Wolf Captured (82 page)

“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 Wain 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 in 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 Wain 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.

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. Wain 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.

Wain 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 Wain 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 Wain 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 Wain 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 Wain.

“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.”

Wain 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.”

Wain 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,” Wain 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.”

Wain 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?”

Wain 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.”

Wain made up his mind instantly. Bluster and fuss hardly made sense when, after all, as Barnet said, Wain wanted the minstrel along and cooperative.

“I’ll sign you on then,” Wain 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.”

Wain 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 test dead before they accepted my command.”

“Possibly,” Barnet said, but his tone changed the word to “Definitely.” “In any case, they are the least likely to be murdered out of hand. Both have been favored by the yarimaimalom, and that complicates matters.”

“For the Liglimom, perhaps,” Waln said, “but not at all for me.”

He smiled hard, thinking of the crossbow with which he’d been practicing until he’d regained skills he’d had long ago.

“Definitely, not at all for me.”

WHEN WALN AND HIS ALLIES went down to the harbor, the streets had stilled even of the late-evening traffic that came when the lowering sun brought a relief from the worst of the heat. The shadowy figures they passed here and there were not the type to trouble a large group of men. Indeed, several moved away rather hurriedly when the group approached.