Airie

As their ship entered the port, Dusan could already make out the people on the shore, their colorful clothes bright in the sun. Stalls and shops lined the promenade, drawing dense crowds. The wind carried unfamiliar smells of spices and perfumes. On the decks of the ships they were passing by he could see foreign-looking sailors in strange outfits. Far ahead, gilded tops of distant towers shone in the sun—probably the king’s palace. The sheer size of the city made Dusan feel overwhelmed, tiny, and unimportant.

“You’ll have to spend at least a week here before you sail again, for there won’t be much wind in the next few days,” Reijo said to captain Evander. “Yet don’t wait too long—the autumn storms will begin in a few weeks.”

“I’ll be missing your advice,” Evander said. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“No,” Dusan said, perhaps a bit too sharply. He couldn’t wait to get off this ship. The month he’d spent on it had been an exhausting nightmare, and the last thing he wanted was to be onboard this—or any other—ship ever again. From now on, he would only travel by land.

“I didn’t expect any other answer.” Evander gave Reijo an evaluating look, then turned to Dusan. ““Have you thought about meeting the king? I hope you understand that I’m offering you a truly rare opportunity.”

“What’s a king?” said Reijo.

Evander laughed. “The king is the head of this little village.” He gestured at the city spreading ahead of them. “And of many, many other villages, as well as this sea and this ship we’re sailing on and most everything you see.” He looked at Reijo, still smiling. “I swear, boy, I can never tell if you’re joking or not.” He turned to Dusan. “Haven’t you spoken to him about this? I thought you intended to.”

“I forgot.”

The concept of the mighty king who ‘collects special people’ didn’t sit well with Dusan. People weren’t items to collect. On the other hand, he and Reijo needed money, and getting hired by the richest man out there had to be the shortest path to achieve that. He hadn’t wanted to speak to Reijo before he made up his own mind, but, apparently, this couldn’t be postponed any longer.

“A man who owns all of this?” Reijo gestured around, then looked at Dusan, wide-eyed. “He must be very special.” He turned to Evander. “And you could introduce us to him?”

“It’s possible, yes,” Evander said. “He might hire you to predict the weather. That’s not the most useful talent, but it could still interest him.” He looked Reijo up and down. “We’ll need to buy you new clothes, of course. You can’t appear at his court looking like beggars.”

“We can’t afford that,” Dusan said. “Who’ll pay for those clothes?”

“The ever-suspicious Dusan.” Evander smiled. “I’ll handle that. If the king hires you, I’ll get my reward, and we’ll be square.”

“It must be quite a generous reward.”

“The king is generous to those who interest him,” said Evander. “So, be interesting and don’t let me down.”

The clothes shop, located on one of the smaller, quieter streets, offered some refuge from the noise and the bustle outside. Within five minutes of setting foot on dry land, Dusan wanted to be anywhere else, someplace quiet and remote and preferably smelling of trees and forest flowers. This city was too loud, too crowded. The smells were too sharp, the sun too hot, the gazes of the passing people too curious, especially when directed at Reijo. Even in his ragged, salt-stained clothes, he was still handsome, and Dusan couldn’t help but notice every glance thrown his way. He had been protecting Reijo on the ship from a bunch of sailors—would he need to protect him from a whole city now? Or was he just imagining those evaluating looks, expecting others to see Reijo the way he did?

Inside the shop, it was quieter, and cooler, and the wife of the shopkeeper offered them some sweet, cold drinks. Following Evander’s example, Dusan drank his in small sips, eyeing the fabrics hanging from the walls for display, as well as the ready-made clothes laid out on the table for their examination. From the next room, he heard muffled voices of the shopkeeper discussing something with Reijo.

“Fine, let’s take a look,” said the small, humped-back shopkeeper, returning into the room, and both Dusan and Evander turned and stared.

Reijo stepped in, wearing a sort of a dress, similar to the kind that Dusan had seen on some of the men outside—the richer-looking ones. It consisted of many layers of fabric, in different colors, most of them shades of blue, with golden yellow embroidery running along the edge of the wide sleeves, and along the hem of the dress. There was yet another embroidery of trees and flowers on the side of the garment. The shopkeeper must have taken trouble to brush and arrange Reijo’s hair as well, gathering some of it in a bun at the back of his head, leaving the rest to fall freely to his shoulders. The elegance of the hairdo now matched that of the dress.

Reijo was apparently quite aware how he looked. He smiled contentedly at Dusan’s stunned expression, then spread his hands and span around, his skirts, sleeves and hair flying in blurry waves around him. Dusan just stood there, watching, fully aware that this was probably the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

“How do I look?” Reijo asked, stopping, smiling, clearly knowing the answer.

“Not bad,” Evander admitted, looking pleased.

“What do you think?” Reijo turned to Dusan.

That I don’t deserve you? Dusan shook his head, banishing the thought.

“You look … presentable,” he said before clearing his throat. “The size is just right.”

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