The sun was dipping behind the volcano when Tikaya turned off the main road and onto the dirt path heading up to a small bungalow nestled beneath coconut trees. A much larger rectangular building lay behind it, banging sounds and pulsing lights emanating from within.
Tikaya parked the bicycle and knocked on the workshop door. The bangs stopped, though the lights continued to escape through the windows, a mixture of blues and greens.
“What?” came Grandpa’s crotchety voice.
Despite the uninviting opening, Tikaya turned the knob and poked her head inside. “Grandpa? It’s Tikaya. Do you have a moment?”
A few seconds passed before Grandpa asked, “That joratt mongrel with you?”
She bristled at the slur, but knew it was pointless to correct him. Her mother had been trying for decades. “It’s just me.”
“Good. You throw him back in the ocean yet?”
“He’s moved into a place of his own in town.” Not exactly evading the question...
Grandpa grunted.
Tikaya let herself in. She had to weave past tables, cabinets, and waist-high toolboxes before finding him in a back corner, hunched over a workbench with a mallet and a chisel. Barefoot, with his shirt buttoned askew, he might, at first glance, appear senile, or at least forgetful, but Tikaya knew he was too caught up in his work to care about dressing. At least he was wearing pants today. With Grandma passed on, one never knew what state of civility—or lack thereof—one would find him in when visiting his home.
The tendons on the backs of his gnarled hands leapt as he carved an axe handle from a piece of driftwood. An obsidian blade lay next to it, the oily black stone imbued with a faint blue sheen. Though he could make energy sources such as Rias needed, Grandpa specialized in Making enhanced farm tools. Few finished pieces adorned the workshop; his implements were widely sought and tended to be purchased before he’d done more than sketched a design.
A communication orb sat on a pedestal by the end of the workbench. Usually dust or a cloth covered it, but not this time. Tikaya wondered who Grandpa had been talking to of late.
“You’re too good for some Turg dog, girl.” He leaned closer to his axe handle, squinting. He had spectacles somewhere, but he always refused to wear them.
“What are you working on?” Tikaya asked instead of responding to his suspicions. Grandma had been the only one to succeed in changing his mind about things, and even her victories had been rare.
“Axe for the Uluoe place.”
“It’s a handsome blade. You’ve imbued it with strength and sharpness?”
“That’s right.” When finished, Grandpa’s stone implements were as strong as those made from Turgonian steel, and the blades never rusted or grew dull. “You need to chop anybody’s sugar cane off, you come see me for the appropriate tool.”
Tikaya knew he was referring to Rias, but she thought of that bastard, Sergeant Ottotark who’d harassed her all through the mission. “I wish I’d had one while I was being dragged around by those marines.”
For the first time, Grandpa tore his gaze from his work. His blue eyes, still sharp despite his ninety years, bore into her as his hand clenched about the haft of the axe-in-progress. “Did those animals touch you?”
Though her first thought was of Captain Bocrest smashing her against the wall, she knew he meant more personal touching. “One tried, but I doused him in kerosene and threatened to light him on fire.”
Grandpa’s eyes grew round. For a moment, he only stared, but then he laughed. “Good, good, I wouldn’t have guessed you had that sort of gumption in you, girl, but that’s good.”
Tikaya wondered if her mother would think so if she knew. Perhaps in Ottotark’s case, she would approve, but what of the men she’d shot and killed during the escapade? What would Mee Nar think if he knew she’d killed Nurians? Granted, the assassins had been after her, to keep her from helping the Turgonians, but she’d killed people nonetheless.
“Grandpa, I’d rather not talk any more about what happened out there. I want to put my life back together and return to my research.” And figure out a way to make Rias a part of that life and that research. She didn’t mention that.
“That’s good. Your mother was concerned when you were working our fields with the hands instead of at school, studying and teaching.”
“I know. I’m ready to begin again. And, to help with my research, there’s something I need.” Tikaya took a deep breath, afraid he’d immediately guess her reason for the request. “Would you be willing to Make an energy source of sufficient means to power a... small ship?”
Grandpa propped a fist against his hip. “A ship? Don’t you do your work at the Polytechnic?”
“Yes, but I told Ri—. Uhm, there are a lot of unsolved puzzles and mysteries out there in the field, old ruins and artifacts too large to bring back here to study. I wish to take Rias to them, to see if we can make headway where other teams have failed. He has unique skills that—”
“Take Ri-as,” Grandpa snarled, saying the name the same way he spat out his racial slurs. “You came here to ask me to craft something to help that murderer? To complete his underwater spy boat?”
“Grandpa, he was a marine, not a murderer, and he’s neither now. He’s done with the empire. He wants to help me with my work.” And who had told Grandpa about the submarine plans? Tikaya glanced at the communication orb.
“Why can’t he build a normal ship then? Why does he want to snoop around underwater?”
“So we can evade the nations who’d shoot him simply because he was a Turgonian marine once.”
“Not a marine,” Grandpa said. “The marine who caused all our grief.”
“If you asked him what really went on back at the beginning of the war, you might be surprised. Our president might not even be alive if not for him.”
For a heartbeat, puzzlement drew Grandpa’s thin, white brows together, but he shook his head again. “What he told you and what happened aren’t likely the same things.”
“Fine, we’ll have to disagree on that.” Tikaya glanced toward a window—daylight was dwindling, and she needed to bicycle to town for the midnight infiltration of the library she’d planned. She hoped Rias showed up to infiltrate with her. Not only did he seem the type to have more experience with such things, but she missed him. “Is there no chance you’ll Make an energy source? For me?”
His only answer was to glower and fold his arms across his chest.
Tikaya sighed. This had been a waste of time. She’d have to ask the mother of the ex-fiancé she’d left back in the frozen north with a passel of vengeful Turgonian marines while she had returned home with her new lover. That would be a fun conversation, oh, yes.
She was relieved she could justify putting it off for another day. There was a library waiting for a midnight visitor.
CHAPTER 8
The midnight moon and stars provided enough light to bicycle down the road toward town, but not enough to keep Tikaya from finding ruts and divots with her wheels. After falling into the grass twice, and dumping the lantern out of the knapsack she carried three times, she parked on the outskirts of the city and walked the last mile to the Polytechnic campus. A handful of whale oil lanterns burned along the street dividing it from the historic homes of the original colony, but shadows lay thick around the library, classrooms, and research buildings. Paths and roads wound through low vegetation, leading to doors and courtyards. The ground cover was kept clipped within a few inches, so wouldn’t offer many hiding spots for someone sneaking toward the buildings.
Tikaya circled to the back half of the campus where she found a tree-dotted route. Using the palms and jackfruits to hide her, she veered toward the library. She didn’t expect company out there, but one never knew. Besides, lamps burned behind a handful of windows in the research buildings, promising that a few souls remained there late. The library, fortunately, stood in darkness, including the second-story wing she wished to visit.
When
she reached the last of the trees, Tikaya paused to check in all directions. A heartbeat before she stepped out onto the open path, a soft rustling reached her ears.
She froze. Rias?
She’d mentioned midnight infiltrations, on the chance he could escape, but she didn’t think evading Yosis would be easy. Besides, she’d wager a Turgonian marine could sneak through the night without rustling. If someone was out here, it probably wasn’t he.
Hugging the nearest tree, Tikaya peered in the direction from which she had come. High above, the palm fronds waved softly. Maybe she had simply heard fallen leaves being stirred by the breeze?
Another crunch sounded, as if someone had stepped on a leaf. Definitely not the wind. She eased around to the other side of the tree, thinking she might need to abort her breaking-and-entering attempt.
“Fruiting darkness,” someone cursed. Someone familiar.
“Ell?” Tikaya whispered.
“’Kaya?”
“Over here.” She shook her head as a dark shape eased into view. “What are you doing here?”
“Following you. What are you doing here?” The smoke smell clinging to Elloil’s clothing identified him as much as his voice.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about,” Tikaya said. “Why were you following me?”
“I was out on the lanai, enjoying a smoke, when I saw someone shimmy down the drainpipe from the rooftop above. I figured it was one of the boys sneaking out. Imagine my surprise when this glint of moonlight reflected off your spectacles.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Didn’t I? Huh.”
“Ell!” Tikaya’s exasperated whisper came out louder than she intended. After glancing about to make sure they were still alone, she lowered her voice and asked again, “Why are you following me?”
“Your mother made me.”
Tikaya leaned against a tree for support. She’d thought... Well, it had seemed that Mother was the closest thing she had to an ally in this. “Why?”
“She’s worried about you. She doesn’t want you going to the docks or the Pernicious Miasma at night where you’ll—” Ell propped his fists on his hips and attempted a feminine pitch to his voice, “—get mauled by transients or stolen by another batch of villainous kidnappers. Those Turgonian brutes haven’t got any reason to like her, you know.” He dropped his arms and let his voice return to normal. “I didn’t want to, but she made me promise to keep an eye on you. She said I wouldn’t be invited to any more family dinners if I didn’t. Oh, and I could forget about the money she’d promised to invest in my surfing business.”
Tikaya rubbed her face. At least Mother’s concerns seemed to revolve around her daughter traipsing through questionable neighborhoods, not visiting Rias. “Was it the food threat or the money threat that motivated you most?”
“She’s a really good cook. And I’m still looking for a lady love who’ll make victuals for me.”
“You could learn to make them yourself.”
“Were you not there when I almost lit the kitchen on fire with a pile of lemons?”
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten about that. Though technically, weren’t you trying to turn the lemons into a battery, not a food dish?”
“Yes, but I took the smoking dish towels as a sign that I wasn’t meant to spend time in kitchens.” Ell waved at the Polytechnic buildings. “If I’d known you were coming to work, I would have stayed on the lanai. I was enjoying a particularly fine smoke.”
“As long as you’re here,” Tikaya said, “you can help.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m going to sneak into a locked-off wing of the library. If you see anyone coming, I’d appreciate it if you’d warn me. Toss a pebble against the window or some such.”
“You’re going to sneak into a locked building?”
“Yes, why is that so shocking?”
“You’ve never done anything mildly illicit,” Ell said. “Is Rias coming?”
“I’m not sure he’ll be able to get away.”
“Then how are you planning on getting in?”
Tikaya sniffed. “I’ve decrypted messages encoded by the brightest military minds in the world. I think I can thwart a simple door lock.”
“You haven’t a notion of how to bypass one, do you?”
“I brought a couple of hairpins. That’s always enough in adventure stories.”
“I’ll just get comfortable then.” Ell sat at the base of a tree, making a show of settling in. “Don’t be afraid to give up. I want to hit the nine o’clock waves tomorrow.”
“Oh, please. With your nocturnal inhaling and imbibing practices, you’re never out there before noon anyway.”
“True enough.” Ell waved for her to continue about her business.
After giving the grounds another check for activity, Tikaya trotted to the back door of the library. As part of the faculty, she had a key for it, so she needn’t worry about Ell witnessing her fumbling attempts at lock picking. Or so she thought. In the darkness, she dropped the key twice before finding the hole. She didn’t hear Ell’s snickers, but she had no trouble imagining them.
As Tikaya slipped inside the hallway, cool air caressed her cheeks. Without any light coming through the windows at the ends, the lava rock walls seemed pitch black. She paused to listen. Nothing stirred. Though she had a lantern, she felt her way along, not yet wanting to risk a light, not with other people up late, working on campus. After years spent at the Polytechnic, she could find her way in the dark anyway.
She crept past several doors, running her hands along the book-filled cases that lined the walls on one side. When the books ended, she knew she’d reached the stairs. She eased up them and passed through two archive rooms on her way to the Oceanography Wing. She padded around in the darkness until she found the doorknob. It was still locked with the sign hanging above it.
Tikaya slipped her knapsack off her shoulder and dug out the lantern. A few minutes later, she knelt before the door, a puddle of light illuminating the area as she poked and prodded in the lock with her hairpins. Reluctantly, she admitted that she didn’t know what she was doing. Maybe she should have asked Ell to come up with her. He’d probably laid siege to a few secured doors as a youth. Or perhaps even more recently.
Tikaya knelt back, giving the door another once over. The hinges were on the outside. She hadn’t thought to bring a chisel or screwdriver. “Ell’s right, you’re terribly inexperienced at this,” she whispered. Maybe she could try Rias’s tactic of using the lantern flame. Could she use the heat to loosen the hinges so they’d be easy to pop? There’d be no way to hide that someone had been there if she left the door leaning against the wall, but maybe she could put everything back together so the tampering wouldn’t be too noticeable.
She stood, intending to give it a try, when a voice behind said, “It looks like a four-pin tumbler. Challenging for the tools you have, but not impossible.”
After nearly kicking over her lantern in surprise, Tikaya spun and grinned. A few steps away, Rias leaned against the wall, as if he’d been watching for a while. He wore the same dubious clothing he’d had on that morning, though he’d added footwear: bamboo thongs with woven vine straps. Awful. But they only made her grin more widely, and she strode toward him, lifting her arms for an embrace. She did pause halfway through the motion to check behind him. The hallway was empty.
“I left him sleeping,” Rias said and stepped toward her for a hug and a heated kiss that suggested he wasn’t happy spending the nights apart either, especially with Yosis as his only alternative for companionship. When he drew back, Tikaya made a mew of protest, having forgotten where they were and what the priority was.
Rias tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know how long my keeper will stay asleep, so we’d better hurry. I’m sure he can track me through this.” He raised his wrist, displaying the glowing red stone set in the bracelet. “Unfortunately, it’s proved more difficult to remov
e than Turgonian shackles.”
Sighing, Tikaya drew back. “Yes, of course. Thank you for risking the trip.”
“You’re welcome.” He tilted his head toward the door. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”
She thought of his kiss and what she’d like to put on the agenda, but said, “Research. It’s good that you’re here. This section of the library is huge, and I’m not sure what exactly we’re looking for. Having a research assistant will be helpful.”
“Research assistant?” Rias took the hairpins from her and bent them into new shapes. “I see my former career counts for little, and I’m going to have to start over at the bottom in this new field.”
The gleam in his eyes suggested he was more amused than offended, so Tikaya teased him with, “If you do a good job making the morning coffee, I’ll see if I can get you a promotion.”
Rias held up the two hairpins, now contorted into unrecognizable shapes. “This is your torque wrench and your pick.” He knelt before the door. “I’ll handle this since we’re pressed for time, but I’ll explain what I’m doing in case you want to try picking a lock later. I’ve found it to be a useful life skill.”
Tikaya recalled the numerous times on their journey that he’d escaped Captain Bocrest’s prisons and shackles. “When,” she asked, holding the lantern to shed light for him, “did a stalwart, law-abiding, military officer have occasion to learn to pick locks?”
“My familiarity with locking mechanisms began with one of my mother’s favorite lectures, the one that always ended with, ‘If you took it apart, you can blasted well put it back together again.’ As to the picking, my older brothers found my youthful curiosity irritating at times and had a tendency to lock me in closets, cupboards, and storage chests. It vexed them terribly when I appeared at the supper table none the worse for the experience. The skill was thus worth mastering for that reason alone.”
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