The huntresses became suspicious soon after they left the cloister. "Marika," Grauel said after a whispered consultation with Barlog, "we are being followed. By huntresses from the cloister."
Marika was not pleased, but neither was she surprised. A silth had been set upon by rogue males not a week before her return from the upper Ponath. "It's all right," she said. "They're looking out for us."
Grauel nodded to herself. She told Barlog, "The most senior protecting her investment."
"We'll be watched wherever we go," Marika said. "We have a friend."
"One is more than we did have."
"Does that tell me something?"
"Did you know that we were not supposed to come back from the Ponath?"
"We weren't?" The notion startled Marika.
"The story was whispering around the barracks here. We were sent out to build that blockhouse behind the most senior's back. We were not supposed to get out of it alive. That is why Paustch was demoted. It was an attempt to kill us."
Barlog added, "The senior councillors here are afraid of you, Marika."
"We survived."
Grauel said, "It is also whispered that nomad prisoners confessed that our blockhouse wasn't attacked once they found out who the keeper was. You have gained a reputation among the savages."
"How? I don't know any of them. How could they know me?"
"You slew the Serke silth at Akard. That has been bruited about all the Communities, they say. The one who died had a great name in her order, though the Serke aren't naming it. That would mean admitting they were poaching on the Ponath."
"I love this hypocrisy," Marika said. "Everyone knows what the Serke are doing, and no one will admit it. We must learn the rules of this game. We might want to play it someday."
"Marika?"
Grauel's tone warned Marika that she had come too far out of her role. "We have to play the silth game the way it is played here if we are to survive here, Grauel. Not so?" She spoke in the formal mode.
"I suppose. Still ... "
Barlog said, "We hear talk about the most senior sending you to TelleRai soon, Marika. Because that is where they teach those who are expected to rise high. Is this true? Will we be going?" Barlog, too, shifted to the formal mode.
Marika shifted back. "I don't know anything about it, Barlog. Nothing's been said to me. I don't think there's anything to it. But I will not be going anywhere without you two. Could I survive without touch with my pack?"
How could she survive without the only meth she had any reason to trust? Not that she trusted even them completely. She still suspected they reported on her to curry favor, but to do that they had to stay close and remain useful.
"Thank you, Marika," Barlog said.
"Here we are. Do not hesitate to admonish me if I fail to comport myself properly." Marika glanced back. "Any sign of our shadows?" She could have gone down through her loophole and looked, but did not care enough.
"None, Marika."
"Good." She touched the fence lightly, examined the aircraft upon the field. Today the airstrip was almost naked. One small freight dirigible lay in one of the cradles. Two Stings sat near the fence. There were a couple of light craft of a type with which she was unfamiliar. Their design implied them to be reconnaisance or courier ships.
She went to the desk in the gateway building. The same guard watched the same vision screen in the same state of sleepy indifference. He did not notice her. She wondered if his hearing and sense of smell were impaired, or if he just enjoyed being rude to meth from the street. She rapped on the desk.
He turned. He recognized her and his eyes widened. He sat up.
"I would like to speak to Assistant Security Chief Bagnel," Marika told him.
He gulped air, looked around as if seeking a place to hide, then gobbled, "Yes, mistress." He hurried around the end of his desk, down the hallway leading to the airfield. Halfway along he paused to say, "You stay here, mistress." He made a mollifying gesture. "Just wait. I will hurry him all I can."
Marika's ears tilted in amusement.
The guard turned again at the far door, called back, "Mistress, Bagnel is no longer assistant chief. He was made chief a few months ago. Just so you do not use the wrong mode of address."
"Thank you." Wrong mode of address? What difference? Unless it was something the nervous guard had let carry over from the mysteries of the tradermale brethren.
She supposed she ought to examine the relevant data-what was known-if she was going to be dealing with Bagnel regularly.
Time enough for that later. After today's encounter had shown its promise, or lack thereof. "Grauel, go down the hall and keep watch. Barlog, check the building here, then watch the street." She stepped around the desk and began leafing through the guard's papers. She found nothing interesting, if only because they were printed in what had to be a private male language. She opened the desk's several drawers. Again she found nothing of any interest.
Well, it had been worth a look. Just in case. She rounded the desk again, recalled Grauel and Barlog. To their inquisitive looks she replied, "I was just curious. There wasn't anything there."
The guard took another five minutes. He returned to find them just as he had left them. "Kentan Bagnel will be here shortly, mistress. Can I make your wait more comfortable somehow? Would you care for refreshments?"
"Not for myself, thank you. Barlog? Grauel?"
Each replied, "No, mistress," and Marika was pleased with their restraint. In years past they would have chastised any male this bold.
"You called Bagnel Kentan. Is that a title or name?"
The guard was fuddled for a moment. Then he brightened. "A title, mistress. It denotes his standing with the brethren."
"It has nothing to do with his job?"
"No, mistress. Not directly."
"I see. Where does a kentan stand with regard to others? How high?"
The guard looked unhappy. He did not want to answer, yet felt he had to conform to orders to deal with her hospitably.
"It must be fairly high. You are nervous about him. The year has treated Bagnel well, then."
"Yes, mistress. His rise has been ... "
"Rapid?"
"Yes, mistress. We all thought your last visit would cause him grave embarrassment, but ... "
Marika turned away to conceal her features. A photograph graced the wall opposite the desk. It had been enlarged till it was so grainy it was difficult to recognize. "What is this place?"
Relieved, the guard came around his desk and began explaining, "That is the brethren landhold at TelleRai, mistress."
"Yes. Of course. I have never seen it from this angle."
"Marika?"
She turned. Bagnel had arrived. He looked sleek and self-confident and just a bit excited. "Bagnel. As you see, I'm behaving myself this time." She used the informal mode without realizing it. Grauel and Barlog gave her looks she did not see.
"You've grown." Bagnel responded in the same mode. His usage was as unconscious as Marika's.
Grauel and Barlog bared teeth and exchanged glances.
"Yes. Also grown up. I spent the summer in the Ponath, battling the nomad. I believe it changed me."
Bagnel glanced at the guard. "You've been grilling Norgis. You've made him very uncomfortable."
"We were talking about the picture of the Tovand, kentan," the guard said.
Bagnel scowled. The guard retreated behind the barrier of his desk. He increased the volume of the sound accompanying the display on his screen. Marika was amused, but concealed it.
"Well," Bagnel said. "You're here again."
Grauel and Barlog frowned at his use of the familiar mode.
"I hoped I could look inside the aircraft this time. Under supervision, of course. Nothing secret seems to be going on now. The fighting ships and the big dirigibles are gone."