The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [135]
We came to the end of the lane and stopped in dismay, for it ended at an enormous central square. Here people swirled and butted one another like goats in a pen. I could hear laughter and strains of music, and the smells of food and warmed drinks wafted to our noses.
“It’s a moon fair!” Pavo said, slapping his forehead. I laughed aloud in relief. That was the reason for the number of people waiting to come into the city. And the people of whom we had asked directions were strangers, too.
Avra managed to take a turn just inside the square, and we halted the cart in a quiet byway. A foul stench filled the air.
“What is that?” Kella asked in a disgusted voice.
“Seaweed,” Jik said with a grin. “We must be near the wharves.”
“Fancy having an inn near such a smell,” Kella muttered. Then she noticed me climbing down. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll have a look for the inn on foot. It will be easier than trying to maneuver the cart.”
“I will go with you,” Darga offered, and jumped down.
“Darga will come back alone if anything goes wrong. If he does come back without me, go back out of the city and wait for me where we camped last night,” I said.
Kella and Jik looked aghast, and I laughed. “Nothing will happen, but we must have a plan just in case.” They looked only slightly reassured.
I set off, ignoring the slight pain in my feet. The gypsy caravan, the raft, and the cart meant I had done little walking, and they were much better, though still tender. I hoped I would not have to walk too far on them. I was glad of Darga’s company, though once or twice I noticed people looking at him so oddly that I wondered if I was breaking some city law, letting him walk unchained.
I looked around, trying to see someone who appeared to belong in Aborium. Spoting an old woman struggling with a load of washing down an alley, I hurried to catch up, hoping kindness would beget kindness.
“Mother, let me help you,” I offered.
She gave me a long measuring look before letting me take one of the handles. “ ’Tis good of ye, sure enough,” she said. “I dinna mean to be so slow at takin’ yer offer, but a moon fair dinna improve manners, an’ a helpin’ hand is rare at any time. What be yer name, lass?” she asked, squinting at me.
“Elspeth,” I said.
“Well, I’m Luma,” she said cheerfully. “I live just round th’ next corner. I went out to gan th’ wash an’ were near swept away wi’ moonies. It gans worse every year,” she added despondently. She prattled on as we walked, complaining bitterly about the damage done to the city during the fairs. At a narrow door, she set down the basket to find her key.
“No doubt it’s been picked from me,” she said, searching all her pockets and folds in a haphazard way. “I’m from th’ highlands. There ye dinna have to lock yer door, but in a city, leavin’ it open is a right invitation to any robber.” At last she found the key. Bidding me help her a little further, she told me to call Darga in.
“Things have a way of disappearin’ in Aborium,” she said confidingly.
Stone steps led down directly from the front door. We carried the basket awkwardly between us, down the stairs and into a large, rustic kitchen.
“What an effort,” gasped Luma, panting and fanning her red face. “Ye’ll have a glass of cordial to wet yer whistle?” Taking a squat jug from the cooling cabinet, she poured two mugs. “ ’Tis me own brew I’m givin’ ye, though I’ll thank ye nowt to speak of it after. We are bound by lore to buy th’ Herders’ bitter cordials, an’ makin’ it is an offense.” She drained her glass with relish and watched me drink mine.
“Ye be a moonie? I’m sorry for all that I were sayin’ of them, but it gans on a body’s nerve to have so many at once.”
“I’m a traveler on my way to Murmroth. I only called into Aborium to deliver a message,” I said.
Luma beamed. “An’ I might ha’ guessed it. Ye look to have too much sense to be part of that nonsense. Who do ye carry a message to? ’Tis nowt of my affair or care, but I know most folk hereabout, an’ might save ye some trouble.”
I took a deep breath. “He’s staying at the Inn of the