Sign of chaos. Chapter 5,6,7
CHAPTER 5
As we walked along the beach in the direction of the harbor, Coral finally spoke.
“Does that sort of thing happen around here very often?”
“You should come by on a bad day,” I said.
“If you don’t mind telling me, I’d like to hear what it was all about.”
“I guess I owe you an explanation,” I agreed, “because I wronged you back there, whether you know it or not.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yep,”
“Go on. I’m really curious.”
“It’s a long story …,” I began again.
She looked ahead to the harbor, then up to Kolvir’s heights.
“… A long walk, too,” she said.
“… And you’re a daughter of the prime minister of a country with which we have somewhat touchy relations at the moment.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some of the things that are happening may represent kind of sensitive information.”
She put her hand on my shoulder and halted. She stared into my eyes.
“I can keep a secret,” she told me. “After all, you know mine.”
I congratulated myself on having finally learned my relatives’ trick of controlling facial expression even when puzzled as all hell. She had said something back in the cave when I had addressed her as if she were the entity, something that sounded as if she believed I had discovered a secret concerning her.
So I gave her a wry smile and nodded.
“Just so,” I said.
“You’re not planning on ravaging our country or anything like that, are you?” she asked.
“To my knowledge, no. And I don’t think it likely either.”
“Well, then. You can only speak from your knowledge, can’t you?”
“True,” I agreed.
“So let’s hear the story.”
“All right.”
As we walked along the strand and I spoke, to the accompaniment of the waves’ deep notes, I could not help but remember again my father’s long narrative. Was it a family trait, I wondered, to go autobiographical at a time of troubles if the right listener turned up? For I realized I was elaborating my telling beyond the bounds of necessity. And why should she be the right listener, anyhow?
When we reached the port district, I realized I was hungry, anyway, and I still had a lot of telling to do. In that it was still daylight and doubtless considerably safer than when I’d made my nighttime visit, I found my way over to Harbor Road-which was even dirtier in strong light-and, having learned that Coral was hungry, too, I took us on around to the rear of the cove, pausing for a few minutes to watch a many-roasted vessel with golden sails round the sea wall and head in. Then we followed the curving way to the western shore, and I was able to locate Seabreeze Lane without any trouble. It was still early enough. that we passed a few sober sailors. At one point a heavy, black-bearded man with an interesting scar on his right cheek began to approach us, but a smaller man caught up with him first and whispered something in his ear. They both fumed away.
“Hey,” I said. “What did he want?”
“Nothin’,” the smaller man said. “He don’t want nothin’.” He studied me for a moment and nodded. Then, “I saw you here the other night,” he added.
“Oh,” I said, as they continued to the next corner, turned it, and were gone.
“What was that all about?” Coral said.
“I didn’t get to that part of the story yet.”
But I remembered it vividly when we passed the place where it had occurred. No signs of that conflict remained.
I almost passed what had been Bloody Bill’s, though, because a new sign hung above the door. It read “Bloody Andy’s,” in fresh green letters. The place was just the same inside, however, except for the man behind the counter, who was taller and thinner than the shaggy, crag-faced individual who had served me last time. His name, I learned, was Jak, and he was Andy’s brother. He sold us a bottle of Bayle’s Piss and put in our order for two fish dinners through the hole in the wall. My former table was vacant and we took it. I laid my sword belt on the chair to my right, with the blade partly drawn, as I had been taught etiquette required here.