Dreamlands by Scott Jäeger Page B

Ajer Akiti, and after the scene in the gambling house, we
fell without a word into fast friendship.  I say without a word for though he
was literate and his hearing was keen, he was completely mute.  When I
discovered he had crewing experience, I took my new friend to the captain of
the Asphodel.
    “What,
this giant?” Harrog said in mock horror.  “He’ll devour our stores the first
day out of port, and we haven’t men to spare for cannibalism.  Akiti, where
have you been?  And don’t tell me it’s working for Xavier.”  The captain gave a
brash laugh.  “Sloan, the question isn’t whether we’ll take him on, it’s
whether he’ll replace you, and one or two other idlers besides!”
    Ajer
grinned hugely and clapped Harrog in a bear hug.  They tussled, Ajer making as
if to throw the captain overboard.  If he hadn’t been in a jesting mood, he easily
could have.  It was good news indeed to find Ajer Akiti so welcome aboard the
Asphodel and, luck following fortune, a cargo of salt pork and tools meant we
would ship for Hlanith with the early morning tide.
    When
Isobel called on me that evening, I was too cheerful to return to the subject
of her father’s brooding.  Pigheaded as he was, there was nothing I could do
for Solomon, or so I told her.  In truth I was full of my recent victories and
new friendship.  Pride had been rare in my past life, and just then I found it
irresistible.
    Everyone
on the Asphodel seemed to know Ajer, by reputation if not by sight, and his
system of signs and gestures served him well.  His inability to speak was no
impediment between us, for when two men are of the same mind there is little
need for talk.
    I
sailed the Southern Sea on a ship full to overflowing with work and song, salt
water and sweat, among men who did not sip timidly at Life, but as the bard
said, drank it to the lees.  I will remember those days as the best of my
existence, for they were the last without care.
    * * *
    Not
until a month later, when the end of our voyage loomed on the horizon, did I reflect
upon my behaviour towards Isobel, which now seemed callous and ugly.  When next
I saw her, between the market and the apartment, tracks of tears seemed to have
worn lines into her pretty face.
    “Isaac,
he’s gone, he’s gone,” she cried nonsensically, clutching me as if she might in
the next instant faint.
    “Easy,”
I said, hugging her close.  “I can’t understand you.”
    “It’s
Solomon,” she said, sobbing.  “My father has disappeared.  You must find him,
Isaac.”
    “How
long has he been gone?” I asked, cold dread congealing around me.
    “Three
days now.  He had been home all day, had been for weeks, then left one evening without
a goodbye, without money or anything else.”
    “He
said nothing?  You have no idea where he might go?”
    She
shook her head mutely. 
    I
quizzed her on Gorice and his other friends, but in the past month Solomon had become
committed to his own isolation, his fey moods often keeping even Isobel away.
    Starting
without the merest clue, I decided first to visit the Shipwrights Guild.  A taciturn
bunch, and secretive by nature, they showed little surprise at the news of
Solomon’s disappearance, and shared none of my urgency in finding him.  After
this disappointment, Ajer joined me in canvassing the docks, where my enquiries
among the workers and sailors also proved fruitless.  No one had seen Solomon,
nor knew of any special business which might have taken him out of town.  The
disappearance of a respected man should have been an exciting topic, but everyone
I spoke to was unusually reserved, and spent longer than I liked thinking on
their answers.
    Ajer
suggested that a drinking binge, though out of character for him, might explain
Solomon’s absence.  We were almost at the Brass Coin when a hooded figure stepped
deliberately into our path.  His cloak hid his features, but did nothing to
conceal a solid, deep-chested frame.  I grabbed