The stern of Flying Sunset cut through the waves of Trader’s Bay as the evening sun set the ocean’s surface ablaze with orange rays. Aralim, Dullah, and Devran watched the clouds turning purple and dark blue from a porthole in the galleon’s side. This two-and-a-half decked vessel housed abundant crew and carried several passengers as its sails carried them southeast.
“It was good stew,” Devran said. “All things considered.”
Lerela sat with them and nodded. On the public ship, the guards had been wearing torso armour, unlike their time on the somewhat secluded riverboat. She stiffened suddenly, and Aralim looked across the mess hall. A few crewmen were socializing near the door, but stepped out of the way for Sergeant Grendar to enter. The soldier looked at Aralim, as he approached.
“What is it?” Aralim asked, starting to stand up.
Grendar leaned close to Aralim, speaking from the Walker’s shoulder. “Our prisoner would like a word, sir,” he murmured.
Aralim blinked. How odd, he thought. He looked at his other friends. “I guess I’m needed elsewhere,” he said. Dullah sighed and looked out the window again, as Aralim’s unlit lantern staff led him across the mess. The Captain of Flying Sunset had expressed his disinterest with live fire aboard his ship, as much as is possible.
They marched down the hallway of quarters to the hatch at the end of the deck. In the cargo hold below, Carrak stood on duty beside Gathim. The failed assassin was tied to a chair, but looked up as Aralim and Grendar descended the ladder. He started talking before Aralim had even reached the lower deck.
“You see that bucket?” he asked. “They shove my head in it for minutes at a time… I told you I would tell you anything you want to know once we reach a safe harbor beyond the borders.”
Aralim crossed his arms, expertly avoiding striking himself with the swaying lantern on his staff. “You did. Unfortunately, it’s hard to trust an assassin.”
“So I have to endure another month of this, if you make good travel decisions, or more if you don’t? When I am holding to the deal?”
Aralim let out his breath in a long, drawn-out sigh and sank down to the floor. It was the only space to sit. “I’ll be honest, I’m not the biggest admirer of violence. But that does seem like odd reasoning from a man paid to kill me…. is this your first job?”
“No,” the bound man replied. “But it is the first time I’ve been caught. Having done nothing wrong, this certainly is not the treatment I expected.”
“Why would you be expected to be treated fairly? Every luxury we give you is a liability… including your health!” Aralim regarded their prisoner incredulously. He couldn’t believe the man was asking for mercy in his position.
“Can’t you see what’s going on?” Gathim demanded. “I got caught by you on purpose. What kind of assassin walks up in broad daylight from the front?”
Aralim blinked. “I know,” he said. “The question is, where does your plan go from there?”
Gathim ground his teeth in frustration. His dark beard was starting to grow longer, after nearly a month as their captive. “Fine,” he replied. He inhaled angrily. “Talk to you in Hawsi.”
“Right when you got close to telling me something that would actually uphold your deal,” Aralim said, shaking his head and slowly standing up. “I’m a Walker of the Path. It’s an interesting religion. Have you heard of it?”
“Of course I have heard of it. Everyone’s heard of the Emperor’s pet Walker.”
Aralim started pacing toward the door. “It focuses on reshaping the world based on your own strength,” he explained. He bobbed his head for Grendar to follow him, and began climbing the ladder again, lantern staff in hand. “In the south, there are people who protest my religion because, as a matter of speaking… it has no morals.” He turned back to smile before his head disappeared through the hatch to the second deck.
Grendar spoke with him in hushed tones, while they stood at the top of the hallway between quarters. Aralim found the guard constantly offering a polite respect to the Walker, but he had done nothing to earn it. “What are the chances that he’s just biding his time for something?” Aralim asked.
“At risk to us, you mean?” Grendar rebutted.
“Yes,” Aralim said. “Magic is not out of the question.”
“I don’t know,” Grendar muttered. “I’m not really sure what to think of all this, to be honest. He certainly seems to have a point when he says that he meant to be captured… but I feel there’s something more to the explanation of why, something we don’t know.”
Aralim nodded. “The options are really as follows: He’s a method of reconnaissance, he still plans to finish the job, or he’s a decoy and there’s another coming.”
“Or, he legitimately thought this would be a safe way to get out of the country,” Grendar pointed out. “I can focus my questioning if you’d like, but should we focus on what plans he has ahead or on why he wants to leave Numa’nakres?”
Aralim pursed his lips. Dullah was walking down the hallway, but paused near their quarters and waited for Aralim. “My first concern is his plans ahead,” the Walker said. “His reasons for leaving can wait until we’re safely beyond the reach of any of his possible contacts.”
“Will we be? Safely beyond the reach of his contacts?” Grendar asked. He shrugged. “The Three Courts of Rema hold the most powerful individuals in the Known World.”
“It’s true, Ovoe’s contacts encompassed the Known World,” Aralim said. “Maybe he’ll never be free… the poor fool of an assassin.”
Grendar bowed stiffly. “I’ll let you know if he starts speaking now, but he’s only offered information at times of his choosing so far.” His guard turned back to the hatch and bent to open it, while Aralim paced away.
He couldn’t quite read Dullah’s expression. She didn’t look pleased, but Aralim wasn’t certain if she was angry or just tired. “Did he reveal anything more?” she asked, leaning against the door to Aralim’s quarters.
“Just that he planned to be captured, and he doesn’t like being tortured.” Aralim scoffed and continued, “Assassin’s are apparently treated better where he’s from.” Someone had really messed this man’s sense of position up.
“Throw him overboard,” Dullah said. “Nothing he says will change how much danger or lack thereof we’re in, so what’s the point?”
Aralim sighed. “Because, whoever hired him is taking steps after Ovoe. And it’s best to know about that earlier rather than later.” She stepped aside and he opened the door to his quarters. He shared them with Devran, while Dullah bunked with Lerela.
“I see. It’s consuming an awful lot of your focus,” she replied, following him in. “I assumed there was something more… spiritual about our Walk. Not full of religious practice obviously, but, something…”
Aralim paused and turned back to her. “It’s not taking much of my focus at all. The guards are doing most of it. The Path has no texts or rituals. You will find nothing unless you walk in earnest, aware of the powers around you and how they’re formed.”
Dullah blinked. “So your focus, when you’re ‘Walking the Path’… is fully on whatever it is you encounter, whether that’s an assassin or a particularly unique road-sign?”
“Or a particularly non-unique road-sign,” Aralim said, chuckling. “Now, how about some tea?”