Enlightenment

CHAPTER FOUR

Prin and Sara strolled down the cobblestone streets to reach the enormous amount of activities required to unload and load cargo ships. The military man with the bare sword had followed behind them, always keep pace as he watched their every move. He no longer bothered to hide or pretend otherwise. For any looking their way, they might think he escorted them, and from his aggressive stance with the few who wandered too close, he permitted no interference.

Prin and Sara had nervously walked beside each other after leaving the bazaar, along paved city roads between shops selling goods and services until reaching the docks. He never tried to speak to them, and he didn’t seem threatening—but for the sword at his side. He just maintained the same pace and bland expression.

Prin tried to keep him in the corner of her eye. Is he after me? An assassin?

Sara carried the backpack, her bow and quiver strapped to it, not unlike many other travelers. Prin carried her satchel, the thick leather straps wrapped around her wrist to both protect it from being snatched and as a warning to thieves, thanks to the apple family.

Prin glanced at Sara and reacted again to the sight of her as a stranger. Instead of the usual green pants and tunic, with a flowing mane of black trellises, Sara had been transformed. She now wore the tan colored dress, the boots that covered her ankles, and the hat with the point on top that gave her a different appearance. Added to that, her head was bald. She looked far different than when they had crossed the mountains a day earlier.

For anyone searching for the young woman who crossed the mountain pass with Hannah, or Prin as she now called herself, they would never suspect the woman walking at her side was the same. If they had a description, that worked to Sara’s benefit.

Stealing another glance, Prin confirmed her thoughts and added to them. If Sara appeared a stranger from another land, so must she. Assuming she had changed in appearance as much as Sara, Prin found encouragement that she might not be recognized. Then she remembered the man with the bare sword standing ten paces from them. She turned. He still followed them, always keeping his distance.

Sara steered them to a billboard plastered in old and new fliers that were marginally protected from the rain by a little roof. Sara paused to read the sign at the top, then moved closer to read the smaller handbills posted on it.

Prin stood back several wary paces, keeping watch on all who came close, especially the one with the bare sword, while she mentally practiced her reading by working out the letters on the top of the sign. The S was easy, and so were the H and I. The next letter could be a B or P, but then she eliminated the B as she realized where they were standing. She looked out over the port and the activity that reminded her of an anthill. SHIPS. Those were the letters at the top, and she had read the word for herself, but the second word made no sense to her. Still, it was a start.

Sara reached out and tore one paper notice from the wall. “This is the one we want.”

“Now what?”

Sara folded the paper and slipped it into her backpack. “Look around, Prin. Sailors, dock workers, and foreign travelers move about their business everywhere, all looking different and acting strangely. Many of them are big and strong men, cargo handlers. What do you think will happen if one of us screams for help because a man is attacking us?”

“They’ll come running. Probably a lot of them,” Prin said, confused at Sara’s comments.

“I think so too. So, why don’t we go start a fight? You get ready to scream loud enough to churn cream into butter. I’ll do the fighting.” Sara spun around and marched, not walked, directly at the man in the uniform who was lounging near a signpost not even bothering to pretend he ignored them.

She stomped the hard heels of her new boots on the wooden deck to draw his attention as she approached, each strike of her heels a warning. She pulled to a stop a single step away, fists balled on her hips. She said, “Why are you following us? And don’t even try to say otherwise.”

He didn’t change his posture or act upset. Then he slowly stood straighter and squared his shoulders. His voice came soft and educated. “Good morning stranger. I am a servant of the Order of the Iron Ring, a ring for which there is no beginning and no end.”

Sara backed off a step. “What does all that mean?”

“I noticed you are new to Indore, and my order of service wishes that you come to no harm while in our city.”

“You’re protecting us? Or following us? Which is it?”

“I am watching over you. Without obligation. We provide our services without a fee, but some wish to reward us. You see, Indore can be a dangerous city, and we are pledged to help strangers safely navigate their way within it.”

Prin couldn’t hold back, “That’s why you’ve been watching us.”

Sara said, “You look more like a soldier.”

“I am a fighter for the rights of those who cannot protect themselves, so yes, I am a soldier of a sort.”

He hadn’t changed expression, the tone of his voice, or stance, other than to turn to look at them with bland eyes when speaking. Prin glanced at the bare blade and said, “Scabbards are made for a reason, you know. Ever cut somebody or something by accident with your sword?”

Finally, he smiled. “Yes, when I was younger and less careful.”

“Then, why wear it like that?” she persisted.

He took a step back and placed his right hand on the hilt of the sword. With the unique sharp twang of iron scraping iron, he pulled the sword and then held it across both palms as he offered it to Prin to observe. He said, “The twin edges of my sword scrape against the inside of the iron ring each time I pull or replace it, keeping the edges sharp for your service.”

She dutifully touched the edge with her thumb and nodded in appreciation. “That’s a good trick. I wonder if I could have a scabbard made for my knives to do the same?”

“You wear a blade?”

After a slight hesitation, Prin reached behind her neck and pulled the throwing knife. He nodded appreciatively. She reached under her skirt and removed the smaller blade and extended it. He reached for that one also and turned the thin blade over on his palm while examining it. Then he handed both back, handles first.

“What do you think?” Prin asked, ignoring the warning look from Sara.

He said, “Utilitarian. And both well-made. What is the enchantment on the small one you wear on your leg?”

His tone had remained flat, but the warning from Sara slowed her response. Prin asked, “Does it matter?”

“Not officially. I was just wondering.”

“So, I’m not in any trouble because of it?”

“I am here to help, nothing else and I’m sorry if I was too inquisitive.”

Prin said, “In that case, I don’t know what the enchantment is. I didn’t even know it had one.”

He almost smiled, but managed to avoid it. “Most people would not see the dark enchantment. I have received training to perceive such things, and I sense there is much more than the odd knife about the pair of you. Beware, I am not the only one trained in sensing such things.”

Sara said, “What do you sense about me?”

He just nodded in her direction and said, “A sorceress should always be wary in a strange land.”

“Did that have anything to do with you following us?” Sara asked, not bothering to ask how he knew she was a sorceress. He obviously had the powers of a mage, or at least, some of them.

“I am sworn to protect all travelers, not just those blessed with abilities. It made no difference.”

Sara stepped closer. She looked him in the eye and said, “A fool can try teaching a man to be a mage for a hundred years, but if the man does not have the ability born to him, it will be a waste of a hundred years. What are you?”

He squirmed a little under her words, but said, “Some believe that we of the Iron Ring have some mage within us. I cannot say for sure.”

Sara relaxed, accepting his response as truth. “I’ve reconsidered. There is a way for you to help us.”

He only nodded for her to continue.

“We are new to Indore, as you know. We are looking for a place to rent, or to buy if the price is right. Our father is a spice merchant. At home, he stored his spices for on the ground floor, and we lived in a small apartment above. We are looking for such a place.”

He paused. Then, almost smiled again. “There are such places. Are you concerned with fashion in the building?”

“No,” Prin said without thinking.

Sara corrected her, “But we want a part of the city where we might step out at night without fear.”

He looked at Prin. “Like your knives, you wish utilitarian but well made. Yes, there are such places.” He pointed away from the ships to a part of the city they had not yet explored. “There is a steeple taller than the other roofs. See it?”

Both Prin and Sara nodded, looking across the rooftops to where the city was built on the long slope of a hill. The buildings in sight were one or two stories tall, mostly made of brick, the bricks probably made of river mud, with roofs that didn’t slant as much as those higher in the mountains. Prin appreciated the simplicity of the construction. But standing high above was a thin steeple or watchtower.

Sara said, “Who would we speak with?”

“There is a man near that steeple, located on this side of it. He buys, sells, and rents buildings, especially ones in that area. His name in Chalmers. I wish I could tell you he is fair in his dealings, but you must haggle to reach a good price.”

Prin said, “If I wanted to donate to your order, how would I do that?”

“Any of the Order of The Iron Ring are authorized to accept donations and convey them to our coffers.”

Prin slipped a coin into his hand. He didn’t look to see the denomination or color of the metal before placing it in a pocket with a flap and button.

“And if we find we need your services again?” Sara asked.

“Donations are made with your name attached. Any of my order will respond to requests from those who support us. They will know you anywhere in the city.”

Prin said, “Would you consider walking up to the steeple and showing us where to find Chalmers?”

“That would be my privilege.”

As they started walking, Sara whispered, “I would have never thought to ask if we could pay him, or if he could show us the way.”

“That’s because I’m only thirteen and don’t know what to ask and what not,” she laughed. “I just don’t know all the rules yet.”

The man hadn’t given them a name, and they didn’t believe he would. He was part of an order, a tiny portion of a whole. He pointed out a few small places of interest as they walked, a shop for meat, a reasonably priced seamstress, and the maker of soap and candles. They passed by two other members of his order, both with long, bare swords resting in iron rings on their belts. He made a hand motion and explained it would tell them Prin and Sara were benefactors of their order and under their protection. Prin had no doubt the men would remember, and spread the word.

The situation of hiding from her pursuers from the kingdom of Wren again came to mind. She wondered at the reception they would receive when asking the Order of The Iron Ring about her. She suspected it would be cold, and nothing would be shared. The order might even warn her. But she might be wrong.

Still, it almost seemed as if she had hired friends to protect her. If nothing else, the thieves, pickpockets, and muggers wouldn’t come around when one of the order escorted her on the streets. Perhaps the word would spread around Indore that they were protected. It seemed she had made a valuable ally.

Eventually, the three reached a nondescript building near the steeple they used as a navigation beacon. Prin expected that it would soon become a landmark for finding their way around the city. The man pointed to a doorway, then quietly slipped out of sight down an alley without a word, and disappeared.

Prin said, “Back down by the port, I read the sign by myself. It started and ended with S, and in between were H, I, and P. Ships.”

Sara flashed a brilliant smile. “Exactly right. The first word was ‘ships,' and the next word was ‘movements.’ The billboard had information about the ships that arrive and depart, their cargo, needs for sailors, and the ports they travel to.”

“You took a paper.”

“It tells of a ship that departed three days ago, named the Julianna. It says the ships returns here one time a year, and it travels to far off ports where few other ships sail to, in case you wish to ship something with it. It won’t return for a full year. If anyone wants to check our story, they’ll have to wait. Why don’t you choose a name for the place where we came from?”

“Any name?”

“Make it pretty. Exotic. Like a place with lots of islands.”

Prin said, “How about a beautiful place called Evelyn?”

Sara said, “That is perfect. A tribute to the sorceress who helped us escape.”

“And who we will one day see again and reward,” Prin added. “But now we need to find a place to live.”

They had crossed the street while speaking and were standing in front of the door that had been pointed out to them. They were still talking when it opened, and a rotund man with a wild head of curly hair and more savage looking mustache said, “Don’t just stand out there. Come inside and rent a place to live from me.”

“How did you know what we want?” Sara asked, not moving an inch.

“Perhaps your strange manner of dress, your hesitation to enter, and good luck with my guess,” he said with a warm smile. “And maybe I overheard a few words through the open window.”

Prin muttered, “Not much luck to it, if you ask me.”

But he led the way inside and stood aside with a sweeping motion of his arm. She found a small, but comfortable room with seating on three walls and a huge table dominating the center, covered in layers of papers, parchments, and manuscripts. Quills and ink bottles were spread around the table for convenience. At the far end of the table sat a rocking chair with a view of the front steps and the street outside through the window that was partially open. A soft breeze filled the room, as well as a murmur of sound from outside.

He must have watched and listened for a while before going to the door. Prin said, “You must be Chalmers.”

He shook her hand formally as if she was an adult, then motioned to a chair as he reached for Sara’s hand. “And you must have spoken to someone about me. A protector?”

Sara sat next to Prin. “We did. Our father has need of space.”

“Should I wait to meet with him?” Chalmers asked, not offended, but eager to talk as are all dealing with sales and rentals.

“We will do the initial investigation, if we buy or not. I’d like to tell you what he has in Evelyn because we’re looking for something similar,” Sara said.

Chalmers hesitated. “I’m not familiar with that city.”

“Across the sea and then a trip of several days by horseback. But no matter, he is a spice merchant and has need of both a place to live and a warehouse.” Sara sat back and waited.

“So, I have the opportunity for two transactions, today. Very nice. Detail his needs, and I’ll try to find what might fit his requirements.”

Sara said, “I fear I misled you. At home, he has a small warehouse about fifty paces long, and above it is the living quarters. It should be a secure building in a part of the city where others keep valuables, so there are protection and safety for his goods.”

“So, your father’s salt is not pilfered?” Chalmers smirked.

Sara turned slowly to face him as a lion might do before springing onto an antelope. “Sir, are you aware that there are spices worth more than their equal weight in silver? Or that a few spices sell for as much as the same weight of gold, and then there are the very rare spices worth even more. Dealing in those spices is costly. By the time they are located, harvested, processed, and shipped across oceans the expenses soar, as do the prices.”

Chalmers’ face paled.

Prin said smugly, “There you go telling people to rob us again, Sara. Just let him think there’s salt in the warehouse, and we won’t have to hire as many guards.”

“Fifty paces long, you said? And secure?”

“With living quarters. My father likes to sleep where his wealth is,” Sara said after glaring at Prin as if she was angry at her.

“In a beautiful area of town,” Prin added.

“Rent or buy?”

“Yes,” Prin said before Sara could answer. “We will consider either if the deal is right, but of course, we’ll have to find what we want at a bargain price, or we have to run it past our father.”

“I don’t have exactly what you’re looking for, but if you’re up to a little renovation, there is a building that might fill your needs. There is another also, and they are close to each other.”

They agreed to look, and they followed the portly man out onto the street in the direction of the steeple again. Prin noted the difference in the dress and manner of the people they passed on the streets, from those nearer the waterfront. More of the people on the street wore clothing to display their wealth, and the paving stones were swept clean by others, and servants rushed about performing their master’s tasks. Trees lined both sides of the streets, so the people didn’t have to walk in the harsh sun, and she had no doubt that in winter the leaves would fall off and allow the weak sun to warm them.

However, the buildings didn’t impress her. She saw no decoration, no ornate doors, and nothing to tell one building from another. The stone walls climbed the heights of two stories, but the lower part of the walls had no windows.

Chalmers noticed Sara’s interest. He said, “I’m not sure what you’re used to in Evelyn, but here in Indore, our wealth and status is displayed inside our homes and buildings.”

“Then how do I know one from another?” Sara asked.

“How does a thief? He might enter a poor house instead of wealthy, but will not know until inside. Of course, these streets, and the people on them do tell of wealth, so all is not hidden.”

“We are not looking for a wealthy neighborhood,” Prin said.

He reached a nondescript building and held the door open for them to enter. Outside it appeared like most other buildings in the area, but inside was an entry of exotic, contrasting woods, walls of sandalwood, and ceilings of carved plaster. The place reeked of expensive scents. The furniture, carvings, statues, and paintings in sight were worth more than an entire village in Wren.

Sara said, “My father is a businessman. He is not interested in impressing visitors.”

Chalmers was not put off in the least. He pulled the door closed behind them and waved an arm in the direction he wanted to go. They walked in silence, for two blocks. He paused at a solid oak door and used a key on a rusted lock the size of his palm. “I think you might like this.” He threw the door open, and light flooded the inside.

The floor was a pale gray stone, the room was long and narrow, only five or six paces wide, but over fifty long, Prin guessed. The ceiling was open to the blackened beams of the two-story roof. It had the musty smell of a building not in use over time, as well as the faint scent of smoke. A few pigeons circled high up, and a hole in the roof told where they had entered.

Another door stood at the far end, a sturdy double door that opened the full width of the room. Sara said, “No living quarters?”

“None, but the building is as secure as a bank. It was recently used to store carriages, and at this end, a second story once stood. Unfortunately, it burned several years ago, but the stone walls were not harmed, the roof is solid, and most of the smell of the fire has dissipated.”

“You will rent or sell it?” Sara asked.

“I prefer to rent. You provide whatever improvements you wish, and when you leave, I own a more expensive building. We both win.”

“Do you have others?” Prin asked, rolling her eyes.

“Not as large, nor where the city patrols as heavily, both night and day, but yes.”

Sara said, “The roof leaks and must be repaired, I see no well, and we would have to build the improvements and then abandon them for a loss. Perhaps you should pay us to move here instead of us paying you?”

Prin liked the change in Sara’s attitude. She’d taken the warning from the soldier and now used it. Chalmers told her a price for renting the space—an opening gambit.

Sara said, “That is more than I would pay a year for this hollow building.” But she was dealing with a professional, and she probably knew he would counter.

He said, “Unless you wish a much smaller space, this is it, and you've already heard my best deal. I believe another merchant is hoping to rent it, but I’m a fair man and will rent to the first with a deposit. Nonrefundable, of course.”

Sara turned to Prin. “I like the other building we saw this morning, and we can buy it at a fair price, far cheaper than renting from this scoundrel who is trying to rob two girls new to his city.”

Prin knew the game, too. She said as if considering two options, “The noise from the harbor was louder in that one, but I agree. It is a better bargain, and we would own it.”

“The walls are thicker, too,” Sara said. “You wouldn’t hear anything of the harbor noise inside them. Wait here a moment, I need to check something.”

Chalmers said, “Another building? What other building?”

Prin shrugged and watched the pigeons circling while keeping an eye on Sara. She stood just outside the door and rummaged into her backpack until she pulled the sheet of paper she’d stolen from the billboard. She unfolded it, studied it as if there was something important and private written on it, then returned to them, stuffing the paper back inside as she walked.

“Come Prin,” she said. Then she reached out to shake Chalmers’s hand in farewell. “Thank you for taking the time to show this to us this . . . sad excuse for a building. Perhaps another time we can strike a deal.”

“Wait, you mentioned you might be willing to purchase. What are you prepared to pay?”

“For this?” Sara smirked, and her eyes went to the hole in the roof and the blackened beams.

Chalmers said in a smooth, oily tone, “You have to admit it has potential, and if you use your imagination, it fulfills all your requirements.”

“The price?” Sara asked.

He told her, and Sara reached out and took Prin’s hand and again started for the door.

Chalmers held up his hand. “Wait. I’m sorry, I misstated the price, thinking this was another property. With the problems with the roof and all, well, what do you say we cut the price in half? By the way, there is a good well out back, satisfying one of your concerns, and also a small private garden.”

Prin had already calculated that the price was less than one of the two large gold coins she had in her purse. Now it was less than half that coin, and she had another just like it, and several smaller gold ones. For the other half of the coin, they could hire workmen to rebuild the loft area and still have enough left to live on for more than a year without touching the other coins.

“We’ll take it,” Prin heard herself say. “Can you draw up the papers and escort us to a bank?”

Chalmers suddenly broke into a smile. “Where do you have an account?”

“Nowhere, but I need a bank to change this into smaller coins so we can pay you.” She held one of the large coins up.

His expression froze. “Leaping Lords and Dancing Goddesses, where did you get that?”

“From my father this morning. His spice, or should I say salt business has been doing well in Indore. He said for us to find a place and buy it because he is far too busy buying and selling more salt.”

Chalmers turned to Sara after the younger girl’s comments. She said mildly, “A little girl like her needs to do family chores to learn the spice business. That way, she can strike a deal when she is older and negotiate with buyers and sellers. At least, that’s what our father says. Can we go to the bank, now?”

“I have a feeling your sister will someday own Indore.”