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somewhere better. Couldn t be much worse than this.
Blood rushed to her head as they turned her upside down, probably to carry her
up to the deck. Cooler air reached her through the sacking. She heard the sounds
of footsteps on wood change to footsteps on a harder surface.
The sound of many, many voices came to her, growing louder until they were all
around her.
A musty stink followed. She was dropped onto a hard surface and a door was
closed, muffling the voices. Someone close by said something tersely. There was
a mumbled reply then footsteps moved away.
A voice barked a word. The surface below her shifted abruptly, then she felt
motion. Whatever she lay upon began to sway gently. It was nothing like the
ship s movement. She drifted into a half-conscious state, too tired to pay
attention to the strange noises around her. So many voices could only mean she
was among many, many landwalkers. She ought to be frightened, but she had no
energy left for fear.
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The voices slowly died away. For a long time there was only the sound of
rhythmic steps close by. The sound of doors opening and closing eventually
roused her. She felt hands lift her up, then lower her to the ground again.
Silence followed. She was vaguely aware of something fussing about near her
feet. The cloth around her pulled tight, lifted her up, and she gave a yelp of
surprise as she slid out of the bag.
She plunged into cool, welcome water. It helped to clear her head. Surfacing, she
took in her surroundings. She was in a round pool in the middle of a round room
with a domed ceiling. In the center of the pool was an odd little sculpture of a
woman with a fish tail instead of legs. Like landwalkers, she had hair growing
from her head.
A fish woman. Is this supposed to be an Elai? She snorted with disgust.
The man the lead raider had brought down into the hull to see her was standing
nearby, smiling. Raising his arms, he gestured to her surroundings. She couldn t
guess what he meant.
He gazed at her for a while, then backed away through an arched entrance.
Reaching to one side, he grasped a gate made of metal bars and swung it closed.
Still smiling, he walked away.
Imi waited until his footsteps had faded away completely, then she hauled
herself out of the pool. It was not easy the level of the water was an arm s
length below the floor and she was so tired. The effort exhausted her and she lay
on the floor, panting, until her head stopped spinning.
Eventually she dragged herself to her feet and walked to the metal gate.
Grabbing it, she pushed. It did not move. She examined the latch. It was held
closed by some kind of metal lock. All was dark beyond it.
Of course, she thought. Sinking to her knees, she turned to regard the pool and
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its ridiculous sculpture. This is my prison now. I m a decoration, like that statue.
The staring man will probably come to look at me all the time.
She crawled to the edge of the pool. There was nowhere shallow to lie. If she
tried to sleep in there, she would drown. She would have to wake every few
hours and wet her skin, or risk drying out and& She reached down and cupped
some water in her hand. Bringing it to her mouth, she sipped.
Plain water, she thought. I wonder how long it will be before I start to sicken.
She shook her head. I m too tired to think about it. Lying down on the cool stone
floor, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Looking up from her work, Emerahl squinted into the fine rain. A dismal day,
she thought. But the captain is happy. We netted a fine catch.
The high wall of the Toren cliffs loomed over them on the right. They had been
much farther out to sea when they had passed the lighthouse the day before.
Looking at the distant white tower, Emerahl had expected to feel regret. She had
spent so long living in that remote ruin. Instead she felt repelled.
All those years living in isolation with only lowlife smugglers for neighbors. I
don t know why I didn t die of boredom. It s so good to be among decent, hard-
working people again.
Emerahl began to turn back to the fish-gutting but a light caught her eyes and
drew her attention back to the cliff. As a fold of the rock face drew back, more
lights appeared. This was their destination. Yaril.
There so she had been told lived a young man who had been saved from
drowning by The Gull but six months before. She had heard many tales of the
mysterious sea boy now. Everyone who lived on the coast knew someone who
could relate an encounter with The Gull. These same tales were repeated in
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every town. Perhaps nobody was related to the heroes and the tellers were just
claiming to know them in order to tell a better tale, but these towns were small
and it was possible they all knew each other, even if distantly.
In fact, it was amusing to think of them all linked by these stories.
Yaril was in plain sight now. To the fishermen it was merely a good place to sell
their catch. She turned her attention back to gutting the fish. The captain had
only agreed to take her to Yaril if she made herself useful. She didn t mind the
work. It kept her hands busy while she thought about all she d learned.
As the boat drew closer to the town, the crew left the preparation of the catch to
Emerahl while they navigated into a shallow bay. She hurried through the last of
the fish then rose and gathered her belongings. Her clothes stank of fish and her
skin was sticky from sweat and salt water. As soon as she was ashore she would
book a room and wash herself and her garments.
The crew guided the boat up to a short jetty. The moment it was close enough,
she leapt off. Turning back once, she gave the captain a nod of thanks before
striding into Yaril.
Unlike most of the towns on the coast of Toren, Yaril did not sit at the top of the
cliff. Behind the fold in the rock wall a narrow river had worn the sheer drop into
a steep, broken slope. Houses had been built on this out of the same stones as the
cliffs right up to the edge of the cascading river.
It was a town with no roads, just staircases going up and down and narrow paths
running across the slope. Emerahl paused to smile at a man walking down the
stairs who was staring at her with open curiosity.
Good day to you. Would there be lodging for travellers here?
The man nodded. The Widow Laylin has a room for rent. Number three, third
level. That s the next level up. It s on the right.
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Thank you.
She continued up the stairs and turned on to one of the narrow walkways.
Stopping at a house with a large number three carved into the door, she knocked.
The door opened and a large middle-aged woman looked Emerahl up and down.
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