alive and that he was not, after all, guilty of her murder.
He returned to the others and told Althak to ask Astae about that promised bath and then he and Bolythak could go and organise the boat for the next day. The local fishing boats would not do, but freighters worked their way up and down this coast and they usually called at Lianar. Astae would be able to direct them to the right people.
Astae, it appeared, had some trouble about the bath. He was quite nervous when he eventually led Menish out of the room and into another much smaller room. When he saw it Menish groaned in disappointment.
The Relanese were always bathing. They constructed huge bathrooms with pools and hypocausts to heat them. Such luxuries had spread to Anthor and the palace at Meyathal boasted two such bathrooms, but in Anthor the need for cleanliness was subservient to the inconvenience of carrying and heating water. Here, in the wild north lands, the Relanese had constructed a bathroom for the use of pilgrims to the Tor. It was not a very elaborate one. The pool was small and the mosaic work on the walls was roughly done, but it was a bathroom all the same.
What made Menish groan was the Vorthenki adaptation of it. Astae had not had the pool filled with water and heated with the hypocaust, it was possible he did not know how such things worked. Instead he had placed a copper tub in the empty pool and filled that. It looked ridiculous.
Astae managed a worried smile when Menish told him it would be satisfactory, for there was something obviously wrong. The Vorthenki did not normally find it necessary to wash.
But it was satisfactory. Menish sank his weary limbs into the hot water and felt the warmth soothe away the last vestiges of pain in his leg. There was no soap, of course, not even any of the coarse sand he had heard was used in Golshuz instead. It did not matter. The heat of the water was what he needed most.
Unfortunately when he emerged he realised that there were no towels and he had to pull his clothes on over his wet body. It was a minor inconvenience but it spoilt his comfort.
When he returned to the main room he found that Drinagish had been drinking too much and was singing. The others were trying to ignore him although he was clutching Grath’s shoulder and singing in his ear. Hrangil was trying, unsuccessfully, to talk to Azkun.
Menish sent Drinagish off to the bathroom in the hope that he would sober up before he made a greater fool of himself and then asked Bolythak where Althak was.
“He found a relative of his, a cousin of some sort named Akarth. He was asked to spend the night in his house. Althak said it would offend his cousin if he refused and he'll join us in the morning.”
“What about the ship to Atonir?”
“Yes, Sire, we found a man named Awan who's sailing early tomorrow. He's making for somewhere called Ramuz. Althak says he can take us on to Atonir from there. He said we must be ready before first light. I think Awan had read some Vorthenki omens about the time to sail.”
“I think it has something to do with the tide rather than omens,” said Hrangil. “There's a shallow place at the mouth of the harbour here that's easier to cross when the tide is high.” Apart from Althak, Hrangil was the only one of them who knew anything about the sea. “I think Ramuz is an island not far from Atonir. We passed it when I last came here.”
“It is the Vorthenki isle,” said Menish. “Sinalth launched his invasion from Ramuz and it's never been subdued by the Emperor. It's a lawless place I've heard, much like here.”
When Drinagish returned Menish told Astae that they would sleep in the bathroom rather than the main room. Many of the Vorthenki were already stretched out on straw pallets, a few of them had procured Astae’s women and their activities, conducted with no attempt at privacy, were offensive.
Astae was surprised at this when he was told, but he went about fetching them straw pallets and the coarsely woven woollen blankets that the Vorthenki used. Menish discarded the blankets immediately in favour of the ones he had brought with him. At least he knew the bugs in his own blankets, he had no wish to be introduced to any new ones.
They would have to rise early, so Menish rolled himself in his blankets and went to sleep immediately.
He slept long and dreamlessly until a gentle hand shook him by the shoulder. Clambering out of his unconsciousness he focused on Hrangil.
“Sire, we must rise. Althak says this ship must sail early.”
Menish nodded and sat up. Looking around him he saw that Althak had returned. Bolythak and Grath were packing their gear and Drinagish was combing his hair, complaining about the fleas he had found in his blankets.
“They cannot have been Vorthenki fleas,” said Althak, so seriously that Drinagish had to ask why. “Because Vorthenki fleas are as big as rats.” He laughed. “The fleas you have must be poor, stunted Anthorian things. You brought them with you.”
Bolythak and Grath laughed heartily at that but Drinagish retreated into his dignity.
Menish stood up and was pleased to find his leg was as good as ever. That was a small mercy he would be grateful for on this sea voyage. The thought of it, now that it was so near, set his stomach churning.
“So, we have a boat to Atonir. Grath and Drinagish can return to Meyathal with the horses and take news of where we have gone-”
“Uncle, am I not to go to Atonir?”
“You want to go?”
“Of course. I've only been there once before.”
“Drinagish,” said Hrangil carefully, “we are travelling by sea.”
“I know.”
“It's preferable to avoid danger to both king and heir at the same time,” said Menish. “How dangerous is it, Althak?”
The Vorthenki shrugged.
“The greatest danger is from pirates, or sea raiders, that operate from the coasts between here and Gomol. They're rarely well armed. There are storms, too, but few at this time of year.”
“Then there's not enough danger for caution after all,” said Menish. “Bolythak can return with Grath, Drinagish can come with us.”
Drinagish looked delighted, Hrangil looked dubious at Menish’s decision. Bolythak looked relieved.
“When you reach Meyathal you are to tell Adhara everything you have seen, but no one else. Let her be the judge of who else is to know. And…” he hesitated, “tell Adhara to feed the nightingale for me.”
Menish saw Drinagish smirking and Hrangil nodding slowly in comprehension at his reference to an old love poem. The others kept their faces carefully blank.
“Well, are we ready? Is everything packed?”
“Yes, M’Lord. We've already placed what we'll need for the voyage on board the ship. What's left is for Grath and Bolythak.” Two bundles lay on the floor.
“Then let's start.”
As they passed through the main room Astae accosted them.
“You’re not leaving yet, M’Lords? With no breakfast in your stomachs? I have some fish-”
“No,” said Menish. “We're travelling by sea. I fear the food wouldn't be with us long.”
“Ah! You get the sea retch? I have a concoction of herbs that is renowned-”
Menish shook his head.
“It is made of fennel and dock, isn't it?”
Astae nodded.
“I've tried it. Not only does it taste foul but it makes the ‘sea retch’ even worse.” To Astae’s crestfallen look he added. “It was well meant, my friend. Here, this is for your trouble.” Menish reached into the leather pouch at his belt and drew out two gold coins.
Astae’s mouth dropped open and snapped shut before Menish could blink. Then he was all bows and fawning again.
“Thank you, M’Lord. Thank you.”
Fortunately he was interrupted by the outside door opening and a wet, bedraggled youth entered. He glanced about him until he found Althak.
“M’Lord, Awan says we must sail soon.”
