Why would they have to copy? Nissa said.
A good question, Sorin said. Sharp as jurworrel thorns you are.
Nissa ignored him and turned to Anowon, who regarded her as he stroked his chin.
They must be unable to write ancient Eldrazi, he said. They are copying something that they have forgotten how to produce. They either have forgotten or they never knew.
But who wrote them, then? Nissa said. And why are the brood copying them?
The brood idolize the authors, obviously, Anowon said.
Gods? Nissa said.
Perhaps.
Sorin smiled. As interesting as this little lesson of archaeosophy is, do you not think we should arrive at Zulaport? I am not feeling my best.
Nissa could hear the distaste in Sorin s voice, and she suddenly realized that she hated him for it. But it was true that Sorin did not look like he had when had they set out from Graypelt. He was noticeably thinner, and papery somehow. After rot-talking during the attack on the brood, he looked positively stricken, like he was possessed by a horrible disease that made his eye sockets deepen and his skin look like dead leaves.
Anowon paid no attention. He was staring at the building. A moment later a strange look crossed over his face. He muttered something to himself and began fumbling in the leather pouch on his belt. Soon he drew out his scraps of parchment and scraped something on one with a piece of charcoal. He stopped and felt for one of the metal cylinders hanging from his belt. He pulled the cylinder up and read the letters on it, holding it very close to his face, turning it slowly as he read.
Sorin watched with a bemused look on his face. I suddenly feel like I am intruding, he said. Do you want to be alone, Ghet?
Anowon looked up and blinked. What do you want? he asked.
Are you ready to visit beautiful Zulaport?
Zulaport?
You know? Sorin pointed down to the sea. The town that lies there where we will hire a craft to take us over the water to Akoum? That Zulaport.
Yes, of course. I am ready, master.
The smile dropped off Sorin s face. He glanced at Nissa before smiling again. Master you say? What foolishness you speak? Let us walk.
And Sorin began walking.
Master, Nissa thought. Interesting. That would explain many things. But why?
The grassland swept several leagues until it ended abruptly at the blue ocean. The trail was clearly marked, and they followed it until the sun buried itself in the jagged pink and yellow surf. Soon the lights of Zulaport showed bright in the dusk.
They entered the town at total dark, greeted by the barking of feral Onduan hounds that howled around them on their three legs. Sorin fetched one a kick in the ribs and sent it yelping away, and the rest melted into the darkness.
Nissa frowned. She could hear Anowon sniffing the air next to her, smelling the many beings in the small settlement. At one point he closed his eyes, and his head bobbed to a rhythm only he could hear. Vampires could hear and feel the blood of prey. If a vampire let it, the pulse, as it was called, could be strong enough to whip one into a frenzy. But as Nissa watched, Anowon opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
Yet Sorin took Anowon by the scruff of the neck, and when the vampire turned, shoved him forward so he almost went sprawling on the ground. Keep your fangs in your mouth, Sorin said.
Shed blood here, and I ll exact a toll on your flesh tonight.
Nissa stepped back from Sorin. Any vampire she d ever encountered in Bala Ged would have attacked at such a provocation. But Anowon skulked ahead and did not even turn.
Sorin leaned in. Anowon has wanted to feed on you, but I have kept him at bay.
Nissa did not know what to say to that. Let him come, she said finally.
Indeed, Sorin said, and moved away into the darkness.
The town itself seemed composed of small shacks of thatch and sod as was typical in a Zendikar settlement. The rush of the ocean surf punctuated the darkness as Nissa walked. The wind off the ocean was humid and cold, and the acrid smoke from the animal dung fires stung Nissa s eyes. Ahead a large fire burned, and they walked toward that light like moths.
A group of larger shacks were grouped around the large fire. It blazed huge and sideways with each gust of wind. One shack was larger than the rest. In the wild flicker of the bonfire a sign made from a piece of driftwood swung in the wind above its door.
Anowon drew the hood of his cloak up over his head. Nissa watched the reflection of the flames dance on his eyes for a second, and then Sorin spoke.
What is that supposed to be? Sorin said. He reached up and took hold of the swinging sign, stilling it.
A kraken, Nissa said. But what is it doing to that cuttlefish?
Sorin, tilting his head sideways, looked at the sign. I do not uh he righted his head I see now.
The Way of Things, said a voice from within the door. Eyes were looking out from the peat hole. The door opened to reveal a short human, hunkered as though by deformity. Or perhaps it was the man s heavy armaments he was wearing a contraption strapped over his left arm. To Nissa it looked to be a mechanism that fed one of the many knives lined up along his arm into his hand. Humans loved such devices. And he was wearing armor plenty of armor another human weakness. Only his bald head and huge red beard were free from rusted plates fit together with only a small seam. Even though elves loathed armor, she could tell the suit he was wearing had once been quite expensive.
Welcome to Zulaport. You will be wanting to speak to Indorel at your earliest possible convenience. He runs this place.
And you are the welcoming committee? Sorin said.
In a manner of speaking, yes, the man said.
I keep this small inn here. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the large shack, an action that caused a multitude of squeaks and creaks to issue from his armor. I watch. For Indorel.
When the man turned, Nissa noticed a great sword covered with runic etchings at his side. His armor was accented with various hooks, and riveted with small loops for affixing ropes and rope systems. And his hands were covered with what looked like tattoos of fire. Flames over every bit of exposed skin on his hands.
Do you have coin? the man said.
Nobody said anything.
There are two places to sleep in Zulaport: Here or there. He pointed into the dark where the ocean crashed, and Nissa could just make out the outline of a small lighthouse on a hill.
And you are not getting in there without fins on your ankles. He held out his hand. I take coin or trade. He looked them over carefully. In your case I can see it will be coin.
That seemed to offend Anowon in some way. He straightened up and lifted his chin. Smara stumbled out of the darkness with her goblins behind her. Nissa waited for more, but none appeared. Were they really down to only three? she wondered. Had there not been nine when they had climbed out of the Makindi Trench?
So, do you have coin? the man said, in a tone more like a demand than a question.
Oh, we have everything you would want, Sorin said.
The man smiled, showing teeth as brown as his armor, and lines at the corners of his eyes. But his smile fell away when he saw Smara and her goblins. Superlative, but the goblins have to sleep in the stables due to the smell.