by Monica Hahn
Tibercon had always taxed the marketplace wares from other countries, both as exports and imports, as they came and went. Gilden was negotiating for half the usual tax on their xanuite crystal commodity. Obviously, this would severely reduce the profit Tibercon would make out of offering a safe exchange location. Then again, as Tuder was quick to point out, Port Sinbad was no longer the safe place it used to be, and it was true that the increased profit to Gilden might be used for the extra protection that would be necessary due to this unfortunate reality. Port Sinbad was not the only general marketplace in this group of island kingdoms, of course, but due to Tibercon’s superior location in the center, with a larger land mass than any other island in the chain, and a very favorable coastline with the ability to dock a multitude of large ships at once, it was the preferred location for trading wares. It brought in traffic from both of the large continents on either side of the islands, since it was easier to make the trip halfway and sell to the Port Sinbad marketplace, and then buy wares from the other continent there, than it was to go the full route. Not quite as much profit, but the risk was cut in half, and the time needed was considerably shorter. It was the ideal location at which to put something like xanuite up for sale, as it would then have worldwide buyers competing and could demand the greatest price possible. On the other hand, it was advantageous for Tibercon to be offering something so sought after and exclusive, which would attract plenty of prospective customers. As the xanuite would then make up a small part of the cargo, and a full ship is a profitable one, the buyers would most likely fill up the rest of their holds with other items bought in Tibercon markets, increasing the tax revenue.
King Saras negotiated a bit on the percentage and talked Tuder down a small amount from his initial point of half, but they agreed on less than the usual taxes, contingent on the safe arrival of “Horatio.” It was not in any way contingent on the young man being who he was claiming to be, as they both agreed that was something Gilden should not be responsible for. And the deal was struck.
The Gilden ship left again, this time accompanied by two Tibercon Defensive Guard fully outfitted combat vessels, which were to escort the possible prince home. Zanth assured Saras that the men on board were some of his finest guards.
“Does your Royal Majesty then believe that the young man is, in fact, Prince Horatio?” Zanth asked.
“I would prefer that no harm comes to him before that can be determined,” the king answered. “While it would be very satisfying to see my grandson take the throne as the rightful heir, I would consider it a grave injustice to his memory were I to allow an impostor in his stead.”
“Would Prince Horatio consider it as grave an injustice as you, if it were a way for his kingdom to be saved?” Zanth asked.
“This isn’t the first time that you’ve hinted about allowing this man to take the throne whether or not he is truly the crown prince,” Saras said. “What are your reasons for believing that is a good course of action?”
Zanth shrugged. “Merely that Tibercon is no longer the safe port that it once was. Our economy is suffering because of the decrease in marketplace wares. The safety of your subjects is constantly threatened. It is becoming a hostile place to live and work, and I’m afraid that it will continue to be until a sense of order is established, and with no heir evident, that is in short supply.”
“Is everyone so convinced of my imminent demise, then?” the king asked.
“Not imminent, your Royal Majesty, just inevitable,” Zanth said. “In which case the throne is without a clear line of succession, and kingdoms historically fare badly in such cases. Having a crown prince would alleviate that understandable fear and allow Tibercon to regain a sense of order which it needs. Which is just presented as my humble opinion as your Minister of Defense.”
“It is something to consider,” Saras said, before dismissing Zanth.
And it was. Saras had been thinking, and as much as he truly despised the idea of letting an impostor follow him as the ruler, he abhorred the current condition of his kingdom, and worried for the safety of his people. With a kingdom such as this, constant vigilance was required, and his stroke had distracted him for long enough to allow some rot to set in. He was certain now that he would never recover fully, as he had initially hoped would be the case. At this point, he was willing to meet this young man. If he truly was his grandson, then all was as it should be. If not, then there was a decision to be made that wasn’t going to be as easy as one would readily suppose.
There was another option, which was that of his daughter finally getting married and the son-in-law from that union being declared the next king. Saras didn’t like this option for several reasons. Chief among those was that it was a dangerous precedent to set. The son-in-law would come from somewhere else, and would have ties of loyalty to that place instead of Tibercon. Whether or not Tibercon was his first priority would always be in question. Or, Arati could be declared queen in her own right. There was the question of her loyalty, since Saras had always thought that if he had not stopped her moment of youthful folly, and prevented her from ruining her life, that she would have sailed away never to return. But, strictly speaking, Horatio had done that, and he was still willing to bequeath the kingship to his grandson, so why not Arati? She was much more capable than he had originally judged her to be. However, ruling was difficult and he feared the toll it would take on her spirit. And, even if she were to be married today, her age made it possible that there would be no other children, and that produced the same predicament, since it wouldn’t resolve the issue.
Saras allowed himself a moment of pity for his short-lived wife and marriage. If she hadn’t died so young, then he would have a plethora of children to choose from, and this would all be a moot point. If only that damnable fire had never taken his son’s life… or that of his other grandson. But, the desire to change the past was never successful at actually doing so. He needed to deal with the current circumstances as they were.
Chapter Nine
“That looks pretty,” Arati said, gesturing to the rolled missive tied with a ribbon and flowers that Catarina was holding.
Catarina, who had become a favorite of Arati’s in the three months since they had met, giggled. “A poem,” she said. “From the Duke of Argon.”
Arati was suitably impressed. “Really? Vernon wrote you a poem?” She hadn’t thought the pompous fellow had it in him, although if anyone could bring out the poet, Catarina was certainly capable.
“Yes, he did,” Catarina said. “And Fiern didn’t think that I could get him to do it, either.”
“You might be enjoying yourself a bit too much,” Arati mused, watching Catarina carefully untie the ribbon and lay the flowers aside to unroll her poem.
Catarina dissolved into laughter as she read, and she passed it over to Arati. Arati could have done the responsible thing, refused to read a private missive and admonished Catarina for her lack of respect towards her elders, but she was curious, and was also getting tired of doing the responsible thing all of the time. So she took and read it, in stunned disbelief, and then laughed until she cried, something she hadn’t done in years.
“It’s so…” Catarina couldn’t even find a descriptive word.
“Horrible,” Arati said, gasping for breath. “Painfully horrible. And yet, the penmanship is commendable.”
Catarina nodded. “It’s very legible,” she said. “Unfortunately.”
They looked at each other and burst into laughter again.
After gaining control of herself again, Catarina flung herself on the divan and started plucking petals from one of the hapless daisies that had accompanied the heroic attempt. “He loves me, he loves me not…”
“Oh, I think he loves you,” Arati said. “This proves it, and you, you ungrateful child, don’t care at all, so why torture the man?”
Catarina rubbed a petal between her fingers. “Because I can,” she said. “And soon I won’t be able to, so I’d like to, as you
say, enjoy myself a bit too much while I can.”
Arati looked at her, and realized that Catarina was being serious. She was almost solemn, and this was unprecedented in their entire acquaintance, except for maybe the one time Catarina had read her palm when they first met. “What are you talking about?” Arati asked, squeezing in beside Catarina on the small sofa. “Is this about your fiancé?”
Catarina, instead of moving over to give her more room, nestled closer and put her head on Arati’s shoulder. “Yes,” she said. “I made a deal with my parents.”
“What deal?”
“As a young child, I was promised to my parent’s friends, people who had influence with the court and could acquire my father the position that he wanted. On my eighteenth birthday I am to be wed to their eldest son.”
Arati stroked Catarina’s hair.
Catarina sighed. “He’s not terrible,” she said. “Just a couple years older than me, and I have known him all my life. Stefan is dull and practical and cares for nothing but politics. But, he won’t beat me, or have affairs, or probably bother me much at all once I’ve produced a couple heirs. It’s not the worst fate.”
She didn’t sound convinced of this, and Arati laid a sympathetic hand over the young fingers that were crushing the innocent flower. Catarina grasped her hand and squeezed it.
“You made a deal?” Arati asked, after Catarina was silent for another minute, another thing that Catarina never was.
Catarina took a deep breath. “I traded a year of freedom for my oath,” she said. “I told my parents that I would marry Stefan without a fuss and be a loyal, discreet wife if I got the whole year before my wedding to be myself and enjoy life. And I have enjoyed it, but now it’s almost over, and I’m going to have to give it all up and be a staid politician’s wife for the rest of my life and behave myself.”
“I’m sorry,” Arati said, and she was. While she might not always approve of Catarina’s antics, they amused her, and she worried about how the fate Catarina had in store for her might crush her soul. She knew that pain all too well.
“That’s why I told you,” Catarina said. She smiled up at Arati. “I knew you’d understand.”
Arati automatically fingered the knot of fraying rope that she kept on a chain around her neck. A true love’s knot, that she had gotten long ago, when she had been young and full of life and hope and love. At least she had that memory. “I do,” she said.
“My mother wouldn’t,” Catarina said. “She thinks that I’ll be content enough once I settle down and have babies to care for. And I do love babies, but I also want some adventure and romance in my life. I’d prefer to not be treated like a pawn in a chess match.”
Arati smiled involuntarily, knowing exactly how that felt.
“I wish I could stay unmarried, like you,” Catarina said. “I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long. Surely your father must have pressured you?”
“He did,” Arati said. “And still does. But after my brother died he needed me to care for my nephew, and after Horatio disappeared …” She trailed off, not wanting to relive the misery of that time period, worrying about her son, which she still did.
“I’ve heard you were like a mother to him,” Catarina said, gently.
“I love him very much,” Arati said.
“What do you think happened to him?” Catarina asked. “Do you think it’s true that he’s currently at Gilden and planning on coming here and claiming the throne?”
“I would like to think that’s true,” she said, smiling. “It would be wonderful to see him again.”
Catarina smiled, too. “So, you’re not sure that it’s the real Prince Horatio?” she asked, curious about the rumors she’d heard.
Arati shrugged. “Perhaps,” she said. “But Port Sinbad was much safer then compared to now. Even the pirates were comparatively well-behaved. It’s hard to imagine anyone abducting the heir to the throne. Not to mention the rest of that impossible tale.”
“It is impossible,” Catarina agreed. “I do wish Port Sinbad was safe again.” She shuddered. “I was in the market the other day and it was full of disreputable characters.”
“I know,” Arati said. “That’s why we need a stabilizing force so that Tibercon can regain control of the shore. In the meantime, you must not go anywhere without Duncan, and that includes the market.”
Catarina gave an exaggerated sigh. “That’s what everyone tells me,” she said. “Stefan, my parents, Duncan himself, and now you.”
“You’re a fortunate young lady to have so many people that care about your safety,” Arati said, making Catarina smile.
There was a discreet knock on the door, and it opened to reveal Duncan. “Speak of the devil,” Catarina said in a soft undertone, and Arati laughed.
“You said you’d be leaving for dinner,” Duncan said, with the deference that he usually showed Catarina in public.
Catarina nodded and embraced Arati. “Thank you for having me,” she said.
“I always enjoy your visits, my dear,” Arati said. She handed Catarina the poem and they shared another smile before Catarina left.
Arati stroked her fraying rope charm again, as had become her habit when she was worried. Minister Zanth was becoming more insistent, although still only in private. He had been finding every opportunity to accost her as she went about her regular routine, enough that she had gradually ceased most of her usual activities and was beginning to feel like a prisoner in her own home.
Arati hadn’t received any replies from the delicately phrased letters that she had prepared earlier, and enough time had passed that she didn’t think she was going to. She wondered if Zanth was the reason for the lack of replies.
At this point, it seemed her only option besides marrying Zanth, which was something she was increasingly loath to do, was that the young man in Gilden would turn out to be her missing son. If that were true she would be both overjoyed and relieved.
*****
Catarina wanted to stop by the market on the way home from her visit with Arati, and Duncan agreed. She had just started bartering over some ribbons when a fight broke out in the next stall. It seemed a thief had been caught. Duncan went over to see what was going on, and that was when Catarina was snatched from behind. She tried to scream, but a dirty hand was held tightly over her mouth and she was dragged quickly to a wagon. A filthy rag replaced the hand over her mouth and she was efficiently trussed up, then tossed into the back of the wagon, where she was covered with a tarp. Her entire abduction took only a minute or two. In the distance, she could hear Duncan calling her name.
She was terrified and angry. When Stefan had hired Duncan to protect her, she had suspected that Stefan wanted to keep her under surveillance as much as keep her safe, and was just insisting that Tibercon was dangerous as an excuse. She had laughed at her father’s insistence that she be accompanied by Duncan every time she left their house, feeling that it was unnecessary. Not that she minded having Duncan along on her adventures, since he had proven to be a useful accomplice. Now she had proof that she should have paid more attention to everyone’s concern. She was sorry that her parents were never going to know what had happened to her, even though they had tried to keep her safe. This thought soon had tears running down her face, until she told herself to focus on the present. She wasn’t dead yet, after all! And there was no reason that she couldn’t see her parents again, if she just kept her wits about her and survived.
She ran through her options. She couldn’t get free from her present situation. They were going to take her somewhere—possibly to a ship? If that happened she was definitely in trouble. The sex slave trade was becoming a bigger problem all the time. There was even one port city that was famous for it, Laorgy. If that was the case she would kill herself at the earliest opportunity. Or it was possible that they were looking to make some quick money here off of her family. She did look wealthy, and she was a frequent visitor to the castle. But, her parents used all their money to
invest in her oldest brother’s great ideas, which so far had done nothing but lose money, so they didn’t have any. And she didn’t want them to have to worry about her, with a ransom demand that they couldn’t meet.
The wagon stopped and Catarina blinked as the tarp was tossed aside. One of the men snatched her up and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her into the house so fast that she barely had a chance to get her bearings. They were in a part of the city she didn’t recognize. It was dirty and smelled of the sea, so she assumed it was one of the hovels lining the street behind the taverns. She was thrown onto a straw tick mattress that was in the corner of the small room on the floor. It billowed up a cloud of dust and straw. She sneezed and her eyes started to water.
“Take off the gag,” one of the men said. “Not likely anyone will come if she screams here.”
They all laughed, and the gag was removed, none too gently. The man who took it off then put a hand under her chin and studied her face in the last ray of light coming through the ratty curtains over the one window. “She is a pretty one,” he said.
Catarina stared at him defiantly. She didn’t bother screaming or talking. She knew they were right that nobody would care about her screams, and it wasn’t as if reasoning would work on these people. He patted her cheek and went back to the other two, who were seated around a rickety table. Catarina struggled to a sitting position in the corner, the restraints on her arms making them ache. She leaned her head against the wall and watched them.
