Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms (40 page)

“I wonder what Chandara mating
habits are? Perhaps someone should ask it.” Shann
chuckled.

“I nominate you,” Alondo
countered. “Anyhow, we can’t do much more till then, so Lyall has a
surprise planned for tomorrow.”

Shann’s eyes grew round. “What is
it?”

“Can’t say.
It’s a secret.” Shann looked at him doe eyed. “Well, all right,
since you
forced
it out of me, we’re having a celebration at an inn near the
wharf, The Calandra.

Her eyes lit up, then her face
fell almost immediately. “But…I haven’t anything to
wear.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Alondo
confided, “It’s not that kind of celebration.”

“Oh,” Shann responded, not
entirely understanding his meaning. She grew quiet, as her main
preoccupation pushed itself to the forefront of her thoughts yet
again. “Alondo?”

“Yes?”

“What do we do if Annata doesn’t
contact us?”

“You have to have faith,
Shann.”

She sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve
never been very religious.”

“I wasn’t talking about that kind
of faith–although there is a place for that. I meant faith in the
people around you, those you work with, who want the same things
you do…like Keris.” Alondo flashed a sideways glance as if he had
thrown a ball and wanted to see if she would catch it.

Shann was staring out across the
sea once more. “She would have left him to die.”

“You mean Lyall?” Alondo followed
her gaze out to sea as if he were seeking the same answers as she
was. “Did you know that she was preparing to go down there with
Boxx to get you when you two turned up?”

Shann felt the
old resentment welling up inside her.
This
is Alondo. He thinks well of everyone.
“I
don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,
Shann. I was out of it, as you know. It was her idea to go after
you. She was going to go alone. I persuaded her to take Boxx. Then
you and Lyall appeared out of nowhere.” He frowned. “You know,
Keris was right. As Keltar, she is trained to think tactically in
any action, to assess the odds. The odds said that Lyall should
have been dead, that any attempt to rescue him would only put more
lives at risk. However,” he put his arm around her shoulder, “what
she doesn’t know–
what you proved
–is that sometimes, love and friendship can beat
the odds.”

A tear rolled down Shann’s cheek
as they sat in silence together, listening to the gentle soughing
of the dimly sunlit sea.

~

Sakara. A heady perfume of salt,
sweat and spice. The creaking of masts. The gentle lapping of water
against the quayside. Gundir barking. Children chasing each other
through a maze of oddly shaped crates. Weather-worn sailors and
thieves jostling with noble women and grandees. Gaudy merchants
proffering exotic articles from beneath the shelter of brightly
coloured awnings. Birds wheeling overhead, squabbling for scraps.
Shann’s senses were overcome by the rush of sensations. Sakara was
Life–raw, unalloyed, unpretentious.

The party strolled across the
wharf. Barques and luggers were laid to, side by side, their masts
crammed together like an offshore forest. Alondo took in the scene
with a sweep of his hand. “Well,” he grinned at Shann, “what do you
think?”

“It’s...amazing,” she replied
honestly. She pointed to a tall figure in a green jacket and large
plumed hat, who seemed to be watching over the goings on at the
docks like a hungry perridon. “Is that one of them?”

“One of the Asoli, yes,” Alondo
affirmed. “Don’t worry. They won’t bother anyone unless they spot
an infraction of the commerce laws.”

Keris had been watching over
Boxx, fending off the prying looks of onlookers with her own fierce
stare. The curiosity seekers scurried away, suddenly recalling some
life or death errand. She turned to Lyall anxiously. “I’m not sure
this place is safe for Boxx.”

Lyall regarded the Chandara, who
was standing on its hind limbs, watching the hustle and bustle with
its head cocked to one side. “I’m sure it will be fine. People are
bound to be inquisitive–the overwhelming majority will never have
seen a Chandara before. But remember, all forms of violence are
strictly forbidden here. Besides, this is a very cosmopolitan city.
Folk are used to sights that are out of the ordinary.”

“Kelanni Live Close Here. Like
Chandara In The Great Tree.” Boxx’s chirping voice sounded wistful,
homesick.

Lyall bent down to address the
creature directly. “Boxx, how many days till the next message from
Annata?”

“One,” it responded
confidently.

Lyall drew himself erect again,
“Well we can’t do much until then. So later on, after some
sightseeing, I thought we might make a night of it.”

“At the Calandra,” Shann
finished.

Lyall’s eyes narrowed. He looked
from Shann to Alondo and back again. “Yes, at the Calandra. I see
our musician friend’s tongue has been wagging again.”

“She forced it out of me,” Alondo
pleaded.

“I’m sure she did.” Lyall’s face
was serious, but his blue eyes had a twinkle in them.

Keris’ forehead was creased. “I
assume that is a drinking establishment? I think we should avoid
doing anything to attract attention to ourselves. In any case, I
don’t drink; neither does Boxx. And the girl is too
young.”

Shann shot the older woman a look
of pure resentment. Fortunately, Lyall cut in before she could
respond. “Nonsense. If she is old enough to save my life, then
she’s old enough for a mug of horge. As for Boxx, it might enjoy
liquor for all we know. I don’t recall anyone having asked it. You
are welcome to come with us. You can drink plain water if you like
and make sure we don’t embarrass ourselves too much.”

Shann felt a
wicked sense of satisfaction at seeing Keris put in her place.
Whatever tomorrow held in store, she was going to enjoy this
evening.
Perhaps it’s time for a new
outfit, after all?
Smiling brightly, she
hooked her arm into Alondo’s and led him off towards the brightly
coloured stalls.

~

The Calandra was set in an
imposing four storey terrace, fronting the wharf area. Shann had
learned that Calandra was the name of a famous ship, captained by a
certain Arval, who seemed to have more stories, exploits, anecdotes
and downright tall tales attributed to him than any person could
reasonably accomplish in a single lifetime. Shann was seriously
coming to doubt whether such an individual had ever really existed,
but his ship was depicted on a large board outside the inn’s
entrance, as if testifying to the truth of the claims.

The inside of the Calandra was
big, much bigger than the Wayfarer in Corte. The spacious seating
area had an air of flamboyance and frippery that was in stark
contrast to the plainness and austerity of hostelries within the
Prophet’s area of influence. Ornate bronze lamps set in rich wood
panelling cast a warm glow over the eclectic mix of patrons.
Waitresses in blue cote-hardies sailed between tables like carracks
in full sail, balancing trays piled with plates of food and
steaming mugs of horge. The noise level was pleasantly
rowdy.

The party were bivouacked at a
corner table–Keris had insisted. The dark haired woman sat in her
traditional dark colours with her back to the wall, eyes flicking
from one individual to another. She looked as if she were picking
out targets. Shann was dressed in a light blue gown, drawn in at
the waist and swept to the floor. It was the prettiest, most
impractical and easily the most expensive garment she had ever worn
in her life. Alondo was seated next to Shann, his crimson suit and
hat now cleaned and pressed. He whispered in her ear every so
often, sending the girl into fits of giggles. Boxx was perched on a
stool next to Keris, sipping from a mug of horge. As it quaffed,
its mouth rippled in a way that Shann found hysterically
funny.

Lyall was on a
stool next to Alondo, cradling the mug before him, looking quite
contented. He had purchased a magnificent black and white outfit
for the occasion, trimmed with gold and silver brocade, which drew
admiring glances from staff and patrons alike. He could easily have
been taken for a highborn noble.
What is
your
background? Where do you come
from?
Even after so many days of living,
working and battling together, Shann realised that she still knew
next to nothing about Lyall’s origins. He seemed to have a talent
for avoiding the subject.

The table was becoming
increasingly messy, with spills of horge, discarded plates and
scattered scraps of food. A waitress with a delicate chin and fair
hair that cascaded about her shoulders appeared, deftly sweeping
away the leftovers and empty mugs and replacing them with fresh
mugs of the steaming brew. Shann whooped with delight and took a
decidedly unladylike swig. The waitress regarded Alondo
coquettishly before moving on to the next table.

Shann’s eyes
widened. She snickered into Alondo’s ear,
“I think she likes you.”

“You mean
Gianna?”
Alondo whispered.
“Never seen her before.”

Shann slapped him playfully on
the shoulder. Her eyes alighted on the table next to them. It was
empty, save for a cross shaped board with stone pieces mounted on
it. She clapped her hands. “Look, sassatan.”

“Shassatan,” Lyall corrected. “Do
you play, Keris?”

The older woman’s eyes narrowed.
“It is a required part of training at the keep; you know
that.”

“Perhaps you should ask someone
for a game?” Lyall suggested.

Keris huffed, “I seriously doubt
whether anyone in this establishment could give me a worthwhile
game.”

Shann was wriggling on her stool.
“Ooooh, let me play. I want to learn, pleeease?”

“We’re not having you play
Keris,” Lyall ruled. “There’d be blood on the board.”

“I’ll play.” All eyes turned to
Alondo.

“You?”
Keris had an expression as if she had just
detected a foul odour. “What do you know of
tactics?”

“Nothing, really, I
suppose.”

“Have you even played the game
before?” Keris sounded exasperated.

“Once or twice…I
think.”

Keris waved a dismissive hand.
“You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Winning isn’t
everything,”

Keris looked as if he had just
said something blasphemous. “Of course it is.”

Alondo shrugged. “If you say so.
Shall we play?”

There was a scraping of stools
against floorboards as they all stood up and transferred to the
shassatan table. Boxx hopped down from its perch and climbed onto a
stool next to Keris, leaning over the board as if it were studying
it. “You Move, They Move, You Win.”

“That’s the general idea,” Keris
concurred. They selected the placement of their pieces on the
board: red for Alondo, yellow for Keris. “Would you like a
handicap?” she offered.

“Oh…no, I don’t think
so.”

“Very well,” she motioned to
Alondo. “After you.”

“Why, thank you.” Alondo bowed
his head formally. His hand hovered over a red piece. “This is The
Fool,” he announced. He paused uncertainly. “Does The Fool move two
spaces or three?”

“Three,” Keris’ impatience was
starting to show through. “Do you need me to go over the
rules?”

“Er, no…no. I’m sure it will all
come back to me as we play.” He moved the piece the required number
of spaces, then twirled it between his fingers as if trying to make
up his mind. “Northern…er, no sorry, Eastern
orientation.”

Keris picked up a yellow piece,
holding it between thumb and forefinger. “The Door,” she declared,
looking at Alondo as if she were instructing a small child. She
moved it four spaces towards the centre of the board and turned it
so that it faced sideways. “West.”

Shann’s horge soaked brain was
confused. She turned to Lyall. “All the pieces look the
same.”

“That’s right. Shassatan involves
memory skills as well as tactical and positional training. You have
to remember your pieces’ designation, as well as those of your
opponent. Certain strategies can even alter a piece’s designation
during a game. Also you notice that at the end of each move, every
piece is given a ‘facing’, which raises its defence rating on that
side.”

Shann blinked. “It sounds really
complicated.”

Lyall laughed. “Oh, this is
nothing. Shassatan can be played by up to four players. Imagine
trying to keep that lot in your head. A full game is normally
played with twenty-one pieces a side, but the number of starting
pieces isn’t fixed. Beginners usually start with four of five
pieces a side and build up from there. You can also have unequal
starting numbers, where an experienced player will agree to start
with less pieces to even up the game. That’s called a
handicap.