Snarling, the witch stalked off.
Keneb stared after her a moment, then, shrugging, he turned and entered the command tent.
The canvas walls still reeked of smoke, a grim reminder of Y'Ghatan.
The map-table remained – not yet loaded out onto the transports – and around it, despite the fact that the tabletop was bare – stood the Adjunct, Blistig and Admiral Nok.
'Fist Keneb,' Tavore said.
'Two more days, I should think,' he replied, unclasping his cloak now that he was out of the wind.
The Admiral had been speaking, it seemed, for he cleared his throat and said, 'I still believe, Adjunct, that there is nothing untoward to the command. The Empress sees no further need for the Fourteenth's presence here. There is also the matter of the plague – you have managed to keep it from your troops thus far, true enough, but that will not last. Particularly once your stores run out and you are forced to forage.'
Blistig grunted sourly. 'No harvest this year. Apart from abandoned livestock there ain't much to forage – we'd have no choice but to march to a city.'
'Precisely,' said the Admiral.
Keneb glanced at Tavore. 'Forgive me, Adjunct-'
'After I sent you out to gauge the loading of troops, the subject of command structure was concluded, to the satisfaction.of all.' A certain dryness to that, and Blistig snorted. Tavore continued, '
Admiral Nok has finally relayed to us the command of the Empress, that we are to return to Unta. The difficulty before us now lies in deciding our return route.'
Keneb blinked. 'Why, east and then south, of course. The other way would take-'
'Longer, yes,' Nok interrupted. 'Nonetheless, at this time of year, we would be aided by currents and prevailing winds. Granted, the course is less well charted, and most of our maps for the western coast of this continent are derived from foreign sources, making their reliability open to challenge.' He rubbed at his weathered, lined face. 'All of that is, alas, not relevant. The issue is the plague.
Adjunct, we have sought one port after another on our way to this rendezvous, and not one was safe to enter. Our own supplies are perilously low.'
Blistig asked, 'So where do you believe we can resupply anywhere west of here, Admiral?'
'Sepik, to begin with. The island is remote, sufficiently so that I believe it remains plague-free. South of that, there is Nemil, and a number of lesser kingdoms all the way down to Shal-Morzinn. From the southern tip of the continent the journey down to the northwest coast of Quon Tali is in fact shorter than the Falar lanes. Once we have cleared the risk that is Drift Avalii we will find ourselves in the Genii Straits, with the coast of Dal Hon to our north. At that time the currents will once again be with us.'
'All very well,' Blistig said in a growl, 'but what happens if Nemil and those other 'lesser kingdoms' decide they're not interested in selling us food and fresh water?'
'We shall have to convince them,' the Adjunct said, 'by whatever means necessary.'
'Let's hope it's not by the sword.'
As soon as Blistig said that his regret was obvious – the statement should have sounded reasonable; instead, it simply revealed the man's lack of confidence in the Adjunct's army.
She was regarding her Fist now, expressionless, yet a certain chill crept into the chamber, filling the silence.
On Admiral Nok's face, a look of disappointment. Then he reached for his sealskin cloak. 'I must return now to my flagship. Thrice on our journey here, the outrider escorts sighted an unknown fleet to the north. No doubt the sightings were mutual but no closer contact occurred, so I believe it poses no threat to us.'
'A fleet,' Keneb said. 'Nemil?'
'Possibly. There was said to be a Meckros city west of Sepik Sea – that report is a few years old. Then again,' he glanced over at the Adjunct as he reached the flap, 'how fast can a floating city move? In any case, Meckros raid and trade, and it may well be that Nemil has dispatched ships to ward them from their coast.'
They watched the Admiral leave.
Blistig said, 'Your pardon, Adjunct-'
'Save your apology,' she cut in, turning away from him. 'One day I shall call upon you, Blistig, to voice it again. But not to me; rather, to your soldiers. Now, please visit Fist Tene Baralta and relay to him the essence of this meeting.'
'He has no interest-'
'His interests do not concern me, Fist Blistig.'
Lips pressed together, the man saluted, then left.
'A moment,' the Adjunct said as Keneb prepared to follow suit. 'How fare the soldiers, Fist?'
He hesitated, then said, 'For the most part, Adjunct, they are relieved.'
'I am not surprised,' she said.
'Shall I inform them that we are returning home?'
She half-smiled. 'I have no doubt the rumour is already among them. By all means, Fist. There is no reason to keep it a secret.'
'Unta,' Keneb mused, 'my wife and children are likely there. Of course, it stands to reason that the Fourteenth will not stay long in Unta.'
'True. Our ranks will be refilled.'
'And then?'
She shrugged. 'Korel, I expect. Nok thinks the assault on Theft will be renewed.'
It was a moment before Keneb realized that she did not believe a word she was saying to him. Why not Korel? What might Laseen have in store for us, if not another campaign? What does Tavore suspect? He hid his confusion by fumbling over the cloak's clasps for a few heartbeats.
When he glanced up again, the Adjunct seemed to be staring at one of the tent's mottled walls.
Standing, always standing – he could not recall ever having seen her seated, except on a horse. 'Adjunct?'
She started, then nodded and said, 'You are dismissed, Keneb.'
He felt like a coward as he made his way outside, angry at his own sense of relief. Still, a new unease now plagued him. Unta. His wife.
What was, is no longer. I'm old enough to know the truth of that.
Things change. We change'Make it three days.'
Keneb blinked, looked down to see Grub, flanked by Bent and Roach. The huge cattle-dog's attention was fixed elsewhere – southeastward – while the lapdog sniffed at one of Grub's worn moccasins, where the child's big toe protruded from a split in the upper seam. 'Make what three days, Grub?'
'Until we leave. Three days.' The boy wiped his nose.
'Dig into one of the spare kits,' Keneb said, 'and find some warmer clothes, Grub. This sea is a cold one, and it's going to get colder yet.'
'I'm fine. My nose runs, but so does Bent's, so does Roach's. We're fine. Three days.'
'We'll be gone in two.'
'No. It has to be three days, or we will never get anywhere. We'll die in the sea, two days after we leave Sepik Island.'
A chill rippled through the Fist. 'How did you know we were headed west, Grub?'
The boy looked down, watched as Roach licked clean his big toe. '
Sepik, but that will be bad. Nemil will be good. Then bad. And after that, we find friends, twice. And then we end up where it all started, and that will be very bad. But that's when she realizes everything, almost everything, I mean, enough of everything to be enough. And the big man with the cut hands says yes.' He looked up, eyes bright. 'I found a bone whistle and I'm keeping it for him because he'll want it back. We're off to collect seashells!'
With that all three ran off, down towards the beach.
Three days, not two. Or we all die. 'Don't worry, Grub,' he said in a whisper, 'not all grown-ups are stupid.'
Lieutenant Pores looked down at the soldier's collection. 'What in Hood's name are these?'
