Of Gods and Elves

chapter Seventeen


Millet and Jacob disembarked from the river craft. The heat in Baltria was causing no small amount of discomfort for the two, and both were sweating profusely.

“I'll never understand how people live in this wretched heat,” said Jacob.

Millet had never been around someone so contrary and ill-tempered in his life. Though he tried to be understanding that the boy's mother was in captivity and his entire life had been stripped away, he couldn't help but become irritated. On more than one occasion, he marveled that this ill-mannered youth could be the son of Lee Nal’Thain.

“You had better be grateful that they do,” remarked Millet. “Most trade goods in Hazrah come through here. Without Baltria and its port, most of the world would starve.”

“Hazrah is starving,” snapped Jacob.

For once Millet felt as Jacob did. The thought of the people of Hazrah suffering caused anger to swell inside him. “You said you have friends here?”

“Yes,” Jacob replied. “But I'll need to visit them alone. They do not enjoy meeting new people.”

“I assure you that I can fit in,” said Millet. He didn't like the idea of Jacob venturing into Baltria alone. “I know this city very well. I think you'd be better off—”

“I said I'm going alone,” he growled. “Besides, don't you need to find my... father?” The word “father” dripped with hatred.

“Your father will find us,” said Millet. “You can count on that.”

“If you say so.” Jacob shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “I don't care. You wait for him, and I'll do what I have to do.”

Millet led them through the city, into the tavern district, to the Green Barnacle Inn. Lee had stayed there for a month when they had first come to Baltria many years ago. He would often return to see the jugglers or musicians and relax. Lee had always enjoyed less sophisticated company. Millet had considered the Malt and Mane, another of Lee's old haunts, but Millet had never cared for the place. If Lee were there, he would look for them at the Green Barnacle, too.

Millet still had a considerable amount of money on him. He had plenty left from the trip and more still from the sale of their horses. He decided to spring for some new attire after they checked in. His clothes were dirty and worn from travel. He smiled, thinking of the many trips and hardships he had endured in his travels with Lee, and despite the boy’s ill temper, he was pleased to have had the experience with his son.

Millet and Jacob stowed their belongings in their rooms, and took time to eat a modest meal of roast pork and wine. As they ate, Millet began to regret filling his stomach the moment he remembered the seafood stew at the Plank Walker's Cafe. If Lee were already here, he would have made it one of his first stops.

Once he was finished, Jacob stood from the table and moved toward the door. “When should I expect you to return?” asked Millet.

“When my business is done,” he shot back, without turning around. With that, he left. Millet spent the next few hours wandering the city, buying odds and ends, including a new set of clothes. Once finished, he had a messenger deliver his goods to the inn and headed off to the Malt and Mane.

As he sat listening to a bard spin a tale to the music of a lute, he scanned the common room for signs of Lee but to his disappointment there were none. He knew that there was the possibility he had arrived ahead of him. The river was swift and the vessel had only made two stops before arriving in Baltria, and those were only to offload a small portion of their cargo and take on fresh water.

Just as he was about to give up and head back, the barmaid handed him a folded slip of parchment. He glanced around but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Slowly he opened the paper. Meet me for the best seafood stew you've ever tasted. There was no signature.

Millet left the inn and made his way to The Plank Walker’s Café. Once there, he scanned the place for a familiar face but saw none. He took a table near the edge of the deck so he could see people as they approached, and ordered a bowl of seafood stew.

A few minutes went by when a tall, slender man with dark, shoulder-length curls that fell about his shoulders, walked to the table. His sharp, angular features and soft, white, cotton outfit, spoke of wealth and breeding. A small dagger sheathed in a jeweled scabbard hung from his belt and he carried a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Millet, I presume,” said the man. His voice was deep and masculine, yet smooth and pleasing. “May I join you?”

Millet tensed but held out his hand, motioning for him to sit. “And you are?”

“You may call me Yanti,” he replied, bowing his head. “It was I that sent you the note at the Malt and Mane.”

“How do you know me?” Millet shifted in his seat.

Yanti smiled “My good man. I'm the enemy... so to speak.” Millet started to rise.

“Don't fret,” said Yanti. “You are in no danger... yet. But that could change should you leave before I've had a conversation with you.”

Millet slowly sat back down. “What do you want?”

“From you, nothing,” said Yanti. “Lord Starfinder, however... from him I want a great deal.”

“You waste your breath, Yanti,” said Millet. “I have no idea where he is. Even if I did, I would not tell you.”

Yanti covered his mouth, laughing quietly. “My good man. I would not presume to think you would betray your master. No. I only want to convey my deepest respect and admiration, in the hopes that we can come to an agreement.”

Millet's face hardened. “If you think Lee Starfinder will come to terms with you or any servant of the Dark One, you're mistaken.”

“That may be,” said Yanti. “But I would have you deliver my message none-the-less. And to show you my good will, I will make no move against you or his son... Jacob, I believe his name is.”

This sent chills down Millet's spine. “If I were you, I would leave Lord Starfinder and his family alone.”

“I know how formidable Starfinder is,” Yanti responded, with a tinge of amusement. “But, rest assured, I mean his family no harm. In fact, I wish to reunite them, if only he can be reasonable.”

“Then deliver your message and be gone,” said Millet, his fear turning into anger.

Yanti laughed softly, unimpressed with Millet's display. “Simply tell him that should he decide that his wife and son are more important to him than a race of Gods that have long abandoned this world, he can leave this conflict behind. We promise to allow him and his family to live in peace. They can even return to his home in Hazrah, if that's what he would like. In fact, we can ensure that his remaining years are quite rewarding.”

“Is that all?” asked Millet.

“One more thing,” Yanti continued. “Should he consider an unwise course, remind him that his wife resides in the court of the Reborn King.”

“I will see to it he receives your message,” said Millet. He tossed a couple of coppers on the table and rose to his feet. “You'll pardon me. I've lost my appetite.”

Yanti smiled and nodded. “It was a pleasure.”

Millet's face was stone as he turned and headed back to the inn.

Yanti watched him as he disappeared into the distance. He waved for the serving girl to bring more wine. Just then, Salmitaya walked up and took a seat.

“Did it go as you'd hoped?” she asked.

“It went as I expected,” Yanti replied. “And I expect you will do your part as instructed, my love.”

“You can depend on me, my lord,” she replied.

“Considering the dangers involved, you seem at ease. You aren't thinking about betrayal, are you?” His eyes darkened.

“I will do exactly as you have told me,” she said. “You have no need to worry about my loyalty to you, or my commitment to our cause.”

“That's good to hear. I would hate to think of you sharing the fate of Lord Starfinder.”

“What fate is that?” she asked.

Yanti flashed an angry look. “You know perfectly well not to ask these questions.” Salmitaya lowered her eyes.