“Tom Badgerlock,” I replied. “And Svanja’s father. We’re looking for Hap and Svanja.”
Jinna opened only the top half of her door, a clear indication of how far I had fallen in her regard. She looked at Master Hartshorn more than me. “They’re not here,” she said briskly. “Nor have I ever permitted them to spend time in each other’s company here, though there’s little I can do to stop Svanja from knocking at my door and asking for Hap.” She swung her reproachful gaze to me. “I haven’t seen Hap at all this evening.” She crossed her arms on her chest. She didn’t need to say she had warned me it would come to this. The flat accusation was there in her eyes. I suddenly could not meet her stare. I’d avoided seeing her since the night she had glimpsed Laurel in my arms. That I had never offered her the courtesy of an explanation shamed me. It was an act both cowardly and juvenile.
“I’d best go look for him, then,” I muttered, suddenly abashed before her. I felt as shamed for my own behavior as my son’s. I’d hurt Jinna and tonight I suddenly faced that. The truth speared me. It hadn’t been for any lofty moral reasons. It had been because I was afraid, because I had known she would become a facet of my life that I could not control. Just as Hap was now.
“Damn him! Damn him for ruining my girl!” Hartshorn suddenly raged. He turned and stumbled away into the swirling snowfall. At the edge of the light from Jinna’s door, he looked back to shake a fist at me. “You keep him away from her! You keep your demon-blasted son away from my Svanja!” Then he turned. In a few steps, he was beyond the range of the light from Jinna’s door, vanished into blackness and despair. I longed to follow him, but I felt caught in the light.
I took a deep breath. “Jinna, I need to find Hap tonight. But I think—”
“Well. We both know you won’t find him. Or Svanja. I doubt they want to be found this night.” She paused, but before I could even draw breath, she said evenly, “And I think Rory Hartshorn is right. You should keep Hap away from Svanja. For all our sakes. But how you’re going to do it, I don’t know. Better you had never let your son run wild like this, Tom Badgerlock. I hope it isn’t too late for him.”
“He’s a good boy,” I heard myself say. It sounded feeble, the excuse of a man who has neglected his son.
“He is. That is why he deserves better from you. Good night, Tom Badgerlock.”
She shut the door, shutting away her light and warmth. I stood in the dark, with the cold sweeping past me. Snowflakes were finding their way down my collar.
Something warm bumped my ankles. Open the door. The cat wants in.
I stooped to stroke him. Cold snow spangled his coat but the warmth of his body leaked through it. You’ll have to find your own way in, Fennel. That door doesn’t open for me anymore. Farewell.
Stupid. You just have to ask. Like this. He stood up on his hind legs and clawed diligently at the wood as he yowled.
The sound of his demands followed me as I strode off into the darkness and cold. Behind me, I heard the door open for an instant and knew he had been admitted. I walked back up to Buckkeep Castle, envying a cat.
Chapter XI
TIDINGS FROM BINGTOWN
“Past Chalced, keep your sails spread.” This old saying is based on sound observations. Once your ship is past the Chalcedean ports and their cities, old as evil itself, spread sail and move swiftly. Aptly named are the Cursed Shores to the south of Chalced. Water from the Rain River will rot your casks and burn your crew’s throats. Fruit from those lands scalds the mouth and breaks sores on the hands. Beyond the Rain River, take on no water that comes from inland. In a day it will go green, and in three it seethes with slimy vermin. It will foul your casks so they can never be used again. Better to keep the crew on short rations than to put ashore there for any reason. Not even to weather a storm or take a day’s rest at anchor in an inviting cove is safe. Dreams and visions will poison your sailors’ minds, and your ship will be plagued with murder, suicide, and senseless mutiny. A bay that beckons you to safe harbor may seethe with savage sea serpents before the night is over. Water maidens come to the top of the waves, to beckon with bare breasts and sweet voices, but the sailor that plunges in for that pleasure is dragged under to be food for their sharp-toothed mates hiding below the water.
The only safe harbor along all that stretch is the city of Bingtown. The anchorage is good there, but beware of their docks where ensorcelled ships may call down curses on your own vessels of honest wood. Best to avoid their docks. Drop your hook in Trader Bay and row in, and likewise have goods brought out to your ship. Water and food from this port can be trusted, though some of the wares from their shops are uncanny and may bring ill luck to a voyage. In Bingtown, all manner of goods may be bought and sold, and the trade goods from there are unlike any others in the wide world. Yet keep your crew close by your vessel, and let only the master and mate go ashore and amongst the townsfolk. Better for common ignorant sailors not to touch foot to that soil, for it can entrance men of lesser mind and intellect. Truly is it said of Bingtown, “If a man can imagine it, he can find it for sale there.” Not all that a man can imagine is wholesome to a man, and much is sold there that is not. Beware too of the secret people of that land, sometimes seen by night. It brings on the foulest of bad luck should one of the Veiled Folk of that place cross a captain’s path when he is returning to his ship. Better to spend that night on shore, and return to your ship the next day, than to sail immediately after such an ill omen.
