At Ronan’s hut, Mairva efficiently gathered up provisions—^iried fruits and meat, a rolled length of canvas-like material, hunting implements—and arranged them in a large pack made of tanned hide. The ve’laik’in tossed Cynara a heavy shirt and trousers woven of animal wool much like her vest. Cynara helped Ronan dress and settled the pack over her shoulders.
Annukki appeared at the door, ears cocked behind to catch any sounds of pursuit. Another black-barred shaaurin joined her.
“Human,” Annukki said, “This one is Va Riko, also Ronan’s… friend.” She spoke the word gingerly, testing its strangeness. “He it was who made Va Samit think of challenge. Va Riko bids me tell that a ship comes to the port. There you must go.”
“A ship?” She glanced at Ronan, who remained unresponsive. “What ship?”
“We do not know. But you must leave Ain’Kalevi-ja. Aino’Va Samit let you go, but she cannot guarantee safety from Darja.”
None of the possibilities looked promising. Trying to survive in the wilderness was not Cynara’s idea of a tenable long-term solution. If the newly arrived ship were any kind of shaauri vessel, it wouldn’t be likely to provide sanctuary to a pair of humans—especially when Ronan was incapable of communication.
But if it were the Kinsmen’s ship… she might have bargaining power.
“Show me the right direction,” she said. “I’ll take Ronan there.”
“Ve Mairva and I will accompany you,” Annukki said. “Come.”
Cynara followed the two shaauri to the edge of the settlement. Distant noise hinted at ongoing conflict in the arena, but no one had yet come looking for the errant humans.
Ronan fell into a steady pace beside her, gazing straight ahead. She concentrated on the path that led up the hill and into the forest. A few small, white flakes of snow powdered her shoulders and the shaauri’s fur. She had a sudden, vivid memory of Bifrost, and Ronan virtually naked in the howling fury of a perpetual storm.
He was responsible for that storm and the turmoil that followed. He’d been nothing but trouble since the day he’d come aboard the Pegasus. If she had it to do over again…
She shook such irrelevant speculation from her mind like the snow from her hair. Sometime later Mairva signaled a halt, and they paused at the edge of a familiar clearing.
On the other side lay the spaceport buildings, the landing field, and the ship. Cynara recognized it as some kind of shaauri vessel, but its markings were indecipherable to her eyes.
“I must find out who they are,” she said to Annukki. “Can you identify the ship if we go closer?”
The shaaurin indicated agreement, and all of them, including Ronan, crouched in the tall grass. They worked their way forward, Mairva in the lead, until they had a clearer view of the ship and the several figures moving on the ground beside it.
Human figures.
“Kinsmen,” Annukki hissed.
Cynara settled onto her haunches, drawing Ronan down beside her. “You see how it is,” she said coolly, as if he might answer. “Your friends have made it clear that we won’t be welcome in the settlement, and Darja will keep coming after us. Even if you were in your right senses, I don’t know how long we could live off the land with little hope of rescue.” She laughed. “We did want the Kinsmen to take the false intelligence. Now we have our chance.”
Ronan blinked, and the first flicker of life came into his eyes. “Yes,” he croaked. “Let them take us.”
Mairva moved closer and spoke to Ronan in a low voice. He reached out, palm up, and she laid her huge hand over his. After a moment he exchanged the same gesture with Annukki.
“Kei’lai, ” the shaaurin said. She looked at Cynara. “Ancestors watch and guide.” With only the faintest rustle of dried grasses, she and Mairva vanished.
‘They go back,” Ronan said, staring at the Kinsman ship. “They have done all they can.”
“Can you do what needs to be done?”
“Yes.”
‘There’s a good chance they’ll realize the intelligence is a trap.”
“They will not discover it from me. But you have lost the barriers the Persephoneans put into your mind.”