Rupert did not budge. “Did you take Recruit Owens and those others to a Selkie tavern with you too?” he asked Makeda. “A tavern owned and operated by the Selkie war criminal and rebel instigator, Jemmy Three-Strikes, I might add.”
Makeda snorted when another wave of whispers struck up among the crowd. “If that Selkie you named were truly guilty of the supposed crimes you would accuse him, why then would the king allow such a rebel and a monster to live and operate inside the city walls? Aye, say nothing of owning an establishment frequented by all in the Painted Guard. If this Selkie were in question, why not throw him in chains long ago as you have so readily done for all of us here?”
“That the king allowed any former enemy to live is evidence enough of his grace and forgiveness,” said Rupert. “To not forgive those who have wronged us, Makeda, is to make new enemies at every turn. By the king’s own laws, even the lowest of Salt races are to be offered a chance at redemption, if swearing fealty to our crown.”
Makeda scoffed at that, but she made no further remark as Rupert pressed on.
“The king would offer redemption to you also, Pod Mother Makeda. As the daughter of Orcin and brother of the Pod Father, Malik Blackfin, you may trust and believe that our wise and noble king, Darius, knows your family for a line that is brave and true.”
“Clearly.” Makeda snorted and raised her arms high enough to make her chains taut. “But if this is the reward for loyalty, Bowrider, what is the price for betrayal?”
“You tell me, Makeda,” said Rupert. “For your ties with this Recruit Weaver and your favoring of him are well documented by those with the king’s trust . . . and you were there that night at the tavern of Jemmy Three-Strikes,” Rupert insisted before his voice dropped, his eyes flashing. “Aye, the same night you were placed in chains along with both Recruit Weaver and the Selkie rebel, Jemmy Three-Strikes. The larger question I have is to wonder why were you there at all? What business would a pod mother and a feckless recruit have in visiting a known Selkie war criminal’s establishment?”
For a moment, the look in Makeda’s eyes made Sydney believe the former pod mother might snap her chains in half before going after Rupert. Before Makeda could answer, however, another spoke up for her instead.
“Makeda,” said Nattie Gao, shaking her head. “Please. No more.” She glanced at Rupert. “Let you ask your questions of me instead, Lord Bowrider.”
“Why should I question you in this respect, my queen?” Rupert asked. “It was not you taken unawares that night at the Selkie’s tavern with an Orc recruit.”
No, Sydney gripped the ends of her chair. No, you were taken unaware later that night here at the Nautilus, right, Mom?
Nattie took a deep breath before answering Rupert. “I was not at the tavern,” she said. “But I am the reason that Makeda went there. Aye, and why she took Garrett Weaver there with her too.”
“How then?” Rupert asked. “For what purpose, my queen?”
Sydney cringed when the king leaned forward beside her, Darius’s face puzzled in question as much as her own. She could feel the crowd hanging on Rupert’s questions and the queen’s every word also.
Nattie glanced at the empty tank of water the king had threatened to throw Sydney inside of, then the queen resumed her stare of Rupert. “My love for Selkies and all those deemed as outcasts is well known,” she offered a sad smile to those imprisoned in the cages. “Garrett Weaver was an outsider too. He was also a dear friend of my daughter’s during our life ashore. He came to the Salt world not by his own choosing, but at the hands of Selkie slave catchers who brought him here for their own gain.” Nattie played to the crowd. “Hear and believe me when I say that Garrett Weaver was an innocent, if ever there was one. Aye, a naïve boy caught in a raging tide in which he knew nothing of, nor how to escape.” The queen looked to Darius with truth gleaming in her eyes. “All that these others have said to you is true, my king.” She gave a weak motion to the other prisoners. “Garrett Weaver was at the heart of why the princess and I, along with so many others here all broke our shared vow to never return.”
Sydney cringed at the immediate frown made by the king when Nattie mentioned her royal title. Mom, what are you doing? Sydney wondered. Are you trying to make him mad?
The queen went on. “I confess that I did not dwell on what the consequences should be for my actions. Not when I chose to break my vows and return to the Salt. Nor when I decided to chase after my child and Garrett Weaver too,” said Nattie. “For what parent would waste a single moment when learning their child has went missing in the night? When they do not know where that child is, let alone the destination they are headed, or soon to arrive?”
Jun. Sydney thought then, biting her lip to keep it from quivering as her brother’s face flashed in her mind. She’s talking about Jun now. Glancing at the king, Sydney saw the king’s anger lessened too, Darius’s face a flood of emotion with every word that Nattie spoke.
“No,” the queen continued, nodding to the other prisoners too. “All of us imprisoned now did not think of ourselves in such moments. Nothing of our own safety or vows. We hoped only that we might find our children and see them safely home before the Salt stole them from us. Before the horrors within this watery world shaped our loved ones into shades of the innocent ones in our memory. That is why we all here returned to the Salt,” her voice broke. “Some of us for the love we bore our children. Others for the love they bore their friends.”
Rupert glanced toward the king, as if seeking direction. Receiving none, he continued on with his inquiry. “Noble gestures, all, my queen,” he said. “But your answers say nothing of the true reason why the daughter of Orcin took a lowly recruit to a Selkie criminal’s tavern.”
Nattie squinted at him. “How, then? I have told you already that Makeda took Garrett Weaver there under my orders,” she said.
“But why?” Rupert asked. “Why would you order her to take him there, my queen?”
The hairs on Sydney’s arms raised when her mother hesitated, the answer to come only after the queen locked eyes with her.
Nattie Gao straighted her shoulders. “I asked Makeda to bring Garrett Weaver to the Selkie’s tavern that he might see his mother again.”
His mother? Sydney wondered. How would Cristina have come down here? I never saw her with us . . .
“His mother, you say?” Rupert asked the queen. “And was she yet another shamed and banished Orc who followed you ashore?”
“No,” said Nattie. “His true, Orcinian mother died not long after her own banishment from the Painted Guard. She never told us her name before death claimed her, but she brought the boy ashore as an infant. The one he came to meet with at the Selkie’s tavern was a foster mother we paired him with. A Silkie sworn in service to me who had long wished to have a child.”
Rupert shifted. “And where is this Silkie now that we might verify your claims, my queen?”
Nattie recoiled. “You doubt me?”
“You are on trial for treason, my queen,” said Rupert, motioning to her manacles. “And lying would be among the least of your alleged crimes.” He tsked. “Or say rather, the heart of them.”
Makeda’s chains rankled before the queen could reply. “I can vouch for the queen’s story, for it is the same as the word I received of Recruit Weaver’s Silkie mother also. Sergeant Luther ordered her body hung in Selkie Square as a warning to those who would raise their hand against their Orcish masters.”
Sydney’s whole body shook at Makeda’s testament. Garrett is gone . . . and Cristina Weaver is dead? She used the end of her gown as a tissue, brushing away the snot running from her nose. She could feel the king’s eyes on her at the news, but Sydney no longer cared. What is this world? She wondered as the trial proceeded. Why is all of this happening?
Rupert approached the queen. “So, you will not deny it? This allegiance between you and the former pod mother, Makeda?”
Nattie’s brow wrinkled in question. “Makeda
is sworn to serve the crown,” she said. “She has as much allegiance to me as to the king himself.”
“And yet she abandoned her king to bring her Orcs in search of you instead,” said Rupert.
“At the king’s own order,” Nattie replied. “You said so earlier yourself, Lord Bowrider.”
Rupert shrugged and turned toward Sydney and Darius in the royal pavilion. “Apologies, my king. It seems there is some question as to your commands. Do you recall giving such an order to Pod Mother Makeda?”
Sydney glanced at the king, a weight pressing in on upon her chest, even before he spoke.
“No . . .” said Darius.
Liar! Sydney thought, even as the same betrayed expression bloomed in the faces of her mother and Makeda too. Neither spoke against the king, however – Makeda stewing in her anger, whilst Nattie looked away from him and shook her head. Fuming, Sydney started to rise until Darius glanced her way.
“Sit down,” the king quietly commanded.
“Why?” Sydney asked him, even as she obeyed. “Or else you’ll have me thrown in the tank?”
Darius nodded. “Or worse,” he said.
Sydney sneered. “Do it, then,” she said. “I’m done with you using me as leverage against my mom.”
“As am I, child,” said the king. “As am I.”
“Stop doing it, then!” Sydney hissed at the king whilst Rupert’s questioning continued without them. “Stop all of this lying!”
Darius’s head snapped toward her then. “All that you’ve seen thus far, and still you believe that I am the liar here, Sydney?”
“I think you’ve been lying all my life,” she replied. “And for every lie that Mom told you, I understand now that there had to be a good reason for it!”
Darius cocked an eyebrow. “Careful now, girl,” he whispered. “Unless you would wound me further? Let you not forget – you are not my daughter. The only reason you still live is an act of kindness I would spare your mother from witnessing.”
“But not enough to threaten her with? Or to draw my real dad out of hiding, right?” Sydney glared at him. “Quill? You want to kill him too, don’t you?”
Darius sneered. “I want to face him,” said the king. “And for him to face me and answer for his crimes, if he were brave enough to do so.” He gave a lazy nod toward the crowd and then the tank of empty water. “And it would seem your true father is proving reluctant in both that regard and the message sent to him to come rescue you and your whore mother. Perhaps he’s not as brave you and she ever believed him to be.”
“Or he’s being smart and knows you’re laying a trap for him,” said Sydney. “In which case, you’re the one who should be careful, my king.” She spat the last. “Because when Quill finds you, he’s going to kill you and everyone else you sent to try and stop him from it.”
Darius chuckled. “Even if it were the Blackfin to seek him out?”
Doubt gnawed at Sydney then, her memory drawing on Yvla dying in Malik’s arms as he squeezed her to death. Gritting her teeth, she resolved to not reveal such fears to the king. “Especially the Blackfin,” said Sydney. “Quill will kill all of you when he gets the chance.”
Darius smirked. “Let’s give him that chance, then, shall we?” he asked, sneering. “Perhaps your savage father needs more encouragement to prove his supposed bravery . . . just as it seems you need further evidence of your mother’s lies.”
Further evidence? Sydney cowed as the king looked away from the trial proceedings and gave a curt nod to someone she could not see.
A chorus of silver horns sounded a moment later, calling the trial to halt. So too did the horn’s sounding draw the attention of Sydney and the crowd to a host of newcomers.
A scowling Malik Blackfin emerged at the head of two lines, at least twenty Painted Guard soldiers behind him in all. Their faces covered by jet-black visors, Sydney trembled at the weight of their armored footfalls as the Orc company crossed a bridge of gangplanks to reach the central barge.
What is this? Sydney’s blood ran cold when noticing the last of the soldiers bore a pair of covered litters between them on their shoulders. Long and rectangular, both litters were draped in black cloth with a white streak down the middle. Sydney thought the look of them like coffins with the Orc soldiers acting as their grim pall-bearers. She shivered at the disquiet shared amongst all inside the Nautilus, then. What’s inside those things? Sydney wondered of the bulky litters when the Blackfin gave his soldiers their orders to leave one of the litters in plain view of the queen and Makeda. He had the other, covered litter carried up the steps of the central, water-filled tank that Sydney had assumed was meant for her. Sydney’s throat ran dry when the Orcs reached the top of the platform and placed the litter down, but left the covering upon it. What’s inside those things? Her skin prickled in wondered question as the king resumed his place beside her, his face like a mask of stone for all that occurred before him.
With the Blackfin returned, Rupert relented his position as inquisitor back to its former host. Unlike all the times she had seen Malik Blackfin before, Sydney found him grim-faced and frowning as he turned toward the king.
“Apologies for my early absence, Your Grace,” he said. “But my Orcs and I have found further evidence to bring forward against the condemned, if you will hear it.”
The king nodded. “I will allow it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Proceed, Blackfin.”
Sydney’s eyes darted back and forth between the pair of litters and her mother too.
Nattie’s gaze signaled that she recognized an apex predator when the Blackfin ignored his sister, Makeda, to approach the queen instead. Still, Sydney also saw a fierceness in her mother’s steely eyes that warned she would not be lured by whatever tricks were soon to be had in attempting to reign her in.
“My queen,” said the Blackfin, granting Nattie a solemn nod before continuing. “My Orcs and I have something for you to see and verify.”
“To judge the spectacle you made just now, you have proof enough already,” said Nattie, her voice shaking in such a way that stabbed an icy fear into Sydney with every word spoken. “But, if you mean to show me something, then do it now and cease your pretense.”
“In time,” the Blackfin toyed with her. “First, I would have you answer some of my own questions about this supposed allegiance you’ve denied having with my sister.”
Makeda stirred. “There is no allegiance between us,” she cried. “I swore myself to the crown and whoever wears it. The queen forsook her title the moment she made a vow to never return to the Salt and then stepped ashore.”
Malik tsked. “Interesting that you should claim allegiance to ‘whoever’ wears the crown, sister. I should think King Darius would be most offended by such a claim, especially since you bore no mention, or loyalty, in his name.”
“I have served the king long and loyally these many years in your absence, brother,” Makeda replied. “If King Darius were offended by my service, he has made no remark of it until now.”
“Perhaps because he only recently learned of your continued betrayal,” said Malik.
“What betrayal?” Makeda. “If you would make a claim against me, let you provide some proof, at least.”
“I have,” Malik gave a lazy wave to both covered litters his soldiers stood guard over. “Or, say rather, enough evidence to pass judgement on you and the queen.”
“Tricks, you mean,” said Makeda. “I say these litters of yours are nothing more than a ruse. A hope you maintain to pin your notions on and climb further in the people’s esteem.” She spat. “But I know your ways, brother. You will neither convince, nor fool me, into giving you a lie to strengthen yours.”
Malik sighed. “Regrettably, there are no lies hidden in these litters, sister. Only more harsh truths come to light for those bold enough to seek them out. All to strike at the heart of their meaning.”
“Strike away, then,” said Makeda. “I have no fear of your questions,
or your lies.”
“Perhaps not,” said Malik. “The truth, however, as Lord Bowrider so explicitly detailed for us today, is that you did indeed have a special relationship with Recruit Garrett Weaver . . . and he is conveniently the only Orc unaccounted for among those who were sent out that night. I wonder, sister, is it possible that Recruit Weaver were taken hostage by the Nomads who killed these other Orcs?”
Makeda glowered at him. “Anything is possible.”
“Aye, it is,” said Malik, his grin widening. “I seem to remember a similar circumstance, albeit from a time long ago, when another Orc was taken captive by Nomads . . . and all others in her pod were left for slaughter. This once-captive Orc was later miraculously returned to us unharmed too. Aye, and delivered by the same savages who had murdered those loyal brother and sister seawolves from her pod. Tell me, sister . . . do you remember your own time as a prisoner among the Nomads, Makeda?”
“I remember you and your cowards fleeing that battle, brother,” said Makeda. “Just as you have continued fleeing from duty, sacrifice, and honor all your life.”
Malik continued on, unbothered. “So, you do recall spending time among the Nomads . . .”
“Aye,” Makeda squirmed at her post. “As any prisoner must do when held against their will.”
“And yet when you returned to this glorious city, one might think you would have received a hero’s welcome,” Malik played to the crowd. “One to not only risk the Nomad hostiles, but to survive them too!”
“One might think that,” Makeda acknowledged. “But they would be wrong, wouldn’t they?”
“They would indeed,” said Malik. “For instead of being paraded about the city and lauded for your bravery, you retreated from public life for a lengthy time thereafter. Why?”
Makeda’s cheeks tightened. “‘An Orc without her pod is nothing,’” she said finally. “I learned the true meaning of such words that day when the Nomads slew all others in my pod and took me captive. When I returned here to my home . . . I was ashamed for living when all others from my pod did not. Though I doubt shame is something you would know anything of, brother.”
Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 Page 33