"Your professor should be here to cope with Master Uqful," said Klung. "Beings on the Fifth Plane are made of tougher stuff, as ye discovered, than we, and their thews embody more power for their size than ours."
Kerin yawned. "May I have another swallow? I wax sleepy even with it."
For hours, Kerin remained at his post, with Klung sitting cross-legged on the deck nearby. They kept each other awake by telling tales; Kerin repeated some of the stories with which he had regaled Malgo's pirates. He said:
"Doctor, I never imagined that a combat like this would become tedious. Such contests are not supposed to become boring."
"How should they go?"
"I ought to be fighting for my life with a sword against Pwana's henchmen, whilst you cast a mighty spell to make Uqful vanish with a clap of thunder."
Klung laughed. "My boy, deeds of derring-do oft entail much boresome watching and waiting." He looked up. "An I mistake not, I see the first flush of false dawn, or zodiacal light as the astrologers call it. That means true dawn will not long delay." He called down the hatch opening: "Oh, Master Uqful! The false dawn glows in the east. Hadst not better get you hence whilst ye can?"
The demon growled something unintelligible about treacherous Prime Planers. Then came a sharp sound, a kind of
floomp
from below. Nogiri called up:
"My lord! Kerin! It's gone!"
"Eh? What happened?"
"After Doctor Klung spake to it, it set me down, spun around faster and faster, and vanished. I took some scratches from its claws."
"Darling!" said Kerin. "Wait till I get down—"
"Nay; first I most urgently need to get to the cabin alone."
"Come to think, I have a like need," said Kerin; then to Klung: "Methinks none will now mind if we use the rail."
All next day, Kerin watched the shore and waited apprehensively for another attack. When nothing had happened by midafternoon, he sent Belinka, who still hung around despite her last farewell, ashore to ask Klung what was up. An hour later she returned, with an elfin giggle as her blue light danced about. She said:
"Doctor Pwana would have assailed you and your barbarian bride by other means, save that today he presents to the Sophi a wizard from Mulvan who, he saith, can infallibly stiffen the royal member for its multiple duties. Rumor hath it that His Majesty hath offered not only to wed one of Pwana's daughters but even to make her his Number One wife. This were an opportunity wherefor even the vindictive Pwana will forgo his revenge. Besides, if the Mulvanian's spell doth work, he will no longer need your barbarian to sacrifice. And now farewell forever!''
"Just a word, Belinka. This is the third time you've said good-bye forever, but on the other occasions you came back."
"The first time was to save you from Uqful; the second, when I realized I had forgotten the dress you bought me. Couldst leave it out in your cabin, pray?"
"Better than that." Kerin dug the scrap of cloth out of his wallet. "I've been meaning to ask Sendu to give it to you. But what should I think of this farewell?"
"This time I truly mean it, Master Kerin. I have decided to tarry in Salimor to store up strength for the long flight back to Kortoli. Besides, my dear Sendu and I have much in common. So when your ship sails, 'twill sail without me. Try not to fall overboard again!"
The little blue light zipped away. Somewhat reassured, Kerin still shot suspicious glances shoreward when he was trying to concentrate, under Tsemben's tutelage, on the Kuromonian verbal auxiliaries. As the sun declined, the balimpawang appeared, saying:
"How goeth it, my boy?"
Kerin told of the message from Belinka. Klung said: "Now I must be off. Tomorrow brings me a wealthy client, so I may not be able to bid you a final farewell. Take no needless chances, and forget not our contract!"
The
Tukara Mora
left the harbor in midmorning, with a banging of gongs and drums, creaking of cordage, and shouts of command. One by one the four great slatted brown lugwails rose, jerk by jerk, as lines of deckhands hauled on the halyards.
Once clear, the
Tukara Mora
swung to follow the coast of Ambok northwest. All day the ship forged ahead, keeping the coast barely in sight to starboard. When Kerin came up on deck after dinner, he found the ship pursuing the same course, rendered easy by a brilliant moon just past half full.
Early next morning, the ship passed the last headland of Ambok and swung northeast. Kerin watched to learn how the ship was navigated. A group of officers, distinguished by little round black hats, gathered on the fantail. With them came a small, wizened Kuromonian whom Kerin had not seen. A pair of deckhands carried a heavy box by handles.
"Reverend Tsemben!" said Kerin. "Who is the oldster?"
"The ship's sorcerer, the honorable Kushingu. It is his duty to protect the ship against any magical mischief that hostile wizards, like him who sent the demon against you, might attempt."
"He wasn't very helpful on that occasion," grumbled Kerin.
"Alas! He was ashore indulging his one vice, which is gambling."
"Who in his right mind would gamble with a magician? By a trivial spell he could control the fall of the dice, the turn of the wheel, or—"
"Owners of gambling places take measures. Some have magicians as partners, who put counterspells on the house; others hire familiar spirits from pawangs to detect the use of magic by gamesters."
"Does Master Kushingu also navigate the ship?"
"Aye."
"This I must see," murmured Kerin, starting towards the group. Before he reached them, a pair of burly marines blocked his way, pointing their fauchards and exclaiming:
"Keep back! Keep away!"
"I am merely fain to watch—" began Kerin, but they only shouted louder and waved their weapons.
Tsemben plucked at Kerin's sleeve. "Pry not into imperial secrets! Men are slain for less."
Kerin backed away until the marines grounded their fauchards, though they continued to glower. Later, the
Tukara Mora
passed a group of smaller islands. Around the end of one came a swarm of canoes, some almost as long as the
Tukara Mora
, twin-hulled and driven swiftly by scores of swarthy paddlers. On the ship, gongs banged and whistles blew. The marines lined up at the rail. At the sight of the hedge of steel, the canoes swerved away and disappeared.
"Pirates from Nintava," explained Tsemben. "That isle has an evil repute."
For a few days things were quiet. Every day at noon, the same officers and hands appeared with the little sorcerer and the mysterious box, performed their rite, and went away. Kerin exercised, walked the deck, watched whales and flying fish, and enjoyed Nogiri's company. They were coming to know each other well enough for each to anticipate the other's thoughts. When Kerin confided the details of his deal with Klung, she observed:
"A year as a bondservant in Kwatna were not so terrible, with an easygoing master like Klung."
"Maybe not to you; but I have my own mission, and my family and business back in Novaria. I must return. Besides, if we were living in Kwatna, who knows what devilment Pwana might not cook up?"
"True."
"If I could only get a look at this thing they do on the fantail, it might advance our quest. If I could fasten a mirror at an angle to the fourth mast. . . ."
They discussed this possibility, that with such a mirror in place, Kerin, ostensibly busy with his sword exercises, could sneak a look into the midst of the ship's officers in the mirror. But Nogiri pointed out that such a mirror would interfere with raising and lowering the sail and therefore would almost certainly be forbidden by the officers, even if they did not suspect its true objective. The argument waxed heated until Kerin rose angrily, saying:
"Methinks I'll hunt up Tsemben for another language lesson."
He stalked off. After the midday meal, he found Nogiri in her cabin. Twisting his feet and staring down at them like a delinquent schoolboy, he stammered an apology for his bad temper.
"Oh, forget it!" said Nogiri, embracing him. "A Salimorese husband would have beaten me for daring to oppose him, and
never
would he admit to being in the wrong. You are so much more likable than the men of my land that I wonder all our maidens migrate not to the West for such husbands."
"I know not that all Novarians be like me," said Kerin. "I merely stumble and fumble along, striving to do my best."
Kissing escalated to full lovemaking. When it was over, Nogiri said: "My lord, you grow daily better at this sport. It is you and not that stupid old Sophi who should have had the thousand wives!"
Reaching for his clothes, Kerin grinned. "Thankee; but methinks I'd better learn how to please one wife ere essaying to manage a flock of them. And by the way, dearest, much as I should like us to have children, it were better to await our return home. Hast been using your contraceptive spell?"
"Aye; my thoughts run ahead of yours."
"They often do, I've noticed," said Kerin, looping the chain of Rao's package over his head.
"What's that, my lord?" said Nogiri. "A protective amulet?"
"Not exactly." Kerin paused, frowning. "I might as well confide in you, for I need advice." He told of the Mulvani Rao and the message he was supposed to deliver to the Kuromonian court. He also told how Rao had given Kerin the package and then vanished at Akkander.
"May I see it?" she said. Turning it over, she remarked: "It is some sort of paper folded in a silken envelope."
"Pwana opened and resealed it on the island," said Kerin. "According to him, it is a set of directions for making a magical fan of some sort. The thing makes me uneasy, for who knows what might come of it? At the same time, I am reluctant simply to drop it into the sea. I promised Rao to make at least an effort to deliver it. What shall I do with the thing?"
"Since you are going to Kuromon anyway, you might as well give it to some authority. They might even reward you."
A day of storm sent huge green waves sloshing across the
Tukara Mora's
weather deck, while the ship plodded imperturbably on her course. The crew had lowered the sails in their rope tackles until only the upper halves were still spread. Between waves, the crew scampered about their duties without excitement, although the storm was more severe than that which had tossed the
Dragonet
about at the start of Kerin's journey.
Koteiki harbor was the largest anchorage that Kerin had seen; and the number of ships of all sizes, from little rowboats up, exceeded those at Vindium and Janareth combined. All the sailing vessels bore bamboo-battened sails; most of their hulls were gaily painted in gaudy colors.
When the
Tukara Mora
dropped anchor in the outer harbor, a big galley-barge approached and drew alongside. Several Kuromonians climbed the boarding ladder. One, in an embroidered robe and a round cap with a crimson button, appeared to be the leader. Others wore a kind of uniform tunic bearing a squiggle in Kuromonian writing. Then came another man, a small, plump, older one with a thin gray beard and a fancy green robe, but with a different design.
Captain Yambang met the delegation. He and the leader exchanged low bows, over and over until Kerin felt a sympathetic backache. They exchanged documents and conversed, too fast and colloquially for Kerin to follow. The leader from the galley sent his men scurrying about the ship, Kerin supposed to check the captain's manifest against the cargo.
Days before, Kerin had asked how to deliver a message to the Imperial Court. The officers had told him to find the harbor master, who would set him on his way. When the official from the galley was momentarily unoccupied, Kerin asked:
"Sir, are you the harbor master?"
"Nay; this humble worm is but the second assistant to the noble harbor master. What wouldst?"
Before Kerin could reply, the older Kuromonian approached, saying: "Your pardon, but are you not Master Rao of Mulvan, with a document for our invincible government?"
"Why—ah—" stammered Kerin, at a loss. While he wondered whether to try to explain how he came to have the little package, the older man produced a sheet of paper bearing several lines of Kuromonian writing and a sketch of a man's face.
"Ah, yea," said the man, bowing. "You are indeed this eagerly awaited courier. Hast that you were sent to bring?"
Kerin reached inside his jacket and showed the package of oiled silk. "Here it is."
"Excellent! If you will step aboard . . ."He indicated the galley.
Kerin whispered in Salimorese to Nogiri: "What shall I do? Hadn't I better confess the mistake now, ere it be too late?"
"Nay!" she breathed. "We shall have better treatment if they think you the original messenger."
"But if they find out later, the gods know what they'd do—"
"And if they find out now, they may chop off your head for murdering Rao and stealing his package, hoping for a reward!"
"My conscience bothers me." Kerin turned back. "Sir, to whom have I the honor of speaking?"
"This person is civil servant Toga,
gwan
of the tenth rank and fourth assistant secretary of the Foreign Barbarian Section of the Bureau of Internal Travel Control of the Department of Roads, Canals, and Shipping, at your service."
Kerin did not know what
gwan
meant but inferred that it was some sort of term for "official." His command of Kuromonian was not yet firm enough to follow sentences at normal rate of speech. He was therefore often compelled to ask his interlocutors to repeat what they had said more slowly. Now he bowed, saying:
"May I see that paper, pray?"
The man turned the paper, and Kerin saw a recognizable likeness of himself—in fact, both of himself and of the vanished Rao. The latter was much darker of skin, but this inkbrush sketch ignored that difference.
"Thankee, Master Toga," said Kerin. "Permit us to collect our baggage, and we shall join you."
Soon Kerin and Nogiri climbed down the ladder into the galley. Kerin was in his everyday jacket, trousers, and boots, while over her sarong Nogiri wore the embroidered Kuromonian jacket Kerin had bought her. The vessel pushed off and headed for shore with vigorous strokes of its twenty oars.