"Pitched battles in the streets?" Yanados murmured. "Have you heard anything of Zeren?"
"Battles, yes; Zeren, no." Omis shook his head. "He's most likely in the thick of the mess, and we stayed away from such whenever we could."
"We may never see him again—" Vari sobbed, then caught herself.
"He'll survive, if anyone can," Omis tried to reassure her. It didn't work, but everyone pretended it did.
"Well, so." Yanados tried to smile. "Did you make it to the river house?"
"Not even near to it," said Arizun. "Where there weren't rioters or mercenaries or press gangs, there were fires. We couldn't get through unseen, had to turn back."
"More fires?" Doshi went pale in the dim lamplight.
"More fires?" Omis jerked his head up. "Has anyone tried to—"
"Not here," Vari assured him quickly. "Just . . . down the street."
"How far down the street?"
"Three houses down. But you know how far that is, and it was put out soon, just a diversion, I think, while the rioters broke into the other side of the house to steal things."
"Good gods, fire!" Omis pressed his hands to his eyes. "They'll come here soon enough."
"Maybe not," Sulun tried. "By tomorrow, someone at court may settle the squabbling up there, restore order." But he couldn't believe it.
"Sulun," Omis reminded, dropping his hands on his lap, "what about Myggy's curse on this house?"
Sulun opened his mouth, shut it again, thought fast. "I think he'll have other things on his mind now, too much to bother with renewing his ill-wishing on us."
"But can you be sure of that?"
Sulun didn't say anything.
"We have to get out." Yanados finally said the words, firmly enough that no one would argue. "This very night, out. We'll go first to the river house, then down to the port."
"Why the port?" Sulun raised his head, frowning.
"Because . . ." Yanados let out a long breath. "Because that's where we'll find the Yanira. Her captain will take us . . . to Sakar."
Everyone stared at her dropping the veil over her secret at last. It was Doshi who had the desperation, or lack of tact, to say the words.
"He's . . . You're a Sakaran? One of the pirates?"
Yanados blinked, but otherwise didn't falter. "Yes. My father was a most successful pirate. He also knew enough of the ways of pirates that he didn't want his daughter married to one. He could have quietly bought me a respectable marriage to some respectable mainlander, but I didn't want that, and he . . . cared for me enough to listen. I had skills, wanted to use them, persuaded him that I could make my way on the mainland. He gave me the . . . supplies I needed and got me passage to Sabis."
"Where you disguised yourself as a boy and apprenticed yourself to old Abanuz," Sulun cut in, seeing the puzzle fall together.
"Yes." Yanados tossed him a fleeting smile. "I still kept some contact with my father's people, though. Imagine my joy at finding that one of them now works the Yanira."
"So you took him aside for a brief chat, and explained to him how useful our steam engines—and we—would be to Sakar."
Yanados shrugged eloquently, not taking her eyes off Sulun. "If—when Sabis falls to the Ancar, who will be left that could defy them?" she said.
"Gods," Sulun breathed, sagging under the weight of the vision. Sakar, the multi-island fortress in the middle of the world's heart, the Mormuz Sea: the only land safe from the land-devouring northern hordes, one place where civilization could survive, the one kingdom that could restore the sea trade—or attack any seaports the Ancar held. Irony of the gods! Civilization preserved, even restored, by a kingdom of pirates! "Why not?" Sulun found himself laughing. "The 'honest' folk of Sabis have served us poorly; perhaps pirates would do better."
"Two small stumbling blocks," said Arizun, stopping the laughter. "One: is the Yanira in port now?"
"I don't know," Yanados admitted, "But if she isn't tonight, tomorrow at latest—her captain's a far bigger fool than I believe. With everyone who can afford passage rushing across the straits, anyone with so much as a reed rowboat is growing rich on the ferrying trade. You can wager, the Yanira's captain wouldn't miss such opportunity."
"Surely not," Sulun laughed, a little light-headed. It occurred to him that such a captain, in Entori's employ at least part of the time, would be in an excellent position to know when and where valuable cargoes sailed—and to sell such knowledge to his Sakaran friends. "Heh! No wonder Entori's lost so many ships to the pirates." And Shibari too? a sudden thought sobered him. Had the loss that ruined his former patron been likewise arranged? If so then the failure of the Bombard Project, the very fall of Sabis, might be laid at the feet of Sakar.
"Two," Arizun went on implacably, "what makes you think we can get to the port?"
Yanados stared at him. "Why ever not?"
"Have you seen it lately?" Arizun glanced at Sulun and Omis. Omis looked away.
Once more, Sulun felt everyone's eyes on him and wondered how he'd ever got himself into this. "We got a quick look, from several streets away," he began. "It was . . . totally mad. Even at night, people crowding the docks, howling like mad things, fighting for a place on board a ship, any ship. Sailors had to beat them back to get room to unload, and then the City Guard had to beat them away from the unloaded grain!" Sulun shivered.
"There were people fighting everywhere, falling into the water," Omis added. "The ships were overloaded, small boats worse. We saw one turn over. . . ."
"The poor folk were begging for rides across the river," Arizun took up the tale. "Just to get west of the city, into the swamps, on rafts made of barrels and scrap-wood, some even swimming. I don't know how many drowned."
"How," Sulun finished, "would you get to the Yanira in the midst of that?"
Yanados thought a while, then shook her head. "I suppose it won't get any better, not with the Ancar coming, not tomorrow, not the day after. And how long could we hide out in the riverside workshop?"
"Maybe two days before the food ran out," said Omis. "We night fish on the river, could we get to clear water."
"Upstream," said Doshi. "If we stay on the river, travel only at light, we can get past the Ancar lines soon enough."
No one answered him, but everyone gave a soft, resigned sigh. That simply, it was decided.
"When?" was all Sulun asked.
"Give us some time to rest," Vari insisted. "A few hours, at least. And the streets should be emptier after midnight."
There was a general mumble of agreement. Nobody wanted to risk those perilous streets just yet. A few more questions determined that everything usable was already at the river house, or else already packed. They had only to take up their bundles and go.
Sulun was about to suggest that everyone find bed space and get some sleep while they could when they heard the first noise at the front door: the loud crack of a stone hitting the wood, and the echoes sounding through the house.
Everyone jumped, looked at each other, listened.
Another stone, heavier, and then the sound of voices and fists and feet, that low, growling, tearing sound they'd come to know too well. Cries and thudding footfalls sounded elsewhere in the house, and Entori's voice shouting in outrage and fear.
"The door?" Vari whispered, barely audible over the growing noise.
"Not long if they keep that up," Sulun decided, climbing to his feet. "We go. Now."