Salt in the Water (A Lesser Dark Book 1)

by S. Cushaway

  A vibration hummed through the air, louder than a hornet or fly.

  Someone’s coming.

  A rover appeared, outlined against the horizon as it crested Pointe Rock. The vehicle began coasting down the steep path toward the Old Tree Well, obscured by dust. Gairy wiped the sweat from his eyes, straining to recognize the driver through the cloud. It was no good. The bright sun peeking over the Rock blinded him. He swallowed another gulp of whiskey and pushed himself up. Wiping his mouth, he peered from under the brim of his hat at the outpost behind the well.

  “Senqua! Who is that coming down Pointe Rock?”

  She squinted up from where she’d been studying a tattered field guide in the shade of the porch. “It’s Romano Vargas. I recognize that Draggin. Kaitar Besh is with him, and an Enforcer . . . Leigh, I think.” She tossed the book down and tugged a red yalei over her shoulders. Gairy thought she looked half a kid standing there, her small frame hidden by the loose, heavy garment.

  “You should get a spotting scope if you can’t see, Gairy. They’re less than a mile away.”

  “What I should get is another drink. I’m gonna need it to deal with Besh, though why the hell Neiro has him up here . . .” He trailed off, frowning.

  Senqua tilted her head as she stepped down the rickety porch. “Maybe if you’d have answered the Veraleid instead of ignoring the calls, you’d know why Neiro has him up here.”

  “Just get me another bottle of Saltang, hm? I’m empty over here.”

  She didn’t reply, only stood watching as the rover grew closer, her long braid whipping as the wind swept along the low valley. Behind Senqua, a crow perched in the ancient acacia, head cocked, black feathers ruffled against the breeze. Gairy didn’t like the way the bird’s eyes glittered; the thing was too sly looking. He hurled the empty glass bottle at it and missed by a dozen feet. The crow cawed in protest as it flew off.

  Senqua scowled at him. “Why’d you do that?”

  Shrugging, he lowered himself against the well and rubbed his sweaty palms against his pants. A thick odor tickled his nose; he needed a wash, but why bother? It would change nothing. A drink would, though. The intense thirst—the need—lingered in his throat. He scratched at his beard, belly jiggling with the movement. That belly and arm had once been thick with muscle rather than fat, and he wondered when he’d turned into a walking pile of suet.

  The Draggin roared up, bringing its cloud of dust. Romano Vargas—tanned, muscled, and handsome—pushed his goggles up on his forehead and waved. Beside him, Kaitar looked oddly pale, his copper face gone slate.

  Leigh Enderi didn’t wave or smile in greeting as she climbed from the back of the vehicle, her cheeks powdered red with dust. Nodding in Gairy's direction, she marched toward the well. “We’re here to refill and get your report. Kaitar will get that from you while we fill the barrels.”

  “Report?” Gairy didn’t move from his perch. The Enforcer’s charcoa-black eyes reminded him too much of the crow’s eyes. The burn in his throat worsened with each passing second, and he spat in a vain attempt to alleviate the sensation. “What report? I didn’t get no word about givin’ Kaitar any reports. He’s the far scout, I’m the north scout. There’s nothing I got to tell him.”

  “Neiro sent us out to find Gren. You’re supposed to have a report ready for us.”

  Guess Hubert was right. She’s gotta be Sulari with an attitude like that. Almost as bad as Shyiine.

  Senqua spoke up from where she’d been helping Romano unhook the water barrels. “Gairy hasn’t answered any messages for almost two weeks. He says if anything important happens, we’ll hear it from the caravaneers that come to the well. Or from a Scrapper patrol. He’s supposed to be training me to take Broach’s place, but all he’s had me do is read some stupid field guide about the plants halfway across the world.”

  “It’s a good guide, Senqua. Still useful,” Gairy muttered. “Belonged to my great granddaddy. Got him through the mountains.”

  Senqua shook her head before stooping to help the Junker lower a barrel to the ground. “We’re not in the mountains. We’re in the desert.”

  Romano tore his gaze from the Shyiine woman’s breasts. “I’ve got to give the Draggin a quick check-over to make sure we’re good to go.” Brushing back his dark hair, he paused just long enough to give Senqua a view of his muscled chest beneath the faded shirt.

  Senqua laughed. “You look like a cactus sparrow puffing its feathers up to scare off a snake.”

  Romano grinned. “Or one trying to attract a mate, right?”

  “I’m sure all the female sparrows will be very impressed.”

  “The hell you showin’ off for, Vargas?” Gairy asked.

  Leigh spoke before Romano could respond. “Kaitar, get the report from Gairy so I can help fill the barrels.” She motioned to the Shyiine woman. “Help me roll them over there, Senqua. It will be easier to refill using that pump than doing it at the well. We won’t get bugs in the water that way.”

  As Leigh and Senqua struggled with the barrel, Romano made some pretense of checking the Draggin, casting quick glances at Senqua's backside and smiling stupidly the entire time.

  “Got nothin’ to report.” Gairy heaved himself up once more, enjoying the way he towered over everyone. His prominent, craggy features twisted into a scowl. “Been a few Scrappers this way. Couple of caravaneers headin’ to Glasstown and one that was goin’ to Dogton. That’s it. Just been me and Senqua for three or four days now.” He narrowed his eyes at the Shyiine man standing near the rover in silence, face expressionless.

  The hell’s wrong with him today?

  “Five,” Senqua corrected. She helped Leigh pull the heavy lid off the first barrel before gripping the pump lever. “Five days, Gairy. But you were close this time.”

  Gairy shrugged. “Four, five . . . doesn’t matter. Nothin’ up here, Kaitar. What’s this about Gren?”

  Kaitar made no response.

  Gairy cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, you sick? You know what will cure that?”

  “Pepper bloom.” Kaitar blinked. “Senqua, do you have any?”

  “No, sorry. I’ve been out for a long time.”

  “Hell.” The Shyiine scout rubbed his face. Some of the color came back into his cheeks, but his eyes were bloodshot.

  “Ignored everything I said.” Gairy snorted. “Typical. Never did bother to take me serious.”

  “Kaitar, are you all right?” Senqua pulled at the pump lever. “You do look sick.”

  “Fine,” Kaitar muttered, swatting at a fly. His nose wrinkled as if he smelled something foul, and his gaze shifted, settling on the source of the odor. Gairy found himself staring directly down into the smaller man’s face. That close scrutiny brought a hot flush of shame to his cheeks, mercifully hidden beneath his thick beard. Unable to resist the thirst any longer, he stalked past the pump to the rickety porch. The far scout trailed him like a hungry threk.

  “You gonna tell me about Gren?” Gairy asked, rummaging around in the crate. Almost empty. Only a few more bottles left, way down at the bottom, dusty and warm.

  “Gren got attacked down by Bywater Gully. It was probably the Sulari down there. You didn’t know about it? Heh, everyone in Dogton was talking about it before we left.”

  Gairy yanked a bottle free, brushed off the label—Glasstown Saltang—and gazed at it, loving the curved, fancy script. The amber liquid was almost the same shade as Kaitar’s eyes, but even that unwanted comparison didn’t quench his thirst. “Bywater Gully ain’t my problem.” He uncorked the bottle and took a long swallow, savoring the salt-and-fire burn. “And this ain’t Dogton.”

  “No, it’s not,” Kaitar agreed. “But you’re still a scout. You’re supposed to have a report ready for me. Did any of the caravaneers or Scrappers hear any rumors? Anything about squatters down that way capturing some Enforcer?”

  “Listen, Kaitar, I’m doin’ my job here. I’m keeping Neiro’s water rights safe, ain’t I?” A fly buzzed
near, landed on the lip of the bottle, and rubbed its forelegs together. Gairy waved it away. “You’re the one that’s the expert about what goes on down there.”

  “Bywater Gully was Broach’s territory. A few weeks before he got killed, he told me the squatters there were getting too aggressive. Stealing caravans and harassing traders that came up the Harpers’ Trail. That sort of shit. I was out by—”

  “Sounds like you already know the story, then.”

  Leigh glared at him as she and Senqua removed the lid from the second barrel. “But you don’t. Why didn’t you answer your Veraleid when Neiro was trying to contact you?”

  Kaitar jumped as the lid thudded against the dust. Gairy laughed, whiskey burning up his nose; the way the color drained right back out of the far scout’s face was damned amusing.

  “No word from the Scrappers about anything happening south of Pirahj?” Kaitar asked, regaining his composure. “Put the whiskey down and talk to me. This isn’t some routine trek checking the west trails. We’re heading to Pirahj for a team of Scrappers and I’ve got to scout them into Bywater. What have you heard out here?”

  Pirahj? They don’t know about . . . well, fuck it anyway. Not my problem.

  Gairy pushed a dark, curly strand of hair from his forehead, tucking it back under his hat. “I’m telling you, I ain’t heard. No word about Gren or squatters, neither. If I’d have known about him, I wouldn’t have asked, would I? I’ll give you some advice though,” he went on, eyeing the Shyiine. “If it were me out on this one, I’d turn right back around and go tell Neiro it’s a lost cause. Better to pull out of that area. Just reroute the caravans to the Far Trail. Cut the losses.”

  Kaitar ripped the bottle from his hand and hurled it against the shack. Glass shattered, glittering in the sun as shards fell to the whiskey-soaked sand. Black rage broiled through Gairy's chest as he stared at the spot.

  “Kaitar . . . !” Leigh marched forward several paces. “Get back in the rover!”

  Neither man looked at her.

  “Katey, c’mon,” Romano muttered. “Gairy said he hasn’t heard anything.”

  “He didn’t hear anything because he didn’t answer any of the fucking calls!” Kaitar jabbed a finger into Gairy's chest; the far scout’s face held no trace of fear, only disgust. “You’ve been sitting here with a thumb up your ass and that bottle of piss in your face, haven’t you? If anyone did come this way and mention it, you were probably too drunk to remember.”

  Gairy’s empty hands curled into fists. “I could break you over my knee, you brown son of a bitch. The fuck did you even come here for? To strut around and lecture me? Make fun of me? Well, let me tell you . . . my daddy used to be able to haul one of you scrawny Shyiine slaves under each arm. When it came time to toss them in the dirt, he’d say, ‘Two wide and four deep, boy, that’s all you need for one of these little bastards.’ And he was right.”

  “And we’d need a grave eight wide and eight feet deep for your fat Druen ass, Gairy,” Senqua quipped.

  The far scout’s lip twitched. Gairy hoped he would snark back with some caustic remark, or go for the knives at his belt. Anything to give him a valid reason to smash that pointy nose right in and break every sharp tooth out of that snide mouth. Instead, the Shyiine turned away and stalked toward the pump.

  “Not so tough now, are you? All those stories about you in the fighting pits? Bunch of bullshit, I bet. Slithered right away like a little snake, afraid a boot was going to stomp you.”

  Kaitar didn’t look back.

  Senqua moved aside as he approached. “Kaitar, the only news I’ve heard is no one’s using the Harpers’ Trail lately. Everyone’s been using the Far Trail. Maybe Neiro and the other border mayors made that an order after Gren went missing. I don’t know for sure.”

  Kaitar nodded as he busied himself filling a canteen. Ignoring Leigh's hard look as she fitted a lid back into place, Gairy reached for another bottle and took a deep swallow. His anger simmered back down into apathy, and he considered mentioning a word about what was going on between Pirahj and Glasstown, if only for Romano Vargas’s sake. He didn’t like Leigh much, though she wasn’t nearly as intolerable as Kaitar Besh. Romano, on the other hand, was an all right guy; it would be a shame if he got hurt.

  “Gairy,” Leigh called. “Come and help us with these. They’re too heavy for us to lift back into the Draggin. You and Romano will have to do it. You don’t have any report to give us, but I’m certain Neiro would at least expect some cooperation with loading our gear before we go.”

  He grunted, shoulders rising and falling in a careless shrug. “Fine. Romano, you got this with me?”

  “Yeah, here. Let me pull the Draggin around so we don’t have to roll them.” Romano backed the vehicle toward the pump. “Oh, you got an extra few bottles of that whiskey, by the way? I might need a nip on the way back from Pirahj. Traveling with Katey and Leigh is enough to make me want to drink.”

  Gairy smirked as he tucked the bottle into his duster pocket. “Yeah, I can imagine, but I’m runnin’ low right now. Tell you what. You swing by this way after you drop them off at Pirahj—”

  If you get back from there at all . . .

  “—and I might have another crate by then. There’s a trader that comes by this way every two weeks that always has some, and he’s about due to show up any day.” He wrapped his massive arms around the barrel, bending at the knees as Romano slid from the Draggin. “Take the bottom edge of that. Yeah, good. Now lift.”

  What muscle lurked beneath the layer of fat bunched under the strain. Romano’s added push gave enough leverage to slide the barrel into the back of the rover. The Draggin’s frame bobbed under the weight, tires sinking into the sand a quarter inch.

  “Let’s see a Shyiine do that.” Gairy winked at Senqua and Kaitar, who had both been watching silently. Kicking some ego out of them wouldn’t do the world any harm, he reckoned.

  A static whine cut the air as Leigh leaned over the Veraleid bolted to the Draggin’s dash. “Gairy Reidur reports no further information from Scrappers or caravans in the area, Captain. We’re heading to Pirahj now. Will report in tonight before we stop and relay our progress.” She switched the transmitter off, pulled herself into the backseat, and began strapping the barrels into place. “Gairy, if you do hear anything, radio Orin immediately. And answer any calls that come in.”

  “That an order?”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder Romano wants a drink. Hell, I’d almost give him a bottle if I weren’t so low, just so he could deal with you two.”

  Senqua nudged Kaitar with an elbow. “Can you radio in again and ask Neiro to let me go? I’m not learning anything here with Gairy. I want to help the three of you find Gren.” She motioned to the shack. “I have my nilaj bow and I can drive a rover, too, if you need.”

  Before the scout could make a response, Leigh spoke. “We don’t have the supplies or room for four. Romano is only driving us so far as Pirahj. From there, we’ll be traveling with Scrappers.”

  “We can leave Katey here.” Romano flashed a broad smile at Senqua. “I think she should go. Katey and Gairy can stay here and guard the well for Neiro. Or throw whiskey bottles at each other.”

  Some of the pity Gairy felt for the man twisted into annoyance, but even that irritation was nothing compared to the loathing he felt for Kaitar Besh. He took off his hat, beat it against his thigh, and then jammed it onto his head once more. “Hey, Besh? Go fuck yourself. Take Senqua with you. All she does is bitch and moan anyway. The two of you would get along great.”

  “If it were up to me, we would take her, and we’d still get more done with all our bitching and moaning than you ever would.” Kaitar swung into the front passenger seat, tilting his head at the Shyiine woman. “Learn to ride a mule or a horse first, Senqua. It’ll serve you better than these damned machines.”

  She nodded. “Maybe I will. When you get back from this mission, you could teach me.”

  �
��All right. If I get back from this one, I’ll teach you. Heh, I’ll warn you now. . . I’m not a very patient teacher.”

  “I don’t care. I want to learn, and it won’t happen here at this well.”

  “Let’s go,” Leigh said, cutting the conversation short. “There’s nothing more to do here. We’re wasting time.”

  Romano jammed the rover into gear. “Can we take Senqua anyway and—”

  “No. Drive.”

  The rover pulled away, tires throwing sand from the added weight of the full water barrels. As the vehicle picked up speed, heading west, the dust became so thick Gairy could no longer see it at all. Then, a gust of wind scattered the cloud, leaving only a faint track behind.

  He lowered himself down onto the well, found the bottle in his pocket, and drank deeply. When he wiped his beard, a few droplets clung to his hand. Gairy sucked at his palm. The mingled flavors of liquor, dirt, and sweat tasted like paradise.

  Senqua glared at him. “Why are you such an asshole?”

  “Why are you such a bitch? Never gave you a reason to treat me like dirt, but you do anyway. Everyone does.”

  “Are you sure you never gave me a reason? Think hard on that.” She stomped inside the shack, slamming the door so hard the hinges nearly broke.

  Was it because of my old man? How long do I have to lie in his grave before people let him die? Or me . . . is it me that has to die?

  The flies buzzed again, landing on his shoulders. Swarming. Sucking moisture. Some of them dove too close, dropped into the water, struggled, and died there.

  Maybe I do. Just fall right back. Right here. Deep enough to drown a hundred Druen, or a thousand Shyiine.

  He took another drink, sweating through the long afternoon.

  The Prisoner

  The ground smashed into Zres, tearing him from sleep and thrusting him into the waking world. Mi’et’s piebald face snarled down at him as a mangled hand clamped on his shoulder, pinning him. The half-breed’s grip was an iron band despite the missing fingers.