“T’Osanef,” murmured Gan, in that tone which said: Ei, Sufaki, but with pity.
“They have loved each other from childhood,” said Kta. “It was my father’s will, and mine.”
“Then it was well done,” said Gan. “May the light of heaven fall gently on them both.” And from an Indras of orthodoxy, it was much. “He is a brave man, this ‘t’Osanef, to be husband to our Aimu now.”
“It is true,” said Kta, and to the lady Na: “Pray for her, my lady. They have much need of it.”
“I shall, and for you, and for all who sail with you,” she answered, and included Kurt with a glance of her lovely eyes, to which Kurt bowed in deep reverence.
“Thank you,” said Kta. “Your house will be in my thoughts too.”
“I wish,” said Gan, “that you would change your mind and stay. But perhaps you are right. Perhaps some day things will be different, since the Methi is mateless. Someday it may be possible to return.”
“It is possible,” said Kta, “if she does not appoint a Sufaki successor. We do not much speak of it, but we fear there will be no return, not for our generation.”
Gan’s jaw tightened. “Acturi will send ships out tonight, I think.”
“Do not fight t’Tefur,” Kta pleaded.
“They will sail, I say, and provide at least a warning to Edrif.”
“When Djan-methi knows of it-”
‘Then she will learn the temper of the Isles,” said Gan, “and the Chosen of Heaven will perhaps restrain her ambition with sense.”
“Ai,” murmured Kta. “I do not want this, Gan.”
“This is Hnes’s choice. Elas has its own honor to consider. I have mine.”
“Friend of my father, these waters are too close to Indresul’s. You know not what you could let loose. It is a dangerous act.”
“It is,” said Gan again, “Hnes’s choice.”
Kta bowed his head, bound to silence under Gan’s roof, but that night he spent long in meditation and lay wakeful on his bed in the room he shared with Kurt.
Kurt watched him, and ventured no question into his unrest. He had enough of his own that evening, beginning to
fit together the pieces of what Kta had never explained to him, the probable scene in the Upei as Nym demanded justice for Mim’s death, while the Methi had in the actions of Elas’ own guest the pretext she needed to destroy Elas.
So Nym had died, and Elas had fallen.
And Djan could claim he had made it all inevitable, his marriage with Mim and his loyalty to Elas being the origin of all her troubles.
… Excepting lord Kurt, -who must be returned alive and unharmed to the Methi’s justice.
Hanan justice.
The justice of a personal anger, where the charges were nothing she would dare present in the Upei. She would destroy all he loved, but she would not let him go. Being Hanan, she believed in nothing after. She would not grant him quick oblivion..
He lay on the soft down mattress of Hnes’s luxury and stared into the dark, and slept only the hours just before dawn, troubled by dreams he could not clearly remember.
The wind bore fair for the north now, warm from the Tamur Basin. The blue sail drew taut and Tavi’s bow lanced through the waves, cutting their burning blue to white foam. •
Still Kta looked often astern, and whether his concern was more for Gan t’Hnes or for t’Tefur, Kurt was not sure.
“It is out of our hands,” Kurt said finally.
“It is out of our hands,” Kta agreed with yet another look aft. There was nothing. He bit at his lip. “Ei, ei, at least he will not be with us through the Thiad.”
“The Necklace. The Lesser Isles.” Kurt knew them by repute, barren crags strung across the Ome Sin’s narrowest waters, between Indresul and Nephane and claimed by neither side successfully. They were a maze by fair weather, a killer of ships in storms. “Do we go through it or around?”
“Through if the weather favors us. To Nephane’s side- wider waters there-if the seas are rough. I do not treat Indresul’s waters with the familiarity the Isles-folk use. Well, past that barrier we are free, my friend, free as the north seas and their miserable ports allow us.”