‘It’s bigger than I’d thought it would be,’ Flora said, her voice sounding small.
Jimmy was glad she’d said it because it was exactly what he’d been thinking. He snorted. ‘It’s not a patch on Krondor,’ he said. He straightened and threw back his shoulders. ‘And we did just fine there.’
Flora touched his arm with a grateful smile. Then she looked out at the town, uncertain once more. She sighed. ‘I have no idea where to begin.’
‘Well, you know his name and what he does, or,’ he shrugged, ‘did for a living, right?’ He’d intended to talk with her about this on board, but he’d been too sick most of the way and too hungry for the rest of it.
‘Yes,’ Flora said. ‘He was a solicitor and his name was Yardley Heywood.’
Oh, that’s not good, Jimmy thought. If her grandfather was a court solicitor he had represented his fair share of criminals. Which meant he was all too likely to guess what his long-lost granddaughter had been doing to survive these last few years, no matter what she said. Worse, he’d be able to guess what Jimmy did.
‘Yardley Heywood,’ he said aloud. ‘That sounds like a rich man’s name.’
Flora laughed. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’
Picking up his bag decisively, and one of hers to maintain the illusion of his being well brought up, Jimmy gestured toward the town. ‘First thing we should do is head for solid ground. I can feel this dock moving up and down and it’s making me nervous.’
‘It’s not the dock, lad,’ Jarvis Coe said with a smile.
Jimmy blinked in surprise. Twice: because he couldn’t imagine how the man had managed to get that close without him noticing; and because of a subtle change. Coe’s clothes were just a bit more prosperous than they’d seemed aboard ship, perhaps because he’d added a horseman’s high boots and a long dark cloak with a hood, plus a flat cloth cap that sported a peacock feather. More probably because he wore the sword that Jimmy had suspected would be his to wear: a plain, narrow blade with a curled guard in a workmanlike leather sheath, matched with a dagger on the other side—a fighting dirk nine inches long, not the ordinary belt-knife people carried for everyday tasks like cutting bread or getting a stone out of a horse’s shoe.
Coe still didn’t look rich, or conspicuous; but he did look like a gentleman of sorts. He pulled off the cap and bowed slightly to Flora, who bobbed him a curtsey in reflex.
‘It’s the way everyone feels coming off a ship. In a day or so you’ll get your land-legs back, as the sailors say. Where are you headed?’
Both the young Mockers frowned at him. I don’t like this, Jimmy thought. This man alters his appearance too easily, just by donning a new cloak and by changing the way he holds his head.
Coe chuckled: ‘I suppose it’s none of my business,’ he said. ‘But if you’re looking for a clean, cheap place to stay I can recommend a few.’
Jimmy and Flora looked at one another. Generosity from strangers, especially this close to Great Kesh and its slavers, was somewhat suspicious.
Coe looked at them and nodded thoughtfully. ‘All right, then. I can see you’ll be all right on your own. Just, if I may,’ he nodded at a dockside inn, ‘avoid The Cockerel.’ He put a finger beside his nose and winked. ‘Just a word to the wise.’ Then he was gone with a swirl of his dark cape.
‘Who’s he?’ Flora whispered. ‘I never talked to him on board.’
‘His name’s Jarvis Coe,’ Jimmy said. ‘But who he is I don’t know.’
He pulled at the bracelet on his wrist until the leather strap came undone. Then he studied it carefully. The slight pressure he’d felt against his wrist had been provided by a small pebble glued to the leather. The pebble looked ordinary enough, still . . . He tossed it into the water. Who could tell what might or might not be magic, or what that magic might do?
‘What was that?’ Flora asked.
‘Something he gave me for the seasickness. It worked. It might be magic.’
‘Well that was nice,’ she said dubiously.
Jimmy glanced at her. Flora was looking into the water and frowning, then she stared down the dock. Following her example, Jimmy saw that Coe had vanished; not hurrying, just walking away and blending in like a wisp of mist. Something a Mocker knew the way of.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s find a place to stay and stow our gear. Then we can start looking for your family.’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder with a grin. ‘But what do we do about The Cockerel? It might turn out to be the safest place in town.’
Flora picked up her bag and started walking. ‘That’d be a first for a dockside tavern,’ she said.
Jimmy nodded, then stopped. ‘Wait!’ he said.