by Helen Bell
Cedas responded to her reply with a doubtful shrug.
‘It'll have to be some amount: after all, if we turn east there's all the lost business up ahead on the coast, and the lost goodwill in the future. Then we have to send out notice ahead of us again, if we're to get any sort of crowd in the towns ahead of us. Takings are certain to be down anyway. At the very least, we have to secure that much for the livelihood of the Company. Can you supply anything in advance, to cover that at least?’
Jesral allowed herself a benign smile.
‘I think I may. How much are we looking at?’
‘One thousand, two hundred internationals,’ Cedas calmly replied.
‘What?’
It was a ludicrous sum, and four times what they had. She had certainly never seen that much money in her life, even in Cedas's hands.
‘Are you mad? You can't make that much in a year, never mind the ten days or so to Karn! Where am I going to find that kind of money?’
Cedas made a show of being contrite.
‘I’m sorry, Jez, but I've got to insist on a big advance, if only to keep the rest of the Company sweet. Let's say, a quarter of the sum I named.’
‘But that's still... three hundred.’ The penny dropped, and the expression of innocence on Cedas's face when she glowered at him was unconvincing.
‘You had that boy go through our packs. You knew before I started how much I had to bargain with.’ The corners of his mouth turned up a little.
‘And you’ve just told me you’ll have access to more,’ he pointed out, ‘or perhaps I’ve read you wrong. Perhaps you aren't going to Karn to try to rescue the Crown.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘How did you know?’ she asked, once she had gathered her wits.
‘The rumours; swords and men’s clothes in your packs when your companions are dead; above all, your secrecy. That's not like you. So, you believe the rumours?’ Jesral set her jaw again, obstinate once more.
‘I know he's there. Well, now you know why we need to go east, are you going to persist in blocking us with your impractical demands? Are Renia and I going to do on our own what you're too gutless to attempt?’
Cedas sucked in his breath as if affronted, mocking her.
‘That was below the belt, Jez, even for you. And a bit of a cheek, when what you're asking me to embroil the Company in is not so much risky as damn’ near suicidal. So what goes on? Who the hell is this friend of yours?’
‘Renia? She’s no one, Cedas. She’s just a girl from Mhrydain, same as me.’
‘Same as you?’ he snorted. ‘When did you last have three hundred Internationals and connections with the aristocracy?’
‘I don’t know where the money came from,’ she said sullenly, ‘but the connections are pure chance.’ She was thrown by how much he had worked out already and couldn’t decide how much more it would be safe to tell him.
‘You mean it, don’t you? Then she’s no one important?’ Anger and disappointment crossed his face – seeing his one thousand two hundred Internationals evaporate into thin air, Jesral guessed. Then something else occurred to him, and he turned a scrutinizing gaze on her. ‘But she carries something important. That bag around her neck…’
‘…is non-negotiable,’ she told him bluntly. The smile and the raised eyebrow said he doubted that. ‘Cedas, it is not. Someone will die before she gives that up. Leave it alone.’
‘Fine. But you don’t just need a ride there, do you? You need help rescuing him too. I’m not touching this job unless I know what we’re letting ourselves in for. Why are two girls from Mhrydain trying to rescue Ilmaen’s Crown all on their own?’
Jesral sighed. Kerin was gone, so what did it matter if she told him?
‘The men we travelled with… one was her brother, that’s true enough. The other was the LandMaster of Lestar.’
‘The Crown’s brother? But he drowned.’
‘No.’ With a pang, Jesral corrected herself: ‘Not when everyone said he did. He washed up on their doorstep, they nursed him back to health; and being at least part Ilmaenese themselves, they decided to come back with him to help. Then it all went wrong.’
‘So, what she carries is something of the LandMaster’s, to identify herself to the Crown?’
‘And to others after. Cedas, if God willing we do it, if we get Jastur out, then we have to hide him, feed him, get him into safe hands. That three hundred is all we have. Look, we aren't part of a bigger group; we can't get any more money until we have him safe. There's me, and Renia, and that's it. If you take it all, he'll be helpless.’
Cedas leant forward, and at last to her relief he had a genuinely serious expression on his face. He looked at her, frowning, and softly said, ‘He'll be out of Karn. He's Crown; he must have some wit. Let him use it.'
‘Cedas…’
‘Jez, I can't conceive how you got caught up in all this, but if you want to drag us into it as well, it's going to cost you. And that's to get you there, and to help you get him out. No more than that for the three hundred – and remember, it’s just an advance. If we succeed, I expect more from our good Crown. A lot more. That's it, final offer. Now do you take it?’ He held his hand out, ready to shake on it.
Jesral stared at him, dumbfounded and depressed. So much for being in control of the situation. Renia could have done as well, in her broken Ilmaenese. But Jesral knew her adversary in this battle of wits too well. He had scored enough points against her that he would not back down in any way now. She took his hand, but with as little contact as she could to convey her loathing for his tactics. The battle over, he relaxed quite happily and hailed Nina for more food. Jesral folded her arms, an automatic gesture of sullenness.
‘Well, I see little point in prolonging my stay here,’ she snapped, and got up.
‘Tell Renia she doesn’t need to bring the money over when she comes for her class,’ he remarked. ‘I'll send someone to pick it up later.’
Jesral turned in the doorway.
‘I don't suppose you need reminding of it, Cedas, but you're a real bastard.’
He grinned in his usual infuriating way.
‘Do you know, Jez, I’d lay odds my father would say the same thing.’
She slammed the door so hard that half the camp turned to look as she left.
oOo
She was in a foul mood still when she explained it all to Renia, back at Atune's wagon. Renia offered no criticism of her efforts, partly because she did not think she could have done any better and partly because she did not want to feel Jesral's temper. Atune, on the other hand, blithely labelled her every form of idiot under the sun, and a fearful row ensued between them. Before long Jesral had swung the argument round to direct the blame for the whole episode on to Atune, as it was she who had chosen Cedas as her successor in control of the Company. This sent the old woman almost apoplectic with rage – Renia thought she would have another stroke as she stormed in her bunk. But the old woman managed to frame her answer at last.
‘You witless child, you ingrate! Take your addled brain back and think! Who did I confide in, who did I take through every step in the Company's yearly circuit? Who was I in fact grooming to take over from me, when she goes running home to Mama over an unhappy love affair? Oh, well done! So glad to see part of your brain still works when it's rattled hard enough.’
Jesral sat down hard in sudden surprise, mouth open like a fish.
‘I had no idea. I really didn't see that, till now. Why didn't you tell me then?’ she wailed.
‘Because, fool, I didn't want Cedas to know. But as it happened, your pillow talk must have given it away. Yes, I should have told you – and told you to keep your mouth shut while I was at it. He's a crafty one. I often wondered if the business with Nina wasn't deliberate, you know. Cedas has never been one to play second fiddle, and you were the only one who could have matched him. Still, no use crying about it. He hasn't done so badly. He's as hard as nails, and that's probably been a blessing to us, this last y
ear.’
That was cruel of Atune, Renia thought, unnecessarily so; at the comment about Cedas's affair with Nina, Jesral had momentarily looked as though she had been kicked in the stomach. However, when Atune had finished Jesral railed no more. She just sat still for a few moments. She had a cotton shawl under her hands, one that she and Renia shared. She picked it up and fingered it thoughtfully, realized what she was doing and looked at it with strange concentration. Then she turned to Renia.
‘Can we do without this?’ She indicated the scarf. Confused, Renia nodded. Jesral turned it in her hands until she found a weakness in the grain of the fabric and ripped it feverishly in half, then in half again, and again, until it was a mass of shredded pieces on her lap and the floor of the wagon.
When she had caught her breath and calmed again, she announced to the other two: ‘When we have finished this, I will take Cedas by the hand. Yes, I will. And I'll rip his arm off at the shoulder and beat him to death with the ragged end. But until then,’ she told Renia in a voice heavy with warning, ‘I want him to think that we think the sun shines when he passes by. I don't want him to have any idea what's going to hit him.’
‘I think he’ll know once you’ve ripped – OK, understood,’ Renia backtracked, which probably saved her life.
oOo
And so Renia had gone on with the lessons and practised the codes and the voice projection, until she was dreaming of shouting codes and getting some inkling of how likely it was that Jesral could mean her threat. The trouble with Cedas was you had to admire him while he incensed you.
She was not concentrating. When she registered Cedas's voice, it was because of its change in tone; she realized he had had to repeat himself. She reacted to the keyword automatically.
‘You hold a cloak pin.’
‘What more can you tell me about this particular item?’ he asked. Particular – that meant it was blue, or had a blue stone. But item meant a man's property. That was wrong. Was he trying to trick her, or had she confused the signals?
‘It's a woman's brooch, with a blue stone. It’s very special to its owner.’
There was a slight pause. Her heart sank when she picked up the background tone in Cedas's voice.
‘I was given this item by a man. Is the strain of communing with the Hidden Realms becoming too great, O Princess?’
A voice from the audience interrupted him.
‘No, she is right. The pin was my wife's. And it is special. It is old, and made from a very hard metal, perhaps from before the Catastrophe destroyed the old world. My wife and son died of the fever and I had to burn everything they had touched in my house, all their clothes and possessions. I thought I would have nothing of them but my memories, yet when I raked through the ashes of the fire that brooch had survived.’
The man's voice was awed and sad. Renia suppressed the urge to tell him she was sorry: an entranced princess was unlikely to do that. Cedas took control again.
‘And indeed, the stone set in this pin is cracked, where it has undergone ordeal by fire. Your property, sir,’ he said as he returned it, ‘and a thing to be treasured. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I must call the Princess back from the Hidden Realms. For the temptations to stay are great, and none dare remain in spirit there too long, lest they fail to return.’
That was a carefully veiled threat if ever she heard one.
Cedas went through the awakening routine, and the recovered Princess was raised on her litter and borne away out of the circle of the audience. The next act slipped past her and she heard her parting applause blending into their welcome from the crowd.
Cedas reappeared next to the swaying litter and slapped her blindfold, which he was still carrying, into her lap. He was seething.
‘Don't you ever do that again!’
‘Do what?’
‘Improvise. You could have got us into all sorts of difficulties there, with that cock and bull business. “It's a woman's brooch”… I told you it was a man's!’ His impersonation of her was not flattering.
‘But I was right,’ she retorted, stung.
‘No, girl. You were lucky. Now get this straight. I tell you what to do, and you do it. Word for word, gesture for gesture. Or you and Jesral are sitting on your packs by the roadside, looking for another way to get to Karn.’
He made sure Jesral, who was just walking up, heard that before he strode off. Once he had gone the reluctant litter bearers put the litter down, and none too gently. Jesral helped Renia up as the others ambled off without so much as offering her a hand.
‘Hmm. What did you do wrong?’
Renia shrugged hopelessly. ‘I got something right.’
Jesral shook her head knowingly. ‘Bad move, that. You know, we could come to some arrangement over his fate.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I could sit on him and you could rip his arm off – as long as I get to beat him to death with it.’
Renia shook her head. ‘I can't do that.’
‘Why not? You know he’s asking for it.’
‘Because he deserves a lot worse,’ said Renia darkly. ‘You’ll have to think of something far more unpleasant.’
‘Give me time,’ Jesral assured Renia, ‘I'll come up with something.’
Chapter 17 – Something Lost, Something Gained
Kerin watched Vel lay out the last of the display wares on Naylan’s stall and look them over. Mindful of Naylan's warnings about light-fingered passers-by, he then swapped a cheap item at the back for a more valuable one at the front. He caught Kerin watching him, and stared back to see if he was about to be criticized; he was still a little over-sensitive at the moment. Their argument was over; each understood the other’s point of view, but they were not going to resolve the difference of opinion. Now that they had agreed a plan of action, honour bound them to it. Vel had the chance to search while Kerin chafed at the delay, but that would soon change. That was why Vel was so tense.
Kerin gave a jerk of his head towards the Harbour House. Vel followed the line of Kerin's nod, gazed at the whitewashed stone building at the bottom end of the market place with a degree of nervousness. Their third port; his last chance.
‘Are you going, or shall I?’ Kerin asked.
‘Me. I need the practice in Ilmaenese,’ Vel reasoned. ‘Ah, well, here goes.’
He strode off across the market place with forced jauntiness. Kerin watched him go with pity and regret, knowing Vel was making an effort for appearance's sake. They had agreed; three ports and no more before they turned south and east for Karn. Kerin had reassessed his judgment of Vel after their fight and could not stop cursing himself for not seeing how Vel would react to that situation. Now he was confident that he knew his man. If they got no news here Vel would not press for them to carry on his search. The knowledge did not make him feel much better. There had been no news at the last two ports; no ships had limped in from the storm, no sightings of the Dawn Wind were reported. Vel had brushed off each new disappointment; at the most recent port he had spoken at length to some seamen, and had afterwards expressed optimism that he had misinterpreted the tides on the Ilmaen side of the water, not allowing for the tidal stream running the other way at certain times. That would mean the Dawn Wind might have made port further south-west, behind them. He had left it there; no hints or suggestions that they should turn back, however he might feel. Kerin was all too aware of what the lack of news meant to Vel. The fool who said 'no news is good news' needed to live with the suspense they had been under.
Even so, Kerin knew he still hadn’t made Vel grasp all of the repercussions that would ensue from Jastur's loss. Renia seemed to understand even before he had tried to explain, especially his more personal reasons; those he doubted he would ever be able to voice to Vel. Probably not to anyone else, either. No, if he could only get the practical, economic reasons across to Vel that would be enough.
The chance would come; there would be some way to talk of it, to bring it into a conversation
in passing. He could comment to Naylan on the state of decline all around them here; he had seen the same in all the ports and coast villages they had passed through. It was very apparent, when you knew Ilmaen. This port was the biggest town they had been to, but like the poorest hamlet it bore the marks of hardship and demoralization. He had known the northern ports when he was younger, and they had always been bustling and noisy. The quayside market was like a graveyard today; and this was a catch day, a trading day. The townspeople seemed wary and suspicious, or else lethargic – both out of character. It had not been going on for long though; it had not yet reached the point where the buildings showed signs of neglect. A matter of months; about the time Maregh had been in power.
The market was so quiet and his thoughts so engrossing that nearly half an hour passed in this way. Then Naylan called him, breaking his reverie; he was attending to a man who was not happy about the balance of his sword. As they had travelled Kerin and Vel had borrowed from Naylan's stock of blades to practise with, and it had been impossible for Kerin to do that and hide his sword skills. While Naylan knew Kerin wanted to keep himself to himself, he was not about to waste that kind of knowledge if business could be made from it; Kerin could not escape that, in fairness to their benefactor. Once or twice should do no harm. He joined Naylan and his customer.
It was a fine sword, old and doubtless a family heirloom. Its owner watched anxiously as Kerin tested its weight as unshowily as he could. The sword was slightly unbalanced, although excellently kept.
‘Either you've been fortunate not to draw this sword in anger or self-defence for a long time, sir, or it's been superbly looked after,’ Kerin told the man.
‘A bit of both, as it happens,’ the man replied. ‘It was last used by my father, who was a soldier; he taught me how to look after it. Now I've a mind to go soldiering myself. There's no trade you can make a living at round here any more. I just wanted to be sure I was as well equipped as I can be.’
‘Well, it's in no need of sharpening, but I'll whet this edge here a little, just to balance it up. Look, this is how you can tell...’ And he condensed a year's training in sword judgment into thirty seconds before grinding down and polishing the edge in question.
