“Our spirits come with us,” Lyra informed him in no-nonsense tones.
The guard sighed. “I was asked only to request it. Enter.”
The stone and wood edifice was something more than a house and a good deal less than a palace, but was no doubt the best a small town like Aib could afford. Although the matter of their boat’s whereabouts occupied most of his thoughts, Etienne still managed to note the mixture of envy and distaste with which the local Mai viewed the Tsla.
As Etienne had expected, Gwattwe had been there all along. Etienne thought he looked unwell, as if all the traditional bravado had been knocked out of him. Strange. If he intended to bargain for the missing hydrofoil he was beginning badly.
“Where is it?” he snapped at the Oyt, in no mood for protocol.
“I do not have to guess to what you refer,” said the Oyt tiredly. “Your spirit boat is not here.”
“You stole it,” Etienne growled. “We trusted you, we left payment as security for that trust which you betrayed. You promised that our property would come to no harm.”
“I lied,” said Gwattwe.
Venerable mastery of diplomacy, Etienne mused sardonically. But this wasn’t what he’d anticipated when they’d entered the town. Something was wrong here.
“Where have you hidden it?”
“We do not have your spirit boat.” Gwattwe executed a most profound gesture of regret and helplessness. Tyl was watching him carefully.
“I believed you when you offered us assurances. Why should I believe you when you offer disclaimers?”
“It matters not whether you believe me. We do not have your boat. We did not steal it. Oh, we tried to.” His expression turned sour. “Most assuredly we tried. Your spirits slew my advisor and several of his students, one at a time.” He paused, but if he was expecting some word of contrition from Etienne he was going to have a long wait. He continued.
“We tried everything that we could think of, but we never had a glimpse of the spirits that watched over your vessel, nor of how they slew.” He rose from his couch and balding houris rolled clear of his feet.
“Then where’s our boat?”
“It pains me to have to tell you that it was stolen.”
“But not by you?”
“Not by us. Why do you think it pains me?” Clearly Gwattwe of Aib was distressed only because another had succeeded where he had failed.
“When I lost my best advisors in matters spirit-wise I finally resolved to contact the renowned Davahassi, who is head advisor to Langai of Hochac.”
Tyl leaned close to Etienne and spoke in Mai. “Hochac is a very bad place. It lies a few legats north of the place where the Aurang flows into the Skar. We rarely trade with them, for the people there are mean of spirit and sometimes prefer to kill for what they want rather than pay for it as many Mai are wont to do.”
Etienne saw Homat stiffen, but the guide held his tongue. He would have to convince Tyl to be a little more circumspect in his comments concerning the Mai whenever Homat was around.
“It was hoped that Davahassi might solve the secret of your spirit boat as he has traveled widely and gained much knowledge. He came down by boat with Langai himself and a large escort of advisors. I was suspicious then but didn’t know what else to do.
“They studied your spirit boat for many days and buried three advisors of their own in the river before Davahassi hit upon his plan. The secret, he announced, was to leave the spirits that protected your vessel in place and not to intrude on their privacy, for clearly the craft was their home and they defended it as such from any intruder. But that did not mean that the home itself could not be moved, provided the spirits within were left undisturbed.
“Therefore at his instructions Langai had a great wooden cage constructed. Many spells were then placed upon the spirit boat as the cage was placed around it and bound in place. It was then dragged from its home, the water, and placed on a platform whence it was transported to the center of Aib. It sat right there while we all celebrated.” He pointed toward the town square outside the official residence.
“During the celebration our spirits were high. All would share in the profit from this action. We relaxed with our good ‘friends.’ Davahassi, may his entrails entice parasites, drugged our fine wine. When we awoke the next day it was found that Langai and his advisors had slipped the spirit boat back into the river. The wooden platform on which it had been placed apparently made a most delighted raft that they used to carry their booty homeward, like carrion eaters.
“We pursued, but too late, and Langai had stationed soldiers in the hills between here and Hochac. Certainly we could not have approached by water in time to intercept them.” He concluded his tale of woe and lost opportunity with the Mai equivalent of a disgruntled shrug.
“You see, we did not steal your boat, but it was not for want of trying.”
“How noble of you to say so.”
“A wooden cage,” Lyra murmured. “Wood’s a rotten conductor. Once out of the water they’d be safe enough so long as they didn’t make contact with the hull.”
‘“Left the spirits in peace,’” Etienne repeated. “That explains what happened. Nothing’s wrong with the ship’s defensive systems. They just avoided provoking them. I never thought the locals would have enough sense to move the whole boat without trying to get aboard and at the controls or contents.” He turned back to Gwattwe.
“We’d like your help in recovering our property. You can compensate for your own attempted thievery and earn your fee by providing us with a troop of soldiers to help us assault Hochac.”
“Would that such a thing were feasible,” Gwattwe murmured. “I would do it for the chance at revenge alone, but Hochac is not Aib, hairy one. It is not much larger but it is far stronger. It would take many more soldiers than Aib could provide to overcome it, for Hochac is a walled town and heavily defended. Otherwise it could not withstand the attentions of its neighbors, whom it makes a practice of bullying and defrauding. The Hochacites are known for their love of battle. We of Aib are a peaceful folk.”
“Sticky fingers and now sticky feet.” A hand came down gently on his shoulder.
“Perhaps,” Tyl whispered to him in Tsla so that Gwattwe could not understand, “it might be better for us just to go. The Hochacites may be expecting a big attack. If we approach with patience and caution, we may surprise them. But do not inform this one of our intentions: Like all his kind, he may yet find profit in selling such information to those who have already stolen from him. Feuds are like chaff to the Mai, and as permanent as their promises.”
Etienne turned back to the waiting Oyt. “As we apparently have lost our craft and cannot recover it, we must return Downriver to the Groalamasan and our base in order to obtain another. You owe us for what we already have paid you.”
“I do not deny that. Business is business,” Gwattwe readily admitted.
“We will accept recompense in the form of a couple of river-worthy sailing craft so that we may safely return Downriver.”
Gwattwe looked relieved, if not downright pleased. “That is fair,” he said quickly. “The craft you wish will be provided. And may you have a safe journey Downriver.”
Safe it would be, Etienne mused, but they had no intention of heading south.
Having no reason to ply the Skar, the Tsla were not very good sailors. But Homat felt right at home. With his help, both small boats managed to make their way slowly Upriver.
