The duke came into the circular room from the stairs, shook his head, made a face. “We should have foreseen that it would hear a far-talker, Precious Wind. We knew the far-talker was used at the same time the creatures were made. It may have even been used to instruct the creature originally. The pattern the creature is traveling each night is the pattern we intended to lure it into taking. How did it learn our plans? Do you have an agent here? One you’ve been exchanging information with?”
“We never thought . . .”
Abasio said, “When you use the far-talker, do you talk in plain language? Or code?”
“I’ve always spoken Tingawan. You mean, it understands Tingawan?”
“If it’s supposed to be killing Tingawans, I would imagine it can. Your people found books. Were any of them books in Tingawan? If so, and if your plan intended something to happen at that campsite near the Pure Becomers, I think the monster knows all about it.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” came another voice from the top of the stairs. Xulai.
“Good?” Precious Wind choked on the word.
“Yes, very good.” Xulai was glassy eyed, obviously on the edge of collapse. “Because now we know what it expects, and it doesn’t know we know, so we’ll do something different. And we won’t use the far-talker. Or, if we do, we’ll mislead it, or we’ll do what Abasio said. We’ll talk in code.”
“But we don’t have a code,” Precious Wind cried.
“We’ll invent one. My grandfather is a very smart man.” She laughed, a mad little laugh that made Abasio shiver. “For example, if I tell him something will not create an elegance, he will know I mean that it is a bad thing. If I tell him I have to plant a thirty-foot hedge around my garden here because vicious horses with no blinders are jumping into it and ruining all the things we’ve been planting, he’ll know our plans are being upset. If I tell him I really wanted to use some of those old landscaping devices the old books mention, but we’re going to have to do without Distancia Oratoria trees because they’re spreading a disease through the air . . .”
“Allergy,” said Abasio very calmly, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing. “That’s what trees spread through the air. People sneeze.”
“Allergy,” she repeated, nodding, “Allerlgy. All gergy.” She began to laugh helplessly, almost hysterically.
Abasio took her in his arms. “Shh, dear heart. Shh. There’s an easier way. We can do as you suggested in the first place. You’re correct. It is good that it doesn’t know that we know.”
Justinian looked helplessly at his daughter. “We can probably adapt whatever plans were made; perhaps we can just move them. Make it happen earlier or later than the creature expects.” He looked questioningly at Precious Wind.
“If we’re going to change plans and can’t use the talkers, we need to send a messenger,” said Precious Wind. Her arms were folded on the table, and her head rested on them. She seemed to be speaking to the wood. She thought she was speaking to the wood inside her own head, not to have realized . . . “And we can’t do that until we know the creature is off the road and out of the way.”
Xulai said, “Send a bird, Precious Wind. Those people on the cliff are your people. Don’t they have birds?” Her voice was rough, barely intelligible.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I hadn’t even thought of that, we’ve been so used to using the other . . .”
Abasio asked, “Have any of the relay riders been attacked? Has any Wellsroad traffic been attacked?”
Justinian shook his head. “Orez hasn’t mentioned it. The men we met on the way here didn’t mention it. If it plans to trap us, it wouldn’t scare us off by attacking traffic. So far, it’s killed in remote places away from the roads. Places it judged it would be safe to kill some of our people.”
“Then we need to modify plans, send messages—multiple, to be sure they get through—and we need to move now,” said Abasio, glancing at Xulai’s white face. “This waiting is driving us all a little crazy.”
When Precious Wind went to her room that night, she found Abasio waiting for her. He held a small bundle, which he handed to her.
“In the event that Xulai and I do not return from this venture, we want you to get this to Tingawa, to Lok-i-xan. It’s something from the Before Time. Something benign. I want you to use the far-talker and message him where you’re leaving it, in case you don’t survive. Since the monster can hear the far-talker, say it’s something the monster won’t care about. Horse breeding records, maybe. A recipe for baked fish. Tell him you’re leaving it because you know he wants it, and be sure to put it someplace that will survive.”
“Abasio, this isn’t necessary. You’ll be able to—”
“You can’t guarantee that, lady. You can’t. We all try to act as though this is going to work, and not one of us knows whether it will or not. I do know one thing for sure, and that is if Xulai dies, she won’t go alone. And, maybe, I know that if I die, she won’t let me go alone either. She said this morning that she’s not so important now. She said that other people can do what she’s doing. I know what she’s thinking . . .”
“No. She can’t. She wouldn’t.”
“She can and she might, though I’d give my life to prevent it. This package is something important. There’s a letter with it, and whoever opens the package should read the letter first. Even though the thing is benign, it can kill you if you don’t know about it first. Don’t open the package, don’t think about it now. If all goes well, you can return it to me. Promise me, Precious Wind.”
He left her before she could respond. The library helmet had been a worry to him. He did not want to risk that falling
