CHAPTER SIX
Ahearn happened to be stealing glances at Corum Torshaenyx’s striking hair when the Tualaran looked up, as if hearing a sound that was inaudible to the rest of them. He pushed off the wall against which he’d been leaning. “Come with me,” he murmured.
“Here, now,” Ahearn began, but found himself following even as he was preparing to object, “we’re not about to leave our mate without a word from or about him!”
But Corum was already approaching two lithe figures that had emerged from a homely building not much larger than a shed, set slightly back from the edge of the street. Before Ahearn could continue forward to press his point, a thin but very strong hand clamped down upon his bicep.
S’ythreni was staring at the figures as they left the shadows: Iavu in their customary—and much-coveted—sheathe armor. “Don’t follow him,” she hissed, but her tone said, don’t intrude.
Ahearn was as startled by her actions as her words; she had never before touched him. “What’s got into you, High Ears?”
“Don’t call me that! Not here.”
“But—?”
Elweyr interrupted. “Not around them.” He tilted his head slightly toward the two Iavarain now in quiet council with the Tualaran.
Ahearn frowned. “I’ll not be tethering my tongue for the likes of—”
“Please,” she muttered, her voice as desperate as it was angry. “They are not just Iavarain. They are Uulamantre.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Because I could not”—she fought for a word—“‘sense’ them.”
Ahearn sighed. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking what you mean by that, but—?”
Elweyr stepped in front of Ahearn, as if trying to block the open space between him and the Uulamantre. “You’ve seen that Iavarain are often aware of each other at considerable distances.”
Ahearn considered. “Aye. After our time with the dragon, S’ythreni was sure we’d meet Tharêdæath in—”
Elweyr waved away the details. “Well, only Uulamantre can elect to make themselves undetectable to others of their kind.”
Ahearn frowned, glanced at S’ythreni. “Would those… gentlemen… think less of you simply because I used your nickname?”
She looked both annoyed and grateful. “Firstly, I don’t like that nickname and you know it. Secondly, they’re not both gentlemen. Well, not presently.”
Ahearn squinted, then realized he was about to bump his nose into more of the unfathomable sex and gender changeability that often made dealings with both Iavarain and aeostu so bloody exasperating. He managed to suppress an annoyed oath. “Well, then… S’ythreni… I shall not make trouble,” he vowed somberly… just as he felt Elweyr poke him in the ribs.
He rounded on his friend with an impatient “What now?”… and found himself looking over the mantic’s shoulder and into Corum’s startlingly blue eyes. “Didn’t hear you return,” the swordsman mumbled.
The Tualaran merely nodded and held out a small black leather folio, not much larger than a wallet. Ahearn stared at it as the other explained, “The Lady’s invitation assured you recompense for the costs of your journey here. This should prove sufficient.”
Ahearn managed to resist the temptation of snatching the strange purse before anyone—including himself—could reflexively point out that they’d spent almost no coin getting to Shadowmere. Their travel with Tharêdæath had been gratis, and their voyage aboard Nolus’ Atremoënse had been working passage. But the inner voice of parental care and prudence hurried to remind him: yeh must put by as much as you can for your little tad—
He cut off that tempting thought with a sharp shake of his head. “Nay, we spent no coin reaching these shores.” He felt the others’ eyes on him, couldn’t tell if they were aghast or amazed. Likely both.
One of Corum’s eyebrows might have elevated slightly. He withdrew the folio… but only to add one more small gold ingot to the others that peeked briefly beyond the open leather flap. Once secured, he proffered it again. “Then this is in consideration for your troubles”—one side of his mouth crinkled upwards—“and your honesty.”
Ahearn had to keep himself from calculating the approximate value of the wallet’s contents based on its heft and what he had glimpsed. Instead, he handed it off to Umkhira whose role as group purser had been, in retrospect, inevitable; her attitude toward coin ranged from distaste to disdain. “We are very much obliged,” the swordsman answered. “I do hope we will have the opportunity to thank the Lady for her kindness and generosity.” He had to take long strides to complete his courtesies; Corum was already setting a brisk pace away from the tower and the one Uulamantre who had taken his place near its entrance. “The opportunity to thank her in person, is what I mean to say,” Ahearn added fretfully, glancing back at the iron-bound door.
Corum nodded. “We shall learn that soon enough.”
Ahearn exchanged glances with the others, whose surprised frowns were probably matches for the one he’d felt pulling down his own brow. “Eh, just how soon d’yeh think that might be?”
With the second Uulamantre following at a distance, Corum slowed to an unhurried walk. “I cannot say. But this axiom was old before I was born: the only thing predictable about a visit to the Lady’s Tower is that the outcome is never predictable.”
They continued westward in silence until, leaving the shop-lined street, they merged into the foot traffic of the broad wharfside boulevard. Although less congested than before, navigating it as a group remained frustrating.
Ahearn glanced around, noticing how far back their Uulamantre rearguard had dropped. “With all due respect, is it prudent that you escort us alone?”
Corum’s dimples twitched. “I suspect I am ready for any challenges we might encounter.”
From the direction of the Uulamantre, Ahearn heard a smothered exclamation of “Mahu!” He had heard S’ythreni utter a similar reaction to a quip or a gaffe—usually his; it was the Iavarain equivalent of an amused scoff.
Corum pretended not to have heard it. “More importantly, where I go, the Lady’s will and eye is known to follow. Twenty more like me could not make us so safe as that.”
Elweyr still sounded slightly anxious. “And where, exactly, are you leading us?”
“To a safe place overseen by a friend: Talshane, the Outrider station chief who I believe assisted you in Treve last year.”
Ahearn nodded gratefully, but thought, You seem a fine fellow, Corum, but you know entirely too much about us.
“But he was only visiting Treve, as I recall,” Umkhira said. “His actual post was here in Shadowmere.”
Corum nodded. “You recall correctly. He is the officer in charge of the Consentium’s primary base in Far Amitryea.”
Umkhira looked and sounded even more interested. “A military base?”
Corum shook his head. “The Outrider Expeditionary Cohort’s premises are primarily diplomatic, having limited exequatur granted by A’Querlaan and this city.”
Ahearn was so focused on the exchange about Talshane that he almost missed S’ythreni’s mumbled “I shall slow for a moment, then catch up.”
As she turned in the direction of their Uulamantre rearguard, Ahearn frowned, puzzled. “Why?”
“I was asked to.”
Ahearn shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.” S’ythreni stared at him; understanding dawned. “Ah, you can sense him now?”
“Her. Yes. I won’t be long.”
Corum glanced briefly at Ahearn before setting a slightly faster pace. The swordsman understood the signal, gestured for the others to hang back. When he had caught up, the Tualaran asked, “Your Iavan companion seems reluctant to meet her own kind. May I ask why?”
Ahearn shrugged as they made their way through a line of waiting stevedores. “I don’t know and I don’t ask. It’s part of how we all manage to get along.”
Corum was silent for a moment. Then: “Are you aware how Iavarain normally travel?”
“You mean ‘not amongst humans’? Yes, I’m quite familiar. She mentions it regularly.”
Corum tactfully refocused the topic. “I was alluding to the fact that they almost never travel alone. That is very unusual. Especially when traveling among humans.”
Ahearn shrugged. “I suppose she has her reasons. She’s very private.”
“Clearly,” the Tualaran answered. Another pause. “You would do well to be prepared for… surprises.”
Ahearn stared at him. “What kind of surprises?”
Corum sounded faintly apologetic. “If I knew, I’d tell you.” He pointed to a squat, walled compound that was far more reminiscent of a citadel than a consulate. “Our destination.”
Umkhira snorted. “And what manner of diplomats staff such a sturdy place?”
“Those who are also Couriers and Outriders.”
“So,” S’ythreni’s voice called from behind as she returned, “they’re mostly scouts, trackers, observers, rescuers, and prospectors for anything of interest to the Consentium. I’ll warrant they’re as polite as any other Dunarrans, but don’t scruple to use force when they deem it necessary.”
“You are quite correct, Sahn S’ythreni,” Corum said, pronouncing the formal ungendered title with a surprisingly good accent. “That is why both groups are deemed to be elite; their duties are for more complex than those performed by legiars.”
Umkhira nodded. “Not all who can wield a weapon are equally skilled at restraining the urge to do so.”
Corum nodded. “Or to seek other means to achieve their ends.”
“They still seem to do a lot of fighting,” S’ythreni muttered darkly.
“Their duties often take them to places where they are given no alternatives,” Corum agreed. “But unwarranted violence results in dismissal—particularly when it is a first reaction to an unknown species.”
As if reciting from memory, Elweyr said, “‘All too easily, the different becomes the excluded, which becomes the feared, which becomes the hated, and so, becomes a soulless foe to be slain.’” They all stared at him, including Corum. He shrugged. “If you live in a city on Dunarra’s border, you meet Outriders.”
“And learn their axioms?” Umkhira wondered.
He shrugged. “The basic ones. I’m told there are others that we don’t hear.”
S’ythreni frowned. “Why not?”
It was Corum who answered. “Because most long-service Outriders who’d know those less common axioms spend less and less time in or near Dunarra. Most live out their lives elsewhere.”
Ahearn smiled sideways at the Tualaran. “So they go a bit native, do they?”
“Many do,” he replied somberly. “Those without families often do not come back at all. Fewer still participate in the public life of the Consentium.” Turning a corner, he gestured to the fortlike structure that had been only partially visible over the roofs. He gestured toward its portcullised entry.
“What?” Ahearn exclaimed. “Yer not coming with us?”
“I am not. Please bear this to Talshane personally.” He held out a leather advice pouch. “Tell him it comes from Cerven. Do not give it to intermediaries; it must go directly into Talshane’s hands. I shall wait without, that you may converse freely with him.”
Ahearn scratched one ear. “We’ve naught private to discuss with the man.”
Corum’s answer came with a small smile. “Such expectations can prove erroneous—and are often awkward to discover in the presence of others. Besides, I instructed Cerven to rejoin me here, and he will be along presently.”
Umkhira nodded her understanding: as she had at Treve, she admired the portcullis as she passed beneath it. S’ythreni followed with a rueful shake of her head, as if the fortified entrance confirmed her opinion that Dunarrans suffered from linked manias of anxiety and precaution. Ahearn brought up the rear with Elweyr.
Although it took a while to reach Talshane himself—stopping to announce themselves to numerous sentries—he reacted to their appearance at his office with a broad grin, one palm swept toward waiting chairs, the other held up against formal greetings. Ahearn admired the deft social skills which made it feel as though they had seen him in Treve just yesterday, instead of nineteen moonphases ago.
When Ahearn approached Talshane’s desk, the other’s grin turned crafty. “So you’ve got the advice pouch from Cerven, then.”
Ahearn handed it over and took a seat as Talshane thumbed hastily through the contents. “You’re just off the Atremoënse, yes?”
Ahearn managed not to start. Another bloke who knows way too much about us. “As well informed as ever, I see.”
The station chief’s only reply was a rueful bend to his grin. “In my experience, ‘just off a ship’ means ‘just escaped from ship’s food,’ so how about a meal?”
“Please,” breathed S’ythreni.
Ahearn nodded as he probed, “And yeh even have lunch waiting for us. Well, well: it seems we were expected.”
Talshane nodded as he sat. “The news came a few hours ago.” He sat back and steepled his hands. “And I take it Druadaen is closeted with the Lady.”
“That is a very astute guess… if it’s a guess,” Elweyr commented.
Talshane’s tone was wry. “He’s the only one of you who’s missing and the only one with an obvious reason to go there.”
S’ythreni sighed. “So you’ve heard about what happened in Tlulanxu, then.”
“Nothing specific, but we meet regularly with Helper sacrists. They mentioned a closed hearing in the Propretorium that sent a ripple through all their temples some moonphases ago. Now the Lady is chatting with Druadaen, and I get a request from her factotums to, er, entertain you for a while.”
“I do not see why you would so readily connect the events in Tlulanxu to our arrival here,” Umkhira muttered, frowning.
Talshane’s grin brightened. “Even from Far Amitryea, I can read the political weather in Tlulanxu. Besides, when I met you last year, Druadaen’s researches had already unnerved some powers there, but the first thing he asked me was how to find the giants south of Treve.” He shook his head. “Anyone who stays a course so costly is likely to keep steering by whatever star guides them, come what may.” He spread his hands to indicate the group. “And here you are. Now, what exactly did he do this time?”
Ahearn smiled crookedly. “He asked more questions that weren’t supposed to be asked. Got exiled for his troubles.”
Talshane started. “Exiled? Do you mean to say they took away his citizenship?”
Ahearn’s slow, somber nod was a match for the others’.
S’ythreni’s addition was arch. “Worse yet, not even the highest and mightiest of them could answer his questions. Or resolve the apparent contradictions.”
Talshane sighed. “Yes, if one wants to be banished, that will do it every time.” He rubbed his chin. “In one way, though, I suppose his exile was fortuitous.”
Umkhira frowned mightily. “How so?”
“Well, so long as he remained in the service of Dunarra, the parties he made nervous would not have been likely to believe that an invitation from the Lady was anything other than a sign that she was taking sides. Against them.”
Ahearn nodded, managed not to point out that none of them had mentioned the Lady’s invitation to their exceedingly affable host.
Elweyr frowned. “Everything I hear that connects the Mirror to the affairs of kings and countries is, well… ”
“Perplexing?”
“And enigmatic,” he amended. “Even perverse.”
Talshane emitted a sound that was half grunt and half chortle. “Quite true. But compared to the perversities that pass for normal affairs in Tlulanxu right now?” He shook his head. “I’m much happier here, half a world away. There’s little joy in walking those streets if you have to keep your elbows tucked in and your chin tucked down. If you take my meaning.”
Umkhira huffed in sympathetic fellowship. “By which you mean, all the rules of that place? They are like its walls: to keep people in their place. And to keep everyone else outside.”
Talshane squinted at her summation. “I view it a bit differently, Mistress Warrior. I don’t see the walls as the disease, but the symptom. Long ago, they protected us in dangerous times. The problem is that they became old, comfortable friends and, as you say, walls don’t just keep things out; they hem you in. So the cost of our safety has been ignorance of the wider world.”
“And fear of outsiders?” Elweyr ventured.
“Not so much.” He smiled ruefully. “Except, of course when it’s one of our own who’s been changed by that wider world. Now that is worrisome.”
S’ythreni’s face was impassive, but her voice scornful. “So, Couriers—the only Dunarrans who routinely do interact with the rest of the world—now encounter distrust and suspicion in their own land because it makes them ‘different’?”
Talshane frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t put it as baldly as that.”
S’ythreni’s mouth didn’t smile, but her eyes did. “I’m waiting to hear you say you disagree.”
Talshane’s rueful grin was back. “Well, I didn’t say that either, did I, Alva S’ythreni?”
Ahearn couldn’t suppress a chortle. “I hope you won’t mind me saying that you’re… well, you’re not like most of the Dunarrans I’ve met.”
Talshane almost laughed himself. “Well, I suppose most of us Outriders are a bit atypical to start out with. One of the first things we’re asked is if we’re ‘willing to be washed by the waters of other peoples and places.’” He shrugged. “Not many people like that in any culture. Mine included.”
Elweyr looked over folded hands. “Many people think Dunarrans are actually much worse at that than other nations.”
Talshane nodded. “I can see how it seems so, but I think that would be mistaking an effect for a cause.”
“Eh?” grunted Ahearn.
S’ythreni nodded slowly. “It goes back to the walls. Dunarrans don’t have a greater instinct to avoid new cultures, but they have few neighbors and no reason to go beyond their well-patrolled borders.”
“Ah, so it’s just as if you don’t exercise a muscle. It weakens, atrophies.” Ahearn tried not to be offended when S’ythreni reacted to his use of the word “atrophy” with a sharply raised eyebrow and look of surprise.
Talshane grimaced. “And that weakness has grown ever since we retracted at the end of the First Consentium.” He glanced over their heads and, relieved, jumped to his feet. “But now, lunch is served! And not a moment too soon!”