‘How did you make out?’ Kalten asked.

Senga grinned, rolled his eyes and jingled a heavy purse. ‘Well enough to make me consider giving up crime and opening my own brewery. The only problem with that is the fact that our friends at Natayos probably won’t be there all that much longer. If I set up shop as a brewer and my customers all marched off to get killed by the Atans, I’d probably have to drink all that ale by myself, and nobody’s that thirsty.’

‘Oh? What makes you think those rebels are getting ready to leave?’

‘Nothing very specific,’ Senga said, sprawling out on the ground and offering Kalten his wineskin. ‘Scarpa’s been gone for the past several weeks. He and two or three Elenes left Natayos last month, and nobody I talked with knew where he was going or why.’

Kalten carefully kept his expression disinterested. ‘I hear that he’s crazy. Crazy men don’t need reasons for the things they do or the places they go.’

‘Scarpa’s crazy enough, all right, but he can certainly whip those rebels of his into a frenzy. When he decides to make a speech, you’d better find a comfortable place to sit, because you’re going to be there for six hours at least. Anyway, he went off a while back, and his army was getting settled in for the winter. That’s all changed now that he’s back.’

Kalten became very alert. ‘He’s come back?’

‘That he has, my friend. Here, give us a drink.’ Senga took the wineskin and tipped it up, squirting a long stream of wine into his mouth. Then he wiped his chin on the back of his hand. ‘He and those Elene friends of his came riding into Natayos not four days ago. They had a couple of women with them, I hear.’

Kalten sank down on the ground and made some show of adjusting his sword-belt to cover his sudden excitement. ‘I thought Scarpa hated women,’ he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

‘Oh, that he does, my friend, but from what I hear, these two women weren’t just some playthings he picked up along the way. They had their hands tied, for one thing, and the fellow I talked with said that they were a little bedraggled, but they didn’t really look like tavern wenches. He didn’t get a very good look at them, because Scarpa hustled them into a house that seems to have been fixed up for somebody a little special – fancy furniture and rugs on the floor and all that.’

‘Was there anything unusual about them?’ Kalten almost held his breath.

Senga shrugged and took another drink. ‘Just the fact that they weren’t treated like ordinary camp followers, I suppose.’ He scratched his head. ‘There was something else the fellow told me,’ he said. ‘What was it now?’

Kalten did hold his breath this time.

‘Oh, yes,’ Senga said, ‘now I remember. The fellow said that these two women Scarpa took all the trouble to invite to Natayos were Elenes. Isn’t that odd?’

Chapter 9

The town of Beresa on the southeastern Arjuni coast was a low, unlovely place squatting toadlike on the beach lying between the South Tamul Sea and the swampy green jungle behind it. The major industry of the region was the production of charcoal, and acrid smoke hung in the humid air over Beresa like a curse.

Captain Sorgi dropped his anchor some distance out from the wharves and went ashore to consult with the harbor master.

Sparhawk, Stragen, and Talen, wearing their canvas smocks, leaned on the port rail staring across the smelly water toward their destination. I have an absolutely splendid idea, Fron,’ Stragen said to Sparhawk.

‘Oh?’ Sparhawk replied.

‘Why don’t we jump ship?’

‘Nice try, Vymer,’ Talen laughed. They were all more or less at ease with the assumed names by now.

Sparhawk looked around carefully to make sure that none of the rest of the crew was near. ‘An ordinary sailor wouldn’t leave without collecting his pay. Let’s not do anything to attract attention. All that’s really left to do is the unloading of the cargo.’

‘Under the threat of the bo’sun’s whip,’ Stragen added glumly. ‘That man really tests my self-control. Just the sight of him makes me want to kill him.’

‘We can endure him this one last time,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘This town’s going to be full of unfriendly eyes. Krager’s note told me to come here, and he’ll have people here to make sure I’m not trying to sneak in reinforcements behind his back.’

‘That might just be the flaw in this whole plan, Fron,’ Stragen said. ‘Sorgi knows that we’re not ordinary sailors. Is he the kind to let things slip?’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Sorgi knows how to keep his mouth shut. He was paid to get us to Beresa unnoticed, and Sorgi always does what he’s paid to do.’

The captain returned late that afternoon, and they raised anchor and eased up to one of the long wharves protruding out into the harbor. They unloaded the cargo the next morning. The bo’sun cracked his whip only sparingly, and the unloading proceeded rapidly.

Then, when the cargo holds were all emptied, the sailors lined up and filed along the quarterdeck where Sorgi sat at a small table with his account book and his stacks of coins. The captain gave each sailor a little speech as he paid him. The speeches varied slightly, but the general message was the same: ‘Stay out of trouble, and get back to the ship on time. I won’t wait for you when the time comes to sail.’ He did not alter the speech when he paid Sparhawk and his friends, and his face did not in any way betray the fact they were anything other than ordinary crew members.

Sparhawk and his two friends went down the gangway with their sea-bags on their shoulders and with a certain amount of anticipation. ‘Now I see why sailors are so rowdy when they reach port,’ Sparhawk said. ‘That wasn’t really much of a voyage, and I still feel a powerful urge to kick over the traces.’

‘Where to?’ Talen asked when they reached the street.

‘There’s an inn called the Seaman’s Rest,’ Stragen replied. ‘It’s supposed to be a clean, quiet place out beyond the main battle zone here along the waterfront. It should give us a base of operations to work from.’

The sun was just going down as they passed through the noisy, reeking streets of Beresa. The buildings were constructed for the most part of squared-off logs, since stone was rare here on the vast, soggy delta of the Arjun River, and the logs appeared to have been attacked by damp rot almost before they were in place. Moss and fungus grew everywhere, and the air was thick with the chill damp and the acrid wood smoke from the charcoal yards outside of town. The Arjunis in the streets were noticeably more swarthy than their Tamul cousins of the north; their eyes were shifty; and even their most casual gait through the muddy streets of their unlovely town seemed somehow furtive.