He sat upon a convenient stone, arranging the food in easy reach and keeping one hand always upon the weapon.
Jorub and Kamakama set about reassembling the sled, carefully reinserting sand into those parts that would almost certainly guarantee a breakdown if they tried to go anywhere. When they had the mechanism in one piece, the Marshal told them to go out in single file, then Awhero, Melanie, and Genevieve. He wanted the motor reinstalled, he said, so he and Genevieve could get out of there and if the others behaved themselves, he would leave them unharmed. He came behind, weapon at the ready, only to be grabbed from behind the moment he emerged fully from the concealing stones.
“Drop it,” said Joncaster in an angry voice. “Sit on him, Etain, while I find something to tie him up. Gilber, you and Jorub get Aufors Leys into the cave where it’s cooler.”
There was a momentary confusion, threats from the Marshal, imprecations from Joncaster, moaning from Aufors, which caused a freshet of tears from Genevieve, after which they all returned to the cool of the cave, this time with the Marshal trussed up like a pig on its way to market. Genevieve immediately huddled over Aufors, willing him to open his eyes while Awhero bathed his face, arms, and chest with cool water from the spring.
“I heard Joncaster’s sled,” said Gilber to Melanie, in answer to a question. “So I ran down the shore to catch him before the Marshal heard him. We’d no sooner come up outside than you all came out!”
Aufors groaned and opened his eyes. He blinked several times and murmured, “Jenny?”
“Oh, yes, love. I’m here.”
“Dovidi . . .”
“He’s here, too.”
“Ah,” he said, licking his lips. “Dry . . .”
“Here’s water, love.”
“Tea,” he whispered. “I want lemon tea . . .” He tried to smile, failed, managed to get his hand onto hers, squeezed it, then lapsed into sleep once more.
She rose at once and went to the supplies, to search for tea. Meantime, Jorub and Etain dragged the Marshal back through the open area into the lengthy branch of the cavern that led to the crevasse used as a privy. They returned as Joncaster was saying:
“Among us and the other sleds, I’d guess we’ve moved all the bodies. What we don’t have is any information about where the stock of the stuff was kept . . .”
“Oh, yes,” murmured Awhero. “I know where P’naki was kept! So do Genevieve, and Aufors.”
Aufors, hearing his name, opened his eyes. “What?” he cried. “Jenny? What did she say?”
Genevieve was still across the cavern, and unthinkingly she called, “She said I know where the stuff is kept.” She put her hand over her mouth, guiltily, looking toward the back of the cavern.
Joncaster laid a finger over his lips, whispering, “What do you see happening in Haven?”
She replied softly. “I see nothing about P’naki. For some time I caught glimpses of the Lord Paramount. He was down in the caverns, singing to himself and eating something out of a jar. Licking it off his fingers. Now I see him curled in a dark corner somewhere, sleeping. I’ve seen him in that same position for a long time. As though he were carved. He doesn’t move.”
“Carved, eh?” said Awhero. “Now that’s odd and interestin’ . . .”
“Could it have been P’naki? A whole jar full?” wondered Joncaster in almost a whisper. “I’ve been wondering if too much of the stuff at once would do the same thing Aufors told us about.”
Genevieve rose, bringing the cup of tea she had brewed to Aufors’s side. “Awhero told Aufors about it, but she didn’t know it was men’s blood that did it.”
“How did you know?” Melanie asked Awhero. “And why didn’t you tell us?”
“Never had a chance until now,” said Awhero, going on to tell her story about the Old Friend, while Joncaster and Melanie listened with their mouths open, and Genevieve knelt above Aufors, feeding him sips of tea and pondering the existence of Old Friends with great concentration. She was about to ask Awhero an important question when a call from the entrance interrupted her. Jorub.