“The location of the drug!”
“I know where a great store of it lies, and you need not persuade either my husband or my child. I will tell you without that. I ask only that you let me see him, alone, for a little time.”
The Chieftain met her limpid gaze with a hard, brittle glare of his own. “A very little time. Ogberd, take her.”
They went out into the glare of the sun and down a line of tents to a small one where Aufors slumped in a disconsolate huddle against a roll of blankets. Genevieve went in and laid the baby beside him. He looked up, saw her face, and turned a furious red, a shamed red, then turned his face away from her, shuddering.
“I’ll wait,” said Ogberd, sneering. “Don’t look like I’ll be long.” Genevieve turned toward him, saying, “Out of earshot. Please, let us have some privacy.”
He shrugged and walked to a nearby tent where Terceth sat cross-legged in the opening, and they two were soon joined by Lokdren, who gestured toward Aufors’s tent and said, “What do you think, her wandering in like that?”
“I think Father’ll kill her if she crosses him,” Ogberd offered. Lokdren shook his head. “I think she’s going to tell him where the stuff is.”
“Why would she?” Ogberd asked.
“Because she knows something we don’t,” Terceth spoke from his place in the shade of the tent flap. “I’ve been thinking about what happened south of here. I think we’re making a mistake. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Ogberd snorted. “Oh, for the love of Hotipah, you don’t believe that stuff about sacrificing women, do you? She made all that up, just to put us off!”
Terceth replied, “Oh, yes, I believe it. The two Havenites in there, they knew she spoke truth, and so did Father. That’s why he’s so angry. He has his mind set on doing anything he needs to do to get the stuff, and she knows that if we’ve decided to do that, then we’ve changed the kind of people we are—or thought we were.”
“Life is change,” sneered Ogberd. “We’ll be whatever kind of people we need to be.”
Terceth murmured, “I’d like to know who’s thismentor she talks about?”
“It doesn’t exist,” said Ogberd. “She’s trying a bluff. By Hotipah, Terceth, sharpen up! Don’t you care if Ares dies? If our family dies?”
“Ares died a long time ago, and when Father commanded that iron to be heated and you put it against that old man’s chest, so did we,” said Terceth.
Ogberd stalked away at that, Lokdren following him, leaving Terceth to sit alone, brooding over the two across the way.
Inside the tent, Aufors had gone on staring, either unable or unwilling to speak.
“I told you I’d come back,” she whispered. “Aufors, talk to me!”
He drew a deep breath, put his hand on her hair, still sodden from the sea, hanging in long strands around her face. There was seaweed in it, and the smell of the ocean was on her.
He said, “Awhero told me . . .”
“Told you what, dear one?”
“Shetold me … so you needn’t pretend anymore.”
Puzzled, beginning to feel angry, she said, “Told what? Pretend what?”
“I’ve found out about Dovidi. Do you know who his father is? Does anyone know who his father is?”
She staggered back from him, as though he had slapped her. “Aufors, this child is your son.”
“He couldn’t be my son. No. Half fish. That’s what Awhero said. He’s half fish. It’s all been . . . it’s all been some kind of mystery . . .”
She took a deep breath, clenching her fists. “Do you remember your mother?”
“Not well,” he gulped, astonished.
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
“Only from her picture. In the hallway at home.”
“You had a copy of that portrait with you on the ship, when we came here.”
“In my wallet. It’s . . . still there.”
“Where is it? In this pack. Good.” She rummaged among his belongings, coming up with the familiar folder. “Look at it, Aufors.”
He opened it with fumbling fingers, finding the picture with some difficulty. He took it out and stared at it, looking from it to Genevieve with puzzled eyes.