When Juliassa had run from the house, Zeenia had gone to the girl's room, where she'd found a man's boots, and a belt on the floor with a pouch and her gold. It seemed to her that it had to be Tirros. By that time some of the staff, roused by the screaming, were coming in from the staff cottages. Jonkka, sword in hand, was already out searching the garden; she sent others to help him and to search the buildings. Tirros, or whoever, might be hiding in a shed or loft.
Then she'd questioned the gate guard and learned of Tirros's arrival; that settled any question of identity. After a quarter hour, the men who'd searched the grounds and buildings had all reported; they'd found nothing. Meanwhile she'd ordered Jonkka with three other men up the road on kaabor-back with torches. Tirros might not be terribly bright, but he should have enough animal cunning to head for the night-bound plateau to lose himself.
About a half hour after the alarm, one of the searchers came in to mention something he'd noticed that he hadn't thought to mention earlier: There'd been the tracks of two sets of bare feet crossing the beach into the water. Tracks of bare feet were hardly unusual on the beach, but it occurred to him afterward that these had continued out onto sand that had been washed clear by the last high tide. That's what had made them noticeable.
Sword in hand, he'd gone back to look again, and this time it struck him that both sets had been made by running feet; the strides had been long, and one set was definitely a man's while the other was probably a woman's. No, one hadn't seemed to be following the other; they'd been parallel about eighty feet apart. No, they hadn't seemed to be converging; only forty or fifty feet of them were apparent, but what there were were parallel.
Her own sword in hand, Zeenia went with him to the beach to see for herself, meanwhile reviewing the situation in her mind. She was short on manpower now. Four men were somewhere up the road on kaabors. She'd posted a man with a lantern on each wall to watch for anyone approaching, and sentries at their beach ends to prevent anyone from sneaking around them. That left her with three men uncommitted.
She looked at the tracks. It certainly didn't look as if one person had been chasing the other, And Juliassa swam like a sellsu; Zeenia doubted that Tirros could catch her in the water. Unless he caught her in the shallows.
As she stood looking, it occurred to her that the man had been limping! And apparently running more slowly than the woman. His strides were shorter: some were five feet long, the alternate strides less than four.
Which was encouraging. That and the fact they'd crossed the beach so far apart.
But then, where in the name of Hrum was Juliassa? If he hadn't caught her?
Zeenia ground her teeth, then went back to the villa and got another man with a sword, and they hunted the beach for a little distance in each direction. There were no tracks, but that wasn't surprising. The tide was coming in; it would have washed out any tracks unless they'd been made well back from the water.
Zeenia stood looking bleakly out to sea. Would the tide wash Juliassa's body up on the beach? Or was she simply hiding off the grounds somewhere, afraid Tirros would find her if she tried to come back?
And what in Hrum's name had possessed the child to run out into the ocean? Why hadn't she come to her?
She ended up sending two men south along the beach, looking. The third she kept on the grounds, armed and watchful, just in case. On an impulse, she lit a lantern then and went to Juliassa's room to examine it. To see if there might be blood she hadn't noticed before; Juliassa might have been hurt. Instead of blood she found the vial, and somehow knew what it held, felt certain. The smell resembled lamb foil a bit, and she wasn't about to taste it.
It seemed certain to her now that if Tirros caught Juliassa, he'd kill her when he was done with her, to keep her quiet.
As big and unpleasant as Tirros was, Zeenia had never been afraid of him before. Now she was. To her, he'd ceased to be a nasty, rather vicious delinquent. He'd become a murderous psychotic. She had all the women gather in the big sitting room of the villa; she didn't want any of them found dead in the morning.
After a bit, the two men came back from the beach to report they'd been pinched out by the rising tide, first to the south and then to the north. And had seen nothing. The four men came back from the plateau to report that they hadn't seen anything either. Jonkka seemed more murderous now than Tirros could ever be. He went out and paced the beach, sword in hand.
It was a nerve-wracking night for Zeenia Hanorissia, waiting for the tide to ebb enough to send three mounted men shouting up the beach in each direction. They wouldn't be looking for Tirros, but for Juliassa.
Juliassa never heard them calling. She was sleeping off the drug. Jonkka's party rode almost two miles south—as far as the sea allowed, wading in places—found nothing, and came back by dawnlight.
* * *
Filthy and bedraggled, Juliassa limped home at midday with a horrible headache and legs sore from her wild run. She told her aunt what had happened, then went to bed. Zeenia wrote a brief, inexplicit report on separate slips of delicate paper and sent them north on a pair of kiruu. Tirros, she said, had come to the compound at night, robbed her, done other serious mischief, and fled.
No one at Sea Cliff knew what had actually happened except she and Juliassa, though there may well have been some guessing done. Certainly if Jonkka had found Tirros, the least resistance or effort to flee would have left the mirj dead, amirr's son or not.
* * *
The day after that, Juliassa rode to Theedalit, accompanied by Jonkka and another guard, starting after an early breakfast. She'd told her aunt she didn't want to stay at Sea Cliff anymore. It wasn't a matter of fear; somehow the place was spoiled for her now, she said.
That was only part of the truth. The other part was that she'd gone there under duress, and now she had a reason to leave. She'd actually recovered her normal mood and tone to a surprising degree. Zeenia had assumed she was putting it on. As well as she knew Juliassa, who was one of her favorite people, she didn't realize how strong and resilient the girl was.
Juliassa's mother had heard about Tirros's visit to Sea Cliff. The amirr had referred to it as "Tirros's raid." Both assumed that the "other serious mischief" had been vandalism. When Juliassa arrived, she did not enlighten her mother. She felt, however, that her father needed to know. He needed to know how criminal her brother had become (she wasn't aware of his other crimes), and she needed to give him a reason for having left Sea Cliff.
So she went to the Fortress, hoping to have lunch with him. His Eminence, she was told, was closeted with Eltrienn Cadriio, and no, the amirr had not eaten lunch. She settled herself in the waiting room where Eltrienn would pass; it occurred to her that she had something to say to him too.
She didn't wait long; Eltrienn came out and they went onto the wall together. As they stepped out, a thundershower was just beginning, the first big drops splatting, and they hurried through the quickly-thickening fell to a red and white-striped awning, where they sat down to watch slanting spears of rain shatter on the stone.
"What is it you want, Juliassa?" he asked.
"I wish to continue seeing Ambassador Brokols. I've had only two opportunities to talk with him since he left Sea Cliff. But my father said I wasn't to, and sent me to stay with my aunt Zeenia. I've just come back today."
The centurion's eyebrows raised.
"I was hoping you'd speak to my father for me, and use your influence to change his mind." She took the centurion's large left hand in both of hers. "I know I shouldn't ask you this, but I don't know who else could help."
Eltrienn was frowning now. "And what would you have me say, namirrna?" he answered stiffly. "It would be entirely out of place for me to advise him on family matters, or even bring up such a thing. He would not appreciate it."
Her expression was forlorn. The centurion didn't know if it was genuine or feigned.
"Well then, could you just mention to him that you'd seen me? And that I'd asked you? Please?"
Feigned, he decided. Even as a child, she'd known how to get the staff and the guard detail to do what she wanted. And been smart enough to use her talent sparingly.
The shower had already passed, leaving behind the smell of ozone, and Eltrienn got up to leave. "I'll consider it," he said. "I'm to see him again this afternoon. Whether I mention it or not will depend on his mood at the time. It seems very doubtful that I will."
She nodded soberly. "And Eltrienn . . ."
"Yes?"
Her gaze on the table, she didn't continue at once, then said, "Thank you for considering it. I know it's unfair to have asked. I just didn't know what . . ."
"You're welcome, namirrna," he interrupted. "And you're right; it was unfair."
But when he left, he was considering how he might phrase such a comment to the amirr.
* * *
Her father ordered lunch set for his daughter and himself on the wall, where they might eat together undisturbed. He was prepared to be upset with her for leaving Sea Cliff, but would withhold judgement until she'd told him why. And because her explanation might well anger him, he'd postpone asking till they'd finished eating. Meanwhile he'd find out what the "serious mischief" was that Tirros had done.
"So," he said, "Zeenia messaged me that Tirros made trouble at Sea Cliff, but she didn't tell me what. Was there much damage?"
"There was no damage," she answered. "He stole a purse of gold, but he even dropped that when he fled."
"She wrote that he'd done other serious mischief."
"Nothing material. Although he tried to." She looked at her father, caught and held his eyes, then told him what had happened. Before she'd finished, his face had turned nearly white. She'd expected him to be scarlet with rage.
He's shocked by how close I was to being killed, she thought, and the realization affected her. She reached and laid her hand on his.
"So I swam out through the surf, which was high," she went on, "swam south as long as I dared, then went ashore again and ran south along the beach. The tide was rising, and I ran in the edge of the runout so I wouldn't leave tracks. Finally I climbed up a break in the cliff and went to sleep among the rocks. I was deathly sick when I woke up, but after a while I went home. Zeenia gave me a potion and put me to bed.
"Tirros either went up the creek onto the plateau or north up the beach. There weren't any tracks. But he has no kaabor, and he lost his belt with his belt pouch and knife, so he's out there with nothing."
The color had returned to Leonessto's face, and there was cold doom in his eyes. Tirros's other crimes had been bad enough, but this . . .
"Father?"
His eyes focused on her again.
"May I stay at home for a while? Here in Theedalit? After what happened, I—don't like Sea Cliff anymore. I think I will again, after a bit, but right now . . ."
He nodded. "As you wish," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my office. By myself. To meditate and see if I can find the peace of Hrum again." He got to his feet. "Shall I ask Allbarin to eat lunch with you? Or would you rather eat alone?"
"Send Allbarin," she said, "if he wouldn't mind. We haven't talked much since I was a child."
The amirr turned to the door, thinking he meditated far too seldom anymore. But even the peace of Hrum, he told himself, would not save Tirros now.
Juliassa watched him leave without bringing up the matter of Brokols. Her father didn't need any more unpleasantness.
* * *
Brokols had an unusual dream that night. Unusual in its seeming reality. Only the viewpoint was unreal, shifting from place to place, mostly as if he watched from half a hundred feet above the ground.
The invasion force was mustering, its columns clogging the roads to Larvis Harbor. His oldest brother was there, a brigadier of artillery now, giving orders. In the fields near the encampment, farm crews were harvesting lenn, stacking the cut vines to dry, piling them loosely on branched poles as high as their pitchforks could reach. It seemed he could even smell the vines.
And the harbor was full of tall ships.
Brokols awoke to morning birdsong, the images persisting. He felt sure that somehow what he'd seen was real. Or would be. Lenn harvest was in late summer. With a voyage of, say, sixty days, it seemed to him the fleet would arrive at the Djezian coast before mid-autumn. And it didn't seem at all that it would be autumn a year removed.
He'd go to the Fortress right after breakfast, he decided, and tell Allbarin.
* * *
The next evening after supper, Eltrienn was leaving the officer's messroom, preoccupied with what he planned to do next, when Brokols called to him. He looked around, did a double-take; so far as he knew, the Almite had never visited the military compound before.
"Elver! What are you doing here?" His expression was neutral, concealing a certain exasperation; he had a lot to do and was feeling rushed.
"I've come to see you. Reeno mentioned that you were back." He gestured at Venreeno. "I presume you know each other."
"Right." The two Hrummeans shook hands.
"There was another public meeting in the square when we were leaving for supper," Brokols said. "There must have been fifteen hundred people there. And it seemed to me that . . ." He paused. He knew what he wanted to ask, and why, but he hadn't yet spotted what lay beneath it. "I wondered if you'd be so good as to talk with me about the sages. I mean—Panni once came to my apartment to talk with me, and I must say I felt much better afterward. While Vessto is hostile. I feel that one day I'll need to go see him again, and talk things out with him. But I still know so little about them—Vessto and Panni—and nothing at all about Tassi Vermaatio."
Brokols stopped, feeling suddenly that he'd come there half cocked.
It seemed to the centurion that Brokols' reason was trivial. He put a hand on the Almite's shoulder. "Elver, I'd like to help you, but I just don't have time. I leave tomorrow on a new assignment, and there are things I have to take care of this evening."
I've been imposing, Brokols told himself, and an old discomfort flowed through him. "Of course," he said. "Eltrienn, my apologies. And every success in your new assignment. You've been a world of help to me, and a good friend." He reached out and they shook hands. Then he and Reeno turned and left.
Eltrienn watched them go. He'd been briefed by Allbarin on what Brokols had committed to do, and had some notion of what the Almite might be going through personally. He had to be groping, looking for meanings. Perhaps I should have taken the time, done as he asked, he thought. He'd see what time it was when he came back from talking with Vessto.