"And is Barnet in?"
"Yes. He returned at the afternoon break and has not since left his suite."
Rahniseeta, who knew that the northerners found the damp, sticky summer heat oppressive, was not surprised. She rose and excused herself to her friends.
"Save me one of those fruit crisps," she said after accepting their sympathy. "That is, if you're really sorry for me."
The kidisdu laughed, but Rahniseeta saw her slide a pastry to one side of the serving plate as a reminder.
Still in good spirits, Rahniseeta made her leisurely way down the storm-cooled corridors. A slim green snake glided across her path, then coiled up a pillar, freezing among the vines that grew there like a stem returned to its parent plant.
There was a legend about just that, and she thought Barnet would like it. Elwyn, too, had a childish eagerness for stories. After Derian, these two had become her favorites among the foreigners.
Thinking of Derian made Rahniseeta's cheeks warm, but it was not at all an unpleasant heat. With a smile on her face and her feet light, she turned down the corridor that led to the suite that Barnet continued to occupy alone, except on those rare nights Derian chose not to ride back to u-Bishinti.
What she heard as she drew closer to the gate made her stop, still as the snake among the vines, and listen.
Elwyn's voice, unmusical against the accompaniment of Barnet's fingers playing something idle and intricate on one of his stringed instruments, spoke eagerly.
"… and so we're sailing out tonight."
Barnet replied, laughter underlying his words, "Going to get lost again?"
Rahniseeta remembered the incident to which Barnet referred. The northerners had broken a line or something, and had ended up staying away all night. The event had been something of a sensation, for even those disdum who wanted to be rid of the foreigners wanted to do so on their own terms. The thought that they might have simply left had been unsettling.
The disdum of the Temple of Sea Beasts had been quick to reassure everyone that the boat on which the northerners had been sailing lacked the size and capacity to sail outside of the relatively sheltered bay, so even if the northerners had attempted to leave without permission, they were unlikely to get far. It had been distinctly anticlimactic when the small vessel had limped into the harbor the next morning.
"We didn't get lost then," Elwyn said, laughing in return, clearly aware he was being teased. "We won't tonight either. We know just where we're going. Want to know?"
Rahniseeta had started to move again, but once again she froze.
"Sure," Barnet said, "especially since I'm being invited to come along. Where?"
"To Misheemnekuru," Elwyn said, dropping his voice almost to a whisper. "Those islands in the bay. Waln's been saying there's treasure there, enough to set us all up as fine gentlemen back in the Isles."
"Enough to buy Waln Queen Valora's forgiveness," Barnet mused. "I wonder."
His tone changed.
"But, Elwyn, you know we're not to go to those islands. They're restricted, even to the Liglimom themselves."
"Oh, that's all right," Elwyn said dismissively. "We've got permission."
"Permission? Like Lady Blysse had permission?"
"I think so. Waln has talked about it to an aridisdu who's really important and knows all this stuff."
"And the aridisdu gave permission?" Barnet sounded distinctly disbelieving.
"Sort of," Elwyn admitted. This was clearly getting beyond what his rather simple intellect could handle, but he was obviously eager to convince Barnet. "It's like this. The islands were animals-only, no people, right up until Lady Blysse went there. No matter how strange she is, there's no doubting she's human, so the animals must not mind humans coming there anymore."
"And this is what the aridisdu told you?" Barnet did not sound convinced.
"Pretty much," Elwyn said. "Anyhow, he must believe it himself, because he's coming with us."
"He is?"
"Yep. And he's done more than that. I bet you wonder how we're going to get out of here with our loot."
"I can't say I had."
"Waln has. He's arranged with this aridisdu to have that ship they're getting ready in case they're going to send us home all set. The crew that's on board is friendly to Waln's aridisdu and will go with us. So it's up anchor and to home. That's why we really want you to come with us. You'll get treasure and home with honor. That's why we went out exploring, isn't it?"
It was a long speech for Elwyn and gave Rahniseeta a good idea just how carefully Waln Endbrook had been preparing for this moment. She also had no doubt who this aridisdu was. It had to be Shivadtmon—and would the crew he had prepared be members of Dantarahma's cabal? How would the rulers of the northern lands view Liglim if their first encounter with her people was with a group given to blood sacrifice?
Rahniseeta didn't dare let her mind wander to the possible ramifications of this, but she remembered Derian's tales of the century of war between his people and Barnet's—peoples who differed only in who their ruler was. How would they act toward people who looked and thought so differently?
She shivered, longing to run with this information to Harjeedian or Meiyal, to pass on the responsibility to anyone else, but she must risk remaining long enough to hear what Barnet decided.
Barnet had paused, even his fingers on the strings stilling as he thought. Now the music resumed, but the tune was no longer light.
"We did go out for those reasons," Barnet said slowly, "but I don't think this is the way to get honor and treasure. It just doesn't feel right. I've been living up here among the disdum, and while lots of them are unhappy with Lady Blysse's visit to Misheemnekuru, not many talk like this aridisdu."
"But Barnet… " Elwyn whined like a child. "You've gotta come with us. Waln says we'll need the extra hands."
Rahniseeta heard the instrument put aside, a chair being pushed back.
"I'll come with you," Barnet said, "though I'm not promising to take part in this mad venture. Maybe I can talk some sense into Waln Endbrook's head. At the least I'll learn if this aridisdu really thinks going to Misheemnekuru isn't sacrilege. Bide a moment while I get myself ready."
Rahniseeta did not dare wait any longer. Moving with great care to stay silent, she fled.
Rahniseeta's first thought was to confide in Harjeedian, but then she remembered that her brother was away and might not be back for hours. Although she had served them, she was not close to either the ikidisdu or iaridisdu of the Temple of the Cold Bloods. Moreover, her head spinning with what she had just learned, blending with warnings not to confide what she knew about Dantarahma's cabal to anyone lest that person be a secret member, she had begun to see enemies in even the most familiar faces.
She went to her suite, but it was indeed empty. As she changed into darker clothing, hardly knowing why she was doing so, she laid her plans.
Harjeedian was away. Derian had not yet returned from inquiring after the white mare—and might not return until tomorrow. Lady Blysse was either with Tiridanti and Truth or vanished somewhere. She was a great wanderer by night, and in any case, Rahniseeta did not fancy trying to explain this to the strange woman.
That left Meiyal, iaridisdu of the Horse, and her clerk as the only ones privy to the secret who might be reached. However, it would look very odd if Rahniseeta went to the Temple of the Horse at this hour. Looking odd was not a good thing.
Moving into the suite, Rahniseeta took writing implements and began writing letters. One was to Harjeedian and gave an account of what she had heard but nothing more. The second was to Derian, and included her suppositions that this newest development might somehow be connected to Dantarahma. She had to be rather cryptic about this last, omitting names other than that of Shivadtmon. Derian was smart. He'd work it out. The third was to Meiyal and included much the same information.
Rahniseeta left the note to Harjeedian in the usual place and prayed for Earth to grant him wisdom i
n his actions. The note for Derian she sealed multiple times and, as an afterthought, sprinkled with a bit of scent. The one to Meiyal she bound into a package with several sheets of blank paper. Then she took both with her to the front gate.
"Derian Counselor may come calling tonight," Rahniseeta said to the porter on duty, with a smile she hoped did not look too forced. "If he does, can you give this to him?"
"Gladly," said the porter, who had noticed Derian escorting Rahniseeta a time or two and thought he knew what made the lady look so strained.
"And I found I carried home some papers I was working on for Iaridisdu Meiyal. Could one of your messengers carry this packet to her residence? I fear she may need them early tomorrow."
The porter nodded. "It's a quiet evening. I'm sure one of the youngsters will be glad of a chance to stretch."
"Thank you," Rahniseeta said gratefully.
She waited until she was outside the door to pull her shawl over her head, hoping thus to conceal her features. Then, with a pounding heart, she hurried down side streets in the direction of the harbor, there to keep watch where the boat Waln and his crew had been using was usually docked.
I cannot stop them by myself. That kind of thing is for a minstrel tale such as Barnet loves to tell. But I can watch, and listen, and see how many go out and how well equipped
they are, and whether they are equipped for fighting or merely for robbery. That will certainly be useful and help will not be too far behind me. Meiyal, at least, will be in and she will act when she reads my message.
But what Rahniseeta could not know was that when the runner from the Temple of the Cold Bloods arrived at the Temple of the Horse, the porter there saw no reason to trouble his mistress for something that was not an emergency. Thus Rahniseeta's packet to Meiyal was placed squarely in the center of the iaridisdu's desk, waiting for morning.
Chapter XXXIV
The thunderstorm some hours earlier had spent every drop of moisture in the air, and so the stars showed clear and bright against the silent blackness of the night sky. Waln could almost believe that, as Shivadtmon had said, the omens were in favor of this expedition.
But he wasn't going to rely on omens for the success of a venture on which so much rested. Ever since he'd won the last of the shipwrecked sailors over to his cause, Waln had been drilling them on what they should do when the time finally came. Waln had known for some hands of days now that they would not have a long time to prepare, nor would they likely be able to set the date themselves. That would be up to Shivadtmon, for Shivadtmon would be the one who could arrange for a sympathetic—or at least malleable—crew aboard the larger vessel they must take in order to make their escape when they were finished on Misheemnekuru.
Waln hadn't been precisely pleased at just how little lead time Shivadtmon had given them, but when he weighed that inconvenience against the increasing restlessness evidenced by Rarby and Shelby—and a few signs that Wiatt, at least, was beginning to change his mind—he had decided that little lead time or not, they must move. He had set the sailors to their various tasks, reminding them as he did so, "We won't leave until well after dark, so don't rush; don't look anxious. If you have a student to teach, by all means, give the lesson, but don't let anything slip."
As far as Waln could tell, no one had, but some time after the dinner things had been cleared away, the first complication arose. It came in the person of Barnet Lobster, escorted by a worried and yet excited Elwyn. By the worry on the half-wit's face Waln guessed that Barnet had raised some doubts, but by the excitement Waln felt fairly certain that those doubts had not been sufficient to unset the twin hooks of buried treasure and a voyage home that he'd used to land this particular fish.
Barnet had about him a touch of what Waln thought of as his "court manner," by which Waln guessed that the minstrel was more nervous than he might seem to a less insightful observer.
"Waln, may I speak with you—privately?"
"Certainly," Waln said, glad that the others would not be witness to the undoubted eloquence Barnet would bring to his position. "My suite is just up the stairs."
As soon as they were inside and the door firmly shut, Barnet looked squarely at Waln.
"I don't think you should go to Misheemnekuru, Waln," he said without preamble. "If you must, by all means take the waiting ship and sail her north. Along with the information you'll bring back with you, she's prize enough to reestablish your fortune. Queen Valora has been seeking allies outside of those lands we already know. She'll find excuse to swallow her pride if you bring news of a possibility. You might even smooth things with Hawk Haven by bearing word of where the king's favorite and his counselor have gone."
Waln smiled sardonically.
"And you really think the Liglimom will ally with the Isles after I steal one of their ships?"
"I think they, too, will find a way to work around their pride, especially since you can always argue you were misled by that aridisdu of yours—Shivadtmon's his name, isn't it?—into believing that you were on another diplomatic voyage. From what Elwyn told me, the ship's crew already are of Shivadtmon's party."
Waln was momentarily tempted. Then he recalled the probable treasures of Misheemnekuru, of his dream of returning to the Isles dripping with wealth and hinting at power. No, he wouldn't be swayed, but Barnet must be put off gently. Having that facile tongue at his side when he returned to put his case to Queen Valora would be invaluable.
"Shivadtmon tells me," Waln said, "that there will be no difficulty with our landing on Misheemnekuru. He says that the dominant view is that this would no longer be sacrilege. Besides, I have promised the others wealth with which to pull themselves from their low stations. It will be harder to keep their cooperation without that."
"Elwyn related some of what Shivadtmon had told you," Barnet said, "and I wonder at his motivations. I've talked to a good many disdum, and few seem as certain on this matter as he is. As for treasure, you were a wealthy man in the Isles. You will certainly be so again. Use that to promise the others their reward."
Again, Waln was momentarily tempted. Then he shook his head.
"No. There is no question as to what course of action I am taking. The only question that remains is whether you are with us or against us."
Waln let a note of threat fill his voice at this last. It would be good for Barnet to remember where he was and that his court relations did not count here. Here Barnet Lobster was only a smaller man facing a much larger one—and the larger one had allies within call.
But Barnet neither wilted at the implied threat nor resumed his argument. Instead, he fell silent, as if weighing what he wished to say—or whether he should even say it. At last, Barnet cleared his throat and said:
"Waln, I'm with you, but only on conditions. I'll not set foot on Misheemnekuru. I don't believe the truce or treaty or whatever it is between the yarimaimalom and the Liglimom has been broken. I won't be party to breaking it."
Waln started to speak, but Barnet held up a hand.
"Hear me out. I won't land on Misheemnekuru, but I'll help you take the ship and sail her north. I'll even help you sail whatever smaller vessel you plan to take to Misheemnekuru. I just won't go ashore and dig for treasure."
He stopped, but again signaled he was not finished.
"You'll want to know my reasons for this—and, flatly, much as I would like to see my family again, it isn't homesickness or anything like that. Are you aware I have a lover among the disdum of the Temple of Flyers?"
Waln nodded. Shelby, half-envious, half-amused, had brought that salacious bit of gossip back one day.
"Well," Barnet went on. "Ours was no great lovers' tryst, but she liked me for more than my voice and the novelty of my pale skin. From time to time, she dropped little bits of gossip about the debates among the various factions of the disdum. One of these, told in all seriousness, was that I should take care before I boarded any ship to take me home—at least unless I was very certain about the captain
's orders."
Waln chuckled. "Did she mean to keep you here?"
Barnet's mouth shaped a half-grin.
"At first I thought something similar—that her warning was nothing more than sweet talk. I pressed her, though, and she said she'd heard rumors that the vessel being prepared had no other course than to carry its passengers to their deaths. She gave proof enough to make me worried. That's why I'd sail home on a ship with you as captain and men I knew as crew."
"I've heard similar rumors," Waln said, "and not only from Shivadtmon. These Liglimom can argue a problem into more threads than you'd find in a piece of tight-woven silk. It comes from having no monarch to tell them what to do. Every person's a little monarch in his own head—trying to sway the others and stay in good with their deities as well."
"You may be right," Barnet said, "but whether or not those who end up in charge are those who want my death or not, I'd rather assure myself by sailing home before the disdum make up their minds. That's why I'd go with you—but on my terms."
"And if I don't accept them?"
"I think you will," Barnet said easily. "You wouldn't have sent Elwyn after me if you didn't have use for me. Otherwise, I'm one more with whom you have to split your treasure. Think of it this way. I'm not asking for the treasure. All I'm asking for is a working passage. My being along will even spare you another hand to treasure-hunt, for I won't leave the boat."
Waln made up his mind instantly. Bluster and fuss hardly made sense when, after all, as Barnet said, Waln wanted the minstrel along and cooperative.
"I'll sign you on then," Waln said, thrusting out his hand. "On your terms with my word on it that I'll not ask you to change your mind."
"Done, then," Barnet said, returning the clasp. "I only wish we could get Derian and Lady Blysse away as well."
Waln shook his head. "That's not possible. Not only can't they be reached, honestly, they both hate me. They'd accept you, me, and all the rest dead before they accepted my command."
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