Demon of the Black Gate

Oskara lives on a narrow neck of rocky land that edges the Sultan Sea and bordered by the Salt arm of the Assai desert to the north. After crossing the mirrored flat of the desert, Cerra had at most a half a day’s ride before reaching the rural outskirts of the city. The sea lay shallow near the mouth of the Emerald river, the alluvial flow settling as the river runs into the sea. Oskara began as a village that crowded the rich delta of the river, and over time grew across the braid of channels and islets and even into the shallows of the sea itself. Much of Oskara was built on stilts, and the river channels home to traffic, commerce and mooring. The city is built on trade of goods that arrive by water and bound for the Stands or east to the upper Jimals.

Cerra rode into the meager outskirts of the city, occupied more by goats than people. When the horse reached the caravan road, the demon halted their progress.

“I shall travel apart for awhile.” he said. “I shall be close, do not fear. There are too many of your people.”

“I suppose that is best.” replied Cerra. “I rather enjoy you next to me though. Well, here is the next part of the journey. Where will you be?”

“I will be immersed in the water. I shall be all around you. You will know I am there.” said the demon.

He too felt a pang, a strangeness.

“There shall be a small storm preceding your arrival.” he continued. “If any seek to harm you. There shall be a bigger storm.”

“You have a care.” she said. “I will be fine. I have great faith in my fellows. They shall not harm me.”

“You have more … faith … than I do.” the demon replied. “I have seen the evil of men. I am a fruit of that.”

“No.” she said loudly. “Whatever you are, you are still your own … person. I can see that. We just have to relieve this, this curse. And though I still don’t know what I am to do, it is must be why I am here. If I believed you to be the fruit of evil, I would hardly have left my house. I would that you slayed me immediately. Now hush. I am looking forward to your storm.”

“Your entrances are always so dramatic.” she added with a laugh.

The demon was torn by her thoughts. What was he? It was a turmoil that helped create the chaos of the storm that followed.

“I shall be close.” was all he said.

“You have my love.” said Cerra. “and my mind too it seems. So talk to me as you will. I will be listening.”

The demon was already gathering himself. The elements of earth that molded him started to dissolve and mix with the air. The fires of electricity groaned and cracked as he drew in the skies.

Those along the edges of the city saw the storm rise from the desert, a black ferocious cloud that crackled with energies and boiled with loose grit. Most said they saw the face of the devil in the churning cloud that floated over the city.

Wind whipped at Cerra’s clothes as she watched the blue/white form of the demon dissolve and spread to the skies. “A good trick.” she thought.

The reply burned quickly in her mind. “The price is steep.”

A grim smile pursed her lips. Indeed it was.

She heard the storm in front of her. Sugar had settled again, agitated by the departure of the demon. She urged her horse forward.

“Find yourself a stable, Sugar. You’re going to get a rest.”

The wandering path that Sugar followed led Cerra to the North Gate, a lesser entry to the city, used mostly by the local farmers and herders that worked the sparse lands bordering the desert. She felt a brief wave of cool air as she passed unremarked through the stone of the gate. The smithies, camel pullers, and wranglers held court at the edges of town near the caravaner’s road. She smelt the odor of livestock and heard the lowing of penned cattle, the activity of horse and the grunts of camels. Above it came the clear ringing clang of a smith. She thought it a good place to start. She reined her horse to the sound, then let Sugar find her way through the activity of the road. A few wagons and riders clattered with hurried noise past her.

Luskin Sternman was a displaced Northerner, a mountain of a man among so many slighter individuals. He didn’t have the cocoa-colored faces of his brethren, instead one reddened by the continual fires of the forge. He was well-suited for his task of beating metals to shape, and was working on some horseshoes when a prodigious amount of thunder rumbled in the sky.

He looked up to see storm clouds roiling in the heavens and a woman with fiery hair astride a mottled horse meander toward his stalls and forge. She looked unusual to be sure, and the ominous, thundrous clouds hung in the sky as if announcing her arrival. She was clad in the thin riding robe of the Cherros, and traveling alone. He squinted. There appeared to be a cat in the saddle with her. While she didn’t seem in a hurry, she took an odd path as she approached. She didn’t cross at a normal angle, and other riders and wagons had to adjust with jostling and hoots. She stopped her horse near his shop, but not at the posts set to tie the horses. She waited, as if listening.

“May I help ye, ma’am” he offered, putting down his hammer and dousing the shoe he’d been working in the water trough at hand.

“Why yes. I’m looking for a stable. I need a place to keep my horse for a few days. Do you know of a good place?” She looked at him when he spoke, but not quite. Her dark brown eyes were unreadable.

“Well if that isn’t bedlams biscuits. Are ye blind?” he said pointing at the sign above his shop.

“That would be the case.” she said with a laugh. “But I can hear your honest work and ...” she paused for effect “ … absorb the rarified air of your stables. You have at least ten horse, no stallions, and a handful of camels in the back yard if I’m not mistaken. I hope your sign does it all justice.“

Luskin only puzzled a moment on her reply before he fathomed what she had said. He suddenly felt very awkward.

“Well Bedamns!” he shuffled into action, trying to brush his hands on something clean.

“Ma’am.” let me help you down. “Fair Price Smithy. That’s the sign. You have chosen the best.”

“You are most kind. Off you go, cat.” she said flashing a grin. Luskin felt that it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. The cat lit to the ground and looked around warily.

She lay out an arm. Luskin raised his and she let him carry her from the horse to stand on the dusty street. She smiled up at him brightly.

“Thank you so much. I am Cerra ... Meadows. Of Amberland Gap.”

The burg she mentioned was not a familiar one to him. “Be that in the Stands? I offer no offense, ma’am. But you are … beggin’ your forgiveness … sightless. How are you here?”

“Not seeing all that the world has to offer does present some challenges.” she replied. “But as you see, I AM here. I must confess to being a little lost, but I am also quite sure I am in the right place. This is Maabi, is it not?” she said with enthusiastic emphasis.

“Oh, ma’am.” said Luskin aghast. “I have dire news then. You have found Iskara.”

Cerra laughed and patted his close shoulder, feeling the leather and heavy canvas of his clothes. “Forgive me my jest. I am having you on, for Iskara is truly my goal.”

Luskin chuckled when he realized he had been led on. She had successfully countered his opening remark. He liked her.

The blind woman continued. “I have found that what I need seems to pop up in front of me as I need it. And here you are.”

Luskin was unsure whether to guide her or the horse and determined he could do both. He grabbed the rein of her horse and offered his elbow to her, which she took gratefully. Thunder rolled heavily in the sky above her.

“Let’s get out of the open.” offered the blacksmith. “This is odd weather, and I don’t like the look of it much.”

“I would most enjoy a seat that is not a saddle.” said Cerra with bright enthusiasm. “I have been riding it seems for weeks. Perhaps I have.”

“You come through the north gate. Did you make from Deneles?”

“Where is that?” she replied. “No, I came down from the grasslands. I lasted visited the Cherros”

“You have on the robes of those clans. Surely you are not one? I’d be sayin’ never have I seen red hair among ’em.”

“No I am not a Cherro, though they are very nice. The women offered me these robes as better suited for riding on the plains than what I had. I must say they are correct.”

“Ma’am. How is this? The horse clans are known, and terribly sometimes, for abducting women to add to their numbers.”

“Really? They seemed hospitable enough. Though, as you mention it,” she added with a chuckle. “I did have to insist when I was ready to leave.”

Luskin was unconvinced, yet here she was. He led her past the forge to the stable. The sky overhead rumbled with the dark storm.

“Your forge is hot, Master Smith” she said as he lead her past his work. “ ... but not so hot as that desert. Even at night. I swear you can feel it from here.”

“You crossed the Hellesmere?” he asked, not believing. He looked at the legs of her horse. There was the unmistakeable glittered dusting of the salts.

“At night to be sure, though I swear I could have cooked a rabbit tied to my saddle as I went. I didn’t linger believe me. Can you spare some oats and and a little grain for the horse? She was marvelous!”

Luskin let out a hearty laugh.

“Lady, you kin have what ye like. Now set here, and I’ll get the missus. Not to worry about your horse …”

“Sugar”

“... Sugar” he added, guiding her to a bench. “I’ll be right back. I don’t see your cat.”

“Oh, Kamir. Well, you won’t be seeing a mouse or two either if you have them. If they are pets, I apologize in advance.” she laughed. “He will be around.”

Luskin led the horse to the stable chuckling. The woman was near his daughter’s age, and hardly tall enough to reach his shoulder. Alone and blind and yet apparently undaunted. He thought of the metals of his forge. She had been wrought of stern stuff. Plucky. A fine figure too, as bold as her smile. He thought of the missus. Ah yes.

“Lottie! Come here, woman, quick. We have a guest.”

“You have chosen well. There is no evil here.”

The demons words ticked in her mind.

“I know that, I can feel it too. But thank you. My perceptions can be wrong too. You no longer have to hang over me.” She added with a cheerful note. “Rest as you can. Where shall you be?”

“Water is all around. I shall be there. Watching.”

The smith returned, bearing her small saddle bags.

“I have your bags, lady.” he offered. “And the missus, Lottie I mean, she’ll be ’long with something of a bite to eat for you.”

“You are most kind.” Cerra offered. She heard the bags drop at the foot of her chair. “Are we under the eaves?”

“We are that, ma’am.” he said.

“Good. It is going to rain quite heavily for a moment.” she said, gazing blankly to the street.

The grumbling of the mottled thick clouds answered with a sudden deluge. It came in such a rush that the air fairly churned. Most of the market, well out in the canals, was drenched by the sudden spate. The wiser ones, seeing the pocket of roiling clouds had hastily covered their wares on the approach of the noisome front. The rest had simply marveled at the unseasonable and hellish cast to the small storm before it erupted in a torrent. As heavy as the rain was, it was over in moments and the growling storm dissipated in a boiling vapour leaving the reeded passages dripping.

The deluge was enough to render the streets muddy in an instant. As many came out of doors to marvel as those that ducked into doorways to escape drenching. Luskin watched the woman as she sat on the bench, staring out at the scene, unseeing eyes bright and alive. The smile on her face was infectious. It was as if she had never known a frown. He wondered what enrapted her so.

For Cerra, the rain itself was a dissolution of the demon, and she saw his familiar blue white energy falling like stars and merging into rillets. The rain itself was like music. Hitting the pots and awnings and reed and ground; the cries for cover and children’s delighted yelps.

“You are beautiful when you rain.” she thought.

She perceived a response from the demon. She couldn’t tell if it was flattering or not but it made her smile. The rain stopped as suddenly as it began, and the delicate coda of water dripping into the gathered puddles accompanied the return of the bright sun on her face as the ominous cloud vanished.

“The sky has shaken itself as bad as a bag-shaggy cur. Passin’ strange gully washer. Wot?” declared Luskin. “Surely you’ll stay a few days … and with us, me n’ the missus, if you like. I can’t recommend any of the inns near here. They’d rob ye blind … uh, … to be sure.”

Luskin bit his tongue in silent admonishment: always puttin’ yer foot into it aren’t ye Luskin.”

If Cerra heard the unintentional slight, she took no notice.

“Oh, you are too kind. But I have important business in Abyssin. I fear I cannot delay. So I shall be needing a boat, or passage rather. Have you a recommendation?”

Luskin didn’t need to think but a moment. Many of the shippers and fishermen commissioned him for forged parts. He knew a family of traders and one of their clan would be at their slips. The reeds and floating avenues of Oskara were a maze for the unschooled, and for one blind ... he didn’t like the thought of her wandering alone in the busy waterfronts and quays. And the sort that frequented the trade docks and wharves were tough and dispassionate. He feared robbery at best, and at worst … he shuddered at the thought and adopted a protective air.

“I’ll arrange it m’self. I know exactly the man to see you to Abyssin.”

“There you are!” Cerra heard a voice, and a rush of fabric.

“My wife, Lottie.”

“And who are you,” she said cheerfully. Without waiting for an answer, she helped Cerra to her feet. “Come on in here with me. Luskin, get back to your work. I’ll take care of her. What was your name again?”

Lottie led her back to their small house, chattering about the heat and unseasonable rain and the promise of a cool drink and some dates.

#

Sinjin felt the relief of the night sky. He had been impatient he knew, and he hoped he would not have to pay to heavy a price. Already his horse felt hot and too lathered. He slowed the pace, but kept the strong beast moving relentlessly forward.

As he had hoped, he made it across the harsh salt flats well before the sun came up. He saw the regular paced tracks of the witch’s horse as they shifted up the rocky sands that bordered the mirrored desert. The woman had fairly raced the horse in the middle of the flats, which surprised him. He had not seen any speed from her at all during this journey. Doubtless she knew the dangers of being caught in that unforgiving salt pan in the heat of day.

He came upon the pool that the demon had fashioned for Cerra. Sinjin did not know the origins, but the sculpted rock was polished as if created by artisans. The water was cool and refreshing. He saw the one set of tracks no others led from the pool. Given such a rarity as fresh water out here he was curious why. Perhaps more evidence of the witches’ power. He looked about for any gems as he had found in the firepits, but there were none.

The tracks led a bit southwest, a due course for Oskara. He would have no difficulty locating her in that place. He knew the town well, and there were eyes he could hire if need be. He let his horse recover at the pool for a few moments, before turning toward the shoreline city, just a few barren hillocks away. He saw storm clouds in the distance, thick and intense. He didn’t remember seeing such on the horizon earlier. And it was of a distance that it must be near the coast or over the city itself.

He arrived in Oskara just after the noon crier sang from the short cupola that sprouted from the North Gate. Sinjin looked at the wet muddy streets trying to steam themselves dry. The storm had indeed unleashed over the small city.

Luskin saw Sinjin as the man passed his smithy and noted the same white powder on the horses feet that he’d seen on the young woman’s. Her horse had been well run, though not as ill-used. She had been traveling with purpose, though anyone crossing that stretch of desert would do well to travel with purpose. This rider’s beast was also spent, and obviously ridden much harder. The horse bore a mark of the Cherros on its flank. The man had the feral look of a pursuer.

Sinjin felt the eyes of someone upon him, though the blacksmith was quick and subtle to lower his own as Sinjin’s gaze was turned upon those about. He delivered another blow to the casing he was forging. He would inquire of the girl. He expected he might be giving her a warning as well. The man did not look like a friend.

After the man was well past, he doused the glowing iron. His home lay behind the forge, fashioned from the dried clays of the old shore and mixed with horse dung. The thick earthen walls kept the insides comfortable, for the northern shore of the Sultan sea lay under a brilliant sun in most of the seasons.

The spontaneous storm that arose from the north was unusual, especially its sudden fury. Puddles still lay steaming, unable to penetrate much of the baked surfaces. He thought of how she’d shown up with the storm, and even knew the moment it would shower itself to dissolution. And now, a lone rider trails her. Strange days.

He stepped into the cool rooms. He could hear his wife and the girl, their voices coming lively from the kitchen. It sounded as though Lottie was talking with one of her best friends. Obviously they were getting on well.

“I see all is well back here.” he offered. “Trust the womenfolk to provide hospitality.”

“Your wife is such a kind soul.” said Cerra. “She’s even made an attempt on my hair, though I confess I’ve challenged her greatly. I broke my last pin too.”

She held up the broken knitting needle as proof.

“I want to show Cerra the market.” said Lottie. “We have such a good one that ...”

Luskin interrupted.

“Lady …

“Cerra, please I beg of you.”

“uh Cerra. I wonder if a tour is a good idea.” said Luskin. He pulled up a stool, and sat at the iron and oak table across from the blind woman.

“I seen a man, jest a few moments ago … I think he’s following you. His horse was salted, much like yours ma’am. He just crossed the Hellesmere by the look of it. And not long after you. He was riding a Cherros horse, but he is no Cherrokai” said Luskin, using the slang for the riders.

“I thought I should tell ye. And I should say, with your hair, if you’ll excuse me, it’s red y’know, and it’ll stand out here like a dancers skirt in a temple, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

Cerra thought of the time in the mountains when the demon had the same sense of someone following.

“It is the one whose leg you tended.” She felt the demon’s presence in her mind.

“Had he an injured leg?”

“I couldna tell. I didn’t see him walking. There weren’t no blood on his pants, leastways what I could see.”

“Well there is nothing to be done I suppose,” Cerra replied. “But you’re right. It wouldn’t be wise to go wandering about. I shouldn’t tarry in any event. Can I trouble you to get me to the harbor?”

“Not a worry. Stay here n’ enjoy yer tea. An’ let me look at that hair thing of yours.” Luskin took the broken pieces from Cerra and started for the door before it occurred for him to add: “By the way, it is the tides that make the time here if yer leaving by boat, be it dhou or vebec.”

“The seas are full at the height of the moon.” came the demons thought. “I feel it myself. It shall be just before the sun rises.”

“Morning then, just before the sun rises.” conceded Cerra.

Luskin cast her a sidelong glance, curious about her accuracy. “It must be a woman thing” he mused to himself. Cerra heard Luskin leave, then the shout from the small courtyard as the smithy called for his apprentice.

“Pattin. Git on down to Shevrin’s wharf and find out if he’s still got that beddammed sedan chair that I fixed the braces fer him last year. While yer at it, get Shevrin to haul his arse up here. And tell him to make it quick or I sells his rigging.”

Luskin ducked his head back in. Kamir followed between his feet. The black cat made a low, purr-like sound when it darted suddenly and jumped up on her lap. Cerra got her customary turns and head pushes before the cat settled down.

“Now don’t worry about a thing ma’am, er ... Miss Cerra, I can get you to Abyssin as neat as you like. And yer cat got fed. A mouse ... er’ former mouse. Nothing to show for it except the tail.”

#

Sinjin inquired along a row of inns and hostels, looking for a red-haired woman. None were able to offer him any clues, though more than a few of the establishments offered a substitute for a reasonable price. He left word with one of his fellow Hashini at one of the backwater hostels. It was good to be back in familiar territory. If the woman was to be seen, he would know. He would find her quickly in this bustling town.

That she’d leave by ship was evident so Sinjin spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting the docks and observing boats that looked laden and ready to leave. Since the destruction of the Black Gate, many of the boats were idle. Only the trade with the Upper Jamals was coming through the port. Many were grumbling about the grievous toll the imperial war had taken on the city by the effective closing of the Stands, and the tax collectors had come in with new levies. The news that the sieging army had been destroyed by an inopportune flood was viewed as a boon. Sinjin withheld his opinions, after all, what did the commoner know?

He found a fellow Hashini, one that he could count on to ferry him across the Sultan Sea. He did not believe that the woman was destined to stay here. Abyssin made the most sense. Rovinkar would be there. Things had a way of finding the center, and Abyssin was at the center of things. He made his arrangements. If he was correct, the woman would be seen at the next sailings when the tide would draw the vessels safely from the piers and into sea room. At dawn.

It was the still of the dark when two burly seamen arrived at Luskin’s forge with the sedan chair. The sun was still two hours from rising, not even the promise of false dawn offered light. Cerra was already up. She had made it out to the paddock fence, and was giving Sugar a bit of turnip. She felt another transition.

“Oh Sugar, you’ve been so good to put up with me. And you’ve lead me true. You would be the dam of any herd.” She had a hard time stifling a sniff. “I’ll miss you. I’ll be back, I promise.”

The heavy smells of the ocean married with the earthen and animal scents of the stalls. She would soon lose the sense of the one, and forced to deal with the other.

“Yer chair is here.” said Luskin, coming up to her on the fence. Sugar lifted her head and whinnied.

“There, there, Sugar. Maybe you’ll pick up a colt while I’m gone. Enjoy your time with your sisters, dear girl. Don’t worry. You’ll bring me home too.”

She nuzzled the horse briefly.

“She’s in good hands, not to worry there.” said Luskin, resting his calloused hands on her shoulder. “I get the best hay in Oskara. She’ll be fat and happy. You’ll see. I mean … well, come on Cerra, lass. The boat won’t wait.”

She let him lead her to the chair. She was still dressed in the fawn colored, hooded robe of the Charros. There had been no time to acquire anything else. She only took one bag that contained her small clothes and the satchel with her most essential medicines and toiletries. Something of her was being left behind at every stop. If she had just part of the world to travel, she wondered if she would arrive with nothing left but her smile. Luskin assured her that the captain would provide her foul weather clothes should weather close in. The storm yesterday had caused a great deal of conversation in the town taverns and speculation of the end of days always seemed to arise in such dire talk.

Lottie gave her a deep hug, and slipped a small bag in the satchel.

“I thought you’d like these … some minced dates and honey rolled in coconut.” she explained. “And a piece of ginger root. You aren’t familiar with the ocean. For some … well it makes ’em queasy-like. Just chew on a little of the ginger if you start feeling poorly.”

“I love ginger.” said Cerra. “And I didn’t know that about it. But it makes sense. I always recommend it for sore bones or for women’s cramps and such.”

“Of course. Well, do you know then …”

“Ladies … Lottie ... please. The lads have to get to the ship.”

“And here too, Luskin made these up for you.” Lottie placed two finely wrought pins into her hands. “For your hair. Luskin, bless him, likes to show off. He made you these like the wood ones you broke.”

Cerra felt the polished metal and the light tracings that criss-crossed its length. These would hold with marvelous effect and never break. She stuffed them in her bag with a bright smile, Luskin was surprised when she turned and held him deeply and firmly. Her hand ran down his cheek and permanent three-day growth of beard.

“You’re a good man, Luskin Smith. I’ll be back for my horse.”

She let Luskin help her into the chair, which he did with all the service of one of the emperor’s footmen. Her small frame had to tuck and duck to settle into the chair comfortably.

“Kamir, Kamir” she called, and heard the cat pad a few leaps from the edge of the house and jump into the chair, wedging himself in beside her him.

“We’re ready. As you can see, I have my guide.”

The small door clicked shut.

“Now you be safe, girl.” said Luskin.

Cerra could hear a stifled sniff from Lottie.

“I’ll be just fine.” she said with cheer, though she felt another part of her existence slip away.

She hadn’t thought of a protective curtain, but then she heard Luskin slip the fabric across the open window. A pair of wiry seamen hoisted the chair and set off down the packed clay street to the wharves that set out over the water.

By now the blackness of the sky was gathering some faint color at the edges as the sun threatened to eclipse the horizon. In a city that lives by the tempo of the sea, there were enough souls about, rising to their daily employment as bakers, cooks and fisherfolk, that the streets were already coming alive with quiet determination.

The spice shops of Oskara were not known as well as that of Abyssin, but Cerra knew it when she passed the alleys where the spice merchants gathered. Even though the shops were shuttered, the aroma of clove and cinnamon intruded upon the air. She would have liked to have ridden or walked along the passage, rather than cooped in the chair. The sounds arrived to her ears confused and without clear direction.

She heard the change of footsound when the bearers reached the paths of reed and plank that incorporated the wharves of Oskara. She was over the water now, and she could feel the overpowering dampness of it. She thought of her little dock stuck out into the small lake at her house. It made her smile. She thought of the demon. His elemental nature. Part of the water now. Below her.

“Yes.” came the thought. “I am … around you.”

“You must tell me what that feels like sometime.” she returned.

She heard the cries of gulls, the sounds of which she’d never heard. Their raucous calls were harsher and longer than crows, so in her mind she made their beaks harsher and longer, and painted them white and blue like the water. She’d have to have someone describe them to her. The scents and sounds of the wharves jumbled over her: fish, creaking wood and slaps of water. Lines running through blocks. She wanted to feel the air on her face, and the temptation to set her face out beyond the curtain was overpowering.

The little covered chair swayed with the bearer’s gait. She nearly pitched forward when they made a sharp sudden turn and trotted down a steep ramp, but she was quick to brace herself. The rolling under the surface of the bearers feet was evident to her. They must be on a floating walk. She had just concluded that when the chair settled, and the door was quickly unlatched.

Sinjin saw the sedan chair pass. In a place like Oskara, sedan chairs were fairly common. The women of the higher classes preferred them. But one scrurried through the wharves in the gray hours of false dawn was worth closer scrutiny. He slipped unnoticed behind the moving sedan, and followed at a discreet distance. There were many other boats in the wharves, and while he tailed the sedan, he kept his eye searching for other clues, a flash of red hair, perhaps a woman traveling alone in this watery maze.

The sedan took a turn down a smaller finger of the docks. There was no exit. He placed himself in a position to watch, busying himself with some cordage that lay piled nearby. The sedan stopped near the end of the rickety pier. The door opened as soon as the bearers had settled the car, and a dark-skinned sailor with a topknot swung himself to the dock to greet its occupant. The man was bare-chested, strong and fit, and extended a helping hand with the gracious ease of a courtier. A woman stepped hesitantly out. She was covered in a light tan robe, with its cowl pulled over her head. She started toward the short ramp, guided by the sailor. There were two others that gathered on deck. The woman turned her head away from him, and then up, as though checking the rigging of the boats, before delivering her attention to the ramp that put her on the deck of the ship. A black cat scampered up behind. The man with the topknot led her below while the other two cast off the lines. A small sail rose, which they backed to ease the felucca away from her ties.

Sinjin only caught one glimpse of the trailing curls of red that escaped from the hood of the womans cowl when she gazed upward, but that was all he needed. They were underway. He had made his own arrangements for a vessel should he need one. He watched the boat as it eased into one of the channels that would take it beyond the seawall and out to deeper water. He noted the line and pennants. In the busy fishery beyond the walls, the boat might be lost in a shuffle of boats as they worked their nets. There was repaired seam in the foresail that had been oversewn with red canvas. A small but easy mark to see, one he could seek out later, so long as they didn’t change the sail.

When he’d seen enough, he backtracked down the wharf to an adjoining pier that took its own avenue out over the waters. Past the bait-sellers, mongers and traders he found the clutch of docks where his own boat lay awaiting his arrival.

It was at the earliest light of dawn that Sinjin dropped down to the deck of the dark felucca. The men that dropped the lines and moved the boat away from the piers were not local fisherfolk. There was no tattered pants or soiled turbans. They were of uniform dress, black pants and leather chest guards. No one remarked their passage from the docks. No one would dare. There was plenty of work to keep eyes diverted.

A cage of pigeons was tied onto a bulkhead on the aft deck. Sinjin fastened a small tube to the leg of one and sent it on its way, circling in the air amid the gulls before flapping South for Abyssin. He had finally seen the witch, and her destination was clear. Abyssin. Rovinkar would need to know.