Snake Heart

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I suppose. My father works in the orchard and spends his days mixing hard ciders to produce the best varietals for the family business. I thought it was incredibly boring and was enraptured by the stories that made it home about my uncle’s exploits. I studied math and engineering in school, with a notion of following in his footsteps, but by the time I was graduating from the military academy—not four years early, as he’d done—the Western Sea Conflict was over, and nobody thought there would be open trouble with Nuria again for a while. I also found that the expectations, wherever I went, were insane, just because I was his relative. I couldn’t imagine commanding soldiers and having them expect his brilliance from me.” And then disappointing them, the sour, almost pained look in Dak’s eye said, even if he didn’t speak the words. “I went into intelligence instead. Your work is less visible, and you’re not commanding hordes of men on a ship or a battlefield. That’s where I had languages training.”

  “And mage-hunter training?” Yanko could see where that would be useful for someone who would be an operative working in countries where magic was accepted and commonplace. It would be hard to be a spy if every telepath could read one’s thoughts.

  “Just the resisting magic part of it. They’ve got a mage hunter who defected after the war, because of family dishonor, I believe.” Dak raised his eyebrows at Yanko. What did that mean? That he thought Yanko should defect? “He teaches the soldiers in the program who have an aptitude for it. I had a hard skull and took to it naturally.” He snorted. “What a skill.”

  “It’s been useful for you here in this mission.”

  “This mission? This is your mission. I was sent to your country to gather information about the rebel factions and to free prisoners of war, wrongfully taken ones. We have a treaty with your people right now and are not at war.” Dak’s stare grew cool.

  As if Yanko had been the one to capture Turgonians and throw them into the salt mine. He doubted his uncle had had anything to do with that, either. He’d likely just put them to work when they had shown up, along with the criminals. For all he knew, the Turgonians had been criminals.

  Dak’s gaze shifted back toward the atlas. Bored with the conversation, was he?

  Yanko paced on the hard metal floor, aware of the coldness under his bare feet. Didn’t Turgonians believe in rugs? Kei ruffled his feathers again and made a few chirping noises, probably letting Yanko know he was interrupting the bird’s sleep.

  While he paced, he debated what he wanted to propose—what he dared propose. Perhaps he could ask for Dak’s help without proposing anything, but it sounded like attacking Sun Dragon or, as Yanko would settle for, throwing Sun Dragon overboard, might violate Dak’s orders and put his former bodyguard at odds with the chain of command on this ship.

  “If you were studying the rebels,” Yanko said slowly, “then you know more than I do about what’s going on at home. Is there a certain faction that your people want to come out on top? Or are you hoping that it will all die down before the real fighting begins and that the Great Chief will remain in control?” That would be ideal, because Yanko could support that without betraying anyone.

  “Your Great Chief is a warmongering fool who’s spent his entire reign trying to steal resources from other countries, rather than figuring out a solution to his problems at home. The Kyattese offered him help with farm magic, or whatever it’s called, to improve the soil over there, and he rejected it. He hasn’t forgiven them for not capitulating to Nuria back when your people were trying to take over Kyatt.”

  “Your people were trying to take it over too,” Yanko felt compelled to point out. Dak might be right about the Great Chief—Yanko wished he knew more than the newspapers had told him over the years—but it wasn’t as if the Turgonians were paragons of innocence. They’d conquered their way across their continent over several generations, killing and looting along the way. They hadn’t even been the original inhabitants of that land, having instead migrated from the Nurian continent centuries earlier.

  “Yes, but then Rias married a native and got them to look more fondly upon us.” Dak’s mouth twisted. “He probably did more to change the course of history by doing that than he did in twenty years of military command.”

  “Well, maybe we can find you a nice Kyattese woman to marry when this is all over.”

  Dak grunted. “We’re firmed up with Kyatt. I’d have to marry a Nurian princess to change the course of history at this point. You know any that are available?”

  “Uhm.” Yanko kept himself from looking at the scar that had replaced Dak’s missing eye since that might imply he thought Dak couldn’t win the love of a princess. Besides, he had learned to tell when Dak was being sarcastic. “I know a Nurian prince. He’s not married.”

  Dak stared at him, and Yanko suspected that bit of humor hadn’t gone over well, until Dak threw back his head and laughed.

  “Zirabo? I don’t know the marriage rules in Nuria, but that’s not legal in Turgonia.”

  “Even when you have nothing but men in your military? Don’t people get lonely?”

  “I said same-sex marriage wasn’t legal. I didn’t say that relationships don’t happen.” Dak rubbed his face—no, his eye. Were those tears of amusement? Goodness, Yanko hadn’t even realized he knew how to laugh like that. Or to laugh at all.

  Maybe this would be a good time for negotiations.

  “So who do you—your people—want to see in charge of Nuria? Not Sun Dragon, I hope.” Yanko shuddered.

  The humor vanished from Dak’s face. “He’s not one of the leaders that’s put himself forward for the position.”

  “Oh? He seems to be under the impression that he’ll be in charge of Nuria soon.”

  “There is a Luy Hano Sun Dragon gathering forces in the Mandolian and Rakatun Provinces.”

  “Maybe Jaikon plans to show up with news that Nuria has a fresh new continent and then replace his relative as the most viable Sun Dragon.”

  “He told you this?” Dak asked.

  “He told me he plans to take the Great Chief’s place. And kill me. Not necessarily in that order.” Since Dak was probably wondering when Yanko had partaken in this conversation, Yanko touched his temple. “Powerful people like to talk to me in my head.”

  Kei chirped, and an image of a pile of seeds flashed into Yanko’s mind.

  “Also, powerful parrots. Though they’re less likely to make threats and gloat.”

  “No? He’s rather forceful in demanding food.”

  “Forceful, yes. Threatening, no.” Yanko pushed his hair back from his shoulders—he had removed his topknot to sleep, as if he could sleep with Sun Dragon and the assassin on the ship, both contemplating killing him. Whether Dak appreciated it or not, Yanko was glad to be sharing the cabin with him again, especially since Dak was sitting between Yanko and the door. “If this continent turns out to exist, how badly... how hard would Turgonia fight to possess it?”

  He didn’t know if Dak would answer the question, or if he knew the answer, but the information would help Yanko figure out what exactly to propose to gain Dak’s help.

  “It’s halfway across the world from our mainland, so it would take a lot of resources to protect and control,” Dak said, “but there are always people who want to conquer new lands and partake in the opportunities that come with that. I doubt Rias will try hard to get it, but the next president? Who knows? There’s also the matter of not wanting Nuria to have it. You’ve always been our biggest threat.”

  “If we had another continent, we wouldn’t have to fight so hard to acquire resources from those who have more.”

  “In theory, that could be true, but one could also see that having more resources could make you more dangerous. What’s the census of Nuria? A hundred million people? More? You could field an immense army and try to dominate the entire world.”

  “Not me.” Yanko touched his chest.

  “No? If your Great Chief ordered it and said it would bring honor to your f
amily, you wouldn’t fight toward that end?”

  Yanko hesitated. Would he? If his father were standing there, reminding him of the glory the White Foxes had once claimed and could claim again, would he?

  “There’s probably little point in debating it until the continent is found,” Yanko said.

  Dak flicked his fingers in agreement.

  “But if it’s there... I can’t let Sun Dragon be the one to take the news home. That could ensure him the popular support, and his family is already old and influential. They may have a blood tie to the Great Chief’s family already. In fact, I can almost guarantee that they do if they’re making this claim.”

  Dak nodded. “All of the rebel factions except two have someone who’s related and can claim a right, should the Great Chief and his sons disappear.”

  “You didn’t answer who the Turgonians would like to see leading Nuria. Or are you simply hoping that the nation will fall apart, fracture into tiny countries, and no longer have the might to oppose Turgonia?”

  Dak’s expression grew depressingly wistful at that question.

  What he said was, “Someone unambitious and restful.”

  “Are those the kinds of people who usually aspire to become political leaders?”

  “No.”

  “How about Zirabo?”

  “He’s not one of the people the rebels have proposed. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

  Yanko grimaced at the idea that the prince might have been killed. Did Dak know something he didn’t? Something else he didn’t? Had Zirabo’s interest in finding this new continent made him a target somehow?

  “We wouldn’t oppose him if he put himself forward and had the wherewithal to fight off all of his opponents,” Dak said. “I don’t know that he would. He seems like someone who wants to help a leader not be a leader.”

  “Sometimes what’s best for your people isn’t what’s best for you. Zirabo would know that and accept that as a truth, I would guess. He’s young enough that he could rule for several decades, too, if he had the support and could keep the position. Assassinations aren’t uncommon in Nuria.”

  “Yes, it’s too bad your new friend wasn’t pointed in another direction.”

  “My new friend? The mage hunter? I don’t even know her name.”

  “Sun Dragon calls her Jhali.”

  “Ah. It’s good to know the names of the people who want you dead.”

  “Yes.” Dak stood up and stretched, linking his wrists over a bar that ran through the room near the ceiling. Knowing the Turgonians and their love for muscles, it was probably for doing pull-ups. “If Zirabo were to make a claim for his father’s position, Turgonia might support him.”

  “Support him? How so? With troops and warships?”

  “Mm, maybe not that openly, but I know that he and Rias have met a few times previously and have a friendly relationship.”

  Yanko had paused in his pacing, but he resumed it. When he had spoken about negotiating, he’d only intended to finagle Dak’s help against Sun Dragon. And maybe he’d had an inkling of extracting a promise that the Turgonians wouldn’t hurry home to rally legions of troops to occupy the new land, if it was, indeed, found. But this conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected. It hadn’t escaped Yanko’s notice that he was discussing sedition. For Dak, it meant nothing. He didn’t owe his allegiance to anyone in Nuria. But for Yanko to speak of displacing the Great Chief...

  Still, he, like Zirabo, wanted what was right for his people, and that had to be a focus on feeding everyone, not on making war.

  “The problem is that I can’t see Zirabo plotting against his father or his brothers, and he’s last in line for the dais,” Yanko said.

  “No,” Dak agreed. “He’s honest and honorable. I doubt it’s even occurred to him. Someone else would have to arrange for the others to be killed.”

  Yanko shuddered at the idea of arranging deaths. Leave it to a Turgonian to speak bluntly.

  “Well, let me think about that and see what happens when I get home,” Yanko said. “This isn’t the discussion I meant to draw you into.”

  “No? It’s more interesting than most discussions with eighteen-year-old boys.”

  “You’re just interested because I offered to arrange a marriage for you.”

  Dak snorted. “With Zirabo? Yes, that was thoughtful.”

  “How about Lakeo? She’s expressed interest in your more muscular attributes.”

  Dak snorted again, this time waving in dismissal. “First off, she’s half my age. Second, you’re the one she was willing to risk all of our lives to rescue from Snake Heart.”

  “What? She’s not interested in me. All she does is make fun of me.”

  “While sticking to your side and glowering at anybody who presumes to take that place.” Dak sat back down to contemplate the atlas again.

  “I thought Arayevo was the one who talked you into...” Yanko paused. Maybe he shouldn’t explain too much about the conversation he’d had with Arayevo, since she had been accusing Dak of secretly communicating with his people. Which had, of course, been true.

  “She didn’t mind going along with the rescue, but she also thought you would be fine with your mother. Lakeo wasn’t willing to take that chance.”

  “I...” Yanko shook his head and shook away the conversation. He didn’t see whatever it was Dak thought he saw and could not imagine Lakeo as a lover. Shouldn’t his first time—and there was no way he would admit to Dak or anyone else that there hadn’t been a first time yet—be with someone who loved him? And whom he loved? And who wouldn’t slap him on the side of the head and call him an idiot at any point during the encounter? “This isn’t important. What I really was hoping to talk you into was—is—helping me with Sun Dragon. To... throw him overboard. Or into the brig, if you have a way to keep mages incarcerated.”

  “You want to be the one to lead us to this great new land?”

  “No, that doesn’t matter. I mean, it does, but most important is for my people to have access to fertile farmland until methods of replenishing the soil back home can be figured out. But Sun Dragon has promised to kill me. I know this sounds cold-hearted and calculating, but I either need to kill him first or find a way to nullify his power, so he can’t strike at me.”

  “He hasn’t struck yet. I doubt Admiral Ravencrest would stop him if he tried.”

  “That’s comforting. Look, just because he hasn’t done it in the hours since we’ve come on board doesn’t mean he won’t. Maybe he’s just keeping me alive because—”

  Yanko stopped pacing, as he considered if there might be some truth to the sentence he had started. Was there a reason Sun Dragon hadn’t struck right away? Yanko had assumed it was because of the Turgonian witnesses, but if the Turgonians cared nothing for him and would not move to stop an attack...

  “He’s not an earth mage,” Yanko said, having a hunch that he was right, even though he knew nothing about the man. “I am. Or I would have become one if I’d been allowed to study whatever I wished. Even without having attended any of the academies, I’m good at earth magic.” He felt presumptuous saying such things, especially when he had never known any earth magic masters and did not have a basis for comparison, but in his heart, he believed it to be true. One couldn’t be good at something and have no sense of it.

  “And we’re looking for earth?” Dak said.

  “Precisely so. I’m sure he wouldn’t admit to it, but he may believe he’ll need me.”

  “Let’s wait to see what the moment brings, if it brings anything, before contemplating assassinations.”

  “Will you at least... I know you don’t owe me anything, and that I’m a pesky Nurian, but I would be grateful if you would act as my bodyguard one more time if—when—he attacks. Especially if he has the mage hunter acting as his bodyguard. Or if he throws her at me as a distraction.” Yanko winced, having no problem imagining that scenario.

  “You might be wiser to find a way to avoid ba
ttling him,” Dak said.

  “I’ve been practicing my magic. Pey Lu taught me a few things.”

  “You were with her for three days.”

  “What, you don’t think that’s long enough to master the mental sciences? Where’s your faith? Just because I failed my entrance exams, and he’s a warrior mage with twenty years of experience...”

  “Why don’t you wait to see what he does?” Dak picked up a pen and hunched over the atlas, as if to say the conversation was over.

  “If I wait for him to attack first, I might end up dead. You know he’s manipulating your admiral, right? Doesn’t your honor—your duty—demand that you stop him?”

  “My duty and my honor demand that I follow orders.”

  “What are your orders?”

  “To keep you away from the rock.”

  “And let him sit in his cabin and fondle it?”

  “Actually, he’s sitting on the bridge and fondling it.”

  “Haven’t you ever disobeyed orders, Dak? For the greater good?”

  “Yes.” Dak pulled a blank sheet of paper over the atlas and started writing, or perhaps drawing. “It did not go well.”

  Yanko slumped against the doorjamb, feeling defeated and alone. He told himself he was too old to cry. Besides, Sun Dragon would probably pop into his head to mock him for it. Still, he couldn’t help but let his chin droop to his chest. How was he supposed to best Sun Dragon and the mage hunter on his own?

  “I’ll watch your back, Yanko. So long as you don’t try to set me up with any princes. Or pyromaniacs.”

  Yanko blinked and looked up, but Dak was still working and didn’t bother glancing back. It didn’t matter. The words drove the feeling of defeat out of Yanko’s heart. He smiled at the rest of the comment, though he’d barely heard anything after the offer of back-watching.

  “Your problem might be that you’re too picky, Dak.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Yanko went back to the bunk, heartened that if Sun Dragon started a fight with him on the deck tomorrow, he wouldn’t be alone.

  Chapter 23

  The sea stretched in all directions, the surface undulating outward from the Turgonian fleet, empty of continents and islands. Or so it appeared from the surface. Yanko let his mind stretch out as he stood by the railing, delving below the waves, brushing past fish and crabs and octopuses going about their simple lives, eating and basking in the sun, in water made shallow by land below the surface. A lot of land. Yanko could sense valleys and canyons, ridges and mountains, the tops of those mountains sometimes within a few meters of the surface and shallow enough to provide obstacles for ships sailing through the area.