Lapping waves rocked the boat as Carrak held the starboard rail against a dock. The muscular guard had no trouble keeping them in position while Devran helped secure a tether to a hook on the dock. Aralim had developed sea-legs forty years ago, as a boy scampering around on rafts and galleys alike. He planted the base of his lantern staff on one of the three steps attached to the wharf and easily stepped off the rowboat.
The Aura followed him, while Dullah remained lounging on the rivercraft. “Don’t be long,” she called after him.
Carrak and Yovin formed up behind Aralim and Devran. The dock reached into the Ake’ma alongside two others, crowded with workers and swollen wooden crates, untouched by the shadows of the short buildings on the banks of the river. Aralim and his friends strode into the river town of Argerra, nearly two thirds between Rema and Maykren. There were nearly twenty buildings in Argerra, so it was more of a village. Aralim noticed that the largest structure in town was the inn—the wooden shacks and shambling palisade defences of Argerra were only that of a halfway house, a stop on the way.
Aralim had one goal here, to purchase supplies. He scratched his scruffy cheek and flicked a mosquito away from his nose, as they walked along the town’s main street market.
“Is Rema the furthest you’ve ever been from home?” Devran asked, walking at his side. The Aura paced silently behind them, with two guards behind that.
Aralim smiled. “It is,” he said. “I’m not actually sure what lies further north, to be honest. I’m certain you’re well-travelled as an author?”
“Mostly just the desert lies to the north, though some mountain tribes speak of forests to the northwest,” Devran explained. “I’ve not travelled there, but I have to many places along the Stormy Sea and the Grey Sea. I’ve always focused my journeys on Numa’nakres, however.”
“Is that to keep the stories relevant to the people of Numa’nakres? Or are you not interested in traveling farther?” Aralim asked.
Devran shrugged. “I’m interested in his Ascendance, before anything else.”
“That’s what brought me to Rema. The Emperor has a lot to teach. This is my way of giving back in a way.”
The writer smiled at the Walker’s words, but spent a few moments in thought. Aralim chose out a loaf of bread from a baker’s stall and paid the man a coin from his small pouch. After a moment, Devran said, “I was worried when I heard the Heretic was part of this venture, but now I think you’ll make an excellent ambassador regardless.”
“Thank you,” Aralim said, pausing. “And I wouldn’t worry about Dullah. The fact that she’s here means she believes in something. She just hasn’t realized that yet.”
They continued walking, and purchased some fresh fruits. Devran accepted a pecan offered to him by a mud-clad young boy, and cracked it open off the wooden table of another vendor. “How long have you known Miresh? She seems very important to you, and is a remarkable young girl.”
“Just under two years,” Aralim replied. Watching the group of children continue on their way, scampering between the legs of travellers and townsfolk. “I was making a pilgrimage to the Orrish and she insisted on joining me. She’s a fine walker of the Path. I wouldn’t have gone to Rema without her.”
A man was walking toward them, but wouldn’t move out of the way for Aralim and his followers. The man’s beige-sleeved arms parted from their cross and a knife slid out of his sleeve. As the aggressor strode mere paces from Aralim, the blade caught a shard of sunlight, but was suddenly shoved aside. With both hands, the Aura that had been walking alongside them shoved the man to the dirt road.
Aralim stumbled back, stunned. The Aura took a step back too, but that was for the guards to shove past Devran and pin the attacker to the ground. Carrak put one hand on the man’s short hair and shoved his face into the mud, while Yovin put a knee on the man’s buttocks and claimed the knife from man’s flailing arm. Carrak looked up at Aralim.
There were a dozen people around already, stopping in their tracks as men in iron armour held a now unarmed assailant on the street.
“Sir,” Carrak said, “We should move him. Now.”
Aralim was still standing there in surprise. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Let’s bring him back to the boat.” Without a word, the assassin was dragged to his feet. Aralim tapped his lantern staff with his index finger. “Devran, here, take some coins. Finish purchasing supplies.”
Yovin made certain that Carrak had a good grip on the attacker before releasing his own grip. Aralim, Carrak, and the Aura escorted their prisoner toward the boat again. The crowd started to disperse, though a few tried to follow. After all, they spotted royal soldiers regularly enough, but accompanied by an Aura? It was a lot less likely.
Dullah stood up in the boat as they approached. She had donned her grey and green tunic again, but crossed her arms when she saw the stranger they brought by force. “Who’s this?” she asked.
Carrak shoved his captive down the steps and onto the rowboat, as Aralim followed a few paces behind. He frowned to Dullah and explained, “An assassin. Grendar, what do you recommend?”
The sergeant had already listened to a whisper from Carrak, and stood menacingly over their silent assailant. He removed his helmet and naturally held it in the crook of his arm. He turned to regard Aralim stoically. “We find out who hired him, and if we’re going to encounter more,” he said.
Aralim could scarcely believe that this had really happened, that an assassin had been hired to kill him, days out from Rema. “I guess this leg of our travels will be busier than the last… well, let’s tie him up.”
Carrak set to work with a rope, binding the man’s hands and feet. Before they gagged him, the assassin spoke up. “Wait, I’ve got something to say.”
Grendar and his subordinate paused and looked at Aralim for his orders. Odd, Aralim thought. “Then say it.”
“I’m a professional,” he assured Aralim. “Your men aren’t going to break me, because I was dead the minute I got taken down back there. So here’s the deal: I’ll tell you everything I know, but in return you’ll take me out of Numa’nakres, because freedom here would mean death for spilling secrets and failing my job.”
Aralim looked at Grendar skeptically, and then back at the bound man. “I’m assuming you understand our difficulty trusting you, being a professional.”
Grendar leaned in to Aralim’s shoulder, opposite his lantern staff, and murmured, “We could always just tell him what he wants to hear… maybe he’ll fall for it.”
“Keep me tied up if you need to,” the assassin called, over their whispering. “But I’m dead whatever I do.”
Aralim rubbed his lip. “Okay, then here’s the deal. We’ll keep you tied up. And we’ll cut you loose once we reach our destination, which is well out of Numa… provided Grendar feels you’ve told us everything.”
“As you wish,” the man mumbled, bowing his head.
Carrak, standing behind their prisoner, raised the rag he had been prepared to gag the stranger with. He lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head inquisitively.
“We’ll leave the gag off, for now,” Aralim mumbled.
Devran and Yovin returned, wordlessly descending the steps from the dock with a few cloth satchels of supplies. It took a few minutes for them to get comfortable, and then Lerela placed one of her oars against the wharf and shoved off. They drifted away from the dock, carrying on down the river.
Dullah took a step closer, staring at the captive. “Have you done this before?” she asked.
Aralim smiled. “Had someone try to assassinate me? No, that’s a first.”
“And you’re just going to let him stay within two feet of us, when we sleep?” Dullah questioned, turning to stare at him.
“Of course not,” Aralim said. The boat swayed gently in the water. “We’ll be sleeping in shifts for quite a while.” Dullah let out a shaky breath and started to walk away, muttering that it would be alright beneath her breath. Aralim sat down facing the assassin, and scrunched up his nose. “So… you were about to tell us everything…”
The man regarded him blankly. His right eye was a little larger than his left one, but his short hair hung down around his temples enough to obscure the trait. Then, he leaned forward and smiled. “Not everything. I’ll tell you that when we’re in a city beyond the borders. You want your beak wet? It was someone in the Courts that hired me, and I suspect you won’t encounter other assassins. I can all but guarantee it.”
Though the assassin waited for him to bite back, Aralim turned around on the bench and regarded Grendar with a frown. “I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to interrogate him when we take our shifts at night.”
Grendar looked over his shoulder at Dullah and then back to Aralim. The sergeant scratched his hooked nose and turned back to the Walker. “My thoughts exactly. We’ll keep the noise down for those trying to sleep,” he said, with an emotionless nod.