Halting in the middle of a small plaza with a public drinking fountain before them, Ehomba considered the shopfronts that ringed the circular square. “We need a guide, some information, and instruction.”
Still carrying the swordsman, who was by now awake, moaning, and holding himself, Hunkapa gestured with his great shaggy head. “Ehomba want go west. Hunkapa guide! That way, west.” Next to him, Ahlitah commented by farting.
Leaning on his spear, the herdsman smiled tolerantly at his oversized companion. “That is very good, Hunkapa. I am glad you know which way is west. But before we start we should try to learn something about the country we must pass through.”
Eventually a resident brave enough to stop at Ehomba’s request directed them to a large dispatch house where wagons of many sizes and descriptions were being fitted out with sails. The travelers had already encountered several of these sturdy, wind-powered vehicles steering their way around the city. According to the helpful citizen, the dispatch center was a good place to find not only transportation inland, but also a guide to convey them there.
Their inquiries met with the same kind of amused skepticism Ehomba had encountered before. It was a reaction that, on repetition, was beginning to grow tiresome. Was he the only man who believed that to travel from one place to another, no matter how reputedly dangerous or difficult, all that was required was for one to start walking in the requisite direction?
“Lissen, you,” stammered the ancient pathfinder who was too bored not to talk to them, “we all every one of us knows where Ehl-Larimar lies.” Raising a shaky finger that resembled a strip of rolled saddle leather, he pointed westward. Behind Ehomba, huge hands clapped delightedly together.