yard before Jamet saw that he’d lingered.
He passed beyond the iron fence and came to a startling realization. It was the first time he’d been alone since he’d been captured. The shadar-kai in the training yard were absorbed in sparring, Cree and Skagi hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared when he’d left, and Jamet hadn’t sent anyone with him to the temple.
Ashok’s thoughts hadn’t turned to escape since his adventure with the nightmare. After that first attempt, he knew they would be watching him closely, so he’d focused on learning all he could about Ikemmu and trying to divine what Uwan wanted from him. But his captors’ attention had waned, he thought. How could he take advantage of the lapse?
Ashok walked slowly, crossing the markets, which were just as bustling as they had been the previous day. He saw Gaina, hawking his colorful clothing, and gave the human a wide berth. The circuitous route took him down a quieter avenue of shops. The buildings here were older, showing only light fire damage, so Ashok could see shadows of their former beauty.
Many of the roofs had been tall and conical-a field of spherical stone to match the imposing towers. But the shapes had become tumbling and crooked. There were no doors on the older structures, only archways outlined in brick.
Ashok passed close enough to one of the shops to see strange carvings embedded in the bricks. He hesitated, tracing a finger in one that was roughly shaped like a bird. Latent heat brushed his fingertips, and a slight electrical shock. He took his hand away, surprised.
“Are you lost, friend?” a voice called.
Ashok looked down to see a diminutive woman step from the shop. She had bright hair stacked in thick braids on top of her head. Her angular face made her blue and white and black eyes look enormous, but they were friendly and curious as they met his.
“Come in,” she beckoned him, when Ashok didn’t reply. She spoke the shadar-kai tongue as well as if she’d been born one of the race.
Curious, Ashok followed her into the shop, which was dimly lit by candles in sconces scattered about the room. Tables covered in red and black cloths filled the floor space, and on them were racks of bottles and quills, stacks of blank parchment, wax, and seals. Ashok smelled the scent of thick ink deeply sunk into the place.
“Sit down,” the woman said, guiding him with a hand at the back of his thigh to a human-fitted chair near the counter. She didn’t seem the least intimidated by his size. “I would have invited you in sooner, but I must admit I was surprised to see you standing out there,” she said.
“Why?” Ashok asked.
The woman looked at him strangely. The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement. “It’s just I don’t get many shadar-kai visitors here,” she said. “My clients are mostly human, dwarf, or halfling, like me.”
Ashok picked up one of the blank parchment sheets. “What is it you do here?” he asked.
“Messages,” the woman said. “We transcribe them, and a courier delivers them. The shadar-kai don’t often communicate beyond the city.” She added quickly, “That’s not to say I’m denying you, not at all. If you need to send a message …”
Ashok shook his head. “I saw the runes on your doorway,” he replied. “I was curious.”
“Ah, yes,” the woman said, smiling. “I’ve had visitors come to study them, seeking to learn Ikemmu’s history.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Are you interested in such things?”
“I don’t know,” Ashok said. He traced a fingertip across the smooth parchment stacked on the counter.
“Stop, stop!” the woman cried, uttering a startled oath in a language he didn’t recognize. She took his hand in her small one. The blood had almost dried, but the cuts on his knuckles were ugly and inflamed. “You’ve hurt yourself,” she said.
Ashok had acknowledged the continuing sting, but he hadn’t noticed the blood streaks soaking through the parchment sheets. “Forgive me,” he said.
She waved a hand. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Excuse me.” She went through another archway to an adjoining room off the shop. When she returned, she held a roll of bandages.
Ashok reached down to take them from her, but she unrolled the strips herself and wound them over his knuckles. She tied a knot beneath his fingers.
“Done,” she said.
“My thanks,” Ashok said, flexing his fingers around the bandages, making sure he could still maneuver a chain. With regret, he watched the woman remove the blood-soaked parchment sheets and put them behind the counter.
Suddenly, he remembered the soiled bandages with his blood marks on them. He could feel them; they hadn’t been lost in his escape attempt.
“What do you want for it?” he said.
The woman was rolling up the extra bandages. “What did you say?” she asked.
“The parchment,” Ashok said. “Will you trade for the parchment, quill, and ink-including what was damaged?” He spoke without thinking. He had nothing to trade her.
The woman looked at him with the same curious expression she’d used earlier. “Are you new to Ikemmu?” she asked.
He worked his jaw. It was so easy for them to see he was an outsider. “Yes,” he replied.
“Ah, I thought so,” the woman said as she held out her small hand for him to clasp. “In that case, welcome. My name is Darnae. May I know you?”
“Ashok,” Ashok said. He took the small hand in three of his fingers, marveling at her softness, like a child but with hard calluses where the quill had worn her skin.
“Well, Ashok,” Darnae said, smiling. “You may select whatever of my wares you wish. You owe me no coin.”
“Why not?” he asked, on his guard again.
“You’re in training, yes?” she replied. “You came to fight?”
To fight. That was true enough. “Yes,” he said.
“Ikemmu provides for its soldiers,” Darnae explained. “Whatever their needs, we fulfill them. A small price, most of us feel, for the security we enjoy in the city, and the opportunity to trade with so many other races, so many worlds.”
Ashok nodded, but he was remembering the confrontation between Skagi and Gaina. “I have heard … the shadar-kai here can’t do certain things for themselves,” he said.
“Yes,” Darnae agreed. “But not for lack of skill,” she added quickly, looking uncomfortable. “We understand that, as warriors, your first concern is defending Ikemmu. In a trade city such as this … How do I say it? There are many races here with a variety of needs. And there is daily drudgery, mundane tasks created when so many choose to live side by side. These things the shadar-kai were not made to do. You would fade. So the other races fill those roles.” She picked up a stack of parchment sheets, a bottle of ink, and a quill. She started to slide them into a brown leather case, but Ashok waved her off.
“There’s no need,” he said. “I’ll carry them.”
“As you wish,” she replied, handing him the items. “Do you know how to use them?” she asked tentatively.
“I know enough,” Ashok said. “How did the other races come to trade here?”
“Ikemmu is uniquely situated in the Shadowdark,” Darnae said. “We are at a crossroads between the planes. The shadar-kai protect the passage and allow outlanders to establish permanent businesses within the city. Few enclaves are so fortunate, so Ikemmu has grown and prospered.”
Ashok nodded, thinking how his own enclave would never open itself up to outsiders.
“My thanks,” he said. He stood and walked to the archway. Darnae stayed behind the counter, watching him. He paused between the candlelight and the shadows. “Has anyone ever found out what the markings mean?” he said, reaching out to skim the air over the runes. He felt the hovering electrical charge, just out of reach.
“No,” Darnae said. “But they all agree something terrible happened here, long ago.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
