Later that day, Thomas, Drenn and the soldiers were taken to a building near the centre of the city and shown to a connected series of rooms on the second floor, from where they had a good view out over the city. The mayor came with them as far as the entrance, where they were met by a welcoming delegation of two young men and two young women, all in their early twenties by the look of them. All tall and athletic looking. Fit and healthy.
The mayor gave another short speech and shook their hands, a disturbingly false smile on his face below eyes that watched them carefully, endlessly measuring and calculating. Then he left, leaving them in the hands of the four manservants, or whatever they were. They led them inside and showed them to their rooms, where they found clean clothes and bowls of hot, soapy water waiting for them. Their hosts then bowed and left them to get cleaned up and presentable.
"Well, this is more like it," said Jop Sonno as he stripped off his filthy clothes, flinging them to the ground with a grimace of disgust. He tested the warmth of the water with the tips of his fingers, then began scrubbing.
"Don't get used to it," said Matthew, though. "You can bet our welcome'll dry up fast when they discover we're no threat to them."
"So we won't let them find out," said the cavalryman. "We've just got to be careful what we say."
"A man who lives his life on lies is walking a perilous path," warned Drenn as he also stripped off and washed himself down. "I am not at all happy with our situation here."
"None of us are," agreed Thomas, "but what else are we to do? You saw how those soldiers treated us when they thought we were just outlaws. We've got just two choices. We can either be outlaws and fugitives, forever running from the law, or ambassadors of a powerful neighbouring country. If there's another option I've missed, please enlighten me."
The priest could only glare at him, though, and said nothing.
The clothes were a pile of jackets, trousers and shoes in all styles and sizes among which they sorted for items that fitted and which suited their tastes. They were just dressing themselves when there came a knock on the door. Matthew hastily buttoned his jacket over his glass ceramic armour, not wanting to give away that they possessed such powerful protection, then called for their visitor to come in.
It was one of the young women who'd led them into the building, and she explained to them, by carefully pronounced words and hand gestures, that there was a meal waiting for them downstairs. The Tharians, all ravenously hungry after two days of living on nuts, berries and whatever small animals they could catch, followed eagerly.
It was a feast fit for a king. The mayor was evidently pushing the boat out for them, wanting to give the Beltharan ambassadors a good impression to take home with them. The four servants waited on them and stared in confusion as Drenn said a brief prayer of gratitude to the Gods of Tharia, following it up with a few words of thankfulness to whatever Gods ruled this world, in case They were upset at being ignored. The Gods of Tharia were quite happy for Their followers to give lip service to other Gods, so long as they didn't forget who it was who granted them their powers, and Thomas, watching the priest pray, hoped that the Gods of this world shared this enlightened attitude. It occurred to him, though, that, so far, they'd seen no sign that these people worshipped anyone at all.
After the meal they retired to another room, followed by their hosts, and collapsed into large, plump chairs while other servants cleared the table behind them. Their hosts then engaged them in conversation, beginning with pointing at and naming objects, the first step in learning each others' languages. The soldiers had little skill or enthusiasm for this, although they co-operated to the best of their abilities, but Drenn and Thomas, both highly intelligent and with excellent memories, made good progress, and by the end of the day they'd mastered over a hundred words of the city's language. Enough for the very most basic of conversations.
The name of the planet, they learned, was Fechlon, and the city was called Shonnla. Their female hosts were called Ion and Cresselda, and the men were called Brega and Darell. The Mayor was named Hilth Drono, and he was the ruler of the city, answerable only to the King, Turber the Third, who ruled a nation spread over ten thousand square miles.
The Shonnlans wanted to know about Belthar as well, and the Tharians answered as fully as their limited grasp of the language allowed, but when Thomas described the size of Belthar, though, their hosts looked openly sceptical, clearly believing that their guests were exaggerating, probably to scare them and improve their bargaining position. The Tharians couldn't stop Drenn from telling them about Samnos and the benefits that came from worshipping Him, but Thomas made no mention of magic or wizardry, and he made sure that the soldiers made no reference to it either. Thomas's magic was their ace in the hole. Their secret weapon that they would use only to escape if things turned nasty.
By the time night fell, they were all exhausted by their efforts to communicate and decided to retire early. Thomas knew that this was only the beginning, though. There would be weeks of hard work ahead before their command of the Fechlon language allowed them to communicate with their hosts as easily as they did with each other, and only then would they be ready to leave the city of Shonnla and begin their search for Saturn in earnest.
As soon as their grasp of the language was good enough, they asked their hosts whether they'd heard any news of other 'shipwreck survivors', emphasising that they might be trying to pass themselves off as natives to avoid trouble. They were unsure of the wisdom of this, since the Mayor might well send messengers to nearby townships to make enquiries and, in so doing, learn of the skirmish between an army patrol and a gang of outlaws with terrifying magical powers. The coincidence of five strangers arriving in town so soon after five other strangers had routed a much larger force of highly trained soldiers not too many miles away might get the Mayor thinking.
Now that they'd settled for the shipwreck cover story, though, which in retrospect might not have been the smartest idea they'd ever had, it would have been suspicious if they hadn't asked about other survivors, and even if they hadn't, the Mayor might have gone looking for them anyway. Besides, if there was even the slightest chance that Saturn was in the neighbourhood, perhaps injured or a prisoner...
They asked, therefore, and their hosts promised to listen out for whatever news came their way, but no word came and the Tharians were forced to assume that, if Saturn and his group were still alive, they were not within the Kingdom of Turber the Third; the Kingdom of Malgania. It had been the very height of optimism to hope that they might be, of course, but the disappointment was still bitter and as day after day passed with still no news, the sense of loneliness and homesickness grew steadily worse.
On the evening of the fourth day after their arrival, the Tharians told their hosts that it was a holy day in their calendar and that they each had to pray and meditate in isolation. Their hosts looked puzzled but granted their wish, and the Tharians were left alone in their quarters. They each went to a separate part of the apartment, sat down and waited. Somewhere out in space the portal would be opening again, and they wanted to be ready in case any Farspoken messages came through.
The clock in his head, normally so accurate, let Thomas down a little, though, because it was nearly two hours later than he expected before Lirenna’s voice sounded in his head, to his tearful relief. “Don’t teleport up to the ship!” she warned. “I’m fine, we’re all fine. We’ve come back through the portal, but we can’t stay long in case we’re attacked again so we’re going back through before it closes. There’s no sign of the Bescot near the portal, so we’re assuming you’re either in the ring or on the planet. If that’s the case, Karog says it’ll take several minutes for this message to reach you, and that if you try to teleport here it’ll take you the same length of time to cross the distance. We probably won’t be here, and you’ll materialize in empty space. You won’t be able to reply to this message for the same reason.
"I know you’re okay, I know it in my heart. I know you’re okay and that you’ll find a way to come back to me. We can’t rescue you, not so long as there’s something in the ring that keeps attacking us. Maybe they’ll be able to persuade the felisians to send another of their silver ships, but don’t count on that. You’ll have to find a way to come to us. It may take you a while, but I know you’ll make it back. I love you. I love you with all my heart. Take care, my beloved. And come back to me.”
Thomas laughed with joy and spun around to tell the others, but they were all concentrating on Farspoken messages of their own and it was a few moments before he was able to share the good news with them.
“I knew she’d be fine!” said Matthew, grinning helplessly at his friend’s relief and delight. “You’ll be back with her in no time.”
“If we can get off this planet,” said Thomas, his good mood wilting a little as he remembered the position they were in. “We can’t teleport home, our Ship of Space was destroyed…” He paused as a thought came to him. “There is one thing we might try, if we can find the felisians. Teleport back up to the ring, to that module containing those three silver ships. They said they were in good condition, that they could almost have flown them out of there just as they were. Maybe we can go home that way.”
“Maybe,” agreed Matthew. “In which case our objective is still the same. Find the others. And we still haven’t heard from Saturn. I think he must be dead. If we were still alive, he’d have sent word by now.”
“I wish I’d learned the Farspeaking spell!” said Thomas with feeling. “There was never a need for it, but I swear it’ll be the very next spell I learn. The very next!”
Matthew gave him a comforting hand on the shoulder, and then they returned to the others to share with each other the messages they’d had from home.