The sprite's route inland would begin there.
"So we hold Sea Cliffs, and they brought in those that hold Dead Seal Flats. Now, you want to put people all along here," Wanshig said. "If you
don't want them attacked, nobody had better know what you're giving them, and we still need truce for (he whole length. This is Ogre turf here. They're crazy. We can't get truce and we couldn't trust it. Why not go around?"
"We'd never get a moving wave up here. Too high."
"Lord Wanshig?" That was Artcher, one of Wanshig's entourage, likely a nephew. He'd shown some skill with maps. Now he asked, "What if we ran the line along here? It's Long Avenue. The road runs this way because deer followed the low route, and it's Weasel turf from here all the way to here. They keep their truce too."
"They take cursed big gifts to make truce!"
"I think I hear my secret name," Whandall said. An ornate knife, some glass jewelry, honey candy, and half their route was secured right there.
As they nailed down the route, Wanshig sent out runners. The blades Whandall had brought for Lords were all going to Lordkin, but that was all right. The Lords wanted him much more than he had expected.
"That's a nice low run. Dark Man's Cup?"
"Bull Fizzles," Wanshig said.
"Don't tell me that!"
"Freethspat was good, little brother, but he didn't keep other people's promises. It's a garbage dump again too. Look, Dark Man's Cup is perfect if those Fizzles will trust me not to snatch it back."
"Offer to scour it clean for two coils of hemp. Say we've got a wizard. If they've heard the rumors, they'll know it's true. Say they can pay on delivery."
Runners began flowing in with answers. Long Avenue was under truce. Bull Fizzles would deal if Serpent's Walk would wait half a year for the hemp. Now send a credible messenger to get the kinless out of Dark Man's Cup. No details could be given, as they might leak, but get out!
Dirty Birds were easy, still allies after all these years.
Silly Rabbits would not make truce. They had to have that stretch. Send another offer, but count on sending guards to protect Whandall's chosen.
That evening Whandall gathered his chosen in the banquet room, now map room. He spoke briefly, and he passed out bottles.
"Anyone who wants to leave Tep's Town: here is a cold iron-glazed bottle. Don't open it tonight!"
Knife training and mapmaking gave him men who could keep their temper. Millers and Ropewalkers he gave special consideration. This woman could read. This one cooked a stew from random gatherings. Green Stone watched children pulling weeds on the Placehold roof garden, and chose three. Freethspat's boy, Whandall's last half brother aged thirty, was worth a look. He'd rejected the maps and the knife practice, but he got a bottle.
Any of his chosen might take a mate when they left. None were told what would be done. Yangin-Atep might take anyone's mind.
Back in Peacegiven Square, Whandall went to Morth's quarters to choose his running gear. "Pick something colorful, something distinctive. Don't you have anything that isn't gray or black, Morth?"
"I've seen your motley crew. None of them dress like any other! Those Flower Market Lordkin make Seshmarls look diffident! And you want distinctive?"
Whandall sighed. "Sandry, doesn't your cousin Roni know a seamstress?"
"Likely enough, sir."
"Green Stone, write. 'Roni, Morth must have a wizard's robe by tomorrow night. Something anyone can see from a mountaintop on a cloudy day. Please carry my word to your seamstress. This is her price.' " Whandall chose a swath of the finest cloth in the caravan, lavender with highlights in it, then sheets of bright green and bright gold. "And this for Morth."
Chapter 77
The bottles had been given out the previous evening. This day was given to more knifeplay and mapmaking. After dinner all gathered to be given their final instructions.
Morth wore robes in blazing green patched with huge golden stars. Whandall stared. The cursed robe was perfect, just perfect. From a mountaintop on a cloudy day. He'd said that. It would be bad to laugh, but... "Morth, you really look like a wizard, Morth."
"Oh, shut up!" Morth hurled the pointed cap at the floor. "How was that supposed to stay on? Did you think-"
"This is Morth!" Whandall bellowed, and waved grandly. "Look at him! Know him when you see him again!" There was laughter, none of it muffled. These were Lordkin. "Good. Morth, now I need you to ferret out every bottle that has been opened."
Laughter died as Morth moved among the giggling horde and pointed, pointed. Wanshig's musclemen moved after him and saw to it that certain men and women went away.
"I only had it open for an instant!"
Morth took the stopper off. "Nothing. Refined. Keep it, but go."
Another complained. Morth pulled the stopper out and back fast. "Still some power left. How long did you have this open?"
"Long enough for Tarcress to finish cooking sand dabs. Just time to pour a bit out, to think that that was gold and ... put it back."
"Keep your place." Morth opened another bottle. "No gold. Fool! Keep the bottle and gel out."
"Gathered by my brother!"
"Fool!"
Wanshig asked above the noise, "You're sure? They keep the bottles?"
"If they go quietly. Fifteen of my heroes are clean missing, bottle and all, but these came," Whandall said.
"I count eleven missing."
Morth tapped five in a clump of six. The sixth boy watched them depart. Whandall asked him, "What happened?"
"We all live in a room at the Placehold. Last night Flaide opened his bottle and poured out a handful of gold. He told the rest of us."
"Why didn't you open yours?"
Silence.
"Good. Your name? Sadesp, were you all six stationed next to each other? Curse. Whandall, all of these other bottles stayed closed."
"Hold up, Morth. I don't know some of these people." Fifteen gone but four replaced by strangers. The woman was looking at him. "Did I give you that bottle?"
Pride and terror. "No, Feathersnake. I'm taking Leathersmith Miller's place."
"Where is he?"
"Smitty slept beside me last night. I'm Sapphire Carpenter, and I know more about love than any woman in the inner city."
Wanshig said, "She speaks the truth. Sapphire, you're leaving?"
"Morth, look her over."
"She's clean. No diseases, no curses. A few fleas. She's left the bottle
stopped. Sapphire, can you throw?"
"Yes. Smitty showed me his place. I have his map."
She'd kept the bottle unopened for several hours.
"Take your place," Morth said. "And, Sapphire, if you think you know every pleasure that may pass between a man and a woman, we should talk."
Three more carried black bottles Whandall hadn't given them. Three men had backed out, or gotten high or drunk, or-face it-been killed for their places. Too late to tell. Whandall sent one away, with a gold nugget and no bottle, because he didn't like his look. He would risk the others.
He nodded to Wanshig. Wanshig unbarred a door and they trooped in. "Watch your step," Whandall called, then followed with Green Stone.
They had been all day working on this map, using charcoal and props.
Whandall said, "Green Stone, take over." The boy had been familiar with the general plan for months. He believed, where Whandall didn't