by Rosie Scott
I watched her chug the potion as I replied, “Enough to understand the queen has an oddly erotic obsession with power and the people don't feel secure under her rule.”
Cyrene wiped off her lips. “Is everything erotic to you?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately.
She chuckled and replaced the cork in the empty bottle. “Well, you've offered a good summary. Queen Tilda has been in power since the Golden Era. Eteri has an elective monarchy, but only the ruler is eligible to elect their successor. You can imagine how such a government appears to the people who suffer on its behalf. Unlike Chairel, Eteri puts few restrictions on its mages. It even allows necromancers in its armies, but it does not allow them promotions to leadership positions.”
“Why?”
“Because death mages have access to spells that allow them to replenish their energy reserves with the life force of living beings. It's called leeching. As a result, necromancers become high with power to the point of insanity, and it affects their ability to lead intelligently.”
“The queen doesn't want competition,” I jested dryly.
Cyrene smiled at the jab. “No, I suppose not. Regardless, Eteri has relatively lax rules on magic. There are few magically illiterate Vhiri, and they treat the Eteri Sentinels like royalty. Being a soldier is a sense of pride for my people. As a result, people sign up for the army in droves. Eteri's military is the most disciplined in the world, and second only in size to Chairel's. You've probably heard that Chairel and Eteri hate each other. Even when not at war, they bicker in the seas between Narangar and Scirocco because they want to be. Chairel wishes to enforce its oppressive magical restrictions on the world. Eteri takes special offense to this because Chairel's population consists of humans, dwarves, and Celds.”
“Racists in Eteri?” I blurted, feigning shock. “Nooo.”
Cyrene laughed. “Well, that is its culture. We are taught the Vhiri are a superior race because of our magical enlightenment, extraordinarily long lifespans, and widespread education. The masses of Chairel have never successfully rebelled against its overbearing government, so they're viewed as weak. Humans are weak because of their short lifespans. Dwarves are primitive because of their magical illiteracy, unintelligible accents, and crude culture. Celds are weak because throughout history they were easily dominated in warfare, whether due to their peaceful natures or their biological vulnerabilities.
“Spreading these biases of other races over time has allowed Tilda to essentially control Eteri's civilians. They're always raring for war. They are raised to dominate, dominate, dominate. Throughout the centuries Tilda has picked meaningless fights for trivial reasons, costing Eteri's reputation and countless lives, yet she manages to get her people to believe they are justified.
“This is one reason why I left. After centuries in power, Tilda has perfected this manipulation. The Vhiri culture is now synonymous with senseless slaughter. They mock us around the world for being high elves because of our arrogance and isolation. But Eteri's isolation is intentional. I believe the queen doesn't allow us other points of view because then we might question our loyalty and everything our culture has taught us to believe.”
“Like the selfishness of Alderi men,” I commented, recalling her earlier words.
Cyrene started picking at the fabric of her bedroll, looking ashamed. “Yes, well, that is my point. In Eteri, they consider the Alderi the lowest of the low.”
I reached through the tent flaps to put my cigarette out in the mud. “Damn. That's harsh. Why?”
She hesitated. “Please keep in mind that I don't personally believe these things or say them to hurt you.”
Apprehension clouded my chest.
“They teach Vhiri children that the Alderi are savages. Uncultured. Incapable of emotion and riddled with disease.”
“Believe it or not, I've been called worse.”
Cyrene met my gaze to ensure she hadn't crossed a line. “As you can see, we are taught to avoid and fear dark elves more than any other race. I personally believe it's because the queen relies on the Alderi assassins to carry out her dirty work throughout Arrayis and doesn't want the connection to be obvious to her people.”
“I lived in Hazarmaveth,” I told her, “which is the city below southern Eteri. Though we knew little of the surface as slaves, one thing we did know was Eteri's reliance on underground assassins.”
Cyrene nodded. “That makes sense. Rumors connect Queen Tilda to hundreds of notable assassinations, the latest being King Siraj's in 352. Her hatred of the Alderi gives many cause to doubt her involvement in such underhanded events.”
“In Scirocco, we had no trouble finding women who welcomed us,” I commented. “Some Vhiri there regarded us with disgust, but the queen's racism doesn't affect everyone.”
“Not by their mindsets, perhaps,” Cyrene conceded. “But there have been plenty of incidents where the queen has punished her own people for involving themselves with the Alderi traders in Scirocco. Vhiri are often shamed for being seen with the Alderi. Half-Alderi children turn up dead or missing.”
I snorted with disgust. “It's no wonder few traders in Scirocco wanted anything to do with us.”
“You can see why I wanted to leave,” she prodded. “Eteri's culture is one you must adapt to in order to be comfortable, but if you're a person of any decency, you wouldn't want to adapt at all. Eteri only knows war and bloodshed.”
“That's why you're here talking late into the night with a savage.” I smirked.
Cyrene laughed softly. “Yes, well, I'm trying to overcome my faults. Few Alderi settle in Misu, and all those who do try to seduce me and then act disinterested in anything else when I reject them. I've struggled over the years with how to view them considering what they taught me in Eteri and the experiences I've had with them. In many ways, biases are exaggerated versions of reality. Although I understand the Alderi feel emotion like the rest of us, sometimes I still find them cold.”
“If Koby were here, he'd tell you I have a heart. It's just hard to get to.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
Cyrene smiled. “I believe it, Calder. I said before that meeting you and your crew has challenged my biases. You all risked your lives in that battle with the afancs, and I appreciate it. Misu is in your debt. That's why it pained me that you thought I called you selfish. You're not. I can tell you've developed a sense of duty when it comes to the wildlands. Vallen sings your praises—”
“Even behind my back when he could be honest?”
She huffed with amusement. “Even so. Misu could use the aid of someone like you.”
I smirked, understanding her inevitable suggestion. “Just tell me what you need, and I'll try my best.”
“Misu needs people and supplies,” Cyrene replied.
“People? I'm not a kidnapper.”
Cyrene chuckled. “I'd hope not, but from what I've heard, you and Koby have taken to traveling the world and freeing slaves. If you meet any who are interested in starting anew, Misu would be in your debt for directing or bringing them here.”
“Misu's already in my debt, so you've said.”
“Don't get greedy,” she teased.
“I'll do what I can,” I promised, already kicking myself for acquiring more responsibilities.
“I'd appreciate it. Misu is so isolated it hurts its own growth. Few of its civilians travel outside its territory to even spread word of its existence.”
“Yet, here you are.”
Cyrene smiled again. “Here I am.”
“Why does it fall on you? Have you established yourself as a leader?”
Cyrene shook her head. “Being a leader is the last thing I want. I know how power corrupts rulers and brings ruin to their kingdoms. I do what I can for Misu because I want it to grow. I think of myself as its protector, not its leader. I am the only one left who survived the flood. The others either left or died in subsequent tragedies. I remember what Misu was like before. I feel it's my duty to help it thri
ve. In many ways, that means I must defend the other settlements or help Vallen on excursions like this. Only by aiding others will they remember us when we are the ones in need. Perhaps you agree, considering you and Vallen are already fond of each other.”
“Eh—I have a lot more to do to match the generosity he's shown us,” I admitted. “Generally, I'm called to action out of guilt.”
“And homicidal tendencies,” Cyrene joked, reminding me of my words in Tenesea when we'd met.
I chuckled. “That, too.”
Cyrene turned to rummage through her knapsack. “Well, I promised you games of cards, and we haven't even brought them out yet. Have you ever played elemental war?”
“Never heard of it, but I thought you hated war.”
“I do. But this is pretend. I thought you said your imagination runs wild, Calder. Surely you'll be able to catch on.” She brought out a deck of cards and smiled mischievously.
“Are you flirting with me?”
“No, just teasing.”
“Damn it.”
Cyrene laughed. “You're not lucky tonight, so let's get to playing. I won't even have to teach you the game incorrectly to win.”
Fourteen
77th of High Star, 359
“Calder. Koby.” Jeremoth's black eyes widened with surprise, and he spread his arms out wide in celebration. “Gods damn, I thought you two went and got yourselves killed.”
“It's not for a lack of trying,” I greeted with a grin, grasping his hand for a quick casual shake of rapport.
“We bring lots of friends and lots of new business,” Koby added, repeating the gesture with Jeremoth before motioning back at the others. About a dozen crew members and warriors joined us to try Alderi ale, while the others dispersed in Silvi to rest, party, and resupply before we left to continue to the Forks.
Jeremoth bowed in gratitude. “You men are too kind.”
Jaecar wandered to the bar around the others, and Jeremoth's eyes lit up with recognition. The two shook happily as Jeremoth exclaimed, “What a day, man! So many familiar faces! Do you need a job harvesting?”
Jaecar grinned and slipped on a bar stool. “Not this time, Jerry. I'm with Calder and Koby's crew now. We're doing a little pirate hunting.”
“Yeah?” Jeremoth seemed impressed. “You decided life's a little too long for your liking?”
Jaecar laughed. “No, we're actually putting up a fight. They raided the northern paddies.”
“Damn. Good luck, then. The last thing we need is a ferris shortage.” Jeremoth knowingly glanced at me as he raised his eyebrows with concern.
“Any activity in Silvi we should know about?” Koby inquired.
Jeremoth looked thoughtful as he started pulling out clean mugs for all of us. “Let me think. You know how little action this harbor sees anymore.” He perked up. “Ah. Somebody hired a bunch of mercenaries from the local watering holes and stole a schooner from the southern docks early this moon. Seems like the pirates are inspiring copycats.”
“That's the last thing we need,” I lamented.
“At least the ship they stole wasn't ours,” Koby jested.
I huffed. “If the damn thing was finished I would've expected nothing less.”
“Oh, is that ship they're building in the southern harbor yours?” Jeremoth asked, nodding toward the eastern wall of his tavern like we could see it from here.
“Sure is,” I replied. Before stopping at the tavern, we visited the harbor for an update. The builders estimated the barque would take another moon to complete. By the time we returned from the Forks—assuming we returned at all—we could mercifully set sail.
“Then I'll be charging you double because that thing's a beaut,” Jeremoth jested. “Hell, the first time I see you two in years and you're already rich.”
“We last saw you two shipwrecks ago,” I informed him, jerking a thumb back to where Vallen spoke with Jayce. “We're not rich yet; we just have connections now.”
Jeremoth balked at the mention of our ails. “Then they're damn good ones.”
“That they are,” Koby agreed.
“Enough talking!” Kali shoved between Koby and me and slapped the bar. “Let's get drunk!”
“Yes, ma'am!” Jeremoth blurted light-heartedly, to which a few of us laughed. He watched as Jayce grabbed Kali into an embrace from behind and nuzzled her lover's neck. “Are you two ladies brave enough to try my famous Alderi ale?”
“Let's do it,” Jayce replied jovially, nipping at Kali's ear.
“That's why we're here,” Kali agreed in an affirmation.
“Well,” Jeremoth began, removing the cork from a bottle covered in warning labels, “might I suggest getting a room for the night? Neither of you are Alderi. Many experience delirium and sickness after drinking my brew.”
“Now, that just sounds like a challenge,” Kali said with a fearless grin.
“We'll take the room, too,” Jayce added, squeezing her lover's waist.
“We have a long trip ahead,” I commented. “Give us all rooms, Jeremoth.” I dug a hand in my satchel for gold. “My treat.”
“I love you, boss,” Kali teased gratefully, playfully pushing my shoulder.
“I know.” I smirked, counting gold onto the counter.
Minutes later, our crew took up every seat of Jeremoth's bar. Koby and I stood to drink, leaving the bar stools to those who were more likely to need them after the torture of drinking Alderi ale. Other than Koby, Jaecar, and me, the only person who had tried the toxic brew was Hassan during a previous stay in Silvi. Though his half-Alderi blood steeled his stomach against its caustic effects, he told us he hated it and swore never to drink it again. Thanks to Kali's incessant goading and competitiveness, he quickly broke that promise to himself. The vile liquid swirled in Hassan's mug as he stared at it with total misery.
“You first, brother,” Jayce prodded, punching Vallen in the shoulder so hard his stool squeaked with the shift of his body.
“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute,” Vallen complained light-heartedly, bringing his mug to his nose and grimacing. Glancing over at where Koby and I watched, he jested, “You two must be secret pirates working for Cale and this is your way of killing us all.”
I lifted my hands in faux surrender and backed away from the bar slowly as the others laughed.
“None of you will finish your first mug,” Koby announced with certainty over the tavern chatter. “If this was a plan to kill you all, it wouldn't work. By nightfall, all this ale will be ours.” He wagged a finger at me, Jaecar, and himself.
“Sounds like another challenge,” Kali shouted over.
“It's a challenge you'll hate challenging,” Koby shot back with a grin.
Vallen hit the bar to call our attention back to him. “Let's get this over with.” Squinting preemptively in expectation of pain, he tilted his mug back and started chugging in a show of pure will. After only two gulps, however, he clashed the glass back into the bar and gasped, “It burns!”
I chuckled roughly and patted him on the back. “Yep.”
“Good gods, this shit is awful!” Vallen cleared his throat before staring at the mug in disbelief.
“Don't be a coward, brother,” Jayce teased.
“I'd rather be a coward than dead!” Vallen shoved the mug in my direction. “You can have it, friend. I'm ordering something fit for consumption.”
I grinned smugly and grabbed the glass to start drinking.
“Don't be a coward, sister,” Vallen mocked as Jayce chortled and lifted her cup.
“I don't care if I'm shitting out my intestines in the morning,” Jayce began, “I will be drinking more than you.”
With that, she threw her head back and started drinking. The rest of us watched with slowly growing concern as her face darkened three shades and her free hand balled into a fist on the bar. Still, she finished the ale, slammed the mug on the counter so hard it cracked, and turned to Kali in the midst of a daze.
“Do I still
have a tongue?” she demanded, her voice slurred from numbness.
Kali laughed and teased, “You'd better.”
Jayce collapsed over the bar, her face dripping with sweat over her forearm.
“My sister is a monster,” Vallen blurted, though he shook Jayce's shoulders with pride.
“That's one down,” Kali taunted Koby as she prepared to try hers. “We've already beat your claim.”
“Calm that ego,” Koby retorted light-heartedly. “There won't be another.” He pointed at Jayce. “And this ale might still make a reappearance.”
Kali snorted. On her other side, Hassan looked like he was on his deathbed as he waited his turn, but he managed to tease his friend, “It was nice knowing you.”
Kali raised a middle finger at him in response as she started drinking. Within seconds, she tore the mug away from her lips and swayed over the bar, staring at it with wide, dazed eyes.
“Already?” Hassan badgered.
“Aww, leave the poor girl alone,” Hilly interjected. “She's human. Ain't made for this.”
“Says a dwarf,” Hassan retorted.
“Us dwarves are born with ale for blood, ya puffy purple prick,” Hilly blurted.
Hassan burst into laughter and leaned over to put an arm around Hilly's shoulders as she sat atop the next stool over. “I intend to have that creative nickname put on my headstone.”
“I'll get to workin' on carvin' it tonight, then,” Hilly promised with a grin.
On Hassan's other side, Kali stood up uneasily. She swallowed a few times in a row as if warding off nausea. At the other end of the bar, Jeremoth prepared a mop and bucket with the understanding he'd soon have to use them. All at once, vomit spewed from Kali's lips and over the polished wood in a crescendo. Hassan cursed and hurried off his stool to avoid it. Because she had passed out, Jayce didn't flinch when she was hit with regurgitated ale. A few Alderi men who were strangers to us clapped and whistled from elsewhere in the tavern after seeing it, entertained by a good show.
Kali still swayed, only kept steady by Hassan's hand at her back. With eyes bloodshot from the display, she glared down the bar at me and said hoarsely, “I don't love you anymore, boss.”
