Chapter 13: That OldTime Religion

Jewel's lips brushed his forehead, and at the same time Amy tenderly kissed his cheek.

"Awake, oh Master. The dawn is nigh."

"What the devil... ? Oh, good morning, Jewel, Amy. What are you two giggling about?"

"Why, Neal, you're blushing! All right, we'll be good. How would you like some hot breakfast to start your day off right?" Jewel triumphantly held up a blackened kettle from which savory odors arose in a cloud of steam.

"There is also water to wash with," Amy added happily, as though the whole of the crisp, clear morning was her own idea. "And, the toilet facilities are to your left as you step outside. Just follow your nose; you can hardly miss them."

When he returned, Jewel was ladling a thick stew out of the kettle into wooden bowls.

"... And another spoonful for you, and one for Amy, and one for... Oops!"

"What is it?" Neal blinked his eyes in the dim light, trying to see what it was that she had fished out of the kettle.

"A silver chain, with something hung from it. Looks like... Yes, it's a gem, some kind of green stone carved into the shape of a sea shell."

"The Mother Goddess!" Amy covered her mouth, guiltily, then continued in a much softer voice. "We must keep this a secret. Someone has sent this to us as a sign that friends are near."

"And that enemies are nearer?" Jewel asked softly. "I'm sure of it. Otherwise there would be no need to keep it a secret. What's the best thing to do with it?"

"You keep it," Neal decided, "but first we'll eat the stew it came in. Just be careful not to swallow any secret messages."

"Why me? Why should I have it, and not Amy?"

"It has to be you. You're the one with the gift for languages. You can understand the words they use for their chants and prayers."

"It's not all that hard to understand, since it's just the same language in an archaic form. It hasn't undergone the same vowel shift over the years as the rest of the language has, is all."

"Neal is right," Amy agreed. "You are the one, but you could be in bad trouble if you are caught with it. In an army like this there are sure to be many followers of the Old God. They would not be pleased to see this token of the Mother Goddess."

Jewel looped the chain about her neck, letting the green gem rest in the hollow between her breasts. She used chunks torn from a loaf of coarse dark bread to mop up the last of her stew, whose only remaining secrets were mundane ones, doubts as to what longdead animal had supplied the shreds of tough meat that gave it such a gamy flavor.

"It must be hard to provision an army in this forest," Neal mused when the last trace of food was gone. "No native food plants, and few wild animals."

"They have to bring their food with them, mostly," Amy confirmed. "That is what makes it so hard to raise a rebellion. A hostile army will raid farms where it can, but otherwise new supplies can only be brought in by fleets of ships carrying food raised in the fields around Harbassass. An army on the march must have food ships sent on ahead to meet with them along the shores of the Inner Sea."

"I thought that kingsharks would attack boats."

"Not if the ship is large enough. Few indeed of the kingsharks reach anywhere near the size of Gaan. It is believed that when they grow too large, they become unwieldy. Their smaller fellows attack and eat them, or they have trouble catching smaller fish, so they do not grow too large. The Bu'uli brought their troubles on themselves when they slew all but Gaan in their lake."

"Someone's coming," Jewel warned. They were standing, facing the front of the tent when the flap was thrust rudely aside.

"You're to follow me, all three of you."

"Certainly, we will be glad to," Neal answered calmly. "Sergeant Forgash, isn't it?"

The sergeant ignored his words, turning to march away. Jewel took the opportunity to make a careful study of their surroundings as she and Amy trailed along behind Neal. It was only a couple of dozen steps from where they had slept to Prince Arragin's tent, much closer than it had seemed in the darkness of the night. Sergeant Forgash stopped outside the entrance to Prince Arragin's tent this time, standing aside to let them enter.

"Ah, the good trader. Nurm, as you call yourself." Enough light filtered in through the tent walls to show everything clearly. Prince Arragin sat at ease in a folding chair, his bare feet propped on a hassock. At one elbow, a low table held a pottery jug and two goblets. At his other elbow, standing hardly taller than the seated prince, stood a small black statue of extreme and repellent ugliness. "Come in, Trader, come in. Have you eaten?"

"We have, your highness. The nourishment was most welcome."

Jewel watched from just behind Neal's shoulder, fascinated. The thing by Prince Arragin's side was no statue, no carven idol. The gleaming eyes in the skulllike head were alive and watching. She could see no ears. They must have been cropped. Cut off so close to the skull that only earholes were left. There was no hair, only skin stretched so tightly over bare bone as to be almost unnoticeable. As she looked closer, she could see that its lips even had vertical lines incised into the ebony skin, increasing the head's resemblance to a naked skull. The body was wrapped in a brownishblack garment that completely hid its shape.

"No, not long," Neal answered in response to a question from Prince Arragin. "It has not been more than, oh, perhaps twenty days since we came to this land. Yes, much has happened in so short a time. The life of a trader is not always so full as ours has been."

"A trader?" Neal was taken aback as the 'statue' spoke in a highpitched, scratchy voice. "I say that you are a spy!"

A skeletal arm extended from under the thing's cloak, the bony hand pointing at Neal as he took a halfstep backward, an almost comical look of surprise on his face.

"What am I supposed to be spying on," Neal asked calmly, "and spying for for whom? Who are you to accuse me?"

"Our pardon." Prince Arragin cocked his head to one side, birdlike, his deepset eyes twinkling from under their bushy brows. "I should have realized that you would not recognize His Worship. Standing before you is one who holds the awesome power of Darkness in his own two hands. I present to you Dalliktan, High Priest and Foremost Representative in Khamus of the Old God!"

"Enough of this mummery!" Dalliktan's highpitched voice was thin and cold. "Belief is not required of you. It is enough that you do not speak openly of your heresies."

"But, your worship! What heresies are these? When have I not spoken well of your God?" Prince Arragin raised a bushy eyebrow questioningly. "You accuse me of harboring secret doubts, when I have not spoken them aloud. Ah well, on to business. Did you not say that you have a few questions to ask of this Nurm?"

"I have." He turned to face Neal, moving stiffly as though he was indeed a statue carved from some dark wood or stone. "Many questions. You! Trader! Do you worship the SeaGoddess?"

"No, I do not. But neither do I worship your Old God." Jewel could tell that Neal was choosing his words with extreme care. "Neither one is known in my land, or at least not by those names."

"Yet you come from beyond the mountains, or so you claim. The SeaGoddess is known in those lands."

"In many of them, I am sure. I come from far beyond the mountains, from so far away that most of those lands are as strange to me as is this one."

"Still, you speak glibly of trade with Khamus!" Dalliktan pounced on Neal's words. "How do you propose we trade with this land, when it is so far away?"

"I speak of trade between whatever lands I may travel through..."

"This is nonsense! Lies and halftruths!" Dalliktan swung back to face Prince Arragin. "Give them to me for but a day and a night. My followers and I will soon enough have all of the truth they hold in their heads out of them, along with things they do not even know that they know."

"You wax overdramatic, Your Worship. Have a glass of wine to cool your blood." Arragin took a delicate sip from his goblet, nodding in the direction of the pottery mug his aide had filled it from. "There is no occasion for such heroic measures, not yet at least. If they are indeed spies, what harm can they do as long as they are penned here in this camp? Also, he amuses me."

"Then give me one of his women." Dalliktan's tiny eyes gleamed with malice as his gaze fastened on Jewel like an obscene caress. "This one will do quite as well."

"You are overeager, Dalliktan. Perhaps later, if we indeed find that such measures are needed." He stood, and Jewel saw that her first guess had been correct. As short as Arragin was, the diminutive form of the priest came only to his shoulder. "I'll not keep you, since I am sure that there are many fascinating ceremonies that you need to perform back at your temple to keep your Old God... amused."

Dalliktan's withered lips twisted as though to bite back a hasty retort, but he turned to go without answering. As he left the tent he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, shading his eyes from the bright sunlight. Jewel thought to herself that he would have seemed much more at home in the gloom of night than in the clear brightness of the morning, and she was momentarily surprised that the guard outside the tent did not instinctively draw away as Dalliktan brushed past him.

"A difficult person to deal with, my dear Nurm." Arragin watched the departing priest with poorly concealed distaste. "So intense in his beliefs. So ready to believe the worst of those who thwart his desires. If I am to deny him his pleasures for very long, I must have at least the semblance of a good reason. He already has too much influence among my officers as it is."