Strange Noises Fiction by Rachel Greenham

Not only did we sight land, I see when I get on deck, but we’re in sight of a pretty sizeable city port. Tall watchtowers stand over the harbour mouth, and terracotta walls and arches and verdigris domed rooftops and trees and pleasant-looking green spaces stretch away from the hidden quayside up and over the valley walls, where it looks like palaces and temples are surveying their domain.

“Whoah,” I comment. “Anyone know where we are?” I still feel shaky, and try to keep it out of my voice. The view looks familiar. I’ve been here before, in Taniel’s former life.

“’Course, that’s Jeoda,” Chirasel says. “We used to come here every year, usually in winter before going to the Northern Isles.”

Jeoda. What passes for the capital of Jeodin. It looks the part anyway, almost glowing in the late summer light. I can see a single ship tacking in through the harbour mouth as I watch.

“That’s impossible, we can’t be that far north,” Sam says.

“We had a good wind at our back the whole way,” I say, covering my own surprise. It wouldn’t do the other women any harm to think I meant to do this all along. I flash Asuti a grin and she grins back.

“And you had something to do with that I suppose?” Sam asks.

I remember Asuti didn’t want anyone to know. “You might very well say that,” I say. “I couldn’t possibly comment.” I grin at her too. “I guess our little bird led us true after all. Talking of which, where is he?”

“Took off a little while ago. Gone hunting I think.”

“Are we going to find Satthei?” Ateis asks.

“I don’t know, love.”

“Well at least this time we have some money,” Sam comments.

Wait a minute. I missed something. “We used to come here?” I ask Chirasel. “It used to be on the Satthei’s route? Why did she stop coming here?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“It’s the capital. You don’t just…” I stop, thoughtful. Fareis could have had any one of a hundred private reasons for dropping Jeoda from her route, and I could well imagine most of them not being ones she’d make known to the whole fleet. Someone would have to have discussed it though. The ship Masters would have needed some kind of explanation. But none of them are here. “How long ago were you last here?” I ask Chirasel.

“Oh, it must be—”

“Ten years?” Demele speculates.

“More than that. I was… I must have been ’Suti’s age.”

Guessing Asuti at ten and Chirasel at maybe twenty two, makes it twelve or thirteen years ago.

“If things look like they’ve changed to you, point it out,” Sam tells Chirasel and Demele. She gives me a look I know. Wondering, as I am, why Fareis would abandon such an important port. “Well, are we going in?”