Larynda asked a few people the whereabouts of the master of the caravan, Laes Harevor. We followed their terse directions to find the turbaned man sitting on a stool, reading a hefty tome. Upon seeing us, he closed his heavy leatherbound book and placed it into a thick metal-bound chest. He smiled first at Larynda before looking at the rest of our group with a quizzical expression.
He was a medium-built man, just past the cusp of his middle years and gone to seed. Laughter marked the corners of his eyes, which sparked with mirth, born from a jest known only to him. His clothes were like those of the Bedouin tribes of the great Sahara, flowing in their elegant cut and stained a faded purple. Hair, once probably thick and dark, was dulled by countless years of traveling under the harsh sun and was beginning to recede. This seemed to add to the length of his face and, combined with his square chin, gave an equine cast to his features.
“Ah, honored sirs. What business have you with the Ravens?” he asked in a surprisingly high tenor.
“You’re Laes Harevor, right!? You look just as fancy as old Ham said you would!” squeaked our little package, her voice muffled by the scarf that covered her mouth.
“So, child, I ask again of you, what business do you have with me?” he asked once more, straightening his back and preening a little over the compliment as he scratched the side of his nose.
Larynda, losing some of her earlier verve, now that she had been asked a direct question, nudged my elbow.
“We seek passage to the city of Al-Lazar. I have been told that your good company often makes the trip. We wish to join you,” I said in my most polite and neutral tone, doing my best to curb my annoyance at the child’s earlier outburst.
“You are welcome to join us, the fee is four silvers a head, and since this young one has impeccable taste I’ll throw in two meals a day. Travel rations, mind you. We leave two days hence,” he offered with a practiced professional smile.
“No, we must leave immediately. It is of the utmost importance. There can be no delay,” I said flatly, my voice tight and forceful.
“Young man, we have business to attend to, here in Ansan. The caravan does not simply move at the whims…” the master of the caravan began to bluster.
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As instructed by Hamsa, and not wanting to waste any more time, I silenced him by pulling out the knotted silken string and showing it to him. The man’s eyes grew wide for a moment in apprehension and surprise, but he quickly gathered himself and settled back into a relaxed mien.
“That is a Timekeeper Knot. I acknowledge this,” he finally delivered, voice monotone as if repeating lines by rote. His hands ran reverently along the length of silk, whispering to himself as if reading some imparted message. The whole exchange had the feeling of a religious ritual. One I was completely ignorant of, no less.
He went to his chest, opened its heavy lid, and felt around inside. In a few moments, he found two small delicate crystal vials, about the size and length of my ring finger, and placed one of them into my right hand. The other, the man simply quaffed down before throwing the silk into a nearby brazier that suddenly gave off an acrid-smelling yellow smoke.
“The blazes… What is this?” I asked incredulously, thinking that I just received some sort of reward from a hidden quest.
“We thank you for the message. It is heard. This is the deliverance,” he answered me, directing my attention to the vial with his eyes.
“What is ‘the deliverance’ that you speak of? You wish for me to drink this potion?” I said, utterly perplexed. Things had moved on from the hallowed air of religious ritual. Now, it felt as if I was part of some theater show. Unfortunately, the script was unknown to me, which served to only heighten my growing irritation.
“Ahh… a gull,” Laes concluded with a tight smile, “Hamsa, ever was his knotwork flawless. Let me explain. All messengers entrusted with such a task are given the slow kiss of the vow-poison upon their skin. Tailored to specification, the poison itself is harmless for a few hours, or even days. In the old days, if the message reached its intended destination, an antidote would have been given. This is simply the antidote to that poison. Pardon me, but if you are truly ignorant of its significance, then… all I can say is that proud old fool was prepared to make you pay the ultimate price if you reneged on whatever promise you had made with him,” he answered, his expression resembling a buck-toothed shark. “The token you have delivered unto me, it was a token the most solemn vow of duty - that imperial messengers of old would do or die to get a message to its destination.”
In shock, I looked to Larynda, who was loitering to my left. Her eyes met mine for a moment, before she looked away in childish shame. She had known of the poison and said nothing.
Kidu grasped the haft of his spear tighter. I knew from the lines of his body and the narrowing of his eyes that he was preparing for violence. Laes’ confession was all the confirmation I needed to know that I had been played by Hamsa. I was getting tired of this world’s childish games, and I felt a sudden surge of the festering frustration that had been growing inside of me.
Sometimes if you did not understand the rules of a game, it was often the best choice to flip the board. I had grown since coming to these cursed lands. I had options.