Shadows, стр. 14

“I—of course, lord.”

“Good. You may go now, Nomi.”

The chambers he occupied had been cut into the plateau against which Imsurmik had been built and were well elevated from the level of the Outer City, thereby keeping the stench of open sewers away from the wealthy and powerful. As a further division, a glacis wall separated the filthy inhabitants of the Outer City—which was mostly a ramshackle slum interspersed with fields—from the tidy and well-kept streets of the Inner City. Yukannak stepped through the heavy wooden door of his quarters into a wide tunnel lit by lanterns and open shafts cleverly cut into the rock ceiling. Those led to the surface some ninety feet above and reflected sunlight into the tunnel using a series of mirrors. The mouth of the tunnel exited onto a narrow viewing platform. Looking right, he could see over the Outer City. To his front lay the Inner City, the wall, and irrigated farmland, with the river beyond them. Marshland protected the city on his far left. Stairs carved into the rock led down the right side of the platform to a back alley of the Inner City.

He emerged onto the platform and was pleased to discover that the brute he had expected—a person of some significance named Waornaak—was at least punctual. More cunning than smart, the hulking militia leader had earlier arranged a meeting to ingratiate himself with the silci. Judging that Waornaak’s loyalty was something purchased, not earned, Yukannak had immediately given him a task. He suspected a trap, of course, and so set one in return. Now, after glancing about as if making sure that nobody could eavesdrop, Yukannak asked in a low voice, “How goes the collecting?”

“Some of the medicinals are in bigger quantities than we expected.”

“Which ones?”

“It’s not my job to keep all those names straight. I only care that the Harvesters get what they need when they need it.”

“And I can assure you they appreciate it.”

Squinting with his left eye, Waornaak sucked his teeth, something Yukannak found disgusting. “By ‘they’ don’t you mean ‘we?’”

He’s not as stupid as I thought. Ignoring the comment, Yukannak pushed back against the man’s impertinence. “The silci doesn’t answer questions, he asks them. Now, what do you have for me? I spoke fine words about you to the satrap. Do not make me retract them; I would not like it.”

Waornaak made a low sound like a growl but swallowed whatever he might have said. “Since I’ve been here, I’ve heard hints and rumors of a secret cache somewhere. No mention of what it is, or where it is, until late last night. An apprentice of one of the F’ahdn’s Masters of Healing got into the medicinals and took too much—a lot too much. He started babbling, but within all that nonsense, there was mention of this secret stash, and it didn’t sound like it was plants or medicines. More like…I don’t know; just not plants. He used a word I hadn’t heard before: hyshvass. Does that make sense to you?”

“Hyshvass? It is an archaic word that means ‘archive.’” A word from the older languages. Yukannak cocked his head slightly toward the larger man. No twitch of the eye or flaring nostril betrayed his suddenly racing heart. “Are you certain that was the word?”

“I had to ask him to repeat it, so, yeah, I’m sure.”

“An archive…” He snapped out of his thinking with a more intense tone. “Where is this secret cache? Did he say?”

“No.”

“Find him and find out.”

“That risks the F’ahdn discovering what I’m up to.”

“Then I suggest you be careful. Is there anything else?”

“We might have spies in the city, too.”

“Spies? What do you mean?”

“I caught a woman looking around where she shouldn’t be. She had her face wrapped, so I couldn’t tell what tribe she was from, but there was something about her I didn’t like.”

“Have you seen her since?”

“She’s around.”

“Be wary of her then; she might be working for the Offworlders. They are clever.”

“Clever wouldn’t stop an axe from splitting her head.”

“No,” Yukannak said, allowing himself a slight smile. “It wouldn’t. But I wish to question her, so do her no harm. If she does work for the Offworlders, she can tell us much.”

This time Waornaak did growl. “I won’t kill her. I can’t guarantee she won’t be a little…used.”

“No harm! I am the voice of the satrap when he is not present, and you will not hurt her in any way. Are my words understood?”

“She might—”

Raising his voice had drawn the attention of a woman walking through the alley carrying a bundle of reeds over one shoulder.

“Are my words understood?” Yukannak asked again in a harsh whisper.

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“One more thing. Speak nothing of this to Subitorni.”

Waornaak squinted again, this time in obvious suspicion. “Why not?”

“You can never be certain where true loyalties lie.”

“Oh…” Waornaak said. He scratched his chin, thinking. “No offense meant, Silci, but he lives here, and you don’t. Also, Subitorni is not the forgiving sort. What’s in it for me to keep quiet about this archive thing? If anybody knows about it, it’s Subitorni.”

“I have my reasons.” Yukannak’s smile grew wider, and he clapped a hand on Waornaak’s hardened shoulder. “And, because you are my friend, I’m looking out for you. What if you have not heard of this archive because to hear of it means death?”

“What do you—? Oh, I see what you mean.”

“It must be secret for a reason. And who would the F’ahdn rely on to execute anyone who learned of its existence?”

“Subitorni!”

“Yes, my friend. The satrap protects his friends and punishes his enemies, and so I am helping you. Are you bonded to a female?”

“I’m hetman of my village; of course I am bonded.”

“And does