Faestivul of Coming Cold – Dee Two of Five, 768 A.E.

  Nishan was like a breath of fresh air to Anthea. If he was dark and mysterious in the night, during the Dee he was a vibrant source of exuberance that her other companions often lacked, not that she liked them any less for the differences Nishan exhibited. They were just more withdrawn compared to Nishan’s liveliness. He also seemed to have an amusing anecdote about everything under the sun, and he kept her laughing like the others simply couldn’t or hadn’t yet shown the ability to do.

  He didn’t have Bedros’ protective presence, Rolf’s gruffness and fierce determination, Makan’s stoic wisdom, or Sagira’s worldly sister-like qualities, but he made up for it in humor and spontaneity. When he did something, it was because he wanted to. He didn’t pause to think if it was a good idea or what other people would think of him, he just acted. Because of this, Anthea always felt a bit out of stride, as if she were constantly reacting to him. It was a pleasant change from having to lead the charge, but at the same time it put her in a mild state of disequilibrium.

  Already that Dee, while working their way through the zigzagging streets of Rummas, Nishan had taken her in a carriage ride, detoured to find her what was likely the most delicious breakfast she’d had in Munths, and stopped to admire the collection of ships in the harbor. Yet for all his seeming randomness, there was a plan to it.

  At every location, he found people he knew, or people he could quickly befriend and milk for information in the most casual and unassuming ways. Half the time he did this without her even noticing. He’d just randomly mention some tidbit of rumor that he’d acquired as easily as one might stoop to pick up a particularly colorful pebble that had caught their eye as they’d walked past. He was gifted with words, and his tongue could be honeyed when the need suited him. Anthea suspected his tongue would cut sharply as well but had no opportunity to witness it.

  Perhaps there was also a bit of vanity in his roundabout path to reunite her with her friends. She’d seen the darker side of Rummas the night before – rapists and murderers even amidst a celebration of life and the bounties of the land and sea. He had shown her a more picturesque side of Rummas.

  He’d taken her past the Hill of a Thousand Eyes – a cliff on the northern side of the isle perforated with grottos sea birds made their homes in. The air had been alive with the silver and black tipped wings of birds diving for fish. He’d shown her the columned mansions of the wealthy that lived atop the hills surrounded by carefully tended olive groves and herds of goats that kept the grass on the hills cropped short.

  Then they’d visited the Aisle of Silk, named after the beautiful Rumani women who modeled all manners of custom-made clothing of the finest materials made by the most discerning seamstresses in all of the Broken Crown. She’d seen the flowing skirts and dresses of the Rumani women, some of which had been altered to favor foreign tastes. For the Elegians, there had been some dresses where the left breast was bare, in the fashion of the Goddess Juria and Elegian royalty. Aynglicans favored more form-fitting gowns, so there were corsets and scandalously sheer gowns to suit their needs. Kerathi and Mueran women didn’t dress in either way, but there were still dresses that showed elements of their cultures, be it the furs or leather used in some dresses that echoed Kerathi sentiments, or the Mueran-inspired gowns with hints of the sea in them – fabrics the colors of the sea or the sail-like sleeves that dangled nearly to the ground.

  Then there were the dresses inspired by the coming or past Saysuhn. Women crept around in high-necked dresses of silver, blue, and white matched with icy-colored makeup and lip color. In their very style of dress, they gave homage to Yenis and the Saysuhn of White. Other women wore layered dresses the colors of harvest and falling leaves. Fabrics of yellow, orange, brown, and red had been skillfully crafted into ways that resembled leaves, sometimes covering the curvaceous bodies of the wearers just enough for a bare minimum of modestly. Echoes of the past Saysuhn of Orange were plain for any to see.

  There, Nishan had bought her a scarf of the deepest violet color that Anthea had ever seen in cloth, made from a dye laboriously collected from seashells. Many of the Rumani women wore them to cover their hair, always tied in a three-cornered fashion. Even the men wore them sometimes, whether they tied them around their necks or around their upper arms seemed to make no difference. If the Aisle of Silk had taught her nothing else, it was that the Rumani loved color cloth and they made frequent use of it.

  Yet despite the delays and the sites she’d seen, Anthea never forgot about Makan, Sagira, Bedros, and even Rolf, who were out in Rummas without her and were likely searching for her. So when he suggested that they visit another place before going directly to the room they’d rented, she wasn’t all that willing.

  “Where exactly are we going next?” Anthea asked a bit testily.

  Nishan noted her tone and thought before replying. “Let me put it to you straight, since you’re not a fool.”

  “Please do.”

  Nishan slid in close to her where she leaned against a neatly pruned tree with her arms crossed. He slipped an arm around her waist and spoke softly with his mouth beside her ear, smiling as she flinched at his closeness. “I’ve learned that you and your friends are being hunted in the city, and I’m trying to have my friends determine if your room is being watched. After all, you are the one they’re most interested with and they may use your companions to bait you in.”

  Anthea’s eyes widened, for this was far more serious than the little tidbits and rumors he’d fed her before. “We need–” She started to say loudly, but Nishan pressed a finger to her lips, letting it fall away from her mouth a moment later.

  “Speak quietly, Anthea. Whisper it in my ear as if you were saying something romantic to me, responding to statements in that ilk from me. We need to keep low profile.”

  “We shouldn’t even be out on the streets then. We need to find my friends and hide.”

  “We must do both of those things, but the least likely place to find someone is out in the open in a crowd. Even though there are those who may look for you, they don’t know what you look like exactly. Nonetheless, I’d like you to tie up your hair and put on that scarf I bought you.”

  “But Makan will…”

  Nishan silenced her with a smile this time. “Anthea, I know this town and this island far better than most of the people who have lived here their entire lives. Do you think I cannot handle finding a few strangers?”

  “I will put my trust in you, then. Don’t make me regret doing so.” She said, tying up her hair in a quick pair of braids that she executed with practiced motions.

  “I will do my best, madam. You have my word on that.” Nishan promised.

  “I have a feeling that your word means much to some here, and less to others.” Anthea teased.

  Nishan feigned a hurt look, his brow furrowing in mock offense in a way that made his eyes look just shy of tears. “You cut me to the quick, dear one.”

  “Let us hope it’s not fatal then.” She replied with a wink, unfolding and pulling on the indigo scarf.

  As Nishan was about to reply, a Rumani man in wrinkled clothes strode up, tweaking his nose twice and looking side to side as he approached. Nishan relaxed after seeing the gesture, letting a tenseness that Anthea hadn’t noticed in him before flow out of his muscles with liquid grace.

  Nishan cast a brief glance at Anthea, holding up a single finger to indicate he’d be but a moment. Then he stepped over toward the man, who had positioned himself a few paces away, looking out over the wall that the tree Anthea stood in front of – one of many now-leafless alders planted along this elevated avenue – grew beside.

  The two spoke in low voices, a flurry of syllables that sounded completely alien to Anthea. She certainly couldn’t make out the muffled words with the wind and the passage of people and wagons, not to mention their deliberate quiet tones, but she knew enough from what little she did hear that it was not High or Low Elegian they spoke. The conversation was brief though, less than a Mynette from start to the point where the stranger walked off.

  Nishan winked at Anthea and beckoned her to follow him with the tilt of his head toward the way they had been going. Anthea sighed and hurried to match his long strides, linking her arm with his as they walked to further the illusion that they were just another of many couples out for a stroll.

  “What did he say?”

  “He’s located two of your friends. We have a street vendor by the name of Ince to thank for that.”

  “Two?”

  “The Mueran and the Elegian woman.”

  “Makan and Sagira, but not Bedros? I wonder why he’s not with them?” Anthea asked worriedly.

  “Think about what you’re asking. That will be your answer.” Nishan replied, but there was no condescension in his tone, only a request that she think for herself.

  Anthea nearly said something rather tart, but she did as he suggested and then felt rather foolish. “Oh,” was all she said in return.

  Nishan nodded. “He makes an easy target, yes?”

  “I suppose so.” Anthea admitted.

  “One of them is thinking. They were smart to leave him behind while they looked for you, unless their reasons were other than that. Until we meet them to find out for ourselves, we can only assume.”

  “We are going to meet them then?”

  “Yes. My friend told me their last location and the direction they were heading. With almost no doubts at all, we should be speaking to them in ten to fifteen Mynettes. Uman provides for the patient dreamers.” He touched his inner wrists together as he mentioned Uman.

  “Excellent.” Anthea said with a smile.

  “I am, aren’t I?” Nishan said, pretending to gloat.

  “Don’t gloat; it’s not becoming.”

  “It is, and you know it.” He joked, putting on his widest grin for her sake.

  She laughed at the exaggerated expression. “Never.”

  “Always.”

  “Maybe. Perhaps.”

  “I knew it.” He said smugly, taking her arm and leading her down from the hills filled with the homes of the rich into the more crowded streets of the merchant and working classes below.

  True to his word, it was almost exactly ten Mynettes later when they caught up to Sagira and Makan, though Anthea didn’t realize who they were as they passed. She had been too busy resting her sore feet as she sat on a porch stoop. In the press of the crowd, that grew with each Ouer as more of last night’s merrymakers awoke and went about their business, her feet had been stepped on at least a dozen times. Even as she tried to slip into the momentary openings in the crowd that Nishan somehow managed to find, she couldn’t avoid being walked upon.

  Something about Nishan made him slippery as a fish, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It wasn’t that he shouldered his way through a crowd or even that his presence caused them to give him way. Rather, it was that by nature, he swam through a gathering of people as its master. It did not restrain or resist him.

  It wasn’t something she would have noticed in passing, but after following the man for a few Ouers, she started to notice something a bit strange about how he dealt with people. Never was it more evident than when she tried to keep right behind him in a crowd, only to find him easily slipping away. Yet his perception of her location was quite acute. Never did he lose track of where she was, even during the few times they were separated far enough that she could not see him anymore. He would always be waiting for her just past the next group, an expectant smile on his face. At first it was surprising, but with each instance of such behavior it became more baffling and eventually even a bit aggravating.

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  Just as she was getting settled in, expecting Sagira and Makan to walk up and say hello, he slid off the stoop from beside her. Without explanation, he cut into the crowd and left her behind.

  “Nishan!” She cried, rushing after him, but he’d already penetrated too far into the mass of people for her to catch up.

  All about her, strange faces swirled: Mueran, Kerathi, Aynglican, and Elegian, but mostly Rumani. With each new face her eyes came across, part of her expected to see an Aurean face grinning back at her maliciously, but each time she was disappointed or relieved. Sometimes she wasn’t quite sure which.

  “There they are.” Nishan announced, appearing suddenly at her side and grasping her wrist.

  She was about to give him a tongue lashing for leaving her alone, but the prospect of seeing her friends after even such a short separation was enough to make her set that task aside for a later date when there were less important things to do. Yet before they could be reunited, Nishan pulled her out of the crowd and into a shaded gap between two buildings that looked to be closed shops of craftsmen who were likely taking a break from their work for the purpose of the Faestivul. His arm slid around her slight waist, and he pulled her into his arms as he stood with his back to the wall.

  “I don’t see them.” Anthea replied, looking the direction he had pointed out before and was still looking in a bored sort of disinterest.

  “They’re there, in the dirty hooded cloaks.” Nishan whispered to her, brushing his nose across her ear as he leaned in pretending to be drunk and necking with her.

  Anthea squirmed. She was not used to that sort of attention, but she wasn’t exactly finding it unpleasant either. “How do you know? I can’t see their faces.”

  A soft chuckle rumbled in his throat that tickled her ear. “I know because that’s what I was told they would be wearing and my sources are quite reliable.”

  “That Ince guy you mentioned?” She asked quietly, turning to catch his eyes briefly.

  “Yes. I’ve done business with him on a number of occasions, and he knows I’ll treat him fairly for such an important piece of information.”

  “What exactly is your business in Rummas then, if you have people like shopkeepers and vendors keeping an eye out for you?”

  “There’s a saying in Rummas, Anthea, that there is someone somewhere in Rummas willing to pay for every sentence uttered by another person on this island. My trade is information, and many of the things I’ve heard could be hazardous to my health if I didn’t handle them right or sell them to the right person.”

  “Is that how you knew so much about us already?” She asked.

  Nishan shrugged before he whispered his answer in her ear. “I had heard rumors, but prior to meeting you I had not investigated them in depth. After meeting you I had my people ask around to see what the word on the streets was.”

  “Why aren’t we meeting them yet?” Anthea demanded impatiently, interrupting him before he could explain further. Truthfully, she just wanted him to stop whispering in her ear like he was, because it made her pulse race and her thoughts grew thick. She couldn’t help but wonder how he kept managing to get her in his arms without her complaining.

  “Because I’m making sure, they were not followed, Anthea.”

  “Oh.” She said lamely, feeling foolish for not having thought of that herself. “Are they being followed then?”

  “No.” Nishan replied quickly.

  Abruptly, he detached himself from her and the wall as if he were a boat disembarking. Then he was off once more, darting into the crowd, but this time she caught his hand. He looked back briefly and grinned, pulling her through the crowd with such carefree ease that she felt foolish for ever having struggled with the simple task of walking through a thick group of people. In moments, she was standing face to face with a dumbfounded Makan and a surprised Sagira.

  “Are you a figment of Vorcinth’s dark humor, or is it really you?” Makan blurted out, and when she nodded, he shook his head. “Where have you been?”

  Anthea grinned to see the usually collected Mueran so flustered. “As my friend here is likely to say here any moment if I do not, I think we’d best find somewhere quieter to talk.”

  “I was actually going to suggest somewhere louder, where whispers can’t carry.” Nishan countered.

  “Like where?” Sagira asked Nishan with a frown, eyeing him with a mixture of interest and suspicion.

  “A little gambling house I know where the beer is cheap, the women are willing, and the money changes hands so fast that it makes an audible crinkle even amidst the shouts of the suddenly rich and suddenly poor.” Nishan replied poetically, grinning widely.

  “Sounds noisy,” Makan admitted, “but perfect for not being overheard.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Anthea announced, getting caught up in the excitement.

  As he had said, the gambling house was indeed full of noise. The clank of pewter tankards of ale the size of her head being thrown around filled the air. They were being emptied with a vigor that would make a Kerathi proud. It formed a staccato rhythm that seemed appropriate when mixed with the clack of betting counters and the rattle of dice and marbles.

  Betting tables were the location of constant shifts in people and noise levels. New spenders elbowed in, clearing out those who had lost too much to keep betting or won enough to go home happy. The former were much more numerous than the latter by a longshot, but the gambling bug was an infectious one, especially when mixed with liberal quantities of alcohol and beautiful women.

  Women were the great equalizer among the patrons. The depressed and poor loser could find solace in the arms of a curvaceous Rumani girl as easily as the scandalously rich could. Fortunes changed hands in a matter of Mynettes, and the girls were not only plentiful but also paid so well to keep the crowd pleased. They made enough that they didn’t have to reserve their affection and company for the rich men in the hope of escaping their lifestyle. No, these women were in it for life, which was basically as long as their looks lasted and sometimes a bit beyond that if their company or assets besides their faces were pleasant enough.

  Sagira, Makan, and Anthea alike had never seen a place quite like this. As many said most truthfully, the Rumani did have a monopoly on hedonism. Such waste was a foreign concept to the frugal and efficient Mueran, far too boldly displayed for an Elegian, since they preferred their pleasures kept hush-hush, and extremely alien to a half-Aurean girl who had never been of the inclination or the desire to see such a place even if they did exist in Cenalium – which was doubtful.

  Immediately upon entry, a swarm of as many as a dozen girls rotated past Nishan and them, exchanging hugs, kisses, and other unseemly gestures of affection. To Sagira’s surprise, as she was rather well-versed in the ways women treated each other with suspicion and territoriality, none of Nishan’s greeters so much as turned a sour look on his choice in company. Their greetings were warm and extended even to his odd companions.

  Despite his dirty poncho, Makan found himself awkwardly trying to fend off hugs and cheek kisses while not offending Nishan’s friends for being conservative. Sagira, too, was hugged no fewer than three times, as was Anthea, who must have looked like little more than a girl to these brazenly displayed beauties. If there was any mercy in the whole embarrassing string of hellos, it was that it the whole thing was over quickly. No sooner had it started than it ended. A woman with a bodice cut low and laced so tightly that her breasts seemed one deep inhalation from falling out led them to a corner booth with a heavy velour curtain the color of freshly drawn blood.

  “That color hides murder the best.” Nishan said dryly, only cracking a smile after seeing the appalled look on Anthea’s face, who had half-believed him up until the moment he smiled.

  “Enough already. I think you’ve already demonstrated your affluence. Now let’s get to talking.” Sagira announced critically.

  Nishan nodded and waved them into the booth ahead of him. Makan and Sagira slid in opposite Anthea and himself. Then he pulled the curtain closed, which effectively shooed away anyone who might fetch them drinks or who might have missed a chance to say hello to Nishan.

  “Why don’t we start with who you are?” Makan suggested.

  “His name is Nishan. He saved me from some unpleasant men yesterdee. He’s the last one the enchantment wanted me to find.” Anthea announced.

  “I’m Rumani, as you can see, and I hope that won’t be a problem. I know my kind aren’t always that well thought of. I would have you know that despite appearances, I can be of help to you, and I wish only well for Anthea.”

  “It’s not that we don’t want to trust you.” Makan assured him. “I’m sure we could use all the help we can get, but we’ve been hearing that a lot lately. Anthea is starting to gather a rather eclectic assortment of friends about herself, and while her choices thus far seem good, we are protective of her.”

  “I’m the most recent of the assortment, aside from you that is, so I don’t have as much time with her as Makan here. I too, have my reservations though.” Sagira added.

  Nishan nodded. “That’s understandable.”

  “I’m still sitting here. Don’t act like the adults and treat me like a child.” Anthea said angrily. “You forget that I’ve gotten us to this point, not unscathed, but we’re still all here.”

  “Isn’t your Kerathi friend missing though?” Nishan asked mischievously, earning a sharp look from her.

  “Anthea, as right as you are, you must also recall that we each have lives to live. We’re not wanting to mistrust you, but we just want to think some things through so that we each have the best chance at surviving what might come.” Sagira said, not wanting to be the one to disagree, but wanting even less to let something important go unsaid.

  Anthea sighed. “You’re right. I suppose I was being rather pushy. Yet it seems to me that if you’ve all agreed to come with me, and that if you are the ones chosen by the enchantment for reasons beyond all of us, then you should trust my judgment more. You’ve said it yourself that there are higher forces at work here. Would they lead us astray?”

  “The will of the Gods cannot be interpreted by people like us.” Makan replied. “Who is to say that they don’t plan for us all to be martyrs? I think we need to proceed with caution and use your enchantment as a guide while we go about their will. Yet we cannot forget to think. We must determine our end goal instead of plodding forward blindly.”

  “The end goal is Aetheline.” Anthea replied hastily, not even needing to think before answering.

  Makan sighed. “Is it? Would you need all of us just to get to Aetheline? What then? Do we all go home, and you live happily in that city? I don’t mean to be selfish, but if the Gods pulled us all together for some purpose as shallow as that, I’d be disappointed. As much as I may wish for you to find your peace and happiness, I fear it won’t be that easy.”

  Anthea rubbed her temples, trying to sort out her feelings from her instincts. “Perhaps you’re right.” She admitted.

  Nishan nodded. “He speaks with wisdom, Anthea. I feel the truth in his words.”

  “As do I.” Sagira agreed.

  “Then the question, at least for now, is what do we do at this point?” Anthea wondered aloud. “Nishan says that the Peacekeepers and others are seeking our capture. I am their main target though.”

  “If I may?” Nishan asked.

  “Have at it.” Sagira encouraged him with a wave of her hand.

  “I am having men try to mislead the Peacekeepers with false rumors about your whereabouts even as we sit here and talk. Hopefully I can steer them away from the area of the city you’re in. However, we need to get you all onto a ship as soon as possible. The bad news right now is that due to the Faestivul, you won’t be able to get out of here on a ship heading toward Aetheline, by way of Zaraig likely, until the first of Frost at the earliest.”

  “That’s not good if they’re already seeking us out.” Makan pointed out. “This is only the second Dee of five Faestivul Dees.”

  Nishan nodded. “You’re right. It’s not good. However, we can hide you on a ship slated to leave the first of Frost if I can manage to bribe a captain, or we can hide you on one ship and then move you into another on the first before anyone has a chance to stop us.”

  “I might be able to hide us with an enchantment.” Anthea offered.

  “That may very well be necessary.” Nishan said, scratching thoughtfully at his chin. He couldn’t help but wonder what all Anthea could do with her enchantments.

  “Could you hold onto an enchantment for three or four Dees though?” Makan asked.

  Sagira answered for her, finding words when they would not come to Anthea. “Necessity makes us all do things we might not think we could do until the need arises.”

  Nishan and Makan looked at the Elegian woman, wondering what she was thinking that would bring such foreboding words to light. They could not know the emotions triggered by memories of Zaraig, a place it seemed she was destined to revisit, and with it the graves of the men whose lives she could not save any more than she could save her career.

  “As she says. I will do what I must.” Anthea promised.

  “For now, you must lay low and avoid the Peacekeepers while I do what I can.” Nishan said. “I have a room ready for the three of you. I will search for your Kerathi friend, and I will have my men keep an eye on the room your Ox-Man friend is staying in.”

  “Why can’t we get him moved to this room you have for us?” Sagira asked. “It would be best to have us all together.”

  “Yes, it would. And were he not three Mayters tall, I’d be all for it. I’m already going to have to rig up some sort of wagon that he can hide in when we move you all onto the boat though. Would you have me risk moving him twice?” Nishan asked.

  Sagira frowned. “No, you are right. I wasn’t thinking. Still, it is not the best situation we could hope for.”

  “He will be fine, I think.” Anthea said. “I will have to send him a missive, explaining where I am and that I am alright. He will be quite upset otherwise.”

  “He was sleeping when we left, healing.” Makan informed her. “We hadn’t that luxury, as we needed to search for you.”

  “He is hurt?” Anthea asked worriedly. “I noticed your limp, but I did not know you and he were seriously injured. What happened?”

  Makan sighed. “We all took a beating in that riot the other night your friend Nishan has likely told you about if you have not heard mention from any number of people already this morning. He will survive, as will we all.”

  “I have not been about that, but that is a story I must hear for myself when we have the chance. Right now, I would rather get to that safehouse and write a message for Bedros. You can take it to him, can’t you?” Anthea asked Nishan, though it was closer to a demand than a request.

  “I can get him a letter. Your Ox-Man can read then, I take it?” Nishan asked, just now realizing fully what she meant to do. When she nodded, he grinned and said, “Fascinating.”

  “Anthea picks interesting friends, or at least the enchantment does for her.” Makan remarked.

  “Then I am in? You will trust me to aid you in your escape from Rummas and beyond that?” Nishan asked.

  “I will trust you but make sure before you leave your cozy little home and your flocks of women here that you know what you get yourself into…” Sagira warned him, pausing to recall his name. “Nishan, wasn’t it? The people who seek Anthea may not make our trail easy. I have heard only stories from what befell them before they met me, but what they have said did not sound pleasant. If they’re willing to search this far from Maethlin for her, there’s no telling what they’re capable of.”

  “My heart and mind tell me that my destiny lies with Anthea. I feel that I was born for this, whatever ‘this’ might be.” Nishan replied passionately.

  “Welcome to the family then, Nishan.” Makan said with a slight chuckle.

  Anthea nodded approval to the Mueran and then the Elegian woman, each of which had accepted her decision in their own way. Bedros would be all right with it, she was sure of that, but Rolf was another matter. He seemed to hate what the Rumani stood for almost as much as he hated the Aynglicans.

  “Oh. I don’t have my flowers!” Anthea shouted in alarm, just now realizing that she’d left them with Bedros. “They’re in our room.”

  The three of them all looked at her, surprised at such a loud outburst from the normally soft-spoken girl. While they might have been worried that her words had carried beyond the heavy curtain, the roar of noise in the background was enough that even the loudest cries were lost in the chaos.

  “I’ll have them brought to you when the letter is dropped off, then.” Nishan suggested helpfully.

  “Okay. Sorry.” She said sheepishly, her cheeks coloring a bit in embarrassment. “I’ve just not ever been without them like this. I feel very separated suddenly.”

  “Then you’d best get to writing that letter, so I can have them retrieved quickly. Uman doesn’t wait forever” Nishan advised, touching his wrists together.

  “Lead on to your safehouse then, Nishan.” Anthea said, standing and ready to go. “The quicker we’re there the quicker I can get to writing it.”

  The others followed her example, standing in suit as they prepared to follow Nishan beyond the velour curtain and back into a city that was filled with people who might be seeking them out.