Water splashed against the side of the boat. They were nearing land, and there was a steady flow of waves. Alys lay back against the gunwales and let the rhythmic rocking fill her with a sense of relaxation. Rest was, after all, best taken where one found it, and a sea trip to Vahal Island was definitely best used for reserving strength.
Their destination had been simple enough to choose. Derek had originally wanted to go to Valhalla, and "Neiryuka" was close enough to Ryuka that Alys figured he'd just taken a teleportation shortcut. Of course, there was always the chance the thief had always intended to teleport out to some other location but left the Valhalla clue as a red herring for pursuers, but that would have been overcomplicating things–and Derek not taking the boat would have negated the clue's worth as a decoy anyway. No, Valhalla was it, she and Galf had agreed.
The scar-faced boatman who'd been going to take Derek over had agreed to the change of passengers. He'd even accepted half price, since Galf and Alys were hunters on legitimate business rather than a crook negotiating on a "no questions asked" basis. The man's name had turned out to be Every and his boat, the Dart, was a trim little craft that had made the crossing in good time despite his passengers' near-complete lack of nautical skill.
"So you've never been to Valhalla, Galf?" Alys repeated. It had surprised her when he'd announced they couldn't follow by telepipe, because it was the first time since she'd met him that they'd encountered anywhere the veteran hunter hadn't been.
"Nope. Never been there, never wanted to go there, never had any reason until now to change my mind. You might have noticed I'm not exactly the best sailor."
"Now, don't sell yourself short," Every called from his place at the tiller. "You may have been green about the gills since we set sail, but you only lost your breakfast the once, which is more than I can say for most seasick lubbers."
"That's the matchless courage of Galf the Thunder Sword," teased Alys, who'd of course been completely unaffected by the Dart's motion.
"Do you have an apprentice, Every?" Galf groaned.
"No, but a couple of my brother's boys help me out on the nets when we go out after fish. Family's even worse; they don't even pretend to respect you."
"Good; you can sympathize, then. You can help me throw her overboard if I'm too seasick to do it."
Alys stuck her tongue out at him.
"You do know what we can expect when we get there, right?"
Galf shrugged.
"Pretty much. Valhalla started out as a pirate base from which to attack northern sea lanes and launch raids. Since no town has any kind of organized navy, piracy has always been a problem."
"That's what my father always said. At least with the land-bound bandits there would be the town guard and local militias, plus the Hunter's Guild, to help the merchants deal with the problem." She and Galf shared a look, both thinking of the highwaymen's attack on the Brangwin family's last caravan and Galf's rescue of Alys.
"Well, over time it just sort of grew," Galf continued describing the history of Valhalla, getting them past the uncomfortable moment. "Captains of more pirates started using the harbor, and permanent services started opening up shops on shore--taverns, sailmakers, shipwrights, weaponers, brothels, whatever was needed to resupply the ships and amuse the crews. Less-than-scrupulous traders opened up shop to get their hands on pirate loot and have it smuggled ashore for resale. Eventually it just got big enough that it was a legitimate town. The honest business outnumbers the pirate trade these days, I hear, but Valhalla is still a hive of crime. They'll turn a blind eye to any pirate that doesn't prey on Valhallan ships or trade, and there's very little in the way of formal law."
"So the authorities aren't going to be too concerned about a man who committed a crime in Zema," Alys concluded.
"Nope."
"'Course, that cuts both ways," Every pointed out. "It also means no one's going to care very much if a couple of hunters grab a wanted man and haul him home without taking too much care to observe the legal formalities."
The scar-faced boatman steered the Dart in towards the harbor. The sprawl of houses and shops along the waterfront came into view, steadily becoming distinguishable as individual buildings among the mass.
"How odd," Alys remarked. "It seems different, somehow, than most towns. Or is that just because I'm aware of its reputation and being tricked by my mind?"
"It's 'cause it's spread out," Galf said. "Most towns this size are walled, and even villages tend to be clustered together, close to the communal well." Krup, a lakeside village set on several islets as well as the mainland, was probably the most similar place Alys could think of. The strong smells of tar and fish, supported by the ordinary odors of any town, began to mingle in the hunters' nostrils with the salt of the sea.
The boat drew up to one of several short piers and Alys helped Every tie it up alongside.
"You've got two days," the boatman said. "After that, I'll have to cast off for the mainland."
"I can't say how long we're going to be," Galf said. "If you have to wait longer, we could increase your fee for your time."
Every shook his head.
"Sorry, Galf. It ain't that your money isn't good, but I've got to get back to do my bit for my family, crew, and village."
"Ah, I understand. Okay, then, if we have to stay any longer we'll find our own way back. I'm sure there's a telepipe for sale somewhere in Valhalla."
If anyone had anything more to say, they were interrupted by the clumping of heavy boots as a man strolled out to the end of the dock. He wore a green tunic and black leggings, and had a black scarf tied around his head marked with the death's-head device Argus had talked about. He was grinning beneath his drooping moustache, though Alys wished he wasn't quite so happy as his smile showed off his lack of respect for basic dental hygiene.
"Good day ter ya, an' welcome ter Valhalla," he addressed them. "This do be a fine-lookin' vessel, an' right glad I am ter sees it tied up ter the dock. Especially seein's as how I be the excise man."
He tapped the buckle of his weapon-laden belt; it was copper and bore the same seal as the scarf, only the skull was facing to the left. Alys glanced questioningly at Every.
"Oh, yes," the fisherman said, not bothering to be subtle. "The copper buckle is what passes for a guard's uniform around here."
Alys remembered how Galf had called the skull headband an "unofficial" insignia of the Valhalla militia. The buckle, then, was the sign of the official law.
"Now that yer have established me bona fides," the excise man went on, "we be havin' two payment plans concernin' the dockin' fees, as best suits yer convenience. Yer kin pay a fee o' twenty-five mesetas fer tyin' up an registerin' yer boat, yer port o' origin, an yer cargo--which in this case do seems ter be yer passengers. Or"--his smile grew a bit wider--"if yer prefers, there be our deluxe service at a cost o' one hundred mesetas."
"Just what does this 'deluxe' service consist of?"
"Why, lass, fer such honored guests o' this fair town, it'd be rude fer me ter be askin' a lot o' pryin' questions about names and cargoes, now wouldn't it?"
Oh. She should have known.
"Well, that's nice, but we--" Alys began, but Galf cut her off.
"We'll be glad to take advantage of your deluxe service," he said, and fished a handful of twenty-meseta pieces out of his money pouch.
"Thanks yer kindly, an' enjoy yer stay in Valhalla." The guard pocketed the money and strolled off, whistling tunelessly. Galf glowered at Alys, then climbed the wooden ladder built into the pier up to the top of the dock. She followed, still confused.
"Alys, I'm glad you're bright and confident, but for sands' sake when in doubt let me do the talking. You're not a full-fledged partner yet."
"Sorry, Galf. I'll try to wait for my cue next time."
"See that you do. I'm glad to see you've got an independent mind, 'cause you'll never make a hunter without it, but you still ought to follow my lead--especially when you're about to do the wrong thing."
Their boots clunked on the weathered planking as they walked down the pier.
"Why was it the wrong thing, Galf? We're not smugglers or fugitives; we're on legitimate business. Why throw away seventy-five good meseta for nothing?"
"'Cause it isn't for nothing. Derek's bound to suspect we're coming after him, presuming he's not an idiot, and if he sees the name of the boat he originally hired in the town's port records, he's going to get a tad suspicious, I figure. Not to mention that we were pretty free with our names when we had him trussed up. Now, if his ear's to the ground he'll find us soon enough, but I say why give him a head start?"
"That sounds...sneaky."
The veteran hunter grinned at her.
"That's the fun of a bounty-hunting job. You get to do a whole different kind of hunting. The principle isn't anything new to you, though. Think of it like approaching a monster from downwind so it can't smell you coming. We just have to suit our methods to the senses our quarry uses to try spotting us."
Alys nodded, following her mentor's logic. A good hunter had to adapt her approach to the job, be flexible. Which in turn was why Galf kept insisting she learn as much as possible, both in varied combat styles and in general knowledge. If her only tool was a shovel, she could only take jobs digging holes.
"So what's our next step?"
"You tell me. Tell me what you see."
Another little test.
"Interesting local color," Alys said sardonically, with a nod towards where a drunk lay sprawled in the middle of the wharfside path. Passerby ignored him; the kinder or more fastidious ones stepped around the body while others just stomped on through, somehow not sprawling over the drunk or crushing him underfoot.
"Alys."
"Sorry." She paused, looking at the crowd. "We don't stick out. There's people from a dozen different towns. Most look like sailors, but plenty aren't. There's even a number of native Motavians, more than you usually see in Parmanian towns."
"Most of them are outcasts. It's a common punishment for criminals who are repeat offenders in Motavian society. They get cut off from that society, from family--not to mention their victims--and have to make their way in the world alone."
"So the Motavians here are all criminals?" she said with distaste.
"Not necessarily. Remember that native culture isn't the same as ours. They have taboos against things we wouldn't blink at, and some things that are crimes in Parmanian towns aren't among Motavians. And some of the people might be families of the outcasts--a spouse that loves the exile enough to join him or her, or perhaps the family was made responsible for keeping one criminal member on the straight and narrow and failed."
"Wait--so they'd exile a whole family for one person's crimes? That's horrible!"
"Like I said, our customs are different. Community is important to native Motavians. Basically it's the family's duty to teach its members right. If one turns into a habitual criminal, the family didn't do its job."
Alys considered that, and thought about how many times a Parmanian criminal had family issues. The natives might have had a point, in certain cases.
"Don't get distracted, though," Galf recalled her mind to the job at hand.
"Right. We pick a dockside inn because if we stay in town we'll stick out as strangers, but on the harbor we're just two more visitors. Since we look reasonably prosperous, we take one of the better ones, on the same principle. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better chance we have of finding Derek before he finds us. And maybe we also skip the middleman and look for the crazy one with green hair Argus mentioned. He's more likely to be important, anyway."
"Good!" Galf said, giving her a clap on the shoulder. "Right on all counts, especially the last bit. What's your reasoning, by the way?"
"Just having the right answer isn't enough, hey? Well, we're assuming the daggers were sold to Preston Cross to get that one gem into the weapons-room, in proximity to the Fire Staff. The jewel sucked the power out of the staff, and Derek stole it back. Both the seller and the thief are linked to the gem's creator, but Derek is an expert professional, making it more likely he's hired talent and not central to the business."
"All true. You missed one point, though."
"Oh?" Alys said, a bit miffed.
"Derek used that Neiryuka technique on the beach. Assuming that a magic-sucking gem and a new technique are connected, he has to be at least part of the scheme, not purely hired help."
"Blast! I should have figured that."
"Otherwise, your reasoning was good. We just need to put it into action. The good news is, if Derek's not just a hired hand, then he's probably still in town even though he was days ahead of us."
"And if he's in town," Alys added, "then we'll find him. I know there's a lot of fishing boats in this job, but I don't want to bring back a 'one that got away' story."