Strange Noises Fiction by Rachel Greenham

I meant to go up to Samila's bedroom that night after finishing work, but I had to help Jalese and Hethan clean up the bar and by the time I can get away and go upstairs it's too late. Really. The sky is starting to lighten away to the East and my soft knocking on her door receives no reply. She has her own room, apart from Kerilas and Lotan. Hethan clearly didn't think any other arrangement was suitably respectable. So I go back down to the basement and my own pallet. Or rather ours, as Jalese and I have pushed ours together.

"Have you talked to Sam yet?" Kerilas asks, as I take a break from playing that evening. Jalese's brought me another of these creamy, fruity drinks that I can only describe as a smoothie of some sort, but it's about a micron away from being a milk shake too. The flavours are all of Jeodin though, with cinnamon and something else I can't place at all but which I suspect is making me a little less inhibited. "Sam? What about?" "Oh come off it, Tani, what do you think?" He leans close. "Do you want me to sit here and talk aloud about how you're not really a girl?" he asks me in English.

Port Denhall approximately triples in size when Market comes in. That's not just in numbers of people. Jalese tells me to go and watch as the marketeer ships arrive and I take myself off to find a vantage point on the small headland above the harbour mouth. I know that Lotan and Samila are down there somewhere, part of it all. I don't know where Kerilas is.

"I have to serve food. Hethan's---" "Yeah I know. It'll just take a minute. You saw how quickly I picked it up last time." "And your friend's upstairs in her room. She's upset about something." "Uh..." Samila. Damn it, I don't have time for this. "Did she say what?" Jalese shakes her head. "She wouldn't tell me. She says I won't understand." I look back towards the bar. "I've got to play. We can't afford to lose this work." "I know." She bites her lip, thinking. "You really don't remember _any_ other songs?"

Hethan is making gestures at me. The bar has got busier while we were talking, and at some point an interrupt in Hethan's mind triggered, saying 'there needs to be music now.' I get the message. "Sorry guys. I've got to earn my keep," I excuse myself and stand to make my way to the small stage. The moment I put a foot on the stage, it seems, the noise level in the bar drops. _Oh shit,_ I think, and turn around to see a room full of expectant faces. _Oh deep shit._

"It took you long enough," Lotan says as we cross the bar to where they're sitting. I have the box-harp in my hand. "What were you two doing---" Samila turns to look, having had her back to us. "Bloody Hell!" she exclaims, lapsing into English. "You brush up nice don't you?" I don't really know what to say to that, so I just smile. "Both of you," Samila continues, switching back to Jeodine for Jalese's benefit. "You look really nice." "Thank you," I say. "It's amazing what a bath and a change of clothes can do, I guess." "Come on then, give us a twirl," Lotan says, in English.

There are eight guest bedrooms, and it takes Jalese and I the rest of the afternoon to clean them all and make them ready for occupation. Jalese's surprised at how much she has to show me what to do, but I think I'm a net contributor to the effort by the time we hit the second room. By the time we've done all eight I feel exhausted and all I want to do is go down to the basement where we'd set up sleeping pallets for myself, and just sleep. But on the way down Hethan calls us into the back room. Someone in the bar has been asking after us.

"Jalese?" I say, coming up behind her. She stops and turns. "Um, are you leaving?" She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair. "I don't know," she admits. "Do you want me to?" She uses the form of 'you' that means all of us, not including her.

"Weren't they supposed to send out a pilot or something?" Samila asks as we pass the harbour mouth. "I don't think so," I say. "I think we're too small. No danger of us grounding." "Oh. Okay." We have no oars, and no engine of course, so I have to bring us straight into a landing under sail. Now we really find out if I have access to proper sailing skills. I spot a man on the quayside with what looks like a large white solid tennis raquet, waving it at us and pointing with it. I get the idea, trusting that I'm right, and head towards the part of the quay he's indicating.

"I'm just saying I don't think it's a great idea just sailing right into a busy port before we find out more about what actually goes on there!" Lotan is saying, again. "What do you say?" he asks Kerilas. We've been sailing for three days. Supplies are running low. We can catch fish, but out here we can't catch any fruit or vegetables. Or bumwool for that matter, which is a source of growing anxiety on board. Someone's using too much.