After a few minutes of looking at the huge expanse of shimmering water, all of Ilika’s students were becoming dizzy. When he turned his attention to Port Town, they were quite willing to do the same.
The town lay on the inside of a protected cove with only a small opening to the ocean. Stone and wood buildings lined the waterfront where most of the shops clustered, and tiny people carried burdens to and fro. No roads climbed the hillside behind, but little paths connected the many cottages and houses that perched where they could. Several small fishing boats sat at an angle on the sand north of the town. At the lone pier, slaves unloaded a large wooden sailing ship.
“That’s not your ship, Ilika?” Buna asked.
“No, not my ship. Mine is hidden somewhere no one can find it. But something tells me we need to be very careful here.”
“Me too,” Kibi added.
The rest nodded agreement.
“It’s smaller than I was hoping,” Ilika went on. “I only see one inn. Any coming and going by anyone, especially a large group, would be seen by everyone.”
“I see guards,” Rini said.
“I see lots and lots of slaves,” Buna added with a slight shiver.
“On the hill,” Mati said, pointing, “that white building looks like a church.
Could be the same order that’s after us.”
“Magistrate’s house and guard station are right on the edge of town,” Toli pointed out, frowning. “This edge of town.”
A few more minutes of peering with shaded eyes allowed them to identify all the buildings where they hoped to do business, and all the buildings they wanted to avoid.
“Okay, they’re looking for a large group, so we’re not going to give them one. Boro and I will go in for a scouting and shopping trip, and we’ll take empty saddlebags. You’ll all get a turn to go shopping, but I think we have to forget the inn.”
“Just remember,” Kibi said with a worried expression, “they’re looking for you.”
“Yes, but I can protect myself. You’re in charge here. Boro and I will be back by dark. Stay off the roads and well hidden.”
The magistrate’s house, just above the road on the south side of town, was of stone and sturdy timbers, but most other buildings made do with weather-beaten wood and thatch.
Guards with squinting eyes watched Ilika and Boro as they passed beneath the guard station, and again on the waterfront, but the pair of strangers appeared to be nothing more than horsemen who had already stabled their mounts and were in search of supplies.
Some of the buildings facing the wharf had stone fronts to better handle the weather off the sea, and in one of them Boro spotted something they needed. He entered the saddle shop and Ilika followed.
The shopkeeper watched intently as the strangers looked around.
“Here they are!” Boro said, spotting the canvas rucksacks. “But they only have four.”
“How many backs you got?” the shopkeeper asked pointedly.
Boro winced for a moment. “I have brothers. We want to trade in these saddlebags.” He handed his to the man, and Ilika did the same.
“I give you three for each of these.”
“How much are these packs?”
“Silver.”
“Silver!” Boro said in a somewhat contrived tone, “I could get this for five coppers in the capital.”
“This ain’t the capital,” the man shot back.
Boro started to return the rucksack to its peg.
“Eight,” the shopkeeper said dryly.
Boro looked at Ilika and allowed some seconds to pass.
The man sighed. “Seven.”
“I’ll take all four,” Boro said with a slight smile. “So seven times four is . . .
help me, Ilika.”
“I think you can do it.”
Boro started sweating.
“Seven is five and two, is it not?” Ilika hinted.
A moment later a smile came to Boro’s face. “Twenty . . . and . . . eight, twenty-eight! Minus six for the saddlebags . . . twenty-two.”
The shopkeeper had to do the math for himself, so they utilized the time to look over the other merchandise. Boro noticed the man counting out the proper number of copper coins of his own into a pile, taking out six, and then recounting the resulting pile.
“That’ll
be
twenty-two.”
Boro dug out two silvers and two coppers and they returned to the waterfront with four rucksacks.
“Why don’t we give these to the girls?” Boro proposed. “Except Mati, of course.”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate that,” Ilika said as he scanned the buildings.
“Up there!” He pointed to a mortar and pestle above a doorway, accessible only by a crude stone stairway that ascended the hillside. “A healer.”
They carefully climbed the ancient steps and pulled back the thick woven curtain that covered the doorway of the little cottage.
A bearded gnome of a man sat at a cluttered table with his head just inches from the pages of a book. He looked up as they entered. “Customers or thieves?”
“Customers,” Ilika said. “Do you get many thieves?”
“Used to, ‘til they got it through their heads I don’t have any money.”
“Can you make us an ointment? Very soft, for a burn.”
“Red, blistered, or cracked?”
“Blistered, and we’ve managed to keep them from breaking for five days.”
“Then there’s hope. Yes, I can make such an ointment. Come back in an hour.”
Ilika and Boro returned to the wharf and found a fruit and vegetable wagon. Gulls called to each other and wheeled overhead as the two travelers did their shopping, then sat on a low stone wall to pack it all into two rucksacks.
“I’m starting to get the feeling we’re being watched everywhere we go,”
Boro whispered. “And I don’t mean by gulls.”
“Yes. And not always by guards, either. Maybe the healer’s thieves are still about.”
As they climbed the stone steps again, this time with heavy packs, they sensed eyes following them.
Ilika smelled the green ointment the healer handed him, still warm in its jar.
The healer pointed with a shaking finger. “Fresh knitbone, dried mary bud, and vera juice. Have you got three coppers?”
Ilika poked in his pouch. “I do not. May I give you a silver instead?”
“Oh, my! You may . . . but not to me. Give it to the baker and tell him it’s for me. That way the thieves won’t get it, and I’ll have bread.”
After descending the old stairway, they delivered the promised silver piece to the baker, and whispered to each other about the shadow creeping along not far behind. They both agreed, out loud, that the large plum pie on the baker’s counter would be greatly appreciated back at the camp.
Deep Learning Notes
Police and military, at all times in history, have a difficult task separating “the bad guys” from the rest of the people, so they use a technique called
“profiling,” which involves looking for qualities they associate with “the bad guys,” instead of looking for specific people. Since Ilika knew the guards were looking for a large group, he avoided detection by never being seen in a large group.
A map shows Port Town with its natural harbor, and the hill to the east where a few buildings perched, accessible only by foot paths.
The process Ilika coaxed Boro to use to solve the math problem is an example of a general problem-solving technique. Many difficult problems are easier when broken into chunks. In this case, Ilika suggested Boro break 7 into 5
and 2 before multiplying by 4. Boro was able to do 5 x 4 and 2 x 4 in his head.
Next comes the tricky step: remembering the relationship between the chunks. In this case, it was addition, and Boro was again able to do 20 + 8 in his head.
The healer in Port Town knew the first three degrees of burn. The lightest, reddened skin, is a first-degree burn. Blisters indicate a second-degree burn in which the skin is damaged but not destroyed. A third-degree burn is when the skin is entirely destroyed, and may have several different appearances, including cracked and charred.
The healer used three well-known medicinal herbs in the burn ointment.
“Knitbone” is comfrey, emollient (soothing to the skin) and vulnerary (specific for wounds). “Mary bud” is marigold or calendula, emollient, vulnerary, and antiseptic (neutralizes toxins from infection and kills germs). “Vera juice” is, of course, the juice of aloe vera, emollient, vulnerary, and slightly antibiotic (kills germs).
NEBADOR BookTwo: Journey 100
