The Waterless Sea by Kate Constable Read Free Book Online Page B

would be no better than the twins’ . Perhaps worse.’
    Calwyn was contrite. ‘I’ m sorry, Heben.’ She and Mica exchanged a look, and when Mica sang up a wind for the sails, she sang so softly that Heben could barely hear the music weaving through the breeze.
    The next day they came to Teril. At Heben’ s insistence, they entered the port without the aid of Mica or Calwyn’ s chantment.
    Tonno grumbled, ‘It’ s a long time since I had to rely on my skills alone to bring Fledgewing into harbour.’
    â€˜It’ ll do you good,’ teased Calwyn. ‘We don’ t want our chief sailor’ s skills to get rusty.’
    Halasaa moved about the boat in his deft, silent way, hauling in canvas and loosening ropes before Tonno could give the order. Tonno had taught him well, and he was almost as at home on the waves as he had been in the dense forests of the Wildlands. But as soon as they drew near the teeming jetties of the port, Heben asked him to go below. ‘Once we reach the Court, we will dress you as a foreign servant. There are many such there, and no one will look at you twice. But here you will be conspicuous, until we find you some proper desert dress.’
    Halasaa merely bowed his head and disappeared into the cabin.
    Once at dock, Heben did not want Calwyn and Mica to go ashore and help purchase the supplies they would need. ‘The ladies will find it dull and dusty work,’ he said, with a bow. ‘And the town is too rough a place for women.’
    Mica’ s eyes flashed. ‘You can’ t stop me comin, just you try!’ ‘You expect me to carry all the parcels, do you? Like one of those beasts of yours?’ Tonno glowered.
    â€˜Surely it wouldn’ t hurt if Mica and I came along,’ said Calwyn. ‘We’ re not so delicate that we can’ t deal with a little dust.’ Heben’ s gallantry was beginning to grate on her nerves.
    Heben pressed his lips together and gave another of his stiff bows. ‘Very well, my lady,’ he said, but he was not pleased. He shepherded his small band of foreigners around the marketplace, relieved that they attracted less attention than he expected. The market was a shabby, depressing place, buzzing with flies, and inhabited by skinny dogs who slunk along the streets, tongues lolling. It was very hot. The stallholders were slumped beneath their drab awnings, and their goods were shoddy. There were beggars on every corner; one old man looked up pleadingly at Calwyn, and shook the stumps where his hands had been. Calwyn was horrified. ‘Heben! Look!’
    Heben threw the old man a swift glance. ‘He must have been injured in the mines.’
    â€˜Can we give him something?’
    â€˜You give to one, they’ ll all be crowding round us for the rest of the day. Leave him. They’ re all thieves. Some of them cut off their hands on purpose, so they can have a lazy life as beggars.’ And he hurried on.
    Calwyn was sorry she’ d asked to come. Even Mica was uncharacteristically subdued, and trailed behind while Heben doled out coins from his diminishing store to buy food, tents, waterskins and cooking pans, and long dust-coloured robes.
    â€˜But what are these?’ Calwyn said when Heben loaded a new bundle of cloth into her arms. She fingered the bright swathes of embroidered cloth, in every colour of the rainbow.
    â€˜Court clothes, for you,’ said Heben.
    Calwyn slid the silken lengths between her hands. The cloths were beautiful, without a doubt, but she was not looking forward to wrapping herself in these heavy sheets.
    There was one last thing to buy. Heben led them to a silversmith’ s, and had the man make a copy of his Clan medallion.
    â€˜When we come to the Palace, you must wear it all the time,’ he explained to Calwyn. ‘Otherwise no one will believe that you are one of the Cledsec.’ They had agreed that Calwyn should