The Last Talisman by Licia Troisi Page A

of persuasive techniques—which was, in truth, rather scarce—and every ounce of his good sense to convince Sennar to wait to set off until dawn.
    Just as soon as the sun tinged the western sky, the sorcerer burst into the knight’s room and shook him from his bed. “It’s time to go,” he said.
    Sennar dragged Aymar, still half-asleep, to the dragon, and they took flight.
    Sennar was hoping Aymar would bring him to one of the arshet, but the knight insisted it would be impossible. His dragon had nowhere to land on the sharp and jagged rocks. Sennar would have to settle for a point along the coast of Lamar, where he could rent a boat. Fortunately, the count had given him a bit of money.
    Dusk had come and gone by the time they reached Lamar. Sennar leaped down from the dragon, bid farewell to Aymar with hardly a thank you, and hurried on his way, heading straight for the port.
    The city was a vast labyrinth of narrow alleyways that opened out now and then onto little squares, and Sennar could barely keep his bearings. When he finally reached the port and its docks, he was greeted by a swarm of ships. The moon was high. Procuring a boat at this hour would be difficult. At the fifth dock he came to, however, the sorcerer ran into a kind soul, willing, at least, to hear his request.
    â€œA boat? At this hour?” asked the wizened old man. His back was hunched, weighted down by time, and he was completely bald. “For what?” he added, twisting a rope in his callous, bony hands.
    â€œI have to reach the Arshet,” Sennar muttered impatiently. “I can pay you right away.” He held out the money.
    â€œMoney’s not the issue,” the old man insisted, nonetheless glancing down at the coins in Sennar’s hand. “It’s tricky to sail these waters at night. Do you know how to handle a boat?”
    â€œIt can’t be all that difficult. …” Sennar muttered. His words were met with a hearty laugh.
    The old man finally stopped laughing and eyed Sennar again. “Later on, there’s a group of fishermen going out to sea. You’d be better off hitching a ride with them.”
    â€œWhere are they?”
    â€œIt’s still early,” said the old man. “I don’t know where you’re from, but around here this is dinner time.”
    As if there were any time to eat. …
    Despite his determination, Sennar’s stomach began to growl. He blushed.
    The old man shot him a look of amusement. “Listen, young man, you seem to be a bit hard up, and you won’t get very far in such a state. Why don’t you have dinner with me? Then I’ll introduce you to a fisherman I know.”
    â€œI’m not sure I have enough money for both the boat and dinner.”
    The old man’s expression changed. “Where the devil do you come from? Here in the Land of the Sea, we’re known for our hospitality. Quit jabbering like a fool.” He flung open the door and showed the boy into his hut, which faced out onto the pier.
    Sennar was served a bowl of fish soup like the soup his mother often made. The smell and flavor stirred up some of his fondest memories. It pained him that he wouldn’t have time to visit his own village and see his mother.
    Soon enough, it was time to go. They left the hut and walked together along the dock. The old man asked Sennar the one question he dreaded most. “So what makes you want to head out to the Arshet?”
    Sennar hesitated. He couldn’t think of a plausible lie. “I’m looking for something there,” he mumbled.
    â€œIn what sense?” the old man insisted.
    Sennar let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, but it’s a sort of secret. … In fact, it is a secret. … I really can’t tell you.”
    â€œWell, I suppose everyone has a few skeletons in the closet,” the old man replied philosophically, and Sennar thanked the heavens for the discretion