Torvik had indeed been thinking since before dawn, but about only one thing, and that was not his sister's promotion. The message had been inscribed with a rock on a large fluted trumpet shell that he had found on his cabin deck in the pale gray of early morning. He had memorized it before the change of watch, and had not dared leave it lying about, so he had it in his belt pouch now. He silently pulled it out and as silently handed it to Chuina. She turned it over and over in her hand several times, then took a while to read the message. Torvik wondered if she doubted her eyes, needed to know the rest of the story, or could not make out Mirraleen's writing. The Dimernesti's talents did not include a fine, fair hand.
Without waiting for the question, Torvik told his sister the full tale. She listened in silence, holding the shell, then asked only: "Is this a trap, do you think?"
It was a question on which Torvik had pondered much without finding an answer. He spoke what he believed to be the truth. "There may be a trap along the course I take to her, but I do not think it will be she who sets it."
"Have you lain with her?"
This time Torvik was ready for his sister's frankness. "No, and not because I have not thought of it," he told her. "In elven guise she is very fair, although rather taller than I."
"That was not idle curiosity," Chuina persisted. "If rumor got about that you had-"
"I know what rumor will say," he cut her off, "and what those who listen might do. I am unclean, have lost my virtue to a lesser breed, and on and on like that to no purpose. Would you have me afraid of small-minded rattle-jaws and arrant witlings?"
"No, but you cannot keep me from being afraid for you." She licked her lips and said, "Could I come with you, to guard your back and summon help if a trap does spring?"
Torvik pondered again, then shook his head. "Mirraleen would suspect betrayal. She would also suspect it if I did not come, and consider what she offers."
"A way into the mage's stronghold, outflanking all his magic and monsters," Chuina said. "Yes. That is precious, if only to keep common folly from setting men and minotaurs at odds to no purpose."
"Then we agree, and you can help. Stay at your party, be seen by everybody, and hide as best you can the fact that I am gone. Lady Haimya doubtless thought she was doing us a service with that purse-"
"I saw you eat five helpings of the clams pickled in onion juice," Chuina joked. "You're a fine one to talk!"
"-but she made sure that both of us would be much sought-after. So you have to do the work of both of us," he finished.
"Well and good. I've always wanted to dance on the capstan."
"Dance on the capstan or the bowsprit. Dance in armor or starlight. Dance where and how you please, but keep everyone ignorant that your brother Torvik is-"
He broke off. From seaward, the breeze had carried to his ears the barking of sea otters.
Zeskuk hurried to Cleaver's aftercastle, and the crew made way for him without turning their eyes from the sea.
He followed where they were pointing and saw at least twenty, perhaps twice that, sea otters swimming rapidly eastward. They were staying just out of harpoon range of the ships, and Zeskuk sent a message to hail the few boats in the water, reminding them against any otter hunting.
He had warned the fleet on the matter after Torvik's tale reached him, but there were always fools who forgot the taste of the first drink by the time they ordered the fourth. He did not want to have to clap too many minotaurs in irons for the rest of the voyage, especially not any of Thenvor's folk.
Moreover, he was sure of one thing: If Torvik had any secrets the minotaurs needed to know, their killing sea otters would close the young human captain's mouth as thoroughly as if he were dead.
The sea otters swam out of sight and out to sea as the swift darkness of a tropical night came down on Suivinari Island.
Chapter 14
The humans had not only put the tent in a clearing deep in the forest, they had tied down the edges all around it, except for the front, which was guarded. So Horimpsot Elderdrake went in from the back of the tent, using a sharp knife. He did not cut the canvas because it was tough and this was his best knife. Also, the cut would show. Instead, he cut the ropes and vines tying down the edge of the tent, then lifted the canvas and crawled in. If he could get out again before anyone came by, he would pull the canvas, ropes, and vines back into place. Then nobody would see anything until daylight, when he would be far away.
The opening in the front of the tent let in enough light for Elderdrake to see that the guard was on duty but did not have his mind on it. He and a local farm girl seemed to be much more interested in each other than the guard was in watching the tent.
So Elderdrake could wander around the tent the way he sometimes wandered around a potter's shop in town, at least until the potter saw him and chased him out. He found every kind of horse gear, including saddles, bridles, and even some horse armor. There were helmets and breastplates for more men than the kender wanted to think about, also swords, knives, waterskins, boots, belts, and bandages. He found crates of hard bread, salted meat, and dried fruit, barrels of wine and ale, and even a few bottles of dwarf spirits.
Whoever had put all this here was obviously putting together a private army. Elderdrake could recognize the House Dirivan marking, and saw it on the crates and barrels. But why put the supplies here when the men were somewhere else?
Down here to the south of Tirabot, there were fewer eyes to see. If they saw the supplies with no men about-well, crates and barrels without men didn't make an army. If they saw the men coming, unarmed and walking, that also would not look like an army. Only when the men reached the tent would Tirabot Manor's enemies have an army. By then it would be too late for the manor.
Quite ingenious, for humans. In fact, Elderdrake was growing more impressed by the ingenuity of humans every day. Not their judgment-they were using all this ingenuity in a cause that no kender would have thought worth a cup of the cheapest wine-but their ingenuity.
A kender can be noisier than a dozen minotaurs or more silent than falling snow. Elderdrake was the latter, as he slipped out of the tent, covered his tracks, and hurried off to warn his friends.
Torvik had taken the smallest boat from those tied up around Red Elf. It was still intended for two pairs of oars, and muffling the one pair he was using made it slower still.
The only other choices would have been company, when he'd rejected even his sister's, or swimming. The second course didn't risk betraying Mirraleen so much as it risked his not reaching her at all. She had assured him that Wilthur's Creation would not strike near the fleet, but there was plenty of empty water between the fleet and where he was to meet her.
Also, Wilthur's pet might not be the only thing with a taste for human flesh swimming around in these dark waters. Sharks, giant eels, nagas, and dwarf kraken could all have appeared by now, drawn by curiosity about the noise the offal regularly flung into the water by the sailors.
The oars made only the faintest of thumps as the boat slipped across the smooth water. From time to time Torvik halted to tighten the sweat band that kept his eyes clear and to look over his shoulder for the landmarks.
Mirraleen had given him marks to steer by, whether the night was dark or clear. Tonight it was clear, but Nuitari was the highest of the moons, with Solinari only a faint glow from behind the Smoker. He had more light from a vent on the Smoker's flank, which every few minutes glowed yellow. By the yellow glow, he could see ash, steam, and hot gas spewing into the air.