Senga laughed. ‘You’re coming at me a little too fast, Col. Give me some time to adjust my thinking.’ Then he suddenly swore.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s a beautiful idea, Col, but it won’t work.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ll need Scarpa’s permission to set up shop here, and I’m not going to go anywhere near him to ask for it.’
‘I don’t think you’ll have to, my friend. I went rummaging around through those heaps of trash in Narstil’s camp yesterday, and guess what I found?’
‘What?’
‘A very fancy, silver-mounted cask of Arcian red. It’s even equipped with a silver spigot. The fellow who stole it didn’t know how much it was worth—he’s a beer man. I got it off him for half a crown. I’ll sell it to you, and you can make a present of it to that Krager fellow. Why don’t we let him persuade Scarpa to give you permission to go into business here?’
‘Col, you’re a genius. What’ll you take for that cask of Arcian red?’
‘Oh—five crowns, I guess.’
‘Five crowns? Ten times what you paid for it? That’s robbery.’
‘You ought to know, Senga. You’re my friend, but business is business, after all.’
They found the bleary-eyed Krager sitting on a broken wall watching the crowd of thirsty soldiers in the square without much interest. He held a tankard in one hand, and he drank from it occasionally with obvious distaste.
‘Ah, there you are, Master Krager,’ Senga said jovially. ‘Why don’t you dump out that slop and try a sup of this?’ He patted the ornate wine cask he was carrying under one arm.
‘More local swill?’ Krager asked.
‘Try it and see what you think,’ Senga suggested.
Krager emptied his wine out on the ground and held out his pewter tankard. Senga turned the handle of the silver spigot and dribbled about a half a cupful of Arcian red into it. Krager squinted into his mug and sniffed at it suspiciously. Then his eyes rolled up ecstatically. ‘Oh, dearie, dearie me.’ he breathed in a reverent tone of voice. He took a small sip and actually seemed to quiver with delight.
‘I thought you might like it,’ Senga said. ‘Now that I’ve got your attention, I’ve got a business proposition for you. I’d like to set up a permanent tavern here in Natayos, but I’ll need permission to do that. I’d take it as a real favor if you could see your way clear to put in a good word for me with Lord Scarpa. I’d be very grateful to you if you can get his approval.’
‘How grateful?’ Krager asked quickly.
‘Probably about this grateful.’ Senga patted the silver-mounted cask again. ‘Tell Lord Scarpa that I won’t cause any problems. I’ll pick one of these empty buildings a little way off from his main camp and clean it out and fix the roof my very own self. I’ll provide my own security and make sure that none of his soldiers gets too drunk.’
‘Go ahead and get started, Master Senga,’ Krager said, eyeing the cask. ‘You’ve got my personal guarantee that Lord Scarpa will agree.’ He reached out for the wine.
Senga stepped back. ‘After, Master Krager,’ he said firmly. ‘At the moment, I’m filled with appreciation. The gratitude comes after Scarpa gives his permission.’
Then Elron came hurrying across the crowded square. ‘Krager!’ he said in a shrill voice. ‘Come at once! Lord Scarpa’s in a rage. He’s commanded us all to meet him at headquarters immediately!’
‘What’s the matter?’ Krager rose to his feet.
‘Cyzada just came in from Cynesga. He told Zalasta and Lord Scarpa that Klael went to have a look at the fellow we’ve been following all this time! It’s not Sparhawk, Krager! Whoever it is looks like Sparhawk, but Klael knew immediately that it’s somebody else!’
16
‘I know it’s him, my Lady,’ Alcan insisted.
‘Alcan, dear,’ Ehlana said gently, ‘he doesn’t look the least bit like Sir Kalten.’
‘I don’t know how they’ve done it, but that’s Kalten out there in the street,’ the girl replied. ‘My heart sings every time he walks by.’
Ehlana peered through the little opening in the window. The man looked like an Elene, there was no question about that, and Sephrenia was a magician, after all.
The thought of Sephrenia filled the Queen’s eyes with tears again. She straightened, quickly wiping her eyes. ‘He’s gone by,’ she said. ‘What makes you so sure, dear?’
‘A thousand things, my Lady—little things. It’s the way he holds his head, that funny way he rolls his shoulders when he walks, his laugh, the way he hitches up his sword-belt. They’ve changed his face somehow, but I know it’s him.’
‘You could be right, Alcan,’ Ehlana concluded a bit dubiously. ‘I could probably pick Sparhawk out of a crowd no matter whose face he happened to be wearing.’
‘Exactly, my Lady. Our hearts know the men we love.’
Ehlana began to pace the floor, her fingers absently adjusting the wimple that covered her head. ‘It’s not impossible,’ she conceded. ‘Sparhawk’s told me about all the times he disguised himself when he was in Render, and Styric magic might very well be able to change people’s faces. And of course, if Sephrenia hadn’t been able to do it, Bhelliom certainly could have. Let’s trust your heart and say that it is Sir Kalten out there.’
‘I know it is, my Lady.’
‘It does stand to reason,’ Ehlana mused. ‘If Sparhawk’s somehow found out that we’re here, he’d most definitely want to have some of our friends close by when the rest of them come to rescue us.’ She frowned as a thought came to her. ‘Maybe he doesn’t know for sure, though. Kalten might just be here to look around. We have to come up with some way to let him know that we’re here before he gives up and moves on.’
‘But we’re imprisoned, my Lady,’ the girl with the huge eyes protested. ‘If we try to call out to him, we’ll put him in terrible danger.’ She bent and looked out at the street again. ‘He’s coming back,’ she said.
‘Sing, Alcan!’ Ehlana exclaimed suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Sing! ‘If anyone in the whole world would recognize your voice, Kalten would!’
Alcan’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘He would!’ she exclaimed.
‘Here. Let me watch his face. Sing your soul out, Alcan! Break his heart!’
Alcan’s voice throbbed as her clear soprano reached effortlessly up in aching song. She sang ‘My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Boy’, a very old ballad which Ehlana knew held special significance for her maid and the blond Pandion. The Queen looked out the window again. The roughly dressed man in the street was standing stock-still, frozen in place by Alcan’s soaring voice.
All doubt vanished from Ehlana’s mind. It was Kalten. His eyes streamed tears, and his expression had become exalted, adoring. And then he did something so unexpected that Ehlana was forced to revise her long-held opinion about his intelligence. He sat down on the mossy cobblestones, removed one shoe, and began to whistle an accompaniment to Alcan’s song. He knew. And he was whistling to let them know that he knew! Not even Sparhawk could have responded so quickly, or come up with so perfect a way to convey his understanding of the situation.
‘That’s enough, Alcan.’ Ehlana hissed. ‘He got our message.’
Alcan stopped singing.
‘What are you doing there?’ one of the Arjunis who guarded the door demanded, coming into view.
‘Stone in my shoe,’ Kalten explained, shaking the shoe he’d just removed. ‘It felt like a boulder.’
‘All right, move on.’
Kalten’s altered features took on a truculent look. He pulled his shoe back on and stood up. ‘Friend,’ he said in a pointed sort of way, ‘you’ll be getting off guard-duty before very long, and you might just decide to stop by Senga’s tavern for a few tankards of beer. I’m in charge of security there, and if you start pushing me around here, I might just decide that you’re too rowdy to be served when you get there. Understand?’