“Likewise. I trust your journey was a pleasant one.”

“Journeys are always pleasant to me! Always! It is the time between them that I find trying. Indeed it is!” Bayaz frowned over at Logen but he could only shrug his shoulders. “May I ask how long it will be until we begin our journey? I am most keen to embark!”

“Soon, I hope, the last member of our expedition will arrive. We will need to charter a ship.”

“Of course! It shall be my particular pleasure to do so! What shall I tell the captain of our course?”

“West across the Circle Sea, to Stariksa, then on to Calcis in the Old Empire.” The little man smiled and bowed low. “You approve?”

“I do, but ships rarely pass to Calcis now. The Old Empire’s endless wars have made the waters dangerous thereabouts. Piracy, alas, is rife. It may be difficult to find a captain willing.”

“This should help.” Bayaz tossed his ever-bulging purse onto the table.

“It should indeed.”

“Make sure the ship is fast. Once we are ready I do not wish to waste a day.”

“On that you may depend,” said the Navigator, scooping up the heavy bag of coins. “To sail in slow vessels is not my way! No! I will find for you the fastest ship in all Adua! Yes! She shall fly like the breath of God! She shall skip over the waves like—”

“Merely fast will do.”

The little man inclined his head. “The time of departure?”

“Within the month.” Bayaz looked at Logen. “Why don’t you go with him?”

“Uh?”

“Yes!” shouted the Navigator, “we will go together!” He grabbed Logen by the elbow and began to pull him towards the door.

“I will expect some change, Brother Longfoot!” called Bayaz, from behind.

The Navigator turned in the doorway. “There will be change, on that you may depend. An eye for value, a flair for barter, a dauntless purpose in negotiation! These are but three,” and he smiled broadly, “of my remarkable talents!”

“It is a fabulous place, this Adua. Truly. Few cities are its equal. Shaffa, perhaps, is larger, but so very dusty. None could deny that Westport and Dagoska have their sights. Some think of Ospria, on its mountain slopes, as the most beautiful city of the world, but Brother Longfoot’s heart, it must be said, belongs to great Talins. Have you been there, Master Ninefingers, have you seen that noble settlement?”

“Er…” Logen was busy trying to keep up with the little man, dodging between the endless flow of people.

Longfoot stopped so suddenly that Logen almost piled into him. The Navigator turned, his hands raised, a faraway look in his eye. “Talins at sunset, seen from the ocean! I have witnessed many remarkable things, believe me, but I declare that to be the most beautiful sight in all the world. The way the sun gleams on the myriad canals, on the glinting domes of the Grand Duke’s citadel, on the graceful palaces of the merchant princes! Where now does the shining sea end, and the shining city begin? Ah! Talins!” He turned and charged off once more and Logen hurried after him.

“But this Adua is a fine place, certainly, and growing every year. Things have changed a great deal here since my last visit, indeed they have. Once there were only noblemen and commoners. The noblemen owned the land so they had the money and therefore the power. Ha. Simple, you see?”

“Well—” Logen was having trouble seeing much further than Longfoot’s back.

“But now they have trade, and so much of it. Merchants, and bankers, and so forth. Everywhere. Armies of them. Now commoners can be rich, you see? And a rich commoner has power. Is he a commoner now, or a nobleman? Or is he something else? Ha. Very complicated all of a sudden, no?”

“Er—”

“So much wealth. So much money. But so much poverty too, eh? So many beggars, so many poor. Hardly healthy, so rich and so poor, so close together, but it’s a fine place still, and always growing.”

“I find it too crowded,” mumbled Logen as a shoulder barged past him, “and too hot.”

“Bah! Crowded? Do you call this crowded? You should see the great temple in Shaffa at morning prayer! Or the grand square before the Emperor’s palace when new slaves are up for auction! And hot? Do you call this hot? In Ul-Saffayn, in the far south of Gurkhul, it gets so hot during the summer months that you can cook an egg on your doorstep. Truly! This way.” He ducked through the passing crowds towards a narrow sidestreet. “This way is the quickest!”

Logen caught him by the arm. “Down there?” He peered into the gloom. “You sure?”

“Can you doubt it?” demanded Longfoot, suddenly horrified. “Can it be that you could doubt it? Among all my remarkable talents, it is my skill at navigation that is paramount! It is for that talent, above all, that the First of the Magi has made so generous a contribution to the coffers of the order! Could it be that you… but wait.” He held up his hand and began to smile again, then tapped Logen on the chest with his forefinger. “You do not know Brother Longfoot. Not yet. You are watchful and cautious, I see it, fine qualities in their place. I cannot expect you to have my unshakeable faith in my abilities. No! That would not be fair. Unfairness is not an admirable quality. No! Unfairness is not my way.”

“I meant—”

“I shall convince you!” shouted Longfoot. “Indeed I shall! You will come to trust my word before your own! Yes! This way is the quickest!” And he strode off down the dingy alleyway with remarkable speed, Logen struggling to keep up though his legs were a good half-foot longer.

“Ah, the back streets!” called the Navigator over his shoulder as they passed down dark and grimy lanes, the buildings crowding in ever closer. “The back streets, eh?” The alleys grew narrower, darker, and dirtier still. The little man turned to the left and the right, never pausing for an instant to consider his course. “Do you smell that? Do you smell that, Master Ninefingers? It smells like…” he rubbed his thumbs and fingertips together as he strode along, searching for the words “…mystery! Adventure!”

It smelled like shit to Logen. A man lay on his face in the gutter, dead drunk perhaps, or maybe simply dead. Other men passed by, limping and haggard, or standing in threatening groups in doorways, handing round bottles. There were women here too.

“Four marks and I’ll give you a blessing, Northman!” one of them called to Logen as they passed. “A blessing you won’t soon forget! Three, then!”

“Whores,” whispered Longfoot, shaking his head, “and cheap ones too. You like women?”

“Well—”

“You should go to Ul-Nahb my friend! Ul-Nahb on the shores of the Southern Sea! You could buy a bed-slave there. Indeed you could! They cost a fortune, but they train these girls for years!”

“You can buy a girl?” asked Logen, mystified.

“Boys too, if your taste bends that way.”

“Eh?”

“They train them for years, truly. It’s a whole industry down there. You want skilled? Do you? These girls have skills you wouldn’t believe! Or visit Sipani! There are places in that city—phew! The women are beautiful, beautiful every one! Truly! Like princesses! And clean,” he muttered, peering at one of the scruffy women by the roadside.

A bit of dirt didn’t bother Logen any. Skilled and beautiful all sounded too complicated to him. One girl caught his eye as they passed, leaning against a door-frame with one arm up. Watching them pass with a half-hearted smile. Logen found her pretty, in a desperate sort of a way. Prettier than he was anyway, and it had been a long time. You have to be realistic about these things.

Logen stopped in the street. “Bayaz wanted change?” he muttered.

“He did. He was most specific on the subject.”

“There’s money to spare, then?”

Longfoot raised one eyebrow. “Well, perhaps, let me see…”

He pulled out the purse with a flourish and opened it, rooting around inside. There was a loud jingling of coins.