Fractured Loyalties

by Greg Alldredge

  “No, I have something better, but let me get this put down where you still bleed. You are not messing up my sheets.” She continued to work as they spoke. “Tell me what you remember.

  “I was near the market, and there was a loud noise. Many people were hurt. I don’t know what caused it.”

  She felt he left a significant amount of information out, but she didn’t want to talk about that subject, anyway. “I guess you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not sure why…” He trailed off his next comment.

  “Yea, me either. Let’s get you into bed. Just don’t bleed if you don’t have to.” She set the powder down next to the grain alcohol.

  He needed her help to stand. The fool tried to climb into her room, but now he lay helpless as a baby. His knee barely worked. He would be down for a few days. Unknown to him, this visit would cost extra.

  “Thanks,” he grunted once he lay in her bed. “You said you have something for the pain?”

  “Yeah, I sure do.” She wandered to a dresser at the far side of the room and pulled a bottle off the top. She called it tea. Many people drank it to get high, she used it to relieve the pain of childbirth. “Here, take a swig of this.” She handed him the uncorked bottle, and he did as she told him to and quickly started coughing it back up.

  “What is that?” he sputtered.

  “Something to make you sleepy.” And it did. He dropped out before he handed back the bottle. Six rescued the container from his hand before it spilled.

  “It works well for over-ambitious customers as well.” She chuckled to herself while she tried to figure out how she would need to rearrange her schedule.

  This man might help raise her station in life. “Not bad for a former slave and now-free whore.” She spoke to herself while covering up his nude body with a fresh sheet.

  She moved to put up the bottle, safe out of reach from prying eyes. For herself, a few special flowers were added to an herbal tea that would take the edge off the stress of the day. A comfortable chair was moved closer to the bed. Someone should watch over him to make sure his wounds didn’t open and bleed all over the sheets, she thought.

  There were things she knew in the world, things she forced her mind to not think about. As a girl, she grew up listening to the tales of the older women in the house. Tales passed down about a time before cities. She ignored most of them, but over the years, she learned the more she thought she knew, the less she truly understood. Tales of monsters and magic from the olden times. She once dismissed them as yarns to keep the young in line. Now she was not so sure. She didn’t want to tempt fate by thinking of things better left unthought. She knew people could read her very thoughts if they had a mind to.

  It was evident from the way the stranger dressed, he had been at the mayor’s daughter’s wedding. Word of the dress code passed through the streets like the morning wind. Everyone knew what the elite would be wearing. That was yesterday, and he hadn’t changed clothes yet. That wasn’t too strange. He might have found the bed of a willing partner at the wedding, and he did the walk of shame after the fact. The other option was the darker one. The news of the coup attempt traveled fast. The city’s guard still searched for the people involved. One son dead from poison was terrible, if it had been the entire family— She needed to think of something else. He might have been an innocent partygoer caught up in the sweep.

  The man was apparently at the event today, the explosion that rocked a better part of the city. He even remembered being at the market. He must be fortunate to still breathe.

  She sighed slightly, looking over his nicely bronzed body that lay now only half covered by the sheet. He had the most wondrous eyes. She fell deep into those eyes the first time they met on the street. She was sure he knew her line of work, but he never asked. They hit it off over drinks. She would like to remember herself playing hard to get but didn’t. She’d never forgotten how quickly she spread her legs for him and didn’t blush about the thoughts.

  Of course, he should die right now. She knew he was going to be a danger to her and her way of life. It would be so easy to release a specific powder she kept under his nose, and he would be dead from coughing fits within a day. The plus of the dust, there would be no damage to her precious sheets.

  The tea tasted brilliant, the cool liquid soothed her troubled mind and calmed her jittery nerves. No, she worked too hard to save his life today. Her time spent would not be wasted to simply kill him now. She would not waste such an incredible body for what might be. She needed to keep the focus on the problems: his being stashed in her place of business. The few days that would be required for him to heal, she would need to play sick or find another room to use.

  The woman next to her got on her wrong side for arguing over trivial things. She kept few customers since her body produced an odor strong enough to seep through the walls. Perhaps the time has come for her to experience an accident? She chuckled to herself, “Death by body stench. What a way to go.”

  Food and other items she would need to collect from time to time, but it shouldn’t be too hard. It would be like an extended stay over from one of her clients. If need be, she could send a runner out for most of what she might need. All in all, not an undue hardship, as long as the guards didn’t come knocking, but then again, she didn’t even know if they looked for him.

  “Damn it all anyway.” She drank her tea and sank into her comfy chair. If it was her time to die, then let it come. She had tea to keep her happy and an excellent view from where she sat.

  Chapter 4, Kanika:

  The Phoenix sat at anchor a few miles south of the dead village they stumbled upon. The small cove even had fresh water falling from the plateau above. At low tide, there was a small beach created by the silt brought down from above. This was a perfect place for the crew to relax and gather strength before setting sail again. The crew trained hard and worked harder to supply the ship. By Kanika’s estimate, if they followed the shard north and east, they would eventually reach the Great Beach. From there if she followed it east, the ship should eventually reach Abaraka and civilization.

  She sat in her cabin. The heat of the day made it almost unbearable, but she had not felt right after the last shore excursion. Falling through the hole in the roof had torn open her stitches, and her leg oozed clear pus regularly now. She had a hard time keeping up with the flow. Given its location, it was even harder to see or keep clean.

  She stood in the middle of her room, a small handheld silver mirror in her hand pointed at her ass, when there came a knock at the door. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. “What do you want? I’m busy,” she shouted at the door, perhaps a bit too loud.

  “Captain, I need to talk with you.” Kanika knew the voice well enough. It was the ship's surgeon, commonly called Doc.

  “Can it wait?” She looked for something to cover her lower half and settled on the bedding still crumpled on her rack.

  “Not really, I think it is better if I see you now,” Doc insisted.

  She really didn’t want to deal with this, her head felt like she’d been drinking all night, and there lingered a horrid taste in her mouth. With the sheet wrapped around her body, she hobbled to the door, throwing back the latch.

  Doc pushed the door in slowly to make sure she was alone. His bushy gray eyebrows rose as he inspected the captain and her quarters. “How do you feel?”

  “You came down here to ask that?” She limped to the bed.

  “I have not seen you since we last got underway, only Bran has seen you. The crew is starting to talk.” Doc followed her to her bed and reached for her forehead.

  Kanika tried to move her head away from his touch, but he insisted till the back of his hand rested on her forehead.

  “I’ve had things on my mind.” She spoke with a firm voice.

  “How long has your face been this gray and your fever been running?” He moved to the basin where she had been cleaning her wound. He washed his hands. S
he caught his gaze lingering over the soiled cloth she used.

  “Listen, I just don’t feel well…”

  “Since you were so close to the bodies, you might have caught it you know. You don’t want the rest of the crew to catch the pox.”

  “The whole place was dead.”

  “Some might have left on the last ship.”

  “Maybe you should kill me now, dump my body over the side.”

  “If you have it, we all have it. How is your leg?”

  “It hurts like the hells.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Kanika was used to showing men her ass, she’d felt it was one of her better assets, but she hesitated for the old doctor.

  “Captain, I’m your doctor. If you can’t trust me, who can you trust? Now roll over and show me your wound.”

  Kanika relented and peeled away the bedding that concealed her lower half. She bent over her bed to show the doctor her wound.

  “You tore the stitches. It should be healing better than this.” He squeezed the wound and grunted. “Not good…”

  “What isn’t good?”

  “You got clear shit coming out of it. If it starts to change color, I might need to take your leg. I told you to keep it clean.” She heard him pull out a knife from its sheath.

  “If you haven’t noticed, it is in a hard place to clean.”

  “Yeah, I know. This is going to hurt a little.” He lied. She screamed as he took the knife and reopened the swollen wound. “I warned you.”

  She felt the crap stream down her leg where the cut drained. He moved to the basin and grabbed a clean cloth. The sound of material tearing reached her ears while she bit the pillow to keep from screaming more.

  “This is going to hurt a little more,” he said just before taking the material and packing the deep wound. “That might help.”

  She only nodded, her face buried to hide her tears.

  “I hope you are only fighting the effects of the knife wound, but in case it is more, I am recommending we hoist the quarantine flag. If another ship comes along, we don’t want the risk of infecting them.”

  Over the past hundred or so years, several colored flags became common through the civilized world for communication. The origins were lost in history, but they held true for most sailors Kanika encountered. One of the most sacred, the flag of truce. The white flag flown to keep a craft on peace missions safe. It was so warring parties could speak with one another.

  The next a blood-red flag. This meant the ship carried wounded and was unable to defend itself. Mostly in time of war this was respected to keep each side’s healer ships safe.

  Finally, the bright yellow quarantine flag. This meant the ship carried an unknown sickness onboard. The expectation: keep all other ships at bay to limit the spread of the illness.

  She grunted out her question, “Do you think it is really necessary?”

  “As far as I can tell, none of the other crew is showing symptoms, but it would be irresponsible of me as a surgeon to not fly the yellow flag. At least until you recover, and the crew shows no signs of sickness, say in two days.” The doctor stood and walked over to a rack that held bottles on the far wall and picked one that contained a clear liquid.

  “You will need to explain it to the crew, or they might jump ship and swim ashore to escape.”

  He pulled the cork and smelled the contents, grunting his satisfaction. “Oh, I will.” He strolled back over to her bed. “I will make it very clear that they would probably die much quicker on land than on the ship.” He stood over her. “This will hurt more than the last time.”

  “Wait!” She knew what he prepared to do, so her words stayed his hand. “Tell them it is a ploy to keep raiders away. Tell them it is a pretense to give us time to train in safety. That should keep them from running. Tell them I’m sick with…”

  “Diarrhea, no one would fake that,” Doc interjected.

  “If you must, yes.”

  Doc raised the bottle and soaked the rag stuffed into Kanika’s thigh with the straight grain alcohol.

  She filled her pillow with screams yet again.

  “I will be back in a few hours to soak your ass in alcohol again. Keep it uncovered and in the air. It needs to dry out.”

  “Doc, you have a shitty bedside manner.”

  “My job is to keep you alive not to baby you. Now do as you're told.”

  <=OO=>

  The hours passed, and like clockwork, Doc came and poured more of the burning liquid into the rags stuffed in her leg. Twice a day he changed the dressing. After the first day, the swelling began to subside, and Kanika’s fever dropped to a more manageable temperature.

  Late in the second day, Kanika asked, “Is the crew still well?” as Doc prepared to change her dressing.

  “Yes, you are the only one to get sick. Your cut is looking much better now. I think the worst has passed. If you like, tomorrow you can start wearing pants again, but you must keep it clean and dry. If it gets infected again, I have more powerful and painful treatments.”

  She felt he did not pack the wound full this time, only left it open to the air. “What, no pain this time?”

  “Only if you want it. I will bring a dressing for it tomorrow that should stay in place better. It will be uncomfortable, but it will need to be tight to keep from falling off.”

  Before Kanika made a comment about the Doc binding her up, there came a cry from the main deck, “Ship, ho!”

  The Phoenix experienced three encounters over the last two days, but since they hoisted the quarantine flag, no one entered the cove.

  “Another harpy looking for a meal.” Kanika smiled as she spoke, in a much better mood since her leg no longer felt like it burned from the inside out.

  There came a banging on the door. “Captain, this one is coming in.” That was all Bran needed to say. Kanika jumped up like a shot looking for her clothes.

  “This one must be braver than the rest.”

  “Or it saw through our ruse.” She found her makeshift clothes and got dressed, instantly noticing someone had washed her clothes. She would worry how they got into her cabin twice without her knowing it later. “Doc, see that the crew is hidden, last thing we want is to look too healthy.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Doc said as he headed out while she slipped on her hard leather cuirass.

  “And, Doc, make sure they are all armed.” They were still in no shape to fight, and the crew moved about still wobbly controlling the ship. A chase might prove as deadly as an all-out assault.

  Off the wall she grabbed her recurved sword and strapped the scabbard to her back, just in case.

  On the deck, she found Bran crouched down behind the gunnel near the helm.

  “Good to see you, Captain. The crew is ready.” That was all he said when she duck-walked beside him. Her ass hurt the entire length of her journey.

  She peeked through a scupper at the inbound ship. “They fly the white flag,” she said to herself.

  “And we fly the yellow.”

  “Yes, but we just came in contact with a pox. Better to be safe than sorry. If they want to talk, we will talk.”

  “Captain, are you sure? The crew—” Bran gave her a worried look.

  Kanika cut him off, “The crew will be fine to talk. Hoist the white flag over the yellow.” She stood in full view, inviting an attack from a hail of bolts… or larger weapons. “Keep the crew hidden until I give the word.”

  Standing, she spied the ship lowering most of its sails. They came in slow, probably ready for a fight. With a broader beam, the approaching craft outweighed the Phoenix. Low in the water, it must carry cargo. She estimated it had a round belly. A merchant ship, like the Resolute, made for hauling loads not running fast like the Phoenix.

  The new craft swung wide, the bow pointed toward the Phoenix’s aft. They dropped anchor not thirty yards away. It appeared the whole crew of twenty moved about the deck, they looked as ill-fitting as the Phoenix. Kanika estimated they ou
tnumbered them three to one. The shots never came.

  “Ahoy to the quarantine ship.” A man stood on the prow and shouted across the distance.

  Kanika had never seen anyone like him. His brown hair bleached nearly honey colored from his time in the sun. The tips, the color of flaxen, flashed in the bright light. His skin dark brown from so much time on deck. Kanika didn’t know what to think.

  She did manage a reply. “Ahoy yourself, and we are the Phoenix.” She stood as proudly as possible. At least her ass had stopped leaking pus.

  “Aye, good to meet you Phoenix. Do you need assistance?” The fool, standing there, wide open for attack. Either he fancied himself extremely brave or would prove to be enormously stupid.

  “No, we came upon a pox-ridden village a few miles north. I thought it better to keep the crew here until our surgeon assured me it safe to travel on to the next settlement.” She looked down at Bran who lay hidden beside her.

  “That was a wise and noble move. Not all captains would do that. I believe we found it yesterday. That was no village, but a slave compound making salts.” She felt many eyes on her as they spoke.

  “Yeah, we figured that.” She took a small risk with the next sentence. “We burned it out to stop the spread and keep the slavers from restarting the place.” Kanika stayed alert. The man had not told them his ship’s name. A religious man would not mention the name of his ship for fear the crazy bitch Sinead would take note of the evil deeds and list it on her ledger of death.

  The blond hair man scanned the cove. “This is the best place to restock water for some distance. Can we share the anchorage?”

  “It is a free world. We were preparing to pull in the yellow and continue on our way,” Kanika lied, but he didn’t know that.

  “Captain, I didn’t catch your name. I am Captain Talen of the Coyote. If you have the time to stay, I have several hurt crewmembers that could use a surgeon. I would like to discuss a few things with you at length.”