Kerin had a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue; but remembering Jorian's lectures on diplomacy, he forbore. Instead he said:
"I fear the report of the great Doctor Ghulam has not reached my rustic village. Pray, tell me more about him."
While the steward refilled the cups, Rao launched into a colorful tale of the mighty Ghulam's feats of controlling the winds, healing the sick, foretelling the future, and driving his foes to destruction by sending deadly demons against them. During this recital he drank two more cups of
tari.
At last Kerin said:
"If this mission of yours be a matter of such import and stealth, I wonder your master sent you not forth with a bodyguard."
"In his wisdom he decided that an escort would only draw attention; that the safest course were for me to go alone, slipping quietly along like any ordinary traveler." Rao winked. "Betwixt thee and me, methinks he begrudged the cost of hiring guards; he's a fearful pinchpenny."
"Is it a mission to a Kuromonian colleague?"
"Nay, Master Kerin; it is weightier than that. I am to deliver the precious document to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Dzuchen of Kuromon, and furthermore to pick up that which Kuromon is sending in return to the King of Kings, the mighty Lajpat of Mulvan."
"Good gods!" said Kerin. "I should think these rulers would have sent whole embassies, complete with ambassadors, secretaries, attendants, and soldiers."
"Indeed, indeed, some might so think," said Rao, his speech becoming a little slurred. "But the mighty Ghulam told them his scheme was best; he had foreseen its success in the stars. Of course," he added looking owlish, "you know nought of these things. It is a matter of utmost secrecy; my lips are sealed."
Kerin thought that either the wizard Ghulam or the King of Kings must be out of his mind, to entrust such a mission to one rattlebrained youth, whom a couple of drinks opened up as a fishmonger opens an oyster. But then he remembered how indiscreet he himself had been on his first night aboard. He said nothing of these thoughts, and the talk wandered off into other matters, such as the proper garb for the colder parts of the Kuromonian Empire. The steward brought dinner.
The
Dragonet
had been rolling gently; but the motion increased. Halfway through his repast, Rao, looking paler than his usual nut-brown wont, clapped a hand to his mouth, scrambled up, and bolted out the door.
"Use the lee rail!" Captain Huvraka shouted after him.
Before retiring, Kerin looked in on his fellow passenger. He found the young Mulvani lying pale and wan in his bunk. When he asked Rao how he was feeling, the Mulvani groaned and replied:
"I shall die on this accursed ship."
"Hast never been to sea before?"
"Nay. Amongst the stricter sectarians, seagoing is
deemed immoral because the mariner inevitably befouls the waters with his waste. That angers the sea gods. If I survive, I will never, never . . ."
A spell of retching shook him, but Rao had nothing left to bring up. When the spell passed, Rao seized Kerin's hand, saying:
"My mission is of great moment and must be completed; the fate of nations may hinge upon it."
"Yes?" said Kerin.
"Aye, I mean that. So, if I perish of this damnable seasickness, I beseech you to make me a promise."
Kerin sympathized, but he was wary. "What promise?"
"If I die, you shall carry out my mission. It will not take you out of your way, since you, too, are bound for Kuromon."
Kerin made an impatient gesture. "Yes, yes, but what
is
it? What would you that I did?"
Rao thrust back the bedclothes, revealing that next to his skin he wore, hung round his neck by a slender chain, a package of oiled silk. He broke the waxen seal, unwrapped the package, and produced a long strip of paper of a notably thin, silky texture. The strip was covered with lines of tiny writing in the script of Mulvan, wherein all the letters hung down from a row of short horizontal lines. Rao refolded the paper and gathered a taper, a stick of wax, and a brazen seal to replace the original waxen seal. He said:
"Here is that which I am charged to give the Emperor's officials. If I perish, promise you will essay to deliver it!"
"But I have no introductions to the Imperial Court. . . ."
"Oh, you will find a way. Besides, he who turns in this precious document will be lavishly rewarded."
"Well," said Kerin hesitantly, "all right. I promise at least to try. But this will never happen. I know a bit of seagoing, and never have I heard of anyone's dying of seasickness. You may wish yourself dead; but as soon as you're back on land you'll feel as fit as ever."
"I hope so," said Rao lugubriously.
When Kerin returned to his own cabin and prepared for bed, Belinka appeared, gossiping:
"The witch's bir hints that his mistress have some subtle plan anent you, but he will not tell me more."
"What sort of plan? I like not for others unbeknownst to make plans for me."
"He will not say; but I fear she means you no good."
"Couldst wheedle it out of him?" Kerin slid beneath the blanket.
"Belike. He takes more than a passing fancy to me."
"What looks he like? I've not seen him."
"He favors invisibility; but he can take a form like unto mine, albeit male."
"Well, report aught interesting you can get. Goodnight!"
They stopped at Halgir, on the Mulvanian side of the strait called the Fangs of Halgir. Kerin found the slatternly little town hardly worth going ashore for. It consisted of rotting houses and streets of black mud, peopled by underfed-looking Mulvanians clad in lengths of dirty cotton. Eventually Kerin tired of saying "No" in Mulvani to small brown locals, trying to sell him crude, unattractive wares, and fled back to the
Dragonet.
The wind held, so that the transit of the Sea of Sikhon took less than four full days. On the second night out, Kerin stood after sunset with his elbows on the rail, looking at the ship's wake and the brilliant stars overhead; the crescent moon had not yet risen. A light touch made him turn, to see that Janji had come up silently and was leaning on the rail beside him.
"Are you enjoying the voyage?" she asked.
"Aye; though betimes it waxes tedious, with every day like the last."
He felt her smile in the darkness. "You are glad it is monotonous. When a storm comes, you will be glad to go back to monotony of fair weather."
"Do you expect a storm?" asked Kerin.
She shrugged. "One never knows. But, Master Kerin, tell me, why are you becoming so secretive? At dinner you hardly say a word about yourself. The first night you talked freely, but since then you shut up like tortoise pulling head into shell. Young Master Rao was much more forthcoming than you."
"I daresay," said Kerin. "In fact, the night he came aboard I thought him a blabbermouth, telling us things that would disturb his master if he knew. But since then we've hardly seen him."
"The poor lad is one of those who gets seasick while the vessel lies still in its dock. You seem to be adapting well to life on a deck, even though you and Master Rao look much alike. If you were darker of skin or he lighter, the twain of you could pass for brothers. But you are much more secretive."
Kerin almost launched into an account of the training through which his brother Jorian had put him. But he checked himself, saying merely: "I didn't wish to bore you and the captain with my petty personal affairs."
"Oh, we are not bored! For example, I see you wash yourself on deck today. We hear silly stories about Novarians. Some say their male members are an ell in length and writhe like serpents; but you look like normal man."
Kerin gulped, feeling himself flush in the darkness. "Thankee."
"Are you using it in the normal way?"
"As far as I know." Kerin thought that if his embarrassment became much hotter, he would burst into flame like the fabled phoenix.
"Another thing," said Janji. "They say that the sight of a woman's teats inflames Novarians with insensate lust, so they cannot control selves but leap upon any woman like wild beasts. Is true?" She moved closer, gently rubbing against him. Kerin became aware of perfume.
"Well—ah—that's an exaggeration. We are not used to seeing those parts exposed so freely, save in bathhouses. 'Tis a difference in customs."
Kerin felt his blood pound. In the starlight, looking up at him, the fleshy, middle-aging Janji looked almost beautiful. His heart pounding, he cleared his throat. "Would you—I mean—do you . . ."
He felt an exploratory hand. She exclaimed: "By Kradha the Preserver! What they say must be true. We must take care of that. Come, but very quietly! Huvraka is a fierce and jealous man."
She led him towards the door of his cabin. When he reached out to open the door, however, she planted herself before it, saying:
"First you are telling me truth about your secret mission."
''What?
What secret mission are you talking about?"
"If I know, I do not ask. Tell me!"
"I told you about the clock escapement—"
"Oh, you think I believe that? I am not so simple. You are telling me real reason, or no lovemaking tonight!"
Kerin spread his hands. "I know nought whereof you speak! There's no secret mission, unless you count the search for the escapement mechanism."
"You must hush your voice, fool, or you are waking Huvraka, and he comes with sword! If you will not tell, there is no more to say. Good-night!"
She marched off into the darkness. Kerin, whose passion had been cooled by the inquisition, stood looking after her and wondering if he had been made a fool of. If he could have thought up a plausible story, about an objective like those his brother Jorian had gone after before retiring into respectable domesticity. . . .
But Janji might trip him up with searching questions. He shuddered at the thought of the embarrassment that exposure of his little fiction would cause. No, he had better resign himself to his virginal state a while longer.
Belinka spoke in his ear: "That must have been a quick one, Master Kerin. I saw you start for the cabin; then the bir—or hantu, in his language—began chasing me round the ship. He wants my all, as you Prime Planers quaintly put it. And now, but a moment later, off she goes to her own quarters."
"Neither slow nor quick," grumbled Kerin. "She wanted some damned secret, which I have not. When I failed to satisfy, she withdrew her offer.''
"But otherwise you would have accepted, would you not? I was commanded to keep you away from wanton women, and the instant I take my eyes off you, you're off seeking a bout in the bedding with this witch. I warned you she is the focus of evil! She can turn you into a codfish for all I care! I shall have a fine tale to tell Adeliza!"
"Tell her what you like!" said Kerin hotly. "I was never fain to espouse the strumpet, and for her to engraft a familiar spirit on me is an outrage!" He thought he heard a fairylike sniffle. "Now, now, cry not, Belinka! 'Tis not your fault; you but do your duty. But if you tell Adeliza that I flittered a strange woman every day of the journey, that's fine with me."
The sniffle died away. At length she said: "I am sorry, Master Kerin. I am constrained to give my mistress a truthful account upon my return."
"At least, tell her not of this failed seduction! It is too embarrassing."
"I cannot altogether hide it; but I'll strive to soften the tale."
"Good!" said Kerin. "And whilst you're about it, wilt try to pry out of this amorous bir the deadly secret whereafter Janji lusts?"
"I'll try; but in return you must remain faithful to me!"
"I—I'll do my best," said Kerin. It occurred to him that the mercurial Belinka's flare of temper might be a case of simple jealousy. He and Belinka could hardly enjoy an amour in the usual sense; but her emotions might resemble those of a mortal. He wished that Jorian, with his wide experience, were there to advise him.
The next two days passed uneventfully. Kerin and Janji treated each other with formal reserve. Huvraka did not appear to have noticed any change.
On a hot morning, the
Dragonet
put into her home port of Akkander. This was a larger town than Halgir. The streets were still of mud, flanked by many tumbledown shacks; but there were some well-constructed buildings.
The
Dragonet
berthed at a quay of red sandstone, near a small shipyard. Therein lay a half-built ship with bare ribs curving skyward, like the skeleton of a whale. The quay was a little higher than the deck of the
Dragonet,
so that the gangplank had to slope up.
While sailors shinnied down the sloping yards after brailing the sails, others wound the mooring lines around the bollards on the quay. Then the yards were swung to the centerline and lowered by jerks into their crutches. Huvraka bellowed commands, and grunting sailors hauled and pushed bulky bundles up from the hold, since Akkander had no such cranes as Vindium and Janareth boasted.
The discharge of goods for Akkander was quick, for it was but a minor part of the cargo. When Huvraka blew a whistle, sailors swarmed up the gangplank or leaped directly from ship to quay, to disappear at a run into town. The burly Huvraka strode up the gangplank, his tulwar thrust through his sash and white teeth flashing in his sable bush of beard. Mota, the lean, taciturn mate, followed. Soon Kerin found himself alone on the ship save for Rao, who had not yet appeared, and Janji. The witch-navigator said:
"Are you not going ashore, Master Kerin?"
"I thought thus to spend a few hours. What has Akkander to see?"
She ticked off the town's temples and monuments. Kerin asked: "What does one for dinner? Are there taverns? There seemed to be none in Halgir.''
"Yea, there are. But a foreigner who eats in one may catch a flux; so beware of food not cooked. Or you can come back to ship."
"Doesn't the cook get shore leave?"
"Aye; Chinda is already going. But I stay here on watch. Someone must be guarding the ship, and it is my turn."
"If I come back for dinner, 'twill be early enough for you to cook for two—"