Dänvârfij glanced warily about the room at each of those with her. Fréthfâre merely watched her with the barest trace of a smile.
This was close to open revolt, and it left Dänvârfij uncertain, but she could not give in. If she did so even this once, all semblance of order would be lost, and Fréthfâre would lead them all to their deaths in nothing but vengeance.
Hoping for a moment to recover control here, Dänvârfij turned her own glare upon Rhysís. “And what are your thoughts?”
Rhysís remained silent at first. He was deeply loyal to Most Aged Father, as they all were, and everyone knew it, but he was also more practical—dutiful—even with his own motivations for revenge against the traitorous greimasg’äh.
“I think,” he finally began, “that Én’nish is partially correct. Additional perspectives might provide Father more to consider, but not because your reports are lacking. In my travels, I, too, am brief in my reports.”
“So you think Most Aged Father’s counsel is wrong?” Dänvârfij challenged.
“Yes!” Fréthfâre answered for him. “We take our quarry here!”
Dänvârfij was not accustomed to anything so near hysteria and did not know how to respond. But when she looked into Rhysís’s eyes, there was no defiance—only the faintest hint of pleading. He knew—could see—that what remained of the team was becoming unstable. When he looked to Fréthfâre, Dänvârfij let him speak.
“I suggest we plan to follow Father’s counsel,” Rhysís said, “but we prepare for opportunities here. This city is too large to search with so few of us, but Dänvârfij and I can watch the waterfront for our quarry. Sooner or later they will go there. If we see a way to finish our purpose here before we must leave, then we take it. Father would so advise if a clear opportunity presented itself.”
Rhysís’s words were sound and sensible—and loyal to Most Aged Father.
Én’nish watched for a moment. Her eyes barely shifted to Dänvârfij before she lowered them with a sneer. Even Fréthfâre said nothing, though Dänvârfij was not foolish enough to take that as agreement.
No, the ex-Covârleasa and the grief-sickened Én’nish hesitated only because Rhysís was unwilling to side with them. Dänvârfij’s relief was limited, though she kept her expression impassive regardless of the tension in the room.
“This seems wise,” she said.
With a nod to Rhysís, Dänvârfij turned to Fréthfâre. She remained outwardly unaffected, as if this were a normal discussion of strategy ... and Fréthfâre had not been on the brink of rebelling.
“Do you concur?” she asked.
Fréthfâre straightened in her chair, which must have caused her pain. “Yes,” she answered, “so long as you actively seek any opportunity to kill the traitor and take our quarry here.”
Dänvârfij nodded. “Of course.”
Feigning calm, she was well aware how close she had come to losing control of her remaining team. Rhysís had supported her this time ... but for how long? In her thoughts she recounted all that Most Aged Father had related to her. An idea began forming in the back of her mind as she mentally pictured the inn to which she had trailed the two Shé’ith.
She turned to Rhysís. “You and I will watch the harbor,” she said, “but at nightfall I have another task to complete.”
Chapter Seven
The following morning Chap suffered through another coating of charcoal dust. He choked back a growl as Leesil tied up his snout and bound his ears with those straps. Wayfarer put on her disguise as Brot’an stepped to the window, ready to slip out and head across the rooftops. But when it came time for Wayfarer to slip the rope’s loop over Chap’s head, she stalled and handed the rope to Leesil to do so.
Chap had not spoken to Wayfarer as yet about their strange moment on the waterfront. And he was uncertain whether he ever should.
He had been thinking upon a past incident, the last time they—he and Leesil—had faced down any of the anmaglâhk who had harried them all the way from Calm Seatt. And Wayfarer had jerked away from him, asking: Did Léshil kill ... one of the caste ... ?
No one had told the girl about that. Leesil didn’t even want to tell Magiere, and Chap had agreed. So what had prompted that question from Wayfarer as she sat on the walkway, staring at him in fear?
He was uncertain how to even ask her about this, so he did not.
—Ready?—
She nodded, though she didn’t look at him.
This room they all shared was beginning to feel like a prison cell, and the tension was thick. True to his word, Leesil had gone out the night before and returned very late ... with more than enough coin to pay the exorbitant fee demanded by the captain of the Djinn.
Magiere had paced most of the night, and when Leesil had returned, instead of expressing relief at his success and safety, she’d barely spoken to him. Chap understood this.
Leesil was a good cardplayer, though not as good as he thought, and when pressed, he had no compunction against cheating. Occasionally he got caught. Worse, the more he played, the more he wanted to play.
Magiere was not wrong in her concerns, but Leesil had not been wrong that such a tactic was their only option. Brot’an could not be allowed to gain the money his way.
Inside the tense room, it now seemed that questions by anyone for anyone else had become something to be avoided.
Wayfarer picked up her gnarled walking stick, and Leesil handed her a pouch.
“Tuck this inside your cloak,” he instructed. “I’ve put exactly forty-five silver pennies in there.” He glanced at Chap. “You stay close to her.”
Not dignifying such a comment with an answer, Chap bit back another snarl.
From the window, Brot’an watched all this in silence and then added to Wayfarer, “I will be watching. If you find yourselves in danger, run for the cutway between the harbormaster’s office and the nearest warehouse.”
“Yes, Greimasg’äh,” Wayfarer answered, and as she turned for the door, Chap followed her.
Once they were outside in the morning air, the girl took a deep breath, as if she was relieved to be out of that room. In the not-so-distant past, she’d had to be pried out into the streets of any human city.
She looked toward where the waterfront lay beyond sight. “I did not like the captain of that Suman vessel.”
—Agreed—
These were the first real words they’d exchanged since returning the previous day.
Chap hadn’t cared for Captain Amjad, either, but Leesil had done his part, and now they must do theirs. Leaning down on her gnarled cane, Wayfarer pulled her hood forward to shadow her face and once again shuffled along in the stooped manner of an old woman ... with a muzzled and huge black dog beside her.
They never paused until they reached the fourth pier and stood near the ramp up to the Djinn as cargo was being loaded. The whole vessel was crawling with activity, and Chap could see that Wayfarer was frightened by the sailors rushing past in their hurried labors.
—We only need to ... locate the captain ... and pay him—
Calming slightly, the girl followed as he headed up the ramp and looked around for the captain. A young sailor with curling hair black spotted them and walked over, flashing a set of even teeth as he smiled.
“Hello again,” he said with a heavy accent. “Did your friend find you yesterday?”
Chap’s ears would have stiffened upright if they could.
“My friend?” Wayfarer asked.
“Yes, she came shortly after you left—tall woman who looked a little like you.” His smile widened. “Not such a pretty face, though.”