“Sharp as ever!” Corayne echoed, fighting a smirk.
Indeed two Tyri galleys were past Antero Point, but a third ship crawled through the shallows, in the shadow of the cliffs. Difficult to spot, for those who did not know where to look. Or those paid to look elsewhere.
Corayne left no coin behind for the half-blind watchman of Balliscor, but she dropped the usual bribes at the towers of Macorras and Alcora. An alliance bought is still an alliance made, she thought, hearing her mother’s voice in her head.
She gave the same to the gatekeeper at the Lemarta walls, though the port city was small, the gate already open, Corayne and Kastio well known. Or at least my mother is well known, well liked, and well feared in equal measure.
The gatekeeper took the coin, waving them onto familiar streets overgrown with lilac and orange blossoms. They perfumed the air, hiding the smells of a crowded port, somewhere between small city and bustling town. Lemarta was a bright place, the stone buildings painted in the radiant colors of sunrise and sunset. On a summer morning, the market streets crowded with tradespeople and townsfolk alike.
Corayne offered smiles like her coin: an item to trade. Like always, she felt a barrier between herself and the throng of people, as if she were watching them through glass.
Farmers drove their mules in from the cliffs, carting vegetables, fruits, and grain. Merchants shouted their wares in every language of the Long Sea. Dedicant priests walked in lines, their robes dyed in varying shades to note their orders. The blue-cloaked priests of Meira were always most numerous, praying to the goddess of the waters. Sailors waiting for a tide or a wind already idled in seden courtyards, drinking wine in the sunshine.
A port city was many things, but above all a crossroads. While Lemarta was insignificant in the scheme of the world, she was nothing to sneer at. She was a good place to drop anchor.
But not for me, Corayne thought as she quickened her pace. Not one second longer.
A maze of steps took them down to the docks, spitting Corayne and Kastio out onto the stone walkway edging the water. The climbing sun flashed brilliantly off the turquoise shallows. Lemarta stared down at the harbor, hunched against the cliffs like an audience in an amphitheater.
The ships from Tyriot were newly docked, anchored on either side of a longer pier jutting out into deeper water. A mess of crew crowded the galleys and the pier, spilling over the planks. Corayne caught snatches of Tyri and Kasan passed from deck to dock, but most spoke Paramount, the shared language of trade on both sides of the Long Sea. The crews unloaded crates and live animals for a pair of Siscarian harbor officers, who made a great show of taking notes for their tax records and dock duties. Half a dozen soldiers accompanied them, clad in rich purple tunics.
Nothing of spectacular quality or particular interest, Corayne noted, eyeing the haul.
Kastio followed her gaze, squinting out beneath his eyebrows. “Where from?” he asked.
Her smirk bloomed as quickly as an answer. “Salt from the Aegir mines,” Corayne said, all confidence. “And I bet you a cup of wine the olive oil is from the Orisi groves.”
The old sailor chuckled. “No bet—I’ve learned my lesson more than once,” he replied. “You’ve a head for this business, none can deny that.”
She faltered in her steps, her voice sharpening. “Let’s hope so.”
Another harbor officer waited at the end of the next pier, though the berth was empty. The soldiers with him looked half-asleep, wholly uninterested. Corayne fixed her lips into her best smile, one hand in her satchel with her fingers closed around the final and heaviest pouch. The weight was a comfort, as good as a knight’s shield.
Though she’d done this a dozen times, still her fingers trembled. A good day to begin a voyage, she told herself again. A good day to begin.
Over the officer’s shoulder, a ship came into harbor, sailing out of the cliff shadow. There was no mistaking the galley, its deep purple flag a beacon. Corayne’s heartbeat drummed.
“Officer Galeri,” she called, Kastio close behind her. Though neither wore fine clothes, clad in light summer tunics, leather leggings, and boots, they walked the pier like royalty. “Always a pleasure to see you.”
Galeri inclined his head. The officer was almost three times her age—nearing fifty years old—and spectacularly ugly. Still, Galeri was popular with the women of Lemarta, mostly because his pockets were well lined with bribes.
“Domiana Corayne, you know the pleasure is mine,” he replied, taking her outstretched hand with a flourish. The pouch passed from her fingers to his, disappearing into his coat. “And good morning to you, Domo Kastio,” he added, nodding at the old man. Kastio glowered in reply “More of the usual this morning? How fares the Tempestborn?”