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t is, in fact, near sundown when Yasmaili finishes threading her way through camel dung and spoiled fruit to Gard Aharaz's west gate. There are several guards at the gate, wearing the practical white robes of the region; only their green sashes (deemed better visible than the usual shoulder and arm patches) distinguish them from ordinary travellers or city denizens. One of the guards, a grizzled old man, spots Yasmaili lingering by the gate and says casually, "The sun sets quickly over the horizon." Having rehearsed the countersign all the way here, she gives it quickly: "The night is even swifter." The guard's eyes widen in seeming surprise. "Ah, that's right--you're that lad's granny, aren't you? He's been waiting to see you." In a lower voice, as she approaches the gate, he says, "Ask for Chahraz at the west entrance. He always did like sunsets." An elaborate system of signs and countersigns, it seems, is in place. But the custom is in keeping with those of Harava...perhaps the Qenaren borrowed it when they came here 200 years ago. Inside the fortress, there are soldiers and trainees and servants going about their business, and they are courteous of an old woman and her feeble steps. The west entrance is easily found, and there she is directed to a room deeper in Gard Aharaz. The halls are lit by magelights alternating with lanterns--rock gas, by the smell. A military tradition, for any mage with a small knowledge of spellcraft might pull one, two, three of the magelights into darkness, and the fort into disorder, if this happened on a large enough scale. Captain Jamir Chahraz's chamber is at the end of one such hall. He comes out to greet her, in fact; a moment later she senses warding spell in the room proper, and sees the spellsworn's cross he wears. "Don't be surprised," he says wryly. "All the spellsworn report to me, though it's not bandied about, and I heard you coming." The illusion, perhaps. "It's preferable not to have stones thrown at you by the old-fashioned witch-haters. On what business do you come?" He seems unsurprised; perhaps messengers like her are common. She lets the illusion fade as she straightens from her rheumatic crouch. "Captain." She makes a graceful bow. "I was told to bring you a message," she withdraws the letter and proffers it. After an eyeblink's worth of hesitation Yasmaili adds, "The spellsworn who gave it to me also mentioned that you had an interest in one Yasefe, and hinted that you would desire an explanation of why I have been watching him."
Back: Yasmaili's Prologue 5 Sun image provided by Clipart Castle.
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