Stalemate

Part IV- Changing Tides | Chapter 18

There was nothing to do but watch the Apothecary fade into the horizon. Doon sat on the damp sand, watching in a daze as Dinor threw things. Rocks, shells, limp seaweed. Anything he could get his hands on.

Doon swirled sand into shapes absentmindedly. He was surprisingly calm. He didn't start when he began to hear voices in the distance, clouds of dust sent up as the city awoke. Here he was, back at square one. He was out of ideas. Downtrodden. Damp and tired of the scent of salt that chapped his lips.

Doon watched Dinor struggle to lift a large rock over his head. With a strained grunt, he threw it into the water. It made a plunk sound, stirred up the silt into a dark cloud, and sank to the bottom. His breathing was quick and panicked, as if he'd been doing more than just throwing things into oblivion. Then, finally exhausted, he fell to the ground and heaved. He stared out at the water, at the burnt-orange hue singing the horizon, where the last fleck of the ship was consumed by the morning light. His eyes were glassy, and he pursed his lips to keep from crying.

Dinor looked over at him then, his face hopeless, his pink nose sniffling. "We gotta go."

Doon knew this. But as Dinor stood up and dusted himself off, he remained stationary. He could make it on his own, he knew that. That's what he'd wanted. But Dinor was staring down at him with his jaw tightened. Finally his patience seemed to be spent. He was tired of Doon's silence. Of his distrust. Doon could see it.

The look made him understand. This was his pride talking. Both of them knew he needed Dinor, but he wasn't ready to admit it yet. The way Dinor stood, his drooping shoulders and dazed face—it incited something in Doon. He looked down at his lap, avoiding Dinor's frustrated gaze.

Finally, Doon swallowed his pride and stood up silently. Dinor gave a weak, satisfied smile and turned towards the city. A sandstone staircase was set in the dunes a few paces from the docks, flanked by a stone seawall, leveling out onto a sandstone road that reached into the beginning of the city like a tongue. "We have to get through before daylight sets in. We'll take the alleys."

They meandered up the slight towards the staircase, Dinor in front, his head down. The breeze whistled as it blew against Doon, slinging thin layers of sand over his shoes. The sand was coming in from the beach, swirling in tiny torrents that concealed the blackened boarded pathway, only to be pulled away as if the sand itself were its own tide. Doon watched as some of the mites fell between the crevices in the wood, always replaced with the next gust. He adjusted his coat and sunk his hands into his pockets. Somehow, despite the new climate, he still felt cold. Perhaps it was his nerves.

As they neared the staircase, they passed empty vendor stands that rustled in the breeze. A washed-out sign strutted on a single post read, City of Gildrey. Doon snuffed in the lingering combination of the sweet tropical fruits and the sour sea fish. He glimpsed the empty baskets before the fruit stand and the lonely cleaver stuck into the surface of the butcher's stand. The wind howled against him. There was something eerie about the untouched booths, set awkwardly in the sand. Doon didn't like silence in places it didn't belong. For a moment, he pictured himself sitting on the porch that morning. The clamoring of the horseshoe. The vacant hill. Subconsciously, he shuffled faster to catch up to Dinor.

They left behind the chilly, vacant beach and the waiting ships on the harbour. They began to ascend the staircase that led into the city. Patches of lush green shrubbery sprouted on either side of the stairway against the seawall; Doon could hear creatures rustling about deep inside the tangled mess of weeds and stems. Dinor's shoulders were still slumped, and he walked stiffly, not once checking to be sure that Doon was following. Doon had already observed his disposition enough to know that this was unlike him. Strangely, he almost felt for him. How easy it had been for Peter to cast him off.