He walked from the room, leaving Aly to stare after him. What had he meant by that? she wondered, baffled. She hadn't said she thought him stupid, or lacking a mind!
He's so touchy anymore, she thought, biting her lower lip when it dared to quiver. He's the only real friend I have here, the only one I can trust not to turn on me if I don't do all the right things. If he doesn't like me . . .
She refused to finish the thought. She had work to do. Opening a box, she drew out clothes and put them on: a black hood that left only her eyes uncovered, a black suit that covered her from chin to ankles and wrists, black gloves, and long slippers that laced up over the legs of the suit. The entire thing was made of oiled cloth to repel water and spelled to make anyone who looked at her forget she was there. For the moment she let the hood dangle at her back, so that her own people could see her when they arrived.
They came as the watch called the midnight hour, all dressed as Aly was, carrying robes, gowns, and cloaks. Aly herself had put on the hat, veils, and loose overrobes of a Carthaki woman of noble blood. Small, dark-faced Jimarn wore the same disguise over her own black suit. Fegoro donned a Tortallan Bazhir's robes and headcloth. Lokak wore a southern Carthaki's full-sleeved shirt and billowing trousers under a cloak and turban, posing as Jimarn and Aly's escort. Yoyox dressed in the all-covering black hood and habit of the Black God's priesthood, having sacrificed at the god's shrine that afternoon in repentance, in case the god should decide he was being impious. None of them was worried: of all the gods, the Black God of death was the most forgiving.
From a secret basement under the laundry house, they took a tunnel that led under a block of wealthy houses, emerging in a shed where the slaves who tended the nearby public garden kept their tools. Walking casually, stopping to buy treats from late-night street vendors, the “Carthakis” and the “Bazhir” strolled down to the part of Dockmarket that stayed open late. Yoyox was already there, having taken a different route: a watchman's shack at the landward edge of one of the merchant docks. A soldiers' checkpoint was set at the end of the dock, but it was empty, as were others set to guard the landings. With the harbor's mouth blocked by a protective chain at night, there seemed little point in soldiers' waiting for ships that would not land until after dawn.
The watchman was a friend. He left for a walk as Aly and her people removed and folded their disguises, tied hoods and gloves in place, and checked that measuring cords were wrapped securely around their waists. Once they were ready, Yoyox opened the hidden trapdoor at the rear of the shack, revealing a ladder down to the edge of land under the docks. Silently they all climbed down into the stench and ooze of the harbor's edge. Here the boulders that lay against the earth were covered with a dark slime, which made the footing very tricky. Jimarn, who knew the harbor's reeking edges better than anyone after nearly a month of removing bodies from the Examples pier, led the way. They stayed connected to one another by a length of rope. The spells that kept them safe from observation made it impossible to see each other. Their only lamp was a small crystal globe that threw off enough light to show their path north and east along the shore, under the docks that supplied those who imported and exported goods to and from Rajmuat.
At last they came to a halt under one of three docks separated from the merchant docks by a fine chain net, the farthest edge of which was anchored well past the end of the wooden piers. It did not quite reach the boulders, which meant that Aly and her people could slip into the gap between land and net. Only there did they slide their hoods from their heads so that they could see one another. They didn't have to worry about drunken sailors stumbling through here and catching a glimpse of them. This stretch of the Dockmarket was guarded at street level. The three docks that served the slave markets were set between two nets designed to stop any slave desperate enough to jump ship and try to escape.
Quickly they separated, Yoyox and Jimarn to the farthest of the three docks that supplied the slave markets, Fegoro and Lokak to the second, and Aly to the first, and shortest, of the three: the one where the ship in which she had been a slave had moored. Working quickly and memorizing their results, they took the measurements of the length, width, height, and thickness of all the wood that made up the docks. Once they had mapped the area thoroughly, they gathered on the other side of the net, covered their heads and faces again, and returned to the watchman's shack. There they resumed their disguises for the trip back to Balitang House.
Only after they had all written down their measurements on a map that Aly had made did they return to the laundry house. Guchol, Atisa's sister, waited for them there. Guchol took charge of the stinking suits and thrust them into a large tub of specially treated water to soak, while Aly and Jimarn cleaned up in a second tub filled with soapy water, and the three men scrubbed themselves in a third.
“A good night's work, my lambs,” Aly told them as she dried herself. “And a better night to come quite soon, I think.”
“Yes, Duani,” her pack mates chorused.
Before Aly went to bed, she stopped in the refitted storage room that served Ochobu and Ysul as a workroom. Picking up a slate and chalk, she wrote a request in code for twelve pots of the sticky, flammable paste called blazebalm.
Trotting downstairs the next morning to get more of the soap Ochobu made specially for Dove, Aly discovered a number of servants were already at work, taking bouquets of flowers out into the public areas of the house.
“They know Lady Sarai's back, all right,” Boulaj told Aly as she carried a delicate arrangement of orchids up to her mistress's rooms. “Ulasim says it's worse even than the year before they were exiled. And there are some for Her Grace and Lady Dove.”
“I know Dove will be pleased,” Aly said, straightfaced. “She lives for admirers.” As Boulaj snorted and continued up the stairs, Aly went in search of one of her pack. She found plump Atisa arranging a bouquet of bird of paradise flowers in a vase inside the large, formal sitting room.
“Good morning, Duani,” Atisa said cheerfully. “Are you still dazzled by the magnificence of the palace?”
“I was more dazzled by the idea of man-eating fish,” Aly replied, helping to position greenery around the orange blooms. “Atisa, you help Chenaol with the market shopping, don't you?”
“Every other day,” Atisa said with a nod that made her pinned brown curls leap free of her rolled hair. “When she goes to the fish market. She likes to take Hiraos or Rasaj to the meat markets.”
Aly grinned. The two men of her pack chosen by Chenaol were the most handsome ones, which Aly suspected was the reason Chenaol requested their help with the heavier meat. “You can't say where you heard it, mind, but tell one or two people Topabaw is cursing the regents for not being firm enough with these rebellions on the outlying islands. Have you identified the best market gossips?”
Atisa pressed a hand to her bosom, shocked. “Duani! The first thing we did was mark out who talks and who is heard around town. We knew you'd never let us forget it if you came and we didn't have sources ready!”
“I feared you'd be so busy beating these city boys off with sticks that you'd forget your old Duani,” replied Aly. “But I see how I have wronged you. Pass the message down through your recruits, will you? They should spread some form of rumor that Topabaw is critical of the regents, or their generals, or their laws. Make sure everyone tells a different tale—if it's always the same one—”
“They'll know it's planted,” Atisa recited. It was a lesson Aly had taught often over the winter. “Do you want me to pass it to the rest of our pack?”
Aly shook her head. “They'll get their own rumors. We'll ensure the regents and Topabaw have plenty to worry about here at home as well as in the outlying Isles.”
“Will talk really bother them?” Atisa asked quietly, her black eyes serious.
Aly patted her on the cheek. “It's hard to ignore talk that's just talk,” she said, and smiled. “It's funny, though, how gossip can burrow under the skin. You can't m
ake it go away, and you can't answer it. The target goes frantic, trying to find where it comes from.”
“And frantic people make mistakes,” Atisa replied, once again quoting Aly. “I'm glad you're on our side, Duani.”
Aly grinned at her and went to fetch her mistress's soap.
While the family took breakfast together, Aly ate hers in the servants' mess hall. She was nearly done when Nawat came to sit across from her. “Your message is delivered. I watched him pick it up myself. He did not like what he read.”
Aly nodded. “Thank you,” she told him. “He'll suspect it was planted, but he'll have other things to consider soon. Do you think the crows will help us send more things like that?”
“They will if you call them,” said Nawat quietly. “They will even like being messengers. Talk to them in your dreams, and they will do as you ask. Just as I do as you ask. You don't need me to speak with them.”
Aly raised an eyebrow. “Are you vexed about something?” she asked softly.
He was saved from having to answer when Ulasim and Fesgao sat next to him. “Good morning, Nawat,” Ulasim greeted him. To Aly he said, “Boulaj says you had quite a conversation with the captain of the King's Guard yesterday.”
“Captain Sibigat is interesting,” Aly replied. “Sharp.” Wanting to needle Nawat for being so distant and contrary, she added, “Handsome and charming, too.”
Nawat traced the grain of the wood in the table, not appearing to listen. Fesgao whistled silently, while Ulasim raised his brows.
Aly sniffed, and despised herself for acting like a total lackwit whose nose was out of joint. “He was probably just flirting.”
“Don't get attached to him,” Fesgao warned. “He is devoted to his little king.”
“Ulasim!” Fesgao nudged his friend and pointed at the door. Two of their men-at-arms had arrived, half-carrying a young part-blood who wore only a loincloth. He was caked with dust. Chenaol came over with a pitcher and a cup as the guards helped the youth to sit next to Ulasim; Fesgao moved to the end of the table, where he could see the youth's face. Chenaol filled a cup and handed it to the lad. He gulped as if he'd had nothing liquid in a long time, water streaming from the corners of his mouth. Chenaol refilled the cup as the men-at-arms left. As the boy drank the second cup, Ochobu joined them. Finally the messenger set the cup down.
“I was sent by Inayica, captain of the Ombak,” he said, thin chest heaving. “She bids me first tell you that the swans are crows.”
Ulasim nodded. The phrase was a code to designate that the messenger carried important information. “Go on.”
“We're not anchored in the harbor, but in Moriji Cove,” said the boy. “The cap'n sent me 'acos I'm the best runner.”
Aly folded her hands on the table. Moriji Cove was on the far side of the hills that circled the harbor on the southwestern flank. This boy had run ten miles uphill and down, somehow evading the checkpoints and the city guards. She was impressed.
The boy closed his eyes and spoke as if he recited from memory. “On the Jimajen lands, the Birafu estates on Tongkang,” he said. “The raka there have risen. They killed their guards and overseers and have cut the chains from the slaves. Governor Sulion of Tongkang had his mage far-speak to the regents' mages asking for soldiers, but my captain says the first message was caught in the links of the Chain.”
From the way he said it, Aly knew that he didn't realize the chain was a human one fashioned of mages. Many of them had been set to watch each isle's governor as protection against this kind of event. She also knew that when no messages came back from the regents, the governors would know their pleas weren't reaching the capital and would try other ways to call for help, ways the Chain couldn't stop. The regents would not be able to ignore the message when they got it—Tongkang was too close to the capital, and the lands the boy had named were Prince Rubinyan's. He had inherited them when his brother Bronau had died.
“How many of our people are on the Birafu estates?” Chenaol asked.
“Two hundred–odd slaves,” said Ochobu, “five hundred villagers, and thirty-four upper servants. And it is Jimajen land, has been Jimajen land since the Conquest.”
“Is there more?” Ulasim wanted to know.
The youth opened his eyes and shook his head. “That's all the captain said, duan,” he answered. “They burned the farm, though. We could see the smoke at anchor.”
“Come,” Chenaol said. “Let's get you a meal and a bed.” She helped the youth to his feet.
“I need to get back to the Ombak,” the youth protested as she led him toward the kitchen. “They'll sail without me!”
“Tongkang hotheads!” whispered Ochobu when he was gone. “We told them to wait!”
Ulasim stroked his small beard, lost in thought.
“It's hard for people to wait when their blood is up,” Aly pointed out. “If they've heard of the other revolts, it would be even harder. Everyone says the Jimajens are cruel masters even for luarin.”
“It would be good if the rebels simply disappeared,” Ulasim remarked calmly. “If they just vanished, under the regents' very noses, so to speak. We need to get word to any of our people close enough to help. We'll take the rebels to Malubesang and let the army hunt them on Tongkang until their feet bleed.” He stood. “Let's see who we can shift. Mother, we'll need you to speak with the mages.”
Aly also got to her feet. Dove had said she wanted to visit some friends that morning, which meant she would require both her maid and a guard. Nawat remained where he was, hands fisted on the table before him, frowning.
Aly touched his fists. “I miss my cheerful crow man,” she whispered.
Nawat refused to look at her. “I miss having a place where I fit.”
Aly drew breath to argue, then shook her head and walked away. It was her experience that even the best of men had to indulge themselves with fits of moroseness. She would think of something to cheer him up once he'd had a chance to get bored with gloom.
Dove was ready for her outing. Elsren, too, was ready to go. He sat on the hall bench in his best luarin clothes, scowling as he slumped against the wall. Standing with him was his manservant, Gian. Aly smiled at him. Gian was one of Olkey's trainees. He had brought them interesting tidbits gathered when he attended Elsren at King Dunevon's court.
Dove sat next to her half brother. “Is that the face you show His Majesty?” she teased gently.
Elsren shook his head. “No. I must only show him a smiling face. That's what Aunt Nuritin says. But it's hard. Sometimes he's mean and I can't even hit him.”
“Hitting the king would be very bad,” Dove said with a nod. “But you could hit pillows instead.”
“But pillows don't make me angry,” complained Elsren. He looked up at Gian. “If I am good with the king, Gian and the guards let me gallop until we get to the city.”
Dove kissed him on the top of his head. “Well, since I know you are always good, with all that practice, you'll be able to outrace Sarai one day soon.”
Elsren grinned at her. “She'd be furious.”
“My lord,” Gian said politely, “the guards are here.”
Aly glanced through the open front door as Elsren got to his feet. There indeed was a squad of the King's Guard riding into the courtyard. The hostlers waited there with Elsren's pony and Gian's horse.
“Remember, you want to beat Sarai one day,” Dove told Elsren as she straightened his tunic.
He flung his arms around her neck in an enthusiastic hug, then trotted outside, Gian at his back.
As soon as Elsren's party had left the house, the number of uniformed guards Aly had commandeered for Dove's trip, led by Junai in men's clothes, assembled there. When Dove saw them, she scowled, very much as Elsren had. “I don't require nursemaids,” she snapped.
Junai, inspecting the six men-at-arms, looked at her. “You are the half sister to the king's heir,” she said, using more words than she ever did with Aly. “You have your consequence to thi
nk of.”
Dove glared at the men-at-arms, who stared straight ahead, fighting smiles. “If you scare my friends, I will dismiss you,” she told them. “Before, Papa only made me take two guards.”
“In those days, you had plenty of people between your menfolk and the throne,” Aly said. “Now there aren't. And dismissing them is a choice you don't have.”
Dove frowned. “Sarai's the one who likes consequence, not me,” she reminded Aly. “Let's go.”
As the men formed a loose ring around Dove, with Junai in the lead, Aly took a position on the outside. On their way through the gate they passed the royal messenger with the beribboned copy of the Balitangs' invitation to the eclipse party, which made Dove scowl harder. “I hate parties,” she told Aly as they turned down Joshain Street, “but Engan's got this marvelous new spyglass that gives a closer view of the moon, and he'll have it there. Otherwise I'd get vilely ill for the evening.”
Few people but servants were out and about yet. Aly spotted three of her pack ranging ahead of and behind them in different disguises. Hiraos was a student, chubby Olkey a toy seller, Kioka a player. The rest of the pack and their recruits would be spread over the city right now, gathering information.
Dove headed straight for the Dockmarket. The guards had to constantly move aside as she was greeted by a storyteller, an herbalist, two fishmongers, and a potter. As they wandered down the lines of stalls, Aly noticed a thing or two: someone had carved the open shackle symbol into a doorpost. Four soldiers were posted at each point where a main street opened onto Dockmarket Way, in addition to the soldiers' checkpoints at the docks themselves. All of the soldiers looked bored.
That will change, thought Aly as Dove admired a glassmaker's new baby.
“How do you know all these people?” Aly asked as they waited for a wagon full of kegs to move out of their path.
Dove gave her cat smile. “I'm very quiet,” she explained. “Once my nurse thought I was at my lessons, or reading my books, she'd go visit with the staff. I'd make sure she was gone and take one of the tunnels outside our walls. Then I just wandered where I felt like it. Ulasim always managed to find me before I was missed. And I like to know things. It's funny how much people will tell you if they know you're interested. I can blow a glass ball, or I used to be able to. And I can gut and filet fish.”
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