Dun Darlow

Their three day journey to Dun Darlow progressed without issue. Shellah marveled at the clear skies and calm seas atypical for springtime in the Shielings. There had been no sign of the distinctive long ships of the Reavers. That afternoon, the round black tower after which Dun Darlow took its name appeared on the horizon. After the mate confirmed with an armed launch from the Dun of their business, they were escorted into the harbor. With some reconnaissance with the merchants onboard, Shellah and Jonas had recommendations for lodgings in town suitable for Nessah. They soon disembarked into the town.

Dun Darlow was a cluster of greasy wharves outside the city wall, and the tower and town were packed within. Tightly clustered brownstone row houses lined close streets that wound up the hill towards the tribal Dun, narrow streets seemingly too small for the tall, stout, wool-bound people that bustled within them. Everything was stained with peat soot. It cast an ochre pall across the otherwise seaside blue skies above. Sheep and chickens ran loose everywhere. Nessah rubbed a smear of something off her skirt with distaste.

“I’m glad we’re not here for long,” she said. “Gah, what a place!” It was hard to hear her over the preferred means of tribal communication within the Dun: shouting.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a hellhole,” agreed Jonas. “Makes Northport look like Larinium in comparison. You have to have a real reason to be here, otherwise, why?” He kicked at a chicken scurrying across their path.

Nessah pointed to some dripping laundry hanging to dry above the street, already dirtied by the peat ash drifting in the air. “Why do they even bother?”

“Oh, c’mon,” complained Shellah. “This is home. Or was at one point. Anyway, the whisky balances this all out. Or that’s what we tell ourselves, anyway.” She shifted hers and Nessah’s bags on her back, while Jonas kept an eye on Nessah’s safety. They were constantly jostled by passers-by.

“It would have to,” said Nessah, archly. “Speaking of, where are we headed? It had better have an extra large wash basin so I can sanitize myself.” She slid on some goose poop, and Jonas caught her arm before she could fall. “Really? It’s just gross. Why Lloel left Corom City to settle here I do not know.”

“A little patience, please. The Wild Rose Inn should be right off this next corner, up the hill a little,” said Shellah. “I remember it being a nice place, and a number of our fellow shipmates will be here. Merchants are typically picky about their accommodations. And things do improve the further you get up the hill.”

“Yes, let’s get settled. The sooner we are in, the sooner we are out of here,” said Nessah.

The Wild Rose Inn had what looked to be a somewhat cleaner exterior. A footman waited at the entrance, and cheerfully took their bags while Jonas spoke to the innkeeper to arrange for their rooms. They were soon shown a small suite up a twisting staircase. Their main room had cozy tapestries and a small fireplace with fresh turves. There was a private bedroom for Nessah while two cots were set up by the footman for Shellah and Jonas in their main room. Shellah got everyone’s bags sorted while Nessah freshened up and Jonas did some reconnaissance around the building.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He returned shortly. “Everything looks good! When you ladies are ready, we should check out the food and whisky downstairs. Looks like they’re going to have some music, too. In the meantime, I’m going to take a brief nap!”

“And then we can come up and discuss our plans for tomorrow,” said Shellah. “We should rest while we can.”

Later, Nessah’s spirits seemed to improve with whisky, a solid supper, and lively music. Shellah got a flask to take up to their room, and asked the innkeeper to bring up fresh water for their wash basins in the morning. While Jonas got their fire going, Shellah carefully poured whisky into three striped cockle shells that were traditional to serving the liquor in the Isles. Nessah settled into a tall-backed chair by the fire and reached for one of the cockles.

“So, about tomorrow,” said Nessah. “I’ll be looking for the Hoarfast House. Lloel Hoarfast was my old instructor at university. He is a renown lore master, and is rumored to keep a large library at his house here in town.”

“The clan houses are all up the hill, it should be easy to find,” said Shellah, slurping her whisky from its shell. “Every house will have a clan badge above its door, Hoarfast’s is a blue snowflake on a white ground.”

“I might need a couple of days there, depending on what Lloel knows and what’s in his library in town. He might have more materials on Hoarfast I’ll need to see.”

“Well, I hope everything is in town,” said Jonas. “The Wind Dancer will depart to Northport later this week, once these merchants have bought their fleeces. There isn’t another ship expected in port anytime soon with the Reavers about.”

Shellah remembered exactly where Hoarfast Island was. It was the largest island near Skyfast in the outer archipelago, and home to her sister’s clan. “Hoarfast is a few days sail away from here. The quickest way… we’d have to get across the main island and find a ferry from Dun Wislow, and if you think this town is a dump, you haven’t seen Dun Wislow.”

“May Lloel have everything I need here so we don’t have to visit his damn country seat,” said Nessah. She motioned for a refill. “This stuff does make this town better, if largely by encouraging forgetting.”

“That’s how it works,” admitted Shellah. “I also have a cantrip for the headache you’ll have in the morning.”

“Great.” Nessah hoisted herself out of the big chair, entered her room and shut the door. “This place just gets better and better,” they heard her grumble from inside.

Shellah and Jonas sat by the fire for a while. They listened to the peat crackle on the hearth. The room was cozy, quiet, clean, and safe within the dun’s walls. Shellah swirled more whisky inside the purple interior of the shell cup.

“I have a feeling we’re going to Dun Wislow,” she said. “Everything’s been too easy thus far. I don’t trust it.”

“Me neither,” Jonas agreed. “Who needs two bodyguards to visit an old man in a library? We’ve been doing this too long, Shell.”

“That’s for sure.” Shellah swigged her whisky and felt its fire warm her tongue and throat. “Got to enjoy this comfort while we can.”