Eventually the farmer retreated indoors and Syman came back and helped her dismount. “We are going for a little walk my dear,” he grinned. Leading their horses eastward pass the farmhouse, Syman whistled an old sailor tune and walked with a swagger. Lyra’s curiosity boiled within her as she walked alongside the whistling cadet, but again she held her loving facade. Syman led them along a narrow path that ran between two fields and eventually they halted at another gate. Syman opened the gate and kept on going until they had entered the forest beyond.
“Okay,” Lyra huffed, “what exactly is going on?”
“Sorry, Lyra,” smiled Syman. “I am not sure what is the matter, but Antello signaled not to enter the city. He was concerned about the Imperial Guards, but for the life of me, I cannot understand why.”
“How do you know all this?” questioned Lyra. “And what was all that with the old farmer?”
“Antello and I have a system of signals,” explained Syman. “We developed them to avoid getting caught at the Academy. It is nothing fancy, but he signaled that we need to circle around the city and, as Gatong is a seaport, the only way we can do that is to the east. The little speech I gave at the gate was to make a story up which the guards would believe. I think they would be interested in people who turned around after seeing their uniforms guarding the gate. I chose the farm that was best tended to inquire of work, knowing we would be turned down.”
“Okay,” conceded Lyra with a warm appraisal of Syman’s cleverness. “So you asked for work at the least likely place to want workers, but what did you discuss with the farmer for so long?”