“I am alive now because you,” he smiled, and reached out for her hand, squeezing it as tightly as he could, which was quite weakly at the moment. And suddenly, he realized something was missing. “Nnenne?”
“Which one?” She chuckled. “You know too many Nnenne. The bird, yes? She is safe. Tenok watches her now. We can’t keep her here. She see you and she flap her wings and want to be on you, but you need rest.”
Sha’di felt himself relax, and a warmth spread through his body. He hadn’t known if Nnenne even realized who he was, and it was strangely comforting to know the bird wanted to be near him so badly.
“Will you come to Chipetzuha?” he asked, feeling sleep pulling at him again.
“I—” she sounded uncertain, and distant.
“Tenok need you…I need—” He was asleep.
CAEMAAN
HE’LL BE HAPPY TO SEE YOUR SILVER
Caemaan boasted several tall towers throughout the city, made from strong white stone. The tip of each one looked like an ivory flower bulb, just about to open and bloom in the morning light. Most of the towers were painted the colours of spring flowers unfamiliar to Samaki and his crew. He saw one shining tower the colour of the marshes of his childhood that he assumed was carved from jade. Between the towers and palaces and gardens were smaller stone houses, every spare space in the city filled. The bay was occupied with the long ships of fishermen and traders sailing south to the Jade Road, the safe passage that would have taken Samaki and his crew over twice as long to travel.
“All the riches of Caemaan,” Tiyharqu whistled in awe next to him.
“All the women of Caemaan!” one of the young crewmembers, an olive-skinned boy who had joined the crew the last time they’d been in Serepty, said loudly. The others began to cheer. After the long journey, most of these men would find their ways to the famed harems of Caemaan, and would no doubt lose all the payment they’d received thus far.
“Do you think your friend will be happy to see you?” Samaki asked, still feeling uncertain Tiyharqu’s connection would be of any help. It wasn’t hard to make connections as a merchant, given enough time and wealth. Samaki had the coin, but he wasn’t sure about the time.
“He’ll be happy to see your silver. They all are,” Tiyharqu winked.
They docked in the busy harbour, among the fishing boats and merchants who had sailed from the southern shore, returning from the Jade Road. Almost immediately, a secretary from the dock master was by their ship, haggling with Tiyharqu over a price. The man spoke a few words in the language of Mahat, but haggling was a universal language. As Samaki finished tying off the Afeth and giving the crew their shore leave, Tiyharqu had paid the man off with a bag full of copper coins.
“Harqu,” Samaki called over to his friend, “she needs a new coat of paint,” Samaki motioned towards the red figurehead of the Afeth, a snake whose tail ran under the ship, ending in the stern where it curled around a lantern. The paint was chipped and fading, giving the Afeth the pallor of sickness.
“I am more concerned with the sail,” Tiyharqu said, sighing deeply as she looked at the few tattered remains still hanging from the main mast.
“When we meet with your man, we’ll arrange for the materials you need to bring her back to her original glory,” Samaki smiled, patting his friend reassuringly.
They left a handful of men on the ship with Sef in charge. Sef was older than Samaki by a good decade or more but had been there since the Afeth first set sail. He had taken a certain fondness towards Kareth. Iason had jumped into the river to save Kareth, but not before Sef had. Despite being the oldest man on the ship, though the wind and sea had turned his skin to old leather and his eyes would crinkle whenever he smiled, he was still a strong man. Samaki looked at Sef and thought he could see what he himself would look like in a few more years, weathered but hale. Maybe for all those reasons he trusted him as much as he did Tiyharqu.
The rest of the crew disappeared almost immediately into the streets, and Samaki could very clearly see them in his mind scurrying towards the harems and ale houses, but Samaki wasn’t worried about them. Those who didn’t return could be easily replaced. The crew always looked different after he left a port. The crowds of Caemaan were a mixture of people, the olive skin of the Sephians, the copper of those from Mahat, and an exotic pale white he guessed was from the east. The fashion, too, was just as mixed, creating a local fashion that was both bright and gaudy. Most men wore silk vests with large flowing pants, and the women wore layered silk robes, which hid their shape and skin from view. Sheer veils covered their faces so Samaki could only see their gleaming black eyes.
“Here,” Tiyharqu stopped outside a large building. It had four small towers at its corners, the bulbs on top painted bright red. Vines grew up the walls, framing the narrow windows and making the entire structure look like it had been grown in a garden instead of built by men.
Inside, the halls were dark and filled with the smell of incense. Tiyharqu showed a man guarding the door a token, and they were nodded through. The room they entered was large and lit with dozens of lamps hanging from the ceiling. There were men lounging on soft cushions, holding pipes to their mouths. They were smoking something called redey, made from a plant that grew in the east. It was incredibly expensive in Mahat, so only the very rich ever used it, but it was common enough in Caemaan that he could have afforded to have a pipe and lean back to enjoy the dancing girls with the same glazed look as the others.
“Where did you get that token?” Samaki asked, trying to peek at the dull metal coin as it disappeared into Tiyharqu’s closed fist.
“I had a life before I met you,” Tiyharqu winked.
Samaki laughed and looked around the room, seeing the dancing girls emerge from the corners, causing his body to ache with desire. They wore the same flowing silk pants as the men, and used a sheer piece of silk to wave around as they danced, but the rest of them was bare. Tiny bells were attached to their pants and fingers, so they made music as they moved. And their dance flowed from their hips, gyrating back and forth, their hands moving in unison with each other. The men did not touch them; they only looked, but Samaki supposed that was because redey robbed a man of his strength.
“How do you know this place?” Samaki looked at his friend once more, the curiosity too much. “You’ve never been to Caemaan.”
“All I know, I learned from Farrahd,” Tiyharqu smiled.
Farrahd was the man Tiyharqu had claimed was her friend, her connection in Caemaan. They must have met before Samaki knew her, because otherwise he would have heard about this man before. Still, no matter how many times Samaki had asked over the journey, Tiyharqu would give no details. Samaki had briefly wondered if Tiyharqu and Farrahd had been lovers, but the thought was laughable. He doubted Tiyharqu had ever been with a man—he’d certainly never seen her show interest in any man.
“This place was, or perhaps still is, owned by Farrahd’s father.”
“Then perhaps he’s the one we should seek out.”
“Perhaps,” Tiyharqu agreed, taking a seat in front of one girl with bright golden hair and wide, jade eyes. The girl looked like she came from the Sephian Islands. Tiyharqu tossed the token in her hand. “To be honest, I don’t know who this token is really meant to summon.”
“So long as they have what we want, I don’t care what their name is.”
“You…look for someone, yes?” the accented voice of a woman spoke. Samaki turned around to find a petite woman wearing thick robes before him. Her head was unveiled, and she had long, straight black hair that went nearly down to her feet. She held her sleeves over her mouth as if she were trying to hide her face. Though her almond eyes were clear, Samaki doubted he would ever forget their intense stare.
“We are looking for Farrahd,” Samaki said, as Tiyharqu leaned forward to show her the token.
“I was given this by Farrahd. He told me to come here if ever I was in Caemaan,” Tiyharqu explained.
Th
e girl nodded, but they couldn’t be sure how much she actually understood. The language of Mahat was known in most port cities but usually not that well.
“Merchants?” The girl asked, never uncovering her mouth. Her voice sounded slightly muffled.
Samaki nodded.
“Ship have you?”
“Yes, I am the captain.”
The girl nodded and maybe even smiled; her eyes crinkled a bit. “You come,” she pointed to Samaki.
“My friend too?” Samaki asked.
She shook her head ever so gently. “You only.”
“Go,” Tiyharqu prompted and leaned back, happily looking up at the dancing girl before her. “I am much happier here than making business deals.”
Samaki shrugged and followed the girl, who had already started to walk away. She led Samaki down a narrow corridor, past a few men wearing spiked helmets who simply nodded at her and let them pass. Finally, they entered a small room, and Samaki was surprised to see a single woman sitting alone. The room was nearly empty, save for a low, black table. The woman sat on a mat on the floor, her knees folded beneath her, and her back straight. She wore the same heavy robes as the girl, though hers had been carefully arranged around her so that Samaki could see she wore countless layers. He could only see a slash of colour from each one but could tell that they were all rich silks carefully dyed and embroidered.
The woman had the same long, black hair as the girl but was different in every other regard. Samaki had no doubt this woman had power. She wore a veil, but Samaki could see she had the calm confident look of a woman who was used to having her orders obeyed. She held out a hand, her tiny fingers just poking out of the wide sleeves, and the girl quickly scuttled over to her, handing the woman a long pipe filled with redey. The girl backed away and stood next to the wall, her head bowed and her hands held in front of her.
The woman lifted the veil from her face, and Samaki was mildly surprised to see that she did not look like a Caemaanite. Her skin was ivory in colour instead of dark amber, her eyes were almond-shaped, her nose much smaller, and her brow barely pronounced at all. She looked like a doll carved from bone, or she did until she lifted her head ever so slightly. Even as she sat on the floor, she managed to look down at him with contempt.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice thick and detached like the smoke she blew from her mouth. She had signs of aging, wrinkles around her brow and mouth, her skin slightly transparent. He guessed she was close to her fortieth year, though Samaki could not help but find her incredibly beautiful.
“Who am I? Who are you?” Samaki nearly laughed. “Where is Farrahd?”
“Farrahd is gone,” she sucked deeply on the redey. “Now, I am here. So who are you, and what do you want?”
“You’re from the lands east of here, are you not?” Samaki took another look at the guards surrounding the lady, wondering if he should worry about them. The guards were definitely from Caemaan.
“You do not like foreigners,” her accent was nearly flawless. He wondered where she had learned the tongue of Mahat when it was barely spoken in this city. Had she learned it in the lands of the east?
“Madam, we are both foreigners here,” Samaki shrugged, trying to look pleasant. “How is it you came to this country?”
“How did you come to this country?” Her voice seemed to purr like a cat.
“What do you mean?”
She laughed, and it almost sounded like the bells on one of those dancing girls he’d left behind, only much deeper. “I mean it hardly matters. We are here now. We are talking now. It matters not how we came to this point. It only matters what we do from this point on.”
“Well then, what do you mean to do?” Samaki narrowed his eyes.
“Only my business. Here in Caemaan the men are merchants or soldiers, traders or killers, they have no time for the city, no time for economy and politics. Here in Caemaan it’s the women who rule the city, and the men who defend it. My husband owns all that I have, but I control it. So it is I you speak to.”
“I have heard women living in Caemaan were quite…exceptional,” though usually it has to do with their dance techniques, he opted not to add.
“Enough. You are Samaki of the Afeth, yes?”
He raised his eyebrows to show he was mildly impressed. “Yes, and you are Farrahd’s wife.”
She smiled, blackened teeth showing between her red lips. She quickly held up the sleeve of her dress to cover her mouth, the tips of her coral nails just peaking out from the many folds of fabric. “I told you, Farrahd is gone. They call me Tetsu. You will too. It means carp, in the eastern tongue.”
“What is a carp?”
“I thought you were a sailor,” she took a deep breath of her redey, blowing its smoke into his face.
He caught a strong whiff of it, stale, and yet somehow spicy, and started to cough but pounded on his chest until he quickly recovered.
“I’m a merchant. I know the weather, the sea is its own mystery, but now I imagine this carp is a type of fish?”
“It is a fish—sometimes golden, sometimes silver. Once a year, the carp sheds its scales and flies the souls of the dead to the stars, and there they swim in the river of light,” she lowered her sleeve, a different smile on her face now. This one was with her lips closed firmly together, the corners of her mouth wrinkling slightly. Samaki was suddenly reminded of a shark with black eyes and a mouth that hid countless rows of teeth.
“And is that what you do? Once a year you shed your scales and take to the sky?”
She reached out, tapping her redey pipe against a small bronze dish, letting the ashes fall loose. Then she waited, and the young girl from before rushed forward with a candle, quickly re-stuffing the pipe and lighting it. Samaki expected her to speak, but instead, she just stared at him with ice in her eyes.
“I want to propose a trade with you. My first mate is acquainted with your husband,” Samaki offered, his voice slightly meeker than he’d meant it to be.
“Many people come to trade many different things,” she took a deep breath of the redey, holding the drug in her lungs a moment, continuing to speak as she exhaled a stream of bright smoke. “Caemaan is where the two halves of the world meet. This is the land where you can buy life or death.”
“Well, I’m not here to buy either.” Samaki cleared his throat, looking at the woman’s glassy eyes and wondering if she could even concentrate on the conversation they were having.
She laughed softly, her tiny finger playing with the smoke in the air, making curls float around her head. “Everything is life and death. You bring death and trade it for life.”
He said nothing. There was something eerie about what she’d said. He had brought death here—the tools of death, the souls of the two men who had died in the storm, the vision of his father’s corpse bobbing in the waves. And they had come here desperate to rid themselves of that bane, to exchange it for something that made life worth living.
“Tell me,” she sucked on her pipe again, her face softening slightly, “what do you want at the end of it?”
“I, uh.” End of what? “I have brought—”
She made a noise, a quick suck on her lips, which silenced him. “Not what you brought to trade, not what you want in return, but what do you want at the end—the day you die?”
“The day I die?”
“How is it you want your life to end?”
“I imagine…” he’d fantasized his future so many times in so many different ways, he wasn’t sure there was one specific way he would find peace in life, but he had always known in a very general sense what he wanted. “…a beach I can walk along, my home near the shore. Or maybe it’s a small island I own, and my house is a palace of shining gypsum. I have a wife, or maybe two,” he grinned, though her face stayed numb, impossible to read, “and I’d have beautiful fat children, strong and healthy and ready to sail.”
“A simple life,” she smiled politely.
“As simple as I c
an do,” he wondered how many simple farmers had gypsum palaces built on private islands, but said nothing further.
“And what will you give to receive this simple life?”
“Are you offering it to me?” he laughed, but if she was making a joke, she made no sign and merely lifted her pipe to her lips once more. “Do you mean, what would I give the gods?”
“Yes…the gods. If a god came before you and told you this life could be yours, what would you give in return? What sacrifice would be worthy enough to please that god into giving you your prize?”
Samaki leaned back, truly pondering the question. He knew he’d heard tales of mortals making deals with gods, and usually the human had to outwit the god, or it would go horribly wrong. But he wondered, if an honest god made him that offer, what would the proper exchange be? What would he be willing to give up to live the life he’d started dreaming about when he was still a fish-smelling boy, nestled up against his father’s cool back?
“Everything I have.”
She smiled. “Your ship?”
He would not need such a fine ship when he was old. “Yes.”
“Your crew?”
The crew never stayed for long anyway. “Of course.”
“Your friend?”
Was she assuming he only had one friend, or was she specifically asking about Tiyharqu? They had never planned to stay partners forever. A part of him had always assumed their courses would veer away from one another some day in the future. Still, he hesitated before giving his reply. “Yes.”
“Your wife and child?”
“I have none to give.” Well, he could only be certain about the wife part.
“And if you did?”
He laughed. “I need them for my simple life, remember?”
“One wife, or maybe two. Remember? You can always have more wives, more fat babies.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wondered if redey always made people this strange. How did anyone get business done when everyone was in a dream state, having philosophical conversations about making deals with the gods? He just hoped she would get bored of this soon, and they could get to the business at hand.
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 11
