Chapter Twenty-Four #2
I stifle a snort. This ship was the only one recommended, after two careful days of picking around Phrygis’s docks, making inquiries about reaching a destination that, strictly speaking, shouldn’t be one any upstanding citizen should be asking about.
The crawl of eyes trying to glean our intentions made things even edgier than they’d been while traveling.
Exhausted and twitchy, we keep our hoods drawn when on the streets, taking special care to avoid clerics and city officials—anyone whose social stratum might be worth infiltrating.
Any gaze that lingers a little too long is suspect, and I find myself searching for hints of the unnatural—a too-bright glaze, a reddening, the gleam of realization.
In Lumeris, Belspire, even Sethane, I wouldn’t have given these people a second glance.
Common, weak, and meant to serve us. Now any of them could be a Renderer in disguise. Any one of them could be our undoing.
If this worry needles him as much as it does me, he hides it.
“Let me do the talking,” Nolan said at the start of our search, more an order than a request. “You wanted us to work together,” he pressed when I objected.
“So let’s work together. There’s no smashing through the door here, killing everyone to get what you want.
And I’ve no interest in sneaking aboard and hiding in some musty corner of a hold.
If we find a ship that goes to Cyprene, we need to make them think we are worth having aboard.
” He waited for me to argue this. I couldn’t.
I have to admit that Nolan looks the part he’s playing, that of an enterprising, ambitious young merchant, clad in new garb we acquired for him upon arrival.
Unassuming enough to not draw attention, high-quality enough to hint at means.
Still, a boat to Cyprene isn’t as easy to find as a new jacket.
But between that and his newly calibrated persona, the captain seems to be interested.
At least, she hasn’t tossed us out on our butts yet.
“And where exactly do you wish to go?” The captain doesn’t ask who recommended her ship, or why.
Which is interesting, though Nolan only smiles knowingly as he sips his tea. “To where your ship goes, and others don’t.”
Captain Cleophas refills his cup from an exquisitely patterned pot unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, then sits back, considering the request. She’s tall, with a very dark complexion that tells me either she or her recent ancestors were born somewhere beyond the Devoted Lands; bare, muscled arms; and what I suspect is real gold woven into her braided hair.
I like her almost immediately—her weird tea set, her cabin filled with exotic trinkets, but especially her maps pinned to the walls.
For the first time, I am able to fill in the margins of Prior Petronilla’s map.
There’s unfamiliar coastlines, inlets to foreign rivers, even an archipelago shaped like a sleeping cat.
It sets off a deep ache in me, and a desire to contradict Nolan and pick out one of these other places instead.
Except… I wouldn’t make it that far. Which adds jealousy to my longing.
Captain Cleophas is clearly untethered, able to go where she wants, when she wants.
Meanwhile, she stares at Nolan, who remains unfazed by the lingering examination.
If pressed, his story is that he is from a modest but upcoming family, with a very particular business opportunity.
Which of course he couldn’t share, but is willing to pay handsomely to reach his desired destination.
None of this has been spoken aloud, and yet he manages to exude the vague shape of it with unnerving ease.
“You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid,” she says. “This ship goes many places.”
Wary. A good sign. Or bad, if we’ve made a poor choice. There’s nothing in Cleophas that indicates she’s thinking about picking us apart for a profit, but the wrong sort of request could get us reported to the local authorities, trouble we don’t need.
“Cyprene.” Nolan tosses the word out like a coin, telling me he doesn’t read anything threatening in the captain either. Or he’s eager enough not to care. “Though I’d rather keep my reasons for the destination to myself.”
“A common enough sentiment.” The unspoken finally spoken, the captain sits a little straighter. “The Goddess favors you. Cyprene is among the destinations we are headed to, and I have a cabin available. But this is not an inexpensive passage.” She names an exorbitant figure.
Nolan’s soft, satisfied smile doesn’t falter. “That’s robbery.”
“This isn’t a pleasure cruise.”
“Good,” says Nolan, “because I prefer business.” His teacup clinks gently as he returns it to its saucer. “Your price is acceptable. As long as it comes with privacy.”
Captain Cleophas’s lips spread into a feline smile. “Guaranteed, so long as you observe the same for the rest of the Squid’s passengers.”
“Of course. I would ask that we depart soon, though. My business is… pressing.” An impatient note leaks into his tone, though I can’t tell if it’s affected or real.
Time is not on our side. At least no one in Phrygis is buzzing about any new avatars…
yet. Still, if the heretic headed to Carsaire is already on his way to Cyprene, we can only hope they will linger there, give us time to arrive and root them out.
“We sail on the evening tide,” says Cleophas, “with stops along the coast before we reach your destination. My cabin boy Mishael will see your horses into the hold and your baggage to the cabin.”
“Excellent,” Nolan replies, though I can tell from the slight tightness of the word that, if he had his way, we’d be raising anchor immediately.