by Dora Machado
FOR A WOMAN WHO DIDN’T KNOW how to swim, Lusielle was spending far too much time in the water. For a remedy mixer who had no idea how long her yearling repellent was going to last, she was being downright foolish.
One of these days, she was going to brew herself a cure for ordinary stupidity. An ingredient was bound to turn up capable of suppressing emotion, enhancing common sense and curbing dutiful but suicidal urges. The remedy’s requirements were clear: Subdue the heart, enhance the brain, liberate reason and stifle baffling attachments.
She would have to share a drop of this new concoction with Elfu and Severo. Protests aside, they were sticking with her.
Dragging her feet in the mud, Lusielle drifted silently beneath the docks and in between the old barnacled posts, until she reached the far side of the harbor. Severo and Elfu floated behind her. The water was deeper in this part of the port, able to provide berth to much larger hulls. This time, when her feet lost purchase, she entrusted her body to the water without a fight.
Riding the riverbank’s current, she aimed for a rope dangling down from the dock and caught it, bracing her legs against the hull of the barge she had aimed for. Concealed beneath the decks’ overhang, she saw that the barge was a lot bigger than the one carrying Laonia’s tribute. It was a lot taller, too. She guessed it sported at least an extra level in between the deck and the hull.
“Have you been on this barge before?” she whispered.
“Once,” Severo whispered back. “A long time ago.”
“Where’s the main cabin?”
“Mid-deck, mid-ship, port side.”
“Do you recall if it had any portholes?”
“Portholes? Nay, mistress. It had a balcony.”
The gods were a generous bunch. “Show me.”
Clinging to Severo, Lusielle swam to the opposite side of the pier. Elfu followed, muttering a string of protests. From her newest perch beneath the dock, Lusielle could tell that the balcony was exactly where Severo remembered.
“I need to climb up there.”
Severo gave her an appraising look.
“It’s important,” she whispered, “for your lord.”
“Wait here.” Severo swam away.
Lusielle shivered in the water.
“We need to get away from here,” Elfu said. “We need to go to the Sea Port Cities as you planned.”
“I have to go to Teos.”
“That awful place again. You tried. You didn’t make it. Let’s move on.”
“I can’t quit now.”
“Of course you can,” Elfu said. “This is your chance. Forget about the Lord of Laonia.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I think you know why.” Lusielle stared at her faithful companion. “I think you know better than I do.”
Elfu’s face blanched, a hard feat for such a dark-skinned fellow. The alarm she spotted in his eyes was all she needed to confirm her suspicions, even as Severo returned with a coil of rope strung over his shoulder.
He knotted one end of the rope around Lusielle’s waist and pulled her along the barge’s port side, until they floated beneath the balcony. The gilded posts stood about two spans above the water. Holding on to her with one hand, Severo pitched the looped end of the rope, trying to catch the cap topping the banister. He missed several times before the rope caught and the loop tightened at the base of the cap.
“Let me go up first,” Elfu said as Severo began to pull.
Lusielle clung to the rope. “I have to do this.”
Pull by pull, Lusielle’s sodden body lifted from the water. The rope around her waist felt as if it were cleaving her in half, but she hung on, reaching out to grab the bottom of the railing to stabilize her ascent. Water dribbled from her clothing in a trickle, a muted noise that sounded like a rainstorm to her ears. She feared the whole barge would come out to find the source of such racket, but the sound of the rain concealed her progress.
After what felt like a lifetime, Lusielle finally reached the balcony. She grabbed the railing and wedged her feet in between the banister. One of the doors was cracked open, no doubt to allow some ventilation into the chamber. The rain rapped a steady staccato on the windowpanes. Climbing over the railing, she tucked herself to one side of the door. A shallow pool of dripping water had formed around her before she dared a peek.
Dawn’s gray fingers had just begun to reach into the chamber. Not one, but two bodies lay entwined beneath the berth’s silken canopy, an exquisite assembly of bare skin and flowing limbs. Lusielle knuckled her eyes. Was she seeing right?
The gods help her. She should have seen the obvious before. It explained so much!
The bed’s occupants were still asleep, which was good, because it gave Lusielle a chance to take in the details that would matter most and pull together a plan. She groped through her remedy case until she found what she sought. Then she waited, summoning her courage, until the sleepers began to stir.
A woman reached out after a languorous stretch and began planting little kisses along her lover’s enticing neck. A husky voice drifted from the bed. “Good morning, my sweet lady.”
The Lady of Tolone stirred in her lover’s arms. “Good morning, my love. Is it time to continue the journey?”
“It’s early yet. We have time for a little sport, don’t you think?”
“Indeed.”
Lusielle stood very still in her corner, feeling like the schemer and the intruder she was, keeping her eyes averted from the scene, yet oddly moved by the care and affection she couldn’t avoid witnessing. She was embarrassed and not a little ashamed by the scope of her subterfuge, but she was also resolute.
Dawn illuminated the passionate moments that followed. Her mind tried to trick her at times, enticing her to distractions with memories of Bren. Yet all along, she kept lust at bay and the little vermillion shell she held in her hand pointed in the right direction.
Chapter Sixty-three
LUSIELLE PRAYED THE GODS WOULD BE forgiving even of those who used prejudice and deceit, especially if it was for a worthy purpose. She waited for the sounds of bliss coming from the bed to subside, listening attentively to the details of the murmured exchange. Then she mustered her courage and stepped out from her hiding spot.
It took a moment before the bed’s occupants noticed her. With her wet hair plastered against her skull, her soggy skirt dripping, and her blouse sticking to her body, she must have been quite the sight. The stink of rotten bait alone should have given her away, but the pair on the bed were as confident about their safety as they were about their privacy. Lusielle had to clear her throat—which needed clearing anyway—in order to get their attention.
In a blink, a trained sword arched through the air and pressed against her belly.
Lusielle tried to keep her voice steady. “It’ll be the end of Tolone if you draw my blood.”
“Dare you threaten my lady?” The sword retreated, but only to add momentum to the killing blow.
“Don’t,” the lady said. “Not yet.”
The Lady of Tolone’s inscrutable eyes fixed on Lusielle. An elegant rigidity contained her movements as she picked up her signet ring from the night table and slipped it onto her middle finger. Her regal poise reclaimed her features’ expressions. Gone were the passion and the unguarded abandonment she had been bestowing on her lover just moments ago. Despite the pillows framing her dazzling figure, despite her free-flowing hair and her brazen nudity, she looked every part the stateswoman she was.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in perfect control of her emotions.
“I need to get to Teos, and fast,” Lusielle said.
The lady cocked her head. “And what makes you think I’m likely to make a place for you on my barge?”
“You owe allegiance to the Lord of Laonia.”
“Is he here?” She pretended to look around. “I don’t see him.”
“You’ll have to deal with me in his ste
ad.”
“Oh?” The lady flashed a cold grin. “And how’s that?”
Lusielle waved a hand over the bed.
“Let me kill her,” the lady’s lover muttered, all too eager.
“Be patient,” the lady said. “You’ll get your chance. But I’m curious, Lusielle: are you threatening to blackmail me over what you’ve seen here today?”
“Your words, not mine. I only want to get to Teos, and soon.”
“Do you think I should be punished because I took a lover?”
“Who am I to judge what’s right or wrong for you?” Lusielle said. “I’m no highborn, but I’d imagine Teos will be riled by your broken vows to the Lord of Laonia—at least in principle.”
“Teos might be mad at me, but not lethally so. And so that you know, nothing but a mild admonishment will result from taking a baseborn lover. Why, the high fashion these days is to spay and neuter one’s favorite baseborn to avoid any semblance of Teos’s wrath.” She laughed. “But that’s not bothering you either. Tell me: is it the fact that I took a woman to my bed that shocks you the most?”
Lusielle’s stare shifted from the lady Eleanor to Tatyene, her bodyguard, lover, and zealous protector, currently plotting Lusielle’s swift death. She couldn’t find it in her heart to condone anyone for loving someone else. But this wasn’t about what she believed. It was about what she had to do.
“I couldn’t care less who you take to your bed,” Lusielle said. “If anything, I think I understand your predicament.”
“You? Understand? My predicament?”
“What to do when oaths collide?” Lusielle said. “The Lord of Laonia or Tolone? I think you chose Tolone first. After that, I think you chose yourself. I’ve got no quarrel with your choices. However, I think Teos will rule against you for sure, if they learn that you’ve forsaken your highborn marital duty by taking a baseborn wife.”
“Such a vile accusation cannot be proven!”
“You called her ‘wife’ several times during your lovemaking. And you wear her name inked beneath your ring in the ritual way of the Sea Port Cities marriage contract, just as surely as she wears your name beneath her ring.”
Eleanor glared. “You’re deluded if you think they’ll believe your word over mine.”
“I’m prepared for that contingency.” Lusielle held up the vermillion shell. “Why trust my testimony when they can hear directly from you?”
Recognizing the object in Lusielle’s hand, the lady paled.
“Once they listen to you,” Lusielle said, “they’ll only have to look under your ring, and the truth will be known.”
Tatyene hissed. “You’ll be long dead before they ever know—”
“Before you make the disastrous mistake of gutting me,” Lusielle said, “let me assure you this is only one of a pair of matching vermillion shells.”
Tatyene looked to the Lady of Tolone.
“They always come in pairs,” she said, appraising Lusielle with new eyes.
“The other shell is on its way somewhere safe,” Lusielle said, “from where it will be fetched if I fail to show up at Teos within the next few days, or if I turn up missing or dead.”
There. She had set the terms for the uncontestable reason that would force the Lady of Tolone to do as Lusielle willed.
The lady strolled across the room and, snatching her robe, jammed her arms into the silken sleeves. “I’ll take you to Teos,” she said, “but don’t pretend to draw me further into any of your schemes. Tolone is not a fair price to pay for Laonia’s survival.”
“What if she’s bluffing?” Tatyene said. “What if there’s no other shell out there? We could end this here and now. She’d be dead and nobody would know.”
“Do you know what would happen if Teos learned we’re married?” the lady said. “No one can lie to Teos’s inhalers. Not even I can resist Teos’s inquiries. I’d be punished harshly, maybe even unseated, but not killed, because my womb would still hold value to spew out a few more snotty highborn into the world.”
The Lady of Tolone paused and reached out to stroke her lover’s pinched face. “You, on the other hand, would be found guilty on the spot, accused of corruption, skinned alive then slowly dipped into a pool of famished yearlings over the length of a full day as a lesson to those who defy the code and Teos’s peace.”
“But—”
“No, dear. No,” the lady said. “Tolone aside, I’m not giving you up.”
Lusielle hated what she had done, loathed the ruse she’d had to concoct in order to achieve her purposes. Loyalty was a matter of perspective. Love was the greatest risk of all. She had brewed a bitter remedy and now she had to swallow it.
“We should get going.” She stepped out into the balcony and gestured for Severo and Elfu to climb up the rope. “We’ll be taking on two more.”
“Help them,” the Lady of Tolone said.
Tatyene complied with her lady’s command, but not happily. “One day,” she muttered, bumping into Lusielle on her way to the balcony, “I’m going to kill you.”
“That might very well be the case,” the Lady of Tolone said. “But before that, you’ll need to order a bath for the woman, before she kills me with her stench.”
“Soon,” Tatyene mouthed.
Lusielle knew she wasn’t lying.
Chapter Sixty-four
THE MORNING WAS WELL ADVANCED WHEN Bren and a few of his men rowed the remaining reed boat to the quiet inlet where the reed cutter had been securely moored. He felt like a thief. Clearly, the reed croppers had meant to return someday. Hopefully, he would live long enough to compensate them for their losses.
Bren hopped on the weather-worn platform and examined the reed cutter. It was an ingenious though simple contraction. A sturdy deck of roped logs anchored a set of poles. The poles, currently lifted, could be lowered in front of the deck. They supported a substantial shaft fitted with two massive wheels equipped with evenly spaced blades in between. By poling into the reed beds with the wheels lowered, the croppers cut down the reeds and harvested them onto their flat boats.
Bren unknotted the ropes and, after tying them onto his boat, signaled for his men to row the boat back to the barge. Riding on the little deck, he wondered if his plan would work. He had tried to build a similar concept once before. He remembered that summer by the lake well enough, the freedom of it, when his young man’s optimism combined with a thirst for exploration and discovery.
It seemed like so long ago. He and Harald had worked together to try to build a faster ship. They had scoured their father’s library for firsthand accounts of the swiftest methods of navigation, studying tales from faraway lands and ancient times. They had even drawn up a detailed set of plans to modify one of their father’s cargo ships. Harald had been close to twenty then. Bren had been almost eighteen.
Just as they were putting the finishing touches on their model, Ethan—the oldest of the brothers and his father’s successor—died. With him also died any hope of avoiding the mysterious curse that had killed their father, the bright, beautiful summer, and Bren’s dreams of building the fastest ships on the Nerpes.
Memories were a fickle thing. They softened a man’s heart and distracted him from his business. There could be no more dreams for him now, no thoughts of shipbuilding or exploration, only hasty, deliberate action.
And duty. Always duty.
By the time he clambered back onto the barge, it was noon and the other three reed cutters he had brought aboard earlier had been lifted onto the barge and disassembled.
“We’ve done what you asked,” Hato reported, eyes dulled and cheeks sunken with exhaustion. “What do you want us to do now?”
Bren inspected the reed-woven paddles attached to the blades. They were sturdy, tightly set, and flexible, yet well-attached. He would have liked to experiment with hardier materials, but there were none to be had.
He looked at all the men assembled around him, recognizing the expectation on their weary faces. �
��Excellent job,” he said. “Give the Twenty a task and get twenty times the work in return. Let’s disassemble this other cutter. Meanwhile, we’ll begin to install this one.”
“Where, my lord?” Clio asked.
“We’ll brace it on the aft deck, like this.” He grabbed the chalk from Hato and sketched a rough drawing on the deck. “We’ll fix the hinges here and here, mounting the wheels over the stern’s gunwales at water level.”
“That’s going to take forever,” one of the crew mumbled.
“Not if we work together,” Bren said. “Not if you work like one of the Twenty.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” A very skeptical pilot eyed Bren’s drawing. “I don’t think it’ll work.”
“We’ll be going so fast you’ll have to hang on to your hat.”
“This old gal? Fast?” The man scoffed. “Not even with a new set of sails.”
Bren spotted the doubt in the men’s eyes. He needed the crew’s labor to achieve his goal. Even the Twenty were looking frayed. He calculated he was about six days away from Teos. Arriving to Teos on the offering’s official day was impossible, but if he could get the barge ready, perhaps he could manage to get to Teos within the grace period. He would have to pay a late penalty, but with a little luck, he still had a shot at preserving Laonia’s charter.
Luck. A cursed man wasn’t likely to wield a lot of that. He had to do better if he was going to get to Teos on time.
“I tell you what,” he said. “I’ll grant a cask of sweet Laonian wine and a gold coin to every man on this barge if we get to Teos before sundown four days from now.”
“Four days from now?” the man said. “Impossible! Speed like that has never been seen on the Nerpes.”
“We can do it,” Bren said. “But I need your help. You’ve got to work hard. You’ve got to grant me every drop of sweat you’ve got in those fat asses of yours.”
The men laughed and returned to work, dividing into teams according to Bren’s instructions. The sun was hot. The day was humid. The wind blew the acrid scent of smoke and the grit of ashes from the smoldering reed beds onto the barge. Eyes watered. Throats itched. Yet everyone worked at a frantic pace, accomplishing one set of tasks after another.
