He had taken the risk, and he believed he had won. Had to believe it, for the nightmare reached its nadir in the Water Temple. Returning again from oblivion, awakening in a canal with priests and Jik swarming in search of him, he had known that without powerful help his mission was doomed. He would fail against whatever that thing was that held the first emperor himself on a leash. Ghe was not the only inhuman creature walking in Nhol, nor the most powerful. Only the emperor himself was an ally worthy of that thing, and Ghe had known, then, that it was his to win the emperor or win nothing at all.
But the Chakunge was a man as well as a god, a living man,and as such had a natural abhorrence for Ghe and what he was. Perhaps the expedition was meant to go on, but he was not.
If so, however, the emperor should have had him extinguished in the palace, for here, floating on the very skin of the River, Ghe was in the flower of his strength. Even the gnawings of hunger stayed distant, an occasional irritation, but nothing he need feed. This was fortunate, since on a ship with only eighty people, he could not sate his hunger without being noticed.
So, with the barest hesitation, he threaded softly back to the entrance to the cabin, lifted the board aside, and entered.
“What sort of ship's rat is this?” a voice purred softly. A woman's voice. Ghe whirled, wondering how he could have been so preoccupied.
She stood there, regarding his condition of undress with obvious amusement. Thick, sensual lips bowed faintly at the corners of a narrow, tapered face. Opalescent eyes shimmered with amusement, curiosity—perhaps cruelty, as well. Her hair, bound up with a comb, was black, but unlike that of most of the nobility, it was not straight but instead slightly wavy, like his own—usually a sign of lower-than-noble birth.
Her clothing carried a message quite different from her features and hair, however. Though not ostentatious, her dress was of jeh, a fiber much like silk but rarer yet, available only to Blood Royal.
“Well?” she asked, and he realized he had not answered her. “What cause have you to skulk in my quarters? And what sort of apparel is this, loincloth and neck-wrap? Some new fashion in the court I haven't learned of yet?”
“A-ah,” Ghe replied, all but successfully avoiding a stammer. “You must pardon me, Lady. If you will hand me my robe, I will don it.”
“arrobe?”
“Yes. I did not wish to stain it inspecting the cargo.”
“I see.” Her gaze fastened on his scarf, and the amusement faded a bit, replaced by … fascination? An odd gleam in her eye, anyway. “You are Yen.”
“I am he.”
Only the emperor and perhaps Nyas, his advisor, knew Ghe's real name. Easiest to hide his identity from Ghan if he were the only one avoiding mistakes.
“Well, I think we expected you to be dressed to receive us. I do not stand on such formalities—with men, anyway—but Lord Bone Eel shall, I think.” She stooped and handed him the robe, which he stepped into immediately. She was slight though not particularly short. Young.
“I was expecting only Bone Eel,” Ghe said, frowning, trying to understand the faint buzz of emotion emanating from her, and failing.
“Lord Bone Eel is my husband. I am the Lady Qwen Shen.”
“Oh. I was not informed.” He stopped and bowed what he thought to be the appropriate bow, and she did not laugh outright.
“You will be accompanying us?” he asked when he straightened.
“Yes, of course. I could not let my husband stray far from my sight. Servants will be along soon with my clothes. I only wanted to see my quarters.”
“Well, then,” Ghe answered. “I hope that you approve.”
“Oh, I don't,” she said. “They are drab and cramped, and I detest them already.”
“Except when it rains, a pavilion will be erected for you on deck,” Ghe informed her. “I have seen such pavilions, and they are much more comfortable than these rooms.” Though he thought his cabin was very nice indeed, compared to anywhere he had ever lived, or to the crowded common rooms the soldiers must make do with.
“Well, it isn't raining now. Come up on deck and greet my husband.”
“Unfortunately, I am under direct orders from the emperor himself to remain here until the voyage begins. I regret the inconvenience, but the lord must come below to meet me.”
“He won't like that, even though he must come down here anyway. He prefers for his men to greet him on the deck.”
“Once again,” Ghe said, “I must apologize. But I must also do the emperor's bidding.”
“Yes, you must, I suppose,” she replied indifferently. Her mood had changed; whatever interest and amusement she might have found in him earlier departed. “Well.” She brightened. “Perhaps I will go see about having that pavilion erected.”
There came a clumping behind them, as someone descended from the upper deck. “I have seen to it already,” a man's voice assured her. Ghe turned, not caught unaware this time.
“Lord Bone Eel,” he replied, bowing a degree or so lower than he had for Qwen Shen.
“Yes, yes, enough bowing. We are shipmates, and you will find that on board ship there is less of that stifling formality we have in the city.”
“Yes, Lord,” Ghe replied, trying to get the captain's measure.
He already knew a thing or two, of course. The highest nobility, those in the immediate family of the Chakunge, were all named so that water was actually mentioned in their names. It was the next tier down, the secondary nobility, who tended to be named for creatures of the water. He thus knew Bone Eel to be well removed from the line to the throne, but not as far removed as the most minor nobility, who were named for creatures that lived around but not in the River, such as the little whelp who had courted Hezhi. Wezh, whose name meant “gull.”
Bone Eel looked like a captain. He was tall and striking, his profile hewn from a strong stone but polished to perfection. His hair was straight, glossy black, and worn cropped like a helmet at his ears. He was dressed in a simply cut but elegant yellow sarong and a sailor's loose shirt, umber with bluish turtles batiked upon it. A scabbarded sword hung casually from a broad leather belt.
“You are Yen, the diplomat of whom the emperor informed me?”
Diplomat? “Yes,” he answered cautiously. “I am Yen.”
“And who do we wait for now? This scholar, Ghem?”
“Ah, Ghan, my lord,” he corrected. ”And he will join us sometime hence.”
“Well, let's hope he arrives soon. I wish to be under way before nightfall.”
“Nightfall? I thought we were to leave by morning.”
“As did I,” Bone Eel replied, his mouth flattening into a grim line. “But the emperor said that we were to take no priests on this journey, you see?” By his look he clearly took for granted that Ghe did see.
“No, Lord, I'm sorry, I don't.” Ghe was beginning to feel a certain irritation with the man. He let his gaze wander inside the captain's chest, thought idly about just stroking the strands there, the way one might stroke a harp. But the time for that would probably come soon enough, not now. He must have patience, for there was much he did not know. If he had learned anything at all in the past days, it was that impulsive actions were not always wise ones.