Lonal waddled expertly, as he had practiced endlessly in their room. Elenya matched his pace, walking gingerly herself. He noticed.
"What's wrong?" he whispered.
"I'm sore," she replied.
He chuckled. "Well, you should be."
In only two nights – and days, for that matter – Elenya had established a reputation among the garrison. Shigmur had made it apparent as early as possible that his slave was not simply a servant. The price for her went up several times, but the garrison didn't seem to mind. Most were posted to Xurosh for two-year indentures, and their opportunity to spend their wages was restricted. In any event, they received no complaints.
"Make it obvious," Lonal added. "It will amuse the guards."
"It amusesyou, you blasphemer," she accused.
They fell silent as they neared a small party of people walking the other way. The banter couldn't take the edge off their nervousness. The hope of the Zyraii nation revolved on the success of their actions within the next few minutes. All the rest had been preliminaries. They had to concentrate, he on his awkward gait, she on her tart's swagger. They were already in the shadow of the keep's broad portal.
Elenya realized she was squeezing the handle of the bucket in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were white. She relaxed her fist, swinging the container indolently at her side.
The eyes of the sentries by the well, not to mention others patrolling the tops of the battlements, were drawn to her body like flies to dung. She smiled broadly. Soon they had reached their destination.
"Quite a walk for the lady," one of the guards said cordially. Elenya recognized him. She had entertained neither him nor his companion, but she had seen them in the company of one of her earliest customers, laughing in a wineshop and glancing in her direction. They knew who she was – and did not suspect she was a threat to them.
For an instant she forgot every word of Azuraji she knew. When she did reply, she barely kept the tremor out of her voice. "My mistress is a plains woman. They can give birth and be riding a oeikani an hour later."
As she spoke, Lonal reached the rim of the well, which stood about three feet higher than the paving stones, and peered down, as if trying to discern the water in spite of the darkness, aloof from the conversation. The guards ignored him. They knew that Shol women did not speak directly to men outside their family. They much preferred to watch Elenya. Perhaps they took note of how the pregnant woman had settled her distended belly on the well's rim, but only assumed she was seeking relief from the constant weight.
Elenya noisily dropped the catch bucket into the well. The rope unwound, the spindle twirling in its metal sockets with a clatter. A splash reverberated from below. As she operated the crank, she kept up a ceaseless banter.
"My mistress thought the fresh well water would do her good," she said. "You would not believe what we have had to drink on the journey. There isn't a drop of decent water between Surudain and Xurosh, and coffees and wines are hard on a woman with child. Are either of you fathers?"
They hesitated. Both said no. She could tell at least one of them was lying. She caught them staring downward and fingered her necklace. The jewel rested precisely halfway between her nipples. "Do you see what my master gave me? He said his beauty should have something beautiful to show off. Do you like it?"
She held up the green stone, exerting a silent command to make it sparkle. The guards watched it – or the area near where it swayed – with unabashed scrutiny. They hardly paid attention to the words she uttered, not particularly caring how badly she mangled their language or how trivial her subject matter seemed to be.
Nor did they notice the faint hiss of powder dropping into the well from an open seam in the front of the pregnant woman's clothing.
In due course, the bucket reached the top of the well. Elenya transferred the water into her own container, which she set on her shoulder, a statuesque pose. Her mistress stepped away from the rim. As they walked off, the guards were treated to a broad smile, and hungrily watched as the night and distance obscured her figure. If there was any sign that the veiled wife's burden was less heavy, the men failed to notice.
They heard a merry laugh from the center of the bridge.
"A cheerful strumpet, isn't she?" said one of them.
XXXV
SHORTLY AFTER DAWN,the horns sounded at Xurosh.
Elenya watched the sentries suddenly burst into activity. No one took the time to wonder what the Shol slave girl was doing on the battlements. They were preoccupied by the sight beyond the walls.
A band of Zyraii had rounded the last bend and were waiting in the roadway, calmly regarding the fortress.
As the echoes of the horn faded, bodies came pouring out of the barracks, both in the southern keep and the northern fortress. The commander of the garrison appeared from the brothel doorway. And a strange thing happened.
The commander was walking very slowly, barely able to get each foot in front of the other in time to stay upright. His arms, busy putting on a leather armor vest, stiffened and would not complete their chore. Eight paces from the building, he stopped altogether. A pair of prostitutes watched from the doorway, terror on their faces.
"Sorcery!" screamed voices from the bridge. In the barracks, over a dozen men could not rise from their beds, though they breathed and some had opened their eyes. Many of those who did rouse were afflicted like the commander, moving strictly in slow motion – able to speak, fully awake, but without control over their own bodies.
Elenya sighed in relief. It had been an uncertain thing, determining how much the well would dilute the poison. If too strong, the men would have been instantly stricken, and blame would have fallen on the water they had just consumed. Too weak, and the Mother's Breath would have made the soldiers sluggish, but far from incapacitated. The proper range had been achieved – the tainted water had its effect hours after the drinking, and, though it hadn't frozen all of the victims, it had rendered a large number useless. Given time, the heat of the day, and freedom from suspicion of the well water, most of the fortress would succumb.
"What are you doing up here?"
Elenya jumped. The vice-commander of the garrison was standing behind her, obviously displeased. She almost slipped into a martial stance before she controlled her surprise and remembered to look frightened, as a slave girl would. The question had been rhetorical. The man rushed past her with hardly a second glance, joining his lookouts farther down the battlements.
She sighed in relief, and decided to return to the inn. There was no sense in directing more attention to herself.
The vice-commander's name was Falol, she had learned. He was a great, hulking mercenary from Calinin South, a career soldier with a sharp mind. He had always maintained a clear head even in the tavern, with several ales in him. Elenya didn't like it that he was still unaffected. Falol seemed more, not less, capable than the commander. She stalled at the top of the stone steps that led to the courtyard. She was just able to hear Falol talking with his subordinates.
"What are they doing, just sitting there like that?" one of the sentries said. "What are they trying to prove?"
"It's a small party. We could easily take them," said another.
"We will stay in the fortress," Falol said emphatically. "As far as I'm concerned, they can sit there until their scrotums wilt."
"But why are they showing themselves?"
Falol turned back toward the inner community. "Where the devil is Yllam? I sent for – "
Elenya sensed someone coming up the stairs at her back. It was an elderly man in a full-length azure cape, long white hair to his waist behind, long grey beard to the same level in front. As he brushed past her, she momentarily caught the lunaticlike brightness of his pupils.