Silence is Deadly (23 page)

Somewhere in OO there was an abandoned Synthesis headquarters, closed because of the danger to agents in OO, but Darzek did not know where it was or whether any equipment had been left there. He wondered if the transmitter was still there and whether it was functional.

He sensed the approach of a crisis in OO. If the black-capes were to persuade the duke that the sailors were concealing a wanted fugitive, his temper might prevail over his good judgment; and the duke was not known for his good judgment.

Darzek finally slept, only to be awakened at dawn by Captain Wanulzk, who wanted to discuss his plans for locating Sajjo. Their talk was interrupted by Nijezor, who arrived triumphantly with a flask of colorless liquid in his hand, the product of his night’s work. He dabbed it onto Darzek in various unlikely places, and then both he and the captain retreated a few paces and sniffed thoughtfully.

No, Captain Wanulzk pronounced with emphasis. You have blended one evil scent with another. They do not cancel; they reinforce each other. He turned apologetically to Darzek. No offense, my friend.

Better you than the Duke of OO,
Darzek told him.

It is difficult,
Nijezor admitted. One can always cover a stench with a powerful scent, but when the scent fades, the stench does not. I strive to neutralize the stench, after which friend Lazk will be able to display the most delicate fragrances with effect.

A noble aim,
the captain said.
Its achievement surely will be your masterpiece. If you fail, we can always make him a vendor of overripe namafj.

* * * *

Late that afternoon, Darzek lay in a covered cart that was proceeding slowly along one of the main surlanes of the city of OO. Moving from one side to the other, he peered through openings at the pedestrians they passed.

He was looking for Sajjo. The captain had assured him that his help was not needed. The sailors had many friends searching for her, and Darzek’s presence would be a liability to them and a danger to himself. But Darzek was not convinced that the searchers could tell one child from another merely on the basis of a description. He, the adopted father, knew the child. He also thought he knew where and how to look for her.

Because he was certain she would be looking for him.

The cart’s driver was a weaver, and his mate rode at his side. They had brought a load of fabrics to the ship, and they were on their way to pick up another load. If their route meandered far more than was strictly necessary, that was no one’s concern but their own.

Darzek also wore a weaver’s costume, just in case a black-cape got curious enough about the cart to look inside. He relied on the potent lingering odor of newly dyed cloth to cover his human smell.

They moved slowly, but without incident, on their trip from the harbor to the weaver’s factory. Darzek helped reload the cart with short bolts of cloth, and then he climbed in on top of them for the trip back to the harbor.

They took a different route, and this time they were caught in a monumental traffic jam where their lane intersected one leading to and from the fair. Everyone seemed to be leaving the fairgrounds at once. Darzek continued to watch the passing pedestrians, and suddenly he saw the familiar figure and face he’d been searching for—Sajjo.

Keeping his eyes on her, Darzek caught the attention of the weaver’s mate and pointed her out. Sajjo’s conduct amazed Darzek. She moved along slowly, her head tilted back and continuously moving from side to side, but she seemed to be looking at nothing in particular.

The weaver’s mate stepped to the pavement and intercepted her. They spoke for a moment, and then Sajjo turned and headed back the way she had come, and the weaver’s mate followed her. From the cart behind them, a potter leaped out and followed the two of them, and another weaver appeared from somewhere nearby and set out after the potter—for the captain was taking great pains to make certain that the black-capes were not following Sajjo in the hope she would lead them to Darzek.

The traffic jam continued. The weaver left the cart and strolled as far as the intersection, and when he returned he leaned inside the tent and spoke to Darzek.
We didn’t need to worry about the black-capes following your daughter. They’ve got more important work on their hands. The duke has closed the fair, and they’re searching everyone leaving the fairgrounds and tearing apart all the merchandise displays. They must think the vendors are hiding you.

He finally managed to turn the cart, and they headed for the harbor following a circuitous, roundabout route. Back aboard the ship, Darzek waited in a fever of impatience until finally his own cart arrived, with the potter driving and the weaver’s mate seated beside him. Sajjo’s pert young face peered out anxiously through the tent flaps.

A moment later the cart was aboard the ship, and Sajjo, on being led into Darzek’s cabin, threw herself into his waiting arms.

When she had stopped sobbing, he asked her about her peculiar conduct on the streets of OO.
You weren’t even looking for me,
he said jokingly.
You were just waving your head around. I think you had your eyes shut.

I did, part of the time, she agreed.
I knew you’d he wearing different clothes and maybe have your face fixed different, and I wasn’t sure I’d recognize you. So I was trying to smell you.

Captain Wanulzk and Nijezor, the perfumer, were due at the ship shortly after dark. Their perfumer came alone. He gloomily reported that he’d been stopped three times by black-capes on his way there.

I, the most distinguished perfumer in OO!
his hands exclaimed indignantly
. I cannot even visit the harbor to arrange a shipment without being harassed by knights of my religion!

He applied his latest concoction to Darzek, while Sajjo looked on with intense interest. Then he stepped back, and both of them sniffed carefully. Sajjo grimaced, and the perfumer slumped dejectedly onto a chair. His dejection increased when he learned that Darzek intended to leave for Northpor at the first opportunity.

How can I disguise your odor if I do not have it to practice on?
he protested.

Darzek explained that he had a novice perfumer in his own family who could work on the problem.

Bah! A beginner. Bah! When I, the foremost perfumer in Storoz, have tried twice and failed, you expect a beginner to succeed? Bah!

They discussed the possibilities open to them. Finally Nijezor suggested shipping an assortment of scents for Darzek to try on himself. His own family could perform the smelling test. Darzek approved.

The perfumer tucked away his flask and prepared to leave.

Then the ship’s captain entered, accompanied by a young sailor.
Black-capes now are guarding the harbor,
the captain said.
They’ve stopped all traffic to and from the ships.

I had trouble slipping past them,
the young sailor said.
That’s why I’m so late. They’ve been following me all afternoon, and when I finally escaped them, they’d cordoned the docks.

Darzek said politely,
I congratulate you on your diligence. Do you know what happened to Captain Wanulzk?

I bring you a message from the captain. He has learned for certain that the dukes—all of them—have given pledges of faith to the Protector, and the Protector in turn has pledged to restore the old canons. There will be a new King of Storoz, chosen in the ancient manner. The captain thinks the king will he chosen by lot, and in a manner difficult to tamper with. Otherwise, the dukes would not trust the Protector.

I thank both you and the captain for the interesting news,
Darzek told him.
Now see if you can think of a way for me to get a message to Captain Wanulzk. He is supposed to come here this evening, but with the black-capes guarding the docks, I think it would be best that he doesn’t try.

The young sailor spoke with engaging politeness.
Captain Wanulzk was arrested by the black-capes this afternoon—shortly after he gave me that message.

CHAPTER 15

The ship’s captain decided to sail at once.
Better to leave tonight with half a cargo than wait until tomorrow and not he able to leave at all,
he remarked.

Nijezor, the perfumer, had to choose between facing the black-capes again and sailing to Northpor. He said miserably,
I can’t leave my family.
The young sailor refused to leave OO with Captain Wanulzk under arrest. The captain put the two of them into a small boat and had them rowed across the harbor to a ship whose captain was determined to wait out the trouble.

Darzek felt reluctant to leave himself. Captain Wanulzk had befriended and helped him—which was why he had been arrested.

The ship’s captain said dryly,
There are hundreds in OO who will work for Captain Wanulzk’s release. They know what to do, and how, and they aren’t subject to arrest by the first black-cape who smells them. Surely you can be of much more assistance somewhere else.

Minutes later they were underway, and the captain was performing the delicate job of piloting them out of the harbor in darkness.

The trip took them five days, in an unfavorable wind, and Darzek spent most of it in the bow with Sajjo, catching glimpses of Kamm’s rich marine life. On her one previous ocean voyage she had seen nothing at all because she’d had to remain hidden in the cart. Now she delighted in the sights, and scents, and sensations. Her enthusiasm filled the five days; even so, the slow trip tried Darzek’s patience sorely. He was eager to talk with Riklo, eager to find out if there’d been outside contacts, eager to consult the moon base file.

In Northpor, Darzek remunerated the captain liberally for their passage. At first he refused to accept payment, but Darzek asked him,
What pleasure is there in having money if one can’t use it to reward friends?
It was a viewpoint alien to Kammian philosophy, and Darzek, when he drove their cart and nabrula ashore, left the captain staring after him perplexedly with his hand still uneasily clutching the money.

They headed directly for the Synthesis headquarters that now was home to both of them; and the city of Northpor, bustling, energetic, beautiful, seemed a shade or two less colorful, its mart decidedly provincial, its lanes narrow and poorly planned, its buildings much smaller, after the grandeur of the city of OO.

But the people were far happier, and the Winged Beast in the mart cast a shadow no longer than the height of its pole permitted.

Sjelk welcomed them home excitedly and took charge of the cart and the nabrula. Darzek and Sajjo hurried to the house, where Wesru greeted them with effusion and then went to double the portions of the stew she was preparing. Darzek hastened to Riklo’s room. It was empty.

He returned to the kitchen.
Where’s Riklo?
he asked.

Gone,
Wesru answered indifferently.

Gone where?
Darzek demanded.

Wesru did not know.
We could not keep her here. She said she had recovered and there was work to do.

Did she say where she was going?

No. But she went by ship. Hadkez took her to the harbor.

Darzek retired to his own room, his anger tempered by his concern for Riklo’s safety. She had seemed too ill for anything but rest, so he had given her no instructions. Even so, her departure without consulting him constituted insubordination, and she had disappeared at the moment he needed her most—needed the information she had acquired during her training.

And she did not know about the Kammians’ sensitivity to alien odors. Her own body odor might be more or less offensive than that of Darzek—only a Kammian could tell her, and none would. By going off on her own, she probably had placed herself in certain jeopardy.

After his household retired that night, Darzek went to the moon base. There he found a report prepared by Riklo offering her own observations to supplement the report he had written. With it was a note Riklo had left for him.

“We need to find out what the other dukes are up to,” she had written. “I’m going to make myself a suklonor, a peddler to females. The Synthesis headquarters in Southpor has a collection of luxury goods of the type all the dukes’ wives covet. I’ll travel up the east side of the island and call at all the castles. If the females know what their mates are up to, I’ll find out. I’ll report to you in Northpor and then return to Southpor down the west side of the island.” She added, “At least, it’s something to do.”

Darzek nodded thoughtfully. If it wasn’t for the fact that the first whiff of her, in the first castle she visited, would give her away, she might actually learn something.

But now she was gone beyond recall, and Darzek would have to educate himself. It took him half an hour to find the correct modules and get the response he wanted from the base’s file computer, but eventually he was able to sit back and study the projection of a shallow slice of the galaxy that filled the communications room just above his head.