“Where have you been?”
“What news from Rasdaria?”
“Are the lord and lady all right?”
“Do you have the payment for my fabrics?”
Alfiabalas shook his head to himself. He knew he couldn’t put it off any longer…
He gave his crew once last nod of thanks and threw a rope ladder over the side. He scrambled down it easily, the worn hemp familiar in his hands. He landed with a dull thump against the sanded wooden boards of the pier.
A babble of voices surrounded him as the crowd of elves surged forward, each one jostling for position on the narrow pier. Few of their words were decipherable, but the overwhelming sense of anxiety was palpable. He took a deep, steadying breath before turning around to face them.
He raised is hand in the air before speaking. There was no point in trying to shout
