Saul led them to an inn on the fourth tier of Mount Velar. The steep climb up a network of twisting stone stairs seemed to go on forever. Lagging behind the others, Lilia stopped to catch her breath. Her thigh muscles were burning, and she felt as if she would be sick. She wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her arm and turned to look back the way they had come.
Idriss tumbled down the hillside below them, a jigsaw of slate roofs. Beyond, the Bay of Idriss spread out, dark and still. Further out, the sea stretched west to a misty horizon.
Orin lay just out of sight.
Managing to regain her breath, Lilia turned and followed her companions up a narrow lane, before climbing a final set of stairs to the inn.
The Sailor’s Rest was a tidy establishment tucked into a back street. The three-storied building had been built into the side of the mountain, with walls of pitted basalt and peeling green shutters.
Inside, it was cool and smelled of damp. A low fire burned in the hearth, barely taking the chill off the air. Booths lined the shadowy space although Lilia noted there were no customers at this hour. She was not surprised—few folk would bother to make that climb up from the docks to take their noon meal and enjoy an ale here.
A man of middling years with a red face and harassed manner met them in the common room. He recognized Saul, although the look he gave him was wary. “Come to fleece my customers again, have you?” the inn keeper greeted him.
Saul grinned. “I won those games fair, Hrolf.”
The man snorted. “If you say so.”
He led them up to the chamber they would be sharing for the night; a large damp room with a view overlooking the bay. Saul passed him payment for the night, and the inn-keeper left without another word, the door thumping shut behind him.
Saul turned to his companions in silent assessment before he spoke. “We can’t waste time. I’ll return to the docks and offload that boat before finding horses.” He turned to Ryana. “You’re coming with me.”
Ryana bristled, her mouth thinning. “What? Afraid of leaving me with Lilia?”
He gave her a cool smile. “No—but I’d prefer you were with me.”
She frowned, her expression darkening, yet swallowed her next response. Saul glanced over at Lilia and Dain, taking in their disheveled appearances. All of them still wore the clothes they’d escaped Port Needle in.
“It will get cooler in the mountains,” Saul said, digging into a purse at his belt. “You’re going to need warmer clothes than that.” He passed Lilia a handful of silver talents. “At the southern end of The Tangle, you’ll find Merchants’ Alley—you should be able to get everything you need there. Watch yourselves though, it can get a bit rough—and The Brotherhood are likely to get here soon.”
Lilia nodded, sharing a glance with Dain. However, the thought of having to climb all those stairs again made her want to weep.
The four of them descended the last set of stairs down to The Tangle. Lilia and Dain paused a moment, watching Saul and Ryana set off west toward the docks. Once they had completed their business there, they would trek up to the northern outskirts of Idriss to find a horse trader.
After Saul and Ryana had disappeared from sight, Dain turned to Lilia. “It’s not too late, you know. We could leave now and be free of them both.”
Lilia sighed. “And go where? Face it, Dain—we need them.”
Dain gritted his teeth before answering. “The sooner we rid ourselves of Saul the better. He’s a snake.”
He saw anger flare in her eyes. “He’s the best chance we have of getting to the capital safely,” Lilia shot back. “Without horses, The Brotherhood will catch us.”
Not waiting for his response, she stalked off, taking a street that forked south, in the direction that Saul had indicated. Dain fell into step next to her, biting back his own anger. Her pig-headed defense of Saul infuriated him.
Why can’t she see?
Unspeaking, Lilia and Dain made their way through the labyrinth of dark, mossy streets, moving gradually south. The darkness in here was oppressive, and Dain noticed that Lilia slowed her step and moved closer to him, the further they travelled into the slums. Two harlots, their faces smeared with garish paint, their breasts bared, staggered out onto the street. Seeing Lilia shrink back from them, one of them hooted and made a lewd gesture.
Dain linked an arm through Lilia’s and led her on. He frowned when he noted her face had paled. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” she muttered. “I just find it difficult to breathe in here that’s all.”
Eventually they reached Merchants’ Alley—a long stretch flanked by high stone buildings that seemed to lean over the mossy cobbled way. The sky was barely more than a thin grey ribbon overhead.
Men, women and children packed the alley, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Saul had been right—there was everything for sale here. Tailors, cobblers, and milliners squeezed in next to food vendors and weaponsmiths. There was a tiny shop selling fowl—both live and butchered—a pie stand, and a spice trader. Women emerged from shops with bolts of cloth and baskets of food. Men, some of them armed, loitered around the entrance to a tavern halfway down the alley. Ragged urchins, barefoot, their faces streaked with grime, darted amongst the crowd, their gazes quick and hungry.
Dain ran his eye over the crowd, fascinated. There were sailors with darker complexions from Farras, and those bearing a similar look to Saul—olive skin and jet-black hair—from Anthor. Yet the folk of this kingdom, Rithmar, fascinated him too. Most of them were tall with either blond or brown hair. It seemed that Ryana’s looks were typical of this area of the mainland; many of the women were statuesque, tall enough to look men in the eye.
Among the crowd, he saw those of the Idriss Guard—men wearing the silver and black uniforms that marked them as protectors of the city. It surprised him to see so many of the guard on the streets, and he wondered why they had such a presence here.
Not wasting any time, Lilia and Dain ducked into the first tailor’s they found, where they bought clothing for Dain first: a thick woolen cloak, a leather vest, and two long-sleeved woolen tunics that would keep him warm during the journey. His selections took him no time at all, and Dain exited the shop with a bundle of new clothes under his arm.
Lilia was not so easy to please. They visited a number of shops before she bought a pair of long, hunting boots from a cobbler. Noting Dain’s look of surprise as she exited the cobbler’s, Lilia frowned.
“He’d made these for a lad who never came to collect them,” she explained, “and was selling them off cheap. They’ll suit me for riding.”
In the next tailor’s Dain waited impatiently while Lilia tried on a number of garments behind a curtain at the back of the narrow shop. Outside, the day was darkening. Spring had arrived, but dusk seemed to come early today.
Dain watched as a boy sprinted past the shop-front pursued by a man. Roaring curses, for the thief had lifted his purse, the portly and florid-faced man had little chance of catching the agile lad.
Moments later, Dain saw three of the Idriss Guard hurtle down the street in pursuit, their shouts ringing off the stone walls of the narrow alley.
Turning back to the curtain, Dain shifted his weight and tapped his foot. He turned his attention to the tailor—a small man with a darting, nervous gaze. “The city seems full of guards,” he said meeting the older man’s eye. “Is there trouble in Idriss?”
The tailor shook his head. “Not here,” he muttered. “But folks say there’s trouble brewing inland.”
Dain raised an eyebrow. “Go on …”
“Word is that Anthor has just declared war on Thûn.”
Dain frowned. This wasn’t the time to be taking a journey to the mainland. He wondered if Saul knew about his father’s plans to attack his northern neighbor. Either way, the news discomforted Dain. He glanced over at the changing area.
“We should be getting back, Lilia. Are you going to be much longer?”
“Almost ready,” she shouted back.
He watched as the curtain drew open and a young woman he barely recognized stepped out into the shop. Stunned by the transformation, Dain stared.
Her voluminous skirts had gone, replaced with form-fitting leather breeches and the long hunting boots she had bought earlier. Around her shoulders, she wore a blue-grey woolen cloak. Without her skirts she looked taller, her hips narrower. Her legs were long and shapely. Dain’s gaze slid up to the crisp, white shirt that skimmed the top of her thighs and the laced leather vest above that, fixing upon the creamy swell of her cleavage.
He hadn’t realized he was staring until her gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
He smiled. “Nothing.” Truthfully, he’d known few women—besides Ryana—who dressed this way. The women of Orin wore long, heavy skirts.
Lilia’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Don’t the clothes suit me?”
Dain’s smile widened. “No need to worry about that—you look beautiful.”
Lilia glanced away, her cheeks glowing pink. Her gaze flicked to the tailor, who was waiting expectantly a few feet away, and she gave him a shy smile. “I’ll take these.”
Outside in the street, the air had turned chill and the shadows had lengthened even further. Dain drew his new cloak closer to him. He carried the rest of his clothes in a bundle under his arm, whereas Lilia wore her purchases, having given her layers of skirts and petticoats to the tailor in part payment for her new clothing.
They had just passed a small smith’s workshop when Dain caught Lilia by the arm and pulled her up short. The clang of metal reverberated out into the street. “How much coin have you left?” he asked.
Lilia dug into the pocket of her leather vest. “One silver talent—why? Haven’t we got everything?”
“Almost.” He steered her into the smithy’s. Inside, a hulking man beat a glowing blade upon an anvil. Upon seeing them, he straightened up and wiped his glowing face with the back of one meaty forearm. “Afternoon.”
“Good day,” Dain replied with a smile. “We’re looking to buy a knife.”
“What kind? Fighting dagger? Filleting blade?”
“Something small and light.”
The smithy nodded, put down his hammer and crossed to a workbench at the far end of the forge. He returned carrying a bone-handled dagger with a gleaming, wickedly-sharp blade.
“It’s made of Thûn steel.” The smith handed it to Dain. “Light and not easily blunted. I make these for sailors as the blades don’t rust. I always have a couple in stock.”
Dain nodded, weighing the blade in his hand. It was well-crafted and light. “How much?”
“Two silver talents.”
Dain puffed his cheeks out and handed the blade back to the smithy. “Make it one and we’ll take it.”
The smithy gave him a long look, weighing his options, before finally nodding. “Alright then.”
They paid and the smith handed Dain his purchase. However, Dain then passed Lilia the dagger.
Her gaze widened. “What? I thought this was for you?”
“That axe I brought will do me for the moment,” he replied. “You need something to defend yourself with.”
She looked down at the knife as if it would bite her. “But I don’t know how to use one.”
The smith gave a wheezing laugh. “That’s easily remedied, girl.” He winked at her. “I can give you a lesson.”
Dain gave the smith an irritated look before turning his attention back to Lilia. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you. Go ahead, Lily. Pretend I’m about to attack you and you’re defending yourself. How would you use the blade?”
Lilia gave him a pained look before closing her fingers around the dagger’s bone handle. Hesitantly, she lifted her arm and stretched it before her, waving the blade at him.
Across the forge, the smith chortled. Lilia’s face flushed, but Dain said nothing. Instead, he stepped forward and easily caught her wrist.
“When you hold a knife like that, you make it easy for me to grab your arm,” he explained. “You have no reach with a dagger.” He kept his fingers fastened around her wrist and pushed her hand down so it was level with his belly, before pushing her arm back against her torso. “Keep the blade low and close to your body. If someone attacks you, let them get close before you stab upward.”
Dain moved forward, guiding her hand so that the tip of the blade touched just below his rib cage. They stood close now, so close he could smell the warm sweetness of her skin and the faint perfume of rosemary and sea-salt from her hair. She was around a hand-span shorter than him and so had to raise her chin only slightly to meet his gaze. Her eyes were the color of Farras mahogany, her full lips slightly parted. His breathing quickened. If she hadn’t had a dagger pointed at his guts, he could have leaned down and kissed her.
She’d probably stab me, he told himself as he released her wrist, although Saul would probably get away with it.
The thought sobered him. “Does that help?” he asked, his voice curter than he’d intended.
Lilia watched him a moment longer before giving a hesitant nod. “Aye, thank you Dain.” With that she bent down and slid the blade under her belt.
Out in Merchants’ Alley once more, Dain cast a look around the milling crowd. He didn’t like the way a few of the passersby looked at him and Lilia. Folk were showing too much interest in them. He remembered Saul’s warning about The Brotherhood and decided they’d lingered here long enough. The thought of Lilia kissing Saul had soured his mood.
“We’d better get back. It’ll be getting dark soon.”
Lilia climbed up the steps toward the fourth tier of Idriss. It was definitely easier scaling these steps without being hampered by long skirts. Dain climbed at her side, his face flushed with exertion.
“Thank the shadows we’re leaving tomorrow,” she gasped. “These stairs will be the end of me.”
Dain glanced at her before smiling. “You’d get used to them after a while.”
Lilia shook her head, adamant. “No, I wouldn’t.”
They reached the fourth tier and stopped to regain their breath. Bent double, Lilia took in large gulps of air and waited for the thundering of her heart to settle. Eventually, she straightened up, enjoying the cool breeze on her heated face, and leaned against the rough stone wall that ran along the edge of the tier. She looked down, her gaze sweeping across the jumble of dark roofs to the Bay of Idriss. The light had almost faded, the last glow of the sun—still hidden behind a mantle of cloud—sliding towards the edge of the sea.
Then, she spied a familiar but unwelcome sight. The dark bulk of a galleon rode the incoming tide just beyond the docks.