A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [76]
From the moment the troupe landed, Jill hated Anmurdio. While Orystinna was every bit as hot, it was a dry heat there, thanks to the way the mountains channeled and deflected the prevailing winds. Anmurdio, the collective name for a group of volcanic islands, caught the tropic-wet winds full in the face. It seemed that if it wasn’t actually raining, then the wind was howling round, or if the air was still for a brief while, then it became so humid that everyone wished it would rain. The towns—random clusters of wooden houses—sagged in the ever-present mud between stretches of primal jungle. The water wasn’t safe to drink without a good dollop of wine in it; beef was unknown, and bread rare. Yet all of these aggravations might have been bearable if it weren’t for the mosquitoes, drifting in twilight clouds as thick as smoke.
Traveling in heavy wagons would be impossible, but fortunately all the hamlets in the archipelago lay right on the ocean. Swearing and sweating over the expense, Salamander made a bargain with the owner of a little coaster that would just barely hold the troupe. The wagon horses, which Marka loved like pets, had to be stabled at a further cost in the main town—city being far too dignified a word for Myleton Noa—rather than merely sold and abandoned.
Just when all these expensive arrangements were concluded, it began to rain, a dark sodden pour that went on and on and on for three days and washed away the troupe’s remaining coin along with their tempers. In a flood of jokes and compliments Salamander moved from person to person, keeping up morale and stopping fights. As she told him late one night, when they got a moment alone together, Jill had to admire him for it.
“But still,” she remarked. “If you’d only put this much hard work into your studies—”
He busied himself with slapping mosquitoes.
“I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you,” she went on, relentless. “No doubt you’ve lost some ground lately, but now that you’re married and settled, there’s no reason that you couldn’t gain it back.”
“No doubt you’re correct, O Princess of Powers Perilous, as well as accurate, precise, and just plain right, but the times are a bit troubled, not to say noisy, with all of us packed into this stinking inn together, for concentration. At the moment, the only dweomer I feel like working would be a bit of weather magic, to drive away this wretched storm, but I know that such would offend your fine-tuned sense of ethics.”
“Things aren’t quite desperate enough for that, yet.”
“True. It doubtless will clear soon enough on its own. The innkeep assures me that this much rain is most unseasonable.”
Apparently the innkeep knew his weather, because they woke on the morrow to clearing skies. In a much improved mood the troupe set about cleaning and readying their equipment for the coming show.
“I hope to every god that I was right about the profit to be made here.” Salamander remarked to Jill. “If I’m not, we are well and truly in the thick of battle without a sword, as the old saying would have it.”
She said nothing, by a great effort of will.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he went on with theatrical gloom. “You might as well berate me and be done with it.”
“I was merely wondering why anyone bothered to settle here in the first place, and then, in the second, why they bother to stay.”
“Pearls.” All at once he grinned. “Pearls both black and white, mother of pearl and fine shells of all sorts, the best and