Storms of Destiny

by A. C. Crispin

  “That’s good,” Jezzil said. “In my country it’s different.

  Little boys live with their mothers, shut off from the rest of the household except for meals and religious observances.

  Later, when I was older, I was with the men, and hardly ever saw my mother or sisters. Then I left my family when I was seven, to become a warrior apprentice.”

  Jezzil sighed, remembering the day he’d left home, how he’d caught a glimpse of his mother at the upstairs window, peering out from behind the curtain. “Later, I was chosen out of a hundred boys to try out for the Pen Jav Dal, the Order of the Silent Ones. It’s hard now to remember my family.

  I haven’t seen them in more than ten years.”

  “The soldiers of the Redai aren’t granted leave from duty?”

  “Regular troops, yes. But not the Pen Jav Dal. We’re priests as well as warriors, and we are supposed to remain cloistered, no contact with the outside world except when on duty, and no contact at all with women.”

  Eregard grimaced. “What a price to pay for being one of the elite! Women are one of nature’s greatest blessings …

  some women, at least.”

  “So I have been learning,” Jezzil muttered. “But I still practice my religion. For me to even befriend Thia and Talis was …” He hesitated. “Well, it wasn’t something I’d ever expected to happen.”

  “You know what they say. ‘Expect the unexpected.’ ”

  The Chonao smiled wryly. “I suppose so. Do you … do you think Thia loves you?”

  “I don’t know. I think she cares for me. I suppose I’ll find out.”

  He sounds confident, Jezzil thought sourly. But why shouldn’t he be? He’s a prince.

  “When do you plan to ask her?”

  Eregard thought for a moment. “Tomorrow. When the fog is gone and the harbor of Minoma lies before us. It’s a beautiful city, built on a mountainside. The palace is built of pale gray stone, with black granite pillars. The roofs are red tiles.”

  He sighed happily. “There’s a huge fortress wall runs around the Old City and the palace. The New City spills out down the hillside, all the way to cliffs that lead down to the harbor.

  The houses are pink and white and pale green stucco.”

  Jezzil nodded. “It sounds beautiful.”

  “Oh, it is. It’s almost summer; there will be flowering trees and bushes everywhere. Little cafés with tables outside on stone patios. Colorful awnings, and everywhere the smell of the flowers …” He smiled. “I’ve missed it so much.”

  “Naturally,” Jezzil said.

  “Tomorrow,” Eregard said, staring off into the fog, still with that faraway expression. “Tomorrow I’ll ask her. After the fog lifts.”

  The fog did indeed lift shortly after sunrise, revealing blue skies with a few puffy white clouds, a blue-green ocean— —and seven small but heavily armed Meptalith vessels surrounding The Pride of Pela.

  It was Thia who first saw them. Trained from childhood to rise each day before sunrise, she awoke early, as usual.

  Dressing quietly, she slipped out of the small cabin and went up on deck, hugging her shawl around her as she strolled back and forth, watching the eastern horizon. As the Sun rose and the ships materialized out of the fleeing darkness, she cried out to a passing sailor, pointing. Thia didn’t recognize the ships, but the fact that they were surrounded indicated unfriendly intentions.

  Her fears were quickly confirmed. The sailor she’d summoned took one look, swore, then went racing away, yelling.

  Within moments the deck resounded with the pounding of feet and the shouts of seamen and officers.

  Thia huddled against Falar’s stall, trying to stay out of the way. I have to warn the others, she realized, and carefully made her way to the narrow ladder that led below. First she entered the tiny cabin she and Talis shared and shook the Katan woman awake. “Wake up! The ship is surrounded!”

  Talis’s green eyes opened, then she sat up, cursing as fluently as any of the sailors. “I knew it was too good to be true!” As Thia left, she was yanking on her clothes.

  Next she darted into the cabin where Khith, Eregard, and Jezzil slept in their hammocks. “Wake up!” she gasped.

  “Come on, wake up! There are ships out there. I counted seven, and they’re all around us.”

  Jezzil swung out of his hammock in one fluid motion and stood there, bare-chested and clad only in his drawers. Thia glanced away, feeling her face grow hot. She’d never seen so much male flesh in her life.

  Eregard raised himself on his elbow, eyeing her blearily.

  “Wha … ? What?”

  “Ships!” she said. “Hurry, get dressed! We’re surrounded by ships!”

  Eregard snarled a word in Pelanese that Thia didn’t recognize, and slumped back into his hammock. “Goddess,” he added. “Not again!”

  Thia whirled and raced out of the cabin, then up the ladder and back onto the deck. The sun had lifted past the lowlying clouds now, and the ships surrounding them were all too clear. One of them had broken the ring and was under sail, approaching The Pride of Pela.

  As the ship drew nearer, she could make out a man in armor standing in the bow, the wind of the passage blowing his long black hair out behind him.

  Moments later Talis joined her at the railing. “Are we going to fight?” Thia asked.

  “I doubt it,” Talis said. “The Pride is outgunned and surrounded.”

  Khith came up to join them. The little Hthras was shivering in the early morning air, despite the protection of its wool robe. “That man …” The doctor pointed at the black-haired man Thia had noticed. “He is …”

  When the Hthras hesitated, Thia asked, “He is what, Master Khith?”

  The Hthras shook its softly furred head, its huge eyes holding apprehension and sadness. “He is … important to us in some way. Now, and in the future. If I but had the time, I could scry out what he means, but—”

  “Of course he’s important to us,” Talis said. “He’s the Chonao leader of this fleet. I wonder if he’s the Redai himself?”

  “No, he’s not.” Jezzil’s voice came from behind them. They turned to see him shading his eyes against the eastern light.

  “Kerezau has much lighter hair. And he always wears a battle helm with a scarlet plume, so the troops can recognize him.”

  Thia watched as the Meptalith vessel drew closer, Jezzil standing beside her. As the boat approached and she leaned against him, she felt the muscles in his arm grow rock-hard.

  Looking up at him, she saw his green gaze fixed on the boat and the man standing in the prow.

  When the boat was within earshot, they heard the leader demanding that the Pride surrender. Captain Garano replied that they would surrender without a fight as long as passengers and crew were taken to within sight of Pela and allowed to leave the ship in the lifeboats, unmolested.

  The leader gave his assent, then ordered them to drop a boarding ladder.

  Moments later a contingent of Chonao soldiers had swarmed aboard, then stood, swords in hand, as their leader made a more leisurely, dignified assent.

  When the man with the long black hair finally stepped onto the deck, Thia realized that Jezzil was so tense he was

  nearly trembling. He was muttering under his breath, and she couldn’t tell whether he was cursing or praying.

  Then, before she could move or speak, Jezzil lunged forward, nearly babbling in his own language. Thia heard what she thought was a name. Barus? Jezzil lunged at him, arms out, obviously ready to embrace him.

  When the man he called Barus did not move, or speak, or smile, Jezzil slowed, then halted, obviously confused and hurt. He spoke again, using that same name, Barus, but this time he seemed to be asking a question.

  Barus—if that was indeed his name—abruptly smiled, his teeth flashing, and raised both arms. Jezzil let out an exultant sound, half sob, half laugh, and went to embrace him.

  Without warning Barus’s armored fist flashed forwa
rd like a striking snake, to smash into Jezzil’s face with an audible crack. Jezzil staggered back, blood erupting from his nose, eyes wide with shock. He crumpled to the deck and lay still, unmoving save for the blood trickling down.

  Barus looked down at him again, and the wide smile had turned cruel and mocking. He raised his foot, then kicked Jezzil viciously in the side.

  “No! Stop that!” Thia made no conscious decision, was barely aware that she had bolted toward the motionless pair—until Talis and Eregard grabbed her and restrained her.

  “Thia! No!” Eregard ordered. “You can’t help him!”

  Barus turned to look at them and smiled slightly. “That’s right, you can’t,” he said in accented Pelanese. “How interesting to discover that my former friend has new comrades.”

  He smiled. “Two women, eh? You are his concubines?”

  Talis muttered an oath. This time she was the one who had to be restrained.

  Barus laughed, obviously enjoying their distress. He issued orders to his men, and several of them scattered to begin tying up the captain and his officers. He gestured to Jezzil, who was beginning to stir, and gave orders. With a sideways glance at the onlookers, he translated them. “You two, pick up this cowardly sack of pig guts and confine him to an empty hold. Post a guard.”

  The men saluted and sprang to do his bidding.

  Thia turned a despairing glance at Talis, who was standing with eyes narrowed, obviously considering and then discard-ing possible actions. She turned to see Khith regarding Jezzil with distress as one of the Chonao tossed a bucket of saltwa-ter into his face. Jezzil’s eyes opened and he choked, gasped, then moaned as the others hauled him to his feet. His knees buckled. Thia mouthed, “Help him! We have to help him!”

  Khith shook its head ever so slightly and whispered, barely above a breath, “Later.”

  As the guards dragged Jezzil away, Barus turned to another of his men and gave rapid orders in his native tongue.

  “What did you tell them?” Thia blurted helplessly.

  Barus turned to translate again, smiling broadly. “I told them to go to the flagship and tell the Redai we have captured a traitor. As soon as he arrives to sign the order for execution, I’ll have the distinct pleasure of hanging my old friend.” He pointed upward. “From that yardarm.”

  Blood Magic

  “Hang him?” Talis blurted, “for what?”

  Barus regarded her as though she were some new and not very interesting variety of insect. “Desertion, for one thing.

  And probably treason.” He glanced at another of his guards.

  “These people who were traveling with Jezzil, escort them belowships and lock them in a cabin. I’ll let the Redai deal with him when he arrives.”

  As the guard moved toward them, Talis stepped hurriedly to the fore. “Wait!” She fumbled for the leather packet she carried beneath her tunic. “My name is Talis Aloro, and I’m the Special Envoy from Kata to the Redai.” Hastily, she pulled out a paper, checked that it was the correct one, and handed it to him. “This is my authorization.”

  Barus scanned the paper. Talis wondered briefly whether the Chonao could read Pelanese script, while thanking the Goddess above that Castio had supplied her with two sets of papers—one for King Agivir, the other for the Redai, in the event their ship was captured.

  Finally the Chonao leader looked up. “And who are these others?” He fixed his dark gaze on Khith. “And what is that?

  A Hthras?” He studied the physician. “Never saw one before. Not a live one, anyway. My father had a stuffed one mounted on his wall.”

  Talis glanced at Khith, willing the doctor to remain quiet.

  The huge eyes remained fixed on Barus, but the Hthras said not a word.

  “Yes, Dr. Khith is traveling as my personal physician,”

  Talis said, thinking fast, “and Eregard here is my slave. Thia is my maid.”

  He gave her a long, raking stare, his gaze traveling up her body from her men’s riding boots, to her buckskin breeches, to her man’s shirt and jerkin, ending finally at her hair— hastily braided, hairpins sticking out of her bun. The Chonao smiled mockingly. “If she’s your lady’s maid, you need to dismiss her, Mistress Aloro.”

  Talis felt an angry flush warming her face, but she forced her voice to be steady, neutral. “I ask that my entourage be accorded the same courtesy you accord me.”

  He laughed. “You travel in bad company, Mistress Aloro.

  And this,” he waved Castio’s document at her, “says nothing about anyone but you. In deference to our alliance with your leader, I shall not confine you with the others. You may keep your freedom aboard ship, but the Redai will want to question you, of that I am sure.” He turned to the others and gestured. “Take them away, lock them in one of the small cabins. See that they come to no harm. Post a guard.”

  The soldier he addressed snapped to attention, responded in their own language, and obeyed. Talis watched as her comrades were marched off, disappearing belowdecks.

  Barus turned away from her to direct his men. Talis was left standing on the deck. What now? she wondered forlornly.

  She took a turn around the deck, careful to keep away from the Chonao soldiers. I have to do something! Why did this have to happen, just when we were almost to Pela?

  She wound up beside Falar’s stall, then slid down to sit with her back against the boards. The mare, scenting a familiar presence, came over to snuffle at her hair. Idly, Talis stroked her questing nose. “What am I going to do, girl?”

  she muttered. “We’re all in a pretty mess, and I have to do something!”

  What would Jezzil do? What would Rufen do?

  She swallowed, then sat up straight, glancing around. Nobody was paying her any attention. The Chonao warriors were swarming all over the ship, and some of the Meptalith vessels had set sail and were heading away. We’re captured, they don’t need all the vessels, she realized. They’re heading for Pela, carrying troops. How many troops?

  There was no way to know. She watched between the slats of the stall as Barus scribbled a message on a tiny scrap of parchment and bound it to the leg of a messenger bird. The bird went up in a blur of wings, circled once, then headed west.

  The morning was now well advanced, and a rumble in her stomach reminded Talis that she hadn’t eaten since last night. Searching in the pocket of her jerkin, she found a few scraps of dried fruit and chewed them, hoping they would give her energy, clear her mind.

  He said the Redai was coming. Kerezau himself.

  She stopped chewing as her answer presented itself, then nearly choked when she tried to swallow. Despite the fruit, her mouth had gone utterly dry.

  I have to kill him.

  Kill the leader of the world’s most formidable army?

  Could she? Could she even get close enough? How to do it?

  He’ll be surrounded by bodyguards, warriors trained the way Jezzil is trained. Expert swordsmen and assassins …

  And yet, Barus had said the Redai would see her. And she knew from Jezzil that there were no warrior women among his people. Kerezau might not be suspecting a female assassin.

  I’ll wear a dress, she thought. But still, they’ll search me.

  There’s no place to hide a pistol, sword, or knife. How can I get close enough to him with a weapon?

  Falar nuzzled her hair again, the mare’s hot breath gusting down the back of her shirt. Talis reached up absently to pat the horse, and her questing fingers brushed one of her hairpins.

  She pulled it out and sat staring at it intently. It was longer than her forefinger, made of steel, and quite sturdy. But it was blunt, not pointed. But if I sharpened it, it would be long enough to stab out an eyeball and enter the brain, or pierce the carotid, or the jugular.

  Talis looked around again, then casually tucked the hairpin into the pocket of her jerkin. There was bound to be a whetstone down in the galley, and the cook had smiled at her each morning when serving breakfast. He’d be thr
illed if she wandered into his galley for a little chat.

  Whether I succeed or not, my life will be forfeit, she realized. Can I do it? Knowing I’ll die? She shivered, though the sun and the breeze were warm. Suddenly the taste of the dried fruit seemed cloying, and she swallowed fiercely. She would not vomit!

  If Castio were here in my place, what would he do?

  She knew. Rufen Castio would do what he had to do in order to save his country from a ruthless conqueror. She remembered the way Clo had charged into battle. Surely she had known she might die.

  Talis grimaced. There was a world of difference between “might” and “would.”

  But she couldn’t overlook this opportunity. The chance to kill Kerezau had been given to her, and to her alone. She had to act.

  Jezzil had taught her some of his warrior philosophy, and she remembered one of his warrior’s credos: Better a dead target than a live assassin.

  Talis got up and walked over to the railing, staring out to sea. Her father and mother would probably never know what happened to her. Her brothers would miss her, all right, because they’d have to do her work. But that would be the only thing they’d miss, she concluded cynically. And if she died, she lost all chance at revenge on her uncle Jasti.

  For a moment a wave of the old panic swept over her, but, teeth gritted, she forced it back. Making Uncle Jasti suffer and die was the least of her problems at the moment. If the old demon lived to rape other maidens, there was nothing she could do about it. Killing Kerezau would save hundreds,

  possibly thousands, of Katans, not to mention her kinsmen, the Pelanese.

  Thinking about Jezzil made her remember another thing he’d said. Even a casual scratch could be made fatal. Jezzil himself no longer had access to his assassin’s supplies, but what about Master Khith? Surely the doctor had potions that could harm as well as heal?