The Mists of Sorrow_ Book Seven of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [102]
After leaving the others behind in the alley by the inn, he got to thinking about what if Azku doesn’t speak his language. He almost turned around to take Reilin with him but then remembered that the note the boy had delivered was written in northern. Plus, it did say come alone. He hopes Ohan back at the Order of the Scarlet Sword mentioned that few of them spoke the Empire’s tongue.
He counts off the streets he passes and when he comes to the sixth intersection, takes the street branching off to the left. It takes him some time to traverse the length of the street to the park, but the street finally ends and the park unfolds before him.
If it wasn’t for the distraction of his worry about Tinok, he might’ve been able to enjoy it more. Several cobblestone paths wind through the trees and grass, benches are spaced in such a way that those who decide to rest for awhile, may do so in private. Quite an unusual sight to find here in the desert.
Just past where the street ends is a large open area from which the paths through the park begin. A lone musician is setting up to play there in the open area. He puts a bowl down on the cobblestones, takes the guitar-like instrument in hand and soon has a lively melody coursing through the park.
Jiron ignores him and scans the park for any sign of red lanterns. Not seeing anything immediately, he decides to take the center path through the park. At some point it has to intersect or come close to the branching of the river that is supposed to flow through here. Then it will be easy enough to follow the water until he comes across the bridge.
Stepping quickly, he enters the park. Lights begin to flare into being as two men move from lamp pole to lamp pole, lighting the lanterns hanging there. The sight of them lighting the lanterns gives him the thought that perhaps the lanterns on the bridge haven’t been lit yet. Whether they have or not, he still feels confident that he can find them.
The path he’s on doesn’t go in a straight line, rather it winds first this way then that in a leisurely progression through the trees. When at last the smell of water comes to him, he stops and tries to ascertain which direction it’s coming from. Before he can determine which way, the sound of water running over rocks can be heard coming from his right.
Moving off the path, he cuts through a small copse of trees. When he exits the other side, the small branch of the river appears before him. He looks first one way then the other and spies a bridge spanning the water off to his left. No red lights come from the area, but then none of the other lanterns in the area have been lit yet.
He can see one of the lantern lighters making his way along the cobblestone path leading to the bridge. Light after light flares to life as the man works his way closer, lighting each lantern in turn. When the man at last lights the lantern hanging from the pole just before the bridge, Jiron holds his breath. If those lanterns there on the bridge don’t burn red, he’s going to have some words with Reilin.
The man approaches the bridge and brings his long stick with a burning candle on the top toward the lantern. Jiron watches from the trees as the candle enters the lantern. Then a burst of red light appears and he sighs in relief. This is the place.
He’s not exactly sure, but he thinks he may have a half hour left before the time of the meeting. Scanning the park, he finds one of the benches that’s close to the bridge. Fortunately it’s currently not occupied. Facing the bridge as it is, it will afford him a good view of whoever crosses it. Sitting down, he settles in to wait.
“What’s he doing?” Stig asks.
“Waiting, of course,” explains Miko. “There’s still some time before the hour is up.”
“Suppose no one shows?” asks Aleya. Already she has taken her bow and quiver of arrows from out of her cloak. The quiver is slung over her shoulder while her bow is in hand, strung and ready just in case.
“Go back to the Cracked Ladle I