Lady of the Star Wind

by Veronica Scott

“Don’t build too much on whatever the neurotoxins in the snake venom made you dream,” Mark said. “But if you need to know something, it’ll come back.”

  “You think so?” Sandy seemed to find the idea comforting.

  Mark hadn’t thought the remark through before he said it. He wanted to end the conversation, which was making him uncomfortable because he didn’t like any discussion of the strange things she’d hallucinated in her coma. He wanted to avoid reminders of the whole episode. Now he took a second, adding twigs to the fire while he searched his mind for something innocuous to add. “It’s like me and my hypno training on languages—I don’t remember them all, all the time. It takes a trigger, a…a need, and then the right one comes up, like the High Chetal did on the day we met Rothan and Tia.”

  Sandy appeared to find the concept reasonable, saying, “Makes sense. And the harder I try to remember it, the less I’ll be able to recall.”

  “I think so, yes. Come to bed now and rest, even if you can’t sleep, okay?”

  A moment or two after he’d tucked her into her bedroll, he realized she was snoring. Reclining, he soon drifted into sleep again himself.

  In the morning, in the bright sunlight, all the talk of the ancient past seemed as if it belonged to another world. Jagrahim’s warriors prepared a quick breakfast of journeybread and salty dried fish.

  “May we see the crown just once, before you bear it away to Nakhtiaar?” Jagrahim made his request humbly as his men broke camp. “My people have been responsible for the city and its contents for so long, I should like to gaze upon Khunarum’s greatest possession.”

  “Of course. I should have thought to show you yesterday,” Rothan said in an apologetic tone. “My mind and my body were worn out from our endeavors in the sunken palace.”

  He pulled the box out of the pack it was stored in and opened the lid. The crown gleamed in the sun.

  Leaning over, Jagrahim peered at the small scroll. “What’s this?”

  “It was in Khunarum’s hand. Or, rather, the statue’s hand, and it seemed to me at the time we’d better take it along. Is there a problem?” Confused by his own spur-of-the-moment decision, Mark was defensive. Not being able to offer crisp reasoning for his action annoyed him.

  “No, of course not. You were there, not I. If the scroll wasn’t meant to go with the crown, you wouldn’t have it. May I see?” Jagrahim didn’t wait for permission but fished it out of the box and unrolled it.

  “Can you read it?” Sandy crowded close. “What does it say?”

  “Is it a message of some sort?” Rothan asked.

  Jagrahim held up a hand for silence. “This ancient script is hard to read. I need quiet to concentrate. Sallea, come translate this with me. You’re more proficient on this alphabet than any other reader.”

  His daughter strolled over, taking a quick glance. “It’s a list of some kind.”

  “Yes, that’s my conclusion as well,” her father agreed.

  “A list?” Disappointed because he’d been hoping for some message from beyond the grave, something dramatic, Mark silently chided himself for letting himself get lost in the myths.

  “Yes.” Sallea nodded. “Khunarum’s Artifacts, it says at the top, and then see here, it says Crown, Scepter, Sword, Goblet, Dagger, and so forth. About twenty items. The words opposite are family names, I believe.”

  “Some overzealous scribe worked overtime. Imagine sticking around to make a list like this when the whole city was shaking apart, falling on your head.” Mark vented his disappointment in the prosaic nature of the scroll by being sarcastic.

  Rothan plucked the scroll from Jagrahim’s hands, rolled it up, and handed it to Mark. “This is yours.”

  “Mine?” Mark had to juggle not to drop it in the sand.

  “You were moved to take it, and Khunarum allowed you to have it. Therefore, it’s yours.” The captain was matter-of-fact. He sealed the box and stowed it safely in the chariot.

  The Mikkonite drifted away, returning to their chores breaking camp.

  “I guess you have another souvenir.” Sandy laughed at him.

  “What do I do with it?”

  “Oh here, give the scroll to me. I’ll tuck it in my medical bag for safekeeping. Maybe we can frame it someday, proof we really were here once upon a time. It’s too unique to throw away.”

  “You want it, it’s yours. Gift from me to you.” Mark bowed. “I think we’d better mount up now. Looks like our friends are ready to get out of here.”

  “We should reach our trading post in midafternoon,” Jagrahim told them as they rode out of the sheltered cove. “And if we’re in luck, there’ll be a ship in port. I’m hoping for Captain Demari. He’s a Minolan, and I trust him above the others. He’ll get you to Nakhtiaar without asking too many questions.”

  “Demari is a scoundrel.” Sallea didn’t sound like an admirer of the seafarer.

  “He keeps his bargains, which is what matters here. And he’s an excellent seaman.”

  “How much trading do you do?” Mark guided his suddenly skittish horse past a clump of seaweed.

  “Not much. I prefer to keep a low profile. And the traders are never allowed beyond our small coastal enclave, so none gain the knowledge of where my villages lie. But there are certain things we can’t grow or make for ourselves. It’s also wise to have at least limited contact with the rest of the world, to hear the news.”

  “The legend says the first trading ship was driven ashore in our cove when the city of Khunarum was destroyed,” Sallea said. “Our people helped rebuild the ship after signing a treaty between the Mikkonite and the captain to maintain the relationship. And so it has gone, through the ages to now.”

  “Yes, and the first trader captain married a daughter of our people.” Jagrahim winked.

  “Well, I wouldn’t marry a seaman. I’ve no desire to go onto the ocean on a tiny ship. The treaty will have to survive without such a sacrifice on my part.” Hand on her hip, Sallea fumed, indignant. “I’ll take a husband from our own people when I’m good and ready.”

  “Any danger of the trading relationships breaking down?” As he asked the follow-up question, Mark realized he’d automatically shifted into data-gathering mode. Collecting hard intel was good, familiar, far removed from mystical artifacts and strange messages from long-dead kings.

  Jagrahim frowned. “Sometimes the ships don’t come on schedule. Certain captains no longer make landfall, and no one has heard of them. More are missing than the storms and reefs of the ocean usually account for in a given time.”

  “Any idea what’s going on?”

  The chief shook his head. “Rumors, no more. The men of Maiskhan are known to seek extension of their influence to those who sail freely on the oceans.”

  Rothan spat. “They’re greedy, and their god is evil. I’ve no trouble believing Maiskhan seeks dominion over those who have freedom of the seas. I can’t believe Farahna invites them into the heart of our land. How can she be so foolhardy? So stupid?”

  “Hutenen will set it all right.” Tia’s sunny smile showed how unconcerned she felt. “As soon as we bring him the crown and Lady Sandy cures him of the poison.”

  Mark and Sandy exchanged glances but said nothing. The longer this expedition went on, the more Mark wondered if Hutenen remained alive to take possession of the crown. How long would a despotic usurper queen wait to kill her rival? But Tia and Rothan seemed confident, so they must have known something he didn’t about the situation. Perhaps Farahna had other plans for Hutenen than a convoluted assassination.

  Jagrahim spoke up. “And the completion of my task is to get you there. See, there’s a ship waiting.” He pointed down the coast, where Mark saw a mast extending above the headland. “No more talk, we need to ride hard, lest the captain set sail before we arrive.”

  When Mark rounded the headland a short time later, he found a large ship at anchor in the cove. Five Mikkonite and three or four sailors were taking a meal break beside a fire, ris
ing as the newcomers arrived in a flurry of sand.

  Jagrahim got his wish about which free trader would be in port. Mark liked Demari once introductions had been made and the bargaining commenced. The seaman had an easygoing manner and didn’t ask too many questions.

  “I don’t carry passengers as a rule.” Stroking his short beard, Demari wore the air of a man considering his options. “Cargo has less risk and fewer complications in this unsettled time.”

  “We can pay well for the passage,” Rothan told him impatiently. “We must get to the city as soon as possible.”

  Demari took a moment to eye Rothan as if assessing his potential as an adversary. He yelled some instruction to his first mate about the loading of the cargo, and then reopened the subject of their passage with him. “It’ll be rough for the women, but they can share my second cabin. Cramped quarters.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Sandy apparently had no doubts. Tia nodded but without conviction. She glanced at the Lady Dawn, rolling from side to side in the waves even in the sheltered cove. Apprehension was plain in the tense set of the Nakhtiaar noblewoman’s shoulders.

  “How long is the journey?” Mark asked.

  “If the sea god favors us and the winds blow well, a week, maybe two. First, we sail out to the open sea to avoid the reefs, set a course westward along the coast, and navigate into the mouth of the river.”

  “So long?” Hands on his hips, mouth a thin line, Rothan looked to the sky as if hoping the gods would deliver a better alternative.

  “Better than trying to go overland again, what with the sandstorms,” Mark answered. “This stacks up as our best bet.”

  Some spirited negotiation followed over the price. A quantity of the gold coins changed hands, and the matter was settled.

  “You can go out to the ship in the next boat, then, my lords, ladies.” Demari shook hands with Rothan and then with Mark. Excusing himself, he strode down the beach to direct his crew.

  “We’ll stay to see you off,” Jagrahim told them.

  “We couldn’t have completed our quest without your help, sir,” Rothan said. “I’m grateful, and my prince will be as well.”

  “You had the right to request our assistance, my lord.” Jagrahim hesitated for a moment. “My people owe you allegiance because you hold the crown.”

  Rothan made a gesture as if waving the remark away. “I took the crown for my prince, for Hutenen, not for myself.”

  “Nonetheless, I’m honor bound to place my tribe and myself at your service. Should you ever have need of our assistance in any way, you have but to send a summons. Mikkon will answer, this I swear by our gods.”

  “Thank you. And the reverse is true,” Rothan said. “Can we ever be of assistance to you—”

  “We’ll send word.” Jagrahim bowed. “There’s another matter.” He glanced at Sallea. “I wish to send my daughter with you, as my ambassador. The recent events you’ve shared with us tell me we lack sufficient involvement in the affairs of the wider world. Your people are so ignorant of mine, of what conditions are here in this area. And for my part, I want to know what transpires with your prince, with the Maiskhan. Sallea can send Lakht to me periodically with word. It would be good for her to spend time at a royal court, see how others live in different fashion. Then she can return to me in a few months’ time, when matters are settled in Nakhtiaar.”

  “It would be my honor,” Sallea said as she became the center of attention.

  “I’ll personally guarantee your safe passage as an ambassador,” Rothan said.

  “The matter is settled then.” Jagrahim bowed again. He and Sallea stepped aside for some private conversation.

  Mark only overheard the beginning of the chat as father and daughter moved out of earshot. “And if reinforcements are needed…”

  He wasn’t surprised the desert chieftain had the same kind of qualms he did about whether the would-be Queen Farahna and her Maiskhan allies could be removed from power so simply.

  About an hour later, with all cargo stowed and passengers aboard, the Lady Dawn raised her stone anchor and hoisted sail. Mark stood at the rail and watched the land grow smaller and smaller in their wake.

  Sandy joined him. “You may have suffered from Lajollae’s Travel, but I have to say, Tia isn’t a good candidate for this kind of journey. She’s been vomiting already, and we’ve hardly left the harbor, much less hit the deep-water swells.”

  “I never sailed on water before. Only in space.” Mark stared at the billowing sails and then across the blue-green waves. “I like it.”

  The princess leaned on the rail. “Grandmother has a fleet of pleasure boats on Throne, on Lake Baikum, so I’ve sailed. I’ve never been on an ocean before. The waves are imposing. Makes me wish the boat had power, not just sails and oars.”

  “Sailing agrees with you.” Mark studied her rosy-cheeked face with pleasure. “Do you have something you can give Tia?”

  “Well, she’s pregnant, which makes things worse in the nausea department. Limits what I can prescribe too, but I have an inject or two. Captain Demari said his cook can make special soup for her as well.”

  Mark watched a pod of sleek gray marine dwellers pacing the ship, cutting in and out of the jade-green waves as if at play with the Lady Dawn. “Jagrahim’s worried about the situation with Farahna, the same way I am. I overheard him talking to Sallea before we left. I wish Rothan wasn’t putting so much stock in this crown to work magic. And in his prince, who’s an unknown quantity to us. I have confidence in Rothan, but I’ve yet to meet the other guy.”

  “Want to know what I think?” Sandy said.

  “What?”

  “I think Rothan and Tia were so desperate there was nothing else left to try, especially when the queen hatched her plan for Tia to be married off against her will.” Sandy gave him a sideways glance. “When you’re out of options—sensible options—you give up or you go for the farfetched hope.”

  “Like taking Lajollae’s offer to send us somewhere else?” Mark grinned.

  “Exactly.” Sandy stared out to sea, where a vee of birds flew against the cloudless sky. “So far, by throwing our lot in with Rothan and Tia, we’ve apparently fallen into a similar situation to the one we were escaping. Only Lajollae isn’t coming to our rescue this time.”

  Disturbed by the dryness of her tone, he eyed her. “You’re not going to reopen the argument about staying at the oasis, are you?”

  Leaning on the rail, she said, “It’s too late to regret the decision or reconsider. There are inevitable consequences to choosing sides, however.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I’m just saying I don’t think it’s a good idea to march into the city tomorrow morning after weeks away without knowing the current state,” Mark argued. “Captain Demari said he’s seeing much more Maiskhan presence in the harbor than even a month ago.”

  “True.” Rothan frowned, his voice tense. “I’m impatient to get the crown to Hutenen. The stewardship of such a powerful relic weighs heavily on me. Nothing must happen to it before I can deliver the box to the prince.”

  Mark gazed toward the quiet shoreline, where torches and oil lamps flickered in the capital city. He didn’t have a good feeling about the situation. “But you and Tia are fugitives from Farahna, remember? You can’t go openly to find your prince in her palace. There’ll be people who’d recognize you.”

  “True again. What do you suggest?”

  “Let Djed and me go into the city tonight, see what we can find out, do a quick recon.”

  “Mark—” Sandy’s voice rose in immediate protest.

  “Recon missions behind enemy lines to scope out the lay of the land are what I do. Or did. The Sectors spent a lot of credits training me to be outstanding at secret operations. With Djed as my local guide, it’ll be simple.” Mark took her hand. “We have to know. We can’t go in there blind.”

  “I can send Lakht to view the city and the palace from the air,” Sallea said. “Report on troop m
ovements.”

  “Good idea.” Mark rubbed his hands together. “But we need boots on the ground to gather detailed intel.”

  “You don’t look like a citizen of Nakhtiaar, my lord,” Djed said, his first comment in the hasty strategy session being held on the Lady Dawn’s stern.

  “True enough, but I can pass for a foreign sailor, especially if I wear a head covering.”

  “I’ll lend you the small rowboat,” Captain Demari said. “I advise you to be back aboard by dawn.”

  “You think this is a good idea?” Rothan asked him.

  The Lady Dawn’s captain leaned against the railing of his ship. “Always better to know what you’re sailing into, my lords.”

  “It’s settled then,” Mark declared. Rothan made no further protest.

  Mark and Djed climbed down the netting into the dinghy shortly thereafter. They rowed to shore, beaching their craft alongside other small boats to the side of the main docks. The two men sauntered to the waterfront district, where the taverns were brightly lit and loud voices could be heard.

  “Best if you don’t talk much,” Djed said apologetically as the two hiked an uneven street toward the closest tavern. ”Your accent is still strange.”

  “Fine. We don’t want to attract attention. Our job is to find out as much as we can about the situation in the city and the palace.”

  Mark walked into the Blue Cobra behind Djed, blinking as the smoky air in the crowded inn hit his eyes and lungs. Djed led Mark to the bar and demanded two mugs of ale, throwing down some Minolan coins. The archer worked his way through the crowd of sailors and soldiers and took a table toward the rear of the low-ceilinged room. Satisfied with the arrangement, Mark sat with his back to the wall, sipping his beer, which had a surprising kick to it.

  Two girls were dancing halfheartedly, barely in sync with the music. Some sailors at two tables were making ribald comments. A ragtag group of Nakhtiaar soldiers sat at another set of benches nearby. Mark homed in on the conversation, while appearing to be enthralled by the charms of the dancers.