Chapter Twenty-One: Barlena at Last
In which Ian and Melik arrive in Barlena, and Ian glimpses a familiar face in the crowd.
The days from the little coast town of Heva to the Esparan capitol of Barlena were a blur of taverns, inns, and dry, dusty roads. Connor was right about Melik. As long as Ian kept paying for drink and women, the freelance kept moving forward at a quick pace.
Esparan taverns were like none Ian had ever seen. Most of the taverns they stopped in were staffed by dark women in sheer veils and gauzy skirts. The women were as like to do veil dances as to serve food and drink, but the dances weren’t always invitation. Sometimes, they just liked to dance. Pipers played under the noise of the clientele, and street performers often visited the taverns just to demonstrate their talents for snake handling or fire throwing.
All of the Esparan people wore heavy perfumes, even the poorest of them, and in streets and houses alike, people jostled and bumped each other without ceasing. “Watch your purse,” Melik said each time they stopped to eat, drink, or sleep.
Ian always did. The only person taking advantage of my purse is you, he thought. He wearied of being surrounded by people all the time and longed for the roll of a ship under his feet. He tired of the heat and wished for breezy ocean air. I was made for the sea.
Ian and Melik approached Barlena from the inland route. The city sat on the west side of a wide peninsula. On the sea side of the city, the thriving port brought merchants from all over the world, while through the center of the city, the River Tabo wound in snaking curves. The city was built across five hills with the palace and temple of the old gods on the highest hill.
Melik led Ian up the palace hill and stopped just short of the gates. He gestured to a villa. “The Golden Olive. Most of the best merchants stay here,” he told Ian when he dismounted. “Perhaps you’ll find your friend?”
Ian dismounted as well. “Perhaps.”
The freelance put a dark hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Why so dour, Ethan?”
“I fear my friend may not have arrived—or that he may have trouble here in the city.”
Melik chuckled. “Merchant worries. You need a woman.”
Ian shook his head. “I just need to find my friend.”
Comprehension dawned on Melik’s face. “Ah—your friend. You have a very close relationship? Is that why you’ve not indulged in a woman since we left Heva?”
Ian’s face warmed, and he cleared his throat. “Must everything be about women with you? I just keep my breeches laced.”
“You have a wife? A woman at home?”
“No.” Ian handed the reins of his horse to a stableboy. “It’s not all about women, Melik. I have a job that I like and I’m good at, and I’ve never wanted the distraction of a woman. Any woman,” he said when Melik opened his mouth. “Even tavern girls are a distraction.”
Melik inclined his head. “Very well. Come. You still have to eat.”
Ian followed Melik through the doors and sat down in the common room. A girl wearing a rainbow of sheer veils brought chilled wine and fruit. When she moved, the veils shifted enough that Ian had to look away. This place will be the death of me.
Melik had no such reservations about ogling the serving girl. He offered her a coin, and she ducked her eyes and removed one of the veils from her waist. She draped it around his neck and left the table. He lifted it to his mouth. “I love this city,” he said.
“I’m not paying for her to remove all those veils.”
“This time, I will pay.”
Ian hid the roll of his eyes behind his goblet. I suspect Connor would not have been so lecherous. And if he had been, he would have stopped if it bothered me. He sipped his wine. “I need to get into the palace,” he told Melik when he lowered the drink. “Tomorrow. Can you do that?”
Melik inclined his head. He picked up a pomegranate and started to pull it apart. “You’ll need to see the clerks first. We’ll find out who the emperor’s wool buyer is, and you can make an appointment.”
Ian twisted his mouth. “What if I need to see d’Tarjian?” he asked after a moment.
Melik set down the fruit and leaned forward. His brown eyes lost all mirth. “What would an innocent Eiryan wool merchant want with a dangerous man like d’Tarjian?”
Ian drank again. Careful. “I have business with the treasury. The government owes my business money.”
Melik tilted his head to one side. “I didn’t know we’d be dealing with such dangerous people,” he said. “This may require some additional funds.”
Ian stifled a grimace. “An extra ten crowns.”
“Twenty.”
“Done.” Ian finished his wine. “You’ll have to wait till tomorrow, though. I need to go to the bank.”
“Of course.” He stood. “Come. We can eat later. We should go find out what the docket is like in the palace tomorrow if we’re going to try to see d’Tarjian.”
They paid for two rooms and assured the innkeeper they’d be back later, and then Melik led Ian into the streets. Dusk had fallen over the hill, and the pale marble of the palace sparkled in the waning light. “We should hurry,” Melik said. He started to walk up the hill.
Ian fell in step behind him, but as they walked around the Golden Olive, he caught sight of a familiar blond head, and he stopped. “Seamus Clennan,” he shouted.
The boy looked up, paled, and darted into an alley.
Ian swore. If I make it back to Eirya, I swear—I’m not leaving the Citadel for six months.
He set out at a run after Seamus.