“A pity,” Master Blair sighed, then started towards the door. Two more of the mesh balls appeared in his hands as if by magic. People quickly stepped out of his way, then took another step back when Master Bush followed him.
The traders were almost at the door when Master Blair spotted Jebel and Tel Hesani. “There you are!” he boomed. “I thought you had departed already.”
“We couldn’t get out,” Jebel said, nodding at the innkeeper.
Master Blair raised an eyebrow at the um Shihat. “Would you please step aside, kind sir? We wish to leave.”
“I want a death tithe,” the innkeeper snarled. “That savage was part of a group. They’ll come here looking to cause trouble when they find out he’s dead. The only hope I have of keeping them quiet is to fix them up with ale and women.”
“A troublesome task,” Master Blair said. “You have my condolences.”
“I don’t want your condolences,” the innkeeper growled. “I want a death tithe. A tenth of your winnings — that’s fair. Then you can leave without any trouble.”
“That
“A tenth is not so much,” Master Bush said. “Perhaps we should take this good man at his word and pay the tithe.”
“I have looked deep into his eyes, Master Bush. He is a liar. I am certain.”
“I ain’t no liar!” the innkeeper barked. “And I ain’t letting you out unless you pay that stinking tithe.”
Master Blair’s smile tightened. “And if we choose to kill you, sir?”
“You won’t,” the innkeeper snorted. “Killing a savage is one thing, but if you kill me, you’ll have half the soldiers in Shihat on your backs before you’re ten paces out the door.”
Master Blair nodded. “You make a valid point. But I believe we could get more than ten paces from here… twelve at the least. Master Bush?”
“Most definitely twelve,” Master Bush murmured.
Master Blair tutted. “You have placed us in a dilemma. If we pay, we’ll never know who was wrong and who was right. And we are men who hate to live in doubt. So, as hazardous as it may prove to be…”
With a lazy smile, Master Blair’s left hand jerked, and the mesh ball struck the innkeeper in the middle of his throat. As he fell aside, choking, Master Blair yanked the door open, grabbed Jebel, and thrust him through. He made to grab Tel Hesani, but the slave was already following the boy. Master Blair spun, launched his final ball at the crowd — Master Bush had thrown both of his too — then the pair of traders darted after the um Wadi and his slave, slamming the door shut on the screams of the outraged mob.
“This way, gentlemen,” Master Bush said, heading for an alley.
Jebel started to follow the traders, but Tel Hesani caught him. “We shouldn’t go with them,” he said.
Jebel paused. Events had unfolded so quickly, his head was in a whirl.
Master Blair winked. “You’re free to make your own way if you wish, young Rum, but we know this town better than you or your slave. My advice is to throw your lot in with us.”
The pair fled down the alley. Jebel stared at Tel Hesani, wanting him to make the call. The slave hesitated, then heard the door of the inn opening. Slapping Jebel’s back, he pointed after the traders. They ducked down the alley just before the first members of the mob appeared, screeching bloody murder.
Jebel and Tel Hesani soon caught up with Masters Bush and Blair. The traders were making good time, but they weren’t racing. Master Blair even took a moment to stop in front of a window to check his appearance and smooth his mustache.
“You didn’t have to kill him,” Jebel gasped.
“The Um Safafaha?” Master Blair said, surprised.
“No — the innkeeper. Why didn’t you pay him?”
“He would have raised the alarm regardless,” Master Blair said. “I know his sort. He would have set the soldiers on us even if we’d given him all our swagah.”
They turned down another dark alley. Jebel had no idea where they were. He could hear the mob somewhere behind, yelling and cursing. He was terrified, but Master Blair seemed unaffected by the uproar.
“Was it true?” Jebel asked Master Bush as they jogged. “Did you cheat?”
“Please!” Master Bush said with a pained expression. “One never asks a valued friend such an insensitive question.”
“Where are we going?” growled Tel Hesani. He would have gladly broken free of the traders, except he didn’t know the town.
“The docks,” Master Bush said. “We have a small skiff moored and ready to sail. There isn’t much room, but you’re more than welcome to share it with us.”
“We can’t,” Jebel said. “I’m a quester. I have to travel on foot.”
“I understand,” said Master Bush. “But in an emergency such as this…”
“No,” Jebel said stubbornly. “Sabbah Eid would curse me if I did.”
“As you wish,” Master Bush sighed. “I admire your dedication, even though I fear it may prove your undoing.”
They jogged in silence, winding their way through the dark, twisting streets. The sounds of the mob faded but didn’t go away. Jebel’s heart pumped furiously. He had never had to flee for his life before. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
Ten minutes later they reached a quiet section of the docks. There were few boats moored here and Jebel soon smelt why — they were by the rim of a sewer, where waste overflowed into the as-Surout. The stench was overwhelming. Jebel reeled aside and was sick. Tel Hesani was almost sick too, but he managed to keep his food down. Masters Bush and Blair seemed oblivious to the smell. They made for a skiff tied close to where the waste opened into the river. A wretched boy was standing guard. He was naked except for a short sword strapped to his side. He drew it now and snarled at the traders. Master Bush tossed him a silver swagah and pushed onto the boat.
Master Blair tossed another piece of swagah to the boy, then shooed him away. He turned to smile at Jebel and Tel Hesani. “Last chance, good sirs. We’re sailing north, following much the same route as you. But we’ll cover it faster, and we won’t have to worry about cannibals, alligators, mosquitoes, or the other nuisances of the swamp. We’ll gladly take you with us.”
“We can’t,” Jebel said miserably. “It’s a condition of the quest.”
“Very well. On your own heads be it.” Master Blair jumped down into the boat and untied the last of the knots.
“There’s a bordello two streets over,” Master Bush said as they pushed out into the current. “It has a cellar bar, one of the worst holes in Shihat — and that’s saying something! But it’s dark and quiet there. My advice is to pick your way to it and keep your heads down until morning.”
“Thank you,” Jebel said, sorry to see the pair leave, despite the trouble they’d brought upon him. “I wish you luck with your mining venture.”
“And we wish you all the luck of the gods with your quest,” Master Bush said. As the current caught the skiff, the trader sat alongside Master Blair, and each man took up an oar and began rowing.
“We’ll look for you farther up the trail,” Master Blair called, waving with one hand. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”
“I hope so,” Jebel replied, waving in return. He would have liked to watch the strange Masters sail out of sight, but Tel Hesani nudged him roughly. “All right,” Jebel snapped. Turning his back on the river, he hurried after Tel Hesani as the slave led him in search of sordid sanctuary.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
