Dave Duncan – Perilous Seas – A Man of his Word. Book 3

Do what is right, not what feels right. No, it had not been her father who’d told her that. That had been one of Rap’s little homilies. Rap had been full of such sayings. She’d often teased him about them. The whole gang had teased Rap about his proverbs; not that teasing Rap had ever been difficult or even very satisfying, because he’d never seemed to mind much. He’d never lost his temper like a jotunn or screamed like an imp; he’d just shrugged and gone his own way.

Why should she be thinking of Rap now? Because of the chase? Because of running from the men in terror, as shed often run from Rap in play? She could well remember him catching her and pulling her down on the sand, and holding her there until she let him kiss her—when they’d been smaller, of course. Not in the last year or two. They’d only kissed once after kissing had become a serious activity.

Or was it because Rap had died for her, and now four more men had died because of her’? Maybe that was it.

And the sheik had already reached the dead horse, and Kade was clambering to her feet, decently dressed already, like Inos herself, but looking very bewildered.

Inos ran to her, and they hugged.

4

Elkarath was throwing power around by the barrelful. The dead horse vanished, and in its place appeared a bonfire, a pyramid of logs crackling and sparking and casting a welcome light. Then he created a circle of rugs around it.

“We have a little time to kill,” he said. “Let us enjoy this fine evening.” He glanced around the clearing. “There is no danger . . . yet.”

He sat down and crossed his legs, chuckling at the women’s exclamations of wonder. “Be seated, ladies! Now, have you a preference in wine, Highness?” His occult glow had faded away, and he was only a plump old man in a white robe and white headcloth. Firelight twinkled in his rubied headband.

“Oh, I defer to your expertise, Greatness,” Kade simpered, settling on one of the rugs and tucking her legs around in the usual Zarkian position, with no more than her usual stiffness. If she had sustained injuries in her fall, then obviously the sorcerer had cured them, and her previous uneasiness had gone completely.

How much her emotions were being suppressed Inos could not tell. It would not be out of character for Kade to survive even her recent ordeal without losing her poise. She had the barest trace of a tremor in her hands and her eyes were jumpy, but otherwise she was almost her old self. Indeed she was in much better spirits than she had been since entering Thume that morning. Whatever fears she had felt were apparently now dispelled by the guardian presence of the sheik.

Misted silver flasks of wine arrived beside each of them, and a first sip convinced Inos that the vintage was as fine as anything in Duke Angilki’s cellar, or Azak’s. It was cold, too, and even the Palace of Palms had trouble maintaining an adequate supply of snow for chilling the princes’ wine, snow brought from the mountains by fast camels.

Kade glanced around at the looming night. The treetops were dark fingers waving against the stars. “Those . . . er, ruffians?” She had been told that they had been disposed of, and had asked no questions. “They were pixies? Live pixies?”

The sheik nodded, sipping his wine. Snow-bearded, cheeks rouged by desert life, he seemed like everyone’s ideal grandpappy. His voice was slow and placid as a glacier. His eyes would twinkle under the heavy white brows once in a while; but to catch a real look at those eyes was almost impossible. Inos wondered whether his benevolent air was genuine, or if he was again projecting an occult glamour to fog her mind. Perhaps he did so automatically, without thinking, as a shopkeeper used politeness. “It would appear that there are still pixies living in Theme,” he agreed.

“Then there may be more of them around?” Again Kade eyed the darkness beyond the firelight.

“I strongly suspect that there must be women somewhere, as the race continues to thrive.” He chuckled. “And other males. And yes, they may seek vengeance.” He sipped his wine to heighten suspense. “There is a band approaching. They are coming upriver, but they are still a long way off. They may not know about us at all. If they bring a sorcerer against me, of course, then we are lost, but at the moment I detect no one within a league of us—other than a rather footsore young djinn snaking slow progress in the dark. I have kept him heading in the right direction,” he assured Inos, “and he can see the fire now.”

Inos shivered. Elkarath was human; he needed sleep and he could be deceived, as she had proved at Tall Cranes. How strong a defense could he maintain against the dangers of Thume? “But when these others arrive . . . how many?”

“I don’t know. Many.”

Why didn’t he know? “But even if you . . . if you deal with those, a whole army of pixies may creep up on us before dawn?” The old man shook his head, studying the condensation on his goblet. “We must be gone by dawn.”

Apparently he was not about to explain, and Inos felt a twinge of uneasiness.

Elkarath beamed, though, smiling toward each of his companions in turn, but indirectly. “Shall we dine, ladies?” Three silver dishes appeared, sparkling in the firelight, heaped with fragrant curry, vegetables, and snowy rice.

Inos knew that she was hungry, but her insides were still very quivery. Nevertheless, she had rejected Elkarath’s occult soothing, so she must keep up a pretense of calm. She reached for the food and promptly scalded her fingers. For a few minutes, silence : . .

“The . . . ruffians . . . did you no harm, Aunt?” she inquired between mouthfuls.

“No, dear. They shouted a lot of questions at me, but I could only understand about one word in four. So they gave up on me.” Even in the flickering firelight, Kade’s blush showed. “I’m afraid a fat old woman was of no interest to them. You were what they wanted.” She looked anxiously at her niece. Inos had assured her that there had been no lasting harm done, but even so . . .

“You were fortunate that they did not cut your throat at once, Highness,” Elkarath remarked placidly. “But I congratulate you on your diversionary exploit with the horse. I was near enough to observe, but not yet close enough to exert any influence. That was a rare display of courage, and of horsemanship.”

Kade blushed more deeply. “One does what one can,” she murmured.

“And I congratulate you on your skill at thali, also!”

“Oh, dear!” Kade turned redder than Inos had ever seen her and avoided her niece’s eye.

The sheik chuckled deeply. “Her Majesty the Sultana warned me to look out for you. I admit I had grown careless.” Curious! The sheik thought Kade had planned that little deception? For a moment Inos was tempted to claim the credit, and then decided to be discreet, for once. Odd, though! Why had Rasha been wary of Kade?

The conversation had strayed onto dangerous ground. For a while all three attended to their meal in a silence broken only by the busy crackling of the fire. Flame-tinged smoke drifted away in the wind, and sparks soared up to join the stars. Inos was still trembling from her experience with the pixies. The thought of a band of many others arriving was unnerving, but she was not going to start jumping at shadows, and if the old man was hoping to rattle her, then she would disappoint him. She told herself sternly that an encounter with the mythical pixies was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and this firelit picnic in a haunted forest was at least a memorable one. She did not need occult swaddling to let her enjoy herself, even if her mouth did seem drier than usual and swallowing harder.

“This curry is superb, Greatness,” she said.

“Thank you. My dear mother made it like this, you see.”

“And you have taught me that the protection of a sorcerer should not be discarded so lightly.”

“Ah!” He sighed. “I am no sorcerer, ma’am. I dearly wish I was, at the moment. You would not have escaped from a sorcerer so readily. ”

“Then . . . Not a sorcerer?” Inos looked at Kade and saw a reflection of her own astonishment.

“I am but a mage,” Elkarath said. “Like my grandfather before me, and his, also.”

“A votary of Sultana Rasha’s, though?”

He nodded—sadly, she thought. “That is so. She detected me before I knew of her existence. But I am content to serve her.”

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