The Quartered Sea (57 page)

"I don't know how you can hear anything in this unenclosed fog," the captain muttered. Leaning over the amidship rail, he whistled softly to catch the mate's attention. "Hanicka, send down a line." Turning back to the bards, he added, "A person shouldn't have to whisper orders on their own ship. I'll be unenclosed glad when we've picked up Benedikt and are well away."

They waited silently while the depth was taken and Hanicka climbed up to the sterncastle with the measurement.

"How much?"

"Yes, what?" Seemingly out of nowhere, Bannon appeared by the captain's side. For the first time since they'd left Shkoder, he was wearing both belt knife and wrist sheaths. "Ask the kigh where I can find Benedikt."

Eyes locked on Bannon's face, Karlene cut the other bard off. "You're wasting breath, Evicka. He'll go anyway, so we might as well send him to the right place." Walking over to the rail, she Sang the four notes to call the kigh and then the four notes of Benedikt's name.

The
Silver Vixen
rocked slightly as the kigh replied.

Unfortunately, they didn't know where Benedikt was, only where he'd been.

"If he was on that ship," Bannon growled as the two-man dinghy was lowered as quietly as possible over the side, "someone there knows where he is now. At the very least, I'll get some idea of the situation before you three march in with a rousing chorus of wind and water."

"You still don't speak the language," Evicka reminded him.

"If I can't make myself understood…" His tone suggested that wasn't likely to happen."… I'll bring the slaughtering someone back here for
you
to talk to."

The fog had broken into patches like low-lying clouds by the time Bannon entered the harbor and had disappeared entirely as his boat drifted almost directly under the high, curved prow of a ship and bumped silently against a massive pier.

There was no moon, but the unfamiliar stars were bright enough for Bannon to note the carved squid wrapped around the bow. According to the kigh, Benedikt had sailed on this ship, had Sung to them from it, had been hurt on the pier beside it.

When I find out who did it
, Bannon promised as he tied off his boat and climbed through shadow,
I'll make that person wish they'd never been born. A
good assassin killed instantly. This time, he'd make an exception.

The sailor on watch stiffened as Bannon passed, sensing a threat he couldn't see. He spat a question into the darkness, but by the time he turned toward the right set of shadows, Bannon was gone.

While part of the ex-assassin reveled in the chance to put fatally acquired skills to work once again, the rest noted low voices coming from inside the sterncastle. Voices but no lights. It didn't sound like the sort of dialogue that went with sex, but he couldn't think of another reason for the lack of lights nor could he think of a better time to get some information. People interrupted in the midst of sex were usually too rattled to put up any kind of a defense.

His soft boots making no noise on the deck, he sped aft.

Up close, it began to sound more like an actual conversation.

Then why are they sitting in the slaughtering dark
. To his surprise, the walls weren't solid planking but make of louvered shutters like many of the walls back home in the Empire's Sixth Province. Bannon supposed that made sense, the temperature seemed about the same. But, if the crew had come on deck to get out of the heat below, why were the shutters closed? Unless they weren't supposed to be in there. On the
Vixen
, the roughly equivalent space was the captain's cabin.

Barely breathing, he listened to the rise and fall of conversations, trying to determine just how many of the crew were in there. None of the words sounded familiar and even the cadences were strange. He identified two speakers, then three, then a fourth said something that could have only been Benedikt, and the others laughed.

Bannon's lips drew back off his teeth, and his belt knife was in his hand.

The fourth voice continued, exaggerating fear with high-pitched babbling, then he ended with a shriek, a pause, and a word that sounded very much like, "Oops." The others thought he was hysterically funny.

Kicking in the shutter, Bannon threw himself on the fourth voice, dagger aimed up under the ribs, going for the safer body kill in the dark.

"The sun's up." Karlene scowled at the sky. "Or as up as it seems willing to get. Bannon won't be back now until tonight."

"He's an Imperial assassin. He sneaks into cities, villages, camps, whatever, and kills people. This time, he's trying to save someone, it's probably got him a bit confused."

As Karlene strode off amidships, Jurgis came out of the forecastle shirtless and yawning and walked over to Evicka. "What got the kigh all worked up?"

* * *

"Gracious one, I must protest this sacrilege."

"What sacrilege?" Arms folded, the tul turned to Ooman Xhai while Xhojee continued to paint black patterns on Benedikt's head. "If he is, as you believe, a warrior of Tulpayotee, why would the god mind him pretending to be a priest?"

"A warrior perhaps, but
not
a priest."

Tul Altun waved the protest aside. "I'm sure he can cope with the demotion."

"I'm finished, gracious one." Xhojee stepped back and studied his handiwork. "But I think your adorner could've done a better job."

"Probably. Had I wanted my adorner to know." The tul examined Benedikt critically and smiled. "If I get the chance, I'll have to thank my sister for both giving me the idea and for shaving your head. Stand up."

Thinking that the tul's smile had become increasingly reckless as the morning progressed, Benedikt shook out the folds of his yellow robe and stood.

"You're still too tall."

"My apologies, gracious one."

"Never mind. Nothing we can do about it now." He glanced down at the measure of fabric Xhojee had inexpertly sewn to the bottom of the robe, and his lip curled. "Fortunately, you'll be in the cart, so your height will be less easy to see."

"In the cart, gracious one?" A sudden realization drew Ooman Xhai's attention from the fake tattoos on Benedikt's head. "But if he's in the cart…"

"Then you're walking. Or staying here. I don't care either way."

The Kohunlich-tul, Xhojee, Benedikt, a disgruntled Ooman Xhai, and every guard the Kohunlich-tul had in Atixlan save those actually on the doors, waited in the vestibule for a karjen from the stable to bring the cart around. They left the building in their order of march and by the time the last three guards were in line, the first three were moving.

"A fast walk," Tul Altun instructed the karjen holding the coloas' bridle. "But don't run. A run through the streets of the capital," he added for Benedikt's benefit, "would attract the attention of the other houses."

"Your sister and her guard ran through the city." Remembering how quickly the xaan had been traveling when she arrived at the harbor after he'd been caught, Benedikt had to suppress a shudder. "The other houses didn't seem to notice."

"They noticed, and they stayed out of her way. When the powerless run, however, it means something entirely different. It draws the scavengers to feed." The tul's eyes glittered, their dark centers reflecting back the sunlight like polished stone and Benedikt could feel an almost feverish heat rising off him.

"Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" His laugh held the faint cadences of hysteria. "I was just thinking of how Balankanche's gold would buy me power enough to ensure a Kohunlich-xaan that's easier to live with. I'm sure Mijandra's trained the cousins to be properly subservient."

"But your sister…"

"When the gold gets me the ear of the Xaantalax, my sister will suffer the fate of all those whose reach exceeds their grasp."

They were neither of them very pleasant people, Benedikt reflected as their small procession began to pass the more expensive shops and their shoppers. The only real difference was the that tul's position forced him to cooperate rather than compel. Still, if it came to a choice between death by leopard and death by quicksand, Benedikt preferred the former.

"I'd kill or maim you just as easily as she would if it suited me."

"But not as coldly."

Had the tul ordered his eye removed, there would've been emotion involved, not a dry taking-care-of-business.
At least I could've gotten a song out of it
, he thought, slumping lower in the seat.
It wouldn't have been a total loss
.

But nothing else would've changed
, he reminded himself.

But if I at least had a song, I'd be ahead.

"Stop sweating, Benedikt. The designs on your head are smearing."

"Your pardon, gracious one." Tul Altun was clearly not the only one affected by the day's activities.
At least I'd have a song? I'm losing my mind
.

"Gracious one!" Breathing heavily, a karjen with the tul's tattoos on her arms fell into step beside the cart. "Two Fives of the xaan's guards have left the Great Square at a quick march."

"Good work." The tul's voice had picked up a manic edge. "Tell the house First you speak with the mouth of the tul and that we need to move a little faster."

For the first time, Benedikt appreciated a social system that arbitrarily cleared the way for the great houses. In spite of crowds in the lower town, their pace never faltered, and as far as Benedikt could tell, no one was hurt. Reaching the harbor safely, they clattered across the stones, and right out onto the House Kohunlich pier.