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CHAPTERONE
What a view,and what a racket.
I stepped off the carriage and winced as the din of the port city of Pernix rang in my ears. Men shouted at one another, ordering their compatriots about for the loading and unloading of cargo from the countless ships of countless sizes. The port was laid out with the central focus around the curve of the large crescent-shaped bay. Low natural sea walls surrounded the bay and left a gap of about a mile for the ships to enter and leave. Docks of various sizes stretched out into the blue-green waters that lapped at the white-sand beaches. Warehouses lined the large wharf, and at this noon hour their doors were wide open for the intake and outtake of the many different goods that were being unloaded by the burly, tanned men. Vendors had set up shop all along the wharf and offered their wares freshly caught or freshly unloaded.
The city proper was a hodgepodge of mansions, stores, and small dwellings. The cheapest were made from the cast-off remains of ships and docks, and the most expensive were white palaces with gardens that overlooked the crystalline waters. They were set out at odd angles according to the angle of the nearest dock so that the streets sometimes crashed into each other at odd spots and then continued on their merry way or merged.
A half dozen wagons rolled past us filled with crates and boxes. Little kids leapt onto the rear board and bounced their way down the city streets until they came to the sweet shops. Women hurried past us with baskets on their arms laden with fresh fish and vegetables of all shapes and sizes. There were even bags of flour and rice, and the sweet aroma of spices filled the air.
“This is. . .chaotic,” I commented to my companion.
Ben smiled down at me. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”
I tilted my head to one side and cleaned out one ear. “Well, it’s certainly telling me I don’t need hearing aids.”
He nodded at the boardwalk of merchant stalls. “Care to have a look around? There may be some sweets from afar.”
My ears perked up at the idea and I grabbed his hand. “Why didn’t you say that sooner?”
I tugged him down the wharf and into the jungle of vendors. There were fewer sweet stalls than at the thunder race, but I found a delightful one that featured strings of gummy bonbons and jars filled with hard candies in all shapes, sizes, and flavors.
While I slobbered over the many varieties of goodies, something else caught Ben’s attention. He wandered over to a nearby stall that featured a wide range of walking sticks. One corkscrew-looking piece of wood in particular captured his focus, and he drew it out of the large pot that held a dozen of the staff.
Curiosity brought me over to him, much to the chagrin of the sweets vendor. I noticed that the black surface of the wood had a smooth shine to it. “What is it?”
“A number of these trees grow around the Rookwood estate,” he told me as he examined the stick.
The middle-aged vendor with a relatively toothless mouth grinned and nodded. “Yes, sir, I know that home. It abuts the Werewald, doesn’t it?”
Ben nodded. “Yes. That is where this stick was gathered, wasn’t it?”
The proprietor bobbed his head. “Just so, sir, just so. It came at a great personal risk to me to fetch it considering the werewolves, but this wood makes for a very pretty stick, don’t you think?”
Ben smiled. “And very expensive, I imagine.”
“I did risk my soul to fetch it,” the vendor reminded him.
“How much?”
“A hundred denari, but I have change to trade for a baron.”
Ben reached into his pocket and drew out his purse. He rifled through it before bringing out the required coinage. He received a few other coins back and the ownership of the stick.
The vendor was all smiles as he bowed his head. “Thank you very much, sir. I hope you enjoy your purchase.”
“So what’s so special about that stick?” I asked him as we wandered back to the eager sweet vendor.
“I remember as a youth venturing into the Werewald for these branches,” he mused as he admired the smooth surface. “This particular tree is called the ‘witch’ because of its bewitchingly smooth bark that masks tiny barbs.”
I squinted at the wood. “I don’t see any barbs.”
“They’ve fortunately been filed off, leaving behind only the-ouch!” He stopped us at the sweet stall and stuck his finger in his mouth.
I blinked at him. “Are you okay?”
He removed his finger and glared at his digit which was slightly puffy. “Mostof the barbs have been filed off.”
I noticed something along one end of the wood. “What are those? They look like tiny holes.”
