Tcri McLaren
put the crate down on the counter. Cheyne's view improved. Stupendously.
Thinking about the dead man from the ruins, for surely this Kalkuk was the same man, Cheyne had said nothing up to now. He cleared his throat roughly in an attempt to introduce himself and show her the totem, thinking that she might recognize it and all the mysteries would be solved. But Og pulled at his cloak smartly, and the young man swallowed his words.
"We come in search of a map, my good lady. I have done business with your uncle for long years now. Vashki here tells me he has recently passed on. I hope it was none of the Five Fatal Fevers." Og bowed deeply, his nose all but touching the newly swept floor.
"Who are you? You both look familiar," said the woman, her eyes flashing darkly.
"My name is Ogwater Rifkin, professional guide, and this is my friend, who searches for passage across the erg to the far country. Your uncle sold the finest maps in all of Sumifa."
"You were part of my uncle's clientele?"
"Oh, yes, on many occasions. He and I did much good business together," said Og. Cheyne gave him a puzzled look, suddenly wondering if Og had had anything to do with the man's murder. "Well, at any rate, we did business," Og allowed.
Noting the lack of other customers, the woman glared at him for a moment, her eyes red and swollen, sighed deeply, and then motioned them around to the front of the counter. "Try not to touch anything, please." Her voice was tired and aloof.
"Oh, of course, of course. You have, ah, really shined things up here. I've never seen it look so… empty," said Og, searching for the stacks of brass sculpture filled with illegal Glavian shirrir, the stolen paintings waiting to be shipped on a midnight caravan, and the little piles of date pits that once littered the premises of his favorite black market. He marveled at what difference a day had made. The girl had worked fast.
SONG OF TIME t 0 3
"The shop, Muje Rifkin, is no longer what it once was. I am the cartographer who drew the maps-the correct ones-my uncle sold. I will ask you never to come again for the sort of business you no doubt conducted with my uncle. But today I will provide you a legitimate map for the legitimate fee in kohli."
Cheyne could no longer remain quiet. "Mujida, we are sorry for your loss, and thank you for serving us. My name is Cheyne,* he said. "May I have the honor of knowing yours?"
Ogwater frowned his displeasure, thinking they would be there far too long now, and he really had reached his sobriety limit. His hands were beginning to shake and his mouth was dryer than the desert.
"My name is Claria. What is your final destination?" she replied, her voice a little less sharp, the first hints of a smile softening her angular face. Cheyne felt his cheeks go warm at the music in Claria's odd, lovely name. He almost forgot to answer her question.
"Uh… the Sarrazan forest, I believe," he finally sputtered out.
"The Borderlands?" she began, a strange look crossing her face. "Wait-I remember you now. Maceo almost ran you down in the street the other day. You're not from here. Don't you know-"
"He knows that's where he wants to go," Og hastily injected. Claria raised a dark brow, but said no more.
There was no way around it. He would have to see if she recognized the totem. Cheyne reached into his pack and brought out the ganzite block. Claria took it without his expected reaction, but was immediately intrigued with the carvings.
"Where…?" Claria began.
"On site. Well, in a sort of crypt, actually." He thought better of telling her that he had found it in her dead uncle's hand. "I have to find out what the glyphs say. If you can read them, then we won't have to take the journey," replied Cheyne hopefully. Og slapped his forehead in disgust. Vashki giggled from the corner.