The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (6 page)

“Chipo and I are going to look through the market while you shop. Okay, Damir?”

Damir tightened his grip on the reins. “I don’t know, Elina,” Damir began, but Elina interrupted him.

“It’ll be fine, Dammy.”

“Fine, but you’re not to wander too far off, and you’ll keep Chipo with you,” Damir ordered as he glanced at his sister, who leaned against the wolf. Chipo cocked her head to the side as she looked up at Damir. The wolf had shown no desire to leave the farm after Damir had offered her food.

ELINA LAUGHED. IT was a warm, pleasurable sound that was as equally pleasant to Balin as Damir’s laughter was. A lump began to form in Balin’s throat the closer they drew to Canaan. Once they reached the city, the simplicity he had begun to know on the small farm would be gone. No longer would he share his nights with an angel. He wanted to return to work, to finish the job he needed to do—the desire to kill formed an anxious knot that coiled tightly in his stomach—but he was more than a little reluctant to leave this brief moment of happiness behind. He wanted more than a simple farewell.

He wanted to taste Damir’s lips before he boarded an airship.

They rounded the last bend and approached Canaan. It was the largest city along the eastern coast of Pheor, followed second by the city of Traum. Jutting up like a giant bronze globe from the east side of Canaan was the air stadium. The generally busy port was strangely dead today. No airships entered or left. As Damir approached the city entrance, the road turned from that of beaten dirt to cobblestone.

“Have you been to Canaan?” Elina asked Balin as she rose to her knees and peered around Damir’s shoulder.

“No, I have not.” Balin glanced at her.

“It’s amazing. You can find anything here.” Elina’s wide smile lit up her face and crinkled her large eyes.

Balin had seen many large cities in his time, and while Canaan was indeed of great size, it was but a drop in the ocean. He didn’t tell her that, though. Balin returned her smile and patted her head. “Then I shall have you show me some of the sights before we reach the stadium.”

Elina eagerly nodded.

Canaan was busy with life. Shops lined the road, sandwiched together until there was barely room to move. Only a hairbreadth was between the buildings. A rare alley here and there cut through to a neighboring road. The red stucco roofs added a splash of color.

“We’ll go to the stadium first,” Damir said.

“I wanted to show Balin the market,” Elina protested.

“Balin will not want to waste his time at the market. It’s best to get him to the stadium in case his ship may be leaving,” Damir said, his voice firm.

Balin studied Damir’s composed face, wishing he could chisel away at the stone mask. Damir gave him nothing to go off of. He wanted to say something, but what could he do? He couldn’t stay.

“Maybe next time,” Balin offered Elina. It was a false promise, though. He knew it, and he hated himself for it. Elina was a good person; she didn’t need false hopes.

Elina flopped down with an exaggerated huff and fell silent as they made their way to the air stadium. Canaan sang with life. The streets were packed with people. A constant chatter and sound floated around, and the aromatic scent of sweet meats, fresh breads, and cut flowers permeated the alleys. Beneath the scents of the market was the stench of Canaan’s underbelly—sweat, blood, and piss.

It took fifteen minutes to make it to the air stadium. Guards stood outside the massive gates. As Damir approached, a guard stepped away from his place and held a hand up.

“Halt.”

Damir pulled on his reins, and the wagon came to a stop. The guard approached Damir’s side, the sunlight glinting off his armor.

“The air stadium is closed for maintenance,” the guard said in a deep, booming voice. “There will be no airships coming or going for the next few days.”

“Thank you,” Damir said to the guard. When the guard moved on, he turned to Balin. “What shall we do?”

Balin saw the first glimmer of emotion in Damir’s eyes since they’d left the farm. Could it possibly be happiness? Had Damir been distraught by his departure? Balin’s heart soared.

He knew he should have been upset by being set back even further in his mission, and in some part, he was. There was a dread to the delay. Death was a fickle business, and such delays never boded well. But Balin couldn’t deny his own tingle of relief at being allowed to remain with Damir and Elina for just a little longer.

“There is nothing we can do.” He shrugged. “I will just have to wait until the stadium is back up to working order.”

“Maybe there is someone you can hitch a ride with,” Damir offered. “The market is filled with merchants. Perhaps they can take you to Traum. There is another stadium there, or the train could take you. It’s slower than airships, but it shouldn’t be out of order.”

It was the next logical choice, but Balin shook his head. “Another few days won’t make a difference.”

He didn’t know if that was exactly true. A few days could make all the difference.

Am I losing my edge?
He must have knocked his head harder than he realized during the crash.

Damir nodded and began to turn the wagon around. “Well, then, shall we head to market?”

Elina excitedly clapped her hands. They wove their way around until they could maneuver back onto the streets and headed toward the center of Canaan. Like a beating heart, the market pulsed with energy and life, keeping Canaan alive with an endless flow of currency and trade. Merchants from all over Zoria came to bid their wares, able to take advantage of both sea and air travel in order to extend their business.

Exotic spices and incense mingled with the floral perfume of lilacs and roses and clouded Balin’s senses. Everything from meats and vegetables to armor and magical trinkets filled the market. Merchant stalls were set up around the town square, and at the very middle of it was a marble fountain.

DAMIR PULLED TO the side of a stable and dropped a single
lamna
into a stable boy’s hand. “Mind my horse and wagon, and there will be another lamna for you.”

The stable boy eagerly bobbed his blond head and took the reins of the horse. Balin hopped down and came around.

“Two lamna for a stable boy?” he said as they walked away. “Don’t you think that’s a little overly generous? Usually it’s just a couple of
trolics
.”

“He’s taking care of my horse and watching our things. I’d rather he make sure to take extra good care of it and return to find everything well than let my cheapness endanger the creature and risk thievery,” Damir said simply as he secured his scarf around his neck. He added as an afterthought, “It’s only money anyway. There will always be more.”

Balin scoffed but didn’t press further. Elina walked on Damir’s other side. “You may go look around, Elina, but don’t venture too far.”

Elina needed no further instruction. She gave her brother a hug, then ran off headfirst into the crowd, vanishing into the throng as if she were but a wisp of smoke. Balin shook his head and chuckled.

“She sure does love the market, doesn’t she?”

“We don’t get out much, so when we do visit Canaan, she’s eager to see what’s new,” Damir said.

Balin nudged Damir gently with his shoulder. “Come; let us see what we can find. What are you searching for?”

Damir extracted a list from a pouch secured to his side, his money jingling when he touched it. He unrolled the list. “I need to see the seamstress to get a few bolts of fabric for Elina’s spring clothes, the medicus to restock our salves, the grocer to restock on salt, flour, soap, and tooth powder. I need some new brushes for the horses and a new sharpening stone. I thought we might also swing by the baker for some fresh scones as well as see if there aren’t any vegetables to be had.”

Damir paused. He cast Balin a cautious look. “Are you sure you are all right to stay? If money is an issue, Balin, I would be more than happy to fund your travels.”

Balin shook his head. To Damir’s surprise, Balin reached up and brushed hair out of his face. The feel of Balin’s fingers brushing across his skin unleashed a need inside Damir. He wanted to tilt into the touch, to feel more than just a tiny dusting of fingertips.

“No, it is fine. I can think of no place I’d rather be right now than with you,” Balin said. Damir sucked in a sharp breath. Balin smiled and turned to the merchant stalls. “Come. Let’s get through that list and see what we can find.”

For a moment Damir remained cemented where he was, merely gazing at Balin as if the moon and sun spun around him. Finally he snapped from his reverie and nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

Together they moved from booth to shop, placing orders and having supplies sent to the wagon to be loaded. They went to the seamstress first, where Damir carefully looked over each bolt of fabric. He didn’t have much money to spend on clothes, but he made sure what he purchased was of good quality. He selected a few simple fabrics made of cotton with basic colors, adding in one with a splash of green.

After the general store, Balin followed Damir to the medicus. “Why do you buy salves from a medicus if you can heal?”

Damir threw a cautious glance around. There were always ears open, waiting to snatch up bits of gossip like hungry rodents stealing bread crumbs. “It takes a lot from me to heal, especially when wounds are large. For minor things, I prefer to rely on natural means of medicine.”

“What of my wounds?” Balin asked.

Damir blinked and looked at him, confusion creasing his brow. Balin took a step closer. “I was on the cusp of death, and you brought me back to life. That had to cost you greatly.”

“Any price was worth it,” Damir whispered without thinking. Balin ran his fingers over the top of Damir’s hand. Damir bowed his head and gave it a small shake. “It took a great deal from me, I will admit. I nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve caused you such great strife,” Balin murmured.

Could Damir call it strife? He never thought of it that way. Not when it meant saving a life. And as far as Damir cared, Balin’s life would always be worth saving. He turned his palm up so Balin’s wandering fingers stroked across it. For a hopeful second, Damir thought their hands would tangle together.

Damir pulled away and continued down the path, his cheeks hot. “It’s fine. I wanted to do it.”

Balin followed Damir into the medicus’s apothecary. The shop was murky inside, filled with smoke scented by sandalwood and eucalyptus. Balin waved his hand in front of his face as they pushed through the door and made their way to the front counter. Various fresh and dried herbs were strung from the rafters, along with hundreds of glittering crystals that reflected the cozy fire to the right.

A plump woman made her way from the back to the front of the shop. For her rather formidable size, she moved with the fluidity of water and glided across the floor toward them. Her wild brown hair was streaked heavily with gray and fell around her handsome face. A wide smile spread across her lips. She opened her arms.

“Damir, you’ve returned. What can I get you this time?”

“How are you, Ashwin? Well, I hope,” Damir said as he embraced the voluptuous woman.

Ashwin chortled merrily and patted Damir’s shoulder. “Of course. Busy, but good. The influenza has spread again, and my rooms are filled.”

“It is that time of year. No one has passed though, correct?” Damir asked hopefully.

“Not yet, blessed be the Child-God.” Ashwin made the symbol of the sun by brushing her fingers from forehead to shoulders to heart, and then completed it with a quick circular motion. She dropped her hand to her side and released a disheartened sigh. “I do not know how much longer such sadness will avoid my humble apothecary. They say war is on the horizon, and the streets flood more and more with the army.”

Damir frowned deeply. “War? So it’s true; it has come to that?”

“So they say,” Ashwin said, and her expression grew grave. She briefly dropped her gaze.

BALIN CLENCHED HIS jaw. Her cumbersome words bore heavy on his shoulders, reminded him of what needed to be done. War was of no importance to the Shadowwalker. He was not tied to any particular country or creed, but a job was a job, and he prided himself on leaving no loose ends. When Ashwin looked up, her gaze settled on him.

“Who is this fine gentleman?”

Balin hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to pepper Canaan with memories of himself. He wanted to merely float away, as effervescent as mist. Damir looked at him, waiting for his reply. There was no way for Balin to lie. “Balin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Balin. How did you come upon our dear Damir?” Ashwin asked as she kept a secure, motherly arm around Damir’s shoulder and held him close to her bosom. Damir squirmed in her grasp but didn’t pull away.

“He saved my life,” Balin admitted.

Ashwin laughed knowingly. “I should have guessed. Damir is a natural healer.”

You have no idea
. Balin nodded with a small, knowing smile. Damir finally managed to wiggle his way out from Ashwin’s grasp.

“He was collapsed outside the fields. I just nursed him back.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t pursue a career as medicus, Damir,” Ashwin mused as she moved back around the counter.

Damir shrugged noncommittally. He stopped in front of the counter and held out his list. “I just need these few things. We’ve run low. But since you mentioned that influenza has begun, add on some echinacea oil as well.”

Ashwin took the list and held it far out in front of her. “Let’s see here…”

She began to walk around the shop, selecting two salves, three oils, two syrups, and two colognes. Damir extracted the right amount of money and handed it to Ashwin as she bundled up the packages and had one of her apprentices deliver it to Damir’s wagon.

“Where is Elina?” Ashwin asked as she stashed away the coins.

“Roaming the market. You know she won’t stay with me when we’re in town,” Damir said fondly.

Balin moved beside him, trying to offer some kind of silent assurance. Ashwin walked around the counter and rested her hip against it, her arms crossed over her massive chest.