Great Chief

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I’ll distract him,” she whispered, then shrugged off her pack, leaving it on the ground as she strode up the tunnel.

  “No killing,” Yanko whispered.

  She didn’t look back, so he hoped she’d heard him and agreed.

  Jhali disappeared, drawing the soldier away from the bend and Yanko’s sight. He kept a magical eye on them, worried she would knock him out and tie him up. If she did that, the Turgonians would be suspicious of them. More suspicious.

  He hurried to finish up, pulling her pack over and undoing the tie on the flap. A pair of women’s undergarments tumbled out, and he blushed furiously. He stuffed them back inside, hoping she wouldn’t care that he’d touched them, and floated the gold bars in after them.

  The soldier’s voice drifted down the tunnel. He was speaking in Turgonian, so Yanko didn’t know what he was saying, and he didn’t hear Jhali’s voice. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, but whatever distraction she was providing, it gave him a chance to finish up.

  He gathered her pack, augmenting his strength with magic, and slung it over his shoulder, the re-hardened gold clinking inside. He meant to rush past the dead soldier to check on the living, but he paused, looking down at the body and then back down the tunnel toward the lake.

  If the plant truly was the problem, it ought to be possible to get rid of it, here and in the lake outside. As he’d been thinking earlier, just killing it might not work, since he had no idea if more of whatever toxins it held would continue to release after its death. But what about removal?

  Jhali leaned around the bend, peering down the tunnel at him. Yanko hurried past the body. He found Jhali and the soldier facing each other in crouches, a line of weapons on the ground between them. Some were Jhali’s familiar throwing stars alongside a couple of small throwing knives that were likely also hers. A jagged blade rested next to her smaller weapons, and then there were hefty daggers that matched empty sheaths on the soldier’s belt. One had a beautiful ivory hilt with mountains and a bear etched in it.

  “You’re… comparing weapons?” That wasn’t what Yanko had expected.

  “It started as me threatening him with a knife,” Jhali said, the soldier rising to look at Yanko. “He asked who the maker was, I think. Then showed me that dagger there. We were debating if the maker was the same. While not understanding each other’s language.” She looked to his shoulder—the backpack strap—and lifted her eyebrows slightly.

  Yanko nodded. “Glad you found some common ground while you waited.”

  The soldier picked up his daggers, pointing one down the tunnel, and asked, Yanko guessed, if he’d found anything useful.

  Yanko started to nod but caught himself. Now that he knew what was causing the illness, should he help the Turgonians get rid of it? Or should he do his best to convince them there was a plague and that they should leave the continent forever, lest they expose their entire nation to it?

  9

  When Yanko, Lakeo, and Jhali returned to the base camp, Tynlee was there. The soldiers let them walk straight to the tent where she and Dak sat inside, and nobody said anything about Jhali’s weapons. Yanko had a feeling the Turgonians were now far more worried about dying from a mysterious illness than a mage hunter’s blade.

  Soldiers guarded the tent outside, but Yanko sensed that Tynlee and Dak were alone inside. That was good, but Yanko wanted to talk to an even more alone Tynlee. Dak, of course, would want Yanko to tell his people everything and help them get rid of the plant. But was that what was best for Nuria? Yanko didn’t want to condemn the soldiers to death, but what if he could find a way to heal them without telling them what was responsible for the illnesses? If they believed a plague infected the land, wouldn’t they forgo the ore and leave the place alone?

  Even kind-hearted Zirabo might be disappointed if Yanko didn’t take advantage of this opportunity nature was giving him.

  But could he figure out how to heal the Turgonians without help? Just because he knew the plant was responsible didn’t mean he knew how to fix the problem. Would getting out of the area be enough? Or were whatever toxins it produced locked up in the bodies of those who had breathed them in? Including himself?

  Coughs emanated from a nearby tent. Yanko sensed that a third of the Turgonian soldiers had taken to their cots.

  Yanko needed to talk to Tynlee and hope that something in her medical texts would help. He left Jhali and Lakeo outside with the gold-filled pack—it took both of them to carry it—and a suggestion to lie low until they had an opportunity to take it back to the yacht. Maybe that night. He doubted toxins from plants could be spread like a contagious disease, so it ought to be safe to return to the others.

  When he walked in, Tynlee looked up and nodded to him. Her round face, with cheeks that usually dimpled with a greeting smile, was more grave than Yanko had seen it.

  Two books lay open to either side of her as she sat cross-legged on a cot, a notepad balanced on her thigh. Dak didn’t look up. He faced her but sat on the ground, working on a rough map of the camp and surrounding terrain features with numerous Xs marked on the paper. A table of two columns of numbers ran down one side.

  “Have any more people died down here?” Yanko eyed all the Xs.

  “No,” Dak said without looking up. “But more are sick. Here and in the mining camps.” Now, he looked up. “Was the dead soldier up there the same as the ones down here?”

  “In that I couldn’t tell what killed him? Yes.”

  Tynlee and Dak exchanged looks.

  “We know.” Dak spread a hand for her to explain.

  “I examined their livers,” Tynlee said, “and they all appear to have been affected by a slow-acting poison.”

  Yanko rocked back. “Poison? Would a poison make people cough?”

  “Numerous organs in their bodies were affected. All of them, I should say. The liver’s job is to detoxify the body, handling the metabolism of alcohol and various drugs and toxins that one might ingest, but it can only do so much. Both dead men showed signs of liver damage, and many of the sick are afflicted too.”

  Detoxify. Toxins. Was it possible that Yanko’s plant, the gas he assumed it was exuding, would appear like a poison to someone examining a body that had been exposed to it? What was the difference between a natural toxin and a manmade poison? Anything significant? He was fairly certain poisons were simply made in a lab using natural substances. Dak had suggested as much, that his people wanted to create a weapon—a poison—from the toxic algae. Further, if the lungs were the first point of contact with the airborne toxins, wouldn’t it make sense for them to be affected?

  Yanko nodded to himself. The plant had to be the problem. They hadn’t seen any sign of those pirates or anyone else who might enjoy poisoning Turgonians. At least, he didn’t think they had.

  He gripped a tent post for support and stretched out as far as he could with his senses, searching for people skulking about in the mountains or the foothills. But he only spotted men in the Turgonian camps on Dak’s map. For at least ten miles in all directions, there was nobody but his group and the Turgonians.

  “May I read your book on marine vegetation, Honored Consul?” Yanko waved to a third book on the cot that wasn’t open. She’d been studying the medical texts. “Did you go through it?”

  “I skimmed through, yes, but…” Tynlee lifted a shoulder, as if to dismiss what might be in it. She definitely seemed to believe some sentient party had poisoned the troops.

  “What did you find in the mining camp?” Dak watched as Yanko came forward to retrieve the book.

  “The body was the same, as I said, and the man—a lieutenant, I was told—collapsed in one of the tunnels. It looked like he was exploring and trying to get back out. Well, not exploring, I guess. His pockets were full of gold. It seems your people will find this land to have value.”

  Yanko gave Dak a sad smile, as if he’d already come to terms with that. Mostly, he wanted to turn Dak’s attention away from his interest
in the textbook. He was tempted to ask if he could speak privately to Tynlee, but Dak would find that suspicious.

  “All people will find it to have value,” Dak said, “if there’s gold here.”

  Yanko sighed and sat on the end of Tynlee’s cot. “Yes.”

  Honored Consul? Yanko asked telepathically. They would have to have their private conversation with Dak present.

  Yes? Tynlee looked at him.

  I don’t want Dak to know we’re talking. Yanko opened the book, turning his face toward the page, and hoping Dak wouldn’t figure out that they were conversing. He was relieved that it was in Nurian. There was a Kyattese author listed on the front, but this edition had been translated.

  Ah? Tynlee also looked back at one of her books, though the way her lips pinched together suggested disapproval.

  Because he’s Turgonian, not because he’s Dak.

  I understand. Go ahead.

  I think I know what killed those people and what may take down more of us if we don’t get away from these lakes.

  Lakes? Tynlee asked. Plural?

  Yes. There was one in the mountain near where the soldier died.

  You think it’s a natural poison? Something in the water?

  Something living at the bottom, technically. There’s a plant. I found it in both locations. The air stinks around the water, the same stink up there as down here. Have you been out to the lake here yet?

  No, I was taken straight to this tent while General Aldercrest had words with Dak. The man isn’t pleased about all of us Nurians showing up in his camp.

  This probably isn’t the mission he thought he was volunteering for.

  I don’t think Turgonians volunteer for anything. They’re just told to go. Tell me more about this plant, Yanko.

  Yanko started to answer but paused. The index had an entry on plants that grew by steam vents deep in the ocean. He flipped to the page and was disappointed to find only a paragraph hypothesizing that it was possible, based on denser growth near vents off the coast of the Kyatt Islands at depths scientists had visited in their underwater boats. Unfortunately, there weren’t any pictures. Judging by the descriptions, the Kyattese sea-vent plants weren’t anything like the ones Yanko had found.

  I see, Tynlee thought, even though Yanko had been busy reading and hadn’t answered her question. If you found a new plant, they might name it after you.

  The White Foxes have enough trouble with dishonor without having a man-slaying plant named after us. Yanko looked up from the book, gazing thoughtfully at the canvas ceiling of the tent.

  Were the plants more than man-slaying? When he’d first investigated the lake, he hadn’t been that surprised at the lack of other plants or sea life, assuming the huge upheaval had been responsible, but what if the plant’s toxins killed other sea life too? Maybe nothing grew in places where it grew, and no creatures swam past because they knew the plants were deadly. It could be a natural defense mechanism to keep competition away from the tiny areas by heated vents where the plant could grow.

  Yanko noticed Dak watching him, and he looked back to the book. It would be difficult to keep any secrets from Dak, even if they weren’t speaking aloud.

  Yanko returned to the index to see if there was an entry on the algae Dak had mentioned, algae that was poisonous when ingested. Maybe it shared some commonality with this plant. Maybe if there was a cure for that stuff, there would be a cure for this. But he paused. If he found a cure, would he be able to give it to the Turgonians without letting out his secret? Without letting them know a plant was responsible rather than a plague?

  He looked at Tynlee, expecting her to be reading his thoughts and to offer an opinion. Her lips pursed as she gazed back at him. What did that mean? That she wasn’t reading his thoughts? Or that she was and would leave the decision to him?

  Tynlee, if the plant is emitting a gas that’s toxic to us… does this all make sense? That people would gradually get sicker? That there would be coughing, such as with a virus, and then a somewhat sudden death? It’s odd, isn’t it, that these people all died while they were walking around and not lying in their cots and succumbing after two days of being horribly ill?

  The sudden deaths are odd, yes. If you’re right about the plant, it’s possible that a person’s response is dose dependent. Someone who spends time near the water and inhales a lot of the toxin might die abruptly, whereas those who had a smaller dose because they’re over here, farther from the lake, are only getting sick. Some of these people might recover if their livers and other excretory organs are able to clear the toxins. I visited some of the sick men, and they were coughing and sweating and urinating frequently. The cough is likely due to lung inflammation and irritation, though I suppose there might be an attempt to forcefully exhale the toxin, but the sweat and urination would definitely represent the body’s attempts to excrete foreign substances.

  Dose dependent. Yanko grimaced. How long had he and Dak stood by the water that morning? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Were they lucky that they hadn’t both pitched over as they walked away?

  It’s possible your body is superior at clearing toxins, Tynlee said.

  Oh good. I’ve always wanted a superhuman ability. Yanko found the entry on the blue-green algae he’d been looking for, complete with diagrams of the organism at the microscopic level. Here we go.

  Tynlee didn’t lean over his shoulder to read, but he thought he sensed her observing through his eyes. As always, her mental touch was so light that he could have easily missed it.

  Cyanotoxins, Yanko read to himself, are produced by cyanobacteria found particularly in lakes and ocean areas with a high concentration of phosphorus. Under certain conditions, they reproduce exponentially to form blooms that can poison and kill animals and humans when ingested. They can accumulate in fish and shellfish and cause death in animals and humans that eat them.

  He skimmed ahead, knowing he was dealing with a different organism, so little would be the same. Mostly, he wanted to know how one treated the poisoning, because he thought that might be similar. There had to be a treatment, right? A cure?

  There, the last paragraph mentioned livestock drinking from tainted water and being afflicted. The treatment…

  He slumped. Unfortunately, there is currently no antidote for the toxins produced by blue-green algae.

  That tickle he’d felt in his chest earlier returned. Psychosomatic? Or… not?

  He swallowed.

  “At some point,” Dak said, “are you two going to share the details of your telepathic conversation? Or would it be easier on you if I left the tent?”

  “Uh.” Yanko wasn’t surprised that he’d picked up on their long silence and book scrutiny as unlikely, but he didn’t know what to say to it.

  “It would, yes.” Tynlee smiled at him, not looking the least abashed at getting caught.

  Dak lifted an eyebrow, but he didn’t lift the rest of himself. No, he looked quite comfortable. “You’re back to thinking the plant is responsible, Yanko?”

  “Uh.” Yanko glanced at Tynlee.

  “Such eloquence,” Dak murmured. “This must be what prompted your mother to think you’d be a good candidate for the dais.”

  “No,” Yanko said. “That’s more about some kind of legacy for herself.”

  But if he’d been afflicted with a deadly dose of this stuff, it wouldn’t matter what his mother’s dreams for his future were.

  “Was there some standing water in the mountains with that plant in it?” Dak waved to the marine textbook. “Because I find it unlikely that Tynlee would tell you it’s a poison and you would start looking up sea plants. Admittedly, poisons are often derived from plants or fungi, but you don’t look like you think an outside force is responsible. If that’s the case, I’m relieved. Depending on how widespread it is. Is it going to be in all the standing water across the continent? Can we destroy it?”

  Yanko rolled his eyes, wondering why he’d even bothered to speak telepathically. “Honored
Consul, when you dealt with Intelligence Colonel Starcrest when he was previously stationed near your consulate, did you ever come out on top in your dealings with him?”

  She smiled. “Occasionally, but as you can imagine, my ability to read minds wasn’t much of an advantage against him. I had only my wiles to rely upon in our dealings.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Dak’s dogged expression suggested he wouldn’t be distracted. “Because you want to lie to my people?”

  Yanko sighed and gazed down at the algae entry, but he didn’t see the words.

  “I’ve been considering that letting your people believe there’s a plague might be a good way to convince them to leave the continent without bloodshed,” Yanko said.

  Dak folded his arms over his chest.

  “But I’d still want to cure them,” Yanko said. “I don’t want any more people to die, Nurian or Turgonian.”

  “Good,” Dak said.

  Yanko wondered why Dak was so loyal to Turgonia when so few of his people treated him well. Was that the norm? Or was that only what Yanko had seen because Dak kept showing up with him in tow?

  If the Turgonians did believe a plague was responsible, Tynlee mused telepathically, they might leave, especially if they thought only magic could cure it.

  But can magic cure it? If it’s similar to the algae and there’s no known cure…

  I’ll look up some general information on clearing toxins from the body. Tynlee hefted one of the medical tomes. Perhaps there’s something that could be done to boost the effectiveness of the liver and other detoxification organs.

  “Yanko?” Dak rose to his feet and tilted his head toward the exit. “A word?”

  It took Yanko a few seconds to realize he wanted to speak in private. That surprised him, that Dak would keep anything from Tynlee. But she didn’t appear offended. She tugged off her shoes, repositioned herself on the cot, and pulled one of the books into her lap.

  Yanko followed Dak outside and away from the tent.