“Give the Methi back her man,” said t’Nechis, “all three of them: t’Elas, human and foreigner.”
T’Nethim was pale, but he kept his dignity behind the shelter Ian t’Ilev gave the three of them. Voices were raised, weapons all but drawn, and finally Ian settled the matter by ordering his ship put about for Nephane with the fleet streamer flying beside the others.
Then they were underway, and the sight of the Methi’s fleet dropping astern with no visible evidence of pursuit greatly heartened the men and silenced some of the demands for vengeance.
“Why should they pursue,” asked t’Nechis, “if we do their work for them? Gods, gods, this is wrong!”
And once again there was talk of throat-cutting, of throwing the three of them into the sea with Lhe t’Nethim cut in pieces, until the t’Ilevi together put themselves bodily between the t’Nechisen and Kta t’Elas.
“Stop this,” said Ian, and for all that he was a young man and beneath the age of some of the men who quarreled, he put such anger into his voice that there was a silence made, if only a breath of one.
“It is shameful,” said Lu t’Isulan with great feeling. “We
disgrace ourselves under the eyes of this Indras stranger. Bring tea. It is a long distance to Nephane. If we cannot make a well-thought decision in that length of time, then we deserve our misery. Let us be still and think for a time.”
“We will not share fire and drink with a man of Indresul,” said t’Nechis. “Put him in irons.”
TNethim drew himself back with great dignity. “I will go apart from you,” he said, the first words they had listened for him to say. “And I will not interfere. I will still be on this ship if you decide for war.”
And with a bow of courtesy, he walked away to the bow, a figure of loneliness among so many enemies. His dignity made a silence among them.
“If you will,” said Kurt, “I will go there too.”
“You are of Elas,” said Kta fiercely. “Stand your ground.”
There were hard looks at that. It came to Kurt then that Elas had lost a great deal with Tavi, not alone a ship, but brave men, staunch friends of Elas. And those who surrounded them now, with the exception of Irain, Ilev and Isulan, were Families which sympathized less with Elas.
And even among those, there were some who hated humans. Such, even, was Ian t’Ilev; it radiated from him, a little shiver of aversion whenever eyes chanced to meet.
Only Lu and Toj t’Isulan, house-friends to Elas, elected to sit by Kta at the sharing of drink. They sat on Kta’s left, Kurt on the right.
Kurt accepted the cup into his fingers gratefully and sipped at the hot sweet liquid. It held its own memories of home and Elas, of sanity and reason, as if there was no power on earth that could change or threaten this little amenity, this odd tribute of the Indras to hearth and civilized order.
Yet everything, their lives and Nephane itself, was as fragile at the moment as the china cup in his fingers.
One round passed in silence. So did most of the second. It was, as the nemet would say, a third-round problem, a matter so disturbing that no one felt calm enough to speak until they had waited through a third series of courtesies and ceremony.
“It is certain,” said Ian at last, “that the Methi’s word is good so far. We are not pursued. We have to consider that she is indeed a Methi of our own people, and it is unthinkable that she would lie.”
“Granted,” said t’Nechis. “But then what does the truth leave us?”
“With Nephane standing,” said Kta very softly. “And I do love the city, t’Nechis. Even if you hate me, believe that.”
“I believe it,” said t’Nechis. “Only I suggest that you have perhaps loved honors the Methi promised you more than is becoming.”
“She gave him nothing,” said Ian. “And you have my word on that.”
“It may be so,” conceded t’Nechis, and yet with an uneasy look at Kurt, as if any nemet who consorted with humans was suspect. Kurt lowered his head and” stared at a spot on the deck.