"And set indeed," Sulun murmured, watching her. "Do you care nothing for these things? Would you wish to live in a city while it is sacked by the Ancar?"
Eloti paced on, implacable. "When life becomes insupportable, there is always the quick knife, the quiet poison." An ironic smile touched her lips, ever so faintly. "We all die. What changes?"
"Lady, given the chance, I could change this!"
Eloti stopped in midstep. "You?" A slight but distinct tone of interest tinged her voice.
"Yes, I could," Sulun gulped. "I know the means to make a weapon that could defeat the Ancar. Given the equipment to make it, the space to test it, I and my friends could make this weapon within . . . um, one moon's time. My Lord your brother, unfortunately, won't hear of this. He wants his ship engines, and will spare no coppers for anything else."
"Ah, so you come to me." Eloti resumed her pacing, a definite smile on her face now. "You want money."
"Yes, Lady," Sulun answered, unashamed. "Enough to pay the rent on our workshop by the river. Enough to buy the flux for Omis's iron. Enough to purchase the saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal for the powder. Enough for the leather canisters of shot. Not cheap, Lady, I admit—but less costly than the quick knife or the quiet poison, I daresay."
Eloti actually laughed, a low and quiet sound. "You intrigue me, sir, I admit. Yet I've seen that you're honest enough."
"I've no time for anything less, not knowing what I know. I've no wish to endure the fall of the city."
"Nor I, actually." She glanced once at the silver moon. "I've wagered before, the gods know, and for poorer stakes. I shall give you my answer tomorrow."
"Thank you, Lady."
"You may g—Htcha!" she sneezed.
Sulun, already backing away, suddenly remembered where he'd heard that exact sneeze before. He turned and hurried off through the archway, mind rolling with possibilities.
In the morning, after a mercifully brief report of purchases to the master of the house, Sulun chivvied his crew to work with a ferocity that was rare for him. They assembled a small procession of carts and went down to the smeltery to fetch Omis's iron and Sulun's brass, headed home by the emptiest road, and managed to get the whole shipment into the courtyard by lunchtime. Vari was waiting for them there, holding something wrapped in a napkin, looking thoughtful.
"Here." She handed Sulun the bundle. "Mistress came up to me while I was at the scrubbing, handed this to me as quiet as you please, says to bring it to you quietly, and adds that she'll want an accounting later. I haven't dared look. Sulun, what have you gone and done?"
Sulun said nothing until he'd unwrapped the napkin, opened the small drawstring bag he found there, and looked inside. Sunlight caught on the edges of wide gold coins. He stared blankly for a moment, then pulled the bag shut and stuffed it quickly into his robe.
"I've managed to persuade the Mistress," he said, feeling the smile stretch across his face. "How soon can we have those carts ready to go again?"
"An hour! An hour!" Doshi wailed. "Let the poor beasts have their meal—and us, too."
"An hour, then," Sulun agreed, "But no more."
The afternoon passed in purchases of odd minerals and tallows and odd cuts of leather, plus a side trip by Arizun and Yanados to pay the rent on the riverside shop. On all but the latter, Sulun dickered fast and furiously, and kept careful track of the money spent. Not so much as a copper piece went to anything outside the Bombard Project, though Sulun did yield to pressure from Arizun and Doshi and bought some cut-rate sheets of parchment for diagrams. They came dragging the carts home barely in time to unload, no time to wash and dress before supper. They looked a tired and well-worked group at the table, and more than once Sulun caught Mistress Eloti giving him and his crew appraising looks. She must guess, he considered, that they were giving her full value for her money.
After-dinner conversation at the servants' table was unduly full of comments on their industry and devotion to their tasks. Aobi went so far as to growl at them: "Don't work so blazing hard, you lads; you'll make us all look lazy, and the old goat will take it out of our hides."
"It'll go slow after this," Omis predicted, thinking of the days of forging and hammering ahead of him.
"Entirely too slow," Sulun muttered, imaging the gods' hourglass hanging, invisible, over Sabis.
Vari and the apprentices exchanged worried glances, and excused themselves early from the party.
CHAPTER TEN
"Enough of that." Entori cut off Sulun's droning report of items bought and progress made, shuffled through a teetering pile of waxed tablets, pulled one out, and shoved it across the desk. "The fifty-tonner Yanira sits at fourth dock south, unloading this morning. Here are the directions." He handed over a scrap of folded and sealed parchment as well. "Here is my note to the captain. Take as many of your . . . scholars as you need, and go make your measurements."
"I beg pardon?" Sulun fumbled, caught off balance by the change of subject.
"The ship you wanted," Entori snapped, impatient. "Go measure it for your engine. Its docked and idle for the day."
"Oh. Yes, of course. Today."
"You have until evening, when she'll be loading again. I trust the time will be sufficient."
"Er, yes, Master. It should be." Sulun ran his eyes once more over the wall behind Entori, wondering where the spy hole was and if it was occupied.
"Then go to it, and don't waste time. Next!" Entori rang the small bell on his desk and turned his attention back to his pile of parchments.
Sulun backed away, bowed, turned, and went out, almost colliding with the three house guards on their way in. He hurried back to the workshop-courtyard, wondering when, if ever, he'd have time to explore the house thoroughly and discover just where the spy hole was hidden. Not that it really mattered; the lady was his ally, for the moment at least.
Omis already had the forge lit and working, with Doshi pumping the bellows and Ziya shovelling in the woods. "Gods!" he wailed at the news. "I can't go now! I'm about to start the first heat, and the forge is nearly ready."
"And no doubt you'll need Doshi and Ziya," Sulun added. "Don't trouble yourself, then. I'll take the others. Where are they?"
"Back courtyard, hitching up the donkey cart. They've already heard the news."
"What? How?"
"By being earlier in the morning line than you, lay-a-bed." Omis grinned without looking up. "Ziya, hand me that first iron billet."
Sulun shook his head, and went off to fetch his measuring tapes.
A sea gull creaked and wheeled overhead, throwing its shadow across the deck. Sulun eyed it warily; he'd been splattered once already by the pesky birds, much to the amusement of the two sailors idly guarding the ship.
"Twenty cubits, two spans," Arizun duly reported from the other end of the tape.
Sulun scribbled the figures on his tablet, and took his foot off the near end of the tape. "Roll it up," he said, searching down the column of notes to see if any were left unfilled. None were. "I believe we've finished."
Arizun and Yanados gave sparse cheers and began stuffing the tapes and instruments back into their basket. Sulun stuffed the tablet in his bag beside the others, tried once more to pinch the pervasive stink of tar and rotting fish out of his nose, and headed gratefully for the gangplank. The others caught up to him at the donkey cart.
"It isn't going to work," Yanados whispered in his ear.