Decrypted

by Lindsay Buroker

  Tikaya tamped down a smile. “And do you read them?”

  “Of course not.”

  “That one has a bookmark in it.”

  “What? Oh, it must have come already inserted. No doubt some lewd passage to which the captain wished to draw my attention.” Iweue pointed to the top shelf. “These are the titles I thought might interest you.”

  As Tikaya read the first one, her mouth dropped open. “Captain Starcrest in the West Markiis?” She skimmed the shelf, and her jaw sank lower and lower. There had to be more than thirty titles. “Fleet Admiral Starcrest and the Nurian Armada?”

  “That’s from later in his career. I’d start at the beginning. The ones by Lord Bearcrest are best.” Iweue plucked a book from the shelf. “Here. Lieutenant Starcrest and the Savage Saboteur.”

  Tikaya stared at the row of books. She’d known Rias was considered a hero amongst the Turgonian marines, but these stories... They implied he was a household name in the empire. There were probably children who were, at that very moment, reenacting his exploits in backyard adventures. That Turgonian metalworker’s words came to mind, the suggestion that Rias could take back what was rightfully his if he chose to stir up trouble. It might be a difficult road, but when had he ever shied away from a battle where the odds were against him? What if... What if the only reason he’d chosen not to return home was her? What if they’d never met? Would he have gone straight to marching on the capital to demand his title and rights back? Was she costing him a chance at regaining his old life?

  “What was that?” Iweue asked.

  Tikaya realized she must have muttered some of her questions aloud. “I was... wondering about the books. Are they biographical?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Just stories loosely based on actual events in the admiral’s career. The author admits he didn’t have any interaction with Starcrest—who, it sounds like, spent most of the twenty-odd years of his career at sea, making him rather unreachable—but he did do research to ensure the battles and historical events were as accurate as possible. That seems to be quite important to Turgonian readers.” Iweue selected two more novels. “Here. This is another one from when he was a lieutenant, and then the story of how he obtained his captaincy, largely by being one of the few survivors of the battle of—oh, I don’t want to spoil it for you. Why don’t you read them? How novel to think that you could actually ask him how true the adventures are, hm!”

  Tikaya stared at the books. It was bizarre to think that she knew someone—was loved by someone—who had popular novels written about his exploits. Further, he had been someone so important that an author, even a Lord something-or-other-crest, wouldn’t think to pester him for an interview to get the facts. “Have you read them all?”

  “Oh, yes. As I said, they’re romping tales. I read several books a week, you know. Especially now that I’ve retired from teaching and that the children are grown up. It can be a touch lonely in the evenings.”

  “Perhaps you should invite that Turgonian merchant captain up for tea once in a while.”

  Iweue sniffed. “Really!”

  “Forgive the insinuation.” Tikaya waved her hand. “Thank you for lending these to me. I’m certain they will be interesting to read.” Whenever she found time to break away from the rest of her research. That thought reminded her of the reason for her visit. She was about to ask after a power supply when a new thought pranced into her mind. “They didn’t... ah, do any of the adventures mention... the wife?”

  “Briefly. Mostly to describe her beauty and mention how Starcrest was pining after her during his long months at sea.”

  “Oh, please.” Tikaya doubted Rias would pine after anyone if there was even the faintest problem around to keep his mind busy.

  “Also, the authors all decided he was quite faithful to her.”

  Tikaya made a face at the books in her hands. Maybe she didn’t want to read them after all, not if they included passages of Rias waxing nostalgic on his distant wife. Well, she had asked.

  “They’re just stories, of course,” Iweue said. “They show him as a noble and honorable man, but a tricky one as well. The tactics he pursued to keep his men safe and outthink—and sometimes utterly destroy—the enemy were often cunning, sometimes unorthodox and... Let’s just say it’s clear he would be perfectly capable of fooling someone, even an intelligent someone, and it wouldn’t be any fault of hers if she fell for his tricks.”

  Just when Tikaya had thought Iweue might prove a supporter of Rias. She did not lift her gaze from the books when she asked, “Are you saying you believe Parkonis’s interpretation of events, after all?”

  “No, Tikaya, just that you should proceed with wariness. If the man still feels loyal to his emperor...”

  “He doesn’t. The reason he’s here, that he was ever in trouble to start with, was because he refused to cross certain lines for that beast. Emperor Raumesys’s mistakes are the rest of the world’s gains. Rias won’t return to him—he was offered that opportunity already and refused it. We could have him if the president would get back here, call off the College and ministers, and talk to him.”

  “Have him? Are you suggesting we start a permanent naval force?”

  “He can do more than order boats around,” Tikaya said dryly. “I’m actually here to speak to you about something he’s building and to ask... are you still Making?” Tikaya hadn’t noticed any tools littering the house the way they did her grandfather’s workshop. What if this trip had been for naught?

  “Now and then. It takes a lot out of me, and there are younger folks with as much knowledge, and they have new ideas.”

  But none of them had a reason to help Rias. “Rias needs something more compact than a boiler and furnace to power the ship he’s building.”

  “Does he now?” Iweue stroked her chin and glanced at the shelf—perhaps imagining some ship she’d had a role in building being mentioned in a future novel. “That would be... a great deal of work, but interesting work. It’s been some time since I Made an energy source for powering more than well pumps and irrigation systems. I believe I could do it, but I’ll need at least a week of uninterrupted work time.”

  “Are you willing to undertake the task?”

  “I might be, in exchange for something of value.”

  Tikaya had little money and hated the idea of asking her family for coin, especially given that nobody seemed to want her and Rias to end up together, but she’d figure out a way. She owed him... more than she could ever repay. “Such as?” Tikaya prompted.

  “I want a ride.”

  Tikaya almost dropped the stack of books. “A what?”

  “I want a ride on the ship when it’s done.”

  The submarine, Tikaya thought, but she wasn’t about to admit to that. By the time they were ready to take on passengers that secret would be out regardless.

  “I’m sure I can arrange that.” She smiled and added, “ I know the captain, after all.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Wooden surfboards rattled in a long, bamboo carrying cart attached to the back of Ell’s bicycle. He rode ahead of Rias and Tikaya, leading the way to “entirely excellent waves.” He’d invited himself along on the lava-sight-seeing trip, and Tikaya wasn’t pleased about it, not when she still wondered if someone had hired or otherwise coerced Ell into spying on them. After inquiring amongst numerous family members who lived in the house, Tikaya had learned nothing about who placed the padlock on the attic trapdoor, only that nobody knew anything about it. Mother had seemed bewildered and suggested that perhaps Grandpa had done it to keep the grandchildren from climbing up and hurting themselves on the old fishing gear. Unlikely timing, that.

  “You’re going to adore surfing, Rias,” Ell called over his shoulder.

  Rias’s only response was to exchange glances with Tikaya. When he’d shown up at her door at dawn for their “date,” he’d been wearing a hollow bamboo tube on his back, one typically used for carrying artwork or maps. Whatever he
had planned for the day, it had little to do with water sports.

  “You have to learn anyway, if you’re going to design boards,” Ell added.

  As if that were his top priority. Tikaya shook her head at her cousin’s back. She and Rias had been strolling to the bicycle shed when Ell had come racing down the path toward them, having apparently spent the night at the house. He’d asked where they were going, because he’d been planning to talk Rias into a surfing lesson that afternoon. When Tikaya had attempted to quell him with a succinct, “We’re going on a date,” he’d failed to be quelled and simply asked where. When Rias had mentioned the lava cliffs, Ell had clapped, proclaiming the waves there perfect, so he could come along and give Rias a lesson that very day.

  “The East Coast isn’t a beginner area,” Tikaya said. She didn’t want to see Rias smashed against the rocks for his trouble.

  “I know safe spots. I’ll take care of Rias. Besides, he looks like a born athlete. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  “He hasn’t seen me swim,” Rias told Tikaya.

  “I’ve seen you swim. Amidst burning shards of wood from ships you’ve recently crashed.”

  “I can wave my arms in the correct motions, but I’m not a natural. My tendency is toward sinking.”

  “If you humor him for an hour, maybe he’ll leave us alone.” And if he didn’t... that would suggest Tikaya was right in suspecting Ell, and that she’d have to figure out a way to question him. The idea of interrogating a relative didn’t appeal, so she pushed the thought aside for later contemplation. She nodded toward the basket on the back of Rias’s bicycle—it held a picnic hamper and the bamboo case. “Is the map you copied in there?”

  “Yes, and some modern ones from your physical oceanography department. I poured over them last night and have some ideas on—”

  “We’re here,” Ell announced, dropping his feet to the ground.

  Only the fact that they’d been peddling uphill kept Tikaya from crashing into the surfboard cart. She cast another exasperated look at her cousin’s back and looked for something to lean her bicycle against. There wasn’t much. The ground was nothing but black lava rock, and only a few scrubby clumps of grass grew from pockets of dirt in the crevices. Below the road, waves broke against the fifty-foot-high cliffs. They curved inward, forming an inlet, but most of the action was out in the open sea. Despite the early hour, dozens of surfers straddled their boards, waiting for waves beyond Obsidian Hollow, the name for a stretch of black sand beach at the beginning of the cliffs. A steep path wound down to it in switchbacks. Other bicycles and two runabouts were parked near the trail sign.

  “Excellent.” Rias hopped off his bicycle and took a few steps toward a point overlooking the inlet.

  “The trail down is over there.” Ell pointed at the sign.

  Rias paused. “I wish to see the sights first. Is this where the live lava spills into the sea?”

  “Yes.” Tikaya doubted he had any interest in the lava, but went along so they could fool Ell. “There are numerous spots along the cliffs. All sorts of caves dot the walls too,” she added. “There are outfits that lead tours out here for visitors. They usually end up at Squall Lodge on the other end of the cliffs. There are hot springs with mineral baths that supposedly have restorative properties.”

  Now Ell sported the exasperated expression. “Really, ’Kaya? Mineral baths? That’s where old people go. I know he’s got a few years on you, but I don’t see a cane.”

  “I do have a few old war wounds that act up from time to time.” Rias smiled. “Are these mixed-sex, clothing-optional baths?”

  “Actually they’re clothing-prohibited baths,” Tikaya said. “It’s quite the romantic spot. I went out there once with—ah, I visited once briefly.”

  Rias’s eyebrow twitched.

  “They’re romantic if you’re old.” Ell gave Tikaya a was-your-brain-damaged-during-your-kidnapping look. “And don’t mind seeing the wrinkly old bodies of the patrons. Let’s go surf.” Ell waved to the sea.

  “I will shortly,” Rias said. “I simply wish to see the lava.”

  “It’s boring,” Ell said. “Drip, smoke, drip, smoke.”

  “Yes, but I’m fascinated by volcanology, specifically the ways in which one might tap geothermal reservoirs as a source of energy. My people have drilled around the Kraftar Geysers on our mainland, finding liquid magma a hundred meters deep, and scientists posit that natural heat could be employed similarly to that which we gain from burning coal. We could power our steam machinery and warm homes in the winter without having to mine for fuel. Given our current reliance on coal stoves and hypocaust systems, such an efficient energy source would prove a great boon.”

  Ell stared as Rias spoke. At the end, he shrugged his shoulders helplessly at Tikaya. “What are you supposed to do when he goes on like that? Nod? Grunt?”

  “I’ve found that he appreciates it when you listen in enraptured appreciation and ask questions at the end.”

  “Enraptured what?” Ell blinked a few times, then shrugged again. “I’ll be in the water. Give me a wave when you’re done sightseeing and you’re ready to have some fun.”

  “Hm,” Tikaya said when Ell had peddled out of hearing. “I didn’t know you could sound so passionate about something in which you have no interest.”

  “Not no interest,” Rias said, resuming his walk toward the point. “Just little interest right now.”

  Tikaya caught up with him, wishing she’d worn something sturdier than sandals as she picked her way over the uneven black rock. The former lava fields were mostly level, but they were littered with hardened ripples, buckles, and fissures. “I was moderately certain you hadn’t brought me up here to watch plops of lava fall out of a tube.”

  “No.” Rias extended a hand to help her across a wide crack. “Though I appreciate your willingness to listen in enraptured appreciation no matter what the subject.”

  “That’s what lovers do.”

  “That... hasn’t been my experience.”

  “That must be why you came looking for me.” Tikaya stopped a few feet from the edge of the cliff. Warm wind, misty with sea spray, gusted down the coast, tugging at her long braid and ruffling the hem of her dress.

  Rias strode up to the precipice and peered over the edge. “I wasn’t looking exactly; you were just conveniently placed in an adjoining cell.”

  “But you would have looked for me if you’d known I existed, right?”

  “Oh, yes.” Rias removed the stopper from the hollow bamboo case and pulled out a rolled map. “Had I known the Kyattese cryptanalyst decoding our secret messages was a beautiful woman, I would have started sending encrypted letters of adoration along with our secret missives.”

  Tikaya choked on the idea, imagining how bewildered she would have felt deciphering something like that. “That wouldn’t have gone over well in the war room.”

  Rias grew silent after that, head bent as he studied his map. The wind whipped at the corners, trying to tear it from his hands, but he didn’t seem to notice. Tikaya knelt at the edge of the precipice, eyeing the cliffs as well as the dark blue waters beyond. Of course, nothing of the missing basin was visible from the surface. The old bathymetry maps had shown it nearly a mile off the coast and hundreds of feet deep. What Rias hoped to find in these cliffs she didn’t know.

  Tikaya returned to his side and considered the flapping parchment in his hands. The map displayed ocean currents around the main island.

  “I’m prepared to listen in enraptured appreciation any time you’re ready to share,” Tikaya said.

  Rias smiled though he continued studying the map. “Am I correct in assuming all of those caves down there have been thoroughly explored? And that archaeologists would have long since removed any significant findings?”

  “That’s likely, yes.”

  Rias returned the map to the tube. A few other papers were rolled up inside. “I want to look anyway.”

  “Look at what?”
>
  “A hunch.”

  “About what? And based on what?” Tikaya asked.

  “About... things.” He must have seen her prop her hands on her hips in exasperation, for he added, “Do you remember me mentioning a search algorithm I worked out based on tides, currents, prevailing winds, and the like?”

  Mostly she remembered Yosis zapping him with the bracelet when he started talking about it. “Something for finding wrecks, wasn’t it?”

  “Wrecks, yes, and perhaps significant amounts of flotsam and jetsam.”

  “Like you said, anything in those caves would have been discovered long ago.”

  But Rias was already returning to the bicycle. He opened the picnic hamper and pulled out climbing gear. Two lanterns and an oilskin pouch followed. What’d he have in the pouch? Matches?

  “I thought you had a romantic picnic lunch for us in there,” Tikaya said.

  “Not this time. This way,” Rias said cheerfully as he passed her, a coil of rope slung over his shoulder and a bag of jangling metal appurtenances in one hand.

  “You’re going down to the caves?” Tikaya jogged after him.

  “I thought we might go down. There are only a couple I want to check out.”

  Tikaya couldn’t bring herself to tell him that her last climbing experience—the one that had seen her poisoned by a giant practitioner-controlled bird-of-prey—hadn’t left her enamored of the sport. Not when the adventurous wink he threw over his shoulder told her how much the prospect excited him. She wouldn’t dampen his spirits.

  Rias walked nearly a half mile along the cliff tops before dropping to his belly and peering over the side. Tikaya checked to see if they’d be in view from the surfing area, should they drop a rope and descend. They didn’t need to give Ell any fodder, in case he was indeed reporting back to someone, perhaps the same someone who had been removing clues all week, someone who might find it suspicious that Rias had chosen this particular spot for his sight-seeing picnic. Tikaya couldn’t see most of the surfers and hoped most of them couldn’t see her.