“Not just tricks, though, I hope,” Sterren said, knowing he was prodding her on what was surely a sensitive subject.
“No, real spells!” she snapped. “I am Annara of Crookwall and I am a full journeyman in the Wizards’ Guild; I served my six years as apprentice and I learned what my master could teach me!”
Her flash of pride vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. “That wasn’t much, though,” she admitted, nervously tugging her hair back from her face.
That was no surprise. Sterren nodded and poured himself wine.
As they ate, the warlock and the three Semmans said nothing, while Sterren and Annara made polite small talk. Sterren inquired about her upbringing in Crookwall, while she, in turn, asked about Semma and was surprised to learn that he was a native of Westgate, rather than someplace more exotic.
After the meal had been consumed, Sterren leaned back in his chair and looked across at Lady Kalira as he tried to decide what to do next.
“Well, my lord,” Lady Kalira said, seeing his attention focused on her, “you have two magicians here, do you not?”
Sterren nodded.
“Is that sufficient, then?”
Sterren guessed at what the Semmat word for “sufficient” meant. He glanced at Annara, who would give no details other abilities beyond admitting to “a few spells,” and then at the warlock, who had as yet given no name, who might well be totally powerless in Semma.
“No,” he replied immediately, before even considering his own hopes for escape. “These two may help, but neither of them can provide any assurance of winning.”
“Then you plan to try to recruit more?”
Sterren nodded.
“My lord, are you sure you have no other intentions?”
He picked up her phrase to ask, “What other intentions might I have?” He eyed her cautiously.
“Delay, perhaps.”
“Baguir?” He did not recognize the word. He guessed it to be something like “escape,” but could not be certain. “What’s baguir?”
“To put off, to stall, to hold back, to go slowly; I don’t know the Ethsharitic.”
That was not the reply Sterren had feared and expected. “Delay?” he asked. “Why should I want to delay?”
“I would not know, my lord, but your refusal to purchase any magical assistance in sailing hither, and your insistence that two magicians are not enough, would seem to imply that you are certainly in no hurry about this foolish, disreputable business.”
He picked up her phrase again, without any very clear idea what it meant, save that it had a strong negative connotation. “This disreputable business may save Semma, my lady.”
“Not if you continue to delay.”
“I’m not delaying! Why should I?”
“Well, my lord, it has occurred to me, in my more cynical moments, that if you can stretch your visit to this, your homeland, long enough, perhaps the war in Semma will be fought and lost before our return, and you can retire to a comfortable exile here.”
Sterren stared at her. That possibility had never occurred to him.
A very tempting possibility it was, too.
He glanced quickly to either side, at the two other Semmans, the only ones in the tavern who could understand this Semmat conversation.
Alder looked seriously upset; Dogal was calmer, but eyeing Sterren suspiciously.
“I am not delaying,” Sterren insisted.
“Then tell me, my lord, just how much longer we must remain here, and how many magicians you think to find.”
“My lady Kalira, I’ve only just started! One hour in a... in one market is nothing! If we could find one magician I could be sure was powerful enough, that would be all we need; without that one, I think half a dozen might serve. To find the right ones, though, I have no way of knowing how long it will be!” Lady Kalira sighed. “My lord Sterren, let us speak frankly,” she said. “You know that despite your rank, I was sent here as your gaoler, to make sure that you did, in fact, return to Semma before the spring, when invasion is all but certain.”
Sterren noticed Alder turn to stare at Lady Kalira as she said this; he had obviously not realized either that Sterren was still under suspicion by anyone but Dogal and himself, nor that an invasion was imminent.
“You have managed to lose four of the six men set to guard you, though I am not sure how.”
“They may come back,” Sterren interrupted.
Lady Kalira held up a hand. “Yes, they may, but at present they are not here. Let me continue.” She glared at him.
“Go on,” Sterren said.
“As I was saying, you have very cleverly disposed of two-thirds of your escort already and acquired two of the magicians you sought, to confuse matters and perhaps, for all we know, to deceive the two guards remaining. We have no very clear idea what you have been discussing with them throughout this meal, since we don’t know Ethsharitic; you could have been planning your escape, with their connivance, under our very noses.”
Sterren wished he had been bold enough to try it.
“Now, you are demanding an effectively unlimited opportunity to stroll about the city, looking for a chance to slip away and hide from us in a city you know far better than we could ever hope to. I am sorry, but as your unwilling gaoler, I can’t allow it, we must set a term, at the end of which we will depart this place and sail homeward with all due speed. I would suggest that by noon tomorrow we be under way.”
Sterren sat back and used a fingernail to pick the last remnants of his supper from between his teeth as he considered this.
“I see what you mean, my lady,” he said at last, “and I truly do understand. I do not suppose that you would accept my word that I will not escape, or delay until it’s too late.” To his own surprise, he realized that he really would be willing to give his word, and that he would keep it, as he always had. Semma was not really as bad as all that, and the idea of his soldiers being slaughtered was not an appealing one. If he could just find the right magic, he was sure he could win the war. It was a challenge, a gamble, and he wanted to meet it head on. He wanted to see if a little magic really could change a sure defeat into victory.
And after it was over, maybe then he could desert.
“No, my lord,” she said, “I’m afraid I couldn’t accept your word. After all, despite your noble ancestry and your apparent good intentions, what are you really but a merchant’s brat, brought up in the streets, accustomed to cheating at dice to earn your bread? How much honor can I expect from such as you?”
Sterren smiled wryly, to hide how much Lady Kalira’s clinically exact description hurt him. “More than you might think,” he said, “But if you will not take my word, there is little I can do to make you believe me.” He sighed. “Until noon, though, is not enough. If you could give me three days...”
He let his voice trail off.
“Three days?” It was her turn to sit back and consider.
“Today is the twenty-first of Snowfall,” she said. “You will agree, then, that we must all be aboard ship by nightfall on the twenty-fourth, ready to set sail with the next tide?”
Sterren nodded. “Agreed,” he said.
“You’ll promise not to attempt escape?”
“You said that you can’t accept my word, but all the same, I’ll give it. I won’t try to escape before nightfall on the twenty-fourth of Snowfall.”
“All right,” she said, “Three days, and then we drag you back to the ship.”
CHAPTER 16
