Seyganko tied the fish to the stern of his canoe with the trident cord, sat down, and began paddling toward shore. Even his strength was not equal to bringing the catch aboard, but in water too shallow for other lionfish, it would not be attacked before he could summon help.
Seyganko paddled directly for shore, although this meant landing not far from Dobanpu's cave. He had heard nothing of the man for three days, save that he yet lived and that spirits sent by the God-Men might yet be a danger to him. For these reasons— and also, Seyganko thought, out of pride—Emwaya had nursed him herself and sent the curious about their affairs.
What she would not say to the curious, Seyganko decided, she might say to her future husband. And the lionfish was worth saving even if he learned nothing from Emwaya. Paddling around the point of the island would give other lionfish time to gather, scent the blood trail, and follow it. In strength, they had been known to attack a canoe.
It was as well that for the most part, lionfish were solitary creatures, each claiming its portion of the lake and driving off all comers save for females in the mating season. Had they commonly hunted in schools like the eunuch-makers did, they would have eaten the lake bare of all life, probably including human.
The canoe was heavy and clumsy with the lionfish trailing astern, but Seyganko's strong arms and well-balanced paddle drove it swiftly toward shore. As the sun rose, it burned off the morning mist, and soon he could see the hill rising from amid the last gray wisps. At last he saw the reed enclosure that let Emwaya draw water, safe from lionfish and crocodiles, and even allowed her to swim when the spirit took her.
Dobanpu must have healed; a dark head broke the water in the enclosure. Seyganko smiled. If Emwaya was in a good frame of mind, she might let him join her. After they swam together, the most common end was rolling together in the grass.
Then the head grew shoulders and arms, and Seyganko saw that it was the form of a woman, but not of Emwaya. The Kwanyi slave girl was making free with the swimming place, as bare as a babe. In the light of day, and not frightened half out of her wits, she was even a greater pleasure to see than on the night of the raid.
"Where is your mistress?" he called in the True Tongue. She might hate her old masters with a passion, but she could hardly have been among them for long without learning at least a little of their speech.
The girl stood up, shook herself like a dog, then pointed toward the cave. Drops of water silvered by the morning sun sparkled in her hair and trickled down her breasts as she moved about. Seyganko would have thought her unaware of how well she appeared had he not caught a sly look from the corner of one brown eye.
He grinned. Apart from his oaths to Emwaya, which did not allow him another woman save with her permission, he doubted the wisdom of tumbling his betrothed's maidservant. He also knew a sure way of putting an end to her tricks.
"Ho! Woman of Emwaya, I have work for you." Seyganko heaved on the rope until the lionfish's tail was above water. "Come and help me haul this brute ashore!"
The girl took one look at the lionfish, another at Seyganko, then fled toward the mouth of the cave, still bare. Seyganko pulled the canoe ashore, sat down on the girl's waistcloth, and was whetting his trident with a piece of ironstone when Emwaya came down to him.
When he could free himself from her grip and let go of her, Seyganko held her at arm's length. He saw that she seemed paler and thinner than three days of any ordeal would warrant. Or at least any ordeal save one.
"Your father—"
"Dobanpu Spirit-Speaker lives. His sleep is now healthy, his dreams clean. I have fed him porridge and water, and they rest well in his belly."
She spoke as if still in a ritual, but he saw unaccustomed moisture in the corners of her eyes. He reached up to brush away the tears, and she gripped his wrists as if they were the last things between her and drowning.
"Seyganko, forgive my weakness. I did not mean you to see me this way—"
"No, you are not like that wench you have taken into your service. She meant me to see her as she was swimming."
"I thought as much when she came uphill bare. What did you say to her?"
Seyganko told the truth, and Emwaya rewarded him with a laugh that held some of her usual good cheer. "I will help you with the fish and then have words with Mokossa."
"Is that her name?"
"I think it is the name of her tribe, one living beyond the lands of the Kwanyi. She is not child-minded, but living among the Kwanyi frightened her out of most of the wits she had."
"Not so much that she cannot have eyes for a warrior, I warn you."
"Any woman with sense will have eyes for you, Seyganko. I have just told you that Mokossa is a woman of sense."
"Do you seek to flatter me, Emwaya?"
"I have done so often enough that I do not need to try again."
If she was able to banter like this, she could hardly have dire news. It was in Seyganko's mind to slip his hands under the waistcloth and undo its knot, and the spirits take the lionfish!
Yet something in her voice—
"Did your father learn anything from the servant of the God-Men?"
"I think I can do as well drawing lionfish ashore as Mokossa. Since I do not wish a sodden waist-cloth—"
"Emwaya." He held her by the shoulders, so tightly that he half feared she would slap him. "Your father brought strong spirits, and he is not one to do that lightly. What did he learn?"
Emwaya shuddered but did not weep or try to pull away. After a moment, she reached up and gently lifted Seyganko's hands from her bare shoulders.
"The spirits were angry at fighting the protection the God-Men put on their servants. Also, I think some of them were hurt."
Spirits could be injured, though not as easily or in the same way as men. Seyganko knew enough of Dobanpu's art to have learned that. If the God-Men had power to put that kind of guarding on their servants—
"Are they angry with your father?"
"He said he thought not. Some spirits are friends of the God-Men, others their enemies, or at least enemies of the spirits they command."
Tribal feuds among the spirits! Seyganko silently cursed the spirits, those who made them, those who served them—
"The God-Men have learned that Xuchotl the Accursed has fallen."
The words came out as if Emwaya were purging herself of something foul. Indeed, her face seemed more content, and she leaned against Seyganko and pressed her face into his shoulder. He rested an arm across her back, feeling the fine skin and the strength within, but not seeking anything further now.
"How did it fall?"
"It was hard to tell. It seems that a Kwanyi hunter was seeking game far to the east at the time the city fell. He entered unharmed, explored it, saw that all within were dead, then fled, fearing that its destroyers would come for him. The God-Men learned his tale and gave him to the Living Wind. They seek to hide this knowledge until they know what use to make of it."
If the God-Men had the wits of a leech, they would be asking Dobanpu to join his knowledge to theirs to fight whatever had the power to cast down the Accursed City. Any such being could eat the tribes of the forest as a lionfish ate fingerlings.
The God-Men lacked such wisdom, however. Even if they found it now, Chabano of the Kwanyi would not let them spoil his dreams of conquest. And Dobanpu would most likely refuse to trust the God-Men even if they and Chabano both asked for his aid. Sey-ganko hoped he would not have to say the last in Emwaya's hearing. She knew her father could be proud and obstinate, but she had not granted her betrothed the right to say so.