by Scott Rhine
Pinetto scratched his head. “How many men can fit on one of the pirate ships?”
Nesu shrugged. “Forty on a smaller cutter. They’ll know sea combat and swimming better than the Imperials. The Pretender’s troops are great on land, but useless packed into a bathtub.”
“Still, we’re fighting four hundred swordsmen per enemy ship; to take one enemy warship, we’d need at least ten. To take the whole fleet, maybe as many as fifty ships. With special weapons and a few Dawn creatures, we could reduce that a little.”
The old man held up a hand. “Then you need a big cover story. Rebuilding a temple with butter-soaked balsa wood or something.”
“Butter?” Sarajah snickered.
“The more outrageous you seem, the more they discount and ignore you,” Nesu said. “The cover story should also give us an excuse to hunt in the waters of the Antarean rift.”
“Rebuilding the emperor’s zoo?” suggested the former gamekeeper, speaking for the first time since boarding the ship.
“Close. Something exotic and elusive.”
“The sea unicorn?”
“Wouldn’t take fifty ships.”
“What if we’re looking for a rare sun bear and we need to transport the entire tree they live in to plant at the zoo.”
“Good. We could bring a whole forest.”
Pinetto mused, “If they’re the type that produce the resin that makes Sacred Amber, the emperor could actually use them. I seem to remember an earlier emperor importing pines from the south when he made the Emperor’s Road. As far as I know, they all burned down in the Scattering.”
“Perfect,” said Nesu. “Can you make me an old-looking parchment that has a legend about the emperor’s reign ending when the last pine tree dies?”
The wizard chuckled. “I’ll make it look authentic, even like it was plucked from the furnace of the great fire.”
“We’ll put a proper amount of larceny in your soul yet.”
“What kind of weird costume should I make?” asked Pinetto.
“You’re weird enough already. Why do you tie that ring around your forehead?”
“It’s my wedding ring. I want to remember my marriage every day and charge the tiger’s-eye stone in sunlight.”
“Why so often?”
“Because one day, I’ll have to descend into darkness again, and I’ll need it to guide me out.”
Nesu turned to Sarajah. “The high priestess—don’t mention the word queen to anyone—should cook up something truly flamboyant.”
She nodded. She closed her eyes, and suddenly, her cloak became a bloom of peacock feathers, complete with earrings and a huge ostrich-feather headpiece. The men in the room stopped breathing. Tashi stared at the two fans that barely covered her chest. “You like?”
The panther growled. Pinetto coughed.
“Impressive,” Tashi panted.
Nesu’s eyes bugged. “Sensational. How?”
“I just imagined something Lady Evershade wore to seduce Pagaose and exaggerated, eliminating the rules of good taste and fashion.”
Enjoying the effect the outfit was having on Tashi, she reached out for his hand. “Let’s discuss this in the cargo hold.”
They never left the crowded room. The moment her bare skin touched his, he sank to his knees in pain. A blood stain spread across the inseam of his pants. She fussed over him, but he waved her away. “Don’t touch me. Your mother’s curse. The claw wound reopens when . . . ouch.”
“But I’ve touched you since then.”
“Not when my sails were full. And seeing you bend over in that dress is filling them again, gods help me.”
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Damn my mother’s meddling.”
“That’s a cool chastity spell when you think about it,” whispered Pinetto.
The panther said, “I can keep her safe when she visits the embassy, no charge. This will be worth the entertainment value.”
“I can go after a few hours under the lens,” Tashi insisted, grunting in pain.
“And tell them what? It’s your time of the month? That’s more than a little eccentric,” said Nesu.
Tashi glared at the indignity, but said nothing.
****
When they landed at Wayside, Tashi stayed onboard to heal again and guard the plague-runner who refused to offer a drop of blood or allegiance. Pinetto played the eccentric assistant to the hilt, inventing all manner of protocol for the high priestess. Once men with flowers lined the streets, she walked down the ramp and took everyone’s breath away.
The ambassador held a feast for her that lasted well into the night. As soon as he heard that the Prefect was alive and the new emperor was resisting Sandarac, he sent a runner to King Borchart with the message, “The Pretender lied. Don’t surrender to Sandarac! We’re winning.”
In gratitude for saving them from certain disaster at the hands of Sandarac, the ambassador sent two skilled arborists with the expedition to help harvest the trees. “We specialize in grapevines, but these men brought pear trees into the valley to help give our wine its distinctive bouquet.”
Three hours after the meal began, during the after-dinner wine, Lady Jolia, the Regent’s consort, arrived.
“It is you!” squealed the tall courtesan from Silverton.
“You look fantastic,” cooed Sarajah. “Tall, dark, and handsome must agree with you.”
The pale-haired Jolia waggled her eyebrows. “An attentive man feels good for a change.”
Old friends, the ladies reminisced till dawn. Jolia promised to give Sarajah and her trees safe passage through Zanzibosian territory, despite any orders Sandarac may have given to detain her.
Chapter 36 – The Crooked Isle
Soon after sunrise, Sarajah returned to the Mallard, and Jolia waved good-bye from the bridge. While Tashi pushed away from the docks with a long, hooked pole, he grumbled about the delay. Sarajah winced. “Relax and please don’t yell so much.”
“You weren’t so quiet last night; I could hear the laughter from the docks,” her favored complained.
“Yeah, but now I have a headache. Jolia drinks like a sponge. She weighs a lot more than I do, and she’s used to wine. I’ve really never tried much before. It was wonderful. They had so many flavors. I had to pee twice.”
“Don’t worry, I followed her and kept a close eye on things,” the Dawn creature said smugly.
Even invisible, Tashi managed to grab the panther’s ear and twist. The two wrestled for a time; although his legs were slashed by rear claws, Tashi kept his grip and demanded, “Apologize to the lady!”
Holding her hands to the sides of her throbbing temples, Sarajah said, “Please, he’s trying to make you crazy. Don’t listen to him. What’s the big deal? I’m the one who got ogled and I’m fine.”
Releasing the panther, Tashi sat on the ground. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Everyone gets to see your body but me. It’s not fair.”
Anger flared in her eyes and she stood over him. “Your teacher, the emperor, has half a dozen girls waiting to service him, and he’s waiting until spring. Can’t you wait a couple months for me?”
The panther was no longer laughing; rather, he left to avoid getting caught in the middle of this argument. Pinetto backed into the wheelhouse. “I’m going to check on a chart.”
“I’ve waited months for you already!” he shouted. “First it was wait until after the battle, then after you’re a troll, then after you rub me all over with oil . . .” He stared at her chest, peeking through feathers at eye level. “All right, that part was fun . . . Where was I?”
She gripped the bulge at the front of his new pants. “Just because you get one of these, I’m not worth the wait?”
He groaned. Muddled from the wine, she said, “Hold on. Nothing happened that time.” A slow smile spreading across her face, she ordered, “You need a lesson on who’s in charge. Into the hold.”
Once in the dark cargo area, she experimented as Tashi bit his forearm.
“Hmm. Seems I can do anything I want as long as we don’t touch skin to skin.” She gave a throaty chuckle. “Hands behind your head, Mister. The queen of the pirates is holding you up.”
The more agonized noises he made, the more she laughed. He backed into a crate, knocking it off the stack. Oats hissed onto the floor. “I want to kiss you . . . bite you . . . taste you,” he begged.
“Uh-uh-uh,” she teased, breathing heavily near his ear. “These are the rules of the night visit.”
Loosened feathers flew everywhere in the compartment as they explored the limits of their clothing.
****
Hindaloo heard every sound from his makeshift cell in the hold. Straining his shackles so far that they bit into his skin, he could see Sarajah’s every writhing movement. He resolved in that moment to take her for himself, whatever he had to do. At the first opportunity, he meekly begged to see the wizard and provided a blood sample, which tested negative for supernatural influence.
****
After catching up on sleep, the group met to discuss strategy for approaching the Crooked Isle. Sarajah’s cloak had transformed into silk pajamas with sleeves that extended past the end of her hands. Holding hands with Tashi through the fabric, the queen didn’t seem to pay much attention to the proceedings. At one point, Pinetto said, “If they need someone to feed to the wild animals, we’ll draw straws.”
She just nodded, blissfully.
The wizard stared at her. “We’ll post signs about the cat running away when we get there.”
This startled her into alertness.
“Just kidding, but you should say something to the crew. We all had to pretend we didn’t know what the thumping was down below.”
Clearing her throat, she announced to the group, “I proclaim today Corrie Evershade day in my kingdom. All captive vixens shall be freed from their cages, no matter how naughty they’ve been. Baba Nesu, in gratitude for her services to the crown, I would like to procure a large quantity of gossamer for our return trip to Center. Six yards ought to do, and another six for me.”
The old man bowed. “As you wish, majesty. The fabric may be obtained for about a sesterina a yard.”
“I think it’s worth it,” she said, and Tashi nodded fervently. She passed over a gemstone to the businessman. “Make sure to get some information to go with the fabric.”
Pinetto held back a smile. “May I remind you that for this portion of the voyage, you are only high priestess and seeress for the church?”
She sighed. “Then I name her honorary handmaiden and tell everyone the fabric is for . . . modesty veils.”
Lord Conifer coughed into his fist.
“You take exception, sir?” asked the seeress.
“No, highness. I should think Lady Evershade being honored by a former archfiend for her services will speak for itself.”
Sarajah drew herself up. “Despite her flaws, the lady is driven by love, family, and strives for redemption in the face of desperate odds.” She scanned the faces of each of the men. “So are we all.”
Conifer bowed in acknowledgement.
The guards brought out Hindaloo the Despised, and he knelt before the queen, kissing her bare feet. His beard slid between her toes. “Stop. That tickles,” she giggled. “So you’ve decided to join the expedition?”
The green-eyed smuggler said, “This hunt is merely a point on our journey. I intend to join the queen. My fate is entwined with her . . . service.”
“If you run, my panther will track you down,” she threatened.
“I shall not leave your side,” he said kissing her ankle.
Pinetto changed the subject to prevent Tashi from picking a fight. “The zookeeper will be collecting bamboo cages for the sun bears he’s going to track down for us. Any other missions while we’re gathering maps and paying bribes at the exchange?”
Hindaloo said, “We’ll need bearers to carry the gear.”
Conifer said, “My men and I can handle that.”
The smuggler shook his head. “Not unless you want to attract attention. White lords don’t sweat here. They make the arkies do all the work.”
“Who?”
“That’s what they we call the Archanosians. ‘Arkies’ is shorter, just like they are. The important part is that any white man carrying something heavy is watched by the constables.”
Tashi grinned. “See, I told you he’d teach us to be proper criminals.”
Sarajah cocked her head. “I’ve been thinking.” Tashi’s face fell and he grew serious. “The church should start a mission school on the island. Pinetto, do we have an extra copy of the Book of Dawn?”
“We have four, madam: three plus the original.”
“Give me a set to leave here, then. We need to educate boys and girls so they can read and copy our fine Books of the Dawn. However, we will attempt to encourage independent thinking. When we land, point out what the highborn ladies wear and I’ll adopt their costume before exploring.”
Nesu gestured down and outward. “The dresses are so long and billow so much that they require a servant to follow behind to keep them out of the mud. The more bows on the dress and parasol, the more important the woman.”
She smiled at this. “And gloves, no doubt. In this oppressive heat, they cover themselves in as much fabric as possible.”
“Indeed. Why do you need such a disguise?”
“A widow’s home in need of repair should provide a good base of operations. I can tell within a few minutes if a woman has the necessary acuity and is amenable to our cause.”
“There are several such dwellings in the garden sector,” Nesu said. “The main port is dedicated to housing the garrison and transport business. To the eastern edge of the arc, above the flood zone but below the explosion of rainforest green, is a ribbon of the oldest homes on the island—Worthy Road. Many respected people retire there, some who treat the native servants well. In my day, one or two were freed women whom the locals trust.”
Sarajah nodded. “I’ll find some ladies who can be discreet. If we’re going to have a revolution some day, we need people who can read and add to run the country.”
“It would take at least a decade before enough people could be trained,” said Nesu.
“We are patient,” she replied. “The church of Archanos will be a charity, the source of second chances. I have over thirty years in gems, and I’m willing to dedicate half to this endeavor. Now we plant seeds. After the emperor is saved, we return to water them. When the crop is ripe, we harvest.”
The old black-marketeer stared at her. “You seem sincere.”
“Because I am. I want all the children of my land to have a better life. As soon as feasible, I intend to abolish slavery entirely.”
Baba Nesu jerked back. “This will mean bloodshed.”
She leaned forward. “You’ve felt the shackles and the lash; so have I. Don’t you want to set everyone free? The whole world?”
She could see on his face that he did. She had pierced the old reprobate’s shell at last.
Nesu asked, “Would you have room in this congregation for an old criminal who could proclaim to all that he’d seen the error of his ways and found peace in your organization?”
“Have you?”
“If we can do what you say, I might.”
“Are you just saying this so I let you stay on the Crooked Isle?”
Nesu smiled. “That’s what I’ll tell my underworld contacts, but I was a slave for twenty years. I have children who still are. Anyone who would set them free deserves my allegiance, your highness.”
****
There were three barges loading in the harbor. Two cutters guarded each. The Mallard was small enough to dock with the pleasure yachts. The stone fortress on the hill dominated the harbor. A government coracle led them to an appropriate place on the docks and the man on deck shouted, “Have your papers ready.”
Pinetto squeaked to Nesu, “We stole this ship. We don’t have papers!”
“We picked the right man,” Pinetto replied. “I’m going to go meditate. Between the stress and being near three borders, I’m having trouble keeping a lid on all this energy.”
“Four countries. The plague-lands begin over there,” Nesu said, pointing to the horizon.
Pinetto’s hand quivered. “I’m going to boil some tea.”
Nesu met with the soldiers to handle the mooring fees and other “taxes.” After a cursory cargo inspection for contraband weapons, they were issued a dock permit. The inspector objected briefly to the number of metal darts, but Nesu explained, “We’re allowed two weapons per person in these waters without needing a dealer permit or military exemption. We’re within those limits, and none of them violate size restrictions.”
The inspector grumbled, “Each time you dock here, you’ll need another inspection to prevent transportation of plague materials.” He quoted prices for docking, and Nesu paid for a month in advance.
“Why so long?” hissed Sarajah.
“This island is the biggest I know of and centrally located, making it an ideal base. Furthermore, a month’s rent costs the same as two individual weeks plus the bribe for a good spot. Do you think this search will take less than two weeks?” Nesu asked.
“No,” she admitted.
The inspector looked down his nose at Sarajah. “Women are only trouble on a ship.”
“She’s the owner; it’s her expedition.”
The inspector sniffed. “Be warned: in port, there should be no unescorted women. Sailors make assumptions about the profession of such. Also, women should not speak before being spoken to.”
Tashi had to pull Sarajah aside and hold her back while the soldiers moved on to a coracle in the next berth. “It’s cultural, not personal. You can’t kill them all.”
