Black Spice (Book 3)

by James R. Sanford

  Tonah raised his thumb and two fingers in the sign of the feathered crest and they all fell quiet. Kyric had seen this sign used in the village. It could be a call for attention, or it could mean that he intended to say something serious. And it had other uses he didn’t understand. Yesterday he had seen a small group of fishermen having a lively discussion when one of them suddenly raised the sign above his head. The others immediately stopped talking and did the same, and they stood that way, in reverence or in a meditation, for several minutes.

  Tonah turned to fully face his high priest. “Ubtarune, I would hear wise words from you now.”

  The old priest struggled to his feet. Thin and weathered, he looked like he had spent a lifetime exposed to the elements — not what Kyric expected of one in a privileged caste. “It would be my honor to speak such words, but my wisdom does not extend beyond spiritual matters.” As he spoke the bird tattoo on the side of his face seemed to rustle its wings. “Tonight I will burn spice and ask the Powers to send a messenger. I will make vigil with the great ones who watch.”

  “Your magic is strong, my friend,” Tonah said. “I know you will be answered.” But he didn’t look convinced.

  Aiyan rose to his feet. When he began speaking they sat still and listened, even though they didn’t understand.

  “King Tonah, I have told you that I am a warrior of the clan of the flaming blade. I believe that this Soth Garo who has come to your land is one of the men of the dragon’s blood. They are our sworn enemies, and if he is one of them, it is my sacred duty to slay him and release all who are under the spell of his black blood. I mean to do this.”

  He let Kyric translate and then continued. “I will go south and try to engage him in single combat. I only ask for your best scout to show me the way.”

  Before Tonah could answer, Mahai butted in. “I’ll be your guide.”

  Aiyan bowed. “My thanks.”

  “One of my hunters,” said Tonah, “must go with you as well. Wait for my son’s return.” He looked sidelong at Ubtarune. “A bird has told me that he is very near. Let a spirit time be called for tonight; let it be a night of spice and smoke.”

  Tonah had the coffee served then, and there was no more debate. Ellec spoke with him at length about hiring carpenters to help seat the new mast, and Birjen made a face over his first sip of cardamom coffee. Kyric wasn’t surprised.

  When the meeting was over and they stood outside, Ellec motioned for Aiyan to follow him. Kyric and Lerica tagged along, Lerica saying, “Well, what do you think about this Soth Garo and his boys?”

  Ellec shushed her at once, as if the passing Tialuccans would understand, and waved them along to the harbor, leading them down the dock like a team of horses, their boots making a hollow clop against the planks. They reached his cabin aboard Calico, and he closed the door before he said anything.

  “This is very bad, but I think we can replace the mast and get out of here before it all blows up and rains down upon us. I wanted to go back with a hold full of all the different spices, but even if we return with nothing but cardamom, we’ll still be stupidly rich. Let’s see. A few days to get the new mast painted, sealed, and seated, a couple more for rigging-out and testing — call it a week before we can set sail. Certainly we have that much time.”

  Lerica made the sign of the feathered crest, and Kyric couldn’t help but grin. “These Baskillians didn’t swim here. They came on a ship. I’m betting that it’s bigger than Calico and might even mount a canon or two.”

  Ellec froze. “Good Goddess. It could be a war galleon. But we still have no choice but to stay the week and finish repairs.” He snapped his fingers. “Those Onakai people, was their home town on the coast like this one? We have to ask this Prince Mahai if a strange ship was spotted by anyone. And I must tell Pallan to post a watch on the headland — ”

  As he turned to go, Aiyan took hold of his sleeve and spun him back. He faced Aiyan with a hard look and a sharp intake of breath that sounded like a hiss.

  Aiyan ignored it. “Did you not hear what I said in there?”

  “This is my ship,” Ellec said evenly. “No one touches me on my ship.”

  Aiyan let go of him. “I didn’t give you those rudders so you could make a quick trade and run. My purpose goes far beyond checking the accuracy of the charts and learning the situation here.”

  “I understand. Your princess wishes you to make treaties with all the clans, not just one. But that’s not going to happen with this island-wide war.”

  “I am not here to negotiate treaties or trade for spice.”

  Ellec raised his hands. “What then?”

  “You haven’t been listening, Captain.”

  Ellec took a breath then, the glint of gold fever fading in his eyes. He sat in his chair. “You weren’t just telling a story in there. You really mean to kill this Baskillian albino. But you could not have known what was happening, so what is your true reason for being here?”

  “My order suspected that the men of the dragon’s blood were involved with the rediscovery of these islands. We know they gave a copy of the rudders to an Aevan senator who is now retired and we fear that they will provide another to the Baskillians if they have not already done so. And while Princess Aerlyn is interested in the spice trade, she is more interested in preventing a war between the empire and the Western states.”

  Ellec sat thoughtful for a moment. At last he said, “No one will be able to stop it. Already it is too late. It will simply be a matter of time.”

  “Then let it be later rather than sooner.”

  “These poor people,” Lerica said. “They’ll be caught in the middle of it.”

  Ellec shook his head at that. He leaned forward and spoke reasonably to Aiyan. “I still don’t see what you can do here. Killing one man may indeed change the course of this war, or it may not. Once the ship is repaired, my time here will be limited.”

  “We had an agreement.”

  Ellec cleared his throat. “You should be aware of the unwritten law stating that if your partner starts doing crazy things then all deals are off.”

  “Then do what you need to do,” Aiyan said very quietly. He was smoldering. “Be as mercenary as you like, Captain. Don’t let me stop you.”

  Kyric had wanted to tell Lerica something for some time now. Maybe this was the time for Ellec to hear it too.

  “Tell him the story,” he said to Aiyan. “Tell him of Cauldin and Aumgradmal, of the Pyxidium and the Flame.”

  Aiyan considered it for a moment. “That’s not for outsiders.”

  “Most outsiders wouldn’t believe or understand it. But Ellec and Lerica would, and you know that.”

  Aiyan sat down and leaned back against the bulkhead. “Alright. Go ahead and tell it.”

  Kyric swallowed. “Me?”

  “Yes. We all have to tell it sooner or later.”

  So he did. It seemed to Kyric that it came out dry and unadorned, clearly lacking the drama of Aiyan’s version. That’s not fair, he thought. He knew all the poetry of the Eddur, yet he could find no music in his own words. He didn’t have Aiyan’s knack for theatre, and public speaking was the one thing the good sisters never made him practice.

  The telling made him sweaty. Aiyan helped him through a few parts he would have had to gloss over. Ellec made noises in his throat the whole time, but Lerica was so quiet you couldn’t hear her breathe. When he had finished, Ellec simply stood and walked out of the cabin. Lerica stared at the deck, as if long-expected bad news had finally come.

  Aiyan went out on deck and they followed, Lerica still not meeting Kyric’s eye. “What’s wrong?” he whispered to her.

  “Nothing,” she said, forcing a thin smile. “Only . . . you should have told me that story before we crossed the line.”

  Ellec stood at the rail watching the setting sun turn a deep red. It touched the horizon, throwing a bloody light across the sea Aiyan stood next to him and gazed down the empty shoreline. The Tialuccans had gone
home to prepare for the evening.

  At last Ellec said, “What do you want from me?”

  “Just stick around for a while.”

  Ellec turned to face him. “Alright. For a while.”

  CHAPTER 3: Cardamom and Smoke

  Kyric held Lerica’s hand as they strolled the town. A tall torch stood in front of every house, the flames fanned by the nighttime breeze. Small handfuls of people moved from place to place, and streams of smoke trailed from the sticks of incense they all carried. They stood talking in doorways, or in the rock gardens, or around the pavilion in the middle of town where Ubtarune had held a brief ceremony before heading off alone to watch with the bird heads. Several groups clustered around fires, where they tossed palm leaves and cardamom pods into the flames to produce a thick, scented smoke. But it was no festival. There was no food or drink, only smoke, and everyone spoke quietly, their gestures subdued. It was like they all shared a thought, but Kyric had no idea what it might be.

  They wandered toward the inlet, making their way to the beach where some older teenagers had their own fire. They opened a space in their circle, and Kyric suddenly realized that he had passed from that world some time ago. It was less than a week till winter solstice, and three days after that he would turn twenty-one.

  The tide was halfway out. He led Lerica down to the water and they walked on the firm wet sand. Beyond the beach, a stream running down from the highlands skirted against Tiahnu Rock before it spilled over a ledge and into the sea. The great fist of stone towered over them in the dark. The wind died and cardamom smoke billowed around them in a torch-lit haze.

  “Every so often,” said Lerica, “I suddenly feel that all of this is not real. That we couldn’t have sailed so far, that we couldn’t be standing here on one of the lost Spice Islands.”

  “That happens to me too, but usually when I’m looking at you. I say to myself, how could a girl this beautiful want anything to do with me?”

  Lerica smiled but shook her head. “I’m not curvy enough to be beautiful. My hair is brittle and salt dried, and my voice is rough from yelling at sailors. Look at me. There’s nothing girly about me. I’m just a grown-up tomboy.”

  “You don’t seem to feel that way when I’m in your bed.”

  She smiled again, wistfully. “No. You make me feel . . . very desirable.”

  “Then why haven’t you wanted me to. . . . “

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you afraid of getting pregnant?”

  She dropped his hand and straightened. “You dumb ass. If it were possible for us, I would surely be knocked-up by now. You men are all so stupid. You leave it to us to know the time to abstain, never counting days yourselves, then you complain when we do.”

  Kyric turned to her. “What do you mean if it were possible for us?”

  She looked away. “I can only be given a child by a man of my clan.”

  “Then you really are Ariaen’kahta. You might have told me that before we crossed the line.”

  She frowned. “Where on Aerth did you hear — .” She stopped and shook her head. “I keep forgetting your education. You would be a warrior scholar, like in the olden days.”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re going with Aiyan, aren’t you? You’re going to help him kill Soth Garo.”

  “Yes.”

  She waved the smoke away from her face. “You’ll always go with him, won’t you? Even if we all get rich from this. You’ll go with him even if it kills you.”

  He didn’t know what to say to her. “Why do we have to be so serious tonight?”

  “We’ve caught the mood of the Tialuccans,” she said, making the feathered crest. “This is a night of spice and smoke.”

  “So I guess going back to your cabin right now is a bad idea.”

  “No,” she said, taking his arm, “it isn’t.”

  They followed a seaside path back to the dock, passing racks where fishing nets hung, getting there just as Prince Mahai came into the torchlight from the opposite direction. He dripped water from his long mane of hair and his rolled pajama shorts, which was all he had on, and he carried an odd weapon — a piece of ivory the size of Kyric’s leg, slightly bent and sharpened on the inside angle, with a hand span of shark’s teeth at the business end.

  Kyric didn’t know what to do. Since the man was a prince, he bowed.

  Mahai walked up to him. “Bowing is more for indoors around here. Most of us just wave at each other when we meet.”

  Kyric was surprised at the conversational way Mahai spoke Baskillian. Tonah and his court used the more formal form.

  “I know,” Kyric said. “But I thought that since you were a prince. . . . “

  “There is no Onakai nation any longer. I don’t think I can call myself a prince.”

  “King Tonah does,” Kyric said, “and that’s good enough for me.”

  “Okay, but no more bowing.” Mahai said, serious, but in an innocent way.

  “Did you see Ubtarune out on the headland? Is he still sitting on top of that empty pole, surrounded by all those bird heads?”

  “I didn’t go that far. I went down to where the waves are gentle, so I could speak with my clan spirit. But I’m sure that he’s still there. These priests usually have to torture themselves for days before they hear the call.”

  They shared a brief smile at that and Kyric clearly felt the moment, though he couldn’t give it a name. Mahai said goodnight and went on his way.

  Kyric shook his head as they stepped onto Calico’s plank. How could a man see his family and nation slaughtered and still be capable of a smile? How could he go on at all? He too carried an inner fire, and that had been the name of the moment.

  Aiyan knocked on the cabin door as two rings sounded from the ship’s bell. “No practice today,” he called. “We head inland as soon as I can see King Tonah. Dress appropriately.”

  Two bells in the morning watch, Kyric thought foggily. Five o’clock. It had been nice of Aiyan to let them sleep in.

  Lerica rolled over and wrapped her arms around his waist. “One more bell,” she murmured.

  Last night still echoed inside him. Lerica’s passion had been a breaking tempest, a storm at sea, and with each of his caresses the winds grew wilder, at last overwhelming him. Their kisses were desperate, more frightening than the fears they sought to push away. He pressed against her and she pulled back hard, as close as they could be and wanting to be closer still. Then there was calm in her eye.

  He sat up and lit the lantern. “Can’t. I have to go to work.”

  After a quick breakfast and a sunrise dip in the ocean, Kyric packed all the food and water he could carry and assembled his weapons. He found his bow-sling, and the extra string for his bow. Aiyan had given him eighteen arrows, which wasn’t bad. His sword held an excellent edge, but the wheel-lock had been loaded and ready for too long. He drew the load by hand. It was a pain, but gods knew the uproar he would cause if he fired two shots right now. Once he had cleaned the barrels and reloaded, he carefully wound the springs.

  He started to leave the ship. Armor. Of course. Aiyan hadn’t had it made for practice. It was for this. When he opened the locker where it was kept, he laughed. Aiyan had not only taken his hardened vest, he had taken a nut helmet as well. Then Kyric thought about Prince Mahai’s war club and stopped laughing. He took the other helmet.

  He found Aiyan pacing a rut into the street in front of King Tonah’s house. He was dressed for battle, complete with his longbow.

  “Prince Caleem has come back,” Aiyan said. “He arrived in the middle of the night and the house has been closed tight since then. No one has gone in or out all morning.” He stopped and stood still. “The rumor is that his band was ambushed and he was the sole survivor.”

  Ellec and Lerica joined them a few minutes later, and they waited with hats and helmets in hand until Tonah’s nephew at last opened the door.

  King Tonah sat on his mat speaking with Ilara and Prince
Mahai. No one else was there. They said their good mornings and Aiyan got straight to business.

  “We have heard that your son has returned. Would it be possible for us to talk to him?”

  Tonah shook his head. “Not now. He is resting. He was very tired and had been injured. But Ilara sang a healing song to him, so he will be better very soon. I spoke with him at length last night. I can tell you what he discovered.”

  “Is it true,” said Aiyan, “that all were killed but him?”

  Tonah nodded slowly. “It is. Some of them were good friends.” He shifted on his mat to sit cross-legged.

  “There is not much to tell. My son led the hunters through Manutu land, following the long western vale. When he came to the end, he met some men who traded with a nearby Hariji settlement. They told him that the Hariji hunters had gone to join a great war band. Caleem and his men continued southward, slipping through the wooded pass. They saw no Hariji for a full day. Caleem could not know that Soth Garo’s army was close, on its way to attack the Onakai. They stumbled upon a large band of Hariji hunters, led by a Baskillian who carried a long powder weapon — “

  “Firearm,” Mahai prompted.

  “Firearm,” continued Tonah, “and a necklace of human bones. They tried to run but some of the Hariji had got behind them. They fought well but were slaughtered. By good chance, Caleem was knocked out and fell into some thick underbrush. When he awoke, they were beating the bush, looking for him, so he crawled away.”

  “I don’t like the tale or the timing,” Aiyan said to Kyric, under his breath. “And we don’t know any more than we did.”

  “The timing?”

  “The story doesn’t really account for a fifteen-day absence.”

  Tonah sat waiting. Aiyan said to him, “I am prepared to go and confront Soth Garo. I will leave at once.”

  Tonah held up a hand. “You will not. Caleem must go with you, and he will not be ready until tomorrow.”

  Aiyan thought about his next words for a moment. “It is not necessary that your son should suffer the hardship of traveling with us after his wounding and long journey home. Surely Mahai can serve as your eyes and ears.”