I have done nothing with my life, she thought. Nothing worthwhile.
Then do it now, she told herself. Help to defeat the Almecs.
Talaban!
Who was he? The thought cut through her despair.
Closing her eyes she let her spirit soar over the city. Fires were still burning down by the docks and across the estuary in Pagaru. Sofarita flew on to the harbour and saw the black ship nestling against the wharf. Dropping down she sank beneath the decks, searching for the captain’s quarters. She entered many cabins, but they all seemed small and cramped. At last she moved towards the stern and entered a larger room. A man was seated at a desk. Like all Avatars he looked young, his face square-cut and handsome, his hair almost black, but dyed blue at the shorn temples. There was a hardness to his features, but no sign of cruelty. He was talking to a Vagar – no, she realized, not a Vagar. The man was a tribesman of some kind. His dark hair was braided and he wore a black vest adorned with white bone.
She opened the ears of her spirit. The tribesman was speaking.
‘Bad visions I have. Suryet needs me. The People suffer.’
‘I want to help you, Touchstone. You know I speak the truth. But my people are also suffering, and until the Questor General gives us permission I cannot sail the Serpent to the west.’
‘This I know,’ said the tribesman sadly. He was about to speak again when suddenly he turned and looked straight at Sofarita. ‘Who you be?’ he asked her.
At first she was too shocked to reply. Talaban cut in. ‘Who are you talking to?’
‘Beautiful woman. Spirit.’
‘/ am Sofarita,’ she said. ‘And you are Touch-the-Moon.’
‘That is name I won. Not to be spoken by strangers. You may call me Touchstone.’
‘Then I shall. How is it that you can see me?’
‘I see many things. Are you dead?’
‘Not yet.’ She glanced at Talaban, who was sitting quietly, watching the tribesman intently. ‘He will think you have lost your senses.’
‘You wait for me,’ he said. ‘Not easy speak in this tongue.’
As she watched him he closed his eyes. A glow began around his head and chest, flickering from red to purple. Then he rose from his body. ‘Now we can speak freely, you and I, in the language of spirit,’ he said. ‘Where are you from, Beautiful One?’
‘I live in the city,’ she told him. ‘The One-Eyed-Fox spoke to me. He told me to find Talaban, and that he alone will know where the last battle is to be fought.’
‘He doesn’t know yet.’ He gazed back at the silent captain. ‘He is a good man, that one. The best of them.’
‘There is a sadness about him.’
‘He lost his love, and the flames of his heart burn low. Are you wed?’
‘No.’
‘You could blow upon the flames.’
‘You seek to match me to a man I have not met. You are very forward, Touchstone.’
He smiled. ‘You tell me where to find you and I shall bring him to you – even if I have to club him over the head and carry him.’
7 am at the house ofQuestor Ro. Bring him tomorrow. At dusk:
She watched as the tribesman’s spirit settled back into his body. His eyes opened.
‘And where is the beautiful woman now?’ asked Talaban, with a smile.
‘She wait. We see her tomorrow. You like her, maybe.’
The smile suddenly left Talaban’s face. ‘She is the woman the Council sentenced to death. The Vagar with magical powers.’
‘Maybe,’ agreed Touchstone.
‘Is she still here?’
Touchstone turned and gazed at Sofarita. ‘No, captain. She gone now.’
‘What did you make of her? And I’m not interested in beauty. Is she a danger to my people?’
‘How I know this?’ responded Touchstone. ‘But she speak with One-Eyed-Fox. He say she fight Almecs. You think it right to kill her?’
‘No I do not. But it puts me in a difficult position. I am a servant of the Council, and it would be my duty to report a meeting with anyone declared as an enemy of the Avatar.’