'But what about the children?'
'They've got Jander, Brom, and the guards to protect them. They should be safe for the time being, and in the long run, we'll ward them best by eliminating this threat as expeditiously as possible.'
She threw up her hands. 'Very well. Well hunt together.'
'Then if you're able, we should get moving. Our foes left our capes lying back in the glade, but they stole our horses, and it's a long walk back to town.'
Chapter 12
At the point where the city wall ended and the docks began, Shamur and Thamalon stood and regarded the expanse of water where the River Arkhen, or the Elzimmer, as the townsfolk generally called it, flowed into Selgaunt Bay. It was evening, with a frigid wind moaning in from the sea, and so, as it did every night, the 'floating city' of the watermen had come back into existence. By day, countless boats ferried passengers and cargo about the harbor and along the river, or ventured out to sea in search of fish. At dusk, those who lived and worked aboard these vessels brought them together to form a great tangle that sometimes extended all the way to the north shore. It then became possible to step, climb, or jump from one deck to the next.
Shamur and Thamalon hadn't needed to hike all the way back into Selgaunt. Shortly after reaching Rauthauvyr's Road, they'd encountered a wagon full of travelers willing to give them a ride, and more than willing to trade them plain homespun garments for their own rich nobles' attire, which, though torn, blood-spattered, and filthy, could nonetheless be sold to a second-hand clothing dealer for a handsome price.
Thus rendered inconspicuous, Shamur enjoyed the comfort and freedom of a mannish outfit of blacks and grays the likes of which she hadn't worn in thirty years. The couple parted company with their benefactors in Overwater. In that wayfarers' haven, they sold Tha-malon's gold and silver spurs to augment their store of ready cash, procured a healing salve for their sundry cuts and scrapes along with a bottle of black dye, and then went to a bathhouse. After they scrubbed the grime off, Shamur chopped her long tresses short, and both she and Thamalon colored their hair. Now thoroughly disguised, or so they hoped, they headed for a marketplace to equip themselves for the task ahead. Thamalon bought a new throwing knife and a gray steel buckler. Shamur purchased another broadsword, a dagger, and, once the shifty little merchant operating in the shabbiest corner of the market had been persuaded to trust her, a leather wallet lined with thief s tools.
Still later, back on the south side of the river, the aristocrats' first stop had been a futile one at Lampblack Alley, where they'd found Audra Sweetdreams and her two ruffians lying slain on the floor of her shop.
It had all taken more time than Shamur would have preferred, and she'd been impatient to reach the docks and begin the search for the tattooed bully. Still, the floating city exerted a kind of fascination. Colored lanterns shone aboard scores of sloops, skiffs, barges, and houseboats as if in imitation of the stars appearing overhead. Mouthwatering cooking odors wafted ashore from the boats, as did laughter and a lively tune performed on songhorn and hand drum. Despite herself, the noblewoman paused to take in the spectacle.
Thamalon said, 'It is a bit of a marvel, isn't it?'
Surprised to hear her own thought echoed, Shamur turned to regard him, and saw that he'd finally left off glowering at her. He wore a simple, unadorned brown cloak, jerkin, trews, and low boots. It occurred to her that with his hair dark as his eyebrows, he must look rather as he had in those grim days before she ever met him, when the House of Uskevren was deemed ruined for all time in everyone's reckoning but his own.
'Yes,' she replied. 'I've always liked looking at it, and regretted that living where we do, as we do, I don't often see it anymore.'
His mouth tightened. 'Of course, you think I'm to blame for that, and for depriving you of all your other pleasures.'
'No!' she said. Sweet Sune, it had been like this for a long, wearisome time now, a sad consequence of their estrangement. Even when one of them intended no derogation or reproach, the other was touchy and quick to take offense. 'That isn't what I meant.'
'If you say so. Come on.' They walked out on the northernmost dock, and, the planks creaking beneath their feet and the smell of saltwater in their nostrils, approached the first of the boats tied up there. It was a barca with slanted eyes painted on each of its interchangeable ends and a square little cabin, where the skipper no doubt slept in foul weather, set in the center of the deck.
'Ahoy,' called Thamalon, indicating that he wished to speak to someone onboard. He would have shouted 'walking' had he merely wished to move across the barca on his way to some other craft, and then, their notions of courtesy satisfied, none of the watermen would have paid him or Shamur any mind, or at least, not if the nobles could pass for watermen themselves.
But they couldn't, for the society of the waves and currents was an insular one with its own patois, mores, and traditions, interdependent with the world ashore, yet separate in many respects. People claimed that some watermen lived and died without ever setting foot on solid ground, and although Shamur suspected that was an exaggeration, she was certain no landsman could prowl the floating city without attracting many a speculative eye.
A husky woman wrapped in an oilcloth mantle emerged from the barea's cabin. 'Good evening,' said Thamalon.
'Evening,' she replied. 'What do you want?'
'We're looking for someone,' Shamur said. 'We don't know his name, but he's thin, has a black beard, and is about as tall as my friend here. Wears a gold ring in his lower lip, has fish scales tattooed on his hands and throat, and carries a brace of short swords. Do you know him?'
The bargewoman's eyes narrowed. 'What do you want him for?'
'There was a boating accident,' Thamalon said. It was the story he and Shamur had agreed upon. 'My master's daughter would have drowned if this fellow hadn't happened to be passing by on another vessel and fished her out of the drink. Lord Baerent wants to reward him, and if you help us find him, there are a few fivestars in it for you as well.'
The bargewoman shook her head. 'I don't know the man.'
'Well, thank you anyway,' Thamalon sighed. 'We'll walk on through, then.'
The nobles asked their questions on all the vessels tied up at the dock, then moved on to those farther offshore. As they made their way through the floating city, Thamalon was affable when addressing the watermen and taciturn otherwise.
Shamur hadn't much minded his sullenness all afternoon, but now, perhaps because he'd finally relaxed for just a moment, it grated on her. At last, as they walked from the bow to the stern of an old trawler, with nets and setlines hanging on every side, she said, 'I truly don't blame you for separating me from the things I loved. I realize it was my choice to don the mask I wore.'
'Yes, it was,' he answered, 'but I believe you blame me nonetheless. Why else would you grow so cold?'
'You had your doxies to console you,' she said, then winced at the venom in her voice. 'I'm sorry. I didn't begin this conversation to find an excuse for a quarrel. Perhaps, unjust as it was, I did resent you to some extent, simply because I was so unhappy.'
'Unhappy in your life of luxury and privilege.' 'It wasn't what I wanted!'
'Apparently not.' They reached the rear of the vessel, and he called down to the sleek, narrow passenger skiff moored underneath, to the family of rowers taking their ease on the seats. 'Ahoy!'
The nobles inquired about for another hour, still meeting with no success. Shamur became increasingly convinced that they must already have spoken to someone who knew their quarry, but that suspicious individual had been loath to give up a fellow waterman to a pair of outsiders.
Eventually, as they crossed the deck of a barge that had yet to unload its cargo of bins of iron ore, Thamalon said, 'I could wish that you'd played your role with greater skill.'
Shamur eyed him quizzically. 'I did my best.' 'And I must admit, you hoodwinked everyone, but still, when I think about it now, your impersonation was less than impeccable. At first, you did seem like the sweet, gladsome girl I loved. You had to until after the wedding, I suppose. But soon enough, you petrified into the stiff, imperious
