When the day of the mission came, Yelwa said goodbye to me shortly after noon and set off for the place where the cart that would transport the spices from the destination was supposed to wait. I carefully followed her. She didn't notice me because it would never have crossed her mind that I might be following her like this, and she probably had her head full of other concerns. I managed to keep up with her quite easily until she finally turned into a small, run-down courtyard where, as I quickly discovered, a small cart with a harnessed bay horse was waiting. Two companions were already there – a tall young man, about the same age as Yelwa, with long black hair in a braid and a face marked by smallpox scars, and another man with grey-brown hair and a bushy beard reaching down to his large belly. They greeted Yelwa enthusiastically. Someone appeared in the doorway of the house and began explaining something to them. All three listened attentively. That was my moment. Nimbly, I ran as quietly as possible to the cart in small but quick steps, slid under the tarp that was draped over it, and hid. It smelled terrible and the air was stifling, but I didn't mind. I was determined to help Yelwa. My heart pounded wildly with fear and excitement.
The voices drew closer to me and the cart. I clearly heard Yelwa's soft voice and a rough, deep one, which must have belonged to the bearded man. Then I felt the cart shift and creak slightly. Someone must have gotten on. It happened two more times, and then finally, a whip cracked, and the cart started moving, wheels creaking and the bay's hooves clattering. The mission had begun.
The journey was exhausting. The cart jolted, first on cobblestones and then swayed on a bumpy country road, bumping over protruding stones. During one such jolt, I painfully hit my chin and almost cried out. When I could no longer bear the smell under the tarp, the cart came to a halt. At first, I panicked, thinking we had already reached our destination, but then I overheard that the two men just needed to relieve themselves in the bushes. I heard the two pairs of feet moving away. I realized this was the best moment to reveal my presence. I wanted to wait long enough so they couldn't send me home, but not so long that it would cause a scene at the destination and complicate everything. They had to know about me in advance if I was going to help. I gathered my courage and timidly whispered Yelwa's name. Too quietly, because all I got in return was a long yawn and the creak of the coachman's seat. I tried again, louder this time. This time it worked. The tarp was abruptly lifted, and I squinted into the blinding sunlight.
"Esme? Esme?!" Yelwa cried out in disbelief. "What on earth are you doing here?!"
I had expected such a reaction, so I was somewhat prepared and didn't flinch at her indignant voice. I was determined to defend my place.
"I came to help you! I knew you'd be against it, so I had no choice but to sneak into the cart like this."
Yelwa grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a small shake as she continued, "I guess you didn't realize I have a damn good reason why you always stay home! This is absurd!"
"But I want to help! Do you even know how I feel, waiting alone day after day, not knowing if you'll even come back? I always waited obediently, but I can't anymore, I just can't! I have to help you with this mission!"
"Stop talking nonsense! You're only going to get hurt!"
"But I—" I began, but Yelwa gently yet firmly placed her hand on my cheek. It surprised me so much that I fell silent.
"I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you," she whispered in a trembling voice, looking at me pleadingly.
I wanted to tell her I felt always the same, but I didn't get the chance. The men finally emerged from the bushes and rushed back to the cart when they noticed something was going on. A heated argument followed among the three thieves. At first, Yelwa insisted we return and take me back. Her companions protested. They also resisted taking me along. There was even a suggestion to leave me there on the country road, but Yelwa immediately and coldly dismissed that idea. In the end, though reluctantly, they decided I could continue the journey.
I sat huddled at the back of the cart, feeling uneasy. Only now was my initial excitement beginning to fade, and I started to admit that maybe it had been a mistake to come. The rest of the journey passed in tense silence. I could feel the older bearded man occasionally casting a hostile glance at me. When it happened once too often, Yelwa shot him a glare as well, and from then on, he kept his eyes on the road ahead.
We arrived at the location just after sunset. It was a small port town on the river Anuku, where merchant boats and large cargo ships constantly passed. Most of the town consisted of docks, but they were half-empty. It seemed that even though the town had been built on a mighty river, it wasn't thriving. Foolishly, I asked Yelwa why such an important shipment was being handed over in such a remote place. She gently hinted at what I should have realized immediately – it wasn't a legal trade.
We turned into a courtyard right by the river, where two rickety piers jutted out. Moored at one of them was an exotic-looking boat with a red sail worn by the wind. We turned the cart around so we wouldn't have to do it later, and Yelwa tugged on the reins, bringing the horse to an abrupt stop. The three companions nodded to each other and jumped down one by one. I was about to follow, but Yelwa stopped me while her companions continued to the red brick house.
"Esme, please stay here, alright? We're just going to check in, make sure everything's in order, load the crates onto the cart, and leave. Nothing complicated."
"So... so I can't help with anything?" I asked, disappointed that I had come all this way for nothing.
"Someone has to watch the cart," Yelwa said encouragingly. "That's a very important job. You can hold the horse's bridle, so it doesn't get spooked. I'll be right back." She was already turning to go when she suddenly stopped and came back quickly. Something was gleaming in her hand. I squinted and saw it was a small pocketknife. I looked at her anxiously.
"But you just said this wouldn't be dangerous."
"And it won't be, but you can never be too sure," she explained soothingly. "Please, it would really ease my mind if you took it."
Silently, I took the knife. It felt unpleasantly cold. Yelwa gave me one last encouraging nod and finally ran off to join her companions, who were already waiting at the door.
I tucked the knife into the pouch at my waist and took the bay's bridle. I shuffled nervously from foot to foot. Despite the heat during the day, it had grown quite chilly after sunset. My heart pounded, even though nothing was happening. My imagination was in overdrive. In every corner where the growing darkness gathered, I saw an enemy with a dagger wanting to sabotage our plan. But none emerged. Apart from the frantic barking of a dog in the distance, the docks were silent.
Finally, four figures emerged from the brick house in the glow of a lamp. One of them waved at me to come over. I trotted over as fast as I could and almost instinctively grabbed Yelwa's hand in her shiny black glove.
"Here it is," the older man who was leading us to the boat said in a raspy voice.
The lamp revealed several large and smaller crates on the rocking boat, marked with symbols I couldn't read. Amidst the fishy smell, I even caught a faint exotic scent that must have belonged to our shipment. But there was no time to waste. The three adults each grabbed a crate, and Yelwa encouraged me to take a smaller one. I clumsily picked it up with hands that immediately began to sweat, making the crate slippery and quite heavy for me. I didn't care, though. I was thrilled to finally contribute.
As I returned to the boat, panting, for another crate, I noticed the old man who had brought us there shifting nervously. He kept squinting into the darkness toward the courtyard gate and anxiously tapping his foot. I tried to ignore it, but I didn't have a good feeling. I picked up my pace.
I had to lean against the cart for a moment to catch my breath. Even carrying the small crates was exhausting for me. I was just about to go get another one when someone violently grabbed my arm.