“I believe it.” Lanius waited for Grus to warn him not to get too enthusiastic about running the kingdom from the capital while his fellow king took the field. Grus didn’t do it. Instead, he threw back his head— and yawned. Lanius asked him, “How long do you aim to stay in the city of Avornis?”
“Today, maybe tomorrow,” Grus answered. “No longer than that. A couple of things I need to take care of here, and then I’ll be on my way down toward the Stura. It’s not like I haven’t fought in those parts before.”
“What are you going to do here?” Lanius asked.
Grus’ smile was all sharp teeth. “I know Petrosus isn’t your favorite minister,” he said. Lanius nodded. The other king went on, “You’ll be dealing with someone else from now on. Petrosus will spend the rest of his days in the Maze.”
“Even though he’s Ortalis’ father-in-law?” Lanius said in surprise.
“Because he’s Ortalis’ father-in-law,” Grus answered grimly.
“But Ortalis and Limosa ran off and got married by themselves,” Lanius said. “That’s how they both tell it.”
“I don’t care how they tell it,” Grus said. “Ortalis wouldn’t have chosen her if her father hadn’t pulled wires. And any which way, you can’t tell me Petrosus wouldn’t try to pull more now that he’s wedged his way into my family.”
In a way, that was funny. Grus had wedged his way into Lanius’ family the same way. And Grus didn’t just pull wires. He had the whole web of the kingdom in his hands. Pointing that out would not have endeared Lanius to him. The only thing Lanius found to say was, “You would know best.”
Even that earned him a sharp look from Grus. The other king was far from a fool, even if Lanius had to remind himself of that every so often. Grus said, “There are times when I wonder whether I know anything about anything.”
You know enough to hold on to things for yourself, Lanius thought. He said, “Will you use river galleys against the Menteshe?”
“If I can,” Grus answered. “Past that, I’ll just have to see.”
Lanius nodded. “All right. Until you see how things are down in the south, I don’t suppose you can say anything more.” He hesitated, then added, “Are you sure you want to send Petrosus to the Maze? He hasn’t done anything out of line that I’ve been able to see—and you’re right, I don’t like him a bit, so I wouldn’t be shy about telling you if he had.”
“I’m sure.” The older king sounded altogether determined.
“By all the signs, Ortalis and Limosa are happy newlyweds,” Lanius said.
Grus snorted. “Ortalis is getting laid regularly. Of course he’s happy. But what happens when that isn’t enough to keep him happy?” He made a particularly sour face. So did Lanius, who knew what his fatherin-Jaw meant, and wished he didn’t. He wondered what Limosa would think when she found out about her new husband’s… peculiar tastes.
Changing the subject seemed a good idea. Lanius said, “Gods go with you on your trip to the south.”
“Yes,” Grus said. They sat alone in a small audience chamber. A low table with a jug of wine and a couple of cups stood between them. Grus emptied his cup, then looked around to make sure no one lurked outside a window or in the hallway by the door. Only after he’d satisfied himself did he continue, “They’d better, don’t you think? Considering who’s behind Ulash, I mean.”
“Oh, yes. That’s what I had in mind, too.” Lanius also took another sip of wine.
Grus got up, came around the table, and set a hand on his shoulder. “You take care of things here. I’ll do what I can with the Menteshe— to the Menteshe.”
“Good.” Lanius beamed. Grus was starting to accept him as a real partner, not just as one in name only. No doubt Grus did so only because he had no choice. Lanius knew as much. He was no less pleased on account of that.
The fastest way south was by ship through the Maze. That made Hirundo unhappy. Even on the placid waters of the marsh, Grus’ general was less than a good sailor. He wagged a finger at the king. “Don’t you laugh at me now, Your Majesty, or I’ll pay you back when you get on a horse.”
“Me? I didn’t say a thing.” Grus contrived to look innocent.
Hirundo laughed, which made him suspect his contrivance could have been better. “I saw what you were thinking. The only thing I can say for this is, it’s better than going out on the open sea.” He shuddered at the memory.
“It’s better than horseback, too,” Grus said.
“Some people might think so,” Hirundo answered pointedly. “I don’t happen to be one of them.” He glanced around at the water, the weeds and branches floating in it, the muddy, grassy tussocks rising just out of it, and shook his head. “I think the only real reason you came through here was so you could see for yourself the monastery you picked out for Petrosus.”
Grus had seen the monastery. It sat in the middle of a tussock big enough to be called an island. The only way off was by boat, and even boats had trouble getting through the mud surrounding it. All the same, the place was built like a fortress. Monks who came there would assuredly spend the rest of their lives in prayer.
Something landed on Grus’ arm. It bit him. He swatted. He didn’t know whether he smashed it or not. A moment later, something else bit him on the back of the neck. He swatted there, too. The bug squashed under his fingers. He wiped his hand on a trouser leg. Monks at Petrosus’ new monastery might spend every spring and summer praying to be plagued by fewer bugs.
Hirundo was swatting, too. “Miserable things. This place is good for nothing—not a single cursed thing.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Grus said. “I can’t think of any place much better for getting rid of troublemakers.” He sent Hirundo a speculative stare.
“Don’t look at me that way!” the general exclaimed. “Don’t you dare, Your Majesty! You tell anybody—me, for instance—he’s liable to have to stay here for the rest of his days, and he’ll be good forever. I know I would.”
“Don’t give me that. I’ve known you too long, and I know you too well,” Grus said. “Nothing could make you stay good forever, or even very long.”
“The threat of staying here for the rest of my life would do it,” Hirundo insisted. “Offhand, I can’t think of anything else.”
When the sun set, the flies and gnats went away and the mosquitoes came out. Their high, thin whine was enough to drive anyone mad. Some of the sailors, more used to traveling through the Maze than Grus was, draped fine mesh nets over themselves and slept without being badly bothered. Grus got some of the netting for himself, too. One of the things nobody told him, though, was how to pull it over himself without letting mosquitoes get in under it. The king passed an uncomfortable night and woke with several new bites from the company he hadn’t wanted.
Noticing Pterocles scratching as the wizard ate bread and ale for breakfast, he asked, “Don’t you have any magic against mosquitoes?”
Mournfully, the wizard shook his head. “I wish I did, Your Majesty. Maybe I’ve spent too much time worrying about big things and not enough about small ones,” he answered, and scratched some more.
Oarmasters on the river galleys got their rowers working as soon as they could. They worked them hard, too, harder than Grus would have in their place. When he remarked on that to the oarmaster of his own ship, the man replied, “Sooner we get out of this miserable place, sooner we stop getting eaten alive.” Grus had a hard time disagreeing with that.
But getting through the Maze in a hurry wasn’t easy, either. Galleys and barges went aground on mud banks and had to back oars or, when badly stuck, to be towed off by other ships. Rowers and officers shouted curses.