by Russ Linton
With each roll of the sea, the lavish collection of silks and tapestries rustled in the lamplight of the Captain's quarters. Rugs covered the floors so not a board could be seen beyond the threshold. Captain Baladeva sat cocooned by patterned designs and stylized moonstriders. He reclined with his bare feet propped atop a mahogany table which seemed aghast at having been nailed to the deck of a ship. The high-backed chair was equally out of place.
"Do you think you fooled anyone?" Captain Baladeva asked, picking at the dirt beneath his nails.
The room lurched. He moved with it, balanced effortlessly in a chair too far off the deck for such unsteady footing, just another piece of the ship.
Kaaliya staggered and bent her knees to prevent a fall. Another roll and she was stumbling the other way.
She'd been on ships but never so far from shore. The two drunks had spent much of the morning feeding the fish from the rails. Even the Ek'kiru seemed more quiet than usual. She puffed out a breath to try and calm her stomach before trying to answer the captain's question.
"The two members of your old crew," she began. "Each of the nobles. Maybe even the Attarah himself." She considered the exposed beams of the ceiling. "And your first mate. You should have seen the look on his face when you called me in here. Have you told him who I am?" He pouted and shook his head and then she understood. "Your latest conquest?"
"You make love sound so vicious."
Despite the jagged scar which at one time must've separated his cheek and left his jaw shattered, the captain was handsome enough. Once you got past the sheer violence of bubbled skin and crooked bone, you could see how it marred a meticulously preened face. The same dark kohl filling in his beard coated his lashes. Despite age in the corners of his eyes, his skin remained smooth and supple. Hints of dye stained his scalp under ebony hair. An ideal of beauty not normally imposed on men of the sea or men in general.
"Isn't it?" she said, less looking for a response and more to keep the conversation going as her throat spasmed and stomach turned.
The quip must have held too much sincerity and Baladeva chewed his lip for an answer. "There was a story about a man who lived long before the Attarah walked. A man who sought to tame the tempests of a young world barely freed from Pama's teat. Finding the storms too much, he clung to the world for dear life. Dashed against the rocks, he was cut and torn and bruised so that he couldn't be recognized. When the storms finally receded he prayed to all the four corners that he'd survived. Soon he discovered his prayers had been empty. In the wake of the storm, he found he had no reason left to live." The captain placed his hand across his heart and cast a beatific glance skyward. "The tempest hadn't changed the world, it had changed him, and he sought it thereafter for eternity."
A story she'd never heard. "Who was the man?"
The captain threw up his hands. "How should I know. Though some say he was Kurath and the tempest, Alshasra'a himself. You know as well as I, you get a different answer depending on where you drop anchor."
Commoner's tales, so much more interesting than the regimented chants of the mantras. Baladeva knew almost as many as Old Jai and certainly more than she. Though, she'd never admit as much.
"Your love of restless seas must be why you accepted this expedition."
The captain clicked his tongue. "My youthful infatuation was with a ship full of men far, far away from their women." Baladeva swept his gaze around the cabin, piercing the walls and onto the deck beyond. "Damned if I didn't fall in love with one anyway."
"Love isn't something I aspire to," she said. "At least not the kind I can't profit from."
He coyly turned his face and displayed the undamaged side, painted with a mischievous grin. A knowing look in his lined eyes, his true beauty became apparent without the scar. "A person can hardly control their heart."
She changed the subject. "Remind me why I've not sought passage with you in so long."
"You've been busy, I hear. A courtesan to the Jadugar in such a short time and one who demands the attention of the Attarah himself!" Baladeva crowed, clearly impressed.
"A clever ploy, nothing more. I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."
Baladeva slid his feet from the table and propped his elbows there. "Do tell."
The deck tossed, and the experienced sailor shifted his weight to compensate. She felt her head follow then her body tug the opposite way, stomach swimming somewhere between. Disoriented, Baladeva's strong hands guided her into his chair. Once she was situated, he crossed to the rear bulkhead where he brushed aside a silk and retrieved a small wooden box from a shelf.
Kaaliya cradled her head and told the story of her negotiation with the Attarah as best she could in as few words as possible. She owed him one now, anyway. She'd have normally embellished the details and gone out of her way to describe the grandeur of the palace. But every time she opened her mouth for more than a few words she fought her own tempest raging around the fried barley cakes and spiced wine she'd had for breakfast.
By the time she got to the end, Baladeva asked her why. Why become a Jadugar of all things. Unable and unwilling to tell the entire story behind Chakor's deception, she blurted out, "I grew tired of being a whore."
It felt true. She prided herself on control of her clients in the early, rougher days. Her body, her coin. Ever since Hedgedweller had sparked such vivid recollections of the Pit, she'd become unsure. Or had it been the other way around? No, that had been Firetongue who asked and the cool waters of the palace well that almost insisted on calling forth that memory. The troll had unnerved her in a different way, followed shortly by Chakor.
"Here." Baladeva opened the box and withdrew a small pouch. From within he produced a dirt-speckled, warty bulb. Kaaliya accepted it between two fingers. An odor of overripe fruit made her nose scrunch.
"Place it in your cheek," he said. "For the sickness."
She chewed her lip and considered tossing the tuber under the table while he turned to stow the box, but as the deck rolled again, she grimaced and popped the rancid nugget in her mouth. Saliva dribbled down her lip, and she sucked it back.
"Don't swallow."
"Not to worry. That's extra," she said.
Baladeva gave a sharp, paralyzed bark of laughter. "Or bite. A given, I assume?"
She wagged a finger as she worked the lump between cheek and gum. "Not always, as you would know." The taste was nothing like the smell. She'd expected an oily putrid taste but instead, a burning sensation filled her nose. "Troll medicine?"
"Ah, yes. You must be familiar. I recall your experience with them is quite extensive."
She slurped back saliva again and shook her head. "They have too many secrets for one person to know." Speaking was becoming more difficult. "If you'd mentioned them, I might've thought better of it."
"An acquired taste." Baladeva pulled back his cheek to reveal naked gums where several teeth should've been. A bulb rested underneath the uneven scar.
"As are the trolls," she said. "How did you encounter them?"
"Never seen the little beasties but I managed to come by some of their herbs on a trade up north. Fellow from the Pit."
"Oh?" She lowered her eyes, and her mind went to Old Jai, already so close with the sharing of stories. Could he be alive? Back to his trading and exploring? Maybe after this, she'd find him on the road and finally repay her debt.
Gods, she was being a fool. This trader could've been anyone. Jai was blind and old when she'd seen him last, surely he'd passed on, never leaving that wretched place.
Baladeva caught on to her distant expression. "You travel to the Pit before?"
She shook her head, casting a look around as she did, mouth bloating with saliva. She prayed for a nonexistent open patch of deck where she could spit. Baladeva splayed his hands, and the softer side of his features became ridiculously panicked beside the frozen grimace. He snatched a bronze pot from the floor and angled it toward her.
She fired a wad of juices into the pot wi
th a satisfying ring. Rising to her feet, her stomach stayed steady. "Do you keep enough of this stuff on hand for the crew?"
"Won't matter to the Ek'kiru," Baladeva grumbled and strode to the cabin door. He began to remove his scourge from a hook then decided against it. "And what's left of the old crew could use a good purge."
Kaaliya started to join him at the door, and the captain warded her away. "Rest. You earned it, Apprentice." A soft corner of silks and pillows drew her eye, and she found herself nodding. "Shall I tell the crew who's really in charge of this expedition?"
"You mean inform the drunks and your First Mate?" she asked collapsing into the pillows. "The Ek'kiru already have some idea, they just aren't ones to gossip."
He scratched his chin, and his eyes lit. "I suppose I could wait. Nanda tracked you like a serpent when you came in."
"A jealous type?" she asked.
"Very much so," replied Baladeva. "But it makes him…vigorous."
"I'll let you weather his tempest as you see fit." She pushed her hat forward and let her head sink into the pillows. "And I'll sit out the excitement for a while."
She heard the cabin door rattle closed and latch.
Then she was dreaming.
Chakor chased her through the warrens of her home. A place she'd never wanted to see again, even in dream, and she'd been there twice in as many days. She scaled walls, cliff faces. She tread on the rubble of the ancient temple under the eyes of nameless gods. Twice, she fell, and Chakor closed, buzzing after her on iridescent wings.
She ducked into the sanctuary, the room of the empty altar and the buzz of his wings echoed off the walls, sounding from everywhere, a mantra of veined, transparent skin, drawing her forward, closer to the altar where the deep cavity pierced, where it spiraled into the ground, and she crept closer, closer until she hung over it and stared into the open wound.
Tiny rope bridges traversed the hole, connecting homes carved from the stone sides. The one with its crooked lintel scrutinized her as she filled its sky.
Chakor thrashed among the bridges, ensnared in their ropes. She reached in and plucked his wings, and he fell. Into darkness. Without her.
CHAPTER XXVII
When Kaaliya staggered on to the deck, the candle of dawn which had helped conceal her earlier had been replaced by the stark light and harsh shadow of a cloudy day. Even her baggy clothes no longer offered concealment in the chill breeze. The first mate's sidelong glance became a full stare. He blushed and looked away as she approached him and the captain standing near the main mast.
The deck tossed about restlessly. She kept a straight line, though it took concentration. The bulb had dried against her upper gums, and she wet it with her tongue. It seemed to still be working.
"You slept well I take it?" asked Baladeva.
The captain had changed from his formal clothing, indicating he'd been in and out of his cabin at least one more time. She hadn't noticed but apparently, Nanda had. She could tell by the way he kept avoiding her gaze. Most of the other eyes and lenses were already focused beyond the prow.
Further out, roaming ocean hills and valleys lost their definition. The Pamanites soared upward in defiance of the masquerade of flatness, and empty sky lay at their feet. Their peaks overtook the main mast, and their feet rested in clouds several palm lengths above the horizon. The sun crested their heights, diffuse and yellow.
Kaaliya walked toward the bow in awe. Why had they returned?
"See, this is what I have to deal with," declared Nanda behind Kaaliya's back. "Keeping the men busy and their eyes off the skies. Even the bugmen are getting unnerved."
Kaaliya tore herself from the view. "Where do you need me?"
At the sound of her voice, one of the former drunks who was currently busy scrubbing the deck looked up and squinted. Nanda stomped over and planted a foot near the man's face. "All of it. You'll eat off that deck tonight, understand? And you," he said, letting the reprimand carry him into Kaaliya, "you wish to work? I thought–" he clamped his mouth, and his eyes darted to Baladeva, who innocently inspected a line. "I thought you were enjoying our accommodations, lady."
She checked the position of the sun. She'd slept longer than the morning. An entire day, at least, and they weren't quite there yet. Plenty of sailing left to do. "I'll work. Give me a task."
"What can you do?"
"I can climb," she said, almost reluctantly. She'd had sleep, but it hadn't been restful. Still, it was all she had to offer, especially to these two, and she couldn't shake her desire to needle at the uptight first mate.
The captain let loose an appreciative, airy whistle as Nanda broke into a wicked smile. "Good. Get that down." He pointed to the top of the mainsail.
Firetongue occupied the yard, one hand on the mast. A strong breeze arced the sails. The straight lines of the battens tipped with the rolling sea. Normally the sail would have been an easy climb with the boom in reach of the deck and battens running parallel up the sails like an over-sized ladder. Conditions made it challenging.
"Go on, get her down before she tears the sail or gets tangled in the rigging," said Nanda.
The matron held rigid, her hands grasping the mast and her feet sunk into the ballooned sail. It couldn't have been fear of falling. As much as the ship's rocking made Kaaliya's head spin, she knew the Ek'kiru could climb with ease. Something else was wrong.
Kaaliya looked to Baladeva.
He gave his best disinterested shrug. "Maybe one of her own kind could retrieve her?" He knew better than to try and talk her out of it though she could see the concern in his eyes.
"No, they won't get near that one," replied Nanda. So there was more to this, Kaaliya thought. "Well?"
Kaaliya scowled at the first mate and looked away. Keeping her eyes on the mast, she kicked off her boots and charged.
She leapt, her arms hooked and squeezing and feet planted flat on either side. Chest back, she drove her weight downward, never leaving her feet in contact at the same time, palms alternating while she shimmied. A forest monkey's climb. Maybe she didn't need the ropes after all.
But sea spray and a layer of salt had created a slick coating which quickly built up on the soles of her feet and palms. Worn smooth by exposure, the wood had lost all grip.
Her heel slipped. Without the counter, she had nothing but the pincered grip of her forearms holding her. She hung there, in reach of a solid handhold on the boom, unwilling to admit defeat but knowing it couldn't last. Growling, she slid back to the deck.
Nanda gave a derisive hiss. Baladeva began to motion to the upper deck for the other Ek'kiru, but she leveled a finger, daring him. The captain raised his eyebrows and offered the mast to her once again with a sweeping gesture.
A quick appraisal, a map drawn in her mind. If she'd thought it through, taken advantage of the battens and ropes attaching the sails, she could've done it on her first attempt. Nanda's smugness had gotten to her. Normally she wouldn't let that happen. She blamed weird dreams and fatigue.
What was she really doing out here? Being chased by men. Surrounded by men. Jealous, dismissive, angry, smitten…gods, she grew tired of it. She completely understood why Firetongue had sought out her lonely perch.
More eyes watched her. The human sailors stared heavily at her soaked shirt, coming to Nanada's same realization which they'd missed in a haze of sura and little sleep. Several Ek'kiru held motionless, their vast eyes drawing her into their cluster of lenses.
On the upper deck, Talemok looped a rope around the rudder shaft. He slipped under a weave of sheet lines before effortlessly leaping to stand beside her on his spindly, grasshopper legs. Quirking his elongated head, she could see a shadow of the sail reflected in his eyes and Firetongue at the top.
"You should let her be." His mouth moved on all sides as he spoke, a dark void where his face tapered into his jaw.
"Why?"
"She is of the Hive Guard, and they don't often leave Abwoon. Their ways are mysterious, but we kn
ow she does not wish to be approached. She is distressed."
Baladeva was at her shoulder again, speaking to Talemok. "You could climb? Leap right up there?"
"Apologies, Captain," the Ek'kiru partially bowed, "but I will not. Your first mate's club scares me less than the Hive Guard on your mast. I will man the rudder, raise and lower the sails, retrieve the anchor, manage your nest of ropes, but I will not approach Firetongue."
Baladeva clicked his tongue in thought. "I suppose she's not interfering with anything."
Talemok leapt once more to the upper deck, and the captain turned toward the sea while exchanging hushed words with Nanda. Above, Firetongue remained still, swaying slightly when the boat dipped. The seas grew rougher the larger the Pamanites loomed.
Already Kaaliya had let the matron out-climb her—mounting the dome at Chakor's estate had been impossible. She'd caught the Ek'kiru deep in thought there too, and afterward, they'd had a good talk on the way to the palace. From what she could tell, Firetongue was the only other woman on board as well. A few words of shared sympathy might help this distress, regardless of what Talemok said.
Kaaliya took another running start. The balls of her feet slapped against the mast, and she bounded up with the aid of the rigging, reaching the boom in two long strides. With the rigid battens, her climb progressed quickly.
Deck planks grew small. The cracking of the sail in the ocean wind sounded like an axe splitting logs. Shouts began below, but she didn't acknowledge them.
Higher up and the once straight mast seemed to curve. She felt the world pitch with every deepening swell.
Any sort of weakness for heights had been culled by her childhood, but those didn't have the swirling seas below. She wondered if she fell in the water whether they'd come back for her. Or if they even could? Long ago, she'd climbed above an endless blackness without a second thought. Things had changed so much since then.
Baladeva looked up, terrified. Nanda shouted, angry, his frustration clearly focused on the unruly whore who'd caused his captain to worry. Jealousy, embarrassment, and defense of his lover's honor had all driven him, along with a clear desire to stop whatever had placed the worried grimace on Baladeva's face.
