‘We’ve got an agreement with them,’ Narstil replied. ‘We don’t steal from them, and they leave us alone. That’s not a real army in Natayos, though. It’s more like a large band of rebels. They want to overthrow the government.’
‘Doesn’t everybody?’
Narstil laughed. ‘Actually, having that mob in Natayos is very good for my business. The fact that they’re all there keeps the police out of this part of the jungle, and one of the reasons they tolerate us is because we rob travelers, and that keeps people from snooping around Natayos. We do a fairly brisk business with them. They’re a ready market for just about everything we steal.’
‘How far is this Natayos place from here?’
‘About ten miles. It’s an old ruin. Scarpa – he’s the one in charge over there – moved in with his rebels a couple of years back. He’s fortified it, and he’s bringing in more of his followers every day. I don’t care much for him, but business is business.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘He’s crazy. Some days he’s so crazy that he bays at the moon. He’s convinced that he’ll be emperor one day, and I expect it won’t be long until he marches his rabble out of those ruins. He’s fairly safe in this jungle, but just as soon as he gets out into open country, the Atans will grind him into dog meat right on the spot.’
‘Are we supposed to care about that?’ Bevier asked.
‘I personally couldn’t care less,’ Narstil assured the apparently one-eyed ruffian. ‘It’s the loss of his business that concerns me.’
‘Can just anybody walk in and out of Natayos any time he feels like it?’ Kalten asked as if only mildly curious.
‘If you’re leading a mule loaded down with food or drink, they’ll welcome you with open arms. I send an ox-cart loaded down with barrels of ale every few days. You know how soldiers like their ale.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Kalten agreed. ‘I’ve known a few soldiers in my time, and their whole world stops when somebody opens an ale barrel.’
‘It doth derive from our ability to control the light which doth emanate from us,’ Cedon explained. ‘What we call sight is profoundly influenced by light. The subterfuge is not perfect. Some faint shimmers do appear, and we must be wary lest our shadows reveal our presence, but with a certain care, we can be unobserved.’
‘Now there are some interesting contrasts,’ Aphrael said. ‘The Troll-Gods tamper with time, you tamper with light, and I tamper with the attention of the people I want to hide from, but it’s all an attempt to achieve some measure of invisibility.’
‘Knowest thou of any who can be truly invisible, Divine One?’ Xanetia asked.
‘I don’t. Do you, Cousin?’
Edaemus shook his head.
‘We can come close, though,’ the Child Goddess said. The real thing would probably have drawbacks. It’s a very good idea, Anari Cedon, but I don’t want Xanetia to put herself in any kind of danger. I love her too much for that.’
Xanetia flushed slightly, and then she gave Edaemus an almost guilty look. Sephrenia laughed. ‘I must in honesty warn thee, Edaemus,’ she said. ‘Guard well thy worshippers. My Goddess is a notorious thief.’ She frowned thoughtfully. ‘If Xanetia could go unobserved into Sopal, it could be very useful. Her ability to reach into the thoughts of others would enable her to discover in short order whether Ehlana’s there or not. If she is, we can take steps. If not, we’ll know that Sopal’s just another diversion.’
Cedon looked at Edaemus. ‘I think, Beloved One, that we must extend our involvement in the world around us further than we had earlier planned. Anakha’s concern for the safety of his wife doth take precedence in his mind o’er all else, and his promise to us doth stand in peril until she be returned to him safe and whole.’
Edaemus sighed. ‘It may be e’en as thou sayest, my Anari. Though it doth make me unquiet, it would appear that we must set aside our repugnance and join in the search for Anakha’s wife, lending such aid as is within our power.’
‘Are you really sure you want to become involved in this, Edaemus?’ Aphrael asked him. ‘Really, really sure?’
‘I have said it, Aphrael.’
‘Aren’t you the least bit interested in why I’m so concerned with the fate of a pair of Elenes? Elenes do have their own God, you know. Why do you imagine that I’d be so interested in them?’
‘Why is it ever thy wont to speak circuitously, Aphrael?’
‘Because I love to surprise people,’ she replied sweetly. ‘I really do want to thank you for your concern about the well-being of my mother and father, Cousin. You’ve touched me to the very heart.’
He stared at her in stunned astonishment. ‘Thou didst not!’ he gasped.
‘Somebody had to do it.’ She shrugged. ‘One of us had to keep an eye on Bhelliom. Anakha is Bhelliom’s creature, but as long as I have my hand around his heart, I can more or less control the things he does.’
‘But they’re Elenes!’
‘Oh, grow up, Edaemus. Elene, Styric, Delphae – what difference does it make? You can love all of them if your heart’s not closed.’
‘But they eat pigs!’
‘I know,’ she shuddered. ‘Believe me, I know. It’s one of the things I’ve been working on.’
Senga was a good-natured brigand whose racial origins were so mixed that no one could really tell what he was. He grinned a great deal, and he was loud and boisterous and had an infectious laugh. Kalten liked him, and Senga appeared to have found a kindred spirit in the Elene outlaw he knew as Col. He was laughing as he came across Narstil’s cluttered compound where furniture and other household goods were stacked in large, untidy heaps on the bare ground. ‘Ho, Col!’ he shouted as he approached the tree where Kalten, Caalador, and Bevier had pitched their tent. ‘You should have come along. An ox-cart load of ale opens every door in Natayos.’
‘Armies make me nervous, Senga,’ Kalten replied. The officers are always trying to enlist you – usually at sword-point – and generals as a group tend to be overly moralistic for my taste. The term “martial law” makes my blood run cold for some reason.’
‘Scarpa grew up in a tavern, my friend,’ Senga assured him, ‘and his mother was a whore, so he’s accustomed to the seamier side of human nature.’