“And you have my thanks, Captain,” Fa’ell said, bowing her head. Her dark hair was not done up in the style of the West, but the dress fit her so well that none noticed.
“Oh, don’t thank me,” Domadred continued. “Thank my wife, Kalisa. She would have gladly given it to you, before . . .” Domadred paused. “It would have given her great pleasure that a powerful woman such as you could still enjoy the feminine fineries of life. Kalisa believed that a lady should wear armor for battle, but when it suited her, dress in elegance as well. For although she was unskilled with a whip, my wife knew her way around a blade, I dare say. If you have any doubts, I have many a scar I could show to prove it!”
Domadred then gave a wistful smile. “Despite her warrior’s skill, however, Kalisa often said that most battles were won or lost while powers sat around a table. She felt that with swords sheathed at their hips, men thought better than when fighting at field or sea. And I must agree, for many a time it was her strategic mind and careful persuasion which got the angry admirals to listen to the logic of the Warden Women’s High Council and thereby turn the tide for peace instead of war. But I digress, my dear—you look splendid.” Domadred walked over and pulled out the last empty chair next to Nara and Kefta. “Please take a seat and join us. Trust us, the pleasure is ours.”
As Fa’ell sat, she smiled at everyone at the table one by one, purposely passing over Nara on her left. The large man wore a complex look on his face as though multifarious thoughts swam behind his light-green, gold-flecked eyes.
“Horace, please pour for our guests,” Domadred said, walking back to his seat. “I would like to make a toast.”
“Yes, Captain.” The short man came to Domadred’s side and poured from a large pitcher. As the man went about the table and filled their goblets with wine, Aleksi glanced at Luka. The nobleman was resting his elbows on the tabletop and his hands were steepled.
Seeing the youth’s gaze, Luka smiled and showed a set of pristine teeth that were unsettlingly white. As he held the man’s gaze, Aleksi’s heart grew tight in his chest. The youth’s left hand instinctively went to the scabbard of his sword and he forced himself to look away.
After Horace filled all of the wine goblets, Domadred raised his own cup high and spoke in an officious tone. “Officers of the Illusive Diamond, not just two days ago we mourned our fallen brothers, but we have also welcomed trusted allies into our ranks. As always, it is with a heavy heart that our new additions, Kefta Vanarus and Mareth Yerana, take this office and honor. New brothers, may your minds be at peace and may you accept your duty well. For we, your fellow officers, vow to stand by your side in both war and peace, while the High Arkai Aruna guides you from within. May the wind forever fill your sails and the Arkai’s grace stay strong in your hearts!”
The officers gave a hearty cheer and raised their goblets in praise before drinking their wine. As Aleksi drank, he once again cast his eyes at Luka. The nobleman was still looking at him, and a look of amusement whispered through the man’s emerald gaze.
“Horace,” Domadred continued, “please serve us.” Horace carved from a cut of meat that sat on a serving table behind them. The short man piled slices onto a platter covered with an assortment of cheeses, fruit, and bread.
“Horace here is the best ship’s cook I have ever encountered in all my days at sea.” Domadred winked at Brayden. “He is the only man in Terra who can take the same few ingredients and create a taste that will surprise you every time.” Horace muttered something under his breath as he continued to cut pieces of meat from the haunch. “And tonight he has cooked us a fabulous meal indeed! We feast on our finest meat and drink our best wine, for we not only dine with new officers but also with honored guests!”
Nara and Fa’ell nodded their heads to the captain and Aleksi did the same. Luka, however, did not move. His hands were still steepled, resting on the table as if posing for a sculpted epitome of superiority.
“Although for one who sits at my table,” Domadred continued, casting his eyes on Luka, “I use the term loosely. However, Luka says he has a message of treaty—and it is a message, I might add, which will most certainly decide his fate. So for his sake, I hope the treaty’s terms are favorable.”
“I assume,” Luka said disdainfully, “that that is a threat and my life is in danger despite the fact that I not only boarded your ship as a peace messenger but also saved the lives of your men?”
Domadred smiled. “You misunderstand, Lord. I invited you to this dinner to determine if I should treat you as a guest or as a prisoner. And I assure you this is not how we treat prisoners aboard the Illusive Diamond. So you are already off to a good start.”
“Splendid,” Luka said sarcastically. “I am so very glad, then, that there are no hard feelings between us, Captain.”
“None that I am aware of as yet, but the night is young and we have not heard your message.”
Luka shook his head and the muscles of his face grew tight. “Captain, I will tell you only one last time: I have been explicitly instructed to deliver my offer to you and you alone.”
“And as I told you, Luka,” Domadred answered casually, “if your message truly is so important, then the rest of my officers have a right to hear it as well.”
“Over dinner?”
“Indeed. For as I told the elegant Fa’ell, it is around a table in discussion that angry hearts are soothed.” Domadred paused, leaning in. “And let me be frank with you, Lord. Our hearts are not at peace with Vai’kel’s rulership.”
“So, if you keep your word,” Luka asked, spreading his ring-laden fingers wide, “I have until the end of dinner before you make your decision in this matter, correct?”
“Indeed, Lord. I have been called many things, but never a liar.” There was a pause as Domadred looked about the table. Seeing that Horace had finished serving everyone, the captain spoke again. “And so, let us all enjoy this meal.”
As everyone began eating, none spoke. The only sounds heard were the muted clinking of dining ware and Horace’s mumbling as he cut additional servings of meat. Soon, however, Marlen broke the silence.
“It’s been some time since we had a good whipping,” the doctor said between bites of meat. “And never before have I seen a woman wield a whip so well or seen a man receive his punishment so nobly.”
“And I hope it is a long spell before he receives it again,” Domadred said, looking at Kefta.
“Certainly, Captain.” Kefta bowed his head to Fa’ell, who sat to his left. “My words were unwarranted and I wear the proof of that on my back. I am honored to have received your forgiveness, lady.”
“I’m sure you are,” Fa’ell said, smiling sweetly. “In the same vein, I look forward to seeing Aleksi deliver his forgiveness upon you tomorrow during your duel.”
“Ahh, yes.” Kefta took a sip of wine and looked at Aleksi. “What happened with the boom today was a grave travesty of circumstance. I just hope the boy does not disappoint you with his martial performance.”
Aleksi remained silent but the Rune on his palm pulsed with anticipation.
“Nara,” Domadred interjected, “I trust you were satisfied with Doc Marlen’s skill in sewing? Although my memory of boarding the Diamond is slightly foggy—drowning will do that to a man—I do remember you were badly injured in the square.”
“Indeed, I was, Captain.” Nara scratched his scalp with a large hand. “But your good doctor stitched me up well, and my wounds will heal nicely. You both have my gratitude.”
“And now you have another fine addition,” Levain said, smiling, “to your famed collection of scars, Lionman.”
“That mountain of a man,” Marlen exclaimed, gesturing to Nara, “has more scars than any twenty men I have ever worked on. Probably more.”
“Such is the price of using the soma paints, or so I have heard,” Levain continued.
“And not the only price,” Fa’ell said. “My good doctor Marlen, do you have anything on this ship which
might help with our dear Lionman’s withdrawal?”
“Withdrawal?” Marlen asked, obviously surprised. “I had assumed Nara brought enough soma reserves for the voyage.”
“That would have been the intelligent thing to do.”
Nara cleared his throat. “As you know, our departure was slightly . . . rushed.”
“Unfortunately,” Marlen answered, “we only have medicine which can ease the pain and help with the nausea and sickness. But if things get bad . . .” His words trailed off and the doctor took a long drink from his goblet.
“I am only slightly familiar with the North-Eastern Berzerkers,” Domadred said carefully, “so please excuse my ignorance. But Nara . . . what exactly should we expect to happen during this withdrawal?”
“Oh, my good captain,” Luka exclaimed, “I am surprised you are not more familiar with soma withdrawal. It is my understanding that you smuggle the drug out of the Northern Continent often.”
Domadred ignored the nobleman and took a drink of wine.
“Well,” Luka continued, “I have some experience with the North-East. Lord Lionman, if you don’t mind, please allow me to impress the captain with my knowledge of the consequences of his illegal exports.”
Nara frowned but did not speak.
“It is my understanding,” Luka went on, “that our Berzerker here will suffer blackouts, delirium tremens, convulsions, and dysphoria. If he lives, that is.”
“The nobleman exaggerates,” Nara said, glaring at Luka and once again running a hand through his hair. “This is not the first time I have been through soma withdrawal, nor will it be the last. I will weather the storm, Captain. Have no fear of that. If I were to hazard a guess this time around, its effects will be little worse than what you see with severe seasickness.”
“Preposterous!” Fa’ell interjected. “My dear captain, why do you think Nara is constantly putting his hand through his hair and scratching his scars? It’s a nasty side effect of the soma plant called scalp itch. When he is on the paint, it’s only mild—but when he is off and goes through withdrawal . . .” Her voice faded into a mock whisper and she put her palm to the rounded top of her bare cleavage. “Let’s just say his pretty blond hair will be turning a slightly darker shade of red. And that’s just the beginning . . . Next he will reopen the doctor’s handiwork, and then, unless you bind his hands, he will tear at the flesh of his old scars, too.”
“Fa’ell, please—”
“This is because soma is profoundly irritating to human skin,” Fa’ell continued, ignoring Nara, “and when a Berzerker of Iksir uses the soma paints on open wounds, the active ingredient of the drug gets trapped in his flesh when the lacerations heal over. Without the counteragent applied regularly to balance the chemical reaction, the pain of the soma embedded in the Berzerker’s scars is quite unbearable. Or so I have been told . . .”
“I see,” Domadred said, frowning. There was a brief pause before the captain continued. “Speaking of blood and a long, drawn-out death, I have a question for Luka. Nobleman, I must ask, how goes the governance of the Central Continent? I have been quite curious how the Northern aristocracy views the Vai’kel unification. Is it everything you all had hoped for?”
“Well,” Luka answered, ripping apart a piece of bread and dabbing it into the red drippings on his plate, “as you know, we of the North came to Vai’kel’s aid at the request of the Masters’ Council.” Luka placed the dripping piece of bread into his mouth and, looking at Aleksi, chewed it slowly. “We liberated the people from their treacherous and warmongering rulers. And now women and children no longer die in the streets. So yes, Captain, I would say we have accomplished our goal. I would have assumed that you, however, being a veteran of that horrid war, would agree with our sentiment.”
“And how have the people responded to their newfound safety?”
The nobleman paused, idly raising a finger adorned with a large emerald signet ring. “Some have gracefully received the gifts they were given, while sadly, others have been less than appreciative. Apparently, they would prefer chaotic anarchy over peace and prosperity.”
“Peace and prosperity?” Levain laughed. “It’s a bloody occupation. Your Northern lords are stealing the continent’s wealth. They are the only ones who are prospering from this so-called peace.”
Luka eyed Levain flatly. “You of all people should know, Carpenter; rebuilding a continent is quite expensive. Sadly, the venture has been a financial loss overall. But still we persevere. You may call it a public service to the greater good. The most tiring thing, however, has been putting down Vai’kel’s numerous groups of bandits. They have proven to be quite persistent despite their small numbers.”
“Bandits or rebels?” Valen asked. “I have heard that your so-called bandits are actually a cohesive resistance. A resistance united against your tyranny.”
“Boatswain, you honestly think the Resistance is united? Ha! Hardly.” Luka took a long drink from his goblet and held it up for Horace to refill. “They will fall soon enough. In all truth, a few misguided farmhands with fissured leadership are of little actual threat to the United Rulership of Vai’kel or the Northern Council.”
“Northern Council? Don’t you mean Asura, the supreme commander of the Northern Empire?” This time, it was Dr. Marlen who spoke, and his green eyes were filled with old anger. “All of Terra knows Asura manipulated the Northern common folk into overthrowing his competition, thereby making him high dictator of the North!”
“The people chose wisely,” Luka answered. “And Asura merely holds the position until the time comes for him to grant leadership to the true leader of the Northern people—someone who shall rule by divine right, not some petty council.”
“True leader, ha!” Marlen retorted. “Asura controlled the people, even in their rebellion. I was there when it happened. Asura had the rest of the council slaughtered! When it was over, every other member’s estate had been burned to the ground with them and their families inside!”
“Careful, my green-eyed friend,” Luka said, looking at Marlen. “You do not need more enemies than you already have. Many still remember what you did that day, and many still do not approve.” Luka then looked back at Domadred. “The truth of the matter is that the people of the North grew tired of the council’s tyranny and oppression, and Asura rose up to protect them. Most importantly, however, the people now rejoice under his rule. From his leadership we of the North have become the most prosperous nation in the entire world. In turn, we have extended that prosperity to Vai’kel. So, to answer your question, we have given the people of the Central Continent a generous gift that only a foolish handful have rejected.”
“It takes only a dedicated few to lead,” Domadred answered, “for the many to follow . . .”
“Spoken like a true dissident,” Luka said, laughing. “I must remind myself that you were involved in the assassination of your senior, the former prime admiral of the Thalassocracy.”
“A fool’s lie!” Domadred growled. “And you know it.”
“Indeed, I do know the truth, Captain,” Luka said nonchalantly. “And lucky for you, so does Lord Asura. We know of your innocence, and we also know of your involvement with the Resistance. Sadly, as far as your fellow Western captains are concerned, your innocence is nothing more than idle hearsay. They now know you only as a traitor, for you are stripped of your honor and outlawed even in your own waters. It is no wonder you are drawn to the Resistance, Domadred. You share their same sad fate and dire situation.”
“I stand firm in the truth, Luka. And the Guardians will grant me both justice and revenge.”
“Do not believe everything you tell yourself, Captain. You have no allies by sea, and the world has become tired of your piracy. More importantly, the Resistance’s rebellion has failed and no deific gods have come down from the Zenith to aid them. While you are cast adrift, your so-called freedom fighters starve in the sewers and deep forests of Vai’kel. The Guardians have forsaken you b
oth. But lucky for you, Asura is not only generous but also wise. Instead of rooting the Resistance from their hideouts and causing unnecessary bloodshed, he would prefer to end things amicably. He has an offer that will not only vindicate you but appease the Resistance leaders and end this needless conflict and loss of life.”
Luka resteepled his hands and eyed Domadred over his fingertips. “If, however, you do not accept Asura’s terms, I guarantee that you will not find your justice, Captain. Nor will your fellows in the Resistance live to see another season. For not only will the Illusive Diamond rest quietly on the bottom of the ocean, all who oppose the United Rulership of Vai’kel will share your fate.”
“You are a fool to threaten a man while alone at sea on his ship.”
“No,” Luka answered with a thin smile, “actually, it is an offer—if you’re not fool enough to reject it, that is.”
Levain shook his head. “It’s been a while since we had Northern nobility on this ship. I had forgotten their way with words.”
“If I remember correctly,” Kefta chuckled, “the last one ended up gagged and in the brig. I do believe he was there for nearly a month before we ransomed him off. He started off all haughty with noble fire, but by the end, his words were not quite so eloquent.”
“I trust you do not cage peace doves, Quartermaster,” Luka said calmly. “Especially ones who risked their lives to save your ship and crew only days prior. You possibly don’t know, but it was I who slayed your brother’s killer. More importantly, I am here to offer you both pardon and peace, so do not insult me more than you already have.”
“Yours is the offer of a man’s dying breath,” Domadred said, as he looked about the table, “for it seems that we all have finished the food before us.” Domadred paused, idly stroking his beard before he continued. “But, lucky for you, I enjoy some whiskey and a cigar before a meal has reached its fateful end.”
What is Luka’s ultimate goal? Aleksi thought, tension gripping his heart. If he knows who I am, then how does the Masters’ Academy fit into his and Asura’s plans? What do they want with me?
Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles) Page 29
