not be so easy for him to make her the target of his pranks.
“Jebem, halai!”
At the cry, Dannyl looked up eagerly.
“What is it?” Tayend asked.
Dannyl set aside his plate with a grimace. Though dried marin paste was a delicacy, nothing could make stale ship bread appetizing.
“Jebem has been sighted,” he said, rising. Hunching over so he did not knock his head on the roof, Dannyl moved toward the door. As he stepped outside, light dazzled him. The sun hung low over the sea, setting the waves glittering brightly. The heat of the day lingered in the air and radiated from the deck.
Looking to the north, Dannyl caught his breath, then ducked inside the doorway and beckoned to Tayend. Straightening, he moved down the deck to the bow, and gazed at the distant city.
Low houses built of flat, gray stones spread endlessly along the coast. From among them rose thousands of obelisks.
Tayend had appeared at his side. “Big, isn’t it?” the scholar breathed.
Dannyl nodded. The small coastal villages they had passed in the last few days had been made up of houses in the same simple style, with a handful of obelisks rising above them. The houses of Jebem were no grander, but the sheer size of the city was astounding. The obelisks among them were like a forest of needles, and the low sun painted all with a vivid red-orange light.
They watched silently as the ship continued along the coast. A row of rocky outcrops appeared, running parallel to the city like guards. The ship sailed into the gap between. When they drew level to the part of the city where the obelisks were thickest, the ship slowed and turned into a narrow channel. On either side, dark-skinned men hurried to the stone banks. They tossed ropes to the sailors, which were then looped around stout posts on the ship. The other ends were already fastened to teams of gorin. The large beasts began hauling the ship down the channel.
For the next hour the Lonmar wharf-laborers guided the ship along the channel until it reached an artificial marina. Several other ships, some twice the size of their own, rocked gently in the water. As the ship was lashed to posts along the wharf, Dannyl and Tayend returned to their rooms to gather their belongings.
After a brief and formal exchange with the captain, they walked down the gangplank to dry land. Their trunks were handed to four men. A fifth stepped forward and bowed.
“Greetings, Ambassador Dannyl, young Tremmelin. I am Loryk, your translator. I will take you to the Guild House. Please follow me.”
He made a quick, imperious gesture at the carriers and started into the city. Following, Dannyl and Tayend walked along several wharves and onto a wide street.
Dust filled the air, muting the colors around them. The sea breeze was replaced by a stifling heat and a mixture of perfume, spice and dust. Men filled the streets, all well covered in simple Lonmar clothing. Voices surrounded them, but the liquid-sounding words were incomprehensible. Those men they passed stared at Dannyl openly, then at Tayend, their gaze neither welcoming nor disapproving. Occasionally one narrowed his eyes at Tayend, who had put on his fanciest court costume and looked very out of place.
The scholar was unusually quiet. Looking at his companion, Dannyl recognized the now-familiar signs of unease: a small crease had appeared between Tayend’s brows and he walked a half-step behind. As the scholar met his gaze, Dannyl gave him a reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry. It’s unsettling at first, being in a strange city.”
Tayend’s frown disappeared, and he drew level with Dannyl as they followed the translator through a narrow alley. Emerging in a large square, Dannyl checked his stride and looked around in dismay.
Wooden stages had been built all around. On the closest a woman stood, hands bound. Beside her was a man dressed in white, his head shaved and covered with tattoos and holding a whip in his left hand. Another man was striding among the crowd that had gathered around the stage, reciting something from a piece of paper.
Dannyl lengthened his stride to catch up with the translator.
“What is he saying?”
Loryk listened. “The woman has shamed her husband and family by inviting another man into her bedroom.” He waved a hand. “This is Judgment Square.”
Shouts rang out, drowning out the rest of the proclamation. A crowd had gathered around several of the stages. As Dannyl followed the carriers away from the woman, he noticed a young man standing nearby, watching her. The man’s dark eyes glittered with moisture, but his face was set and rigid.
Husband or lover? Dannyl wondered.
The center of the square was less crowded. The carriers crossed and made their way between two stages. The white-dressed men standing on the stages held swords. Dannyl kept his eyes on the translator’s back, but a voice rose above the jeering of the crowd and Loryk slowed.
“Ah... he says: this man has shamed his family with his unnatural... what is your word? Lusts? He has earned the ultimate punishment for corrupting the souls and bodies of men. Just as the sun sets and darkness purges the world of sin, only his death may cleanse those souls he has soiled.”
Despite the heat, Dannyl felt cold spread through his body. The condemned man was slumped against a pole, his expression resigned. The crowd began to shout, their faces twisted in hatred. Dannyl looked away, struggling to hold back a tide of horror and anger. The man was going to be executed for a crime that in Kyralia earned only dishonor and shame, and in Elyne - according to Tayend - was no crime at all.
Dannyl could not help thinking back to the scandal and rumor that had caused him so much trouble as a novice. He had been accused of the same “crime” as this man. Proof hadn’t mattered; once the rumor had started, he had been treated as an outcast by both novices and teachers. He shivered as the crowd roared again behind them. If I’d been unlucky enough to be born in Lonmar, this might have been how the matter ended.
Loryk entered another alley and the jeering faded behind them. Dannyl glanced at Tayend. The scholar’s face was white.
“It’s one thing to hear or read of the strict laws of another land, quite another to see them being enacted,” the scholar murmured. “I swear that I will never complain about the excesses of the Elyne court again.”
The translator continued along another street, then stopped as the carriers entered a low building.
“The Guild House in Jebem,” he announced as they reached the door. “I will leave you here.”
The man bowed and walked away. Examining the building, Dannyl noted a plaque bearing the Guild symbol set into the wall. Otherwise, the building was the same as any other they had seen. Stepping through the open door, they entered a room with a low ceiling. An Elyne magician stood nearby.
“Greetings,” he said. “I am Vaulen, First Guild Ambassador for Lonmar.”
The man was gray-haired and thin. Dannyl inclined his head. “Second Guild Ambassador for Elyne, Dannyl.” He gestured to Tayend, who bowed gracefully. “Tayend of Tremmelin, scholar of the Great Library and my assistant.”
Vaulen nodded to Tayend politely. His eyes dropped to Tayend’s violet shirt. “Welcome to Jebem. I feel I must warn you, Tayend of Tremmelin, that the Lonmar people value humility and simplicity and disapprove of bright clothing, no matter how fashionable. I can recommend a good tailor who can provide you with quality attire in a simpler style for your stay.”
Dannyl expected to see a glint of rebellion in the scholar’s eyes, but Tayend bowed his head graciously. “Thank you for the warning, my lord. I will see this tailor tomorrow if he is available.”
“I have had rooms prepared for you,” Vaulen continued. “I’m sure you want to rest after your journey. We have separate baths here - the servants will show you where. Afterward, you are welcome to join me for the evening meal.”
They followed a servant down a short corridor. The man gestured to two open doors, bowed, then strode away. Tayend stepped inside one of the rooms, then stopped and gazed around, looking lost.
Dannyl hesitated, then stepped inside. “Are you all right?”
Tayend shuddered. “They’re going to execute him, aren’t they? They probably already have.”
Realizing Tayend was talking about the condemned man in Judgment Square, he nodded. “Probably.”
“Nothing we could do. Another country, different laws, and all that.”
“Unfortunately.”
