Fractured Loyalties

by Greg Alldredge

  “I am Kanika of the Phoenix.” She paused for a moment, considering her options, if she should risk angering another ship. A ship that held the advantage of position if a fight broke out. “Let me talk to Doc. I have no objections to letting him come over. Might I ask how your crew was wounded?”

  He didn’t hesitate. He shouted across the water, “Fighting slavers.”

  “Sure, we can parley,” Kanika shouted back, then motioned for her crew to stand. The crew on the Phoenix cheered in excitement and was greeted by a louder shout from the Coyote as more crew stood. They were all armed and ready for a fight. The Coyote had laid a trap for an unsuspecting slaver ship.

  <=OO=>

  Frequently between combating groups, parley normally called for neutral ground. It stood as a way for forces to meet while limiting the threat of ambush. With no written history, the procedure for the meeting had always been around. As Talen first suggested the conference, he automatically became the host. The closest neutral ground became the small strip of beach. The Coyote weighed anchor and moved closer to shore. The meeting needed to begin one hour after being called. Kanika would not be late.

  “Doc, you have any problem coming with me to help their wounded?” Kanika watched as her crew readied her longboat.

  “No, I know the Mother will watch over me. Durra’ah has a place in her heart for surgeons and crazy people. I tend to fulfill both requirements.”

  Lizzie stood by Kanika. Never far from her side, Kanika sent her away when she wanted time alone in her cabin. “I’m coming as well. I’ll not let the Mother take credit for this meeting. It’s all Anshika’s doing,” Lizzie swiftly added.

  “Great, with two goddesses watching over us, we should be safe. As long as crazy Sinead or Harper don’t stick their noses into our business, we should be fine.”

  Kanika had never been overly religious, but she knew better than to tempt the gods. Harper, the conjoined twins of fate, had a way of sticking it up your ass and breaking it off when you badmouthed the deities.

  “Mister Bran, you have the ship while we're ashore. I’m not expecting any trouble, but you know what to do if there is.”

  Her first officer, Bran, quickly answered with a smart, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  She knew he wanted to go ashore with her, but the trust between her and the other officers hadn’t grown to a high enough level where she would leave them without Bran there to keep an eye.

  The longboat, filled with the requisite thirteen passengers for a parley, was lowered into the water. Another strange custom for the tête-à-tête. Thirteen was considered a lucky number, so for the best of luck, each side coming to a conference would travel with thirteen individuals. This made for some extremely huge summits, but tradition can be a hard thing to break.

  As Kanika’s longboat made its approach, she was surprised at the amount of work that took place in such a short time.

  Captain Talen and his crew did an incredible amount of preparation in the hour that they had to prepare. A spare lateen sail was brought ashore, the triangle material rigged as a shade for the meeting with poles of driftwood used to support two corners. These were double lashed down with rocks and spikes securing the ends. More logs were hauled in for seats.

  Talen stood waiting for her arrival. He offered a hand to each person as they came ashore. At first, she was drawn to him because of the odd light tone of his hair, but when they came face to face, she blinked, surprised to see he had the strangest unearthly color of eyes. They were as deep blue as the darkest water in the voids. Her entire life, she’d never seen such striking eyes. She became accustomed to shades of brown or pure black, but never blue. Before her stood a true freak of nature.

  Captain Talen, as customary, offered Kanika the choice of seats. As there was little difference between the two, she chose the one to her left. They waited for everyone to be in position before the two parties sat in unison.

  Kanika started the discussion as the visitor. “We would like to thank our host for such luscious accommodations.” This was the traditional opening, no matter how base or luxurious the meeting hall. This was her scripted line as the visitor.

  Captain Talen continued the ceremony. “You flatter us with your kind words. I only wish we had more to offer. If you are content with the meeting place, I would like to open the discussions.”

  Kanika had witnessed several parleys, many held on the beach like this or a tavern in port, but this was her first to be the lead negotiator. “I am content. May the gods smile down upon our groups. Let the negotiations begin.” The rites finished, the two crews were now free to converse openly.

  All were silent.

  “Captain Kanika, you’re probably wondering why I asked you for this meeting?” Talen began. The others in his crew remained silent, watching.

  “The thought crossed my mind. Most captains would steer clear of a vessel flying a yellow flag.”

  “I agree, but your craft is of singular importance to me and my crew. May I ask how you acquired it?”

  Kanika could feel the men and women that came with her stiffen with the question. “You may ask, but I am hesitant to answer until you tell me why the information is of any importance.”

  “It’s quite simple, really. We need your doctor to help treat several of my crew who became wounded fighting slavers who travel in the same style of ship. I know you and your crew are not slavers. You don’t have the feel about you. I’m curious how you acquired one of their ships.”

  “I think you answered your own question in your mind, but if you need to hear it from my lips… We were cargo in that ship. We escaped, killed the crew, and took their ship.” Kanika spoke in such a cool voice it startled even her.

  “And you led the revolt?” Talen smiled as he spoke. “What gives you the right to captain a ship? Not anyone can take a ship and call themselves a captain. Maybe the little lady needs some help.”

  Kanika chuckled at the audacity of the man sitting across from her. She would have found him very attractive if not for the unnatural color of his eyes. Her right hand reached over her shoulder and instinctively found the handle for her officer’s sword. She stood and drew the weapon from its scabbard in one fluid motion, holding it in front of her.

  The Coyote’s crew reacted by reaching for their weapons. Talen stayed them all with a raised finger.

  “I am the captain of the Phoenix through the vote of the crew and judicial combat. I was the first officer of the Resolute. I ask you, Talen, what gives you the right to lead your ship. It takes more than bleached hair and a smile to claim a title. Maybe the little man needs some help.” Kanika knew that by tradition if blood were spilled during a parley, the attacking party would be damned by all the gods for all eternity. They would be cast into the hole of the hells where they would be tormented until the end of time.

  Lucky for her, she didn’t plan to attack. She’d met too many misogynistic assholes in her day to let one more goad her into a hasty decision.

  There were a few tense moments while both crews examined each other, hands on weapons, but no one drew but Kanika. Finally, Captain Talen started a slow clap, and as the tempo of the applause picked up, others at the meeting joined in. “Well played, Captain, well played indeed,” Talen congratulated Kanika while he applauded.

  Feeling the tension seep from under the fly tent, Kanika sheathed her weapon and sat back down. “Shall we begin the real discussion now?” she asked.

  “Aye, that we will.” Talen stuck out his hand, the greeting of an equal. “Let’s get down to business.”

  Kanika took it with a grip as firm as his and shook it like a captain should.

  Chapter 5, Meyers Shepard:

  The garden had become a much safer place since Meyers’s crazy younger half-brother, Hayline, took up forced residence in the dungeon. None were admitted to see him. Why his father dug up that insane priestess of Durra’ah still hovered beyond his wildest imagination. All Meyers knew, he could meet Hope in the garden and
not worry about being slaughtered in a crazy game of Hayline’s.

  He strolled there now, on his way to meet his half-sister, purely by his mother’s prodding. Every time he thought about his mother’s idea (their union), he fought nausea. Even today he carried with him two of the most robust bottles of prickly pitch. It came from his private stash.

  If a person waited to pick the prickly fruit at just the right time, it could be turned into prickly wine. Not far from Perdition on the banks of the Green River in the dry foothills, they grew prickly fruit. Most of the fruit went directly from the vine to Perdition, but a select few pieces were turned into wine.

  Meyers never cared for the taste of the wine himself. It had a bittersweet flavor. It often reminded him of old memories. But if you took that wine and ran it through a unique heating and cooling device, you got out something completely different. It had a sweet burning flavor to it, that if you drank enough, three or four cups, your eyes would cross. All your worries would disappear. A magical elixir, Meyers would drink it when he was sad, when happy, or when he just had nothing to do.

  His uncle, his father’s youngest brother, created the machine. When you’re third in line for the throne before your older brothers even start having children, you must find hobbies to keep yourself from plotting the murder of your family. Uncle Roddie stayed true to his word. As far as Meyers knew, he never conspired to take anyone’s life. He was much too busy creating delicious potions that would change a person’s outlook on the world as a whole.

  Meyers loved his Uncle Roddie, as he always kept a bottle or two waiting for him. Of course, he always did a good job of keeping his uncle in the gold he needed to buy the raw materials. As far as Meyers was concerned, it became an arrangement where everyone benefited.

  Meyers’s other uncle, Usborne, left many years ago to explore the shards surrounding Perdition. He never returned. When younger, he play-traveled with his uncle, and together they fought the monsters that legends described living beyond the cities. Meyers never found the courage to venture much farther than his favorite prickly fruit winery in the dry foothills, but when he became Principal all that would change.

  Before his meeting, he tasted one of the bottles he carried. He told himself it was to ensure its quality, but in reality, it helped build the grit to spend time with Hope.

  A slight smile cracked the corners of his mouth just as he found Hope sitting on her favorite bench next to the waterfall and pond near the garden. She smiled back. Meyers was sure she mistook his tender expression as meant for her instead of his long-lost explorer uncle. Not that it mattered much. He planned on being tight before he spent too much time with his half-sister.

  “Are you in such a good mood to see me? I see you brought two bottles and nothing to drink from.” Hope smiled back.

  Meyers wasn’t sure what to think of that. With glasses on, her eyes looked so beady, he wasn’t really sure what to think of them. “This drink is so smooth, I promise you won’t miss the cups.” He was surprised when she patted the bench next to her, offering him a place to sit. He shrugged and sat. That was when he realized the bench concealed a blanket and basket. “Expecting someone?” he asked as he pointed to the basket behind her.

  “I thought, for something different, you and I could eat a little lunch and discuss our plans. If anyone happened upon us, it would just look like a brother and sister having a little chat.”

  Meyers fought hard to control his shudder. “I admit, it is better for us to work together in this endeavor, but if we’re going to become husband and wife, would you please stop referring to us as brother and sister? Even if we are only half-siblings, for some reason the thought doesn’t seem right.”

  “You misinterpret. From what I’ve read, close family ties are often what make for the most powerful of unions. History is full of examples where close relatives married to retain power.” Hope took one of the bottles from his hands and held it up to the light for inspection. “What is this?”

  Happy she finally changed the subject, Meyers began to speak about something he didn’t need to feign passion about. “This, my dear Hope, is proof that the gods exist and at least one of them, Zinan, wants us to be happy.”

  “I never thought of you as a religious person, but it would make sense that you would follow the god of debauchery.”

  “It’s no worse than you wanting to snuggle up with the followers of Anshika.”

  “Just because I wish to learn about magic doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into a priestess of the moon.” She bent over and picked up the basket that sat behind her and handed it to Meyers. “Come along, I found a place deeper in the gardens where we should be able to speak in peace and without interruption.” She stood, expecting him to follow her.

  Which he did, watching her shapeless body in her straight shift of a dress walk a few paces. When he felt no reaction to the movement, he gazed at his crotch and mouthed the words, “Come on, you can do it.” He took a few long strides to catch up. Once he drew close enough to talk without shouting, he whispered to Hope, “Do you have any idea where Soto found that… woman who has been spending so much time with Hayline?”

  She continued walking down a narrowing garden path. “It took some doing, but I did discover she’s not from the city. She happened to be visiting from an outlying hermitage. Good or bad fortune had her in the temple when Father went looking for a priestess. She was the only one that volunteered to follow him.”

  “I guess we should be thankful, the court is much calmer without that crazy bastard running around.” Meyers smiled as he remembered, technically, he was the bastard.

  “Originally, I assumed she agreed to follow because she didn’t know what she walked into, but now I’m not so sure. They have been together for three days, I’m not certain if she’s crazy or crazy like a fennec.”

  Meyers tried to work out the reference but couldn’t. “How do you mean?”

  “There’s nothing that says a priestess of Durra’ah can’t marry. What if she is insinuating herself into his life where he can’t survive without her? The next natural step would be a union between the two of them. It would make our task that much harder, even harder if they produce children.” She pushed her way through the boughs of two trees that covered the path. When she released the branches, they slapped him painfully in the face, but he held his complaint to himself.

  “You honestly think she would use his insanity to better her lot in life?” He did a quick scan of the grove and admitted to himself the place she found was very secluded. The canopy from the low growing fruit trees covered them from the buildings above and the hedges that surrounded the area made the small plot of grass very intimate.

  “Why not? You are, or at least you’re willing to use your sister to better your lot in life.”

  Meyers ignored her dig and grabbed the wool blanket from the top of the basket that she brought. He found a suitable place on the grass and spread it out wide.

  “I was impressed your mother’s information proved so accurate and timely. Almost like she witnessed the events as they happened,” Hope mentioned while he worked. She knelt and helped him spread the blanket.

  “Hmm?”

  She opened the basket laying items out. “The two murders in Zar. You were right, she was two days early with the news. She knew right after it happened. You were one murder off, of course, but outstanding intelligence.”

  “Oh, yes, the murders in Zar. She has a source I wish… wait a moment, when did I tell you about that?” Meyers wracked his brain, trying to remember if he told her or not.

  “You told me in my study, don’t you remember?” Meyers noted she had the most innocent face a rat could ever have. The more time spent together, the more he grew accustomed to her rat face.

  “I don’t think I told—” He plopped his butt onto the blanket.

  “Are you going to open that bottle, or will I die of thirst over here?” Hope leaned her head back, exposing her long neck to him. Her finger
s traced down from her ear to her collarbone. Meyers thought it was almost like she flirted with him.

  The cork popped out of the bottle easily since he had already tasted it before the meeting began. He offered the bottle to Hope, since he already felt a decent buzz.

  “Thank you.” She took the bottle and tipped it back. When the warm liquid hit her lips, she sprayed a good portion of it over Meyers’s face.

  “Hey, watch it! That stuff is hard to come by.” Meyers wiped the liquid from his face and licked his hand, not wanting to waste a drop.

  “I’m sorry. I expected wine not something so powerful, from you.” Meyers ignored the dig again.

  He looked at her slender neck and imagined his hands wrapped around it and how easy it would be to end her in this very secluded place she’d chosen.

  She managed to take a healthy sip this time and not spray it over the garden. “This is delicious. Where did you get it?”

  “If I tell you my source, you can’t browbeat him for more. It takes a long time to make.” He watched her take another sip.

  She lowered the bottle, and he assumed she tried to look coyly over the bottle at him while batting her eyelashes. “I promise I will be good.”

  Meyers wasn’t drunk enough for this, so he took the bottle from her, smiled, and slammed back three large gulps.

  “Hey!” she called out as he took the bottle.

  “Believe it or not, Uncle Roddie makes it from prickly wine. I call it prickly pitch.” He handed the bottle back and rolled onto his back.

  “It is delicious.” She took the bottle back and moved next to him.

  “Have you figured out how to conquer the world through magic?” He smiled up at the canopy at his joke.

  “No. Have you figured out how to do it through intrigue?”

  Meyers tilted his head and looked into Hope’s beady little eyes. In a soft voice he said, “If this is going to work, we should stop throwing barbs at one another.”