/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-112
chapter-113

Delphasium, Mistress Tatia’s town, could not be called grand in scale, though the shining marble streets inside made it seem like a pearl amidst the desert. That place was far behind them, and Argrave felt it had been a suitable welcome to the Burnt Desert.

The mining city, Malgeridum, was giant compared to Delphasium, yet it lacked the magnificence the simple trading town had. It stood at the point where the sand dunes began to fade in way of hills of black rock and dirt, cratered deep into the earth. It had walls, but the city itself was so much lower than the surrounding terrain it was difficult to spot them from a distance. The first thing most would spot was rising smoke from the ever-burning furnaces, and the tarps waving in the wind to ward off sand.

The road to Malgeridum forked into two separate entrances, each for a distinct district. One district was obviously more maintained than the other, made for residential use, while the other was for labor and production. Argrave and his company stood beside Titus’ carriage, their bags fully packed. They would separate here—Argrave would head for the residential district while Titus would depart for the production district.

“What’s this?” Argrave held a thick round metal disc. It had eight triangles spaced equidistantly on the edge.

“A parting gift for the gentleman,” Titus explained. “I understand that the esteemed persons will be travelling to Argent. Even for those who have travelled there before, the dunes and the hills stretch on forever.” Titus looked out to the desert behind Argrave. “Just as a sailor must use the stars and a compass to mark their path across the ocean, so, too, must men in the Burnt Desert use a compass to traverse this sea of black sand.”

Argrave finally figured things out, and he flipped open the disc’s lid, revealing a bit of glassware above a simple magnetized needle. The cardinal directions were marked.

“This is…” Argrave looked down at it. “Damn. I feel pretty stupid. I was worrying about how I was going to find my way around in case things went sour, but… guess I forgot these stupid things existed,” Argrave laughed and shook his head. “I appreciate this. It’s a very considerate gift. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, exactly. Don’t you need it?”

Titus scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It’s an old thing, in truth, one that I used long ago. But it’s reliable, and I believe that’s the most important thing.”

Argrave nodded and closed the lid with his thumb. “You’re a nice guy, Titus.”

“The gentleman was entertaining and polite—rare company for a merchant as me. And…” he stepped away, retrieving a simple red cloth wrapped around something rectangular. “Here. The madam expressed enjoyment of the Bitterbite leaves, and so I took the liberty to prepare some. Please,” he held them out to Anneliese.

She took them from his hands. “Such a thoughtful gift,” she smiled warmly.

Argrave felt something unpleasant in his chest, and he found himself stepping forward between the two of them. “So, you’re headed to the production district to unload things?” he addressed Titus.

“Yes, my men and I will be headed that way,” Titus confirmed. “I apologize, but I could not think of a gift for the second gentleman, Galamon…”

Galamon shook his head. “I have all I need.”

“I appreciate all you’ve done.” Argrave held his hand out, holding ten gold coins in hand stacked atop each other. “Here. I know you didn’t ask, but don’t refuse.”

Titus blinked for a moment, biting his lips in clear hesitance. Eventually, Argrave grabbed his wrist and dropped the coins in his hand.

“The gentleman is generous,” Titus sighed. “May your days be vigorous, and your nights tranquil,” he placed his hand on his chest and bowed deeply.

“Maybe not too­ vigorous,” Argrave said musingly. “I wish you well.”

Titus straightened, nodded, and whistled with his fingers. At once, his men spurred the camel forward, and they moved down the road, heading for the production district.

Argrave watched their caravan move away, feeling a little bit empty.

“Can talk again, finally,” Garm veritably shouted.

Argrave turned to Galamon and looked past, seeing the gleaming black and gold eyes hiding behind Galamon’s helmet atop his backpack. He really leaves himself open for low blows. So much mean stuff I can say in response to that.

“You did well,” Argrave said instead, turning away to the mining city ahead. “Even still, we have to get inside quickly, find a place to stay. Don’t want to linger in this city long. Not the same type of place as Delphasium.”