Darius turns back to me. “We have to ask all those who make it home. But how did you find us?”
“By chance,” I say, not wanting to disclose the truth about the relics just yet.
“Hmm. A little hard to believe that you were able to navigate directly to our outpost with a few lucky guesses. It’s a big ocean out there,” he says mildly.
“There was talk in the Sleeve that the best way to find the Lashing is not to look for it,” I say, just as mildly. “Not all who wander are lost, as they say.”
“An old Ophir saying,” he says, then laughs. “All right, Eban. Keep your secrets. But you must understand if it’s as easy to find us by chance as you claim, then we’ll have to move again.” He turns to a few men behind him. “Sink their vessel and tell Mako to rev the main engines. We should be out of here by morning, lest they were followed by Laconian scouts.”
“Is that really necessary?” I ask. “To sink our boat?” I realize that without it, we don’t have a way to get out of here. But why do I feel I need an escape plan? It’s been a dream to find the last free colony of Ophir. But something about this whole welcome feels false and strange.
Darius doesn’t reply and instead turns on his heel and walks away toward the end of the dock. Gin and I look at each other, unsure what to do.
“Come along now,” Darius calls over his shoulder. “Don’t you want something to eat?”
I limp along, my leg screaming.
He nods toward it. “Did we do that? If so, please accept my apologies. We get raided by Lacon, so we need to keep strangers away, as you can imagine.”
I shake my head and grit my teeth. “No. It’s from the day before. Ran into some trouble. Sleeve life, as you can imagine,” I say, matching his tone.
“Hmm,” he says, when I say nothing more.
He leads us to the end of the flotilla, where a larger barge is docked. We follow him onto it, along with several of the armed men and women who had just tried to kill us with their flaming arrows. The barge takes us farther out to a much larger collection of rafts. One that goes for miles and miles, a real floating city with tents and even what appear to be makeshift cottages and towers.
“Here we are,” he says, and leads us out to what looks like the main thoroughfare.
The people of Lashing line the way. It looks like word has spread about our arrival, and they’re as curious about us as we are about them. They’re all dressed similarly, in light woven cloth in shades of tan and brown and black, cut to suit life on the water. No one wears anything that suggests they’re of a higher or lower social status than anyone else. I feel like I’m in some sort of parade, like the one the highborn put on during one of their high holidays. Gin and I are regarded with suspicion by most, interest by some. Few appear genuinely friendly. Not surprising. If anything, friendliness puts me on the defensive—where I’m from, that’s almost always a manipulation tactic. For all I know, it might be here as well.
The Lashing is far larger than it initially appeared. There are banners everywhere, depicting what looks like a dragon with fins. I wonder what that is, some kind of Ophir symbol perhaps. The tents go on as far as I can see. There are colorful prints on most of them, and through some of the tied-open entryways, I see spacious living quarters with cushy beds covered in soft linens, and bright woven rugs covering the hard floors. The fact that so many are open and unguarded with their possessions surprises me. Back home, if anyone leaves their belongings unsupervised, anything of value disappears. “We share cooking duties here,” Darius tells us, indicating a wide, open space with huge pots simmering over open fires, being stirred by men and women wearing thick beige aprons, splattered with old stains. They pause their work to watch as we go by. He grabs a few pieces of dried beef and hands them to me and Gin. “We’ll get you a proper meal in a bit; hopefully this will do for now.”
I try not to stuff it all in my mouth, although the salty taste makes me crave water more than ever. Thankfully, Darius supplies that, too, handing us each a waterskin filled to the brim with cold drinking water. He continues the makeshift tour. “We also have weavers, crofters, fishermen; every one of us works for the whole. We operate as one community, a sort of extended family. We’re all equal here.”
“How nice,” says Gin.
I have to admit, it does seem pleasant, and fed and watered, I’m more amenable to his welcome. At the same time, I can’t imagine giving up any of my hard-won autonomy—relying on others has never worked out for me. Plus, I don’t have a boat anymore. Not that it was ever mine, but again, I can’t get rid of that strange nagging feeling of discomfort.
“A family, huh?” I say.
“Yes—why?” Darius asks.
“And I’ll assume you’re the head of it?”
Darius rocks back on his heels. “I’ve been designated as one of the community leaders, I suppose.”
“Some people are more equal than others, then?” I challenge.
“I know it’s hard to understand after living in Lacon your whole life, Eban, but that’s not how we operate here. In the Lashing, we keep to the Ophir ways. We are a community of equals. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it after a while.” Darius turns to walk ahead. “We have open quarters for each of you,” he calls back. “They’re on the north side of the village.”
We weave in and out of a maze of tents until we come to one with the entrance tied shut. Darius undoes the knot holding it closed and pulls the flap aside. “Gin, you can stay here.”
She steps inside. The room is as well-appointed as the others we’d seen. The bed is thick and covered with blankets and pillows in red, yellow, and orange, like a sunset. There’s a woven screen for privacy, and an expertly crafted wood chair. “Thank you,” she says.
“As for you, Eban,” Darius begins as he leads me away from the room, toward another large tent a significant distance from Gin’s. “That leg looks like it might be infected. Since you’re injured, you’ll be staying in the infirmary awhile.”
I memorize the layout of the place as we walk, which paths lead where, and the quickest exits at every given point. When we finally arrive at the infirmary, there are at least a dozen simple beds set up in two rows, almost all occupied by sick men—men who obviously require far more care than I do. I suspect Darius is more concerned with putting some space between me and Gin than with healing my leg, but I accept the amenities gratefully.
“I’ll leave you to get settled in, then,” Darius says with a nod. I watch him walk out of the room.
