“Not tonight, lad. They’re going to ring the bells soon, anyway. Pack up for the night. You can leave in the morning.” He folded his arms, immune to Thealos’ pleas.
Thealos scrutinized the porter guards. “This is a delicate matter,” he said, unslinging the travel pack from across his shoulders. It was obvious they were expecting a bribe. In quick motions, he untied the mouth and reached inside. “My father is expecting a wagon shipment from the Radstill vineyards. If it arrives early,” he continued, withdrawing a sealed bottle of Silvan wine, “we stand to make quite a profit from the sale.”
“Sweet Achrolese,” one of the guards gasped, staring at the bottle. “Is that…?”
“Yes, it is,” Thealos answered with a greedy smile. “See these symbols? It’s a dark red from the Silverborne kegs. As I said, gentlemen, this is an important meeting I must attend to. If you let me out tonight, I’ll let you share this one. Even though it will cost me,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “Do we have a deal?”
The porter captain stared hungrily at the bottle and nodded. Fetching the gate keys from an iron ring around his belt, he unlocked the doors. Thealos nodded approvingly to the captain and handed him the bottle. He listened with smug confidence as the porter doors were closed and sealed behind him. He wondered whether any of them knew the bottle cost barely thirty silver pence in Avisahn. It was a modest table wine that even Arielle drank mixed with water – though still good by human standards. It did come from the Silverborne kegs. Of course, that’s what the label declared on nearly every bottle of wine from Thealos’ home.
*
When dawn broke like a foamy wave over the woodlands, Thealos shook his head wearily. It didn’t feel like that much time had passed. The purple sky brightened until it shone a lustrous blue, hiding the stars in the light. Woven blankets of gray clouds floated along the channels of wind, bringing the smells of wildberries and decaying bark. The city of Dos-Aralon was well behind him, and he walked at an even pace, keeping away from the river. His plan was simple, and still a little unformed. Thealos wanted to walk the whole valley, to get a feeling and friendship with the people of the land. He wanted to meet farmers and soldiers and spinners – even members of the Bandit Rebellion – and learn from them. He knew he should be cautious. There were stories of what men did to the Shae away from the homeland. Of course, the stories were meant to discourage exactly what Thealos intended to do. But if he could find a small group to travel with – a group of humans he could trust – it would increase his chances of surviving. With that in mind, he continued south, following the Trident River because he thought Nordain would look to the western lands for him first and Correl would search the city. Besides, Thealos knew the eastern ridge of the valley from the trading routes that Correl used, and he thought it wise to stay near familiar ground until he reached the Shoreland. Once he was down there, he could catch a ship to anywhere in the world and his trail would be impossible to pick up. Bluejays squawked from the branches of tall poplars, fluttering from tree to tree, chasing flying beetles. By midday, a rim of sweat had formed on Thealos’ brow. Lowering the hood so he could feel the wind on his neck, he swept his long blond hair back and kept it loose. He was tall for a Shae, but still recognizably one even at a distance.