“What business does an envoy of the Glaeban king have with the Temple of the Way of the Tide?”
“I have a message for the head of your order on behalf of King Mathu. He has long been an admirer of the Way of the Tide.”
That got the monk’s attention. “Go on.”
“I am to present a letter, asking that a teacher be dispatched immediately to Glaeba, so my king may begin his instruction.”
The monk held out his hand. “That is great news indeed. I’ll see the letter gets to him.”
“Did you miss the part where I said I am to present the letter to him, my good man?” she asked, in a tone that would have done the Duchess of Lebec proud.
The monk frowned. “We do not allow your kind in our abbey.”
“Then I shall return to my king and inform him you are not interested in showing Glaeba the path to enlightenment. Good day to you, brother.”
Tiji turned on her heel and headed down the steps, not in the least surprised when the monk called her back before she’d taken two or three of them.
“Wait!”
She turned to look at him. “Was there something else?”
“You’ll have to be segregated, both on the journey and when you reach the abbey.”
The little Crasii made a great show of debating the matter. “I suppose I can live with that. You will see to it, of course, that I am attended in the manner to which I am accustomed?”
The monk frowned. “You want me to provide you with servants?”
“If I am to remain apart from the rest of your caravan, brother, then I will need someone who can fetch my meals and provide a way of communicating between me and your guides, will I not?”
With some reluctance, the monk nodded. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“Then I will be here at dawn tomorrow,” Tiji promised. “And you can sleep easy tonight, brother, knowing you have been instrumental in bringing the Way of the Tide to all Glaebans.”
At dawn the following day, shrouded like a human female, Tiji arrived at the temple to meet up with the caravan. The forecourt was crowded when she arrived, with a score of snorting, spitting camels, rough cameleers who seemed to be cursing the beasts and each other with equal ferocity, and a small clutch of mostly young, nervous-looking men, obviously the acolytes intending to follow the Way of the Tide.
There was no sign of Cayal as yet, nor could Tiji sense him. She wasn’t worried. Cayal wanted to find Brynden and this was his only way. He really had no choice but to join them. Even as she’d stood blended to one of the tall sandstone columns at the front of the temple the other day when Cayal had enquired about Brynden, she could tell he was desperate. She could also tell how much the idea of even pretending to follow Brynden’s Way of the Tide irked him.
One way or another, though, he’ll have to join the caravan, she reasoned. But probably not until the last minute.
Tiji pushed through the crowd and climbed the steps to the temple where the brother she had spoken to the day before was standing, overseeing the chaos.
“Ah! You’re here.”
“Was there some reason you thought I might not be?” Tiji enquired, hoping she sounded imperious. She felt more than a little silly wearing the shroud.
“You bring me a double-edged sword, Crasii,” the monk told her. “A message of great hope delivered by an abomination. I have mixed feelings.” He smiled thinly and pointed to another shrouded figure standing in the shadows of the columns behind him, a small sack and a full waterskin at her feet, which was all the luggage a slave would be permitted to bring on a journey such as this. “I do, however, have the servant you requested. If you ladies would like to wait here, I will have the cameleers fetch you when it’s time to leave.”
Tides, he believed me! was Tiji’s first reaction to discovering she now had her very own servant. She bowed to the monk, glanced around hoping to catch a glimpse of Cayal—to no avail—and then stepped into the shadows to greet her new companion.
The slave was taller than her by more than a head. Tiji looked up and met her eyes. The shrouded woman examined her for a moment and then her eyes widened in shock
“Tiji?” she hissed. “Tides! What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone back to Declan.”
“Your grace?” Tiji glanced over her shoulder. Nobody was paying any attention to them. But Arkady’s presence here was a complication she didn’t want or need. “Your grace, you can’t come with us.”
“I’m not here by choice, Tiji.”
The little Crasii frowned, wishing she could read the duchess’s expression under that irritating shroud. “If this is about Cayal…”
“Cayal? What’s Cayal got to do with anything? Haven’t you heard? There’s a warrant out for my arrest.”
Tiji stared at her, remembering what Dashin Deray had told her about the charges against the Duke of Lebec. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, my lady, lining up to cross the desert to find the Way of the Tide.”
“I’m here because Kinta offered me a way to escape Jaxyn.”
“By sending you to Brynden? There’s a mixed blessing, if ever I saw one.”
“In this case, Tiji, I think the devil I don’t know is the safer option to the one I do. What are you doing here, anyway? Kinta said I would be posing as the servant of a Glaeban diplomat.”
“That’s me. I joined the caravan to follow Cayal.”
Arkady fell silent for a moment. “Cayal is here?”
The Crasii shook her head. “Not yet. But I’m expecting him.”
Arkady’s eyes closed, and then she opened them and looked straight at Tiji. “For the first time since coming to this place, I think I’m going to be glad of this wretched shroud.”
“You and me both, my…Tides, I can’t keep calling you that. And Arkady’s probably not a good idea, either, given you’re on the run, the Glaebans will be hunting you and the Immortal Prince is likely to roll up any time now.”
“Call me Kady.” She smiled. Tiji could tell by her eyes, even though the shroud covered the rest of her face. “That’s what Declan used to call me when we were children.”
“That’s awfully close to your real name.”
“But a name I’m likely to answer to without thinking,” she said, reminding Tiji this woman was nobody’s fool. “Our ruse will become instantly apparent if I don’t answer to what is supposed to be my own name.”
With some reluctance, Tiji had to concede she had a point. She never got to say so, however, because at that moment the monk returned with the head cameleer so he could instruct the two women on the finer points of riding a camel across the harsh Torlenian desert.
Chapter 49
Although she’d been warned by Kinta that the immortal was planning to send her to Brynden, Arkady had not expected to be dragged from her bed while it was still dark, hurriedly dressed in an outfit borrowed from Kinta’s slave, Nitta, and hustled out of the royal seraglium to meet up with a caravan travelling into the desert. She was still rubbing her eyes as Kinta explained there was a female Glaeban travelling to the abbey in need of a servant, which was the perfect cover for a fleeing, not to mention disinherited, duchess.
“You will have to behave as a servant does,” Kinta instructed, as Arkady pulled the shroud over her head.
“I wasn’t born a noblewoman, my lady,” Arkady assured her. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Somewhat awkwardly, Kinta hugged her. “I have enjoyed having you as a friend, Arkady. I hope the future is kinder to you than the past few days have been.”
“I hope so too.”
“Would you do me a favour?”
“Considering the favour you’re doing me, my lady, it would be churlish of me to deny you.”
Kinta held out a letter sealed with the royal seal of Torlenia. “Would you give this to Brynden for me?”
Arkady accepted the letter and nodded, as she slipped it inside her vest. “Do you have a message for him, too?”
“Just tell him I miss him.”
“I will,” Arkady promised, turning for the carriage that was to deliver her to the temple.
“It might be prudent not to mention you’ve met…certain other people.”
Arkady glanced around at the servants and carriage driver waiting for her to leave and nodded in understanding. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good luck, Arkady.”
“Goodbye, my lady.”
Although she was nervous about what the future might hold, things were happening too fast for the full impact of her changed circumstances to make themselves felt. In fact, she’d not really begun to worry until the Glaeban diplomat turned out to be none other than Declan’s pet chameleon, Tiji.
Arkady quite liked the little Crasii. At least she had, right up until she started to get a little bit too familiar with her comments on the relationship she imagined between the Duchess of Lebec and the King’s Spymaster. But there was no time now to question Tiji on how she came to be part of this caravan. To further complicate matters, the news Cayal might be in the vicinity had Arkady’s pulse racing so fast that when the cameleer addressed the two shrouded women in a torrent of quick, unfamiliar words, Arkady only understood about a third of what he said. When he finally drew breath, expecting the women to nod in understanding, Arkady touched Tiji’s shoulder.
“My lady,” she said, just on the off-chance the cameleer spoke Glaeban, “if our lives depend on what he just said, then we’re in trouble, because I barely understood a word of it.”
“He said camels always try to intimidate their riders. We must be strong and forceful and refuse to let them bully us.”
“He used all those words to say that?”
“No, he also said that even the most obnoxious creature can be brought under control by a good sharp twist on their nostrils. Oh, and he said that when you’re fixing the head rope, make sure you don’t stand in front of them.”
“Why?”
“You stand in front. You get puke,” the cameleer informed her in broken Glaeban, making Arkady glad she’d not assumed he didn’t speak her language.
“I think he means they’ll spit on us,” Tiji said.
But the cameleer shook his head. “Camel no spit. Camel puke. You stand in front. You get puke. No water. Puke smell bad.”
Despite the language barrier, Arkady thought she understood what he meant. They were crossing the desert. There would be no spare water for washing, even if one wound up wearing the contents of a camel’s stomach. She nodded and replied in the little Torlenian she knew. “I get it. No water. No washing.”
“You drink. No thirsty, still drink.” The cameleer pointed to Arkady’s waterskin. “Drink all that. Each day. Otherwise, go poof!” He emphasised his words with a dramatic wave of his arms, disturbingly reminiscent of an explosion.
Arkady frowned. His warning made no sense to her at all. “I’ll go poof?”
Clearly irritated by her lack of comprehension, the man rattled something off to Tiji, who then turned to Arkady. “He’s saying the water will evaporate out of the skin if you don’t drink it. He also says that if you wait until you’re thirsty, it’s too late, you’re already dehydrated. Our water ration is one skin per day. They’ll fill them up each night when we make camp.”
The cameleer then launched into another lecture, the only word of which Arkady thought she knew was “stones.” Once he was done, the man strode down the steps of the temple, urging them to follow with an impatient arm wave. Arkady picked up her sack, which contained the few personal items a slave was allowed to posses, such as a comb and another dress borrowed from Nitta, and her waterskin. She turned to Tiji. “What was that last bit about?”
“Stones,” the little Crasii replied. “You’d better take mine, too.”
“What?”
“My luggage roll and waterskin,” she said, pointing at the items in question which lay at her feet. “You’re my servant, remember?”
Arkady cursed for not thinking of it herself. It was a long time since she’d waited on somebody else. It seemed she’d grown more accustomed to being a duchess than she imagined.
“Of course, my lady,” she said, picking up the other sack and waterskin. They began walking down the steps toward the camels. “What was he saying about stones?”
“Once we’re out in the desert we’ll have to use them for…” The Crasii hesitated, as if she was searching for the right words. “…for matters of personal hygiene.”
Arkady was fascinated. “Really? I always thought one would use sand for that sort of thing. I suppose rocks make more sense, when you think about it. Sand would tend to get into some rather awkward places, and I’ll bet it rubs like a hasp file—”
“Stop it!” the little Crasii hissed. “Servants don’t talk so much. In fact, they shouldn’t talk at all.” Tiji looked around to see if they were being observed, before lowering her voice and adding, “Tides, my lady, you’ve got the Glaebans after you for conspiring to murder their king, you’ve got one untrustworthy immortal sending you off to visit another, and any minute now the Immortal Prince—who just happens to be a lover of yours—is liable to show up. Any normal person would be incoherent with fright by now.”
“Cayal is a former lover,” Arkady corrected in a voice just as low, determined to clear that awkward misconception up at the outset. “And I always keep a cool head in a crisis, Tiji. I’m famous for it. They used to call me the Ice Duchess in Lebec, you know…” She stopped and stared at the camel. “Tides, they don’t seriously expect us to ride that thing, do they?”
“Little one in front, big one at the back,” the man holding the lead rope on the only camel left without passengers said to them, urging the two shrouded women forward. Even Arkady knew enough Torlenian to understand the command. She glanced around to find most of the other camels pushing to their feet, each one of them carrying two riders, except for a string of pack animals at the rear who were laden with waterskins and presumably their bedding and tents and tent poles.
Without so much as stopping to think about it, Tiji scrambled into the large wicker saddle, as another man relieved Arkady of their luggage and proceeded to tie it onto the back of their saddle. The camel turned its ungainly head and stared directly at Arkady with dark, malevolent eyes.
She hesitated, certain the creature could smell her fear.
Refuse to be intimidated, she ordered herself. It’s just like a big lumpy horse, really.
The man holding the beast waved to her. “You there! Hurry-hurry! Sun coming.”
“You heard the man, Kady,” Tiji said. “Hurry-hurry.” Arkady couldn’t see her face, but the silver skin around the Crasii’s eyes was crinkled in what she suspected was amusement.
Arkady braced herself, stepped forward and lifted her leg, which immediately got tangled in her shroud. She stumbled, falling against the camel, who bellowed loudly in protest. On her second attempt she managed to wedge herself into the uncomfortable saddle. She had time only to breathe a sigh of relief before she squealed in fright as the creature lurched to its feet. She was thrown backward as it pushed up on its forelegs and then tossed forward with even more force as it found its hind legs, banging her head painfully on the crossbar that separated her seat in the double saddle from Tiji’s.
All around her the men laughed, and one of them shot a rapid burst of Torlenian at Tiji, who responded with a reply just as incomprehensible.
“What did he say?” she asked, looking down at the ground, which seemed much too far away for safety.
“Something along the lines of ‘the big clumsy one is going to give us many amusements on this journey.’”
Arkady didn’t think her inexperience was particularly funny, but she cared little for what the Torlenian cameleers might think of her. She had more immediate concerns. “Have you felt any sign of Cayal, yet?”
The little Crasii accepted the reins and a long riding crop that looked like a leather-bound fly-whisk from the man holding th
e lead rope before she answered, settling back against the saddle with the ease of someone in command of the situation. She seemed to know what she was about, which was of some small comfort to Arkady, but not much.
“I can’t feel him at all.”
“Perhaps he’s not coming.”
“Or he’d rather follow the caravan than join it,” Tiji suggested.
The caravan began to move off, the snaking line of camels ahead of them heading out into the street as the sun began to lighten the sky. Already the heat of the coming day was making its presence felt. Arkady couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like once they reached the open desert.
With a flick of her wrist, Tiji tapped the camel’s neck with the crop and they lurched forward. Arkady clung to the saddle with grim determination, wondering if being arrested and taken back to Glaeba was really such an awful fate.
At least in Glaeba, they had horses.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Tiji asked, without taking her eyes off the camels in front of them.
Arkady leaned forward to speak into her ear. “You’re supposed to call me Kady, remember?” They turned into the street, the camels apparently content, for the moment, to behave in an orderly fashion.
“I am frightened, Tiji,” she admitted after a time, glad nobody else could hear them. “I’m not cold or unfeeling, just really good at pretending I am.”
“You’d make a good spy.”
Arkady let out a short bitter laugh. “Me? I don’t think so. I’ve been spectacularly unsuccessful in that regard, thus far.”
“Declan has faith in you.”
“Could we not think about Declan Hawkes, please?”
The Crasii turned in her saddle to look Arkady in the eye. “Actually, my lady, I think you should think about him. A lot. Particularly if Cayal turns up.”
Tiji, it seemed, hadn’t learned her lesson from the last time they’d had this conversation. Nor was she ever likely to, given their roles had been reversed and Arkady no longer had the power to threaten the Crasii with anything.
Denied any sort of effective response, Arkady leaned back in the saddle and chose to remain silent as the sun burned the night away and the camel lurched beneath her like a small boat on a choppy swell, wishing she could decide what was worse—the idea of seeing Cayal again or the thought of not seeing him again.
The Gods of Amyrantha Page 36
