The three of us sat around the fire, enjoying a meal of the excellent food Father always managed to carry on his travels. Since Jareth was an even worse cook than I'd been, Father had been forced to take over that duty, and he was surprisingly good at it.
"What are you doing now, Vivia?" he said. "Out here in these backward parts, dressed like that? And smelling not too sweet, if you want to know. No offense meant, but..."
I wrinkled my nose. "Sorry. These are the only clothes I brought and I've been cleaning a chicken-house. I did take a bath. As for the rest of it, I'm on a secret mission. Best not to say too much about it. What are you doing here, by the way? There can't be much trade along this road."
"No," he agreed, "but we've just been in the South, where I had one or two big commissions, and I picked up some orders for next season. Now we're headed for Granlok's court near the north coast."
I pictured the map in my mind and wondered if he was lying. He'd always been partial to peasant girls and countrywomen, the deeper out in the back country the better, even though it sometimes took him far off the best trade routes. Was it possible he was still at it? Of course it was. "Why on this road, then?" I probed. "Wouldn't it have been shorter to travel along the coastal highway and put up in some real towns overnight?"
"Oh, shorter, yes, but far less healthy."
"What's the matter? Is someone on the lookout for you? Don't tell me you're still on the run from jealous husbands?"
Jareth smirked behind his hand. "Vivia!" my father said, shocked. "What do you know about such things?"
"More or less what I've always known. You may have thought it was all a big mystery to me, why we packed up and sneaked off sometimes at dead of night. But I was never that ignorant, Father."
He sighed. "Well, it's not a jealous husband this time, Daughter. It's the raiding along the coast. Surely you've heard about that."
"Raiding? What raiding?"
"All along the coast from Tubok to the salt barrens. Tubok was burnt to the ground just before midsummer. The chieftain at Kell was cut into nine pieces, and they fed King Hono, as he styled himself, a stew made of his own children, like in the old stories but worse. Don't tell me you haven't heard of any of this, Vivia. Why, they--"
"Who? Who did that, Father? Who's doing it?"
"Maltuk, of course. His pirates, at least. Navy, he calls them. They're worse than savage, worse than they ever were in his own kingdom. They sail into the harbors like they own them. People are leaving the south coast in droves, if they can get out, and the east, too. I can't believe you don't know about this."
"I've been on the road myself." But I did a quick calculation. I should have heard about some of these things. Why hadn't I? Maltuk had never raided our coasts before, and the news must have spread to Horok's court. Did this have anything to do with young Tedor's disappearance, or with Orath's recent presence in our country? "Could Maltuk himself be making these raids?"
He scratched his head. "I don't think so, Daughter. Word is that Maltuk is ill. He's stayed near his own court for the last two years. My guess is that this activity may be part of a scramble over succession."
If Maltuk was ill or in trouble, his witch should be at his side. Unless her not being there was related to that situation? Unless she, too, was scrambling, and taking Horok's son--and Raym--was part of her scramble?
It didn't make sense to me, but something told me that whatever was being played out was important, that all these occurrences were somehow tied together. I needed to get to Maltuk's kingdom, and it came to me now, in light of my recent experiences, that the best way to do that would be to travel in my own form, on shipboard, from a northern port--if any ships were still headed for Maal. My father hated to part with a penny, but if I couldn't persuade him by guile to equip me for the journey and pay for my passage, I wasn't half the witch I thought I was.
"Father," I said. "I'm going to go with you as far as Granlok's court. How many days will it be?"
"Four. We take it easy along the road, now there's only the two of us to carry--but of course, if you come with us there'll be three." He looked rather pleased. "I'll just go into this village in the morning and get you some decent clothing, Daughter. Meanwhile, you can have an old shirt of mine to sleep in, and we'll burn those rags."
CHAPTER SIX
It was like old times, traveling with my father--heavy work, a demanding pace, and hours of boredom as the old man repeated, with only slight variation, endless tales of his own youthful adventures. Some of these were possibly based in fact, but all were well worn with years of telling. I could have recited most of them from memory, right along with him. I gained a new sympathy for Jareth, as I came to see how he might have been less a simpleton if Father had ever bothered to engage him in real conversation or teach him anything of the world they traveled through, summer after summer.
The next night, after the old man had gone to sleep, Jareth beckoned me aside. He took a purse from under his tunic, and showed me a few ornaments he'd made himself. "Don't tell him," he whispered. "He doesn't know I have them. If he found out, he'd make me give them to him to sell, you know."
I cast a small spell over Father, making his sleep deeper, and took the pieces closer to the firelight. The stones were cheap, a couple of them flawed, and the metal was a poor alloy, but the workmanship was very fine, better than Father's best. I told Jareth so.
He beamed with pleasure. "I'm making them a little at a time, out of what he throws away. So when he leaves off traveling, I'll have some to begin with. I know his routes, you see, and I'll be able to do more when I can work for myself."
I handed back his ornaments. "Jareth, why don't you just start working for yourself next winter? You could sell these for enough money to get started, and strike out on your own in the spring, couldn't you? There's custom enough in this country for more than one goldsmith, and Father could hire a boy to help him. It's stupid for you to go on like this, year after year, working like a mule for no pay..." This was a guess, but I'd have bet on it. "...when you're a real craftsman."
"Ah, no, Vivia. He's old, you know. He'd never find a boy to be the help I am. His eyes aren't what they were, you see." He looked down at his big, clumsy-looking hands, and I thought I knew what he was saying.
"Show me some of Father's recent work."
Obediently he opened one of the packs and carefully took out a roll of cloth. This he unwrapped, revealing an assortment of gold and silver rings, bracelets, pendants and brooches set with precious stones.
"This is what we're taking north," he said. "Other stuff too, you know. There'll be a trader there from Maal." He looked up anxiously. "You can't tell anyone that, Vivia. Father would lose business if anyone knew he traded with them."
If Maltuk's pirates were raiding along the coasts and Father were known to be trading with them, he'd be lucky if all he lost was business. I looked at the ornaments. Quite a few--the older ones I guessed--were in the old man's usual fine, workmanlike style. But several others were more artful, with the kind of sweet, romantic charm I'd seen in Jareth's small collection of his own work.
"He's getting more skilled in his old age," I remarked. Again Jareth avoided my eyes. Obviously he was the one who'd made the newer things. The old man's eyesight was failing, but his hold over my brother was still firm. "How's this trader going to cast anchor without being burnt down to the waterline? The raids Father spoke of won't make it exactly healthy for a Maalian merchant to come here this year, I should think, however honest he may be."
Jareth glanced over to where Father lay snoring. "The ship'll be flying a Honoan flag."
I rolled my eyes. "Well, at least when he starts one of those endless stories, you could tell him you've already heard it a thousand times. Milo used to do that, as I recall, and sometimes it worked. You must be bored out of your mind."
Jareth smiled. "Ah, no. He's not really talking, you know. Not to me, I mean. He's remembering. Those were the days when our mother was alive,
and he'd be on his way home to her. He was happier then. He likes to remember those times."
"Brother, you are a saint."
He just laughed.
* * * *
Over our campfire the night before we reached our destination, Father talked to Jareth and me about the place where we were headed and the princeling, Granlok, who ruled over it. "Granlok's in a precarious position up here. There've been no raids in his part of the country yet, no doubt because the harbor's secure and it's easier pickings for Maltuk along the east coast. But there's wealth to be had, here in the North, and if the raiders can get into one of the harbors here there'll be nothing to stop them but the High King's army, days or maybe weeks away. Bound to happen sooner or later."
Again I wondered why I hadn't heard any of this.
Jareth spoke up unexpectedly. "There's a clear road south from here, too. Not like from the east, where Maltuk's men would have to stay along the coast and give the High King time to get a real army together to face them."
We both stared at him.
"Why would Maltuk's men be wanting to go either way?" Father said, finally.
Jareth looked down at his hands. "Oh, I don't know, really. I was just thinking what they'd do when they run out of places to raid from the sea. They might want to settle down."
Father snorted. "Settle down? Maltuk's chiefs have been raiding each other and their nearer neighbors for longer than I've been alive. They've never settled down yet. They're not the settling down kind."
He was right, I knew, up to a point. The Red Prince, as Harken had reminded me when she sent me on this task, was famed for his bravery and his bloodlust, not for the happy condition of his kingdom. Chronically impoverished, ignorant, stricken with plagues and famines, Maltuk's people were neither good farmers nor miners of precious metals, although their land was said to be rich enough if its riches were exploited. Only the Maalian shipbuilders and weapons-makers were famed. Maltuk himself preferred plunder to productiveness, and so the Maalians spent their lives in warfare, amongst each other in clan battles and against their neighbors in pillage and savagery. None of them dared to challenge the Red Prince himself, because his army was better-fed and more brutal than the lesser forces in his domain.
Raym had told me all of this long before, saying that it wasn't the people to blame but the king. "People need a leader, Vivia. For centuries Maltuk and his predecessors have encouraged that kind of behavior. It's no wonder Maalians are the way they are. People don't give up old ways easily. But things will change there eventually."
"Change how?" I'd said. "You think they'll get tired of fighting?"
A wry smile. "Tired of starving. They're fighters--that's what they do. They like it because they're good at it, and it's nearly all they're good at. That could change, but it'll take more time. Meanwhile, what might happen is they'll run out of plunder close to home, and they'll see that raids along our coasts are worth the effort, even with the stormy seas between Maal and us. They'll make peace with each other long enough to attack Monsaran ports. If we let them get started with that, they'll move farther inland. Maltuk will encourage them. Otherwise he'll lose ground with his own subjects. You can only frighten people for so long, and Maltuk's not young."
"What about his sons?"
Raym shook his head. "Maltuk has no sons, and his daughters will ally themselves with strong men. His friends or his enemies--and he has very few friends. Whatever move he makes, he'll have to make it soon, and it'll have to be a good one, or he may not live out his allotted years."
I thought about this now, while pondering what Jareth had just said. It seemed there'd been some accuracy in Raym's prediction.
When Father had gone to sleep a little later, I beckoned Jareth aside. "Have you heard something about an invasion toward the inland? Something Father doesn't know yet?"
He ducked his head and didn't answer.
"I won't tell him, if you have," I added quickly. It seemed possible that my brother might keep anything he'd happened to overhear a secret from the old man, not only for the simple sake of having something of his own, like the ornaments he'd made from discarded materials, but also to save himself the pain of having Father discount the information. Which Father would surely do, even if he planned to pass it on later as his own. I was beginning to think Jareth was not quite the fool I'd taken him for.
"No, I haven't heard anything. I only thought they might make so many raids there'd be nothing left on the coasts. No money and no more children. Boys for their armies and ships, girls--well, girls, you know. The people in the port towns are sending their children inland. And their money, if they have any. Stupid of me."
"No, Jareth," I said, "not stupid at all. A very wise man once told me the Maalians might do that, if they ever started to raid our coasts."
He brightened a little. "Do you think I should tell Father that?"
I had to laugh. "Do you think it would do any good?"
He shook his head, but he was smiling.
We got to the outskirts of the northern port city late the next afternoon. We'd started out at daybreak and kept up a grueling place. When I spotted a likely looking inn I called Father's attention to it. I wanted a bath and a meal and a bed, and I could tell that Jareth, who carried the burden of the load, was footsore.
But the old man gave me a wide, gap-toothed grin. "Not used to the road, are you, Daughter? Maybe you should've turned into a sparrow and kept us company today, bobbing along from branch to branch. I mean to make it to the Sign of the Currant Branch by evening. I have an appointment there, and it's nearer the port by another few minutes' walk."
Perhaps I should've turned into a horse with saddlebags, I felt like telling him, but it occurred to me that he might like the idea.
The walk was closer to an hour than a few minutes, and by the time we got to his inn I was nearly as lathered as a horse. It was a clean, comfortable place, at least. I insisted that he rent me a room separate from his and Jareth's, and he grudgingly agreed. "Now," he said, "I'm free until an hour past sundown. Take your bath if you must, and we'll meet for dinner when you're done. Then you can sleep, little sparrow, while I meet with the buyer of my goods."
Father had always been secretive about his business affairs. I'd come to suspect long ago that this was partly because his older sons would have demanded a bigger share in his profits if they'd known just how successful these affairs were. Although Jareth never made any demands at all, the habit of guardedness had grown on Father. So naturally he wanted to meet this trader from Maal, disguised as a Honoan, alone.
The more I thought about it, as I bathed, the more uneasy Father's actions made me. Prescience has never been my strong suit, but something whispered to me that the old man might be outsmarting himself this time, walking into some kind of trap. I decided to brace him about his plans, and over dinner I did just that, with predictable results.
He chuckled. "Now, Vivia, I know you've been educated. Above your place as a woman, it seems to me, but I'm old-fashioned, I suppose. No doubt you know a good deal about a lot of things. But I think you'll agree that you don't know my trade? You're no goldsmith, no seller of fine ornaments and gems?"
I sighed. "No, Father, I'm none of that. What I am is a woman of guile, which makes me the expert in other things. I've no objection to your conducting your business as you see fit. But I do object to your meeting this trader--this Honoan, shall we say--without the protection of at least one companion. I have a bad feeling about it."
He ignored this. "How do you know what flag the man flies? Jareth told you, I suppose." He cast an aggrieved glance at my brother.
"Not at all," I lied. "I know things, I tell you. I've always been able to read you very well, as you're aware. It's why you took me to Katra in the first place, instead of marrying me off to some village dolt the minute I came of age."
"All right," he agreed, "you know things. Then you ought to know that the man specifically asked me to bring no one to our meeting. I
t's a delicate piece of business we'll be doing. We're meeting in a private room here, but the walls are thin enough. I can call for Jareth if I'm in trouble, which I won't be. I've dealt with this man before."
"If you're in the kind of trouble I fear, you won't have time to call for Jareth, and if you did he wouldn't have time to reach you."
"And you'd have time to be of some help if I let you come with me? Even if he'd deal in front of you, which he won't?" The old man was losing patience.
"I'd go in disguise. You'd tell the trader I'm Jareth's wife, deaf and dumb and slow-witted. You saw the disguise I was in when we met a few days ago, and I can do much better than that. You know he'd be convinced."
"Maybe," he said. "But a disguise is just a disguise, I know that much. What if you're right and he goes for me? He won't. But if he did, what could you do about it?"
Briefly I turned Jareth into the man he'd been at eighteen. In his right hand, instead of the knife he was wielding with some fervor on the mutton, was a broadsword.
Father blinked.
I took away the illusion and Jareth, staring in disbelief, dropped the knife. "You pick it up," I suggested to Father. "The knife, I mean. Go ahead."
The old man's face darkened and his eyes narrowed to slits. He strained for a moment, unable to move either arm. When I released him, he made the sign against evil. "Dear God," he gasped. "What have I turned loose on the world?"
"You had nothing to do with that part of it. Wherever my guile came from, it wasn't from you, Father. But I feel some obligation to you, for taking me to Katra if nothing else. So you'll let me go to your meeting with you, won't you?"
He nodded, swallowing hard. "All right, Vivia, all right. Just don't tie me up like that again, will you? Please?"
I smiled. It was a word I'd never thought to hear from him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
While Jareth polished and arranged the goods in their cases in our suite of rooms, I questioned Father closely on the character of the man he was going to meet, Krinos by name.
A Glimmer of Guile Page 6