One Day More - a Sartorias-deles fanfic

Chapter 31

Iris had not enjoyed the journey to Geranda. The seas were rough, and the winds fierce, and it was enough to make her feel very seasick.  Though she had wanted to admire her surroundings, the captain told her she would miss nothing by staying below deck. Just endless water and sky.  Iris's stomach made the decision for her, and she passed the time in fitful segments of sleep and forced eating.  Guilt made every swallow nearly impossible.

She should have pushed Enda and Bren away. Should never have allowed them to help her, because now they could be implicated, too.  But they had made their own decisions, hadn't they?  Iris's heart twisted from one extreme to the other.  From gratefulness toward her friends to remorse that they had become involved in her plight. Her crimes.

The port on Geranda was loud, and it smelled ghastly due to the fish market lining one row of merchant stalls.  Iris had to switch to breathing through her mouth.  She knew little about the island, and no part of her wanted to stay here longer than what was necessary.  The north portion may be orderly thanks to the Behrons' influence, but the south was a different story.  Regardless of location, it was hardly safe for any unescorted—and unarmed—woman to travel alone.  Cetus Theren may have taught her court minutiae, but self-defense did not fall under that label.

"At least this seems to be someplace with activity," Iris said aloud, dodging a wayward arm as a bearded man rushed by with his wares.  If anyone knew how to find Mellius Ninrant, she could hopefully be directed toward him from here.  Looking from one direction to the other, she decided to go right.  Why?  Because it was away from the smell...and she had nothing to guide her but her gut intuition.  And that gut was feeling very queasy.

She swung her bag to her opposite shoulder and started off.  The smell changed from fish to sweat, and bile rolled up into her throat.  No amount of swallowing could push it down.  The odor was strong—far stronger than anything she had ever encountered.  The fish might have been better than this.  A quick glance around her surroundings explained its origins.  While the north end of Geranda may have been nicer, it still had its sleazy occupants—and she had stumbled into the middle of them.  The taverns had intoxicated men going in and out their doors, and she heard girlish laughter from the two-story building a short distance away.  Many different laughs, mixed with deep grunts or the occasional yell.

Avoid, avoid, avoid. Iris's hand tightened on her bag.  She had to get out of here.  She turned on her heel and turned back in the direction she had come, attempting to remain casual while her pulse screamed in her ears.

"What are you doing here, lady?  You lost?" The scent of alcohol flooded Iris's nose as a dirty hand closed around her arm. Iris had to force down a gag.

"N-no." The tremor in her voice probably fooled no one.  The man was taller than she was and almost twice as wide, the skin of his arms covered in tattoos.  She had never seen tattoos—except in books—but now was not the time to study them. "I was just leaving."

"You look lost," he said with a hiccup and a grin. "Let me accompany you. Can't have any rapscallions accosting you."

"No, I'll be fine. Really." Iris smiled in a manner she hoped appeared encouraging. "You can go about your business."

The man's hand tightened on her arm.

"I will serve as escort, Blic," a new voice said from behind her.  This one was hard.  Cold.  Authoritative.  It reminded Iris of her father, and she stiffened reflexively. "You may go."

The man called Blic looked behind them and glared before whipping Iris around with him. "I saw her first."

"And she'll be the last thing you see if you don't release her."