What is Chazen Saril thinking? If Sirket begets a child on Itrac, she's still married to Chazen. Her first child will be the new heir to the Chazen domain. Is this what Sanl wants? If he sires that child, there could well be whispers about a taint of magic clinging to him. Sirket is demonstrably untouched by any enchantment.
Would Saril be thinking so far ahead? He's never shown that kind of prescience before. He's not even looking ahead to the dry season, to sailing south to reclaim his domain.
Or is he thinking ahead? Is he thinking of something else entirely? Could he be looking to take over the southernmost Daish islands? Surely not. Sirket would fight him, with the backing of Redigal and Ritsem both.
But what if Sirket died, at a wild man's hand or from some pestilence? What if Sain, in her grief, her new Daish son fatherless, turned to wed Chazen Sanl, whose remaining wife was also carrying a child of Daish blood? He would have a claim to rule, as defender of children of the last two warlords so tragically slam, in such ominous circumstances.
Janne and Rekha would have something to say about that, and all their children with them. Though entire families can perish in the same calamity, a fire, sudden illness. Such catastrophe would raise suspicions within the private counsels of Ritsem and Redigal but who could gainsay Chazen if all the signs pointed to sorcerous malice encompassing such deaths? He need be nowhere near, cosily ensconced with Sain in the southern residence.
What are you thinking of? You're weaving frustrated fantasies out of unfounded suspicion because you've been shut up in this cursed cabin ever since we reached Endit waters.
You're imagining convoluted conspiracies because you've nothing better to do.
'Then find something to do!' Daish Reik had never shown any patience with children complaining of boredom 'Think what may be asked of you later, tomorrow, the day after. Make ready, study, plan ahead while you have leisure, so you don't come running to me weeping because you've failed at something.'
Kheda unbuckled the nondescript bag that Shek Kul's body slave had brought him before his departure. He fished out a small lacquered box holding reed paper, pens and an inkpot stuffed with tandra fluff to save spills. Pen hovering over the pristine paper as he wondered what to write, his eyes strayed to another small box that Shek Kul had given him, lid secured all around with wax and stamped with the warlord's personal seal on all four sides.
You've some news for Janne but there's still this messenger Suis has been promising for the last two days. If the messenger can take you to this Dev character, you may well have far more to tell her. How soon can you meet her? This will have to go by whatever courier Suis can find for you. Best to send it to the thousand-oyster isle; that's closer than the rainy-season residence. Either Janne will be there herself or some trusted slave who can send her a messenger bird. Better allow the time for her to get the message and travel to meet you. In the meantime hopefully you'll have talked to this messenger. You can't afford to waste any more time. What can you write? Nothing that might be understood by unfriendly eyes but all Daish Kheda's ciphers died with him.
Kheda drew a swift half circle and below it, larger, a full roundel.
As long as Janne has the wit to read that for the Lesser Moon's half and the Greater's full, that gives her fifteen days. That can be a wager against the future, that I'll have something to tell her. Her journey will doubtless catch Chazen Saril's eye. Maybe he'll look away from Sain and Sirket for a while.
Rolling the reed paper tight, he found a small stick of wax in the box of writing materials and held it in the flame of the candle lantern Suis had grudgingly granted him to light this confinement. He sealed the tiny roll of paper with a thick wax drop and opened the door to the trireme's oar deck.
'Sail master Falce.' Kheda cleared his throat politely. 'Could you take this message to Shipmaster Suis, please. I need it taken to an outer reef known as the thousand-oyster isle. There's a tower of silence there.' He proffered the paper. 'There will be someone there to take it.'
'Very well.' Falce hadn't quite perfected Suis's immobility of face. His thick brows rose before he accepted the sealed roll with a shrug declaring louder than any words this was none of his business and he intended keeping it that way.
As the sail master took the ladder to the stern platform, Kheda found himself rebelling at the thought of going back into hiding. He took a deep breath of the fresher air and welcomed the light falling between the side decks to illuminate the gangway between the banks of oars, even if the sky overhead was the inevitable rainy-season grey.
He approached a couple of the rowers who were methodically checking the thole pins and oar ports. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'
One of the men looked at him, curious. 'Do you know how to check an oar lashing?'
'I do.' Kheda slid into one of the bottom seats, where the lowest of the three ranks of rowers toiled. There was a powerful stench of sweat, legacy of the rowers' unquestioning obedience to Shek Kul's command for a fast passage south. Kheda found the rope holding the oar to the thole pin had indeed worked slack. He tightened it as Ialo had taught him, bending hopefully to peer out through the oar port. The leather sleeve rigged against foul weather blocked his view.
'You've done that before.' A rower on the topmost seat above surprised him. 'And got an oarsman's calluses,' the man added as Kheda looked up.
'Tai!' Back on the gangway, Fake rebuked him with a sharp look. 'Less chat, more work.'
Kheda bent to checking the next convoluted knot and the next, and then the one after that. Working in companionable silence, he and his new shipmates were well on their way through checking the topmost rank of oars when Suis appeared down the ladder from the stern platform and nodded with slow significance.
'Yes?' Kheda moved out into the gangway as Suis came down the ladder.
'Your message is sent.' The shipmaster stood to one side. 'And the message you've been expecting has arrived.'
Kheda slowly rubbed leather oil from his hands as a slender girl descended from the stern platform. Undernourished, with stains of exhaustion beneath blue eyes that were almost as black as her hair, her much worn clothes were heavily travel-stained. She held up a tightly sealed packet of oiled paper, looking expectantly at Kheda.
'In the cabin.' Kheda followed this unlikely courier through the door with a nod of thanks to Suis. He relit his candle lantern, shaking fingers fumbling with his spark maker, and shut the cabin door tight. There was no seal on the wax sticking the oiled paper together. Kheda cracked it open to find a few lines of nonsensical writing. He tugged the leather thong over his head. The girl sat on the floor, tousled head hanging wearily.
'If you're the man I think you are, you'll find the cipher key in that.'
Kheda twisted Shek Kul's heavy silver ring until he could see the inscription inside, a meaningless circle of letters and symbols, unless you had the wit to lay it on your hand with the talisman gem aligned with the north and then to start reading from the arc where the heavenly Emerald would be riding high come nightfall. Kheda looked at the first letter of the message and found the same symbol within the circle of the ring. It was the ninth from the arc of health and daily duty. Mentally running through the usual alphabet, Kheda identified the letter T. That was a promising beginning. He reached for his writing box before recalling Daish Reik's rebukes.