“So that’s where you were?” Dolmaero looked just the smallest bit skeptical, and Ruiz realized: He knows me better than any of the others, even Nisa.
“Yes. The barges move rapidly, but not so fast that we won’t be able to jump aboard — provided that their decks are undefended, as the last one was.”
“Meanwhile, what shall we do? Shall we eat? It’s lunch-time.” Molnekh looked cheerfully famished.
“Why not?”
They sat on the landing’s steps and ate the last of Corean’s food. Ruiz tried to clear his mind of the unpleasantnesses that, it seemed, must soon occur. He had no reasonable hope that another barge would pass through before Corean caught up with them; still, why deny the sweetness of the moment. The sun was warm on his back, and Nisa sat close to him, her thigh pressed comfortably against his. It was possible that Corean would not arrive until tomorrow morning — if not, he hoped to enjoy another night in Nisa’s arms. It seemed a worthwhile way of spending his last night.
No! He mustn’t accept, he mustn’t give up. Cold rationality would be of little use at this point; an entirely rational being in his position would have long ago perished.
He examined the landing with an eye to ambush. He had the splinter gun. He could hide the others in the bushes. He could tie Flomel to one of the landing’s poles, a sacrificial goat. Maybe Corean would assume Flomel to be excess baggage left behind when they fled, and stop to question him. Who could tell; perhaps Corean would be foolish enough to emerge from her boat unarmored, and he could potshot her. He looked up at the carved gate. If Corean’s craft approached the clearing at a low level, as would be the case if she was using mech sniffers, Ruiz might be able to hide atop the lintel, in the wingfolds of one of the granite reptiles.
Well, it was a plan, though not a terribly good one. Still, it was far better than supine acceptance.
Ruiz finished his lunch and leaned back against the warm stone. Suppose another barge actually did arrive. How would he get everyone aboard? The barges apparently moved at a fairly high speed. Ruiz might be able to run fast enough to keep up with one for a short distance but none of the others seemed that quick. They’d have one chance to jump aboard; anyone who missed would be left behind. Flomel would try to be a problem; if he dragged his feet, he might slow one of them disastrously.
The others had finished their lunch and were sitting in a silent group on the other side of the landing steps, looking about aimlessly.
Ruiz stood. “Come,” he said. “Let’s discuss strategy.”
The others rose. Dolmaero tugged Flomel to his feet; the mage now regarded the Guildmaster with the same virulent hatred he directed at Ruiz.
“To the canalside,” said Ruiz.
When they all stood on the bank, Ruiz spoke. “The problem is more complex than it looks. The barges move rapidly, and we will have but one chance to board — supposing that the barges are uncrewed and undefended, as the last one was. Also, we don’t know which way the barge will be coming. If it’s going south, that would be best, since we are on this bank. However, if it’s going north, it will travel in the far channel.”
“How will we reach it?” asked Dolmaero.
“A good question. I have a plan; it may work.” Ruiz glanced at the trees on the north side of the clearing. He selected an overhanging branch about the diameter of Flomel’s neck, pulled the splinter gun out, and fired a burst. The spinning wires cut through the wood and dropped the branch into the canal, where it shuddered and disintegrated.
Molnekh stepped cautiously back from the verge. “I’d been hoping for a bath,” he said wryly.
Ruiz smiled and shrugged. “Inadvisable.” He turned to Flomel. “I must warn you now, Master Flomel. If you’re in any way obstructive, I’ll have to use the gun; I can’t let Corean catch you, as richly as you deserve that fate.”
Flomel swallowed, eyes wide. “I understand.” For the moment the mage seemed subdued and tractable.
“Anyway,” Ruiz continued. “If we see a northbound barge, I’ll try to drop a tree across the first channel, which we must all scramble over before the barge reaches the landing. Then we must distribute ourselves along the bank, for reasons that will be obvious. I’ll jump on first, so I can help catch you. Then Nisa, followed by Dolmaero, then Flomel, then Molnekh. This is the technique you must use: Before the barge reaches you, you must run as fast as you can in the direction the barge is moving. When it reaches you, run a little faster and jump aboard. With any luck, none of us will break an ankle.”
“There’s that word again,” said Dolmaero — but he was smiling.
“I’m afraid so,” said Ruiz.
The Pharaohan men settled in the shadow of the gate to wait. Dolmaero and Molnekh made an effort to restore their stubbly heads to a decently shaven state, using the dagger Ruiz had given Dolmaero. They took turns scraping at each other’s scalp, the scraper working industriously, the scrapee making terrible faces as the not-very-sharp knife did its damage.
After a while, they reluctantly agreed to shave Flomel, and Ruiz thought to detect a certain pleasure in Molnekh’s homely face as he inflicted pain on the senior mage.
But finally all were restored to a socially acceptable condition, their scalp tattoos glowing in the sunlight.
Ruiz had decided to let his hair grow out, since his disguise as a Pharaohan snake oil peddler was thoroughly compromised — and already there was a fine black nap obscuring his fading tattoos.
A silence fell over the clearing. The only sound Ruiz could hear was the slight click and rattle that came from Molnekh and Flomel, who were doing dexterity exercises, passing small stones and twigs through their agile fingers. Ruiz found this an oddly touching exhibition of faith. It wasn’t terribly likely that the mages would ever practice their art again, even if they succeeded in escaping Sook — yet they remained devoted to their craft.
After a time even these sounds ceased, and the breeze went as light as a sigh. In this deeper silence, Ruiz heard the faint splash of dripping water.
He turned his head. It seemed to him that the sound originated from the north edge of the clearing, where a faint path led into the forest.
“Wait here,” he said to Nisa. “Call out if you hear or see anything — especially if a barge comes.”
He went into the forest, following the path. Less than fifty meters beyond the edge of the clearing, he came to a bower.
A fountain dripped a slow trickle of cool water over a bronze statue of some graceful browsing creature. It had a head much like an Old Earth deer, delicate and fey, but it had six long, powerful legs. The fountain fed a clear shallow pool surrounded by a low coping of pink granite. At the back of the pool the overflow slid glistening over a Watergate into a tiny stream that meandered off toward the canal.
Ruiz sat for a moment on the coping, trailing his fingers through the water. He shut his eyes. For the minute he sat there, his mind was blessedly empty.
He went back to the others and told them about the fountain. He turned to Nisa and said, “Would you like to bathe? You must be ready to abandon your bath instantly, should a barge come — even if it means boarding naked and dripping.”
Nisa smiled delightedly. “Oh yes. I’ll be ready to leap out, I promise… but it would be so good to be clean.”
“All right. The Noble Person will bathe first, then the rest can take a turn.”
She was undressing as the two of them walked down the path, handing her garments to him as fast as she could pull them off. By the time they reached the pool, she was running ahead, naked and lovely. She splashed into the pool and sank down into the cool water with a sigh of contentment.