Umri sighed, and moved to the nearest tree that looked like it wouldn’t be completely uncomfortable to lean against. Above the trees the sky was bright, but the breeze had a chill edge that made her pull her shawl closer around her.
She was, she admitted to herself, just a bit frightened. She was miles from anyone or anything she knew, alone except for a tiny, has–been god who could definitely not be trusted. But if a few days of diving would bring her a bagful of gold, or two or three…she thought of what she would do with so much money. A boat perhaps, something like the Reasonable Expectations. She thought of traveling up and down the Nalendar, carrying cargo, taking passengers, beholden to no one but herself. In her imagination, the boat was painted blue and white, like the Reasonable Expectations was. She wondered just who owned it, and how much it would cost.
Leaves rustled. The skink coming back? No, it was too loud. She sat as still as she could manage, hardly daring to breathe, hoping that whoever it was would pass her by. The rustling came closer.
“Ah, here we are,” said a sickeningly familiar voice, and then its owner came around the tree and stood in front of where Umri sat, his blue and red coat brilliant even in the shade—Rilhat Imk.
Imk had his men—there were three with him—tie her to the wheel of a wagon parked on the shore of the lake. In front of her, near the trees, was a small tent, and not far off a raft sat half in and half out of the water. To the south, bullrushes lined the bank, and beyond them pink and purple water lilies. To the west, the main body of the lake was half a mile or more across, and backed by low, tree–covered hills.
“You followed me,” Imk said. He managed to sound both accusing and self–satisfied.
“I didn’t follow you.” She pulled against the ropes. She was sitting on the ground, her back to the wheel. “And this is really uncomfortable.”
Imk gestured to one of the slaves, a tall, slim man, dark–skinned and gray–eyed, who Umri was sure was from the Silver Isles. He disappeared into the tent, and Imk turned his attention back to Umri. “Then why are you here?”
“You said you were going south, so I went north. If I had any idea you would be here, I would never have…”
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that.” He bared his teeth in what she supposed was meant to be a grin. “It’s inconceivable that you ended up here by accident. You followed me south, and you followed me when I turned north, because you know as well as I do we have business to settle. I knew that it was impossible that you could turn me down.” He showed even more teeth.
She tilted her head slightly, sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. “I have turned you down. And I’ll turn you down again, as many times as you like.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, but his grin remained fixed. He turned his head and called sharply, and then strode towards the lake, two of his men following. The third came out of the tent and approached Umri, a wide cushion in his hands, blue embroidered with red and gold.
“My name is Nalemeindundawyumrisayedynaremend,” she said in her native language.
He stopped. “Ah. My sister is married to your father’s cousin’s foster son.”
Hope leapt up. “Let me go.”
The slave frowned and glanced at Imk and the other two, now conferring by the water. “There is treasure in the lake. Rilhat Imk has promised us our freedom and a share of the money. I am afraid if I let you go, he would find someone else to do his diving.”
“How do you know he’ll do what he says?”
“I have no reason to believe he won’t,” the man said, and set the cushion down beside her, kneeling as he did. “He seems decent enough.”
She yanked the bonds that held her to the wagon. “Decent men don’t tie women up!”
He made a doubtful gesture. “If you hadn’t tried to run away, there would have been no need.” This left Umri speechless. “If this is some sort of game you’re playing, I warn you not to take it too far. He could change his mind and fall in love with some other girl.” He shoved the cushion closer to her, and rose and walked down to the lakeside and stood with the others.
Umri took two or three deep breaths, and then closed her eyes. There would be some way out of this. She would find it. She felt her bonds with her fingers, trying to reach the knots, to see if she might be able to work them loose, all the time listening to the quiet lap of the water and the murmur of the men. When their voices changed, she opened her eyes.
Imk stood alone on the shore, watching as the three slaves pushed the raft into the lake. She watched them for a few moments, and then returned her attention to the ropes, but was brought up short by a skittering sound in a pile of leaves near her left foot. She froze. The leaves shifted just slightly, and she raised her foot and brought it down hard on the pile.
The skink shot out into the open. “What are you doing?”
“You bastard!” She stomped again.
The skink jumped aside, just in time.“If I hadn’t told him where you were, you’d have left! You’d have gone straight back to the river and flagged down the next boat going upstream.”
She lifted her foot again, pausing an instant to consider whether or not she could reach the skink where it was. “Yes, I would have.” She brought her foot down. It scuttled off to the side, where she could still see its brilliant blue tail, but couldn’t reach it. “You lied.”
“No!” piped the skink. “You never asked me what my association with Rilhat Imk might be!”
“What is your association with Rilhat Imk?” She stretched her leg out to a more comfortable angle, shifted her weight, and looked at the cushion still sitting beside her. She had no way to move it underneath her.
“Imk is the last male descendant of the kings of Gnarr, though how he discovered it I have no idea. Blind luck most likely! He’s just the sort of fool who thinks he’s secretly royal. There have been dozens of them over the years.” It ventured closer, but not anywhere within reach of her foot. “Now you see why I want that hand.”
“So he can be king of Gnarr?” The thought was appalling.
“One of the problems with inherited offices,” said the skink, “is that you’ve got to take whichever offspring you get. If you’re powerful enough, and vigilant, you can engineer things so they generally turn out well, but it’s still a gamble.”
“So he’s the king you’re stuck with. And he wants me, and you’re giving him what he wants.”
“No!” Its squeak was so loud that Umri looked quickly over to the lake to see if Imk had noticed. The raft was now in the middle of the lake, and only two men were on it. Imk stood on the shore, looking towards them. “I never intended to make him king. I meant to arrive here before him and have you dive for the hand and whatever gold you wanted. But the boat took too long!”
“The river…” Umri began.
“I have no power against her, not anymore.”
“Surely Imk would sacrifice to you if you asked him.”
“The bastard is always sacrificing to me,” the skink said. “Goats, horses, slaves. He’s poured blood out by the gallon, but it’s all got conditions and I can’t touch a drop of it!”
“Why not?”
“Look at me!” The skink nearly leapt straight into the air. “Do you know how I got this way? By making promises to that vacuous nitwit’s ancestors, that’s how!”
“You got this way by…” A cry interrupted her, and she turned to look at the lake again. All three slaves were on the raft, waving. “They found something.”