“Welcome to Duna,” Achati declared, gesturing toward the port ahead.
The Inava was sailing toward a wide valley. On either side, cliffs rose in staggered, weathered layers. In the centre, a wide, muddy river poured out into the sea, the grey-brown water cutting a swathe through the salt water for some distance before it mixed with the ocean.
Achati had been not entirely accurate in his declaration. The valley was not the beginning of the Duna lands. The ship had been sailing past them for the last few days, though there was no agreed boundary point. The valley ahead was where most visitors disembarked when they arrived by sea, and it was the closest thing the Duna had to a capital city.
Unlike the dry land and rough cliffs they had seen to their left for most of the journey, the valley was green with vegetation. Houses had been built on high stilts, the level of floodwaters suggested by stains on the wood high above the height of a man. Ladders provided access to some, while rough staircases made of bundled and bound-together logs had been added to others. The gathering of huts was called Haniva, and the valley was known as Naguh Valley.
The captain called out to the slaves, who began to scamper around the ship. The anchor went down and sails were furled.
“We can’t come any closer,” Achati explained. “The silt from the yearly floods makes the water too shallow. Occasionally storms pass through and wash the build-up away, but since they’d probably destroy any dock we might build it’s not worth trying to keep the bay clear with magic.”
When the ship was secure, the slaves lowered a smaller row-boat down to the water. Dannyl, Tayend and Achati thanked the captain, then climbed down a rope ladder into it. Once on shore, they waited for the slaves to return to the ship for their travel trunks and followed as they carried these into Haniva.
The town had no streets, just trails kept clear by the passing of feet, and the houses appeared to be randomly placed – often in groups connected by narrow walkways. Floods were obviously not expected for some time, Dannyl guessed from the crops growing around the houses. These were planted in a way that allowed room for the enormous trees, from which fruit hung in bunches. Each was a single smooth trunk topped with either an umbrella-like mass of branches, or an explosion of huge leaves. Tall spikes shooting from the ground puzzled Dannyl at first, until he saw a few larger ones sprouting leaves, and realised they were the sapling versions of the trees, throwing all their energy into growing tall enough to escape flood waters before putting out foliage.
As they passed people walking in the field, he noticed that their skin and build was somewhere between the stocky brown typical of Sachakans and the grey slim build of the tribesmen. He assumed there had been some interbreeding of the races over the centuries. Settling in towns was not the usual habit of the Duna tribes, from what Dannyl had read or been told. They were a nomadic people.
Perhaps these people could be considered another race, he thought. Maybe called “Naguhs” or “Hanivans”.
After they had passed a few dozen houses, the slaves headed toward a group of buildings standing alone in a field. It was immediately obvious that these were different, despite being constructed of the same building materials and raised on stilts. Their arrangement was symmetrical, with one house in the centre three times the size of the local homes, and smaller buildings arranged around the sides and rear, all accessed by a walkway. A single wide stairway led up to the central house, and the path that led to it was straight. As the slaves reached it they stopped and waited for Achati, Dannyl and Tayend to climb up ahead of them.
Climbing the stairs changed not only the view of the town, but the way Dannyl viewed it. He could see more houses, and the people in them, as well as the workers in the fields. Suddenly Haniva felt far more populated and town-like.
A house slave emerged and threw himself face down on the wooden deck at the top of the stairs.
“Take me to Ashaki Vakachi, or whoever speaks for him when he is absent,” Achati ordered.
The man leapt to his feet and led them inside. The inner walls had been painted white and led down a corridor to a large room. Like a typical Sachakan home, except the walls are straight. In the Master’s Room, a man stood waiting for them. His skin had a hint of dusky grey to it, and his shoulders were narrow, hinting at a touch of Duna in his blood.
“Welcome, Ashaki Achati,” the man said, then as Achati thanked him he turned to his two companions. “And you must be Ambassadors Dannyl and Tayend.”
“We are,” Dannyl replied. “And we are honoured to be staying with you.”
The man invited them to sit. “I have arranged for a light meal to be served, then you each will be taken to your own obin – one of the detached houses you no doubt noticed on your arrival. They are a local idea, usually added for the use of a son after he is married, or an elderly relative after the son inherits the house, but also to keep an eye on unmarried young men and women.”
“Is this a Duna tradition?” Tayend asked.
Vakachi shrugged. “It is and it isn’t. The tribe of Naguh Valley have their own traditions, different to the rest of the Duna. Though they are a settled tribe, and more civilised than their cousins, they are regarded as inferiors and pay tribute to those of the escarpment.”
“Is it possible that any of them are Keepers of the Lore?” Dannyl asked.
Vakachi spread his hands. “I couldn’t say for sure. Since the Keepers remain hidden by living ordinary lives and saying nothing of their status, there could be some here but nobody knows it.” He smiled. “No, your best chance to meet one is to climb up to the escarpment and seek one among the full blood tribes. Not that your chances are good even then. The Duna have a unique and effective habit of being uncooperative.”
“So I have heard, and read,” Dannyl said.
Vakachi nodded. “Still, it’s possible a foreigner will have greater luck than a Sachakan. I have arranged transportation to the escarpment for you all, setting out tomorrow. It will take a few days. In the meantime,” he gestured to the slaves filing into the room, “eat, rest and be welcome.”
CHAPTER 23
GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS
As Sonea entered the treatment room, Dorrien looked closely at her and frowned.
“You look pale,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she told him as she sat down.
“How long has it been since you saw sunlight?”
Sonea considered. She’d been working the night shift for some weeks now, only taking time off to meet with Cery. The morning after the failed attempt to catch Skellin had been the last time she’d seen sunlight, though surely—
“If it’s been so long you have to think about it this much, it’s been too long,” Dorrien told her sternly.
Sonea shrugged. “The short winter days mean it’s dark when I leave the Guild.”
“If you wait until the days get longer, you might not see the sun for weeks.” He crossed his arms. “You’re like some sort of creepy nocturnal creature, and the impression isn’t helped by the black robes and black magic.”
She smiled. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”
He chuckled. “Not one bit. But I’d hesitate to invite you over to dinner. You might scare the girls.”
“Hmm … it’s probably my turn to host a dinner.”
“You don’t have to take a turn,” he told her. “You’ve got too many other things on your mind. Have you heard from Cery lately?”
She shook her head. “Just a few cryptic messages. He believes Lorandra will have joined Skellin by now.”
“How is Kallen’s search for Lilia and Naki going?”
“He and his assistants have printed out flyers with drawings and descriptions of the girls, and hired people to hand them out around the city. A few have reported seeing one or both of the girls, but none of the sightings has led him to either of them.”
“People have seen Naki? At least that means she’s alive.”
“If the girl they saw was Naki. Still, the Guard
hasn’t found any bodies of young women that look like her.”
Dorrien looked thoughtful. “We should put some of those flyers up in the hospices.”
Sonea nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“I’ll send a messenger to Kallen before I leave. Pity we didn’t get a picture drawn of Lorandra before she escaped.”
“Her appearance is much more distinctive than the girls’, and so is Skellin’s, but the descriptions we put out of those two haven’t attracted any reports of sightings.”
“No, I suppose—”
A knock at the door interrupted him. Sonea turned in time to see it swing open. Healer Gejen nodded to her politely.
“Black Magician Sonea,” he said politely, before turning to Dorrien. “Your wife is here to see you, Lord Dorrien.”
“Tell her I’ll be out as soon as I’ve finished briefing Sonea,” Dorrien replied.
As the door closed, Dorrien sighed. “I was wondering how long it would take before she gathered the courage to check on me here.”
“Check on you?”
“Yes. To make sure we’re not up to anything she wouldn’t approve of.”
Sonea shook her head. “I don’t understand. What does she think we do here? Is she afraid I’ll corrupt you?”
“In a way.”
“She thinks I might teach you black magic?” Sonea threw up her hands in exasperation. “How can I convince her to trust me?”
“It’s not that she distrusts you. She’s in awe of you. And she’s jealous.”
She looked at Dorrien. He wore an expression she had seen before. Before she could put a name to it, he spoke again.
“It’s me she doesn’t trust.”
“You? Why ever not?” “Because …” He paused, then looked at her as if meeting her gaze was difficult.
“Because she knows that if there was ever a chance you and I could be together, I’d take it.”
She stared at him, surprised and shocked. Suddenly she understood the look on his face. Guilt. And a cautious longing. An answering guilt rose up within her and she had to look away. All these years, and he has never stopped wanting me. I thought he had, when he met and married Alina. I was relieved to be free of the burden of not returning his feelings.
She had been caught up in grief then, still in love with a man she had lost. There had been no room in her heart to consider another.
Was there now?
No, she thought, but a traitorous feeling rose to contradict that thought. Panic rose but she pushed it aside. I can’t desire Dorrien, she told herself. He is married. It will only make things awkward and painful for all of us. She needed to say something that would end the possibility before it had a chance to take root in her mind. Something tactful, but clear. Something … But she couldn’t think of the right words.
Dorrien stood up. “There. I’ve said it. I …” He broke off as she looked up and met his eyes, then smiled crookedly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finished. He moved to the door, opened it and left the room.
It doesn’t matter what I say, she realised. This is already awkward and painful, and has been for months. I’m just a latecomer to the situation.
Cery’s home was a hole in the ground. However, it was a surprisingly luxurious hole, with all the comforts of an Inner City mansion. It was so luxurious that it was easy for Lilia to forget that she was underground. The only reminder was the small size of the place – it contained only a few rooms – and lack of servants.
Hiring servants would have meant people coming and going, and that would defeat the purpose of having a secret location. Cery’s bodyguard, Gol, had assured her that there were food supplies like dried beans and grains, salted meat and preserved fruit and vegetables stored here in case it became too dangerous to leave. She had never seen anyone cook them. Instead, Gol brought fresh food to the hideout every few days.
Now that Lilia and Anyi were staying there, he had to bring more food more often, which must have made it harder to keep the hideout location secret, or perhaps just have increased the risk that someone would recognise and follow him. Cery had been very insistent that they stay, however. Anyi had argued with him, and lost.
It had amazed Lilia to see how uncowed Anyi was around her employer, considering that he was a Thief. The young woman expressed a mix of loyalty, protectiveness and defiance, and he tolerated the latter with surprising patience. Instead of exerting his will with orders and discipline, he deftly skirted around her demands or objections.
To get Anyi to agree to stay, he didn’t bother trying. He simply turned to Lilia and suggested a deal: he would help her find Naki and keep her hidden from both the Guild and Skellin in exchange for her protecting him and Anyi. She had agreed.
The best way to protect Anyi, it turned out, was to make her stay in the hideout. The easiest way Lilia found to ensure that was to stay in the hideout herself. However, it wasn’t that easy. The more Anyi felt cooped up, the more she spent her excess energy on arguing. Gol’s return with the evening meal had her circling him eagerly.
“Have you seen any sign that Lorandra or Jemmi or Rek are looking for me or Lilia?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, stepping around her and placing a sack on the low table between the guest room chairs.
Anyi turned to Cery. “See? Surely if they’d made the connection they’d be looking for us.”
“Skellin’s not stupid,” Cery replied. “He knows that either you’re with me or out in the city on your own. If you’re on your own the chances are greater that someone will see you and report it to him. If you’re with me … well, he’s already got plenty of people looking for me.”
“But what if Rek didn’t tell Lorandra that I used to work for you?”
“What else is he likely to tell her, and Jemmi, to convince them that you taking Lilia away wasn’t his idea in the first place?”
“He might only have told Jemmi.”
Cery pointed at a chair. “Sit, Anyi,” he ordered.
She obeyed, but continued to stare at him while Gol began removing well-wrapped packets out of the sack and tearing them open. The extra wrapping was to reduce the smell of food escaping and acting as a trail through the tunnels to the hideout. Delicious smells filled the room.
“Jemmi will have told Lorandra you must have been my spy, in the hopes of convincing her there was no plot,” Cery continued. “Like it or not, Anyi, they know your betrayal was faked. You’re stuck here with me.”
Lilia felt a pang of sympathy as Anyi’s shoulders slumped. Not the first time, she wondered if Anyi had told Cery of her encounter with Heyla.
“I didn’t hear that anyone is looking for you,” Gol told Anyi. “But I heard that people are looking for someone who, from your description, sounds like Naki. They’re not our people, or the Guild, I think. They’re people she really wouldn’t want finding her, I reckon.”
Lilia sat up straight. “Someone else is looking for her?”
Gol nodded, then looked at Cery. The Thief’s eyes narrowed.
“So the race begins,” he said.
“Who is looking for her?” Lilia asked. “And why?”
“Skellin,” Cery answered. “It’s no secret that Naki is missing, and that she and Lilia tried to learn black magic. The fact that Naki didn’t succeed only makes her a slightly less appealing captive than Lilia. She can still tell Skellin everything she read and did. After all, if Lilia succeeded with the same information, there’s a chance he would too. If he doesn’t,” Cery looked at Lilia and grimaced, “he knows Lilia cares about Naki. He’ll try to blackmail her into teaching him, in exchange for Naki.”
“We have to find Naki first,” Anyi said.
“Yes.” Cery smiled thinly. “Skellin’s search for her might help us. I have people watching his people. If his look like they’ve found answers, mine will ask the same questions. If his look like they’re about to search somewhere, mine will be watching, ready to help Naki escape.”
A bell chimed
somewhere behind the walls. Cery looked at Gol, who gave the opened packets of food a look of regret.
“We’ll save you some,” Cery promised.
The big man sighed and hurried to the hidden door built into the panelling in the room. Anyi rose and grabbed some plates and cutlery from a side cabinet, handed them out, then joined in as Lilia and Cery began to serve themselves and eat. Gol had brought several river fish baked in a salty-sweet sauce, plus roasted winter vegetables and freshly baked bread.
Soon afterwards, Gol returned. This time it was Cery who looked disappointed, as he and Gol left. Once they were alone together, Lilia looked at Anyi.
“Do you think Heyla is out there, telling people she saw us?”
Anyi’s expression darkened. “Probably. She’s done it before. She’ll get herself into more trouble than she realises if she does.”
“Does Cery know about her?”
“Kind of.” Anyi looked pained. “I started working for Cery after Heyla and me weren’t friends any more. I told him a friend had tried to sell me out, but I didn’t tell him who she was.”
“If you weren’t working for Cery, how did she know about him?”
Anyi paused, then shook her head. “Oh, I knew of him. Distantly. Anyway … I’d rather not talk about her.”
Lilia nodded. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
Anyi looked up at Lilia but didn’t smile. Instead she regarded her with a thoughtful expression that contained a hint of speculation.
“What?” Lilia asked.
“Nothing.” Anyi looked away, then back. “How close are you and Naki?”
Lilia looked down at her plate. “Very close. Well, not so close after she thought I’d killed her father.”
Anyi grimaced in sympathy. “Yes, that would test a friendship. Not just for her, thinking that you had done it. It must equally have hurt you that she could even suspect you of having done it.”