Would his act be more believable if he sought a more explicit promise? Probably, but he’d never find the right words to ask. He should demand something else, though, so his capitulation didn’t seem too easy.
He looked down at his clenched hands. “I want a document to take back to my officers, signed and sworn in the Mother’s name, declaring that you discovered the Secret independently, and that I gave you no information to help your cause against Ramunna.”
Meira frowned. “Elkan won’t swear to a false statement.”
Tenorran made his eyes linger on her body before he dragged them away with a show of reluctance. “If I don’t have it, I’ll be executed for treason.”
Meira hesitated, her teeth tugging at her lip. She resumed her suggestive tone, but it was strained. “We can’t let that happen. I’ll see what I can do.”
“All right.” Tenorran picked up his spoon and scooped a bite of porridge. “What do you want to know?”
“Come with me to the forge where smiths are working on our weapon. You can look it over and make sure we’ve got it right.” She leaned back in her chair with a flirtatious quirk of her eyebrows. “After we finish eating.” She picked up her bowl and took a deliberate bite.
“All right.” Tenorran addressed himself to the porridge, furiously considering what subtle misinformation he could give her about the weapon’s design. It had to be something she’d believe. The wizards had seen the weapons through their windows; he couldn’t contradict what they’d observed. And it had to be something that would render their weapon inoperable, or at least impair it significantly. Something so innocuous they wouldn’t even understand why their homemade weapon didn’t work the way the Armada’s did.
Meira waved a spoonful of porridge in his face. “How do you like it? It’s sweetened with maple sugar; Elkan said you don’t have that in Ramunna. The walnuts come from the Matriarch’s shipment. Luckily Korisan had a decent oat harvest last fall, so we won’t run out any time soon.” She licked the sticky porridge from the spoon.
Tenorran did his best to react as she’d expect. How long would he have to keep up this charade? Was Meira really pursuing him, or was her desire as false as his own? If he was lucky, as soon as she had what she wanted, she’d turn cold. Then he’d only have to fake anger at being tricked.
If he wasn’t lucky, she’d continued to press her attentions on him. Then he’d have to dissuade her without letting her realize she hadn’t actually seduced the information out of him. His life depended on the Tevenarans believing his lies about the weapon.
Because when they returned him to the Armada, the scrap of paper he’d demanded would be worthless. Only dramatic evidence that he’d successfully sabotaged the enemy could save him from the hangman’s rope.
* * *
Meira surveyed the full-size clay model of the weapon. It would shape the mold the smiths would use to cast the iron tube. The smiths had worked from sketches of the Ramunnans’ weapons Elkan had provided. He’d examined their handiwork and declared it a good copy of what he’d observed through the Mother’s windows.
She forced her thoughts away from the memory of Elkan’s tall form stalking around and around the model, his keen eyes raking it from end to end, his graceful hands brushing back his thick hair impatiently whenever it fell across his face. She’d been so glad to see he hadn’t cut it. If only she could run her fingers through those shining black strands…
He’d made it abundantly clear she’d never get the chance. For an instant when their eyes had first met she’d been sure he’d changed his mind. How could he pretend he hadn’t felt that shock of connection? But for the rest of the evening he’d treated her with the same reserved companionability he showed everyone else. He hadn’t reacted when she let Zagan take more liberties than usual. This morning his manner had unfailingly been that of a friend and coworker. He’d expressed no qualms about her plan to win Tenorran’s cooperation, even excusing himself so she could be alone with the young Ramunnan officer.
Clearly he still believed his commitment to the Mother and his duties as a wizard precluded any relationship. Maybe he was right. Meira certainly didn’t want to distract him from preparing Tevenar to fight the Ramunnans. In the few hours they’d spent together this morning she’d seen how people were constantly interrupting him with crisis after crisis they were certain only he could solve. He’d treated them all with courtesy, firmly delegated whatever he could, and dealt with the genuine emergencies efficiently, all while staying focused on the tasks he and Meira had set out to accomplish. He had no time to waste on personal matters.
Neither did Meira, really. She’d be working sunup to sundown to get the weapons ready in time. She should concentrate on her work so Elkan could concentrate on his. No matter how hard it was to ignore the feelings that swirled through her body whenever she was near him.
Tenorran circled the long cylinder, eyeing it critically. She followed him with her eyes, curving her lips appreciatively whenever he glanced her way. He’d responded to her enticement just the way she’d hoped. She suspected he had little experience with women, because his reactions had been endearingly awkward. In other circumstances she might even have been willing to educate him. But though he was a handsome youth, he held no appeal for her. Next to Elkan he was like a kitten next to Tobi.
She felt guilty about taking advantage of his innocent eagerness. But the deception would be worth it if Tenorran could steer them away from any disastrous mistakes in the construction of the weapon.
“It looks good,” he reported. “I’ve never seen one being made, but as far as I can tell this is just like the one aboard the Sinvanna.” He scowled. “Which is at the bottom of the ocean, now.”
“Too bad we can’t retrieve it,” Meira said lightly. “Then we’d have an example to work from. Does the thickness look correct to you?” She caressed the curve of the weapon. “It’s going to have to be strong to hold up to the force of the blasting powder, but every extra inch is more iron used and more weight we’ll have to transport.”
Tenorran thrust one hand inside the mouth of the weapon and laid the other on the outside. “I never measured, but it seems about right.”
“And the length?”
Tenorran squinted at the far end of the model, but his hand kept stroking the inner curve of the tube. Meira stifled her amusement at the blatant innuendo. “The longer, the better. The range, I mean.” His voice shifted from teasing to thoughtful. “You might be able to make yours longer than ours, since you don’t have to fit them into the tight spaces aboard ship.”
Meira’s heart quickened. “That’s a good idea. We need range most of all. If these weapons can’t reach farther than the Mother’s power, there’s not much point in making them.”
“I guess not.”
Tenorran seemed oddly fascinated by the interior of the weapon. Was this more clumsy suggestiveness, or had he noticed something? Meira moved closer and peered into the dark hole. “What lies in the mysterious depths? Elkan and the other wizards never got a good view inside, because it was too dark to show up in a window.”
Tenorran stared into the weapon’s mouth. “It needs to be very smooth. Any ridges or roughness will slow the ball and shorten its flight. After every shot we scrubbed the bore to remove the soot and unburnt powder. After every drill we spent hours polishing it. Commander Kesolla said it should be as bright as a mirror and as slick as—” He turned bright red and shrugged. “You get the idea.”
Meira pressed her lips together to contain her laughter. “That’s good to know.” She ran her hand around the model’s inner surface, feeling the slightly uneven texture of the clay. “You can only get cast iron so smooth. We’ll have to grind and polish it. It will take longer before we can run the first tests, but that will be much better than getting disappointing results and having to spend days figuring out why.”
“Yes.” Tenorran straightened. “Any more questions?”
“Come around to the other end a
nd make sure we’ve got the firing mechanism right. Elkan had to guess based on what he could see. The small shaft for the powder that sets off the explosion goes all the way into the center chamber, correct?”
“That’s right.” Tenorran followed her to the weapon’s thicker, closed end. “We call this the breech, and the other end the muzzle. The priming charge goes into the vent.”
Meira concentrated on committing the Ramunnan words to memory. She called over the smith in charge of the project and had Tenorran repeat them. Sharing a vocabulary for the various parts of the weapon would make it easier to communicate about needed modifications. She’d have to write up a list of terms for Elkan and Josiah.
She drew Tenorran’s attention to the small pile of iron spheres the smiths had produced. “What about these?” She ignored the obvious potential for off-color comments. She was tired of raising expectations she had no intention of fulfilling. Now that Tenorran had surrendered his information, there was no point in continuing to lead him on.
He picked up one of the heavy balls with a grunt and carried it to the mouth of the model. “Too big,” he said, showing her. “Loading goes much faster if the balls aren’t such a tight fit.”
His tone was serious, free of any teasing ribaldry. He really was an innocent, to miss such blatant opportunities for double-entendres. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. “Doesn’t the force of the blast escape through the gap?”
“Not enough to matter.” He dropped the ball back on the pile. “Any other questions?”
“We’ve covered everything I was concerned about. Do you think this weapon will work as well as the Armada’s?”
He stared at the model. “I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t.”
“Good.” Meira gestured to the door. “Let’s go see what Elkan’s arranged.”
He was waiting for them just outside. “How did it go?”
“Tenorran was very helpful. Have you found a place for him?”
“Master Ralshan has a room available. His niece from Elathir was using it, but she can move in with her sister. He’s not happy about taking work home with him, but he understands the necessity.”
Meira frowned. Master Ralshan was the head of the Watch in Korisan. When he’d let her into Tenorran’s cell, he’d been curt, almost hostile. His home might not be a pleasant place for Tenorran.
She shook off the concern. It would be far better than the tiny jail cell, at least. That was only meant to house prisoners for a day or two until they were tried. “All right. Let’s go.”
Ralshan met them at his door and ushered them to a spacious bedroom. “He’d better not make any trouble. I don’t see why he couldn’t have stayed where he was. My watchers are stretched thin as it is with so many people in town, and now I’m going to have to commit one to guarding him.” He glared at Tenorran.
“Tenorran’s been very helpful. He’s earned his reward.” Meira smiled at Ralshan, but his frown remained fixed.
“You don’t have to guard him full time,” Elkan said. “If you lock him in you’ll only need someone to escort him to the plaza for meals.”
Ralshan gave him an incredulous look. “This is my home, not a prison. There’s no lock on this door. Even if I have one installed, he could be out a window and gone without breaking a sweat.”
Elkan grimaced, looking at the large windows that let in plenty of light. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I won’t try to escape,” Tenorran said. They all swiveled to look at him. “I give you my parole.” At their puzzled looks, he clarified. “My promise. When the Armada captures officers, they’re allowed some freedoms in exchange for their vow not to abuse them.”
Relief washed over Elkan’s face. “Excellent. I accept your vow, in the Mother’s name. You may go to meals unescorted, and to the privy as needed, as long as you remain in this room the rest of the time. Ralshan, check on him mornings and evenings, and keep an eye out to make sure he’s obeying the terms. Let me know if there’s any problem.”
The watcher looked back and forth from Tenorran to Elkan. “You’ve got to be joking. You trust one of our enemies to keep his word?”
“I do. I know Tenorran is an honorable man.” Elkan gave the Ramunnan a pointed look, then turned back to Ralshan. “As acting Guildmaster, I require you to carry out my instructions.”
There was anger in Ralshan’s eyes, but he nodded formally. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Elkan turned to leave. Meira followed him.
“Wait.” She turned back at Tenorran’s protest. “I thought… When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know. I’m very busy. Maybe at meals?” She shrugged.
“But you promised…”
She hated the plaintive hurt in his voice. “I promised you a better room, and here it is. And some freedom, which you have. Elkan will bring you the document you asked for. What else did you think I was offering?”
He looked at Elkan and Ralshan, then dropped his gaze to the ground. “Nothing,” he muttered.
She felt sorry for him, but he should have known better than to make a bargain without spelling out the terms. Besides, there was a hint of relief under the disappointment in his voice. The idea of being seduced by an older woman had excited him, but she expected he’d found the idea of actually following through intimidating.
“Thank you again for your help,” she told him. “I hope you enjoy your improved conditions.” She nodded at him and left. As Ralshan shut the door behind them she saw Tenorran sit down on the bed and stare out the window.
“What was that about?” Elkan asked her.
“I let him think I was offering a, um… more personal reward.” She grinned wryly, inviting him to share her amusement. “He just realized I misled him.”
“You what?” Elkan glanced at Ralshan and held his tongue until the watcher had ushered them out. As soon as the door closed behind them, he rounded on her. “You said you were going to flirt with him, not try to bribe him with—with—” He reddened and looked away.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Perhaps he wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed. “It’s not like I ever intended to carry through.”
“That’s worse. If I’d been willing to use lies to win his cooperation I could have done it long ago.” He glowered at her.
“Maybe you should have. I got us the information we needed. If you didn’t want my help, you shouldn’t have asked for it.”
“I need your help, but I don’t need you resorting to unethical tactics.”
“You’re the one who keeps reminding people this is a war. Is sticking to your ethics worth losing Tevenar over?”
His shoulders slumped. “Not if that’s the choice. But this wasn’t.”
“You don’t know that. You certainly hadn’t gotten anything out of Tenorran before I stepped in.”
“I was making progress. He would have come around eventually.”
“Eventually wouldn’t have helped. We need the information now, while we’re still working with a model that’s easily changed. You should be thanking me, not criticizing my methods.”
Elkan ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. Time is precious. Tenorran’s confirmation that we’ve got the design right may be the factor that lets us finish the weapons before the Ramunnans attack. Thank you.”
“My joy is in the service.”
He flinched at the sarcasm in her words. Meira’s annoyance abruptly faded. She put a hand on his arm. “No, truly. I mean it.”
“I know.” He patted her hand, then moved away, breaking the contact. “They’ll start serving the midday meal in the plaza soon. If we’re at the front of the line, you can get out to the mill soon enough to make the trip worthwhile, and I can finish some paperwork before I head down to the camp.”
“I thought you put Master Edniel in charge of training the volunteers.”
“She’s been having trouble with quarrels breaking out. Occasionally she needs me to help them settle their diff
erences before things get out of hand.”
“What are they fighting about?” Meira asked.
“Personal disagreements, guild rivalries, that sort of thing. Nothing serious. It’s to be expected with so much disruption of their lives. No one’s sleeping well, the weather keeps getting hotter, and too many people are crowded into too small an area. Some of them have been here for weeks and are getting impatient. Once we march on Elathir it will get better. In the meantime we try to keep them busy with training so they’re too tired to cause much trouble.”
“I’d think they’d remember that the Ramunnans are their enemies, not their fellow Tevenarans.”
“The Ramunnans are far away. Easier to take out fear and anxiety on your neighbor.” They emerged from a side street into the plaza in front of the Mother’s Hall. “Don’t worry. The situation is under control.”
Meira followed Elkan toward the forming line at the temporary kitchen. Dozens of cooks labored over a cluster of pots and grills. Delicious scents rose from the dishes they piled onto the serving tables.
They were halfway across the plaza when Elkan stopped suddenly. Meira followed his gaze to a group of people striding toward them.
“Father?” Elkan said in a stunned voice.
“There you are,” said the man in the lead. Even without Elkan’s exclamation Meira would have known they were related, because the man was like an older, harsher copy of his son. “We’ve been looking for you ever since we got here. Thought you’d be in there with your beast and the rest of them, but they told us you’d gone down to the camp. We dropped off our tents and gear, but you weren’t there, so they sent us to the docks. They told us some nonsense about a mill, but we figured we’d better get a bite to eat before trekking out there.”
“It’s good you didn’t waste a trip.” Elkan shook his head. Neither he nor his father made any move to embrace or even clasp hands. “I didn’t expect you to come.”
His father scowled. “You thought I’d sit idle while others fought the invaders? Even if I’d been so inclined, the rest of the family wouldn’t have heard of it. We’re ready to do whatever’s needed to win Tevenar back.”
The Wizards' War Page 20
