away, sank down with his back against the wall of a shanty the fishermen
sometimes used.
Like everything else I see, he thought, whatever seems fairest is sure to be
most foul within!
A ship moved majestically across the harbour, passed the lighthouse and
disappeared around the point. Lalo had thought of shipping out on such a vessel,
but he was too unskilled for a sailor, too frail for a common hand. Even the
solace of the taverns was denied to him. In the Green Grape they would
congratulate him on the success that was impossible now, while the clients at
the Vulgar Unicorn would try to rob him, and beat him senseless when they
discovered his poverty. How could he ever explain, even to Cappen Varra, what
had happened to him?
The planks on which he was sitting shook beneath a heavy tread. Gilla … Lalo
tensed, waiting for her accusations, but she only sighed, as if releasing pent
hope, or fear.
‘I hoped I’d find you here…’ Grunting, she eased down beside him, unslung and
handed him an earthenware pot with a narrow spout. ‘Better drink this before it
gets cold.’
He nodded, took a long swallow of fragrant herb tea laced with wine, then
another, and set the pot down.
Gilla pulled her shawl around her, stretched out her legs and settled back
against the wall. Two gulls swooped overhead, squabbling over a piece of flesh.
A heavy swell set wavelets lapping against the pilings below them, then there
was silence again.
In the shared stillness, warmed by the tea and by Gilla’s body, something that
had been wound tight within Lalo began to ease.