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One evening when they left the school, Stollo needed to return directly to the temple, so Pietro headed back to his lodgings alone. The first chugger to come clicking along was the one that would make the entire loop around the city at a maddeningly slow pace, but Pietro wasn’t in a hurry and it had been a while since he made this particular journey. So he climbed on and secured a seat by the window and prepared himself for a very long ride.
But a few stops later he was pushing through the knot of standing riders who were holding onto the overhead rail near the exit. “Excuse me—please, I need to get off—excuse me!” After some grumbling, they let him through, and Pietro stepped off into the Zessin district.
He’d rarely spent much time here, so he took a moment just to look around. It was strange to see so many people with similar features and coloring, but familiar, too, from the time he had spent wandering the islands. He caught the scent of specialty spices and the aroma of cooking meat, and he took in a deep, appreciative breath. It didn’t smell exactly right without the seasoning of the ever-present salt breeze, but it still made him hungry. Maybe he’d stop at the outdoor food market and pick up a meal to take back to his rooms tonight.
He strolled slowly down the short road that seemed to form the heart of the district, glancing in store windows and pausing to admire a few lingering purple blossoms from a flowering bush. Lovely color, terrible scent. A few feet away was a clothing and accessory shop, so he pushed the door open and went in.
He had had some vague idea of buying one of the loose sets of cotton shirts and belted trousers that served as standard attire for islander men. But as soon as he noticed the jewelry counter in back, he realized what he had really come here to find.
He made his way to the back of the shop to examine the chazissas on display. Did he need Zessaya in her martial pose, a spear clutched in her hand and a look of ferocity on her face? He was somewhat more inclined to the goddess in her comforting mood, cradling a baby to her breast. Cordelan knew he’d had very little in the way of comforting in recent years—and none at all from the god himself.
A middle-aged man came over to see if he needed help. Automatically, Pietro checked out the man’s bracelets. Shopkeeper, according to the circlet on the left hand; married man with four children, according to the right.
“I’m interested in a chazissa,” Pietro told him.
The shopkeeper tried not to look skeptical. “For a friend?”
Pietro smiled slightly. “For myself. I had one and then—I gave it to someone who needed the goddess’s intervention more than I did.”
“You do not look like an island man.”
“No, but I spent some time there and grew to respect Zessaya very much.”
“Oh? Where were you living?”
Pietro listed the small towns he had visited, and the shopkeeper grew friendlier as it became clear Pietro wasn’t lying. They even found a few people they knew in common, at least by reputation.
“Which pose speaks to you?” the shopkeeper finally asked.
“I have been trying to decide,” Pietro said.
“Is there a particular challenge you’re facing? I find that when people can figure out the focus of their lives, it helps them choose a chazissa.”
“Very wise,” Pietro approved. “Let’s see, my challenge.” He laughed softly. “Coming to an understanding of the way the world works. Sorting out the true from the false. Recovering my faith that there is a sense of order to the days. Is there a pose for that?”
But the other man was reaching into his case and pulling out one of the leather cords hung with a cherloshe charm. He held it up so the small stone figurine was at Pietro’s eye level. The goddess had her head bent down so that her eyes appeared to be reading a tiny book that she held open in her two white hands.
“The pose of knowledge,” the shopkeeper said. “It’s very popular among students and teachers, but I have also found that it appeals to sojourners such as yourself.” Clearly he had been checking out Pietro’s bracelets just as Pietro had been studying his.
Pietro closed his hand around the little charm and instantly felt better. “Most excellent! A perfect choice!”
Pietro wouldn’t even let the shopkeeper wrap the necklace for him; he just slipped the cord over his head and tucked the amulet under his shirt. It felt briefly cool against his skin, but quickly warmed to his own body temperature.
“You will have to write the friend you gave your chazissa to, and tell him that you have found one even better,” the shopkeeper said.
“I’ll have to do that,” Pietro said. Against his inclination, against his will, against all his better instincts, he found himself digging for information in the most casual voice. “I keep thinking he might come to Corcannon someday. He’s an islander, so he’d probably end up in this district. Is there anybody who keeps track of who comes and goes? Who might be able to tell me if he’s in town?”
“Most islanders stop by Zessaya’s temple pretty soon after they arrive. The guardian, she’d probably know if your friend was here.”
“The temple guardian! Of course. I’ll check with her. Thank you most sincerely.”
“You’re welcome. Come back if you decide you need another pose!”
Pietro laughed and headed for the door. “And I just might!”
He stepped outside, striding off confidently even though he had forgotten to ask where the temple might be. But after a few steps, he slowed and then stopped, pausing to lean against a shop wall as he reconsidered what he was doing.
If Aussen’s family had sent her to the city in the company of a trusted friend, it made sense that this friend would take her to the island district—and that Aussen’s family would eventually show up and start looking for her here. If Pietro had figured that out, Jayla undoubtedly had as well. The odds seemed very slim, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Jayla would drop by the temple at the very moment Pietro was talking to the guardian, trying to look all innocent as he asked about the child in Jayla’s keeping.
