It was long after those aboardKing's Ransom could hear the plop of the oars that they could make out the dinghy. Many of the crew leaned over the railing, straining to see. Yes, there were three men aboard. A cheer went up – quietly, for they were still in Dragon's waters. A rope ladder went over the side. Warnyre saw Keron seize it.
He climbed alone, Enret and Bhaukom staying with the boat to help secure the winches to raise it to its berth. The large party waiting on the main deck surged forward to greet their returning captain. Warnyre remained at his vantage point near the stern. He lost sight of Keron in the press of bodies.
Then the crowd parted. Keron stood in the center, staring at the entrance to the staterooms. Nanth had just emerged and waited for him there. Keron seemed to pause in his approach, Warnyre thought, but then the captain gave his wife a long embrace, enduring much good-hearted teasing from the crew in the process. Warnyre stifled his jealousy and started to climb down from the poop.
"Oh, my love," the admiral heard Nanth say, "thank blue sky and sea that you've come back safe and living."
Keron touched her cheek gently and turned to the man who had just appeared from the doorway. "We have Obo's talents to thank for that."
The wizard bowed slightly. "I slept for a week after the crisis passed. I shouldhope you're grateful."
Warnyre cleared his throat.
Keron faced him, no longer smiling.
"At your service, Admiral Warnyre," Keron said, and saluted, palm to chest.
The admiral nodded stiffly. "You're a hard man to kill, Captain. The news from Eruth was not optimistic. It seems a miracle you made it back."
"It was. A case of luck, really."
"You must tell me more."
"Not just yet," Keron said amiably. He waved an arm toward the crew. "Well? Where's the rum?"
The liquor appeared instantly. Keron and Nanth were led back into the throng. Soon someone thrust a stein in Warnyre's hand. To his annoyance, he was called on to make the toast.
The admiral had not forgotten how to be charming when the occasion demanded it. "To Captain Keron Olendim, of the House of Alemar," the admiral stated heartily. "Welcome home."
The crew applauded, and the celebration began. Warnyre, however, retreated to a spot on the poop deck, where he could sip his rum in peace. The men ignored him. They had surrounded Keron and were plying him with questions. Warnyre was patient. He'd find out sooner or later how the man had slipped the trap.
Obo retreated below, disdaining the rowdiness. The crew didn't forget that they were in enemy territory. The lookout and night watch remained sober, and as before, the running lights were left unlit. Nevertheless, the party was boisterous. Keron was a popular officer, Warnyre had to admit. It was one of the reasons he hated him.
Robbern briefly joined the admiral. "Stay close at hand tonight," Warnyre told him. The man nodded and disappeared below.
It was some time later that he noticed the captain and his wife begging their leave and heading for their quarters. Warnyre did not share the knowing smiles of the crew. What would she tell him? he wondered. Nothing. Warnyre had not touched her. The admiral had learned early to be a cautious man. He had wanted to be sure Keron was out of the way before he actively pursued Nanth. He would find a way soon.
The drinking was still going strong when Warnyre made his way back to his stateroom. He opened the door, stepped in, and tapped the striker of his lamp. The wick caught.
"Good evening, Admiral."
Warnyre jumped. Keron was leaning back lazily on his bed. The admiral recovered quickly. "To what do I owe the honor, Captain?"
"I thought you might want a report on my mission," Keron said matter-of-factly.
Warnyre closed the door. "I had thought tomorrow morning would be more appropriate."
Keron reached in a pocket, withdrew something, and threw it to the admiral. "I found something in Eruth. I thought you might be interested in it."
Warnyre held what he had caught in his open palm. It was an amath pearl.
"Have you ever seen that before?" Keron asked.
"I've seen many amath pearls."
"Notice the flaw. It's quite distinctive. The last time I saw that pearl, it was in the sea chest of this very ship."
Suddenly Warnyre whistled sharply.
"We seem to be upset, Admiral."
"You won't live to bear witness against me," Warnyre swore, and drew his rapier.
The door opened. Enret stuck his head in. "Did someone whistle?"
"What?!" Warnyre yelled.
Enret lifted the head of an unconscious man into view. "If you wanted Nals here, he seems to have fallen suddenly asleep. Poor Robbern isn't doing much better." Behind Enret, Bhaukom waved cheerfully.
Warnyre spun toward Keron, who simply raised a blowgun to his lips and fired. Warnyre clutched at the pin in his chest. His rapier fell, then his body, battering the floor with an ignominious thud. He wiggled there, awake and struggling, but unable to stand.
Keron came forward, picked Warnyre up by the front of his clothing and hoisted him above his head. "I used Mother's Breath. You can try moving your muscles all you want, but they won't work in coordination. Unfortunately it won't kill you."
Warnyre goggled at the single arm holding him toward the ceiling. Suddenly everything made sense. "You – you have the belt of Alemar!" The words were garbled by the effect of the poison, but understandable.
"Yes. Had you known that earlier, your ambush would no doubt have been successful. The belt doesn't do much, you know; just makes me strong. I see now that I need something to make me stab-proof."
Enret, with Bhaukom immediately behind, dragged in the limp bodies of Warnyre's henchmen. "What do we do with these, Cap'n?"
"Put them in the brig. I want them alive."
He dropped Warnyre, leaning the man's back against one of his sea chests. "I want all of you alive. There are others like you out there, and you can tell about them."
"Never," Warnyre mumbled, but he failed even to convince himself.
"Think again. Send Obo to me," Keron called after his departing mates.
"No need," the old wizard said, and stepped into the room. He stooped over the admiral. Warnyre looked into the frightening depth of the sorcerer's eyes and choked.
"We will find the truth," Keron reiterated. "It's no trivial thing, a navy man defying the authority of his superior officer. For my sake I have to make sure my case is thorough. We will set sail for Firsthold before the night is out. The king himself will be the judge of your guilt."
Warnyre groaned.
"Lady Nanth has been pining for the children. She will be pleased to return to the capital," Obo said.
"I imagine she would be," Keron said in a reserved tone. Obo shot him a puzzled look. As Warnyre drifted off into a drugged haze, he felt Keron lift his head by the hair. The expression on the captain's face seemed more melancholy than victorious, and his voice was vengeful.
"You owe me more than you will ever know," he said.
XVI
AN OLD PRIEST NAMEDGerat led Alemar and Elenya more than a league from the T'krt camp in the central reach of the Ahloorm Basin, alone and in silence, and stopped in the middle of open desert. The place was a curious mixture of terrain. Several outcroppings of brittle, volcanic rock pockmarked the landscape, the sands varying from miniature, fine-grained dunes to patches of coarse material. Silt from prehistoric flows of the Ahloorm could be found in the areas where the sage was thickest. Gerat reached down and broke off a chunk of ancient lava, his grip stronger than one would expect of a priest.
"What is this called?" he asked.
Alemar sighed. "Seti'i."
The old man made no overt acknowledgment of the correct answer, merely stepped over to a ridge of sand and picked up a handful of its grains. "This?" he asked Elenya.