When the ship was secure, the slaves lowered a smaller row-boat down to the water. Dannyl, Tayend and Achati thanked the captain, then climbed down a rope ladder into it. Once on shore, they waited for the slaves to return to the ship for their travel trunks and followed as they carried these into Haniva.
The town had no streets, just trails kept clear by the passing of feet, and the houses appeared to be randomly placed – often in groups connected by narrow walkways. Floods were obviously not expected for some time, Dannyl guessed from the crops growing around the houses. These were planted in a way that allowed room for the enormous trees, from which fruit hung in bunches. Each was a single smooth trunk topped with either an umbrella-like mass of branches, or an explosion of huge leaves. Tall spikes shooting from the ground puzzled Dannyl at first, until he saw a few larger ones sprouting leaves, and realised they were the sapling versions of the trees, throwing all their energy into growing tall enough to escape flood waters before putting out foliage.
As they passed people walking in the field, he noticed that their skin and build was somewhere between the stocky brown typical of Sachakans and the grey slim build of the tribesmen. He assumed there had been some interbreeding of the races over the centuries. Settling in towns was not the usual habit of the Duna tribes, from what Dannyl had read or been told. They were a nomadic people.
Perhaps these people could be considered another race, he thought. Maybe called “Naguhs” or “Hanivans”.
After they had passed a few dozen houses, the slaves headed toward a group of buildings standing alone in a field. It was immediately obvious that these were different, despite being constructed of the same building materials and raised on stilts. Their arrangement was symmetrical, with one house in the centre three times the size of the local homes, and smaller buildings arranged around the sides and rear, all accessed by a walkway. A single wide stairway led up to the central house, and the path that led to it was straight. As the slaves reached it they stopped and waited for Achati, Dannyl and Tayend to climb up ahead of them.
Climbing the stairs changed not only the view of the town, but the way Dannyl viewed it. He could see more houses, and the people in them, as well as the workers in the fields. Suddenly Haniva felt far more populated and town-like.
A house slave emerged and threw himself face down on the wooden deck at the top of the stairs.
“Take me to Ashaki Vakachi, or whoever speaks for him when he is absent,” Achati ordered.
The man leapt to his feet and led them inside. The inner walls had been painted white and led down a corridor to a large room. Like a typical Sachakan home, except the walls are straight. In the Master’s Room, a man stood waiting for them. His skin had a hint of dusky grey to it, and his shoulders were narrow, hinting at a touch of Duna in his blood.
“Welcome, Ashaki Achati,” the man said, then as Achati thanked him he turned to his two companions. “And you must be Ambassadors Dannyl and Tayend.”
“We are,” Dannyl replied. “And we are honoured to be staying with you.”
The man invited them to sit. “I have arranged for a light meal to be served, then you each will be taken to your own obin – one of the detached houses you no doubt noticed on your arrival. They are a local idea, usually added for the use of a son after he is married, or an elderly relative after the son inherits the house, but also to keep an eye on unmarried young men and women.”
“Is this a Duna tradition?” Tayend asked.
Vakachi shrugged. “It is and it isn’t. The tribe of Naguh Valley have their own traditions, different to the rest of the Duna. Though they are a settled tribe, and more civilised than their cousins, they are regarded as inferiors and pay tribute to those of the escarpment.”
“Is it possible that any of them are Keepers of the Lore?” Dannyl asked.
Vakachi spread his hands. “I couldn’t say for sure. Since the Keepers remain hidden by living ordinary lives and saying nothing of their status, there could be some here but nobody knows it.” He smiled. “No, your best chance to meet one is to climb up to the escarpment and seek one among the full blood tribes. Not that your chances are good even then. The Duna have a unique and effective habit of being uncooperative.”
“So I have heard, and read,” Dannyl said.
Vakachi nodded. “Still, it’s possible a foreigner will have greater luck than a Sachakan. I have arranged transportation to the escarpment for you all, setting out tomorrow. It will take a few days. In the meantime,” he gestured to the slaves filing into the room, “eat, rest and be welcome.”
CHAPTER 23
GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS
As Sonea entered the treatment room, Dorrien looked closely at her and frowned.
“You look pale,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she told him as she sat down.
“How long has it been since you saw sunlight?”
Sonea considered. She’d been working the night shift for some weeks now, only taking time off to meet with Cery. The morning after the failed attempt to catch Skellin had been the last time she’d seen sunlight, though surely—
“If it’s been so long you have to think about it this much, it’s been too long,” Dorrien told her sternly.
Sonea shrugged. “The short winter days mean it’s dark when I leave the Guild.”
“If you wait until the days get longer, you might not see the sun for weeks.” He crossed his arms. “You’re like some sort of creepy nocturnal creature, and the impression isn’t helped by the black robes and black magic.”
She smiled. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”
He chuckled. “Not one bit. But I’d hesitate to invite you over to dinner. You might scare the girls.”
“Hmm … it’s probably my turn to host a dinner.”
“You don’t have to take a turn,” he told her. “You’ve got too many other things on your mind. Have you heard from Cery lately?”
She shook her head. “Just a few cryptic messages. He believes Lorandra will have joined Skellin by now.”
“How is Kallen’s search for Lilia and Naki going?”
“He and his assistants have printed out flyers with drawings and descriptions of the girls, and hired people to hand them out around the city. A few have reported seeing one or both of the girls, but none of the sightings has led him to either of them.”
“People have seen Naki? At least that means she’s alive.”
“If the girl they saw was Naki. Still, the Guard hasn’t found any bodies of young women that look like her.”
Dorrien looked thoughtful. “We should put some of those flyers up in the hospices.”
Sonea nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“I’ll send a messenger to Kallen before I leave. Pity we didn’t get a picture drawn of Lorandra before she escaped.”
“Her appearance is much more distinctive than the girls’, and so is Skellin’s, but the descriptions we put out of those two haven’t attracted any reports of sightings.”
“No, I suppose—”
A knock at the door interrupted him. Sonea turned in time to see it swing open. Healer Gejen nodded to her politely.
“Black Magician Sonea,” he said politely, before turning to Dorrien. “Your wife is here to see you, Lord Dorrien.”
“Tell her I’ll be out as soon as I’ve finished briefing Sonea,” Dorrien replied.
As the door closed, Dorrien sighed. “I was wondering how long it would take before she gathered the courage to check on me here.”
“Check on you?”