Chapter 15: Exotic

Aquila came into view against a backdrop of cobalt and emerald where sea met land, he circled the ship a few times and emitted a high-pitched squawk, before landing at his preferred spot on the topmost spar. Morgan lowered her eyes taking in the broadening scene before her, the welcoming view of Astrom, stealing breath, and as always leaving her in wonderment. Morgan rarely sailed as far as Sirillia; not that it mattered because every time felt like the first. She pondered often on what exactly drew one to such an exotic part of the realm, was it the stark beauty, the carefree lifestyle that people took for granted or was it a view that was simply unobtainable anywhere else. Astrom was full of lush green terraces that ascended from the sea upwards to the deserts edge, the lower levels taken up by a business district of sorts. The bazaar itself was so large it was broken into sections according to wares. The traders who were rich enough had their dwellings at the same level. The next tiers up were filled with homes that held small plots, and as you ascended, the plots increased in size. The overall effect was a life surrounded by hanging gardens and pastures, the rich overlooking the poor, the poor living near the sea that sustained them. Sirillia was a land rich in the exotic, from spices to fine silks and even rare metals or minerals that were simply not found on Tornbaer. It was wild and untamed, and you could take your life into your hands for the promise of the riches that could be gained, the introduction of Kingdom rule and Garrisons helping to quell the danger somewhat. Astrom’s Garrison overlooked the city from the north, a stone eyesore, stark in contrast to the straw and clay houses that were common in this part of the realm. The four Kingdom Sentinel class ships docked in the harbour were slightly larger than hers; although experience told her that they were much slower. Morgan ordered the crew to trim in the normal fashion; the ships normal deceleration method would only draw attention in their current setting. She could smell the distinct odour of fish guts and the salty tang of drying marine creatures as the gangplank hit the dock, the harbour teaming with those whose livelihoods depended on the sea’s bounty. Astrom was important to trade because it contained one of the three ports on a continent that was otherwise mainly desert. Because sailors love to explore strange and exciting new places a line of expectant faces greeted her upon the main deck, “Aiden, Sha, Meena, that’s all for now.  We can proceed with shore leave once we get the lay of the land.” The shoulders of the unsuccessful dropped, still they went about their work. Morgan stepped towards the gangplank, Marlo was still hovering, he had one of his I’ve-got-an-idea smiles plastered upon his face, “How long?” She asked dryly.

“Just a few hours, Captain, I just need to acquire some parts for an invention,” He affirmed, unsurprised by her intuition.

“Fine but take Meena with you, and let Bella know that she is in charge,” She added as an afterthought, “Get me a read on this place, will you.”

“Aye, Captain,” Marlo replied, barely containing his glee, sometimes he reminded her of a child excited about the prospect of discovering something for the first time. Marlo loved his work with a passion, so much so that on more than one occasion she had sent him to his cabin when he was forgetting the necessity that was sleep.

Aiden and Sha had not stopped conversing since they had walked down the plank, both extroverts, Morgan was happy to note, however, that they were taking in their surroundings. She led them to her favourite horse vendor, where they got busy tacking up. Aiden who had left his manservant behind was reduced to doing the menial task himself. Morgan was inspecting her horse’s hoofs, when something edged upon her senses, the feeling sending her gaze outwards. Her eyes stopped on the sight of the bazaar in the distance, even this far away the sounds of street children selling wares, vendors bartering, and fishwife’s nattering should be reaching out to her. Today the noises were noticeably muted, it wasn’t just the lack of sound or the absence of friendly faces, everything felt wrong and the wrong was getting worse the longer that she stood there, “Okay lads, we need to get to the garrison, something doesn’t feel right,” she affirmed, her words sending Sha’s hand to his hilt, Aiden stiffened, his eyes darting. Morgan mounted then kicked, the action sending her towards the nearest thoroughfare at a gallop.

It wasn’t long before her party raced up to the Garrisons gate, the letter from Leo providing swift access into the main courtyard where a stable hand came forward to take their horses. They weren’t waiting long before a lieutenant materialised to escort them straight to the Garrison Commander.

The Commander was a robust man with a domineering façade who saluted Sha with impressively muscly arms, the act sending veins popping, “Commander Orton, at your service, Milady.” The refreshingly direct words were coupled with a sweep of a hand, the offer of a seat she ignored, “I received word of your coming; how can I be of assistance?”

Morgan was also more than happy to skip niceties, “We are on a mission for the crown, I need you to supply any information that you have on the Black Cloaks.”

If the leader of the Garrison was surprised by her statement, he didn’t show it. The room went quiet for a moment as Morgan measured the man before her, the back of her neck tickled by hairs that were rising in warning. Morgan sent her senses outward heeding the internal alarm, the only oddity was Aiden’s sudden absence; he must have had some spying to do.

The commander spoke once again delivering passionate words in an entirely indifferent manner, “The Black Cloaks are the bane of my existence, I would like to kill every one of them. Lately, they have been attacking in broad daylight, without any clear reason. I have men searching for information as we speak.” If she placed his odd conduct aside, the commander’s words made sense, they also explained the townsfolks strange behaviour.

“Please see that any information as to the Black Cloaks whereabouts finds its way to me, swiftly?” Morgan affirmed, she stepped backwards, readying herself for departure.

The Commanders smile skipped his eyes entirely, his calm response chilling her further, “Of course, please feel free to stay for dinner, I would enjoy news of home if you can spare some.” Morgan smiled sweetly as swearwords fired through her brain, there was no good excuse, she had to accept the kind offer.

The afternoon wore on thereafter, despite her desire to leave she was treated to un-garrison fare and feigned politeness, she assumed the reason for such was Sha’s presence.

 

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The foremost cause of Meena’s current bout of crankiness was the fact that her preferred task would have been to go with Morgan, instead she was traipsing around the bazaar with Marlo who insisted upon looking at absolutely everything. Worse still, everything included wax for food storage, pillows with scents that enabled you to sleep soundly, and even exotic flowers, it was all so very boring. Meena was readying herself to give Marlo a piece of her mind when he finally found the vendor that he had been looking for. Marlo stopped abruptly at a stall and placed his palms together in greeting, he then addressed a slim bearded merchant with dark hair and eyes that were to close together, such eyes were Meena’s measure for shadiness, “Well met Arew, I’m looking for some of your special dried fish. I put my order in last week,” Marlo announced, the words delivered in a tone that was much too high for such a mundane sentence. Meena rolled her eyes, she had to stop herself from scoffing at the stupidity that was the code these two were talking, the merchant in question was the furthest away from the entrance to the port where all the fish vendors were located, and his wares looked to include fine metals and powders, not fish.

The man known as Arew placed his palms together, his demeanour greasy, “Of course, your order is this way, please follow me.” The merchant proceeded to walk towards a passage that led into a suspiciously dark alley.

Meena took the rear; it was prudent to stay alert as she didn’t know what sort of shady dealings Marlo was undertaking. They were led down some dodgy back streets to a warehouse where Marlo proceeded to inspect some barrels, the crimson logo on the barrels was of a strange spikey wing that was spreading out as if it was about to take flight. Marlo checked that the wax seal on each barrel was airtight before handing over what looked like an excessive amount of coin. After the half giant had organised for the barrels to be delivered to the Tempest they headed out.

Meena noticed someone following them in a manner they probably thought was inconspicuous. The person insisted upon their horrible excuse for tailing as they progressed toward their destination. When she found the right place to lay out an ambush, she used her hands to indicate that they go around a corner and wait for the right moment to acquaint a hilt with the footpad’s face. Her day was certainly looking up when her hilt did in fact welcome the footpad, the effect a pleasing crumple towards the ground. Meena perused the unconscious newcomer noting their standard desert garb, including a scarf that covered the mouth but not the eyes, which luckily for them were closed and clear of tattoos. Marlo checked for weapons the search producing a few ornate daggers. It was as they were discussing their next move that the unconscious became conscious. Meena placed the blade of her sword against the throat of the absurdly long-lashed newcomer, “Try me,” she warned, in a lowly growl.

To Meena’s surprise, the newcomer aimed a defiant stare in her direction and placed hands upon hips, the act revealing the silhouette of a woman. The woman stood up unflinching as the blade stayed at her throat, she then used a hand to undo the scarf on one side, revealing a beautiful face, “Is this how you treat all strangers?” She asked, the commanding tone in a twang that Meena couldn’t place.

Marlo started to stammer, “I, I, I apologise. We thought you were following us.”

The strangers laugh, sounded like tiny bells and Meena was sure that flirting was being deployed in the woman’s response, “I was following you. My name is princess Lashima of the Reshda tribe.” Marlo put his hand on Meena’s arm, forcing her to lower the blade. As if they had invited her to speak the woman known as Lashima continued, “We have much to talk about, but this is not at all a safe place, please know that you are in great danger. I must go if I don’t get back, my guards will come looking for me.” Marlo handed over the appropriated daggers, Meena lamenting their loss. Lashima had the audacity to wink at them before moving away, nose skyward, one hand out, the other on swaying hip, as if she owned the street. After a few steps, she called back, “I will find you tomorrow, and we can share information,” then she was gone.

“Really, I mean really, Marlo!” Meena growled, sheathing her sword forcefully.

Marlo shrugged, “You didn’t find that positively intriguing. It’s amazing sometimes it feels like I am a magnet for beautiful woman.” There was a goofy grin firmly plastered upon his face.

Meena sighed, she turned and started back at an easy lope, all the while wondering, which women Marlo was referring to, and what a magnet was, but of course refusing to ask. More important things occupied her thoughts, after all in Sirillia it wasn’t just the desert roses that could kill you.

 

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Meena sat in Morgan’s office tapping her foot impatiently, when that didn’t help, she started to pace back and forward, still no luck. Fear and anxiety were building up inside of her and ‘what if’ was a constant factor, “She will be okay, she had much further to go than us remember,” Marlo soothed, her rude retort waylaid when she heard Morgan’s commanding voice. Apparently, her friend had stopped to hear Bella’s report on the goings on while she was away. Sighing with relief Meena relaxed into a chair.

When everyone, including to Meena’s disdain Aiden, had made it into the cabin they made their reports. There wasn’t a lot of good news, it could all be summed up by saying that they were in danger, no one knew why, oh and, the Black Cloaks had the upper hand.

Frustrated by the general lack of solid information, Meena stood and proceeded to pace. Morgan spoke pragmatic words allowing fear to dissipate, “A Black Cloak has to eat, so tomorrow we go through the market, offering money to any with information, plus we talk to the desert princess—oh and we double the guards and float in the harbour, sound good?” She found herself nodding along with the rest of the room’s occupants.
Meena left Morgan’s cabin feeling lighter, she even decided to work on a particularly tricky move that she had remembered in a recent dream, working until there was sweat glistening on her forehead, which wasn’t hard in the scorched climate. Meena was instantly annoyed by the voice that spoke behind her, “Although I have never seen one let alone two, I think your swords are called liuyedao.”

Meena rounded on Aiden, planting herself squarely in front. Momentarily drawn in by the grey flecks in his Hazel eyes, she realised that it was possible that some of the sting had gone out of how she felt about his intrusions. After an internal scolding she smiled a well-practised slant; acutely aware it made her look unhinged. Her words deadly calm, “If you hurt anyone on this ship, I will personally see to it, you are flayed and attached to a bolting horse, as we wouldn’t want any entrails to stay inside, would we?” As she spoke the last words, she deepened her smile, so it was bordering on maniacal. A noticeable shiver escaped Aiden; it brought her delight. Meena walked away, a slight skip in her step, suddenly things were looking up.