Mirian blinked in surprise. “How’s he going to outrun that thing?”
“He’s pretty fast,” Rendak offered, although he sounded doubtful. Swift Jekka might be, but how could he outpace a monster that could beat a running man in a couple of strides?
“Where’s their spellcaster?” Rendak asked.
“At the bottom of a well,” Mirian said. “Dead or dying. Have you seen the rest of the Icehand’s troops?”
“They bolted. Those that we didn’t kill, I mean. Or that the monster didn’t stomp.”
Mirian eyed Jeneta. “She still looks woozy. Why don’t you see if the Icehand’s officer had any more healing potions on him.”
“Will do.” Rendak rose slowly so that Gombe could shift to cradle his cousin’s head.
Mirian bent down to retrieve the priestess’s sword. “You don’t mind if I borrow this, do you?”
Jeneta’s answer was weak, distracted. “Not at all.”
A few minutes later, Ivrian joined them, moving a little stiffly. He’d taken a sword cut in one arm, and Mirian helped bandage him. She and Gombe and Rendak then helped the other two back to the tower, before she and Gombe returned to scout the area.
There was no sign of living soldiers, and no Jekka until nearly dawn, when he trouped back carrying not just the laumahk, but a familiar shoulder pack, a larger bag, and his gray staff.
Mirian was so pleased to see him alive she hugged him. She felt the lizard man’s body go rigid in her embrace.
He cocked his head at her and slung down the gear. “This is a human greeting?”
“Between those who are fond of one another.”
“Ah.” Stiffly he imitated the gesture, then stepped away. “It’s good to see you.” He bobbed his head at Rendak. “And you as well, Salvager Rendak.”
“Just Rendak,” the man said, amiably. “Or Filian, if you want. Though even my friends call me by my last name.”
“Rendak,” Jekka repeated.
The first mate pointed to the pile of belongings. “Where did you find all that?”
“I thought this would please you. I led the al’k’ring down a steep hill, and it chased horses the soldiers left. I found this on one of the ones it stepped on.”
Mirian laughed in disbelief. “That’s the third bag, isn’t it? And your book cones?”
“It is.”
She could scarce believe it, and couldn’t quite imagine why the treasures had been brought on the journey. While she was puzzling over an explanation, Jekka questioned her further.
“Everyone else is well?”
“Everyone else is alive,” Mirian said. “And healing.”
Jekka tapped the ground with his staff. “Then we did very well.”
“Thanks for your help with the thunder lizard.” She smiled. “Jekka, have you ever thought about being a salvager?”
He cocked his head to one side, as though he hadn’t understood the question. “I am a warrior.”
“Salvagers have to be warriors as well,” Mirian pointed out.
“Does this mean you’re staying?” Rendak asked, his voice tinged with a certain shy tenderness.
“Ivrian says it’s the thing I do best. And it seems to me our little team does a pretty good job of keeping each other alive. Besides, how can I captain the Daughter if I’m wandering the Mwangi Expanse?”
Rendak grinned crookedly.
“So how about it, Jekka?” Mirian asked. “You want to join the family business?”
“I will go where my sister goes,” he said simply. “And with my friends.”
41
The Sweetest Wine
Ivrian
Riches and fame were ours at last, but triumph was a bitter salve. All of us had lost much and suffered greatly. Yet the story was not yet finished, and a final surprise still awaited us …
—From The Daughter of the Mist
Ivrian wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the luxury of clean sheets and a soft mattress. But as wonderful as it was to be safe at home, he was surrounded by reminders of his mother. Grief he’d thought expended rose afresh with him each morning.
Playing host to solemn Jeneta and seeing to the writing of what proved a very difficult letter kept him fairly busy for the first two days. He finished it in time to have it delivered to the Ministry of Defense the afternoon after their return. By that evening, he’d received a formal summons to the court the following morning. The letter bore the baron’s own signature, and requested his presence alongside that of Mirian and Jekka—and naturally, the treasure.
Ivrian was tempted to take Rendak and Gombe and Jeneta as well, but all three demurred. The priestess had necessary duties at the local temple to Iomedae, and neither Rendak nor Gombe felt comfortable mixing with “blue bloods.” Ivrian couldn’t help smiling a little when Rendak said that, for it took the salvager a moment or two to remember Ivrian himself was a lord.
It pleased him very much that these two men viewed him as one of their own.
When they disembarked from the carriage in front of the capitol building, Ivrian thought he and Mirian and Jekka made a rather fine spectacle. Ivrian wore the most conservative of his dark suits, with only two spots of color, a scarlet kerchief and a matching belt sash he thought gave him a rakish air.
Mirian looked lovely and refined in her red dress, cut in colonial style. Eyebrows rose at sight of her, then lifted even higher as Jekka stepped out.
The lizard man wore a light brown robe, one Ivrian had overpaid a nervous tailor to alter the previous afternoon. It was belted at the waist with the striking turquoise stones that usually supported Jekka’s loincloth.
Jekka’s matching necklace adorned his long throat, and in one hand he carried the carved staff, which lent him the air of a visiting sage or scholar.
Each of them carried one of the expedition haversacks.
White-garbed guards advanced to meet them, nervously fingering the hafts of their halberds.
“We’re expected,” Ivrian said. “I’m Lord Galanor.”
“Of course, Lord,” said the eldest of the three, a scarred man in his mid-thirties. “The undersecretary said to expect you at nine bells.”
“And here we are,” Ivrian said, even as the nearby temple of Desna tolled the hour. They started up the steps. The guards trailed behind.
Beyond the dark teak doors lay a grand hallway hung with frowning portraits of pale men and women in black. Dark doors stood closed in long lines to right and left, and harried-looking men and women bustled in and out of them and down side corridors, carrying sheaves of paper.
One of them, a handsome matron of middle years garbed in a brown dress and lacy white blouse, drew to a stop and gave Ivrian a crisp nod. “Lord Galanor, I presume?”
“Yes. You must be Lady Felham?”
“Indeed.” The Undersecretary of Defense took in Ivrian and his companions with a practiced gaze, then cleared her throat. “Please come with me.”
She turned on a heel and started for the grand staircase leading to a row of windows looking east, almost blinding in the sunlight.
The undersecretary stopped a few paces short, glanced back at them. “Perhaps we should speak privately downstairs.” She stepped to one of the dark teak doors, rapped it peremptorily, and poked her head inside. “This will do.” She thrust it open and gestured for them to enter.
Ivrian did so, a wan smile on his face. He pretended not to notice that the three guards still trailed their little group.
They’d been led to a dark-paneled conference room with high, north-facing windows. Two elaborate chandeliers hung over an oaken table polished so thoroughly it gleamed.
“My apologies,” the undersecretary said, not sounding the least bit apologetic, “but I wish to examine the contents of your satchels before I conduct you forward. I hope you understand.”
Ivrian frowned. “Their contents are solely for the view of the baron.”
Lady Felham’s expression was stony. “I’m afraid the baron’
s safety is my concern, and that I’ll be viewing their contents first.”
This wasn’t at all the sort of treatment they had earned, nor deserved. Ivrian was opening his mouth to object when Mirian touched his sleeve.
“It’s all right, Ivrian. Let’s show her what we have.” Mirian undid the straps of her pack and removed the sculpture of the sea drake. She set it carefully on one end of the table, and even Ivrian had to admit to himself it was a thing of beauty.
One by one, Mirian removed the three ruby lizardfolk heads that had survived their encounter with the boggards, then deposited jewel after jewel in ordered rows as the little idols began their choking laughter.
Ivrian smirked at the undersecretary’s growing interest. He’d described the treasures only in the most general of terms.
Two of the guards lingered in the room behind the undersecretary, and they looked even more impressed than she did.
“Jekka,” Ivrian suggested, “let’s turn out the rest, don’t you think?” And he unceremoniously shook out his pack so gems clattered onto the table in a waterfall of riches: rubies, emeralds, and diamonds of all shapes and sizes. Felham and the guards let out a collective gasp of amazement. The younger of them even swore, and the undersecretary and officer were so stunned they didn’t seem to notice.
Jekka let out a coughing laugh and dumped out the contents of his own haversack.
As the wealth streamed down, Ivrian grinned. “This is next year’s payment to the Free Captains, and probably the year after. Do you think your superior will be interested in speaking with me now?”
It took the woman a good five-count to close her mouth. “Corporal,” she said without turning, “if you will relay my compliments to the baron, suggest that he attend me at once. As a matter of fact, feel free to describe the specifics of this particular incident.”
“Right away, m’lady.” The younger soldier executed a smart salute, pushed past the gawping soldier leaning in the doorway, and could be heard running down the hall.
“Do you mind if we sit?” Mirian asked.
“No, of course not,” the undersecretary said.
Ivrian realized he was taking perhaps a little too much delight in rendering the woman speechless.
Lady Felham cleared her throat. “Your pardon, Lord Galanor, but is that all real?”
“It’s all real,” Ivrian answered confidently. “Every last bit of it.”
“Well. I must say, this is rather impressive.”
“Quite,” Ivrian said, mimicking her tone.
The corporal returned and stepped to one side, coming crisply to parade rest. The commanding officer, looking out the doorway, stiffened and brought his hand up in salute.
Ivrian had seen Baron Utilinus, Grand Custodian of Sargava, at a distance, but he’d never actually observed him up close. The man was tall, his dark hair flecked with gray, a blocky, clean-shaven man in his early middle years, garbed in a blue short-waisted coat and breeches of the finest cloth.
Mirian and Ivrian stood quickly, followed almost immediately by Jekka. The lizard man might not understand every human social cue, Ivrian thought, but he was smart enough to copy those he didn’t know.
The baron advanced, his blue eyes twinkling, uncertain whether to look at the table or his guests.
“This is Lord Galanor,” the undersecretary said hastily. “And guests.”
Ivrian bowed formally. Mirian curtsied. Jekka, unfortunately, copied the latter rather than former action, but no one commented upon it.
The baron met Ivrian’s eyes. “So you’re Alderra’s boy.” His voice was husky but pleasant.
“I am, Baron. It’s an honor to meet you.”
The baron advanced to clasp his arm, expression somber. “I was sorry to learn of your mother’s death, Ivrian. She was a dear friend.”
“Thank you, Baron.” He was surprised the words affected him so deeply.
The baron nodded once, then extended his hand toward the lizard man, an action that elicited a gasp from the soldiers.
Jekka gripped the baron’s arm in return.
“I have never met one of the lizardfolk in person,” the baron told Jekka. “But Lord Galanor reported that you served with great distinction. I thank you.”
Jekka seemed at a loss. “My friends required help.”
“And I am sorry, too, for your own losses,” the baron went on.
“I thank you,” Jekka said, then bowed his head, slowly. He was learning.
The baron turned to Mirian.
“And you’re the daughter of Leovan Raas. I understand that without you, no one would have returned at all.”
“That might be a bit of an exaggeration, Baron.”
“No,” Jekka said, at the same time that Ivrian said, “It’s not.”
The baron laughed. “I think your friends say differently. I wish I didn’t have to offer my condolences to you as well. You three risked much, and lost much.” He looked over to the table. “But you have done the state a great service. Lady Felham and her staff will conduct a thorough accounting of the moneys and award you the agreed-upon percentage, minus that amount you asked for the church of Iomedae. I wonder, though, if you three might do me the honor of joining me for a late breakfast? I’d like to hear the details from your own lips.”
Ivrian searched the faces of his friends, saw Jekka bob his head and Mirian nod.
“We would be honored.”
“Excellent.”
The baron left word that the room was to remain under thorough guard, and that the undersecretary would drop all matters and see to the cataloging and tabulation of the treasure immediately, assisted by only her most trustworthy aids.
And then the four of them headed up the stairs to a very fine suite overlooking a private garden, where they were treated to such an elaborate breakfast that Ivrian rather wished he’d eaten nothing beforehand.
They were catered to by servants garbed more finely than Ivrian, men and women so practiced in dignity that he couldn’t detect even a trace of consternation when they asked Jekka what wine or food he might desire, and the lizard man asked if they might bring one of each. They obliged him.
While they ate, the baron asked about their journey. Ivrian tried not to dominate the conversation, but his friends frequently relied upon his narration. Occasionally, the baron interjected a question or remarked upon their skill or luck, but mostly he listened, nodding and sipping his wine, or nibbling at the steady stream of delicacies.
“And that’s nearly it, Baron,” Ivrian finished.
“And the rest of your team? Are they recovering?”
“They’re well,” Mirian answered. “Happy to be home with their families.”
“And the young priestess? She’s fully healed? We owe her and her entire family our thanks.”
“She’s fully mended,” Ivrian answered. He cleared his throat delicately. “Will you be saying anything to the Icehand?”
The baron smiled in distaste. “She’ll disavow any involvement, I’m sure, but I imagine I can smooth things out for your priestess friend if she does wish to return to her home.”
“I’m not sure she does, Baron,” Mirian said.
“If she does,” he said, “you have but to contact me, and I’ll arrange things. Now, as for you three…” He set hands to the table. The servants cleared away the plates and departed, leaving them alone in the well-appointed dining room. Ivrian grew conscious of the sound of a ticking clock, and spied it upon a desk to the table’s right.
“I can’t tell you what a tremendous pleasure it is to have had you work for the state. There are a number of sites that could stand investigation, and I would reward you for looking into them.”
Ivrian looked eagerly to Mirian.
She cleared her throat. “With all due respect, Baron, while we’ll be happy to work with you again, Jekka still has some unfinished business.”
“Oh?” The baron looked to Jekka, then back to Mirian.
“We recovered the
book cones of his people, but we’ve had little time to review them.”
“I see.”
“If he learns any information about where other members of his clan live, I think we owe it to him to make getting there our first priority.”
“Of course. I would expect nothing less. Most of the sites I’m aware of would be more speculative ventures anyway, and perhaps not as remunerative. If you learn of one yourselves, I hope you’ll keep the needs of Sargava in mind.”
“Naturally, Baron.”
The baron brought his hands together in a soft clap and met Mirian’s dark eyes. “While your share of what you’ve brought back is no doubt enough on its own to take care of the matter, I want you to know that, regardless of the total, your family’s debts are no longer a concern. I’ve written your mother, to offer both my condolences and my thanks.”
Mirian bowed her head. “She will be honored, I’m sure.”
The baron smiled a little sadly. “Jekka, in honor of your assistance, I am awarding you Sargavan citizenship. If Mirian Raas has taken you into her family, then allow me to invite you into the larger family of our nation.”
From his pocket he produced a bronzed medallion on a chain and passed it across the table. “This symbolizes your status as an official diplomatic ambassador to Sargava. No citizen or officer of the state can ever question your right to enter any Sargavan settlement, so long as you keep that upon you and show it when questioned.”
The lizard man took the object and lifted it in clawed fingers. Ivrian leaned close, but couldn’t catch all the words engraved upon the circle—something about the bearer, and rights and full honors.
“And as for you, Ivrian, I’ve lost one of my best agents. Do you have any interest in following in her footsteps?”
“I know it was her fondest wish that I take up government work,” Ivrian said. “But I’ll echo what Mirian’s said: I’d like to assist Jekka before I make any decisions.”
“Then I’ll repeat that I hope you’ll keep us in mind, Lord Galanor, when you finish helping your friend.”
“You are very kind, Baron.”
Sargava’s ruler rose, straightening his jacket, and then escorted them down the hall and stair and chatted with them in the entryway while a coach was brought around.
Beyond the Pool of Stars Page 29
