Ben said, “Cheng, you said that you had other evidence that it was connected to Arosh. Can I ask what it was? Why are you and Zhang so sure that this ship is the Qamar Jadid?”
“Because the fisherman found this.” Cheng reached in his pocket and flipped a small orange block toward Ben, who caught it and opened his palm.
“That’s the Saēna,” Cheng said. “The seal is carved carnelian. That icon is an early form of the Persian firebird.”
Ben looked at Tenzin. “Is this Arosh’s seal?”
She looked over his shoulder. “It’s one of them.”
Cheng said, “Arosh would have set that onto any boxes or chests that came from him. Sealed with wax and that carved seal pressed into the wax to prove that nothing had been tampered with.”
Ben held the carved stone up to the light. The carnelian was striped and the finish was dull, but the image of the winged creature surrounded by two crescent moons was intact. “How sure are you, Tenzin?”
“Very sure,” Tenzin said. “I knew the minute Cheng showed me. There may be other dhows that wrecked along the Chinese coast in the ninth century, but as far as I know, none of them would be carrying Arosh’s cargo.”
Ben flipped the seal back to Cheng. “Sounds good to me.”
Fabia kicked his foot.
“Ow.” Ben frowned. “What?”
“You didn’t let me see it,” Fabia said. “Don’t assume.”
Cheng smiled and passed Fabia the small bar. “You may keep it as long as you like. Take pictures, in fact. I don’t think anyone has recorded it properly, and I’m sure both Arosh and Zhang would appreciate a professionally prepared report since they’re the ones paying the bills.”
Fabia smiled. “I’d be happy to do that.” She turned to Ben and stuck her tongue out.
“Are you twelve?” He couldn’t stop his smile.
“No, but you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that to old, pompous professors over the years. This job is going to be so much more fun.”
Ben saw Tenzin from the corner of his eye. She was watching Fabia with an expression he couldn’t interpret. It wasn’t calculating. It was… thoughtful.
He shouldn’t be worried about Fabia, but when Tenzin turned her attention that closely to anyone, it warranted caution.
What’s going on in your head, Tiny?
16
Tenzin did go out and play dodge the seagull when all the humans went to sleep, which was a game she’d never heard of before Ben had mentioned it. It was far more entertaining than she’d anticipated. Then she flew back to the coast and estimated how far she would be from her Shanghai house. A little over three hours if she was guessing correctly. Not bad, though if dawn was too close, she’d have to find shelter.
It felt good to orient herself over the vast ocean. It was necessary to know where your exits and safety points were at all times.
“How many exits? Come on, Tiny. How many exits?”
“None!”
“Wrong. Kick out the front window. One. Break open the side doors. Two and Three. Moon roof. Four. In this small a room, four exits are more than enough.”
She’d been terrified riding in a truck for the first time. Bumping over narrow mountain roads in a vehicle that leaned and creaked. He’d forced her to ride with him since she’d dragged him to the far western edge of China on slightly false pretenses. She’d only gone along with it to assuage him. Then she realized that a vehicle could be a death trap, even for a vampire.
He’d reassured her by playing that silly exit game. Tenzin couldn’t remember the last time someone had reassured her. She was not someone others reassured. She was the one they looked to when they were afraid.
And now she and Ben had been hired for a job that Tenzin might hate even more than the one they’d done in the caves in Puerto Rico. Water was not her friend. Diving in the ocean for amusement was not a thing she did. Large bodies of water were lovely to fly over but otherwise to be avoided at all costs. Being wet, even in rainstorms, sapped her strength and made her amnis less powerful.
So why had she taken this job? She could have told Cheng it was his own headache. She could have refused her father. She’d refused both Cheng and Zhang many times before.
You knew you could draw him in.
He can’t resist a challenge.
It’s the one thing you can give him. A challenge.
She ignored the annoying voices and started back toward the ship. Whatever had possessed her to take the job, she was committed now. She would find whatever was left of the Laylat al Hisab and return it to her father.
The Night’s Reckoning.
She had to smile. It was an utterly extraneous gesture, giving a sword to Zhang. Somehow, that made Tenzin want it even more.
Also, she’d told Ben the truth. The vampire world had experienced upheaval before, but nothing in over a thousand years had shifted the power balance like Saba’s takeover in the Mediterranean. The Council of the Ancients in Alitea was an unknown quantity. The last thing that anyone needed was Arosh and Zhang being pushed into a territorial war.
Of course—in Tenzin’s opinion—certain parts of Central Asia could do with Arosh’s firm hand, but no one had asked her, and she wasn’t going to delve into politics. She’d been the general who had commanded her sire’s forces in the past, and she had no desire to lead an army of immortals again. Especially not wind vampires.
Ben had an American saying that perfectly described the experience: herding cats. Commanding an army of wind vampires was like herding cats.
She spotted the lights of the Jīnshé in the distance. It was easy to identify because of the helicopter pad, but descending to the ship put the scope of the undertaking in perspective.
Cheng was correct. It was a very big ocean.
Though the wreck was located in a busy shipping lane, they were still the only ship for miles around. They’d had to obtain all sorts of permits and licenses from the human government, but Cheng and the university had taken care of that. The only thing Tenzin had to worry about was finding her father’s sword.
The search site was spread out over miles, and within that, they had to find the probably scattered wreck of a twenty-meter dhow that—in the best-case scenario—would be covered in sediment, otherwise very little would have survived. Their hope was that the ship had sailed during the tail end of monsoon season—when storms were less likely to hit—and had been struck by an unexpected typhoon. No one knew for sure if that was why the Qamar Jadid had never reached Penglai, but that was the suspicion. If a typhoon was to blame, the boat could have been covered in mud and other sediment kicked up by the storm, only now revealing its secrets a thousand years later.
According to Cheng, they wanted mud and sediment, otherwise the frame of the ship would be entirely gone and the treasures it had transported would have drifted away or been too greatly degraded.
The seal was hopeful. Kadek’s survey was hopeful.
But they could use all the luck they could get.
Lying on her back in the warm breeze of the East China Sea, Tenzin stared at the moon, the full, round moon shining bright over the ocean and drowning out the light of the stars.
When she’d been alive, the moon had been her talisman. It was the guardian of the mother, bringing milk and blood in turn. Milk to feed the children and blood to seed new life. Like a woman’s body, the moon was always changing. It was the heavenly breast. The rounded belly. The lover’s cheek.
Tenzin stripped the clothes from her body and lay prostrate to the eternal moon.
Do you remember me?
The wind and the moon were silent.
I have not changed in many years.
Tenzin whispered an old song, one she hadn’t thought of in centuries. A lilting chant she’d sung when her babies cried.
Do you remember me, Mother? My children have all left me. They are so long dead, they are the earth that fed the roots of ancient trees. My belly does not swell with li
fe. My body is frozen as it was, and my eyes have seen centuries the way mortals see years.
The moon’s soft light bathed her in the darkness, but the wind said nothing.
Do you remember my voice?
Finally she heard an answer on the wind, but it wasn’t the holy song of a celestial god. It was the song of a girl carrying a baby on her hip, bouncing him by the cooking fire. It was the song of the wind through the grass and a stream trickling over rocks. It was the song of goats bleating, ponies stomping in the snow, and women and men laughing together.
Tenzin opened her eyes and held her breath, willing away the pain that speared through her shoulder. Don’t curse me with memories; I’ve given them to another.
But the moon and the wind had gone silent again.
She turned back to the blinking, manmade lights of the ship and descended. It was getting late, and she was starting to see sunlight growing on the horizon. When she landed on the deck, she pulled her tunic over her body and retreated to the dark hold she’d claimed.
She didn’t look for the moon again. Those searching for buried treasure in the daylight would have to find their own luck.
Ben woke with a heavy heart, and he didn’t know why. His body wasn’t aching. His face felt better than it had in days, and he felt well rested. He glanced at the clock. Just past noon.
That meant he’d gotten over eight hours of sleep, which was hardly the norm.
So why did he feel so heavy?
He swung his legs over the side and sat up, stretching his body and rubbing his eyes. The boat’s movement wasn’t overly noticeable; it had been just enough to lull him into deep sleep the night before. When he looked out the window, he saw nothing but deep blue sea. He glanced down and checked the wake. They were moving, but slowly.
Ben smiled. “They’re scanning for the wreck.”
He rushed through his morning shower and headed up to the bridge. Kadek’s day captain pointed toward the stern, so he followed the railing back until he heard Fabia talking to someone with a heavy Chinese accent.
“Do you see?”
“Yes.” It was Fabia. “This is great. I can’t believe how good this sonar is.”
“The very best,” the other voice said. “Most modern.”
“I can see that.”
Ben turned the corner and saw an open door and a room surrounded by windows. Laptop computers filled a table in the center of the room, but a dozen people were huddled around one screen, buzzing excitedly in Mandarin.
“Hey.” He grinned when he saw Fabia’s face. “Good news?”
“Ben, you won’t believe how good this equipment is.” Fabia motioned him closer. “We’ve already narrowed in on a reef where we think the ship probably is based on the fisherman’s reports.”
“Oh yeah?” He popped his head over the crowd and looked at the screen, which was various shades of gold, yellow, and black. “A reef?”
The scientist who’d been speaking with Fabia said, “If we are certain this is a ninth-century vessel, it is very likely that any exposed parts of the wreck would be covered in coral at this point. This is good.”
Fabia said, “Coral will preserve the overall shape, though it might keep us from documenting some of the artifacts. So it’s a mixed blessing.”
There was more chattering about archaeological details he didn’t try to understand, but Ben was encouraged. It sounded like locating the wreck might take closer to days than the weeks he’d been fearing.
He found his mind tripping to Tenzin. She didn’t sleep. Where was she? Did she have space to fly around, or was she stuck in a tiny cabin and going crazy? He hoped she’d been meditating, but something about her demeanor didn’t reassure him.
Not your problem.
He had to stop obsessing over her mental state. Tenzin didn’t need him hovering over her, nor would she welcome it. She’d survived for thousands of years without him. She’d be fine.
“Fabia, can I talk to you for a minute?” He nodded to the back where a broad balcony looked over the stern of the ship.
“Yes, of course.” She dragged herself away from the other scientists, her eyes still glued to the sonar screen.
Ben ushered her outside.
“What’s up?” she asked.
He kept his voice low. “Can you tell how much they know about… all this?”
Fabia wrinkled her nose. “It’s so hard for me to tell because I don’t speak Mandarin. As far as I can tell, they think Cheng is an eccentric rich man. I don’t know if they think he’s a treasure hunter or a benefactor. They know I’m working with him, so they might be cautious around me.”
“Right.” Ben nodded. “I mostly want to figure out how forthcoming they’ll be with us. I don’t want anyone hiding information that we might need because they think we’re looters wearing suits.”
“I don’t get that impression from them, but again, I don’t speak the language. They’ve been pretty open with me, as much as language permits, and they seem to accept my credentials. They know I’m an archaeologist and art historian—I’ve been showing them pictures from my previous jobs—so they’ve mostly asked about that.”
“Got it.” Ben needed to keep an eye on the humans. He didn’t need curious scientists poking around a ship full of vampires, and he also didn’t need them getting scared off. “I’m starting to understand why Tenzin wanted me on this job.”
“Why?”
“Because she needed a professional juggler,” he muttered. “Keep the vampires hidden. Assuage the humans’ curiosity. Keep the job on track and make sure no one gets exposed or eaten.”
Fabia nodded. “Those are all very necessary tasks, and I’m sure you’ll be successful.”
She was tapping her foot.
Ben smiled. “You really want to go back to the archaeology-nerd room, don’t you?”
“Please.”
He waved her toward the door. “Go. Keep your ears open for anything a professional juggler might need to be concerned about. I’m going to go check with Cheng’s human crew on the bridge.”
“Okay!” Fabia ran inside and immediately back to the sonar screen where another group Ooooh! had just arisen.
Ben walked around the top-deck conference room and back toward the bridge to check in with Kadek’s first mate. The man had been introduced as Mr. Lu, and that’s how Ben addressed him.
“Anything I need to know about?”
Mr. Lu answered in English. “I mapped out a search grid with the captain before sunrise, and we are sticking to it. The team from the university seems to think they have already identified the wreck site, but we will cover the whole grid before we return.”
“Have you been on salvage operations before?”
Mr. Lu nodded.
“So… do you agree with the university team?”
Mr. Lu shrugged. “I am not an archaeologist.”
Ben lowered his voice. “No, but I’m guessing you probably know what you’re doing as well as they do, or maybe more.”
The corner of Mr. Lu’s mouth turned up. “The site they identified was one I noticed as well.” He pointed to a monitor near the wheel. “The resolution on this isn’t as good as theirs, but I agree with them.”
“Could you tell anything about the condition?”
“There’s some coral, but I am guessing it’s mostly sediment, which is good.”
“That’s what I hear.” Ben looked around the bridge. “Anything you guys need? Any messages I should pass along?”
Mr. Lu shook his head.
“Any questions?”
“We have been warned about the forward hold, so my men have been avoiding it, but there are noises that the humans are probably going to notice.” Mr. Lu glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Does she sleep?”
Ah. So that’s where they’d put Tenzin. “No. She doesn’t sleep. Does the forward hold have access to the deck?”
“You have not been on ships very much, have you?”
�
�I was on a freighter once.”
“This isn’t a freighter.” Mr. Lu barked directions at one of his men, and Ben felt the ship begin to turn. “Yes, the forward hold has deck access. I was told that was necessary for her. My men can avoid that area, but there are supplies stored there. We will need access at some point.”
“Let me know when you need them, and I’ll go with you. I really don’t think you’ll have an issue, but she may not like being disturbed, and I can distract her if she gets…” How to put it? “…cranky.”
“Understood.” Mr. Lu glanced at Benjamin again. “If there is nothing else, Mr. Vecchio—”
“Ben.” He lifted his hand in a wave. “Nothing from me. I’ll let you know tomorrow if there are any messages.”
“Thank you.” He glanced at the sonar screen. “We will be finished with the search grid by nightfall. Unless I see something unexpected, I anticipate they will dive tonight.”
17
Ben followed a low thumping sound to the forward hold of the ship. He paused at the hatch, wondering if she was doing what he thought she was doing.
He unlatched the door and pushed it open, leaning against the hatch as he watched her.
Tenzin didn’t sleep during the day like most vampires. It wasn’t her age—Ben knew of other ancients who slept during daylight—it was just a quirk of her blood. According to Tenzin, she’d slept once and dearly missed the oblivion it brought, though she didn’t miss the lack of control.
Beatrice, whose sire had shared blood with Tenzin, didn’t sleep much either. Much of both Beatrice’s and Tenzin’s days were comprised of finding ways to shut off their minds. Meditation helped. Beatrice practiced transcendental meditation, yoga, and tai chi for hours. Music also helped. When Tenzin was at home, she used a loom and could spend hours on end weaving. Ben had come to recognize the rhythmic thump of her weaving comb like a kind of white noise in the background of his days.
She wasn’t weaving this afternoon; she was playing basketball, or some version of it. The overhead of the hold wasn’t two stories like their loft in New York, but there was a low hoop attached to one end of the compartment, and the familiar rubber ball thunk, thunk, thunked against the metal deck. Tenzin was standing at one end of the hold, bouncing the ball before she lifted it and sent it flying with her amnis.
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