“What about our horses?”
“There is a closed shed in back I use for the dray horses. There is enough room and grain for yours. Grain, ah!” He smacked his forehead. “I’ll be back.” With that, he bustled from the office, deeper into the warehouse.
Piers met Athlone’s eyes and shrugged slightly. “He’s always been like that. Busy. But he’s an honest man to his friends. He’ll do what he can.” In a short time, the travelers settled their horses in the shed behind the warehouse and gathered in the office to wait for Sengi. He came back carrying a bottle and a tray of food. His eyebrows went up at the sight of all the people, their gear, and the dog.
“Goodness. I did not expect so many.” He looked over them all, especially Sayyed and the little girl, and was rather puzzled. “Is the sorceress with you?”
Gabria stepped forward to meet him. She untied her scan and lowered the veil from her face. “I am Gabria.”
Sengi blinked at her, then he smiled with welcome and relief. “Your disguise is good, Lady. It hides your fairness like a leather bag can hide a jewel. Please, come.”
The merchant, still carrying his tray, led the party into the main warehouse. Even in the darkness they could sense the vast size of the room and hear its echoing emptiness.
“My stock is low at the moment,” Sengi said, directing them toward the building’s rear. “The Fon has not interfered with my business as she has with Khan’di’s, but she has imposed heavy taxes on all of us to finance her plans for war. I expect more wool soon from the north country.” He shook his head. “But that bloodthirsty woman will suck up all of my profits. If we do not act soon, she will destroy the economy of this city; and without the merchants. . .” He let his sentence trail off, then ducked into a narrow gap in a pile of big bales. The pile reached up out of the range of the lanterns, into the darkness that clung to the high ceiling.
From the smell, the clansmen realized the bales were wool fleeces packed and tied together. One by one, the travelers followed the merchant through the gap and into a narrow space as wide as two men side by side and twenty paces long. The wool bales and the warehouse wall surrounded them.
Sengi set the tray and his lamp down on a wooden crate. “I created this space two months ago after Khan’di left for the plains. I thought it might be useful. My workmen will be here tomorrow, but if you are quiet and stay out of sight during the day, you can stay here as long as you need to. I will care for your horses.”
The men looked around the space dubiously. “Is all of this secrecy really necessary?” Bregan asked.
The wool merchant glared at him. “If the Fon hears even a rumor that the sorceress is in the city, she will tear Pra Desh apart to find her.”
Athlone nodded once and set his gear down. The others followed his example. Sengi looked around to be sure all of his guests understood his warning. “Now then, I must get some more food.” Again he rushed away into the warehouse.
While the merchant was gone, the travelers piled their weapons and packs out of the way and settled down to wait.
Piers picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed the contents. “Andoran Wine,” he said in delight. He found his own horn cup and poured a full measure.
The wine was being passed around when Sengi returned. More bread, cheese, sugared dates, and another bottle of wine filled his arms. Khan’di followed in his wake.
The others stared in amazement at the nobleman as he stepped into the lamplight. His travel-stained knee-length robes and leggings had been replaced by resplendent robes of brilliant blue and gold, trimmed with white furs and embroidered with gold threads. Rings clustered on his fingers, and a heavy gold chain with the dolphin emblem of the Kadoa family hung about his neck.
Khan’di smiled at their reaction. “I’ve been to court this afternoon to pay my respects to the Fon. That is only right, since I am newly risen from my sick bed.”
Athlone cocked an eyebrow. “Sick bed?”
“Before I left Pra Desh I had my seneschal spread the word that I had fallen ill with a contagious disease. My healer has convincingly kept up the lie for all these weeks. Now, at last, I am well. The Fon seemed disappointed.”
“Was it wise to reveal your return to health now?” Piers asked.
“It was the only way I could learn what I needed to know.” He rubbed his hands together. “We have come just in time.” He waited for a few minutes while Sengi bustled around, bringing a jug of water, a couple of leather stools, and another lamp.
When the wool merchant was satisfied, he nodded farewell to his guests. “Until tomorrow. And, Piers, I hope you will tell me how you came to be among the clans. Good night.”
When he was gone, Khan’di lifted the hems of his robes and sat down on a stool. The travelers helped themselves to the food and wine and gathered around him.
Khan’di hesitated another moment before he began. “The Fon has accomplished a great deal while I was gone,” he said. “The entire kingdom of Calah is now completely in her grasp. No one has seen the young prince for days. It is rumored she had him thrown in the pit beneath the dungeon. She has either beggared, bribed, or destroyed many of the old noble Pra Deshian families, and the merchant guilds are almost bankrupt.” There was a deep undertone of anger and sadness in his voice, and as Gabria listened to him, she began to understand that Khan’di’s motivations were not totally selfish. He truly cared for his city and its well-being. He wanted to protect his power, influence, and wealth, but he also wanted to protect Pra Desh. Perhaps Khan’di had earned Piers’s distrust those many years ago in the old Fon’s court, but now he was striving to save his city—not just himself—from the ravages of a merciless ruler.
Khan’di went on. As he talked, he restlessly employed his hands to emphasize his words. “As you may have noticed, the Fon has not yet begun her invasion of Portane. She has delayed in order to gather more draftees and mercenaries for her army. I haven’t heard yet when she plans to strike.”
“In about four days,” Piers said quietly.
“Where did you hear that?”
“In a tavern. It was full of soldiers. They were complaining about leaving home.”
Khan’di drew a deep breath. “Four days. That doesn’t give us much time.”
“Does the Fon still have Branth?” Gabria asked.
“As far as anyone knows. No one has seen him, and there has been no sign of any sorcery.”
“He’s preparing,” she said, her voice strangely distant. The memory of her dream-vision flared up in her mind, and she shuddered.
Athlone set his cup down and leaned back against a bale. “Preparing for what?”
“The strike against Portane?” Bregan suggested.
“Quite likely,” said Khan’di. “I have arranged a meeting for tomorrow with the masters of the city’s guilds. I am going to try to stage a distraction that will help you enter the palace unnoticed. There you should begin your hunt for the exiled chieftain.”
Athlone looked at Gabria. Her face looked so pale, it worried him. “How do we get into the palace?” he asked the nobleman.
“I am working on that, too,” Khan’di replied. “I have an idea, but I need to locate someone whose help we need.”
“So what do we do in the meantime?” Athlone demanded.
“Wait; A day or two at most. We must move before the Fon attacks Portane. If she breaks the alliance of the Five Kingdoms, the whole region will go to war. But we have to lay our plans well. The Fon is no fool.” He rose to go, his fine robes gleaming in the lamplight. “I will be back tomorrow if l can.” He hesitated, his dark eyes on Gabria’s face. “If I don’t come back within two days, please try any way. We cannot leave a sorcerer in the Fon’s hands.”
Wordlessly Gabria held out her hand, palm up. The nobleman nodded and placed his hand, palm down, atop hers. They locked fingers in the clan gesture of sealing avow.