by Russ Linton
She'd bleed him if she had to. She hoped it wouldn't come to that.
The Attarah made a calculated sweep of the two. "Then enlighten me with your newly acquired wisdom, apprentice." He gestured toward the sea. "You claim to see land while your teacher describes a storm. Tell me, what exactly darkens our skies?"
She headed to the railing and when her eyes fell on the mountains she let the invisible pull of mystery guide her words. "I see an unexplored land from a place of deep time and legend, Attarah. Peaks only the gods have crossed and your namesake traversed while he fled from Kurath. A place of reverence for the Mutri and the Jadugar alike." She tore herself from the image and found both men watching. "I see the Pamanites returned from beyond an endless sea."
It took a moment, but the expressions of the two rivals melded into one as they doubled over laughing, grasping at each other's forearms. "Pamanites? Truly?" gasped Chakor.
She pursed her lips and ran her tongue across her teeth to avoid letting any hasty words escape. Kaaliya examined the mountains once more. The flying fucking mountains.
Laughter began to subside, and the Attarah spoke. "And this is what I should tell a room full of nobles? The talking mountains of children's tales have arrived?"
"Yes," insisted Kaaliya.
"My dear Courtesan, Jadugar's apprentice, you reveal too much of your common roots." She froze, hoping she hadn't given away her past. Charlatan and whore she could work with but Pit dweller? That could end her plans before they'd begun. "The Attarah, Vasheru, these are the gods to those in the room beyond. And even that allegiance is questionable."
"Then allow me to offer proof," she said.
"Oh?" asked the Attarah. "And how would you do this?"
That was the question she'd been waiting to answer. "I would sail there, under your charge."
He waved dismissively. "You'll never find a willing crew. Besides, if I wished it, I could send my own expedition."
"I already have a boat. A crew of willing souls. Anything I find will be declared for your glory. The people will have their fears assuaged—their mighty Attarah has taken action, an action advised by his Jadugar." The ruler's hands clasped and he rubbed them together, thinking. "If I uncover the truth, it will be yours to deliver. I fail?" Her eyes went to Chakor. "Well, your Jadugar obviously provided incompetent advice."
A reply on his lips, the Attarah swiveled on a heel and began to pace. Chakor took the opportunity to pierce her with a deadly stare. Kaaliya wagged her bejeweled finger at him and mouthed a single word he'd said to her less than a day ago in the forge: everything.
He blanched. The Attarah whirled to face them.
"And what will you ask of the noble houses? Of me?"
"Provisions. My pick of the crew." She made the ring plain to them both. "And when I return, the Jadugar's title."
Intrigued, he scrunched his eyes and regarded Chakor. "What are you up to?"
The playful noble had been rendered speechless. A thousand ways to thwart her plotting likely churned inside his mind. More experienced with courtly intrigue, Chakor had a decisive advantage. As a man, all it might take would be for him to dismiss her. Laugh away her ambition and ask for her to be escorted to the solar so she could entertain the ladies of the court with her spontaneous little adventure.
Then she'd have to strike. She'd need to make good on her threat of exposing his lies and rely on the Attarah's desire to see Lord Chakor taken down a peg. Maintaining her own hand then would be tricky. She could do it. But did she really want to?
Kaaliya realized she was counting on one thing and one thing alone: Chakor truly meant what he'd said to her in the Kolime.
"I have no designs, Attarah. These are the plans of my eager and overly zealous apprentice." A corner of his mouth turned upward. "I can't say I disapprove."
"Why is it I shouldn't simply send you, Jadugar?" The canny ruler had found an interesting wrinkle in her plan.
Kaaliya swept in front of Chakor while he sputtered for an answer. "And leave Stronghold undefended? Your own Stormpriest, Gohala, is on pilgrimage with the majority of the Temple. Superstitions or not, the Jadugar is the one who holds the secrets of the city's defense. If the worst were to happen, then you'd face the blame."
The Attarah crossed his arms and stared at her, hard, for the first time. She felt certain he would find another objection but instead he focused again on Chakor.
"Very well. This expedition has been formed on your advice, Jadugar. Advice I have considered but have reservations about. As for you." He inclined his head toward Kaaliya. "Run the expedition if you feel you have the mettle. However, you will not be recognized before me until you return and no one, absolutely no one, is to know a mere courtesan is in charge."
"Apprentice," added Chakor.
"Please." The Attarah spat. "She'll need to prove herself first. When this plan fails, if I am to save face, it can't appear completely doomed from the start."
It surprised her the Attarah's lack of confidence didn't spark her normal fury. Yet nowhere in her scheming had she required being carried to the ship on a palanquin surrounded by festival and ceremony. For the moment, exploring the mysteries of the past would be enough.
"Done," she said. "However I want your assurances you will recognize my title as Jadugar when I return."
The Attarah considered her. "If. If you return, you have my word."
Imperious again, the Ruler of Men didn't wait for further discussion. He walked briskly toward the panel, clapped his hands without breaking stride, and the servants slid it open. Conversations within died and the nobility of Stronghold regarded the balcony.
While the Attarah announced his proclamation, Kaaliya launched into a hushed conversation with Chakor.
"You will support me in this?"
"Do I have a choice?" He'd found his gambler's stare once more and became unreadable.
"No, not really. I'm simply collecting on a debt you made." His flat expression began to work its way under her skin. "I wouldn't have thought of this had you not offered."
"What I offered was an apprenticeship."
"An apprentice always seeks to become a Master." She argued as his eyebrows inched upward. "Fine, not so quickly perhaps. However, I believe both men and women were Jadugars in the past, like the murals in your audience chamber."
His empty look crumbled and he smiled. "I never should have let you open those doors."
"You did. Wide open."
"I could send Ramos. I pay him for this sort of dangerous nonsense."
"You will send your damn apprentice, and be happy about it."
"You're more trouble than you're worth." He smiled and started to touch her chin but remembering the open panel and the buzzing crowd, withdrew his hand. "Can I at least keep the room with the plumbing?"
"I don't want your damn riches," she said. "I'm more than capable of gathering those for myself. I just want…" In the moment, she couldn't name it. Respect? She'd let the Attarah trounce on that with his declaration about her hidden role. Power? Men held power but only they believed in the infallibility of their own grasp. "I want to see everything."
"When will you stop running?" asked Chakor, his smile a faint reminder.
"What?"
"Whatever it is you are running from. When will you stop and be content?"
A slight bow and Chakor left her, wandering into the fray of nobles, not slowing to recognize them as a light applause greeted his entrance. She mulled over his words, the insight of a notoriously shallow man, but one who knew her all too well.
CHAPTER XXII
Eyes down, hat low and her bag slung over her shoulder, a person couldn't tell much about Kaaliya from a distance. She had perfected the look on her travels. Her hair tucked under her hat, wearing a baggy shirt and a borrowed pair of pants, she blended well with the men roaming the docks.
It was all in the walk. She moved with a confident saunter, hips straight, firmly planting the heels of her feet. Of course, the g
ray darkness before dawn helped complete her ruse. She had considered flaunting the Attarah's demands and boarding the ship in her orange sari, scorching the docks with controversy. From what she saw, it hardly would have been worth the trouble.
His announcement of the expedition had launched another celebration in this festival season. Only a handful of the completely sodden nobility had come to see them off. The Attarah and the nobles waited impatiently, blearily, their palanquins never lowered but kept at the ready. Their hastily erected platform had been strewn with flower petals and garlands then dusted with incense to ward off the smell of work and hard labor.
No dramatic scene could be made in such sparse company. It was a shame. She'd held up her end of the bargain, to the letter. She'd avoided revealing her hand in things, but the lack of excitement creasing the Attarah's brow as he took in the ship and crew overrode any guilt she might have had over that one concession.
The Night Cutter was a three-masted junk. She approached aft under the watchful eyes of Vasheru's roaring face emblazoned on the stern. The Dragon's hinged mouth provided an open void for the rudder which lolled in the space like a bloated tongue. Vasheru's serpent body ran the entire length of the hull, silver on black dotted with the constellations of the night sky. Lines for two stone anchors hung from the flared fore where the Mighty Dragon's tail continued into an embellishment of the bow.
She would go ass-first into the dawn, the Dragon's stones jangling.
Captain Baladeva had his eccentricities. A successful merchant, he'd spent every silver horn on his ship. It was garish, even vulgar, for such an expedition. Then there was the crew. She hadn't shared her plans there, either.
As suspected, many of Baladeva's previously hired hands had been unwilling to sail into the sun. So Kaaliya boarded behind a line of Ek'kiru. Talemok, already on deck, nodded as she approached the ramp. Firetongue was there as well.
Often Ek'kiru proved their willingness to work in jobs outside the palace before being selected by the nobility. Sailing the waterways of the platform city was a common starting point. Once Talemok had identified those able and willing, Kaaliya had little trouble getting Chakor to convince the nobles to release a few servants. They'd been happy enough not to be asked to go themselves.
Chakor would've enjoyed seeing the results. He'd hear about it, no doubt, when he woke. She'd purposefully given him plenty of reasons to sleep well past dawn though the sura might've ensured that anyway.
Before long, they were all assembled on the canopied lower deck facing the split level stern. Her and two drunks, former crew who had been too fermented to leave when given the chance, plus a man she didn't recognize, were the only humans.
The sober one was well-built and wielded a wooden baton worn smooth and dented with use. He regarded this new crew not with the Attarah's practiced and restrained annoyance but with a curled lip and narrow eyes.
Captain Baladeva emerged from his cabin. He waved the crew to either side, a scourge wound tightly in his hand. Scar tissue from an old wound webbed the right side of his face. His beard was closely cropped and though hair grew in patches on the scarred side, he'd expertly filled in the gaps with kohl.
Baladeva spotted her and winked. The first mate followed the interaction with a cold stare. She'd asked the captain to wait to acknowledge her until they were out to sea. That seemed to not matter now, but her old friend was enjoying his moment of splendor. She didn't want to eclipse him.
He'd decked himself in the most ostentatious finery. A charcoal sherwani with silver thread and cuffs of ivory to match the Night Cutter. Back straight, he strutted in plain view of the Attarah's platform on the pier.
"Today we set sail for the edge of the world," he called. "We sail into mystery. We sail into heroic realms where none have tread since the days of our first Attarah. Where death and life are not so very different. Live or die, you're heroes now! For the glory of the Attarah!"
As the crew mimicked his call, he responded by cracking the scourge against the rail. "You'd better be heard at the palace, or I'll post your heads in the gardens when we return!"
A little much, but Baladeva had a flair for drama. The crew replied obediently louder. Some of the Ek'kiru wriggled their antennae in excitement.
On the pier, she could see the Attarah's chest heave. Jaw clamped, the savior of mankind headed for the palanquins and his entourage followed.
"Come forward if you know your way around a ship," Baladeva barked through the side of his mouth. "We'll need…men," he decided as he scanned the chitin and flesh, "of mettle. Of bravery. Of unparalleled daring!"
Nearly all stepped forward, though the more sober of the humans had to drag his comrade into the line. Talemok had done well in finding fellow Ek'kiru with experience.
"Grab the nearest man who didn't come forward and make sure they see what you're doing."
The drunks followed orders like it was part of their daily sobering ritual. The bulk of the Ek'kiru moved with curious, stilted motions, then with purpose. Talemok had already gathered several of his kind and begun to head aft. An exchange of words with the captain and they ascended to the rudder shaft on the upper deck.
"Get moving," Captain Baladeva shouted, letting the scourge drag as he paced. "We're to be on the seas before the sun rises. For the glory of the Attarah!" He sounded the veneration loud enough for the parting royalty to hear.
"For the glory of the Attarah!" Kaaliya shouted along with the crew.
With the Ek'kiru all falling into tasks without a spoken word, the rod-wielding first mate was left to wander the deck, disappointed. Kaaliya was on her way to speak to Baladeva when Firetongue approached.
"He's as blind as a bat," said the Ek'kiru matron.
"Who?"
Kaaliya followed the sweep of Firetongue's head. The first mate caught her glance and glared. Baladeva remained lost in the wake of the departing royalty and Kaaliya waved to get his attention. The motion seemed to infuriate the first mate, and he spit then stalked toward them.
"What do you require, my lord," replied Firetongue.
"I require every man aboard to make himself useful."
She understood what Firetongue had meant, the first mate had yet to figure out she was a she. Kaaliya averted her eyes and let the gently rolling deck take her further than it should, behind the crimson matron. Living in close quarters with Chakor had refined her own sense of mischief. She was suddenly curious how long she could carry on the deception.
"You have but to ask," said Firetongue with a small bow.
"Weigh anchor. Can you manage that?"
"Yes, my lord," Firetongue replied. She motioned to Kaaliya, and they made their way to the bow.
More than blind, the first mate seemed to already have some sort of vendetta. Kaaliya knew bringing up the heavy stone anchors would require four men at least, yet the smallest crewman and an Ek'kiru had been asked.
Clicks and shifting chitin swept the deck as the Ek'kiru worked. Likely they'd been happy to volunteer. Their curiosity for human customs and this strange collection of essences Firetongue had told her about apparently knew no end, even if it spelled disaster. Though, if they died at sea, how would they then martyr themselves? She'd have to ask Firetongue when they had a moment.
The driving curiosity of these beings made more sense than before. Their eyes constantly fed them information from all angles and they navigated life on a current of keenly attuned sensations. They also had a greater reason than personal satisfaction to pursue these experiences.
So telling then, that Sidge, the one Ek'kiru she'd spent much time with, had had concerns only for his temple. Changing scenery as they'd traveled had annoyed and frustrated him. The one thing which had calmed him had been busying his hands with needle and thread. Or stroking her hair. That had relaxed them both.
"Thinking about a man?" buzzed Firetongue.
"Not exactly."
"Good. Are you ready?"
Kaaliya nodded, and they leaned into
the wooden bars radiating off the capstan. It was as though she were trying to unseat a timber of the city wall but the bar slipped forward, and she powered into the surprising momentum. Firetongue casually pushed opposite her with four hands. Another tick forward and Kaaliya let her stride loosen.
The first mate watched from mid-deck, disappointed once more. He was a broody bastard, that one. Rugged and handsome in the weathered way only a man who'd toiled under the open sky his entire life could be, but far too tense for her liking.
Climbing and lack of sleep had finally caught up and Kaaliya stumbled, though the anchor rope continued to wind. As she dug in behind the bar once more, she quickly understood the strength in Firetongue's six limbs. She laughed out loud as they drew the anchors closer and closer to the deck.
The ridge of her palms and base of her thumbs blistered against the wooden bar, but Kaaliya refused to let go. Her hands had been softened by her courtesan lifestyle. She'd sworn to herself to never let them get that way. More strain and her skin peeled back to expose raw, stinging patches where callouses should've been. The angry flesh would scab over and thicken again she knew, dulling any pain. Across from her, her partner showed little concern.
Kaaliya could feel the first mate continuing to glare as they made progress. He began to berate the drunks who muddled about their own routine. Maybe Baladeva had already told him about her acting title, and the first mate feared she would commandeer the ship.
She snorted and pushed harder. She didn't want a ship or a household. Gods, the insecurity she dealt with.
Clearly her new title hadn't been shared, the more she thought about it. As Firetongue noted, he'd mistaken her for a man, or boy more likely. In fact, he and the two drunks were probably the last to know. All this subterfuge really had been to nurture the Attarah's ego. Protect his precious stones.
Fuck these foolish men and their pride. Another vicious push and the stone anchors clattered against the forepeak. She and Firetongue locked the capstan to wrestle them on board. Several of the experienced Ek'kiru rushed over, helping to flip the stones onto the deck and fix them along the rail.
