The Huntsman's Amulet (36 page)

Chapter 54

The Curious Beasts

H
e ran through the
events of the day over and over as he lay in his bunk that night, until everything blurred together with his dreams. It was difficult to be sure that he had actually found Alessandra and not imagined the whole thing. He needed to come up with some way to get her, the Rala and Alessandra’s friend out of the seraglio, the city and to safety.

The harbour was too obvious. As soon as it was noticed that the Rala was gone, the harbour would be closed. It might be an option if he decided to free Alessandra only, as her disappearance was unlikely to cause as much of a fuss. The only option that he could see if the Rala was with them was to make their escape by land. There would be many routes out of the city, and with the Rala, he could be going north to her father’s Khaganate or south to Kirek, increasing the possibilities again. The thought of crossing a desert on foot did not fill him with joy, so preparations would need to be made.

He would have dropped the notion of rescuing the Rala were it not for the offer the Khagan had made. The money would give Soren and Alessandra security for the rest of their lives. It was too good an opportunity to pass up so he had to at least try.

Living in the close confines of the seraglio, Alessandra was bound to know the Rala by now, at least to see, so he didn’t have to worry about trying to identify her any more. One item off a list that was growing longer and more complicated by the minute.

He hoped that Alessandra could take care of getting them out of the seraglio itself. Having sneaked out into the warren of corridors beneath the palace once, she should be able to do it again, and bring the others with her. That came as something of a relief, as getting them out had been Soren’s greatest problem. The Bluecloaks presented too much of a danger for it to be done any other way, so he hoped she would go along with this plan

Once out in the corridors, if they were discovered, Soren could take care of it more discreetly and in a fashion that would not bring the whole garrison down on them. Getting out of the palace would be most easily done at night, while he was on duty. He could make sure the northern guardsmen under his command were somewhere other than the route he would take and direct Alessandra to lead the others out of the palace to somewhere they could wait for him to slip away. With luck it would be morning before anyone noticed that anything was amiss, and they should be many miles out into the desert.

All that remained was to arrange supplies, find somewhere that he could store them, and if possible, find someone who would be willing to guide them through the desert. He was a competent navigator, having spent several months leading cavalry patrols through the featureless grasslands on Ostia’s eastern frontier. He had never been into the desert though. Local knowledge might be the difference between dying in the expanse of sand and having a pleasant journey through a foreign land.

Although it was almost evening, Soren was eager to begin right away. His duties were done with for the day and while it would be noticed if he was not present for the evening meal that all of the officers usually shared together in the guardroom, there were a great many diversions in the city that could easily explain his absence, and that were often responsible for the absence of others.

He changed out of his uniform and went straight toward the market square, casting a wary eye toward the alley that led to the slave market when he arrived. He was quite confident that if he strayed too close, his appearance would be noticed and trouble might follow. Not what he needed.

On the walk down from the palace he had considered taking a room at the inn he had stayed at on his first night in the city. He’d need to store whatever supplies he gathered — and it could work as a place for them to meet after Alessandra had gotten out of the palace. However he didn’t think it could be relied on.

He wandered around the market for a while to get a feel for what was on offer, which was pretty much everything imaginable. Cloths of every colour, foods of every smell and objects of every shape. He decided the easiest approach to finding what he was looking for was to ask.

He approached a merchant with a large stall that had a good selection of sturdy looking work wear and equipment laid out on his counter. Being larger and more prosperous looking than those around him, Soren hoped that he might have experience with foreign trade and speak some Imperial as a result.

‘Do you speak Imperial?’ he asked.

‘Yes, yes, a little.’

‘I’m planning a journey into the desert. What will I need to bring with me?’

He already had a fair idea of what would be required, but there was no harm in getting the advice of someone who was familiar with the desert.

‘Water,’ the vendor said, with a broad smile. ‘Lots of it.’

He supposed he had invited a glib answer, but he did wonder if being a smart arse was a cultural aspect of Shandahari traders, or if it was just the people he chose to speak with.

‘Most people who want to go across the desert join a caravan. It’s the safest way. You pay them and they will take care of everything else, food, water, baggage. You will need good desert boots though,’ he said, gesturing to a selection of tough leather boots on his stall. ‘Suitable clothes too.’

‘Thank you. I’ll think about the boots and clothes.’

A caravan. It made sense, but he would just have to find one that would be willing to take them along, that would also be leaving at a time that fit in with his plans. While it was definitely worth investigating, it was unlikely that Soren would be able to fit in with someone else’s timetable for leaving the city.

He found a passer-by that spoke Imperial, and got directions to the main city stables located near the landward gate in the city wall. It stood to reason that this would be a likely place for a desert caravan to start off from.

The stables were large, busy and smelly. There were many horses, but their numbers were easily equalled by camels. Soren had seen them in the menagerie in Ostenheim a number of times when he was younger so they were not completely unknown to him, but he had never been this close to one before. With two humps on their back and shaggy golden-brown fur, they looked comical to Soren, and to see them being used as anything other than a menagerie attraction was decidedly odd.

He approached a man giving out orders to various stable workers while doing very little himself. That could only mean he was in a position of authority. After establishing that the man could speak Imperial, Soren discovered that caravans left the city nearly every day, most often from those stables as Soren had thought. He was assured that there would be no problem in finding a place on one so long as he had the coin to pay his way.

The caravans left early in the morning, before the sun came up. The stable master told him that they made their way through the desert from one oasis to the next. Not the most direct route, but the one most likely to be survivable.

The timing was not ideal. The disappearance of the women from the seraglio would be noticed first thing in the morning. If he sneaked them out of the palace during the night, they would have to wait for several hours before the caravan left and wouldn’t be as far from the city as he would have liked by the time their absence was discovered. The alternative was to hire a guide and camels so they would be ready to go whenever he was. There were benefits and drawbacks to both, greater safety and anonymity with a caravan, greater flexibility and speed with a guide.

Further inquiries got him the name of a guide, Sharbo, who worked out of the stables and owned five camels, enough to take them south without having to hire more. Soren’s experience with the street trader made him wary of a guide recommended by a complete unknown, stable master or not. Being robbed and abandoned in the desert was not an attractive eventuality. His concerns were such that joining a caravan seemed a far more sensible option.

However, he wasn’t going to dismiss the option out of hand, and spoke to Sharbo, who seemed to know his business, and had the look of a man accustomed to travel, discomfort and hard work. Looks could be deceiving, but Soren had few options and had to make a decision based on his gut feeling.

For a suitably large payment — not all up front — Soren got Sharbo to agree to wait at the stables, ready to go at short notice, from dusk until dawn for the next five days. The guide thought it odd, but the money on offer was enough to quell his curiosity.

With the bare bones of a plan in place, Soren headed toward the harbour, concerned that he was going to lead them all to a miserable death in the desert.

There were two ways out of the city and the territory that it controlled. While Soren had discounted the sea, there was no harm in laying as confused a trail as he could. It was a hassle, but it might give them a few more hours before pursuit began in earnest.

He started making inquiries at the docks about the ships in the harbour, and where they were headed. For the most part the men he tried to talk to shook their heads blankly and walked away, but there were a number of northern vessels there too and Soren was able to speak with some of the sailors from them. Most importantly, plenty of people saw him make his enquiries.

He found the names of several ships that would be sailing north over the next few days before returning to the guardhouse. He had no idea when his plan would be carried out, but he could return when he had a better idea of timing and make the fake purchase then.