“Very well, then, I agree, that is our quarry.”
“That was my cousin’s opinion, my lord.”
“When were they seen?”
“Three days ago, if Your Lordship pleases.”
“How, three days ago?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Impossible!”
“My lord?”
“Consider, Mount Bli’aard is five hundred leagues from here if it’s a mile. How could word reach us so quickly?”
“Oh, as to that—”
“Well?”
“I cannot say, my lord?”
“How, you cannot say?”
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Sorry!”
“That is to say, I regret—”
“You know, but will not tell me?”
“I regret to inform Your Lordship—”
“This is insupportable.”
We should say that Tem was, by now, noticeably trembling, and to such a degree that Pel became, rather than angry, curious about who or what could have made such an impression on the Teckla that he refused to answer the Yendi’s question. With unusual directness, then, Pel asked, “But, why can you not say?”
“My lord, I have taken an oath.”
“How, an oath?”
“Yes, Your Lordship, and a most binding oath.”
“But to whom have you taken this oath?”
“Your Lordship must understand that to answer that question would violate the oath quite as much, and in the same way, as answering the question Your Lordship has already done me the honor to ask.”
Pel frowned, and was suddenly struck by an idea. He said, “Tell me, my dear Teckla, if you have not heard of something called the ‘wire,’ which consists of many persons of your House, all of whom have eyes and ears, and all of whom are paid certain moneys to use these eyes and ears, and to relay messages as quickly as possible.”
Tem’s mouth came open, and he said, “Your Lordship knows of the wire?”
In answer, Pel smiled, and, reaching under his cloak, pulled forth a certain signet, which he showed to the astounded Teckla, who at once dropped upon his knees and said, “I should have known, my lord.”
“Not at all. You have done well, and said no more than you should.”
Tem bowed profoundly. Pel, now that he understood that the information had come through the very network that he, himself, had set up, returned to considering the information itself.
“And so,” he mused aloud, “they have gone to Mount Bli’aard? Toward Redface, perhaps, or—”
“No, my lord.”
“How, they have not gone to Redface?”
“They have not gone to Mount Bli’aard.”
“And yet, did you not just tell they were seen there?”
“They were seen there, but they did not travel to the mountain, my lord.”
“But then, where did they go?”
“North, my lord.”
“North? North from Mount Bli’aard?”
Tem bowed his assent.
Pel frowned. “But north of Mount Bli’aard there is nothing except …” His voice trailed off as he considered. After a moment he said, “Could there possibly have been a corpse with them?”
“How, a corpse?”
“Yes, a corpse. A dead body.”
“I am convinced there was not, Lordship.”
“That is very interesting indeed, Tem.”
The Teckla bowed.
Pel was silent for a long time, considering everything he knew, all that he suspected, and much that he guessed, and at last he said, “Have the host prepare my bill, then return and assist me to pack. I will require my horse to be prepared as well. I will be leaving tonight.”
“Yes, my lord. And may I be permitted to hope Your Lordship will return someday?”
“Yes,” said Pel. “You may hope.”
As for what Pel intended to do, as this does not enter our story for some time yet, we must, regretfully, delay the revelation until a more appropriate moment. For now, we will return once more to the point in time when Orlaan was asking herself where Piro and his friends were going; yet it is not Orlaan on whom we look, nor is it our friend the Viscount, but, instead, we will observe a place many long miles to the west and south where, sitting on the ground in another campsite, Ibronka asked Röaana, “Is that not the ocean-sea I am smelling?”
“As to that,” said Röaana, “I believe it may very well be. Or, at any rate, if it is not, well, I am imagining the same thing.”
“Then, if we can smell the sea, we must be nearing the coast.”
“That is my opinion as well.”
“And, moreover—”
“How, there is more?”
“Nearly. Moreover, when we reach the coast—”
“Yes?”
“We say farewell to the caravan of handsome Dragonlords.”
“Ah!”
“You say, ‘ah’?”
“Yes, my dear Ibronka.”
“But what do you mean?”
“I mean, my love, that upon saying farewell to the caravan, well, you must also say farewell to that handsome corporal who has been paying you such attention for the last hundred leagues.”
“Why, Röaana, upon my word, I have no idea what you mean.”
“How, you don’t know why he has been dropping back to see to his rear echelons twenty or thirty times a day?”
“My love, there is a certain emphasis in how you say ‘rear echelons’ that causes me some distress.”
“Is that why you are blushing?”
“Bah. I could make you blush as well, if I wished.”
“Could you? I cannot think how.”
“Well, my dear Röaana, I might mention a certain subaltern with extraordinarily long and flowing hair who fixes saddle cinches so well. Or perhaps he does not fix them so well after all, for if he did, he would not need to check his work at least once each hour.”
“Oh, that means nothing.”
“I beg your pardon, but it must mean something, or else—”
“Yes, or else?”
“Or else you would not be blushing.”
“Well, you perceive that at least we match.”
“Yes, that is true, at any rate.”
“And, as for the subaltern, I will tell you something.”
“Well, I am listening.”
“He kisses well.”
“How, you permitted him to kiss you?”
“And, if I did?”
“Well, and how was it?”
“I assure you, my dear Ibronka, I could come to enjoy this pastime.”
“Well, but when did you find time to kiss him?”
“Do you recall a time two nights ago when there was a disturbance among the horses, so that half the caravan was alerted?”
“Why yes, my dear, I do remember it.”
“After it was over, I happened to be standing near those horses, and it chanced that Saynac—”
“That is the subaltern?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, go on.”
“It happened that Saynac came by after seeing to the horses, and, well, we went for a short walk.”
“I never knew!”
“Well, but have you never had the chance to kiss your corporal?”
“How, you pretend I would let him kiss me?”
“My dear Ibronka, if you wouldn’t, then, well, I tell you plainly you are missing out.”
“Well then, I am not missing out.”
“Ah! Well, but when did you kiss?”
“You were just speaking of the evening when the horses were disturbed?”
“Why yes, in fact, I was.”
“Well, that is to say, it was Dortmond and I who disturbed the horses.”
“You shameless thing!”
“Well, and what of yourself?”
“Oh, I am equally shameless, I promise you. Your corporal’s name, then, is Dortmond?”
“Yes, that is his name, and his kisses are superb.”
“Well then, as I said, you shall miss him.”
“It is true what you say, as, no doubt, you shall miss your subaltern.”
“But, leaving dalliance aside, my friend, we must consider what we are to do when we reach Hartre, which is the end of the caravan, but not of our own journey.”
“Well, to continue together would be safer than for each of us to continue alone.”
“With this I agree. And more pleasant as well, for I tell you plainly that I enjoy your company so much that I consider us friends.”
“Well, and I agree entirely, my dear Röaana. Here is my hand.”
“And here is mine.”
“Then it is settled. When we reach Hartre, we will continue together along the coast, and if there are dangers, well, we each have good steel, and a good friend.”
“That is my opinion exactly.”
At this point Clari approached them and said, “Excuse me, my ladies.”
“Yes, Clari?” said Ibronka.
“I have just learned that we arrive in Hartre to-morrow, my lady, and I thought you should know.”
“Yes, that was well thought. Thank you, Clari.”
“You are welcome, my lady.”
The maid bowed, and prepared to depart, but Röaana said, “One moment, my good Clari.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“I am curious as to how you came by this information.”
“How I came by the information?” asked the maid, appearing slightly uneasy.
“Yes, Clari, if you don’t mind telling me. And, moreover—”
“There is more, my lady?”
“Well, I wonder where you have been this last hour since we made camp.”
“Oh, madam, if you or my mistress required me—”
“Not at all,” said Röaana. “As I said, I am merely curious.”
“Come to that,” said Ibronka, “well, I am too. How is it you have learned that we will arrive to-morrow when neither I nor my friend Röaana have come by this information?”
“Oh, well—”
“Yes?”
“That is to say—”
“Come, come, Clari. What is it?”
“Well, there is this Captain—”
“How!” cried Ibronka.
“A Captain?” said Röaana.
“That is to say—”
“No, no,” said Ibronka. “You have said quite enough.”
And the poor maid was required to stand and listening to the Dzurlord and the Tiassa laughing like children for quite five minutes before she was dismissed and permitted to return to her Captain and resume their interrupted conversation.
Early the next day, the caravan arrived outside of Hartre, which, as we have already had the honor to mention, was a once-thriving port city as well a center of fishing, though its prosperity had fallen off considerably since Adron’s Disaster. It was Kâna’s plan to rebuild this city both as a defensive bastion against Elde Island (he considered Rundeel too close, and Adrilankha too far), and, simultaneously, to establish regular shipping between it and Northport, the latter of which was well located for his home in the Kanefthali Mountains. It was to this end that he had caused a caravan full of trade goods and accompanied by a small part of his army to be sent to Hartre. His intention was to arrange for a ship to be built, refurbished, or commandeered, depending on circumstances, then filled with goods and sent to Candletown, where other goods might be traded for, and to sail from there “around the corner” (as sailors call it) to Northport.
It was, in the opinion of this historian, a good plan, and one that showed that Kâna, or, at any rate, his cousin, had that ability to see into the future in some degree that marks a true leader. Indeed, it would be instructive to follow this expedition, with all its unexpected turns and repercussions; yet as it only occasionally and indirectly intersects with the history we have chosen to relate, we cannot permit ourselves more than a brief summary of its goals, as we allow it to pass us by while we follow those persons who were as incidental to Kâna’s mission as this mission is incidental to our history. What is more significant to our history, then, is the fact that a day after their last conversation, the Tiassa, the Dzurlord, and the maid met at the rapidly dwindling encampment to discuss their plans for the next day.
“Well,” said Ibronka, “we must leave early in the morning, and get a good start.”
“Yes,” said Röaana, “to this I agree.”
“I will be ready, my lady,” added Clari.
“But,” said Röaana, “apropos, have we supplies for traveling?”
“Oh,” said Ibronka, “as to supplies, well, I am on tolerably good terms with one of the quartermasters, and so we can get all we need.”
“Well, that is good then. And as to fodder, there will, I believe, be grass all of the way, and I can procure for us a certain amount of oats, as one of the grooms has been showing me some attention.”