s shoulder in a firm grip.
“Your first mission on your own,” he said. “Are you ready?”
Donan sighed. “I was on my own when you found me, or have you forgotten? I know how to take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Then I won’t. And you don’t need to worry about me, even though I am sailing to a battlefront.”
Donan laughed. “Looking for a fight.”
“Always.”
Though they jested, they had both spoken a truth. “Tread carefully, Lorath.”
Then Tyrael approached and clasped Lorath’s forearm. “Send word as you can. And avoid unnecessary risk—”
“I know, I know,” Lorath said. “Farewell, both of you.”
By that time, a cutter had arrived to tow the Arabel out of the Great Harbor.
Lorath, Keldon, and Adreona boarded the ship, and soon they were underway.
Tyrael and Donan remained on the pier, watching them grow distant.
Gulls shrieked overhead, and a large cloud moved in front of the sun, plunging much of the city into shadow.
“Do you think the members of the previous expedition are still alive?” Donan asked.
“I do not know,” said Tyrael, “but I have hope.”
“If they are, they must be living in secret, given the reception we have received.”
“The same thought had occurred to me.”
“What else can you tell me about them?”
Tyrael looked up as if searching his far-reaching memory. “There were five Horadrim. I appointed a Xian woman named Sho-Ren as their leader. She had left her home to study in the Yshari Sanctum and became a mage of some skill. I remember her as someone with a very firm but even temperament.”
“A mage?” Donan considered that for a moment. “I think I will start on Philios.”
“Why there?”
“Just a hunch that a mage would be drawn more to the Oracle than the Amazons. That’s all I have to go on for now.”
Tyrael nodded. “Your reasoning is sound.”
“What will you do here? Aside from placating the queen?”
“I plan to listen.”
“What for?”
Tyrael turned toward him. “The secrets Myrina is keeping.”
Donan nodded, scanning the harbor. He had lost sight of the Arabel among the other ships.
Keldon and Lorath would soon be sailing toward Athulua.
He decided it was time he embarked, so after bidding Tyrael goodbye, he wandered the streets of Temis until he found a narrow shop selling provisions, although of limited supply.
The merchant wore his hair in oiled plaits and his face shaven, and his greeting was in a vernacular that Donan failed to understand.
This seemed to irritate the vendor, but he grudgingly switched to the common language of the continents to ask, “What do you want?”
“My apologies,” Donan said. “What were you speaking just then?”
“Coin-tongue.”
“Fascinating.” A dedicated language of trade suggested more robust commerce in the islands’ past, a time when they had exchanged commodities and goods with many nations and peoples. “I’m here for food and supplies,” Donan said. “I’ll be traveling in Skovos for a time.”
“You can see what I have,” the merchant said. “My shop is not what it was, and not what it should be.”
“What should it be?”
“Are you here to buy, or are you here to talk? I am here to sell, and that is all.”
“I’m…here to buy,” Donan answered.
He quickly selected some victuals that would last him long and keep well but soon realized he should have agreed on the prices beforehand.
The merchant wanted to charge much more than Donan would have expected to pay, even in an overpriced market, and the man could not be haggled any lower.
Back in Gea Kul, the merchants at least tried to justify their gouging with elaborate excuses and stories of misfortune, but the Skovos vendor seemed to feel no shame at all, as if Donan were in the wrong to expect any different.
He paid the man but was left wondering if an Askari would have received the same price or if he was paying an outsider’s premium.
He left the shop and continued through the city.
Perhaps it was the lingering residue of that encounter dimming his perspective, but afterward it seemed that every eye he met looked back at him with suspicion and even outright hostility.
He had planned to purchase a few more things, such as a length of good rope and perhaps a tarpaulin to sleep under if he were ever caught in the rain, but he gave up on these and returned to the docks, hoping to buy passage on the first ship to Philios.
On one of the piers, he saw dockhands unloading sacks of grain from an Askari cargo vessel, and the goods all bore the trident stamp he had noticed on the wine bottles.
They labored under the watchful gaze of several Amazons who wore the armor and silken tabards of the Askarra Guard.
He approached one of the warriors with his query, but she seemed confused by it.
“I suppose there might be a ship that could carry you,” she said. “But most people take the Eye.”
“The Eye?”