“On their ship. It arrived yesterday, warning of famine to the south.”
Joesai nodded to Eiemeni and his man left on the run. Oelita’s face was compassion. He did not know what to say. She seemed to be able to lie as well as he lied. He dared not openly voice his suspicion of her for fear of walking into a trap Oelita had set for him. His respect for her deviousness increased enormously. Not content to organize a defense against attack, she was returning the attack ruthlessly. It had never happened to him before. “I love that woman,” he said darkly, locking his eyes with the heretic. “Whosoever harms her, I shall destroy.”
Oelita touched his arm. Her treacherous sympathy enraged him.
“Why was she with you?” he asked.
“We were discussing a publication scheme I’ve had in mind for a while. We hardly talked about it. We played kol and chatted about gentleness and the reasons why people should not destroy each other. Your wife thought she might be able to help me get a book of mine printed.”
So that’s how you reached her, he thought in an aside to Teenae. He cursed himself. All the time he had spent with Oelita escorting her back to Sorrow along the coast, she had known who he was and was plumbing him for weaknesses, preparing her counter-offensive. She had audacity to flaunt herself in front of him now. But there was nothing he could do but pretend innocence while she pretended innocence. “I want her back,” he said.
“They’re still here.”
“Who?”
“The Mnankrei.” She pointed impatiently. “Their ship.”
He had to grant her a chagrined smile. She constructed her story well. A Mnankrei freighter was indeed at anchor far out in the bay, its sails furled. He did not believe for a moment that Teenae was aboard. “What do you suppose they want of her?” he said with muted sarcasm. “Ransom?”
She stared at the ship with hatred. “What do you suppose they want of me? I will get her back for you. I have a score to even with them.”
“That sounds brutal coming from the mouth of the Gentle Heretic.”
She smiled briefly and tweaked his nose. “There are ways to even scores without being brutal, my chitin-hearted man. Watch me! I am not powerless. They think to use your wife to trap me. I will trap them!”
Eiemeni trotted back along the quay. “She is held in yonder ship. It is confirmed.” Eiemeni had his eyes fixed on Joesai.
For the first time Joesai looked out at the ship with alarm. He braked his alarm. Best not to rush too fast, he thought. Eiemeni was not old enough to be aware of the intricate turnings which a trap might take. A magician could convince you that his head was full of pebbles.
Joesai explored different theories. If Oelita had an alliance with the Mnankrei then the deception of the Mnankrei Death Rite would have been transparent from the beginning. But if there was such an alliance then Oelita was truly dangerous and rescuing Teenae would pose grave risk and might not even be possible. I will be forced to negotiate with Oelita.
She left, promising to be back. Joesai gathered the key strategists of his group at the inn for a game council, awaiting further intelligence. Rumor spoke of Mnankrei priests at the temple offering the Stgal to bring in wheat if that should prove necessary. Finally one of Joesai’s scouts returned with a grin. He had boarded the Mnankrei ship as a “port inspector” and indeed caught a glance of Teenae below decks while pretending to check harbor regulations. She was naked and manacled.
That was all Joesai needed to know. “We’ll sink the ship,” he said. When I get Teenae back, I’ll keep her in irons myself, he thought gruffly, not meaning it. Then he called a planning session.
16
The purple Njarae is the breeder of our ability. Does she not drown the careless sailor?
SEA PRIEST TONPA, Storm Master, sat in his carved swivel chair, long hair braided into his beard, his face scarred with the flying-storm-wave design, examining Teenae, who stood naked, ankles manacled, wrists manacled in brass chain, holding her head high, guarded by two erect seamen. He felt fatherly amusement for the tiny girl but was quite willing to hide that in order to properly terrify her.
Tonpa could see in the quivering of her mouth that she was not taking her humiliation well. Probably she was being silent to hide her near-tearful state. These Kaiel, who watered down their stock with the genes of the underclans, were all bluff. As the saying went, they were the kind who could only play games on a steady table.
“We arrive here,” he said severely, “after having run a storm to bring in relief supplies to the south. This port is an out-of-the-way call on our return, but we think of it as our sacred obligation to warn of the plague that brings famine to the Stgal communities below, for it must come here as the wheat ripens. And what do we find? Lies. Slander against the Mnankrei. It is not to be tolerated.”
He waited for her reply. She did not reply but stood rigidly stiff, her expression slightly disgusted as if the ship-smell of ripe sea creatures and salt offended her mountain nose.
“We hear of this act perpetrated against one of the most respected women of this community. True, she is a heretic. True she speaks falsehood and foolishness, but she does not lie. So who is the source of these lies? The innocent folk who live here are willing to listen to lies about the Mnankrei just as they are willing to listen to lies about the Kaiel, so they look no farther for truth. But we are the Mnankrei and so we look for the source of these vicious lies. Of course we suspect the Kaiel.
“Are not the Kaiel known for their devious lies and their arrogance? The kaiel insect spreads false scent so it can control. The priest insects who have usurped this name spread calumny for the same purpose. But the salt spray that clears the nose gives us immunity from such ensnarement.
“Was it hard to find you? It took a day. You stand on my deck against your will, shaved of your dignity, in fetters. We also have spies. Our spies are more brilliant than your spies. Haven’t we Culled for intelligence week by week while you baby-eaters wait for famine to tell you when to Cull?” He paused and cleaned his fingernails with the point of his knife. “A Kaiel posing as an o’Tghalie. True Kaiel deception. Futile. The wind that fills our sails does not need feet. Speak! Defend yourself or confess!”
To abate the adrenalin terror, the manacled woman clenched her fists and breathed heavily, breasts rising and falling with her chest, but she would not reply.
Tonpa flipped his knife and it sank into the deck, vibrating. One of the seamen recovered the thin weapon, returning it with a bow. The Storm Master never took his eyes off Teenae. He accepted a mug of warm broth from a boy who emerged up a ladder and still he did not unlock his nude victim from the brig of his gaze. He grew impatient.
“This woman you wish dead, whom you have so cowardly attacked in the name of the Mnankrei, is coming aboard ship. You know she is in no danger here. But because of your lies, she was difficult to persuade. I have had to offer hostages. You will have to face her.” He watched Teenae flinch and laughed the great laugh. “She does not know the truth.” He watched Teenae shrink. “I do.” He watched Teenae turn her head away ever so slightly. She was breaking. “I give you a choice. You may face her and keep silent and make your Contribution through Ritual Suicide to the larder of this ship which has sacrificed so much to bring food to those threatened with starvation, or you may speak with honor the truth and escape with only your nose being cut from your face for the crime of slander. Speak!”
Teenae was glaring at him with a hatred that had overwhelmed her fear — for the moment. Tonpa shrugged, deliberately feigning indifference. “It’s been a long voyage. Be stubborn. The men will not object to the taste of fresh meat.” He watched her eyes dart between her two guards. They were grinning. Her hatred crumbled to fear and he had her.