He waited for her reply. She did not reply but stood rigidly stiff, her expression slightly disgusted as if the ship-smell of ripe sea creatures and salt offended her mountain nose.
“We hear of this act perpetrated against one of the most respected women of this community. True, she is a heretic. True she speaks falsehood and foolishness, but she does not lie. So who is the source of these lies? The innocent folk who live here are willing to listen to lies about the Mnankrei just as they are willing to listen to lies about the Kaiel, so they look no farther for truth. But we are the Mnankrei and so we look for the source of these vicious lies. Of course we suspect the Kaiel.
“Are not the Kaiel known for their devious lies and their arrogance? The kaiel insect spreads false scent so it can control. The priest insects who have usurped this name spread calumny for the same purpose. But the salt spray that clears the nose gives us immunity from such ensnarement.
“Was it hard to find you? It took a day. You stand on my deck against your will, shaved of your dignity, in fetters. We also have spies. Our spies are more brilliant than your spies. Haven’t we Culled for intelligence week by week while you baby-eaters wait for famine to tell you when to Cull?” He paused and cleaned his fingernails with the point of his knife. “A Kaiel posing as an o’Tghalie. True Kaiel deception. Futile. The wind that fills our sails does not need feet. Speak! Defend yourself or confess!”
To abate the adrenalin terror, the manacled woman clenched her fists and breathed heavily, breasts rising and falling with her chest, but she would not reply.
Tonpa flipped his knife and it sank into the deck, vibrating. One of the seamen recovered the thin weapon, returning it with a bow. The Storm Master never took his eyes off Teenae. He accepted a mug of warm broth from a boy who emerged up a ladder and still he did not unlock his nude victim from the brig of his gaze. He grew impatient.
“This woman you wish dead, whom you have so cowardly attacked in the name of the Mnankrei, is coming aboard ship. You know she is in no danger here. But because of your lies, she was difficult to persuade. I have had to offer hostages. You will have to face her.” He watched Teenae flinch and laughed the great laugh. “She does not know the truth.” He watched Teenae shrink. “I do.” He watched Teenae turn her head away ever so slightly. She was breaking. “I give you a choice. You may face her and keep silent and make your Contribution through Ritual Suicide to the larder of this ship which has sacrificed so much to bring food to those threatened with starvation, or you may speak with honor the truth and escape with only your nose being cut from your face for the crime of slander. Speak!”
Teenae was glaring at him with a hatred that had overwhelmed her fear — for the moment. Tonpa shrugged, deliberately feigning indifference. “It’s been a long voyage. Be stubborn. The men will not object to the taste of fresh meat.” He watched her eyes dart between her two guards. They were grinning. Her hatred crumbled to fear and he had her.
“I will speak the truth to Oelita — but not for my life,” she said with loathing.
“Because you are honorable, of course.” He couldn’t resist that last whiplash. A gesture told the guards to take her away.
Tonpa followed her down to the lower deck but his ever-alert eyes caught the stare of one of his sailors as the prisoner was escorted past him. Arap was a big boy, bigger than Tonpa, and useful in a storm for his untiring ferocity. He was young, very young; he had no more than fuzz for a beard but he was precocious with the women, a jolly soul who could convince a matron twice his age that she was young again, and never failed to try.
“What a waste!” he sighed to his master, his hand gesturing in open grip as if he would take heaven by her round buttocks.
“Nothing is to be wasted,” replied Tonpa to provoke Arap. “Every finger of her is lean meat.”
“Storm Master, sir! How c’d you? A comely girl like that-un? Leave me have the appetizer. You c’n have the steak.”
“She’d scratch your eyes out!”
“Not me, sir!”
“Follow me,” said Tonpa abruptly.
Arap whitened. “Sir, if I’ve offended you…”
“You have not offended me.” The Mnankrei priest brought Arap of the lesser clans into his luxurious cabin and set him down in the velvet seat by the desk, amused at the boy’s discomfort. Clan code did not permit a seaman to enter the Storm Master’s cabin and Arap had never been here before. He did not want to sit in the velvet seat but he obeyed orders. The room impressed him.
“Shall I give the wench into your hands?” Tonpa teased.
Arap was sweating. “We c’d all have a go at her, sir. Perhaps I c’d train her up not to fight too hard.” The sailor was growing appalled at his position. It was a trap and whatever he said was coming out wrong. A horrible suspicion was dawning. Their master was known to lead by the ear. “Sir, you’re not liable to assign me to butcher her? Really, sir, I lack skill in such art.”
“You think of me in harsh terms, Arap.”
“No, sir.”
“I know exactly what you say about me below decks!”
Arap mentally began to ready himself for keel-hauling. “Them’s only jokes, sir,” he said helplessly.
“I’m assigning you to guard duty on this Teenae. The first watch you will only smile at her and do her silent favors of the smallest kind. Other seamen will discuss recipes with her in a somewhat bawdy way. When she is sufficiently terrorized, you will become very tender with her. Appear infatuated to the extent that you are willing to risk your life for her. Tell her your jokes about me; the one about how I bail a boat will do nicely,” he added wryly.
Arap was near to fainting.
“See that she knows you consider me to be a monster. Tell her our plans, exactly as they have been told to you.”
“But, sir…”
“Then help her escape.”
“We’re to leave the wind have those legs?”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t collect whatever gratitude she might offer. But don’t use force or I’ll give you fifty lashes. Wet your oar gently if you wet it at all.”
“Sir, I’ve b’n set with the party to row ashore and burn the silos.”
“I know.”
“I’m to spill that in her ear?”
“That’s what I said.”
“And I’m to take my way with her?”
“If you’re clever. I doubt that you are. In any event she is to escape.”
The illumination of day and then night passed dimly over the only nearby porthole. Smells in the dark cubicle where Teenae was chained sifted through the air and she could hardly see the man-boy who brought her food. He was the one who had been kind to her when the cook and his assistants were down making ribald jokes in very bad taste. She didn’t want to eat now but if only she could get those chains unlocked for a few minutes! “Please, if you take the chains off I can eat.”
He would not do that, but he sat down beside her and fed her the gruel carefully. “Don’t be afraid of old Lace Beard. He never does much more’n keel-haul a man. Can’t stomach killin‘ even if it means a good meal. Course the men’ve b’n complainin’ ’bout the food and sometimes he gotta keep the peace. I’d be suspectin’ the worst he’d do is make you ship’s whore and then you’d be lucky ’cause I’d take care of you.”
She backed away as far as the chains would let her.
“For you, I’d even dunk a bath.” He offered the food again. “Don’t make such a face! We don’t get better’n this ourselves. Don’t to worry. He’s goin’ to let you go.”