"You're a dead man, Deremer. My father will slaughter every Dire Sweeper in Lowmeer." The words were whispered and halting, which made them sound more pathetic than defiant.

"If you think your father cares about you, you're deceived. Rumour tells us Valerian Fox has a number of sons, all between fifteen and twenty-five years old. What he hasn't ever told any of you is that the more you use your sorcery, the shorter your life will be. You've been ordering men to join the lancers, but each man you coerce is weeks cut from your lifespan. Because that's the way sorcery works."

"You're a liar. My father is still vigorous!"

"Ah, yes, but he knows how to use his sorcery to revitalise his life, doesn't he? I'm sure you know that."

"Of course I know that!"

"But he's just never bothered to tell you how it's done, has he? And I can tell you why."

Theddor looked at him in befuddled silence, perhaps wondering if he'd already said too much.

"Don't worry, my friend. You haven't said anything I didn't already know."

Herelt waved to one of the jailers and the man opened the cell door. A smell of hot food wafted in from succulent chunks of beef topped with dumplings, swimming in thick vegetable gravy. Herelt's younger brother, Evern, brought in a plate of it, heaped high, and placed it on the floor just short of Theddor.

"You can have it all, if you answer my questions. I won't let you go, but you will have all you want to eat, and you'll be moved to a more salubrious cell. My promise, as a Deremer."

He wasn't sure that Theddor absorbed all he said. The young man couldn't take his eyes from the food; nor did his tongue stop licking his lips.

"It's beef, Theddor. Imagine savouring it on your tongue... the tantalising, luscious flavour of it. Cooked so slowly that it melts in your mouth, thickened with carrots and turnips and spices. Imagine relishing the creaminess... I feel sure there's spices in there. Can you smell them, Evern? Coriander, perhaps? Oh, that aroma...!"

Theddor leant against his chains, trying to reach the plate with his extended foot.

"I think I can tell you something you don't know," Herelt continued, keeping his tone casual. "It's only a guess, but I think I'm right. Your father won't explain to you the details of exactly how he extends his life, because he's afraid if you knew that, you might kill him. Just as he killed his father. He's doomed you, Theddor, all of you, when he asked you to use your coercion to raise fighting men for his cause."

"He'll tell me, when we've led our men to victory. When he rules the whole of the Va-cherished Hemisphere! He promised."

"Whether you're alive then, rather depends on me," he said. "The word of a Deremer, TheddorI won't kill you if you tell me all about twins and the Horned Death." He dipped a finger into the still-warm stew and wiped it, still dripping, across Theddor's tongue. The prisoner closed his eyes, his desire and need so great that Herelt grimaced.

"Come now, Theddor, if you eat, perhaps you'll be able to work out how to use your sorcery to break out of here. At the moment, there's one thing for sure: you have no resources to tap into sorcery at all. Tell me what I want to know." And I hope you are befuddled enough to believe that.

Evern picked up the dish and helped himself to a spoonful. "Ohhh, that is delicious. I reckon it's too good for him."

"He'll get it if he wants it," Herelt said. "But I'm certainly not going to stand here all day waiting. By all hogs and galls, this place stinks!"

"We can try asking another of Fox's sons," Evern suggested. "After all, we have several of them now." That was a lie, but Theddor had no way to know that.

"Good idea. All right, let's go. Bring that dish with you."

Evern's expression brightened and he bent to pick it up.

"No!"

"What?" Herelt asked, as Evern took no notice and lifted the dish to breathe in its aroma.

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything I know. Just let me eat something-"

"Give him a small sip, Evern," he said, "just the one. As a demonstration of our good will."

It took an hour of probing, of questions and cajoling, of threats and promises. And with each answer, Herelt's sense of urgency grew even as his sense of his own worthiness disappeared. By the time Theddor's story was finished, Evern sat with his back to the wall and his hands over his face.

When he was sure he had all he needed, Herelt unchained one of Theddor's arms and gave him the dish of food. "Enjoy it," he said. He hauled his brother to his feet and pushed him out of the cell.

With a jerk of his head, he indicated the two jailers were also to leave. Once they were all outside he made a gesture to one of them to take out his wax plug, then said, "Kill him. Use the pike. He's too dangerous to live."

"Now, my lord?"

"After you've put that plug back in your ear."

He watched as the man did as he was asked without a twitch of expression.

A true Dire Sweeper, he thought. Damn us all to perdition.

Theddor didn't look up until the jailer was swinging his pike at the side of his neck. His eyes just had time to widen, then he fell against his chains, choking, as blood spurted and the bowl of food crashed to the floor, spattering what was left of the beef and gravy into the mess in the straw at Theddor's feet.

"But, you said-" Evern whispered, staring white-faced from Theddor to him and back again.

He snorted. "Evern, the Deremers have no honour. Not any longer. The one thing we used to be so proud of is what we should have been most shamed by. By the time we've finished, the Deremer name will be reviled, and not one of us will be alive."

He looked back at Theddor. "Check that he's dead," he ordered. "Pity about the beef."

35.

Ardhi's Secret

Juster gave the orders: they would not stop in the Spicerie. They threaded their way through the pattern of islands, as far as possible offshore, even avoiding the fishing prau. When the winds dropped and they were becalmed, he had crewmen row the pinnace and the longboat to tow the ship.

"I think he wants those plumes of yours off Golden Petrel as soon as possible," Saker remarked to Ardhi.

For Sorrel, the days seemed endless. It was approaching a year since they had left Lowmeer, and she was tired of the confinement of a ship. When she could, she spent time with Ardhi, learning the language of Chenderawasi, on the assumption that anything that helped her communicate would in the end help Piper. She'd thought that the closer they came to the islands, the happier Ardhi would be, but the reverse was the case. As the days rolled by, he became more taciturn.

He'd told her all about himself and the death of the Raja. "And now I'm doing it again," he told her. "Bringing another ship from another land to my people with your guns and your greed."

Golden Petrel had a draught too deep for the river where the port buildings of Bandar Ruanakula lined the bank, so Ardhi piloted them safely through one of the breaks in the reef into the deeper end of a lagoon. The anchor splashed down, sending minnows darting through water as clear as glass. The light of late afternoon was luminous and warm, the sunset to come already promising a glory of colour-stained clouds along the horizon.

Pulau Chenderawasi. One large island in a chain of islands strung through the ocean like pearls and emeralds scattered in a sapphire sea: some rough cut and rocky, others smooth and flat; some draped with exuberant tropical growth, others trimmed and cultivated and thick with nutmeg trees. The air was heavy with the floral fragrance of the delicate bells of nutmeg flowers.

When Ardhi identified the aroma for them, there were tears in his eyes.

Safely within the confines of the reef-edged anchorage, they awaited the arrival of an official from the town. They could see some of the port buildings built on stilts over the water, with the curving prongs of roofs soaring up towards the sky at either end, like the horns of a new moon. From what Saker could see of them through the ship's spyglass, they were elaborately carved and painted, while the palm thatching was plaited in intricate designs.

Guilt stung Saker. And we call places like this Va-forsaken? What ignorant dewberries we are!

At his side, her hair blowing around her face in a dark halo, Sorrel stood watching a romp of otters on a white sand beach. She was wearing one of the silk gowns she'd obtained from Juster, but in the heat of the day she'd not tried to cover the low-cut bodice with her kerchief; she'd glamoured it instead. His breath caught in his throat, shocking him, and he had to look away. She's Sorrel; she's nothing more than a friend.

"It's so lovely," she said, speaking of the island, but then added in a whisper, "It scares me to death."

"If you're frightened, I think I should be petrified."

She gave him a puzzled look.

"You're normally so brave about everything," he explained.

"You jest, surely? I've not felt brave sincesince my daughter died. Not for a moment. Although..." She paused, searching for the right words. "I suppose at first her death made me careless of living, because living doesn't matter as much if you don't love someone. I wasn't scared so much as indifferent." She looked along the deck to where Ardhi was holding the child in his arms, pointing out the otters to her and telling her what they were called in his tongue. "But then," she said softly, "Piper came along, and I had a reason to livewithout ever being certain I could keep her safe. She calls me Ibu now. It means mother in Ardhi's tongue."

Her words awoke an ache inside Saker.

How often had he loved anyone? His family, not at all, except perhaps for an idolised vision of an absent motherwhich was a lie, anyway. Fritillary Reedling? Respected her, perhaps; admired even, but loved? She wasn't a woman who invited love. Gerelda, yes, for a time, but that had morphed into affection. Affection of a kind too, for Juster and Ardhi.

But Piper? Her, he loved. Real, unquestioning love. Perhaps it had a purity about it, because he sought nothing in return. She may have been his daughter; she may not have been. Her parentage was no longer relevant.

Mathilda. He'd loved her so much once, but the person he'd thought she was had never really existed. He'd replaced the reality with a dream, an illusion.

Sorrel... Back in Serinaga, when he'd seen her leap into the sea with the plumes in her hand, he'd felt his world cracking and been afraid it was about to shatter. She could have drowned so easily. The tide might have swept her away. She'd known all that when she'd jumpedand she'd leapt anyway. When he thought of all that could have happened, his breath caught.

Asleep, he sometimes dreamed of taking her to bed with an ardour so passionately unbridled it shocked him to acknowledge it even to himself. Awake, he remembered Sorrel knew everything about his irresponsible, immature idiocy with Mathildaand was embarrassed.

Hang you for a ninnyheaded dunce, Saker Rampion.

"Saker," she asked, "what do you fear most?"

"What this sakti Chenderawasi wants of us. It dragged us here for a reason."

"I worry if it wants Piper especially."

"We'll know soon, I suppose. That's what-"

The lookout in the crow's nest called down to the officer on watch, telling him boats were putting out from the port.

Ardhi came up then, to hand Piper over to Sorrel. "I not sure what will happen now," he said. "Many things can change." He gave a wistful smile as Juster joined them. "It's been years since I sailed away from Bandar Ruanakula."

"I hope they're happy to see you again," Juster said drily.

"They will be happy to see the Raja's regalia home, yes. I doubt they smile to see me again. I was dead to all here before I left."

He didn't know what he could say to that.

They watched the approaching craft. The first was a small decorated prau without a sail. The remaining four were all long war canoes, each paddled by twenty men arranged in twos. They sang a rhythmic song as they came, to match the beat of the paddles that they dug savagely into the water. An extra man in the stern managed a sweep.

Intimidation? Saker wondered. Or respect for a visitor? He was glad he was wearing his sword.

The prau was paddled by four men, all bare-chested, wearing sarongs of colourful cloth. Seated cross-legged in the centre was a middle-aged man. He was formally dressed in a suit of cloth, with matching cloth elaborately folded into winged headgear. He had three attendants with him, one of them a woman. Everyone on the prau had a sheathed dagger thrust through their cloth belts, including the woman.

As they came closer, Ardhi said, referring to the middle-aged man, "That's my eldest cousin. I glad to see he still alive."

"You have a large family?" Saker asked, and felt guilty because he knew so little about Ardhi's life. Did he have brothers? Sisters? Were his parents still alive? He didn't know. Perhaps it was his fault for never asking, or perhaps Ardhi's for being so secretive and private about his affairs.

Even then, Ardhi did not answer the question. "He's an important man here in Bandar Ruanakula." He thought for a moment. "Walikota. The head of the town?"

"Mayor," Juster said.

"Mayor, yes. It's honour that he comes to you, Cap'n Juster. You give him the gift."

Juster nodded. He was following all Ardhi's advice and had already prepared a present of embroidered silks and a set of steel knives. "How do I address him?"

"Tuan Sri. It is a title of respect. His name is Imbak, but do not use it. Speak to him in trade Pashali; he is fluent."

Saker glanced around. The crew were all on deck, dressed in their best garments, respectfully silent. A shade of silk had been stretched over the central part of the deck in anticipation of visitors, and the stuffed chairs from Juster's cabin had been brought out, laid on a Pashali carpet, all items purchased in Javenka to replace those lost or damaged in Karradar.

Finch said in his ear, "I hope all those fellows in the canoes aren't coming on board."

"They won't," Ardhi assured him.

Finch hadn't thought Ardhi would hear what he said, and stirred unhappily. "They look as though they'd gladly eat us for dinner."

"And they probably think your sailors will shoot us for any feathers we happen to have," Ardhi said, without looking at him.

"Maybe you're right at that," Finch said, rubbing his whiskered chin in mild embarrassment. "But I'm still going to tell the men to be on the alert."

Ardhi shrugged. "I'm sure the islanders are also alert."

As Juster turned his attention to the prau, now arriving at the foot of the pilot's steps, Ardhi said quietly to Saker, "Just make sure Captain Juster tells Tuan Sri Imbak that all four plumes are on board. Best you don't mention me."

Saker frowned. "Can't you tell him yourself?" he asked. But Ardhi had already turned away.

What the pox is going on?

The tension rose several notches when the dignitaries came on board, especially as the canoeswith their speed and chanting continuing unabatedbegan to circle Golden Petrel.

Definitely intimidation.

Juster greeted the arrivals with Chenderawasi words Ardhi had taught him. One of the dignitaries introduced the mayor, then the woman and the other man. "We are the mayor's advisers," he said. "We represent the Datu of the South."

Ardhi whispered a translation of this to Juster, after which Juster continued the conversation in Pashali with Saker at his shoulder in case he didn't understand something.