Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [147]
I caught Gilot gaping at a crew of dark-skinned sailors aboard a Jebean ship, busily unloading cargo. "Don't stare," I said, nudging him. "You look provincial."
He shut his mouth with an audible click. "I am provincial, Imri!"
One of the sailors pointed at us, grinning. I daresay we looked like a fine pair of idiots, standing around open-mouthed in the midst of all that activity. I laughed and waved to him, calling out, "Selam!" He mimed surprise at my greeting him in Jeb'ez, then gave a cheerful wave in reply and went about his business.
At length our horses and baggage were unloaded. The Bastard was nearly as unnerved as Gilot, spooking in all directions, threatening to wreak havoc on the quai. After I got him calmed, I hired a porter to lead us to the river wharf.
The wharf was as crowded as the quai. Barges docked beneath the shadow of a guard tower, their captains shouting for business. Throngs of merchants and porters clogged the wharf, dotted with vendors selling food cooked over open-air braziers. Realizing our bellies were rumbling, we paused at one to purchase meat pies wrapped in pastry.
"Name of Elua!" Gilot swallowed with difficulty. "What's in this thing?"
I chewed reflectively. The taste was strange, peppery and pungent, with an underlying saltiness. "I don't know," I said. "I'll ask."
The vendor beamed when I asked him in Caerdicci. "You like it? Only good things, young D'Angeline lord! Minced meat and peppercorns, pine kernels and garum." He chuckled. "The garum is a family recipe, a secret. That's what makes my pies the best."
"Garum?" I asked. Without divulging his family's secret, he told me the essence of what it contained. I nodded my thanks. "Fish paste and herbs," I said to Gilot. "Fermented in the sun for several weeks."
He gagged.
I grinned and took another bite. "Better get used to it. It seems the Tiberians are very proud of their garum."
Once we had eaten, we set about booking passage up the Tiber River. On our porter's advice, I spoke to several barge-captains. I remembered how Kaneka had haggled with the caravan drivers at Majibara, and took her example to heart. When all was said and done, I struck a decent bargain. Along with a few other passengers, we loaded our mounts, our baggage, and ourselves aboard a shallow-bottomed barge. At the tiller, the captain gave the command, and the oarsmen struck out.
We began to glide up the wide, flat expanse of the Tiber River.
The other passengers were a family of Menekhetan merchants, slight and dark, ferrying a cargo of linens. I listened to them speak amongst themselves, catching a word here and there. I wondered if the Tiber disappointed them after the great river of the Nahar.
"You seem different here," Gilot observed.
"Do I?" I smiled. "I feel different. I feel… free." We glided beneath the arch of a massive bridge. I pointed out a carving on one of its supporting columns. Although it was worn, one could still discern the doubled features of a deity, looking at once north and south. "Do you see that, Gilot? Janus, god of bridges and doorways, of crossroads. I'll warrant it was already old when Blessed Elua first trod the earth."
Gilot shuddered. "I'll take my gods with one face, thank you!"
A tickle of foreboding brushed my spine as I remembered Alais' dream. Our barge passed beneath the bridge's shadow, emerging into sunlight. "I'm just saying, look about you, Gilot," I said lightly, gesturing toward the banks. "There is a world beyond Terre d'Ange, and much of it is worthy of admiration."
He looked sourly at me. "What's Tiberium done lately?"
The barge-captain muttered somewhat in Caerdicci about D'Angeline snobbery and spat into the river. I watched his sputum swirl in the oars' wake.
"Plenty,"