“They were supposed to take the ferry in from Port Chellah to meet us here,” Taziri said, forcing a pleasant smile. “But they weren’t on board. Maybe they got off at one of the locks?”
The boatman sighed and appeared to actually give the matter a moment’s thought. “Maybe. I don’t remember a guy in a red coat, but I think an old lady got off at the second lock. I didn’t notice what she was wearing.”
“Oh hey.” A second deckhand, farther up the street, turned to call down to them. “I know who you mean. Yeah, I saw her get off. Second lock, just like he said. Silver hair, right? Black and gold jacket, green dress. I helped her off the gangway.”
“Oh really?” Taziri forced herself to keep smiling. “That’s funny. Did she mention where she was going?”
“Nah, but there’s only the one path over the ridge from there, up to the highway to Khemisset. It’s a long walk, unless she managed to catch the two-thirty stage coach from Chellah to Khem.” The deckhand shrugged. “Course, if she was going to do that, why the hell did she get on the ferry in the first place?”
The two men joined their comrades in the inn, leaving Taziri and Ghanima to exchange confused looks.
“Now what?” Ghanima asked.
Taziri said, “Chaou got off, but the major didn’t. I guess we have to trust that the major is still following her. The only alternative is that he’s lost or dead.”
“Dead? Him? That seems pretty unlikely.”
They began walking back toward the field where the Halcyon waited. Taziri said, “I think we need to stop playing cat-and-mouse with the ambassador. We’re just wasting time now. We’ll go to Arafez so Kenan can turn Hamuy over to the marshals and organize a proper search party.”
“What about the Espani doctor?” Ghanima glanced at her. “Are you turning that over to the marshals too?”
Taziri wiggled her numb fingers. “No. That’s something I have to see to myself.”
“It’s not your fault, you know,” Ghanima said. “Other people took your idea and did bad things with it. That makes them the bad guys, not you.”
“Yeah, I know but…after all those other articles shot down my battery design, I decided to put my notes in the university archive anyway. I figured that someone else might want to see my work. Maybe they could come up with something better.” Taziri squeezed her left hand into a fist. “And I wanted the copy fees. It’s only ten percent, but it’s better than nothing. I had this fantasy that hundreds of other students would buy the copies and fix my battery design and I’d make enough to buy a bigger house.” She shook her head. “I was so stupid. Only one person ever bought the notes. I guess now we know who.”
Ghanima shrugged. “It’s still not your fault that bad people are doing bad things. You need to get over it.”
Taziri nodded to herself. “I’ll try.”
Chapter 20. Syfax
Cicadas creaked on both sides of the canal, filling the forest with a soft white noise that throbbed like an arboreal heart beat. Syfax jogged along the canal wall, never slowing, never stumbling, just putting one foot in front of the other and waiting for something to appear around the next bend. The first lock appeared in the distance and he approached it cautiously, waving to catch the attention of the two older women in the control house. They said the ferry had passed by more than half an hour ago, so Syfax wobbled across the top of the lock gates to the north side of the canal and jogged on.
The second lock appeared suddenly around a sharp bend as the major pushed through some thick branches that tried to shove him back into the dark water below. The lock operators were a young man and a young woman who exchanged nervous smiles a little too often, and Syfax was about to hurry on after they reported the ferry was over an hour ahead of him when the woman said, “You know, you’re probably better off taking the road.”
Syfax glanced around at the thick forest pressing close along the sides of the canal. “What road? A road to Nahiz?”
“Oh no, the road to Khemisset. I mean, there’s nothing in Nahiz. You’re not actually trying to go to Nahiz, are you?”
“No, I’m trying to catch up to someone on the ferry.”
“Oh?” A momentary frown of confusion darkened her smile. “That’s…different.” She suppressed a giggle. “You couldn’t get a horse?”
“I fell off the damn ferry,” he barked.
She flinched and her young man glared at him. “Hey, she was just trying to help. Unless your friend is actually going to Nahiz, then he’ll probably be in Khem long before you catch the ferry. You should just take the path up to the road.” He pointed roughly at the dirt track running perpendicular to the canal up into the trees. “It’s an easy hike. An old lady went up it earlier.”
“What old lady?” Syfax glanced at the path as though expecting to see someone on it.
“Some old lady got off the ferry and took the path up to the road. I told her she was crazy, but she said she would catch the stage coach from Chellah, and I said whatever, and she hasn’t come back yet so I guess she caught the coach. Or she’s walking to Khem.” The young man scowled and went back into the lock operator’s house.
“What did this lady look like?”
The woman shrugged. “Old. Short. Fancy shoes. Little earrings.” She shrugged again and followed her friend inside.
Syfax clenched his fist as his mind raced back to the Phoenician tomb, and the warehouse, and the ferry. Yes, Chaou had worn fancy shoes. “Thanks.” He resettled his bundled coat over his shoulder and plunged into the forest, scrambling up the winding track and hoping that he didn’t plant a naked foot on anything meaner than an acorn.
After twenty minutes of crashing about in the shadows of the trees, he stumbled out into the sunlight at the edge of a grassy field and just a stone’s throw away he saw the broad dirt road running west to east up into the hills.
“How the hell did I end up barefoot in the middle of nowhere?” he muttered. Not seeing anything or anyone on the road, he turned right and set off for Khemisset. “And where’s that damn airship when I need it? There’s plenty of room for it to land out here.”
As the afternoon descended into evening and the major climbed into the hill country outside Khemisset, he saw the grape and olive arbors in the distance. By the time he arrived in the outskirts of the city, the sun was a crimson glimmer on the edge of the world and a sharp chill rode the westerly wind. Syfax trudged straight down the main thoroughfare, ignoring the occasional stares of the people sitting outside their front doors or shuffling home from the factories. He had only been to Khemisset twice before, and briefly each time. Everything looked the same, like every other town in the hills. Frowning, Syfax grabbed the arm of a passing man and asked, “Where does the stage coach from Chellah usually drop folks off?”
The man flinched and jerked his arm away. “Over there.” He pointed up the street at a small square around an old stone well. A single horse was tied to the post there.
“Thanks.” Syfax pulled the stiff bundle of cloth off his aching shoulder, slipped his belt back around his waist, and shook out his damp coat before pulling it on. It weighed twice what it should and stank slightly, but still looked like a marshal’s uniform and that was all that mattered. He marched up to the horse by the well. “Who’s running this operation?”
A middle-aged woman leaning over the well straightened up and nodded. “That’s me. You looking for the coach? It’ll be back in half an hour or so, and then we’ll be doing the evening trip to Port Chellah. You can wait here if you want.”
“I don’t care about the coach. I’m looking for the old lady you picked up on the road.”
The woman’s expression soured. “You a marshal?”
“Major Zidane. Where’s the woman?”
The woman shrugged. “Siman’s dropping her off in town.”
