12 06 2025 Saturday - I had trouble copying the text here. Lol! (the moon is void of course until tomorrow evening at about 6:45pm
2025 12 03 ☿ ; 2025 11 23 🌞
2025 11 25 ♂ BATS CATCHING MOTHS ♠ ♣ ♥ ♦
OUR STORY THUS FAR: Naxosos desires to confront the Meriezirim Honey, who has established herself in the city of Viragos. To gain this, he has had to argue at great length with all the members of his ever-growing, ever-expanding tribe.
Having had to make a quick exit from the Gorardeno Nathaniel's galley Irista's Bull just outside the great harbor of Viragos Haven, the cohort travels first to Dargana Sud, a fishing village some miles from the city, then on to Letratha, a village friendly to the Children of God quite a bit closer to the city walls, within the province.
There it's decided the jolly band will split up to make life harder for the multitude of entities trying to capture them. Naxosos, Naemas, Korsis, Joliel, and the warrior Zyanonchoulain travel back to the mouth of Viragos Haven and then by boat to a place near the shore owned by the sorcerer Joliel for some years now, a residence he won from the dishonest merchant Moratis – the story of which is recounted in "King of the Waste [5] / demonstration"
Paranis is of course competent and wise, and if the reader has read "the vineyard laborers" (in King of the Land of the Dead [4] the poison tree) the reader knows that he becomes one of Naxosos's disciples and journeys with them on foot a great long way – this, however, is a couple of years into the future. Naxosos has only just met Dantozi Paranis, who helped him and his cohort escape from Irista's Bull as it was about to be boarded and searched.
Nirith is pregnant with Naxosos's child* and she has remained in Fehischian-Rah, a mountain stronghold where the Children of God had to take refuge after being kicked out of Fehischian-Or – Honey's town of origination – just in case anyone wonders. That Nirith and her child have been threatened by Honey, the Meriezirim, is one of the reasons Naxosos seeks to confront her in one of her lairs.
* There has scarcely been anything published about Naxosos's kid with the sorceress Nirith, Thais's Second, as of today, 22 November 2025. The girl, Shaenaelli, is mentioned as being deceased as of the beginning of "King of the Land of the Dead [3] a devil's work" – in "KOTLOTD [1] a bitter draught" Nirith is still pregnant, the reason she isn't with the cohort at the beginning of "a bitter draught" (the excerpt "about thirty") and all during that chapter.
* * * *
7 May 2019 / 22 May 2025 ♃ / 20 October 2025 ☽/ 3 December 2025 ☿ / 15 December 2025 🌘
JTPYO – King of the Land of the Dead [2] / the living dead (excerpt: at the house of Moratis)
Copyright © 2019, 2020, 2021 2022, 2023, 2024, 2025 by Kristi A. Wilson ("King of the Land of the Dead [2] / the living dead" was begun in 2019; this excerpt is an addition to that book, begun in 2025)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Which is me.
"You may also recall, therefore," the sorcerer continued pleasantly on, "the tale that Naemas assisted me in recounting, that of the merchant Moratis, who endeavored to cheat the tribe, perhaps worse, and was remanded in full measure for his infraction that very same evening."
Naxosos, Naemas, Korsis, Joliel, and the warrior Zyanonchoulain would per the plan take a covered cart to the shore south of the city walls, where one of Paranis's boats would pick them up. Circling widely out into the Channel, west and then north, to get all the way around the sea-gates, then making east to Viragos Haven (with luck, this would not take all night and they wouldn't be hailed by anyone), the abbreviated company would, assuming their entrance into the Haven itself went uneventfully, set southwards into the Lower Haven (exchangeably, the Lower Bay or Lower Harbor) – a broad, shallow inlet sheltered against fractious waters and wayward winds by Cape Kra'a'el to the west and to the east, the encircling cliffs of Viragos.
Once they were disembarked upon the Lower Quay, there would be left only a short walk to a property owned by the sorcerer Joliel, formerly the estate of deceased merchant Moratis. The house, Morativela, lay well within Viragos's walls.
All this so the five of them could pass into Viragos without having to dare the city's gates. ("Although," Korsis had commented sourly, "I'll bet you ten zees that Honey knows where we are right now and she'll be waiting for us when we land!")
And so they parted.
Their plan began its unfoldment with a nerve-wracking journey of some miles around the southernmost walled border of Viragos, lying covered in a ridiculously small covered trap pulled by two mules (and briskly, though for the hours it lasted the ride was jolting, hot, and distinctly uncomfortable).
The cohort reduced to five arrived, at long last, to spend another uncertain hour waiting (and rubbing bottoms sore from a few hours of bouncing in a farmer's cart along a rocky, rutted, lane – where an eagle-eyed patrolman could have spotted them from almost any place upon the southwestern wall, if they had not been covered) upon a lonely, bracken- and bramble-grown, gravelly spit. Just as the sunset, brass drowned in green, was about to disappear into the depth of the western Channel, Paranis's landing-barge showed up and they were able to board.
To everyone's relief, this part of the operation went as planned – of course it was much too soon for a victory celebration and Korsis took the opportunity to repeat his dreary trope about the Meriezirim more than once; Naxosos observed thereby that Naemas was distant and upset. He's upset about Honey. Of course. Then, with shame: Still angry, too. At least it was dark enough that he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing his blushes.
Remembering, then, the warrior Two-Swords, whose thoughts and emotions currently were shielded from him: This one had been her husband for a few weeks, and that at his request, Naxosos, sovereign of the Children of God. The project had not gone well.
Naemas, though he acknowledged the woman's intractable will towards evil and vowed he would see her dead, still cared for her and was disturbed at the idea that he might have to kill her, or see her killed – poor Zyanonchoulain, Naxosos found himself thinking now, was also still attached to Honey and hated the idea of seeing her harmed, although she had murdered the Gorardeno's servants without a care in the world, and by report had killed others since that time.
But it was the reason Naemas and Two-Swords were here in the first place: Attachment is a spoor, Naxosos reminded himself, often easier to follow than a blood-trail. And (he well knew) Two-Swords would kill any man, or an entire town, at his or Thais's command, or – if asked-for – at the sorcerer's recommendation.
My fault. I have to fix it.
At about this time he began uneasily to consider that perhaps his mission to confront the woman in one of her strongholds – by her ability to possess others into committing extreme acts, she had gained several holdings in just a couple of months – was juvenile and ill-considered. This had already been suggested, of course, but since Naimejo had been the strongest advocate of "Naxosos doesn't know what he's doing, so let's all sit back down and argue about what to do for another couple of days," Naxosos had been able to overrule him.
He said nothing about his apprehensions. It's too late; I have to do it.
At the third hour past sunset, then, the group finally rounded the second sea-gate and pointed itself toward Viragos.
Paranis's rowers rowed with all their might for many long and stressful minutes before the shore could, from the low-slung, toiling craft, be seen.
Naxosos was exempt from having to work the oars today: Before the risk of apprehension required them to hide, he was able to get a view of their surroundings: seen from the heights many, many times, and from out on the Channel, but never from this vantage. It was at once exhilarating and dire, considering their mission and how many of their party had objected to it.
Viragos Port, the Haven it was called for more than an age, was vast; the tide was out when they entered, with the Etrisiato running over the mudflats, producing streams and billows of silt to impede a rower: At least the brakes of lode-thorn, their tangled roots white with encrusted salt, were easily seen and avoided.
To make things a bit more troublesome, the craft dragged a net weighted with empty casks and crates to give the appearance of fishers returning from the Channel with a haul – this to serve as explanation for why they were riding so low, for the warrior Zyanonchoulain lay hidden toward the stern. (The tillerman had joked, "He'll keep my feet warm!")
The oarsmen labored. Paranis held a heavily-shielded lantern at the prow – a regulation, he'd explained, as when there were this many boats on the water it was indicated (not mandatory) to show no more than a token light, and only uncover a lamp if two barges drifted closer than fifty yards to one another. Glaring illumination was considered bad manners when the waters and winds were calm.
Naxosos watched the light of the moon increase as they surged into the bay, outlining Canareg-i Tower, currently unlit except for a few torches, and the solid-appearing block of Noseruek Fort, side by side on the Cape. These were familiar sights; the closer they drew to Etrisiato's principal outlet, however, the more the craft's course veered to the right, toward South Viragos Haven or the Lower Bay.
He tried not to wax emotional at the sight of his beloved city rising grandly, slowly, darkly out of the of the Haven's peaceful waters, particularly when its famed walkways and bridges arching over, winding sinuously along the sides of the Etrisiato's gorge were suddenly, under his captive gaze, outlined in moonlight: black lacework on silvery cloth.
This beguiling spectacle fell behind them and to the left, and after a great deal of worry (and, on the part of the rowers, work) the lander nosed past Cape Kra'a'el: The Lower Haven, with its white torchlit Quay, was then seen from water-level. So placid was the inlet's surface tonight that it reflected a great many things as the sky lightened – a great darkness was cast by the west-facing cliffs, however: Even with their illuminated walkways and wharves, a mile or more of the eastern Quay lay enfeebled in shadow.
He had spent the greater part of his life less than a mile from it, but never visited this part of the city or its harbor and had only caught glimpses from one of Nathaniel's big boats on the Port; his knowledge of it, therefore, was mainly from hearsay and, secondarily, maps. (Luckily he'd had the opportunity, and plenty of encouragement, to study various maps on the Gorardeno's ship over the last few weeks, so he was not completely lost.)
The Trading-Guild's Lower Quay it was named in Tramrini, though this was a name from the past: Most of the current residents were the entitled wealthy and mostly Celan at that – the Guild had long since departed for friendlier quarters.
The Lower Quay and the Lower Banks – the Kheorani names for these were even shorter and more prosaic.
The stonework and concrete of the Lower Banks now drifted into view, three or more miles of landings, stairs, ramps, and terraces worked into the inlet's steep sides, all whitewashed and shining through the murk. Behind this rampart the moon continued to rise, at present only observable by its light silhouetting the cliffs to either side of River Etrisiato, and their clinging structures.
Since most of the area's residents were either long-time Kheorani holders, most of them nobility, or Celan nobles or military, the Lower Quay was not as bustling or noisy as the Upper Haven. Neither was it devoid of activity.
Naxosos was used to the Kheoranis' politeness and commerce-centered tolerance of those who minded their own business and created no problems. Celebrations and disagreements could get turbulent in Viragos, given the number of people within the walls at any given time, but on most days after dark, lighting and sounds were subdued: Anybody creating a disturbance could expect to be rudely chastised by residents and, if he persisted, a pair of local militia might then appear to settle things; it was the same in every quarter.
Dwellings proliferated on the Lower Banks: Many were costly, having their own private docks and landings; most were presently unlighted, or showed only the blurry flicker of a single lamp or candle. Paranis the boat-master had predicted this would be the case, and it was so.
The place was scarcely deserted: Houseboats floated on the placid water of the Lower Bay, for during this season shore residents would forsake the land – it was cooler on the water, with more movement of air and fewer pests.
Honey is here.
As soon as this idea began to whirl inside his head, the sorcerer Joliel – who had insisted upon being seated right next to him in the second bench from the prow – turned and grinned. "Again," this one said, speaking right into Naxosos's ear, causing him to shudder and clench his teeth, "I will urge you to turn back. Or, rather, let's spend a few nights in this place, which was pleasant enough the last time I slept here and I imagine it still is, and I will find a place for you to change a sulindar – it is easy, I already know a place – and then turn back. There's nothing to be gained, let me assure you." In a tittering whisper: "You know she doesn't want for you to go! But she will let you do as you like, to your destruction! Turn back! You know I am fond of you, it's true! And I'm telling you: Don't go! Paranis will return for us, and sneak us back out the same way –"
Naxosos didn't trust himself to make a reply. He glowered instead at the sorcerer, and shook his head.
He's right. You should forget the whole thing: your attempts to find the woman at this point will only afford her amusement.
Thinking about mending fishing nets, he knew, wouldn't block this voice.
You will have your chance. Leave it to Fortune, Lord.
No more! If I'm in danger I need to be alert. Then, with force: That means everyone should leave me ALONE!
At that instant Naemas was heard to make a loud coughing noise. Naxosos didn't have to look: He could feel the other's eyes on the back of his head.
Paranis, half-seated at the prow, turned and glared, and gruffed: "You know there are patrols all over the water! It's a quiet, eh, night; we are heard!" Pointedly, the boat-master glared at Joliel then: the sorcerer grinned unwholesomely back.
"Do you know the Dock Aliatrissa?" Joliel said then, speaking to Paranis. Before the other could reply, the sorcerer added: "That's where we go."
A fisherman, one of the rowers, now grumbled: "Why must we keep quiet, then?"
"I know the Aliatrissa," Paranis now said, answering Joliel. His tone became troubled. "It is…"
"Speak," the sorcerer prompted.
Instead of answering him, the boatman Paranis addressed the four rowers and tiller in low Celan, telling them to make for the Quay's south end, with a sharp advisement to keep to the center of the current until the dock was in view and not to do anything else until he gave another order.
With the manner then of a man taking his sweet time to answer someone, Paranis returned to the sorcerer and said pleasantly, in Tramrini, "That part of the Quay, sir, eh, it has a great deal of growth out into the water. Willows and such, and the dock is not well-tended; eh, to beg your pardon, sir. Also there we may have to cross mud there." Again there was a marked hesitation.
"Go on," the sorcerer urged with a little laugh.
"If we land at Effrasi Pier, eh, sir, ah, eh – there is lighting there and stonework that extends beyond the wharf-edge in case the water is low, eh. It is…" Doubting himself, Paranis trailed off.
Joliel dismissed the other's concern with a wave. "The servants are instructed to keep Aliatrissa in a state of neglect and poorly lighted. The neighbors will land at Effrasi instead and make their porters walk up-shore, or they will float down-current and tie up at Dronbeh. When we are even with the Aliatrissa – you will know – cut in toward the bank and make fast under the willows."
Naxosos could tell Paranis was doubtful of these instructions, competently delivered as they were; the man, he reflected, likely knew the area better than Joliel – who, while still aboard the Gorardeno's ship, had admitted he had spent less than a month here in the last five years.
Naemas is still furious with me, he considered soberly, and now he wants to turn back. He's getting scared.
Joliel turned to him grinning. Oh, believe me: He's terrified! He can never forget the first time we were here and –
ENOUGH!
It had been only thoughts, mind-speech, but the ensuing silence was as fraught with tension as if they had raised their voices; even the warrior could be heard shifting around uncomfortably.
But there were reasons the merchant Gorardeno Nathaniel had worked with Paranis boat-master of the Dantozi fishers for years and now entrusted him with the safety of his fugitive stepson.
Briskly, Paranis said to his rowers, "Let us put in at the Aliatrissa, as the Lord Magician has told us – if we start to drag, we can loose the net. It will probably stay in that spot, and all the cargo, anyway, so we can easily recover it! Pull, you know this place, we've done it before!" In a stage-whisper: "The patrol-boats won't dare to follow us in there, will they?" Then, in a much louder tone and in Celan, for any patrol-boat that might be within earshot: "Should we go back out into the bay and try to sell some of these fish to the Emperor, boys?" (Of course the crew understood and spoke Tramrini – Paranis was familiar with the Celans, however, and kept favor with them by adhering strictly to all their customs, regulations, and laws – and everyone aboard knew that if the patrolmen were to hear fishers calling out in their own argot within the Haven, they would be sure to stop the boat, perhaps search it, too.)
Each of the five crew chuckled dutifully, then made with their oars. Glancing back at Naemas and Korsis, who occupied the bench directly behind his, Naxosos saw the two exchange a worried look.
Naxosos had in his youth been accustomed to the Etrisiato's stench, but as the boat creaked and groaned into the Lower Bay, the reek that arose, combined with the gloppy sounds of the oars battling turgid water, didn't just make his eyes sting, but caused his gut to heave distressfully.
Moldy, musty, muddy, rotten, and sodden, like an open midden never rinsed combined with an open grave containing multiple corpses, as during a time of plague – only the poor would eat the fish that bred and multiplied at the Main Mouth, it was called, the mouth of the Etrisiato River that ran through the great City of Men, Viragos in Kheoran. In truth, Naxosos had never been this close to the harbor waters; the now reek was paralyzing him.
Time had elapsed since he'd been this close to the great City of Men, Viragos in Kheoran, where he had been an infant and a child, gone to school, and encountered others; he had become involved in the Temple, almost been killed, then driven out of the city. The building in which he and his mother, their house guard, and their servants had lived was high upon the southern side of the Etrisiato River's gorge, at the cliff's edge. His family lived in Cela now. Likely he would never see the place that had been his home again.
The building would catch any breeze admirably at any time of year, and was airy, even cool, in the hottest weather, but the gusts always brought odors. Now he remembered it all.
He had never really noticed Viragos's smell until the first time he had left and then returned. He had at about age four or five gone visiting with his mother to her family's holding in mountainous lands. Upon their return to Viragos, the pall of smoke and dust that lay over the city almost every day of the year, seen first from more than ten miles out, had caused a deep chagrin, akin to shame, that he had never noticed how bad it was before. (His mother had teased him, now he remembered, when he began to ask if they could return to Visijhi-Yerud, because of the smell and dust in the air.)
In the five years since he'd fled the city, he had gotten used to marching strapped with a burden, climbing, running (including having to run for his life), dancing, singing, throwing spears, driving cattle, and lounging about in heat so intense it would be lethal to almost any living being that couldn't quickly find water and shade. (He recalled now that Naimejo would quip about the heat, "It'll kill the rocks, too – that just takes a little longer!")
Somehow he'd managed to forget the smell.
Now disgust was not the only thing forcing him to repress his shudders – he was in fear.
In a burst: What am I doing here? Oh, Father! If I do not rightly, send me a sign, I beg you! He couldn't tell if Joliel perceived this thought; it didn't seem that he did.
The creaking of oars as the craft made its way into the sluggish waters of the lower harbor was for some time the most noticeable sound. There were muffled calls and clangs on the Cape, yelling and bells on the water. It was all as per usual.
The landing-boat passed the first bulwarks of whitewashed stone of the Lower Quay, the boathouses and servants' cots, and floating piers, and great hoists and winches near the water's edge – most of these were lighted and there were sounds and shadows, mostly of Kheorani servants about their work. Naxosos crouched low, drawing his cloak about him.
There is no sign…there is no sign, so…
A man called out now in Tramrini, loudly and stridently, from the bank. "Hallooooo-ooo! Is that Paranis?"
He didn't dare raise his head; even though Joliel sat close by him, he couldn't imagine what the other must be doing or thinking: As usual, he was cold, hard, and still as a stone.
Paranis called out, cheerful and unconcerned: "Ah, Efranoh! What do you do here?" With a one-word command to the rowers to back oars, he then cried, "Hello, Ofek!" Now, surprisingly, a donkey was heard to bray, its hooves clopping on stone. "There is our friend Ofek! Anyway, eh, Efranoh, the last time we saw each other was – ah, I can't remember!" Both men laughed. The lander began, ponderously, to slew around in the current as the rowers backed. Naxosos could feel Korsis and Naemas trying not to breathe or twitch.
Peeking over the boat's edge, Naxosos spied – on the quay about fifty feet off, in torchlight under a sconce – a great, beetle-browed, shaven-faced and -headed, red-skinned Kheorani fisher, naked except for an almost nonexistent breechcloth, and muscled like a ring fighter, a gray donkey (appearing diminutive by comparison) at his side. The donkey nodded its head and grinned as though at someone fond and familiar.
Heart hammering, slowly, Naxosos ducked back into a bent-kneed crouch.
Efranoh gave no indication that he had spotted any movement. "Where you going, old Paranis?" he now cried.
"I asked you first," Paranis returned.
"We're working here – folks on the Lower Quay are going out on the water because it's been so hot and the bugs are really bad! So we're, ah, helping them cart their stuff out." Humorously, the donkey Ofek brayed again as though in agreement.
Efranoh continued: "Hey are you going further into Low Haven with your boat loaded down like that?" In the distinct tone of a busybody, he added: "Is that fish?"
"Ha, no, my friend," Paranis replied. "Now that you ask, I'm taking some containers into the Aliatrissa. The owner of Morativela is selling some of his statuary and furnishings!" (This in a tone suggestive of a shrug.)
Naxosos felt Paranis smile when the other man was silent for some seconds. "Paranis, old buddy," Efranoh finally said, his booming amiability replaced by disbelieving hesitance, "Morativela is no longer owned by Moratis, did you know? He went missing some time ago: Years. The landing at Aliatrissa is all overgrown – in fact I doubt you will be able to put in there. Why don't you –"
Now Joliel stood; so relatively light in weight was he, the boat hardly twitched. (Paranis didn't flinch; Naxosos admired the man's insouciance; also he wondered if this was the requested sign.)
"Hello, the land," the sorcerer Joliel said pleasantly to the man on the shore.
Before anyone could say anything else, the donkey gave a startled whinny and Naxosos heard its hooves clatter as it reared and bucked – probably in fright. At the same instant, Efranoh uttered a startled curse.
It didn't sound like there were others in the immediate area, though Naxosos could hear people talking in a building nearby.
"Srani Fisher," Joliel went on, his tone one of soft mockery, "this fellow and his crew are taking me to Morativela. You are right; the noble Moratis no longer owns the house: I do."
"Reltras," Naxosos heard Efranoh say in a breathy whisper. In spite of the oppressive heat, he went cold all over.
"So I am called," Joliel replied.
Now Paranis said, in a tone of enormous self-possession, "We're taking boxes and crates to Morativela –" and Joliel brightly added "So I can get some of that junk out of there!"
Paranis then continued: "We put the containers in a net so we would just look like we're coming in with some fish, eh, yes…?"
"Ah…" Efranoh was a large and muscular fellow, and judging from his bluster and his location when first encountered, he was not – not typically – easily intimidated. "It's all right…" Now, however, he sounded ready to take to his heels.
"Listen, Efranoh," Paranis said in the same easy tone, "we might need help with portage if it's as hard to get into the Aliatrissa as you say, and –"
"Ah…ah…" was all that the man Efranoh then seemed able to say. Naxosos began to feel sorry for him, which took some of the edge off his anxiety, though not much.
Look how afraid he is. There is your sign!
Naxosos didn't dare to look, but he didn't have to. It was easy to tell the man was in a welter of fear, and to hear the donkey's uneasy snuffling.
Joliel said now, "Srani Fisher, do not be concerned. Of course you don't want to try to get yourself and your beast through all that overgrowth and mud – you're barefoot and there might be rats!"
Behind him now was the faint but unmistakable sound of Korsis trying to stifle a laugh. At least someone isn't too worried…
"Do us a favor, if you will, however, sir," the sorcerer went airily on, "If you will occupy your current position until we return back up the Quay, and take note of whoever might pass going in the same direction as we. If someone tries to engage you, say you await a customer and nothing else. Do not talk to anyone, especially about us! When you see this boat again, step to the end of the pier over there – report whatever you may have observed, if anything, and you will receive a silver twenty-tragaetti piece!"
"Yes," Paranis said, "we will not be long, in fact. We are just going to drop off the containers and return. We don't want to attract attention, eh, isn't that right, Lord Magician?"
"Heaven forbid," was Joliel's remark.
"Tell no one, therefore!" Paranis advised; the sorcerer added, with a bit more vinegar: "I'll know if you've talked to anyone! So don't!" and Paranis then said agreeably "Do we have a deal, Efranoh? Who I am very glad to see, by the way – perhaps on my return we can share an ale, if you have time."
"Yes, Paranis," the man agreed quickly. "You'll find me right here!"
"I'm sure we won't be even a half-hour," Paranis said, then gave an order for the rowers to start circling back out of the eddy so they could continue on; with a clunking and rasping, and thumping and creaks, the craft began to wheel slowly about, nosing toward the deeper water. Raising his voice as they drew away, the boat-master concluded: "So just sit tight and don't go anywhere or talk to anyone; you can pretend you're asleep, eh? And when you see us come back you'll get a twenty-piece and we can have an ale or two! The moon will be well up, eh, by then and me and the guys, ah, here will easily be able to get back out into the open water without running into anyone!"
"Aye, Paranis," Efranoh said, continuing to express dread in the tone and volume of his speech.
If anyone else was hearing this exchange, there was no sign. The conversation in the nearby dwelling mostly regarded an outbreak of fever in the Satrian quarter of Viragos proper, and nothing changed about it. Naxosos heard nothing further from the man Efranoh and within a couple of minutes the craft had backed smoothly into the shoreline current, and they were heading into the Lower Haven.
Joliel and Paranis remained standing; everyone else except for the five crew remained crouched, and the warrior lying stretched out with a net covering him. The rowers rowed at a languid pace; one didn't want to go too fast in the Lower Haven or risk running up on an uncharted shoal or mud-bank.
And, of course – Naxosos considered, recalling experiences upon his stepfather's galleys – one always needed to keep a leisurely pace doing anything in any populated area: Speed, darting movements, or attempts at concealment always drew unwanted attention.
Once they were out of earshot and headed down-current, Naxosos dared to raise his head a bit and peek back at the wharf they had just left, and glimpsed the tall figure of Efranoh with his little gray donkey huddled by him in the torchlight. The man stood with his head hanging down and arms folded, as though deep in consideration of a disturbing new concept.
"What do you mean, Master Paranis," Joliel inquired in an annoyed tone, "volunteering so much of my money like that? I needed only to threaten him – and then, if I were to note that he had obeyed my directions, I might reward him. As soon as my silver is in his pocket, you know the first person he sees is going to hear the tale of how he got it! You disappoint me." (Naxosos could tell the sorcerer was treating Paranis more like an equal than almost anyone else he could name. It was a marvel.) "I was ready, in fact, to put a little scare into him, but you commandeered the situation, and –"
"Shut up, Joliel," Naemas muttered now.
"Everyone," Paranis matter-of-factly stated, seeming to ignore the archmage, "keep your, ah, heads down because, eh, because there are a lot of people on the water and on the Quay as we get into the Lower Haven, and it's all lit up – there are, ah, people, ah, all around us. Keep that in mind, lads. Try not to move much – people are watching from the height. We're not, eh, far from the Aliatrissa; once we pull in to the dock we'll be more hidden. Thank, eh, Fortune, most of this side of the shore is dark right now but we, ah, eh, have to move fast."
The boat-master addressed Joliel: "I apologize, Lord Magician." Then: "Let us be seated: You saw, eh, I trust, that our friend Efranoh and his little donkey were quite frightened of our, ah, eh, the Magus, eh, the Magus Reltras, heh, heh!"
Paranis – a wizened fisher, perhaps in his fifties, perhaps older, with a great grizzled mustache drawn to a point on each side of his mouth and the rest of his face clean-shaven, wearing a costly outfit including a hooded cape and hat all in leather of a rich, ruddy brown that almost exactly matched his skin – chuckled, then half-seated himself again on the lander's square prow and said, "And then we will continue speaking."
To Naxosos's startlement – and doubtless everyone else's, though no one moved or made any sort of sound – with a swish of robes, the sorcerer promptly seated himself on the bench beside Naxosos and even pressed up to him a bit.
Again Naxosos had to subdue his reaction; all the while, various odors of the shoreline and river never ceased to assail his senses.
Perhaps this is the sign! was his somewhat rancorous thought.
"Is the Lord Magician comfortable?" Paranis then inquired.
"He is," Joliel replied.
"All right," the boat-master said and smacked his lips. Naxosos, though he was unable to watch, could easily imagine the toothy grins being exchanged. (What a pair of knaves!) "Why does he believe I volunteered his silver, then?" This was uttered in the tone of a patient adult to an impudent child.
"He said," was the sorcerer's ready reply, "that he would give that lout a twenty-piece, when we came back. 'When you see us come back' I believe were his words! That implies his thought was that I would accompany the boat, so as to give his friend a twenty-tragaetti piece."
"Where else would such a coin come from?" Paranis said with a little laugh. "Do you think I carry that much money with me, and I'm driving a dragon-boat out into the Channel, with such a, eh, a great lummox on board that we'd never be able to out-row a patroller, then, eh?" (At this, Naxosos felt Two-Swords's chuckle shake their craft.)
"That he might anticipate an encounter with a patrol-boat suggests that he might be carrying more money than he'll admit."
"The Lord Magician volunteered money, not this one!" Paranis chuckled. "We assumed it was his twenty-piece that was being, ah, brought into the discussion." In a tone of mild sarcasm: "Perhaps this one is mistaken."
"You guys, stop it," Korsis muttered now and Naemas grumbled "I thought we were supposed to be quiet!"
"I will be returning with Paranis, after our business at the dock is finished," Joliel said, "to give Efranoh his silver-piece. All joking aside."
This was a bit stunning to hear, but Naxosos didn't have long to puzzle, for now Paranis spoke, saying in a low tone, "There is the Dock Aliatrissa, ahead and larboard. There are people who can see us, so stay down, you young fellows, ah, and they can hear us as well, so –"
"What about Joliel? Why does he get a pass?" Korsis griped. "Yeah, that Kheorani recognized him, that means –"
"I've been made!" the sorcerer bleated.
Paranis chortled at the same instant "He is the property owner! Eh!"
At this Joliel laughed. Paranis went on: "We need his instruction, because – as you young fellows will shortly, ah, see – the dock is very overgrown and, eh, ah, it's mud out into the bay. There aren't just, eh, willows: There are briers and lode-thorn. Other things."
"Don't worry about that," Joliel began, but Paranis cut him off, announcing to the rowers: "Lads, let's – when we get there, let's, eh, overshoot the dock, eh, ah, a little, eh, and then wheel in towards the shore. The net will warn us if we're pulling too much mud. I'm going to douse the light now." These words uttered in his typically breathless voice, the boat-master then turned the lamp down until its wick was an orange dot, and shielded it, and with care set it to one side.
For a couple of minutes no one talked and the creaking and clunking of oars and slow lap and slosh of water were the only appreciable sounds. (Naxosos looked every so often, though he mostly – at first – kept his head down and covered; it was stiflingly hot but there was more movement of air here and the smell wasn't so rancid.)
Past the mouth of the inlet, the eastern and western banks drew away from each other. The banks to the west, on the east-facing side of the Cape, were mostly dark: The only craft allowed to tie up at Noseruek Pier were militia, some vendors and merchants, and the Navy – mingled Kheorani and Celan boats only, though craft from more than ten countries berthed, and for the most part peaceably, within Viragos Haven.
The far end of the Lower Bay, a couple of miles off, was indistinct though not invisible. The eastern bank's whitewashed stonework outlined the shore – there was torchlight every few dozen yards, and here and there a bitumen flame.
Naxosos finally sat up a bit to try to get a better view of the surroundings. (The sorcerer gave him an amused look but said nothing; Paranis seemed not to notice.)
The night was not absolutely quiet, with a susurration of laughter and talk coming over the water, and somewhere, distant but very clear, a woman singing to the accompaniment of a sistrum. Soon they would be hearing the great Haven Gong that sounded several times daily, at the in- or outgoing of the tide.
Surf was barely present in this part of the Haven: the waves in the inlet were like those upon a shallow lake, and moreover that there was a great deal of algae and slime, mud, debris, animal carcasses and other offal along the banks in a number of places. The pong was eye-wateringly sharp and bad.
Houseboats were present in a multitude out on the Lower Bay, but none anywhere near this hazardous shore: The closest one was more than a hundred yards out. Pungent scents drifted toward them from these, as people burned odiferous materials to drive away the hordes of insects, and perhaps to mask the shore's stench.
The upcoming structures were glimpsed though murk and overgrowth: A long pier (currently on stilts in the mud) with three berths on each side, a landing with a great portico – having a fancy balustrade – and a white stair ascending the steep eastern bank, lay under an intense darkness that was almost alive, and there was the impression that this part of the shore might infect the unwary adventurer even if he just wanted to drift close enough to view it.
The calling of insects and other life, even, seemed to die out near the Dock Aliatrissa. Frogs peeped, trilled, and grunted along the shores, but as the lander floated past the whitewashed stair and retaining walls, and the portico with its dilapidated balustrade and fallen-in screens, these sounds drizzled away and a tense silence that like the darkness was somehow alive advanced slowly, malevolently, upon them.
The sky turned silvery as the moon rose, but the dark on the west-facing banks increased rather than decreased. Thick blackness swarmed; the shadows increased and the silence was ever more laced with omen.
The rowers had grown very quiet; one muttered a charm against evil spirits, at which the sorcerer Joliel, archmage of the Children of God, snickered rudely.
Following Paranis's order, the rowers carefully, quietly turned, floating into the eddy just to the far end of the dock and portico, into the even deeper darkness under willows so untended they were overhanging the water.
Korsis and Naemas were sitting up, too – he noticed – and both looking about; Naemas with a dour expression and Korsis with interest. The dancer noticed him glancing back and grinned impertinently. All reeked with sweat, though: Each, though long used to the heat and tolerant of the radiant city, was tense and jumpy.
The Main Mouth, great cliffs on one hand and the Cape with its Tower and Fort on the other, and the Lower Bay, scattered with grand, lantern-lit, slowly-drifting houseboats on the gleaming water, lay gloriously spread out all around them and Korsis actually exclaimed in what seemed to be astonished delight. No one made any sound beside that, but Paranis went "Sh!" anyway.
Naxosos observed uncomfortably that the Aliatrissa looked most deserted and that, given the expanse of mud around its dock and density of surrounding growth, any attempt at landing might involve unacceptable risk – especially if one desired to avoid notice.
15 December 2025 ☾☉ ♑
