“What will happen to us?”
Koda glanced at her. “I cannot tell you that.”
“But they will not look favourably upon it, will they? Not when barely half of your men come back alive.”
The water sloshed against the hull. “I imagine not.”
She did not know where Makku had disappeared to. In the long, dragging days out at sea with a contingent of surviving soldiers and sailors, nearly all of whom gazed upon the two of them with some measure of fear and resentment, he had turned more sombre and silent than she had ever seen him. In truth, she feared for him. A bright spark of sunshine like he was should not be smothered by the rain clouds that seemed to surround her. The gods have not looked favourably upon me, she mused. Perhaps that was the price of her doubt, this relentless misfortune.
“What can I expect?”
“This is a common landing place for ships crossing the Ikkulai so a lot of foreigners pass through here. There is quite a large presence of the military here, regulating those coming in and out. Mostly navy men and women, lead beneath Admiral Tawas.”
The harbour was packed with ships of all sizes, staggering frigates and tiny sloops all bobbing on the waters of the bay. Kilai couldn’t even tell where they would dock, seeing Hyrlith out of the corner of her eye guide the ship in next to a clipper carrying the violet and indigo stripes of the Sonlin Empire. Foreign territory. If she wasn’t so terrified she would have been intrigued, having long dreamed of travelling further afield than the limits of the city she had been raised within. To think it would be under such circumstances… She had gone from governess to criminal so quickly she could barely remember the difference.
“If you abandoned him I could give them my word. Show you some leniency.”
Kilai turned to look at Koda, trying to read beyond the placid expression on a square face, black hair shaven almost to the scalp and olive brown skin speaking to a life lived beneath the sun. There was a frankness to him that she appreciated, not one to mince with his words, but he was not so open in body language. He could be plotting to betray her as easily as he offered to protect her; she could not decipher the calm surface that masked whatever lurked beneath. She appreciated that even more.
“I do not abandon my own.”
“That would be a fool’s errand. You know this.”
She fixed him with a level stare. “I do know this. But what you do not know is that I have survived insurmountable odds before, because I trusted people who had my back. I do not walk away from friends.” She did not know if Ivor truly was a friend, or whether there would be any weathering the beast within him, but she did know she could not leave him here alone, to the mercy of the wolves.
“So be it. I do not know what possessed you to come this far west but I do not believe you have ill intent.”
“Intentions only carry us so far.”
Koda dipped his head. “Indeed.”
Behind them the crew busied themselves with dropping anchor, others lowering the gangway. On the pier a pair of officials marched towards them, one in a coat of the Sonlin navy and the other in a black uniform. They stopped next to the gangway, a signal that they were to come down to meet them. Kilai’s hands clasped together, slick with sweat. The remaining members looked around one another. With the captain and his second in command dead, there was no official leader. Neither Koda nor Hyrlith, both possessing their own factions of followers, had been able to establish a real foothold over the other.
Hyrlith’s boots clicked upon the deck as she marched over to them. Her short hair curled around her ears, dull silver rings hanging from each lobe. “What do you intend to do about the prisoners?”
Koda looked to her for a moment. “Shaikuro and Ranth should be shown leniency. I see no reason in wasting resources imprisoning either of them when they have only worked with us. They could have turned very easily had they so wished.”
“They have impersonated Sonlin soldiers. For all we know they could be spies!”
Kilai had to admit that she had a point. In some ways she had been, if not quite a spy, at least intending to smuggle in illicit goods. She and Makku still had Kallan’s contacts to track down and liaise with, to determine what that substance had truly been. But even if they were going to get away with their necks intact, she could not say the same for Ivor.
“Lady Shaikuro used to be the acting governess of the Yllzlo.”
“Yes, because that city did not turn into a bloodbath, did it? There was no open rebellion in the streets, no public executions? I did not take you for an utter fool, Koda.”
“A fool, perhaps.” Koda gestured to the gangway and did not react when Hyrlith hesitated. “But after what I have seen I find I am not so quick to see more die.”
“The punishment is not always death.”
Kilai watched them talk as if she wasn’t even there, nails embedding into the fleshy part of her palm inside clenched fists.
“If we are to say they are in collaboration with the criminal it most certainly will be.”
Hyrlith scowled. “I will not lie.”
“I do not ask you to.”
A voice called up to them from the pier. “We are coming to inspect your vessel. By what business do you have in Kar Anwan?”
Koda raised his brows. After a beat he leaned down. “This is the Storm Chaser, formerly led by Captain Gerad, who met his unfortunate end on our journey from the Yllaizlo to here. The intention was to ferry some of Major Jyra’s men back to the continent and to pick up our duty here, after carrying forces to General Nevi in Tsellyr.”
The man in uniform came up to greet them, climbing over to land on the deck. His hair had been shaved to the scalp much like Koda, coppery-gold in colour, and lines were starting to embed into fair skin. Small eyes darted around the ship and Kilai tried to not react when they skimmed over her before falling once more on Koda. “I am Major Graw. Who is in charge here?”
Koda and Hyrlith exchanged a glance. “Both the Captain and the Lieutenant were killed at sea, as was Major Jyra. As far as rank goes, no one holds a position of authority,” said Hyrlith.
Graw’s brows furrowed. “Killed you say? Who would have the audacity to attack a military vessel?”
Another pause as they looked at one another. Kilai stepped behind Koda as subtly as she could. “It was not an attack from a ship. It was, well…” he scratched his head.
“It was an attack from a creature,” said Hyrlith. “From a beast unlike anything I have ever seen before. It nearly pulled the ship under. We lost many men to it, Sir.”
“A creature?” His eyes narrowed, swinging between the two of them. “Trying to spin me some tale about krakens, are you? I’m in no mood for games. Move, the pair of you,” he grumbled, signalling to the man still standing on the pier with a jerk of his thumb. The man scampered off as Graw made his way across the deck to examine the rest of the crew lined up. At the end of the line stood Makku, meeting Kilai’s gaze with a lip between his teeth.
“What is going on here?”
“It’s true, Sir,” piped up the first crewmember he stood before. “I wouldn’t believe it either, if I hadn’t been there myself. Saw Tamall thrown into the sky right in front of me. Suckers pulled him apart before he got tossed into the ocean.”
The rest of the crew provided similar stories, the scowl on Graw’s face deepening until his stormy expression looked ready to erupt. “What is the meaning of this nonsense? What are you trying to hide here?”
“There is nothing to hide,” said Koda. “We speak the truth.”
“The man that controls the beast is held in the brig below. He must be taken into custody,” said Hyrlith. “It is important he is tried at once.”
“A man that controls a beast?”
“He does not control it,” Kilai butted in before she could stop herself.
Graw’s eyes flitted to her, roaming over her with a twist of contempt. “And who might you be?”
“She and the other boy trave
lled with him. They stole their way upon this ship, impersonating soldiers,” said Hyrlith.
“Why are they not in chains?” Graw’s face exploded with red. “See to this now!”
Kilai released a ragged breath as a few of the crew grabbed her, the idea of running for her freedom flashing through her mind before she quashed it. There would be no running from this. Rope was wound tight over her clamped wrists and then knotted. She gritted her teeth against the chafing, hearing Makku’s protests as they cajoled him into his own bindings and shoved him towards her.
“You must heed this warning,” she ventured. “The man below is possessed by a riftspawn that could easily kill us all but he does not control it. It is not he who killed –”
Graw slapped her across the face. The shock stung more than the contact, cheek inflamed and raw. “You do not speak. I will see you are questioned later.”
Anger boiled within her, glaring into his back as he beckoned Hyrlith, the two of them descending. She could barely meet Koda’s eyes, somehow ashamed despite the unfairness of it all. That she could be treated like little more than a beast made her stomach roil, blood curdling with the need to exact revenge for such humiliation. Her face was hot but she could not examine it with her hands bound, so she had to suffer the weight of the silence and the eyes of the crew. Still she kept her head high.
“What’s going to happen to us? Kilai?” murmured Makku. The woman holding him jostled him but he ignored her. “How will they punish us?”
She shook her head. “Keep your head down for now. We need to appear meek and mild.”
Chains clanking together drew her attention as Graw emerged, towing a bedraggled looking Ivor with his wrists sealed in front of him, shuffling around the chains attached to his ankles. His flame red beard was growing longer, covering the twist of his lips, skin even paler than she remembered. Behind him Hyrlith kept her hand on her sword, the pistol strapped to her thigh on her other side. Despite towering over the pair of them, the hunch of his shoulders made him look older, weaker. His filthy indigo coat had ripped around the seam of his armpit and even the deep colour of the fabric could not hide the stains where blood had soaked into it.
“Corporal Johan Ivor,” intoned Graw as a scattering of men raced up the gangway. “You are hereby accused of treason and several counts of murder, including that of your superior officers. Men, take him to the jail. Take the other captives with him.”
As they swarmed around Ivor like flies around laisok excrement, his eyes flickered up to meet hers. For a moment he straightened, heedless of the way they pulled and tugged at him, something she could not read alighting them with emotion. His lips parted as if he was about to speak but then one of the soldiers yanked at his chains. With a stumble his head jerked away, tearing the connection between their gazes and leaving her oddly bereft.
From there things spiralled away from her, like an avalanche rolling down a mountainside. Hands grabbed her, yanked at her ropes until her skin burned. Her feet moved without thought, trundling along entirely surrounded by stern faced soldiers who towered over her, blocking the view from her. Retreating into her own head, Kilai let them push and pull her around, limp as a rag doll, while she scrambled for a solution that would not come to her. How could she even begin to explain the situation? That she was not here to spy upon the soldiers. That she hadn’t known of Ivor’s secret, nor did she have any part to play in the way that horrible event had unfolded. If she closed her eyes she could still see it behind her lids. The grasping tentacles and the screams and the pounding rain and the pouring blood coating her hands. There were no words for that.
She had little idea of the direction she travelled in, merely shuffling in amongst the swarm of soldiers around her. In front of her she could just determine Ivor’s head sticking out amongst the crowd and was appeased to know that he was still within range of her. Terror had swooped in and stripped her bare. With a mind startlingly blank of thought, she found she had no real solution to grasp for. There was nowhere to run; she was stuck upon foreign soil with not an ally in sight that wasn’t bound up alongside her. If Kallan had contacts here they would not be willing to risk themselves or their operation for her.
A pebble caught underfoot and she stumbled. The man behind her prodded her in the back, pushing her forwards. The path grew steeper, marching up an incline interspersed with tall, skinny trees, tufted foliage bunching at the top. They towered so high into the sky she had to crane her neck to see the tops of their strange, dark leaves. How strange this land was, so craggy and hard and unnatural. The clouds filtered out all but the dimmest light of the sun, watery and dull.
Suddenly the party before her ground to a halt. Someone yanked on the rope until she nearly overbalanced, swaying on her feet before she settled. “Wait here,” a voice commanded in her ear, and then voices sounded from somewhere close by. Every time she attempted to peek through the bodies around her someone swatted at her and commanded that she keep her eyes down. Kilai bit her tongue so hard she tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth.
“Move,” was hissed in her ear. Then she was trudging inside a large hall, gaining little more than the impression of white walls and a high, airy ceiling. The scuffling and sounds of footsteps reverberated upwards, where panels of glass made up a glass structure in the centre, murky light pouring through. Kilai shivered. The room was freezing.
“What’s all this commotion for? Major Graw, what is with all these muddy feet in my office?”
“Calm down, old man,” said Graw. She saw him through the crack between shoulders. “This isn’t your office.”
“Might as well be my home.” A sigh. “What have you got for me?”
“These two are stowaways. Been operating in liaison with this one here, who murdered fourteen men aboard the ship Storm Chaser, including the Captain, Illias Gerad. We need a place to store them until we can get them shipped for trial. Bit of a high profile case this one, so we’ll need extra security.”
“Corporal Ivor?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
“Told you these bloody islands would be the end of me, didn’t I, Sir?”
There was a beat of silence, during which she could only see the back of Graw’s head. “Manners, prisoner,” he roared, cuffing him harshly over the head.
“What is the meaning of this? Why in the name have you got Corporal Ivor in chains?”
“This man just murdered several of his own men in cold blood.”
The other man scoffed. “Ivor’s a coward, not a murderer. Turning his tail and running, I can believe. You really expect me to believe he double crossed the men?”
“Careful. You’re not a general anymore. Tongues will wag if you show these kinds of allegiances.” Graw stomped his feet. “Take them down below. Keep this one chained down tight. And you, fetch me our records on Johan Ivor – I need to know everything. The other two will need to be interrogated.”
Kilai felt her stomach drop. Dread filled her to the brim, until it was spilling over in waves of cold sweats, her heart thumping so loudly she could no longer hear their voices over its drumbeat in her head. Throat squeezing tight, she glanced around until she saw Makku, who looked sullen and dejected, shoulders level with his ears. He did not understand Sonlin; couldn’t possibly know what they were discussing even if context must have given him some clues. His amber brown eyes slid her way with a question on his face. She just shook her head and smiled weakly. He clenched his jaw and looked away.
The rest of the conversation between the men was lost to the ringing in her ears, legs walking of their own accord as they bundled her onwards, a soldier on either side of her while another tugged her forth. With the way clear she could get a better look at her surroundings – the open, empty hall with little but a desk in the centre of the room and a series of doors beyond – and at the man talking with Graw. Kilai jolted to a stop.
“Move.”
The man’s eyes, grey-green and sunken, flipped from Graw to her and wi
dened. His mouth dropped open, the lines that hadn’t been so present the last time she had seen him deepening into weathered skin. Hair a whiter shade of grey had grown longer, revealing a natural propensity to curl. No longer a proud general of the armed forces occupying her home city, this man looked an older, haggard ghost of the one she had known.
“Dakanan-all,” she said, ignoring the hand poking at her spine.
“Lady Shaikuro.”
“You know this woman, Dakanan?”
Dakanan’s expression looked pinched. There were echoes of who he had been, in the sharp tilt of his military posture and the immaculate uniform, but after the events that had transpired in Nirket he had clearly fallen down. Whatever hole they had stuck him in, he had been left here to rot for his failure. In a way it was strangely gratifying, to know she wasn’t the only one paying for her actions back then. Maybe she’d find a way to take him down with her when he saw to her indictment.
“I really don’t want to know why you’re here, Shaikuro-shai,” he said in Myrish, grimacing. “But I’d like that you keep it off my damned doorstep.” Turning to Graw, he said, “This is the former governor of Nirket’s daughter, Kilai Shaikuro. A thorn in my side, at the time, but hardly a traitor.”
Kilai blinked, looking between the two men.
Graw’s face shuttered. “We’ll be the judge of that. You already proved you belonged in the witless house. You should be thankful you’re still being given a chance to be useful to society.”
A muscle in Dakanan’s jaw flickered. For a moment she thought the pair might come to blows, but then she saw the moment he realised the futility of it, retreating into himself with a put upon indifference that could not fully smother the lines creasing his brow. “Not my time you’re wasting, is it? Lock them up if you like. You’re the one who has to explain this mess to the admiral and her men.”
The Rising Tide Page 49
