Tal felt his eyes bulge from the sudden, crushing pressure. He shifted his weight to pull the man forward, but Baldy had his feet firmly planted and kept his hold.
Scarface staggered forward, still winded but recovered enough to slam his fist into Tal's sternum. He raised his fist for another blow, then fell over backward to reveal Chaney standing behind him, a heavy wooden spoke clutched in both hands.
Tal shoved Baldy backward, forcing him against the fishmonger's wall. The bruiser kept his hold, but then Tal jerked his head backward. The man's head cracked against the wall once, twice, and finally a third time before he sank to the street.
Tal staggered away, rubbing his throat and gasping. He looked for Potbelly, but the pale little man had made his escape. Near the street, Chaney peered back toward the city before turning back to Tal.
'We had better get out of here before the Scepters show up,' he said.
He tossed his improvised club aside and threw Tal his pack. They emerged from the alley and headed north. Only a few questioning glances from the nearest merchants followed them.
'Listen, Ghane,' said Tal. 'I'm sorry-'
'Couldn't be helped,' said Chaney. 'After all, I can't expect my bodyguard to stand aside while some creep roughs me up, can I?'
Tal made a weak smile. Chaney had called him his bodyguard since Tal first defended him against bullies some ten years before, when they were boys.
'Of course, I can hardly stroll back through town unattended now,' said Chaney. 'You got enough money for another horse?'
Four days later, Tal and Chaney rode past the high walls of Castle Narnbra and descended into the port of Yhaunn. The midday sun shone through a light shower of rain, but it was still clear enough for a grand view of the city. It was set within a vast rock quarry whose gray cliff walls rose up to the encircling walls.
From the vantage of the castle entrance, Tal could see some of the city's most famous buildings, including the graceful spires of Glassgrafter's Hall and the four domes of Ordulin's Manshion, a huge and famous rooming house. Not far from Orgulin's was a tall, round tower that could only be Moonshadow Hall. Its soaring walls were adorned with bas-reliefs of graceful winged devas and other celestial beings. They were miniscule at this distance, but Tal thought he recognized the shapes of owls in place of gargoyles above the seven gates to the temple. The building reminded Tal of an overgrown playhouse, with its multiple entrances and a central courtyard open to the sky.
Elsewhere, the city seemed impossibly crowded by small houses. Some of them were so narrow that two could fit into Tal's Selgaunt tallhouse, which he considered rather cozy. The buildings were especially dense near the harbor, where the stiltways rose four stories above the street. The bustling market district was a dizzying conglomeration of shops and alehouses linked by rope bridges, ladders, swings, ramps, and even more improbable connections above street level. The waterfront was open to Yhauntan Bay, a gray expanse filled with trading cogs and barges.
After they secured lodging at Orgulin's, Tal immediately ordered hot baths and refreshments brought to their room. While waiting for the tubs, Tal composed a brief note of introduction and paid one of the inn's boys to deliver it to Moonshadow Hall.
Within an hour, two pairs of house boys arrived and set a couple of deep wooden bathtubs before the fireplace. With precise economy, they filled the tubs with hot water from the cauldron above the fire. As the boys worked, a maid set out a warm jug of brandy with two small cups, as well as dishes of candied fruit, spiced lamb, seeded bread, and pickled onions. Then she arrayed the clean clothes neatly while Tal and Chaney stripped off their travel-sodden garments and handed them over for laundering. The servants left with the dirty laundry and a coin for each of them.
Tal and Chaney stepped into the hot water with hisses, then sank down to their chins with sighs of contentment. For a long time, they let the heat dissolve the knotted muscles and cold aches of the journey while they sipped warm liquor and nibbled from the tray between them in contented silence. Only after Chaney had refilled their cups for the second time did Tal broach the subject that had been troubling his mind since they left Selgaunt.
'Who were those men on the bridge?' he asked. He was surprised that Chaney hesitated before answering, since he'd had the past three days to formulate an excuse for his latest predicament.
Chaney slowly slipped under the surface of the water. He remained submerged so long that a faint, irrational anxiety plucked at Tal's imagination. Before he became concerned enough to grab his friend by the hair and pull him out, Chaney raised his head out of the water. Rather than answer the question, he grabbed a bar of soap and began lathering his hair.
Vexation paced along the back of Tal's mind, but he did not repeat himself. Instead he followed Chaney's example and scrubbed himself clean with a lavender-scented bar before leaning back to soak up the heat again. The warmth gradually reached his bones as he tried to empty his mind as Master Ferrick had taught. The meditation was much easier while sitting in a hot bath, he soon discovered. He had almost pushed away the question of Chaney's trouble when a house boy returned with his reply.
Tal gave him a penny and broke the wax seal to read the note.
'That was quick,' said Chaney. 'Will she see you?'
'It doesn't say,' said Tal. 'But I have an audience tonight with someone, if I want it.'
'You probably have to impress some functionary first.'
'Probably,' said Tal.
'Want me to go with you?'
'No,' said Tal.
He folded the vellum sheet and exchanged it for his glass on the small table between the bathtubs. Both he and Chaney sipped their drinks and settled back into the silence that had fallen over them since the fight at the High Bridge. Tal wanted to know more about Chaney's problem, and he felt it was only fair to tell him since he had confided everything in his friend. Still, while he felt compelled to intervene when it came to blows, he would not stoop to nagging Chaney.
While he waited for Chaney to share his secret, however, Tal would drag his friend no further into his own private affairs. Maybe it was petty, he realized, but maybe it was prudent. If Chaney were mixed up with hard criminals, not just a few cheated gamblers or a gentleman's loan gone sour, then Tal had to consider how to limit his own involvement. Despite his relative independence from Thamalon and the rest of his family, he knew better than to invite real trouble back to Stormweather.
He only hoped Chaney was not in real trouble, and he wouldn't know until Chaney confided in him.
Tal was surprised to find that Dhauna Myritar was a short, plump woman of perhaps sixty or as many as eighty years. She had brown skin and eyes of no particular color, with laugh lines that reminded Tal of Mistress Quickly and perhaps also Maleva.
The high priestess wore her fine blue and silver gown as comfortably as a fishwife would an old shawl. It was all bustles and lace with a fantastical collar that rose high above the top of her head. In her coifed hair she wore a silver tiara of six crescent moons surrounding one perfect disk in the center. It should have looked ridiculous on her, but somehow it did not.
'May Selune guide your steps in the night and bring them to the new dawn,' she greeted him. She had an air of comfortable formality, as though she'd said the words a hundred thousand times but still meant them honestly.
She handed the bright ceremonial scepter to one of the three young novices attending her before dismissing them from the room. It was a small, comfortable antechamber, thickly carpeted and appointed with furnishings that looked more appropriate for a gentleman's lounge than a temple. The servants had left a decanter of wine so white it was nearly silver, and the high priestess gestured for Tal to pour her a glass.
