Andros took the papers and scanned the two sheets, showing an apparent ability to read. Rory suspected he had fallen in with a nest of spies. This had not been his plan, but Rory kept his face bland while he judged the idea of a running leap off the ship. How fast could he move away from the others who must be watching for some sign of trouble?
Andros's hand moved away from his blade. He handed the papers to Jamison, who passed them back to Rory. He carefully folded the papers, put them back in the spot in his boot, and pulled the thread as tight as possible. No one had said anything.
"Manti says you are also an Eket Priest," Andros said with a tilt of his head. "Isn't it unusual for a priest to do this work?"
"Yes," he replied and stood straighter. "But the need was obvious, and the Queen asked. Besides, I grew up clerking for my uncle, well-known for his ability to collect information. I was not known in the trade, but I knew it. And I knew names."
"And that is how you made contact with my people," Andros said with a nod. He frowned. "I would like to know who -- no, never mind. You are a professional. Go now with Lintin. He'll see you to the drylands."
"Manti?"
"Go," he said. "Take what news you can to your father, and he'll pass it on to mine. I'm staying with the ship until I can get her free and head home again."
Rory thought they might have exchanged some special code. Jamison nodded, and Keltrina recovered their packs. They were going down the gangplank all too soon, and Rory realized it would be a long time before they had even that much comfort.
The ground was soggy, the plants caught at him, and he was less than enthralled with the insects and the snakes. The bird was too noisy, and the smaller animals were apt to leap from branch to branch and look as though they might fall on the humans. And it rained. And rained.
Lintin said nothing as he led the way. Neither did they. Keltrina was starting to wear down, though, by mid-afternoon. In truth, so was Rory.
An hour later, they reached an island that not only rose a few feet above the muck but even had a reasonably well-made building atop it. People had gathered on benches by a fire, sometimes laughing, though otherwise, they were quiet.
"We'll stay here for the night," Lintin said, almost the first words he'd spoken since he had led the three away from the boat. He glanced at the sky. "If it still rains tomorrow, we'll stay longer."
"I don't know if I should pray for rain or not," Jamison admitted. "But I am beyond thankful to see a roof for a while."
Lintin gave a nod of agreement. They were already up on dry land. Rory wanted to hurry, but the others must have felt weighed down by the mud they'd gathered. He did admit it was challenging to trudge up the last of the trail toward that inviting fire. Rory hadn't realized how chilled he felt until they began to slow down.
They didn't stop at the fire, although Lintin gave a few greetings to others. The three strangers with him drew stares that were not as accepting as Rory would have liked. Then he recalled that these people were pirates and hunted by two or three governments. The papers in his boot suddenly felt like a warrant for his death.
Lintin led them into the building and seemed to relax for the first time. He nodded toward several large chests against the wall.
"Find something you can wear and clean up. Someone will bring you warm water to the dressing rooms." He waved a hand toward two cloth-covered doors. "I need to check in with the Admiral and find out if there's any news from the inland."
Lintin turned and hurried away. Rory watched with trepidation, but that was just his way. Keltrina was already looking for clothing, and Jamison joined her. Rory wandered over and made a show of looking for clothing, but mostly he watched the furtive movements of people and listened to their whispers. There were no signs of trouble.
He waved to Jamison and Keltrina to clean up and change first. He searched diligently for something to wear and found a dark tunic, woolen breeches, and good socks. Of course, he wouldn't part with his boots, and the vest wouldn't be hard to clean up.
Jamison came out first and looked much better. Rory left him to guard and went into the tiny cubicle. Someone handed him warm, clean water, and he dumped the other down the drain. The small mirror showed a face he might not have recognized under the layer of mud. A couple leaves had taken up residence in his hair, and he might have been a walking tree.
Rory worked as fast as he could to clean up. He'd made nothing of the wound Kellic had given him during this mess. It hadn't bled much and didn't look infected. Rory found as much bruising as mud on his face and arms. The clothes were a complete loss. The boots had taken a beating, too, but they were intact.
Rory could hear Keltrina and Jamison talking, so he hurried. They'd provided a shaving blade, which he fully appreciated. His temple prized cleanliness and clean, shaved faces.
He hadn't felt so far from Eket until now. Why hadn't he gone off on his own? Maybe now was the time.
He pushed aside the curtain, and someone grabbed his arms and pinned them to his back.
"Rory Callen, as I live and breathe. Give me a reason not to gut you right now."
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