Wishbone: Chapter 11

A shih-aan ship, the Praefah, arrived in the harbor on a hot summer morning. Sir had Wenley hitch the horses for a trip down to the docks to pick up his mail. Official correspondence arrived through the Council-in-Exile, but there were letters and small packages from Sir's clan on every ship, and the shih-aan found them vastly comforting. He brought Wishbone along to help carry them to the coach.

By the time the coach reached the dock, the cooling shadows had disappeared and heat radiated up from the stone and wood surfaces of the pier. The sun beat at their heads like an enemy. The dockworkers and errand boys moved as slowly as they could get away with without earning a beating.

The Praefah floated in the molten harbor. Boats traveled in both directions--offloading trade goods, bringing on casks of water and provisions. The shih-aan sailors' skin was burnt light-brown, and their manes faded by the sun and salt. In port they wore bleached linen shirts that covered their most obvious bodily differences from humans, but only the officers wore gloves. One officer met Sir on the dock and passed on some gossip along with the mail.

Wishbone balanced the stack of packages and letters in his arms while they walked back to the carriage. He was thinking of the cool wine cellar back at Sir's house as Sir opened the carriage door. Even the bay horses between the carriage shafts seemed to droop.

Something darted from the crowd,...