by Monica Hahn
Mikel nodded, and drank some more. “What were you thinking of doing if not pillaging and plundering?” he asked, changing the subject.
“How would you like to go into an honest trade together?” Tarik asked. “We could become merchant seamen.”
“I’ll think about it,” Mikel said, although they both knew that he would follow Tarik through the gates of hell and back out again. It was true that running a merchant shipping service wouldn’t be quite as exciting, but it also wouldn’t completely lack danger and adventure. After all, merchant ships were what they attacked as pirates, and they weren’t the only ones looting on the high seas. And they had both discussed before how different the outcome might be if the merchant ships they attacked knew how to defend themselves properly.
“We could guarantee that our ship would make it from port to port,” Tarik said. With an average rate of a third of vessels and their cargo lost at sea, this would be a big advantage to them if it was realistic, and Mikel didn’t see why it wouldn’t be. They had yet to lose a fight.
He clasped Tarik’s hand. “What the hell! Let’s join the ranks of the honest men,” he said.
Tarik revealed his plan to the rest of his men when they were within eyesight of the nearest port. A few declined the offer of honest wages, preferring to take their chances with the high risk, high reward lifestyle that piracy offered, but most considered themselves Tarik’s men for life. It surprised Mikel when Johan and Seb were among those that opted to leave, since they had been with Tarik the longest. Tarik was disappointed, but he understood when they insisted that it was too tame a life for them.
As Seb said, “We’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of us, Captain, but becoming respectable is too much, even for you!”
So, Tarik and Mikel recruited a different sort of seaman to fill out their crew, preferring ex-navy for the most part. They spent an extra month in port, outfitting the ship to look more suitable and to conceal the guns. They even rechristened her as the Quest. And they received their first commission of luxury items to take and trade. Mikel was surprised to see Tarik purchasing even more of the same, for less money, from a different supplier in the city.
“We know that these will sell,” Tarik explained. “They wouldn’t send them if there wasn’t a market. Which means we can sell ours, as well, and make a profit on them as well as the shipping fees.”
It turned out to be a solid business plan, and over the next year the two became wealthy. There were a few close calls with marauding ships, but they hadn’t lost their fighting instincts, and they never lost their cargo. Their crew was happy and well paid, and the Quest was becoming known as a sure bet. They made most of their profit off of the supplementary product that they took along and quietly sold for less.
At the kingdom of Lotan they had just picked up a load of fine clothing, luxury wines, and exotic fruits, along with a merchant and several of his assistants. Tarik hadn’t been keen on the idea of extra personnel at all, but Mr. Freyer had tripled the usual fee and vowed that he and his men wouldn’t interfere with anything on the ship. Mikel didn’t see the harm in having passengers, and convinced Tarik to take the deal. They wouldn’t have to endure the extra company for long, as it should take them less than a month to make the delivery to Rouland. Chances were, it would be an uneventful trip.
They were just two days out of Loton when the familiar cry rose. “Pirates, Captain!”
Tarik grinned at this, as he always did. He enjoyed the chance to test his mettle against that of his former competitors, and he knew that they thought the merchant vessels easy prey. There were times he had even allowed the Quest to be boarded, just to spare her any cannon fire, and then the boarders were always surprised to find themselves facing, not a bunch of cowering sailors, but true fighting seamen, led by Tarik the Terror.
There was no reason to expect anything life-changing from this particular encounter, so Tarik gave the order for his men to ready themselves for a fight.
Chapter Six
On October 26th, Arati woke up with a heavy heart. She missed Mikel every single day, but his birthdays were the hardest, and the pain was increasing with each year as she thought of all she’d missed. He would be nineteen. She said a special prayer for Mikel, asking that the gods be kind to her boy, protect him, and bring him back to her. It wasn’t just for herself; Tibercon needed him. King Saras had suffered a stroke about a year ago, and his impaired mental and physical faculties were beginning to take their toll. The kingdom that he had always ruled with an iron fist was showing signs of weakness. There were plenty of enemies that had long envied Tibercon’s prosperity, many of them masquerading as allies. With most of the treaties that protected Tibercon expiring soon, it was a bad time to be exhibiting any instability. Arati feared for her kingdom’s future.
Fiern brought in breakfast, and with it, a tall handmade pillar candle. After eating, Arati went to the candle that was burning by her window, and lit the new candle off the old, blowing out the almost exhausted one with a sigh. She sank down onto the cushioned window seat.
“It’s been so long,” she said, staring at the flickering flame.
“I know,” Fiern said. “But, he’ll come back, my lady.”
Arati reached out a hand and Fiern clasped it comfortingly. “Do you really believe that?” the princess asked, sounding hopeless.
“I certainly do,” Fiern said, positively. “Our Mikel will be back.”
“Before it’s too late?”
“As to that,” Fiern said, boosting Arati up to her feet, “I believe it’s up to you.”
Arati blinked and lost her forlorn look, her eyes sharpening. “What have you heard?” she asked, briskly, scanning Fiern’s face for clues.
“Minister Zanth is suggesting that your father is no longer fit to rule, and the guards are listening. I fear a coup may be in the beginning stages.”
Arati was surprised. Zanth had always seemed extremely loyal to her father, never more so than when he had accepted the position of Minister of Defense. He was also intelligent, so advertising a coup seemed even more out of character for him. “That’s strange,” she said. “But my father would never believe anything bad of Zanth, and he could be correct about my father not being fit to rule in his present state. Although I’m not entirely convinced that his condition is as serious as it once was.”
“Are you certain that your father won’t consider making you queen in his stead?”
Arati shook her head. “He still considers me an uninformed child, and a female. Which I am—female, that is. I should just get married, since I’m sure he would consider it then.”
Fiern clicked her tongue. “It doesn’t seem right that after all of the effort you’ve put into becoming so knowledgeable about Tibercon, that you can’t rule by yourself just because you’re a female!”
“Well, that’s because it isn’t right!” Arati said, with asperity. “But, it’s still a fact, if an inconvenient one. I need a husband. In the meantime, will you please go through the proper channels to get me a meeting with the Minister of Defense?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
*****
Arati chose to have her meeting with Minister Zanth in the throne room, and scheduled it during her father’s usual resting hour. Although the king insisted he no longer needed special care, the doctors were adamant, and so he obediently spent the hour in his bedchamber, since he would be mercilessly fussed over otherwise. Nobody believed he actually slept for this hour, but it did ensure that he would be otherwise occupied.
For her meeting, Arati chose to wear a dress with a train, and a small tiara, just to remind the minister of who she was. Minister Zanth arrived exactly on time, and in full uniform, which Arati chose to interpret as respect.
He strode up to her with the same confident stride that he’d had since youth, and made an elegant bow. She nodded, with a welcoming smile.
“Minister Zanth.”
“Your Highness. To what do I owe
the honor?”
“I would like your advice,” she said. Zanth displayed a flicker of interest at this. Arati considered that a good sign and continued. “The king hasn’t recovered as fully from his illness as we had thought that he would. And I worry that with him being a bit impaired at the moment, Tibercon is becoming increasingly vulnerable to threats. Our twenty-year treaties are going to expire soon and need renewing. We can’t ask for favorable terms if our kingdom doesn’t appear more stable.” She paused here and opened her eyes wide. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s a perceptive observation,” he said. “Are you asking if the military is capable of repelling invaders?”
“I’m more worried about civil unrest within our borders,” she said, bluntly. “I sense there is blood in the water and that sharks are circling. I need to know exactly whom I can trust.”
“I think there would be less unrest, Your Highness, if there was a succession plan in place.”
“The king believes that Prince Horatio may still return,” Arati said.
“And we would all rejoice if that happy event were to occur,” Zanth said, smoothly. “But, if it does not happen within the next year, a formal plan in place would certainly alleviate some understandable concerns.”
“Absolutely,” Arati said. “Which is why I plan to be betrothed soon and married by next year’s end.”
“And do you have a specific fortunate man decided upon?”
“Not yet,” Arati said. “But, I believe it’s well within the realm of possibility that one can be found within the time frame. Unless you doubt that I’m eligible enough to attract suitors?”
Zanth laughed, which she hadn’t expected. “It never crossed my mind,” he said. “I was only being bold enough to inquire because if you didn’t have your heart set on anyone in particular, I would like to be considered a candidate.”
“Oh!” Arati said, then laughed a little at her own gauche response. “That is flattering, indeed. I believe my father would be pleased to consider his most trusted minister as a potential son-in-law.”
Zanth bowed. “And the potential wife, would she be pleased?”
“I can’t imagine she would be female if she wasn’t,” Arati said, as Zanth presented as quite the catch. “Would you do something for me?” she asked.
“Anything.”
“Please don’t mention any of this to the king yet. He’s been a bit difficult lately, and I would like to approach it my own way.”
“Naturally,” Zanth said. “Will that be all?”
“Yes,” Arati said. “And, of course, feel free to reassure anyone who might be having doubts about Tibercon’s future that all is well.”
He nodded, and she stood up, descending from the dais with her usual grace. She extended a hand to him, prettily. “I feel quite relieved after talking to you,” she said, with a winning smile.
Zanth took her hand and pressed a fervent kiss upon its back. “As do I,” he said, then backed out of the room.
*****
Arati did speak to her father later, but she didn’t mention anything about her conversation with Zanth. Instead she walked into the cabinet room and, after an appropriate but chilly greeting, set down the documents she had been holding onto his desk, with disdain.
“The royal adviser said these have all been prepared and are now awaiting your signature,” she said. She held her breath as the king glanced over the letters that she herself had carefully written, that all suggested subtly that the princess was anxious to be wed and offered some inducements for anyone willing to become the groom. She hoped that her father wouldn’t question why she was delivering documents instead of a page boy. Some days her father seemed mentally sharper than others, and she never knew which those days were going to be. So, she took the offensive to distract him.
“Is this why you’ve been communicating with all the surrounding royal families?” she asked, crossly. “Still trying to marry me off?”
“It’s about time you were, if you’re going to take that tone with me,” her father said, in as much of a roar as he could muster these days. “I hope one of them will be willing to consider someone who shows her father no respect!”
“I’ve given you nothing but respect,” Arati said, in a very disrespectful tone. She didn’t enjoy conflict, but her father did, and always seemed to perk up a bit after an argument. She was willing to oblige him.
He scoffed. “If only that were true! If you had respected me, you would have married to please me years ago.”
“You needed me to raise Horatio back then.”
“You had a need to raise Horatio. Don’t think I didn’t know why every suitor ran screaming from you and this castle. All the schemes and mischief you and that devil nurse came up with! The royals from Pitger still would rather sell at Tingard than here because of their prince waking up with blue hair.”
“And yet they just kept coming,” Arati said, reminiscing. “Year after year.”
“It wasn’t easy to ensure that,” her father said, severely. “I thought you’d resign yourself eventually.”
“Not while I’m as stubborn as you are,” she said. “I thought you’d be even more insistent after Horatio disappeared, but you didn’t seem to care much anymore.”
“It was hard to care much after that,” Saras said. “Even though I knew we still needed an heir.”
“I don’t know why you just didn’t marry again,” Arati said, taking advantage of her father’s softened mood to ask something she’d wondered about for years. “Surely you thought about it.”
“I did,” he said. “But there was no interest.”
“You weren’t interested? But what about protecting Tibercon?”
“They weren’t interested.” Saras sounded offended. “It would have been a grand match, but apparently fathers have grown accustomed to considering their daughter’s feelings instead of important factors, and I had the reputation of being difficult.”
Arati was fighting back an inappropriate urge to giggle. She would never have imagined that was the reason. She took a deep breath so that she could speak steadily. “You? Difficult?”
Her father glared at her. “Apparently, I had offended some parties when negotiating treaties in the past,” he said, stiffly.
“Between me and you, I’m surprised anyone is still dealing with us.”
“We’ll see if they are,” Saras said, gesturing at the documents she had given him. He picked up his pen with one hand and shooed her out with the other.
Chapter Seven
As Arati exited the cabinet room, she registered a sound she had never heard before. One of the pair of guardians standing watch outside of her father’s door was laughing. Arati, if she had ever bothered thinking about it, would have supposed that guardians laughed occasionally when they were off duty, but she had never in her whole life heard one laugh while he was tasked with the responsibility of looking imposing. She looked at the guardian, who immediately stopped laughing and resumed an appropriately solemn expression, but even had she wanted to scold him, she was too distracted to do so when she glanced around to see what had occasioned his mirth. He had crossed his arms again, but in doing so had taken his hand from the grip of a girl who was standing there. The girl looked at Arati with mischief in her unusual blue eyes, and Arati couldn’t help from staring at her. She was older than Arati had first thought, probably in her late teens, and was absolutely beautiful.
Behind the girl stood a man in a different uniform than that of the regular Guard member (blue with white markings), or that of the guardians’ (blue with gold). His uniform was cream and gold, and he did not look amused at all. Arati looked at him curiously and then looked back at the guardian who had laughed.
“I apologize, Your Majesty,” the guardian said, looking straight ahead. “I didn’t mean to neglect my post.”
“No harm done,” Arati said. “Although I can’t condone you flirting while on guard duty.”
“He wasn’
t flirting with me,” the girl said, quickly, curtsying with not only grace but style. “I was reading his palm, Your Majesty.”
“Reading his palm?” Arati asked, not familiar with the practice.
“She was telling his fortune,” said the guardian on the other side of the doorway. “Which everyone knows involves evil magic.”
The non-Tibercon guard behind the girl, who so far had remained still, stiffened at this. “There isn’t an evil bone anywhere in Miss Catarina’s body,” he said, in Panskorin that was highly accented but understandable. “And you won’t be saying otherwise!” He took a couple of threatening steps forward.
Catarina winked at Arati and whirled around to place a hand on the man’s chest to halt his progress. “Stop, Duncan,” she said, her Panskorin barely accented. “I’m certain he didn’t intend to insult me.” She turned back to Arati. “It was only for a bit of amusement,” she said. “In Penxe, there are special old women that tell fortunes in the marketplace, and they taught me the rudiments.”
“Are you from Penxe?” Arati asked.
“Oh, no. I’m from Gilden. My father is the ambassador from there. Which is why we were in Penxe last year. I’ve been traveling with him since I was five years old, so I’ve been quite a few places.”
“I see. And are you accompanying your father now?”
“Yes, he’s waiting to be introduced to the king. I was with him, but waiting is so dreadfully boring, don’t you think?” she asked.
Arati laughed. “Indeed, I do,” she said. “I find it makes one hungry. I was about to have some tea with cookies, if you’d care to join me?”
Catarina shot a triumphant look at Duncan before nodding enthusiastically. “I’d enjoy that,” she said.
Arati was entertained by Catarina’s chatter as she led the way to her chambers. Duncan had followed them, and now he set up a watchful post right outside. Arati ordered an extra large repast for Catarina to share with her, and encouraged Catarina to tell her more about her travels, which Catarina was happy to do.
