thinking. But he's well thought-of in these parts in spite of it.'
The other boatmen guffawed. Tarn and Andradh were ancient foes, even though their people shared the same Wave-Harrier blood. An Andradhian invasion of Tarn nearly two decades ago, beaten back only with the help of Ironcrown's navy, had finally forced the proud Sealords to join the Sovereignty.
'Is Haydon's home far from here?' Induna asked.
'Not even an hour away But it's late and he's a prickly sort, not to be approached after dark except for good reason. Does he know you?'
'Yes, from many years ago.'
'Then let's be off. My name's Momor and here's my punt. The trip will cost four silver pennies of Tarn, if you've none of our coin.'
The price was exorbitant but she had no choice. He helped her to board and settle herself, then stood on a stern platform and poled the slender craft along the canal and into the heart of the city. The clipper's crew had informed her that this region of southern Andradh was a low-lying collection of inhabited islands, most of them joined by humpback bridges, heavily populated along the shores and blessed with lush soil that supported rice farms and plantations of tropical fruits. These commodities, much valued in Tarn and elsewhere on High Blenholme, had formed the outward-bound clipper's cargo. On the voyage home it had been loaded with casks of dried salmon, salt cod, whale oil, opals, and gold. Induna had been the only paying passenger traveling the more than two thousand leagues from Mesta in Tarn's Shelter Bay to Mikk-Rozodh.
Once Momor's punt left the harbor area, with its tall-masted ships, sturdy warehouses, and bustling taverns and brothels, the buildings along the canal changed in character. At first the dwellings were grand, constructed of fine timber and imported stone, with balustered steps leading down to well-lighted landing stages. She saw only a handful of people moving about on the shore. A number of other punts and the occasional private barge or paddle-scow moved up and down thewaterways, but most of the citizens seemed to have already retired to their homes.
Further along, the canal narrowed and began to wind sharply. Momor turned into a side-channel where the houses became meaner and more closely crowded, although still neat enough. They were made of pole and thatch, set on stilts in the mud, and often connected to one another byboard walkways. Tiny watercraft were tied to laddered pilings below them. A multitude of feebly glowing lamps shone from unglazed windows, screened from flying insects by cloth or bead curtains. She saw people moving about within the houses, heard laughter, crying babes, music, and the night-cries of frogs and birds. The odors of exotic cooking and human waste vied with the rich perfume of the flowers that filled ornamental containers on almost every rickety balcony.
Induna unfastened her heavy cloak and folded it on the thwart beside her. Beneath it she wore a simple russet-colored linen gown.
Momor said‘That's right, mistress. You won't need a wool mantle here in Mikk-Town. Our weather's a far cry from that in Tarn. Nice and warm year-round. Overwarm during the rainy season, if you want the truth. You planning to stay long?'
‘Idon't know,' she said wearily. The message was all that really mattered.
During the voyage, she had tried to visualize her reunion with Deveron countless times, but without success. In truth, she didn't know his heart, his true self, well enough to speculate. Their time together before he was forced to flee had been too brief. Even after they were engaged to marry he had not opened his mind to her as windtalented lovers were wont to do. He was unfailingly gentle and considerate, but always on guard. They had kissed and caressed and laughed together but had never joined their bodies. It was not the custom in Tarn to swive before wedlock - although one honored more in the breach than the keeping by many young couples. But Deveron had respected
The other boatmen guffawed. Tarn and Andradh were ancient foes, even though their people shared the same Wave-Harrier blood. An Andradhian invasion of Tarn nearly two decades ago, beaten back only with the help of Ironcrown's navy, had finally forced the proud Sealords to join the Sovereignty.
'Is Haydon's home far from here?' Induna asked.
'Not even an hour away But it's late and he's a prickly sort, not to be approached after dark except for good reason. Does he know you?'
'Yes, from many years ago.'
'Then let's be off. My name's Momor and here's my punt. The trip will cost four silver pennies of Tarn, if you've none of our coin.'
The price was exorbitant but she had no choice. He helped her to board and settle herself, then stood on a stern platform and poled the slender craft along the canal and into the heart of the city. The clipper's crew had informed her that this region of southern Andradh was a low-lying collection of inhabited islands, most of them joined by humpback bridges, heavily populated along the shores and blessed with lush soil that supported rice farms and plantations of tropical fruits. These commodities, much valued in Tarn and elsewhere on High Blenholme, had formed the outward-bound clipper's cargo. On the voyage home it had been loaded with casks of dried salmon, salt cod, whale oil, opals, and gold. Induna had been the only paying passenger traveling the more than two thousand leagues from Mesta in Tarn's Shelter Bay to Mikk-Rozodh.
Once Momor's punt left the harbor area, with its tall-masted ships, sturdy warehouses, and bustling taverns and brothels, the buildings along the canal changed in character. At first the dwellings were grand, constructed of fine timber and imported stone, with balustered steps leading down to well-lighted landing stages. She saw only a handful of people moving about on the shore. A number of other punts and the occasional private barge or paddle-scow moved up and down thewaterways, but most of the citizens seemed to have already retired to their homes.
Further along, the canal narrowed and began to wind sharply. Momor turned into a side-channel where the houses became meaner and more closely crowded, although still neat enough. They were made of pole and thatch, set on stilts in the mud, and often connected to one another byboard walkways. Tiny watercraft were tied to laddered pilings below them. A multitude of feebly glowing lamps shone from unglazed windows, screened from flying insects by cloth or bead curtains. She saw people moving about within the houses, heard laughter, crying babes, music, and the night-cries of frogs and birds. The odors of exotic cooking and human waste vied with the rich perfume of the flowers that filled ornamental containers on almost every rickety balcony.
Induna unfastened her heavy cloak and folded it on the thwart beside her. Beneath it she wore a simple russet-colored linen gown.
Momor said‘That's right, mistress. You won't need a wool mantle here in Mikk-Town. Our weather's a far cry from that in Tarn. Nice and warm year-round. Overwarm during the rainy season, if you want the truth. You planning to stay long?'
‘Idon't know,' she said wearily. The message was all that really mattered.
During the voyage, she had tried to visualize her reunion with Deveron countless times, but without success. In truth, she didn't know his heart, his true self, well enough to speculate. Their time together before he was forced to flee had been too brief. Even after they were engaged to marry he had not opened his mind to her as windtalented lovers were wont to do. He was unfailingly gentle and considerate, but always on guard. They had kissed and caressed and laughed together but had never joined their bodies. It was not the custom in Tarn to swive before wedlock - although one honored more in the breach than the keeping by many young couples. But Deveron had respected
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