The ferry captain was clearly respected in the community. He was were greeted effusively and given the best table in the house. The whitewashed adobe walls were painted with murals of desert scenes, and the tables were covered with clean white cloths, unusual even in cities. The dwarven staff gave them prompt and courteous attention, and Tajik suggested that they order braised erdlu steaks with herb sauce and wild rice and baked, honey-glazed gava root. He flushed and immediately apologized, realizing his error.
“Forgive me,” he said, glancing at Ryana awkwardly. “I had forgotten that villichi priestesses do not eat flesh. I did not mean to give offense.”
“None was intended, and none taken,” Ryana replied with a smile. “I am not offended by others eating flesh. For myself, I would prefer some simple vegetables. The wild rice and gava root sound perfect.”
Tajik looked relieved. “In that case, may I also suggest the spiced bread, which they do very well here, and the mulled ale, which is excellent.”
“It sounds delightful,” said Ryana.
“And what of yourself, my friend?” asked Tajik, turning to Sorak. “Do you also abstain from meat?”
Ordinary, Sorak would have answered yes.
Though elves were omnivorous and halflings were carnivorous, even to the extent that they often ate human flesh, he had been raised in the villichi convent and had always followed the villichi ways. However, his other personalities had remained true to his origins. They had craved the taste of meat, which he had forsworn. To avoid a conflict, he had reached a compromise of sorts with his more predatory personalities. Though he had refrained from eating flesh, after he went to sleep, his other personalities would assume control of his body, and would go out to hunt. They would stalk and make their kill as halflings did, consuming the flesh still raw and bloody.
Though divested of his other personalties, Sorak felt an unfamiliar craving brought on my the smells from the kitchen. Since leaving Bodach, he had eaten only wild desert plants and a mixture of nuts and dried fruits. Though he had taken vows as a preserver, those vows did not specifically prohibit him from eating meat. Ryana’s vows as a villichi priestess did, and though she had broken those vows by leaving the convent, she still kept to the spirit of them. He was neither priest nor villichi. He knew that his body had eaten meat regularly in the past, though he had no memory of it.
“I think I shall try the erdlu.”
Ryana glanced at him curiously, raising her eyebrows.
“Excellent choice,” said Tajik, beaming.
Ryana pursed her lips and said nothing.
When the meal came, it was delicious. Sorak ate ravenously. His first taste triggered a craving for more. He had never felt anything like it before.
“You must have been hungry,” Tajik said with a grin, watching him eat. “Here, try some of this ale.”
“Thank you, but I prefer water,” Sorak said.
“Water?” Tajik said with surprise. “You prefer water to ale?”
“I do not drink spirits,” Sorak said.
“Not even wine?”
Sorak shook his head. “I have no taste for it.”
“Pity,” Tajik said, shaking his head sadly. Like most dwarves, he loved to drink, and he quaffed the ale as quickly as the serving girl refilled the pitcher. Sorak had heard that dwarves could out-drink anybody, and watching Tajik swill the ale, he believed it.
“So, have you come to South Ledopolus in search of employment, or are you just passing through?”
Sorak hesitated. “I have not yet decided,” he replied after a moment.
“Ah. Well, if you choose to stay, for however long, perhaps I could be of assistance. I am not without influence here, and would be pleased to give you a recommendation.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” Sorak said. “But for the present, we would simply like to rest from our journey before making further plans.”
“Where were you traveling from?” asked Tajik. “Most people come to South Ledopolus by way of the caravan route, yet you came across the estuary.
Don’t tell me you walked all the way from the Mekillots?”
“That is the way we came,” said Sorak, which was the truth, though not the whole truth.
“A long, hard journey,” Tajik said. “But not really a surprising one, for two people who had crossed the Barrens. You came from Salt View then?”
Ryana nodded. “Yes, we spent some time there.” Which was also true.
“The gaming houses of Salt View are not the sort of place one would expect to find a villichi priestess,” Tajik said.
“Our pilgrimages take us all over the world,” Ryana replied. “Besides, why preach to the converted? Wherever there is hope of spreading the preserver cause, that is where you’ll find us.”
Tajik nodded, apparently satisfied, but Sorak had a feeling the ferry captain suspected they were withholding information. Without his telepathic personalities, though, Sorak could not know. He saw no reason to distrust Tajik, but prudence advised against being completely frank with him.
“What can you tell me of a mercenary named Kieran?” Sorak asked, to change the subject.
Tajik frowned and shook his head. “The name is not familiar to me.”
“He was the one who gave me his water on the boat,” said Sorak.
“Ah, the one dressed like a walking catalog of rare hides?” asked Tajik.
“That’s him,” said Sorak.
The ferry captain shook his head. “I noticed him. Who could not, with clothes like that? But I have never seen him before. His name is Kieran, you say?”
“Yes, that was the name he gave me.”
“Hmm. Well, I could ask around. Is there a particular reason for your curiosity?”
“He offered me employment,” Sorak said. “He said he was on his way to Altaruk to accept a position as captain of the guard with the House of Jhamri.”
“Indeed?” said Tajik, raising his eyebrows “That speaks highly of his capabilities. Jhamri hires nothing but the best for senior officers. If this Kieran has offered you employment, perhaps you should accept. You will not find anything in South Ledopolus that could
