Taken from the First Appendix to the Transactions of the

Merchant Venturers of Col,

Volume 8,

126th Year of the City’s Freedom.

My esteemed brothers in commerce,

This leaves me well and in hopeful spirits, and I hope it may find you in health and prosperity. You will be surprised at this, I do not doubt, given my last missile from the chaos of Triolle.

So, to business. In the debit columns, I will not disguise from you that we face heavy losses. The port at Triolle Bay has been comprehensively sacked by the troops of the Duke of Draximal. The goods and profits of this year’s trade between Triolle and Aldabreshi are now being gambled in the camps and sold to adorn the troopers’ grubby trollops. Moreover, this war of theirs is no mere summer storm; if anyone tells you it will all be settled by Solstice, insist on recording odds at a gaming-house and take that fool for every Mark he has in his strongbox. It may have started with ambition for the throne but it is turning into a struggle for the most fertile land, access to the rivers and the sea, say what you will. I cannot see how Parnilesse will escape being dragged in, and with that the last decent anchorage this side of Tormalin will be no safer than a nest of pirates. Commerce in Lescar is as dead as a man with a sword through his neck.

How then can I be hopeful? Let me explain. This finds me in a tillage called Relshaz, no more than a collection of muddy huts on the delta of the Rel itself. Thus far the place has but one thing to recommend it: its position. Consider the advantages of a port so situated; the Rel is navigable for sizeable vessels as far as Abray and barges could penetrate even further, virtually to Dalasor. A settlement here could draw trade from most of eastern Caladhria, if the word were circulated discreetly, and should commerce in Lescar revive at all such a port would be ideally placed to garner the business and the ensuing profits.

We must be bold and move fast or we will lose this chance to control the future of trade in the Caladhrian Gulf. My sources tell me Lord Metril of Attar Bay wants to extend his anchorage and Lord Sethel of Pinerin plans to build a series on jetties along the Ferl Roads. Both proposals will be put to the Parliament at the Equinox Sessions and in this instance I do not think we will see the interminable talking in circles that those gentry commonly excel in. Both Lords have been working hard to make sure they get the backing to vote them permission; a cunning stroke has been to cooperate. I will do what I can to loose a fox in their hen-run and, in the meantime, you must find the means to start construction of a harbor before the winter storms set in. I know it will go hard with us, to find such coin in this leanest of years, but we must look beyond short-term losses to the long-term gains.

Your partner in trade,

Jeram Gilthand

No one could decide what to make of Nyle’s interest in my sword, but I was soon confident we’d left that problem behind along with the mule train when we took the road west of Adrulle. This was partly to cut off a long curve of the river and partly to take in a stretch of the Linneyway, to see if we could get any scent of the second group of possible Elietimm. There was no word at any of the inns and we concluded they must have been heading for Ensaimin, if they had in fact been Ice Islanders. I didn’t forget them but I certainly reckoned I could put them to the back of my mind.

Our route took us through a succession of those tedious Caladhrian market towns that become hard to tell apart after a while. Shiv’s mood improved as the mages spent their evenings dabbling in their scrying bowl and determined the Elietimm that had robbed Viltred were still heading toward Relshaz. The weather grew steadily warmer as we moved south; we found ourselves riding through the heat of the days in shirt sleeves and Viltred’s mood improved markedly as the sun soothed his aches and pains. The recent generation’s trend for enclosure had started in southern Caladhria and the land was increasingly regulated and confined with hedges and walls, the stock sleeker and stronger as a result. We saw fewer cows and cornfields and more sheep and vineyards, the towns grew large enough to have slums and beggars and traffic on the road became more frequent. I could almost have convinced myself I was on the road running south down the lee of the mountains toward home.

My own mood improved as the weather and the countryside reminded me more and more of home. With Livak’s assistance I was sleeping more soundly but had no more idea of her feelings, both of us preferring good sex to any potentially unsatisfactory conversation about what the future might hold for us. Finally the dank, murky breath of the great mouth of the Rel was carried over a rise on the morning breeze, a blend of mud, rotting wood, weed and fish. We crested the line of hills that dominated the shore to look down on the glistening city of Relshaz, a dense accumulation of whitewashed buildings clustered securely on a delta between the broad black arms of the river. The silt-laden waters from the hills of Caladhria and the plains of Lescar swept around the city and carried a great dark stain out into the shimmering sea. In the late spring sun the Gulf of Lescar was blue as a bankfisher’s wing as the waves rolled in from the indistinct islands of the Aldabreshi hovering on the far horizon. I drew a deep breath and relished the tang of salt in the air; it didn’t have the clean sharpness of my own rugged ocean coast, but at least it was the scent of the sea.

I soon lost even that suggestion of open waters as we followed the track winding down from the hills. The Spice Road and the River Road meet here in a broad trampled marketplace where some traders opt to do their buying and selling rather than spending time and coin taking one of the ferries to the city. We pressed through the throng of men, mules, oxen and carts with some difficulty, a handful of languages clamoring around us, dust rising to catch in our throats, taking knocks from all sides.

“Let me go first.” Shiv had his own evil-minded horse firmly in hand now Halice had taken the stitches out of his arm and I let him take the lead gladly. The thick-necked beast shouldered a brace of neat-footed mules aside and I slipped in behind, ignoring their owner’s oaths. I was glad Viltred’s horse did not have the brain to be unsettled by the chaos as I saw Livak having to take the harness horse by the bridle to help get it moving. Halice snapped the whip over its ears and it skipped forward reluctantly.

“How long will we have to wait for a ferry?” I shouted above the racket as we drew to a halt by the weed-draped wooden walkway, now beached on the noisome mud as the tide drew the river down into the central channel.

Livak shrugged. “Anything up to a full chime, probably.”

As she spoke the sound of bells carried across the turbid waters.

“I do like to be somewhere with proper clocks and regular chimes,” she commented. I had to agree my own city-bred blood preferred it.

As it turned out, we crossed the river in less time than I had feared, for once I had the measure of the press of traffic I slipped ahead to greet the lading-master, giving him a warm handshake with a Caladhrian Mark in it. When a carrier’s coach rattled down the walkway to the broad, flat deck of a ferry, leaving just enough room for us and our gig, he waved us on ahead of a very put-out wine merchant.

“That was lucky,” Shiv commented.

“No such thing.” I shook my head. “The trick is knowing how things get done on a dockside.”