thank-you. 'But why did you stop guarding us?' she said.
'I received new orders,' he said. 'When you get to be as old as I am, your Emperor must consider how he will replace you. I was given the honor of training a new generation of the Imperial Guard. You were but five or six. Now that training is complete, and in his generosity the Emperor has allowed me to protect his favorite admiral-and new ambassador-one last time.'
'Was it you who shot that man in my garden, then?'
Ott shook his head, pursing his lips with regret. 'Merely a man who works for me. The intruder should have been kept alive, and questioned. But my man feared for your safety.'
How could he, Thasha wondered, with Jorl and Suzyt holding that ragged stranger in their teeth? But before she could ask, she noticed Ott glancing up and down the passage. Certain they were alone, he reached into his pocket and drew out-
'My necklace!' Thasha cried. 'Commander! How in the world did you get it?'
'I'm old, Lady, but still quick.' Ott grinned and raised a sleeve: there was a fresh, deep scratch on his forearm. 'That Sniraga is a hell-cat, but I caught her tail and spanked her till she howled, and made her let go of this pretty thing. I knew it from your mother's neck, you see. Won't you let me fasten it anew?'
Thasha turned and lifted her hair. 'I'll never let it out of my sight again,' she said as Ott sealed the clasp. 'Oh, Commander, thank you! My father said you were a good man, but I had no idea.'
'You flatter me, Lady. But I should prefer your trust. For your father's sake, tell me all that troubles you about the Lady Syrarys. Hold nothing back, I beseech you.'
So Thasha did. Once she began to speak, she realized how little she actually knew for certain. Syrarys had pretended to love Thasha as a girl, and discarded her once her place in the household was secure. She had pretended to miss Thasha when she vanished into the Lorg, pretended to be worried about her father's health (why had no doctor besides Chadfallow ever come to see him?), pretended to want nothing from life but a place at his side.
'But it's not true. She wants much more. And now she pretends to visit the powder room each night after dinner, but doesn't. She's going somewhere else.'
'Tonight, for instance?' said Ott.
'Tonight she did go,' admitted Thasha unhappily.
'Ah,' said Ott.
'You think I'm a fool.'
Ott shook his head. 'On the contrary. I am humbled by your insight.'
'Don't say that unless you mean it,' she pleaded. 'Commander Nagan, this isn't the babble of a jealous daughter. Promise me you'll take this seriously!'
Sandor Ott took her hand. 'Forty-eight years have I served the Ametrine Throne,' he said. 'I was just your age when I took the oath, at the feet of His Supremacy's grandfather. Mind and marrow, bone and blood, to strive till my hand drop the sword and my soul leave the flesh. For Arqual, her glory and gain. Believe me, Lady Thasha: I take nothing more seriously than that.'
The Miracle of Tears
5 Modoli 941
53rd day from Etherhorde
A gray dawn came, and rain soon after. Thunderheads brooded on Cape Ultu; Firecracker Frix watched them nervously through a telescope. Beyond that cape lay Uturphe, but Mr. Elkstem took no chances and steered a wide course around its rocky point. A hundred sailors sighed at his orders, but no one cursed him. Elkstem's nose for safety was legendary.
Once around the cape the rain grew stronger. Hatches were battened down; frantic tarboys swabbed rainwater off the deck. The town when it appeared was less than heartwarming: behind its green granite wall, iron towers and pointed rooftops stood like files of teeth. From his cabin window, Eberzam Isiq studied cold, closed Uturphe and thought, No place to look for doctors.
The town lacked a deepwater channel, so at a distance of two miles the order came to furl sails and drop anchor. Around the mainmast a handful of men in oilskin coats roared their disapproval. These were whiskey and brass merchants, desperate to buy as much as they could for resale in the west. Before the anchor struck bottom they were clustered about Mr. Fiffengurt. When might the boats be launched? How bad would the storm be? How many men could he spare for rowers? How long would they stay?
'Stand off, gentlemen!' he growled. 'We've a life to save if we can.'
Hercуl was carried out by Isiq's honor guard. Rain battered his face, and Thasha held his cold hand, weeping: he looked dead already. For the first time, Fiffengurt thought he might like one of the noble-born youths. Most were ninnies who wailed if their soup wasn't salted or their jackets brushed. One day of tarboy labor and galley grub would teach them to appreciate good fortune. But Lady Thasha was a different sort. She was crying, yes, but silently, and she made no complaints. The quartermaster cocked his head sideways, to see her better.
'You be brave now, Lady,' he said. 'Everything possible will be done for Mr. Hercуl.'
'That it will be,' said Sandor Ott.
The boat was lowered, with Ott and Fiffengurt side by side in the bow, and the men pulled for shore. Thasha felt suddenly that she would never lay eyes on Hercуl again, and not wanting her last memory of him to be that white, deathly face, she turned away. If she had not, she might have noticed that one of the honor guards did not row with his right arm, but only moved it stiffly, even painfully, in time with the oar.
Merchants were crowding, jostling to be next into a boat. One cackled beside her: 'No one will eat crayfish in Uturphe tonight-no one! I bought them all. I can sell them on Rukmast for four times what I pay these beggars. A few didn't want to sell, but the duke of Uturphe persuaded them-fishermen's huts are quite flammable, you know, and the duke only asked ten percent for his services.'
'Very reasonable,' said another.
'Very! Oh, when will that fool let us land? I tell you I bought them all.'
Disgusted, Thasha turned-and nearly collided with Pazel Pathkendle.
He was being hustled aft by two enormous soldiers. He had a soggy bundle in his arms and wore an old coat with a red patch at the elbow. No hat, no shoes. His brown hair was plastered flat by the rain.
He offered a weary smile. 'You got your necklace back.'
The soldiers appeared ready to cuff him for his familiar tone, but one look at Thasha changed their minds.
'I tried to make Prahba keep you,' she said. 'He just wouldn't listen.'
Pazel shrugged. 'I didn't listen either, did I? Where's Neeps, do you know?'
Thasha nodded. 'He's working the pumps. Six hours-a punishment from Swellows. For fighting, I think.'
'Tell him I said to cut that out,' said Pazel, shaking his head. Then he looked at her and switched to Opaltik. 'Don't forget what Ramachni said. There's an evil mage aboard, and someone else coming soon-someone even worse. Be careful, Thasha. And try to remember me, will you?'
Thasha could barely summon her school-taught Opaltik. What's wrong with me? she thought, blinking.
'Someone worse, yes,' she muttered.
'I'm sorry about all this, Thasha,' he said.
'Sorry you?' She shook her head, furious with her clumsy tongue. 'Why are you feeling it? I have no ideas.'
Shivering and drenched, Pazel laughed. 'You have too many.'
The soldiers pushed him forward. Merchants and sailors were crowding into the second boat, but one bench was empty still.
'I have to tell you something,' said Pazel. 'Get closer.'
'I have to tell you something,' Thasha mimicked. But she could not say it in Opaltik, and when he looked her in the eye she found she could not say it at all.
