“Seriously, now, what did you expect?” Marta asked.
“Something a bit less dungeon-like would have been nice,” Sela said. “Though I do suppose that was a foolish idea.”
It was true enough that their accommodations were not exactly luxurious by most standards, but other than the bars on the windows and the locked door, there was little to suggest an actual dungeon. For a start, there was no moldy straw, and so far as Marta had seen, no rats. The bed was hard but clean, and there was even a primitive but functional garderobe. She had no trouble imagining that most of Boranac’s “guests” didn’t fare so well.
“This is not a dungeon, and we’re not dead,” Marta pointed out, “And considering Boranac’s reputation, that’s almost surprising.”
“Almost?”
“He knows who and what I am. And if he didn’t before, it’s a certainty that Callowyn told him. The fact that we’re here and not rotting on a pole or in an actual dungeon tells me something that I needed to know—Boranac wants something.”
“And what if he hadn’t?”
“Do I really need to answer that? Honestly, Sela…. Yes, I took a chance with both our lives. If you’re accompanying me because you think I’m infallible or even that I always know what I’m doing—“
“I’m accompanying you because I want my father’s swords back,” Sela said. “And, no offense, but I often get the impression you don’t know what you’re doing, though you put on a good show. If Boranac wants something, well, everyone does. Including especially you. What makes these ‘Laws of Power’ so important?”
“You’ve seen the craja,” Marta said softly.
“Yes, but what has – “
“Every craja I’ve ever encountered, and that number is in the hundreds, is a former witch of the Arrow Path.”
Sela didn’t say anything, and after a little while Marta continued, “If I don’t find all the Laws, and learn to use them….”
“You’re afraid you’re going to end up as a craja,” Sela said. “You think amassing power will prevent that from happening.”
“Yes.” It felt a little strange to hear that single word, understanding what it meant, but knowing it for truth. Knowing that she was afraid.
“What if you’re wrong?”
“Then I’m doomed,” Marta said.
Sela shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. What if amassing power is not how you avoid that fate? I never met your mother, but I’ve spent a great deal of time listening when you speak of her. And I ask myself, would such a person as Black Kath end her existence as a craja? Now, it’s true that I know very little of the matter, but I’m a hunter, and a tracker, and I know when something is wrong, something is out of place. Your mother and a craja? Out of place.”
“She had me, and transferred the debt. I don’t blame her…most of the time. But I won’t do the same thing. One way or the other, it ends with me.”
Sela looked thoughtful. “You said this…Power, will answer questions?”
“Sometimes, when she chooses, and always at a price.”
Sela considered. “What if the reason those witches became craja had nothing to do with the debt? Have you asked her that one?”
Marta smiled. “As a witch of the Arrow Path, I always know the cost of any question before I ask. Believe me when I tell you—I cannot afford what Amaet would demand for that one. Instead I will risk my life and yours and anyone else’s if I need to do so to obtain all the Laws. I am not proud of this, but that doesn’t change the fact. Do you understand me, Sela? I will do what I have to do.”
“To obtain my father’s legacy, I will do the same, Marta, for all that I am grateful to you. For now your desires and my own are the same, and that is enough. If we are in a mess because of those desires, I’ll take my share of the blame. Yet, as you said, we’re not dead yet.”
Marta gazed out the barred window. “Fair enough, but matters may still not go as we’d all like. I gambled that a man like Boranac almost always wants something that he does not have. The fact that we are in this room and not dead or in a proper dungeon suggests that I am right. Even so, the questions yet to be answered are ‘what does the man want and how much does he want it?’ The answers will decide what happens next.”
It appeared that Boranac was in no hurry to supply those answers. Bonetapper and Longfeather appeared at their window periodically to report, but so far neither had been able to discover much. The business of Boranac’s fortress—one could hardly call it a palace—appeared to go on as usual: guards were posted and changed, tradesmen and farmers brought supplies, couriers arrived and departed. Longfeather was the only one with any firsthand knowledge of the normal pace of activity around the Chief of the Five Isles, and he reported that nothing he had seen suggested anything unusual.
“I rather suspected he would hold court and bring you before him, make a show of it,” Longfeather said during one such visit. “He likes spectacle. If that is his plan, he’s in no hurry to implement it. I confess myself puzzled.”
Hold court….
Marta felt a twinge. It was not the sort of thing she might have felt upon touching, however fleetingly, a Law of Power. Yet she had the feeling that what Longfeather had just said might have instead touched upon a hint of what it was that Boranac wanted. Now all she needed to do was to wait. She knew she’d find out soon enough if her hunch was correct.
As things turned out, she didn’t have to wait very long at all. After a discreet knock, the door of their quarters opened and a rather nervous-looking young soldier opened his mouth to speak, but Marta didn’t wait for him.
“Chief Boranac wants to see us,” she said.
“Y-yes. Though I should tell you that he prefers the title ‘king.’”
Marta barely suppressed a smile. “Does he now? Well, thank you for that information. Shall we go?”
The soldier waited while Marta went out the door and Sela fell into step behind her. Outside in the corridor there was another soldier who pointedly did not look at either of them, but merely said, “Follow me.” Marta and Sela quietly obeyed as the first soldier brought up the rear. Marta took the time to take another look at the inside of “King” Boranac’s fortress of a palace. She noted that her first impressions had been correct in that it was well and sturdily built. The stonework was a bit rough in places so far as the finish work was concerned, but the masonry was first-rate, with well-cut stones that did not overly rely on mortar for their hold and placement. While it wouldn’t have impressed even the most impoverished ruler on the mainland, Marta had to admit that anyone who sought to attack such a place would have had their task well and truly measured out for them.
“Now we get to find out the true nature of our host,” Marta said, glancing at Sela. The two soldiers ignored them.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re either going to have a somewhat more private audience, or we will be brought before King Boranac’s version of a royal court. Which one of those options he chooses will indicate whether the man’s reputation is deserved.” She turned to the trailing soldier, the one who had brought news of the summons. “Which one is it? Or are you allowed to say?”
“I do not know His Majesty’s intentions, nor is it my place to wonder about such things,” the young man said.
“Not your place, perhaps,” Marta said. “but when in the service of the powerful, it is always wise to have an understanding of their motivations. Failing to do so could prove dangerous. Your companion here,” she said, nodding at the soldier leading the way, “Appears to be a bit more…seasoned, perhaps, than yourself. And hasn’t had his head removed for some infraction or other. Perhaps he has taken the time to wonder about such things.”
The soldier said nothing, and after a bit Marta smiled. “Discretion. I can see that King Boranac values that, just as you see that discretion is required. Am I wrong?”
“His Majesty listens to his advisors but decides his own course,” the lead soldier said witho
ut turning around or even breaking stride. “I do what I am told, Lady.”
“A tone of politeness with a prisoner, which is not something one normally expects or required of the guard of a lowly prisoner,” Marta said.
The two soldiers made absolutely no comment, but merely escorted them down two winding staircases to an open hall, which was mostly empty except for a few servants and retainers at work. Sela and Marta were then led to a relatively small doorway of oaken planks and strips of iron. The two soldiers ushered them through with the admonishment that they were to “Wait here.”
‘Here,’ turned out to be an empty antechamber with another door beyond. Sela glanced about and, when she was certain they were alone, turned to Marta.
“What did you mean, the ‘true nature’ of this King Boranac?”
“I mean that he has a reputation for violence and piracy, both well deserved,” Marta said, “but I have never heard it said that the man was stupid. His choice of venue will demonstrate if that assessment is correct. A court with many witnesses will mean he means to make a show of us, somehow to his greater glory. For that to work he would need to be certain of this little play’s outcome. He cannot be certain, but if he believes that he is, then Boranac is an idiot. If he is an idiot, we’re both likely to die here, as we’ve already discussed, remember?”
Sela licked her lips. “I do.”
“While I think the cost of that particular play will be higher than His Majesty perhaps anticipated, a stupid man would not realize this. However, Boranac has held onto his throne, such that it is, and his position even though there is not a kingdom on the mainland which wouldn’t delight in hanging him with his own entrails. I do not believe Boranac to be a stupid man.”
“But you could be wrong.”
Marta nodded, and sighed. “Yes. I could be wrong.”
Ω
5 Boranac of the five isles
“In my time I was privileged to witness many historic events of great importance. But I wouldn’t have minded if I had been also privileged to witness them at a greater distance.” – Seb of the Kuldun Order
When the door first opened, Marta forgot to breathe for a few moments, but then relaxed. Whatever was going to happen next, Boranac was not making a show of it. True, the room was richly appointed, but it was no one’s court. There was a sturdy table with several chairs, most of which at the moment were empty, the remains of a meal, several maps, paper and supplies for writing, and one thick-bodied man of about fifty, with graying hair and beard. His crown was a plain circlet of gold, but Marta didn’t need it to realize who the man was. The only other person in the room, aside from themselves, was a guard stationed near the door they came in, apparently the one who had opened it. There was another door on the opposite wall, and Marta had no doubt that Boranac could summon more than a few guards if he felt it necessary. At the moment, it seemed, he did not. Marta gave a slight bow to the seated man and Sela copied her.
“Your Majesty,” Marta said. “To what do we owe this honor?”
“Black Kath’s Daughter,” the man said. “I was about to ask you the same question. Oh, yes. I know who you are, and thus and more to the point, what you are. What I do not know and would very much like to discover is why you are here.”
Marta smiled. “I am more than willing to tell you this, but if it so please Your Majesty, perhaps I might ask a question of you first?”
He scowled then, but finally shrugged. “What is it?”
“Why are we still alive? My companion and myself, that is.”
He chuckled softly. “If you’re referring to the alleged penalty for arriving in my realm uninvited, that is a useful rumor, but somewhat of a waste to apply in practice. Not that I never do so, mind you, for sometimes a quick execution is the only appropriate response to a person’s presence. First, however, I want to ascertain if that is, indeed, the appropriate response.”
“Such as Captain Callowyn’s unfortunate sailor?”
He just shrugged. “Unfortunate? Say rather a fool, and the cost of fools is too high. We are dependent on the sea. Mutiny is not tolerated. Surely you can understand that?”
“I understand the need for discipline, Your Majesty.”
“Well, then. Mutiny aside, I’ve found that there are very few absolutely useless people,” he said. “Though I have disposed of a few in my time, just so that we understand one another. I suspect that you are not that sort of person. In point of fact, I’m relying on that.”
As am I.
“Does that mean you wish something of me, Your Majesty?”
“That is yet another question, and I think a very dangerous one. No matter, in all fairness it is my turn now. Why are you here, Black Kath’s Daughter?”
Marta didn’t want to give up any more than she needed to, but it was clear enough that Boranac had played this particular game before.
Boranac, if I have underestimated you, be certain I will not do so again.
“My name, if you wish to use it, is Marta. We are here because I believe that there is something in your realm that I require,” she said.
“’Require’ implies a degree of need, which of course makes the item more valuable. Interesting. I don’t suppose you’d want to share what that item might be?”
“Won’t I have to do so, eventually? So I’ll not waste your time or my own—I want the sword that the pirate Longfeather gave to you, a sword created by Master Solthyr. Or is my information in error?”
Boranac didn’t say anything for several long moments. “No, your information is good. I do know the one,” he said finally. “It is a valuable blade—there are kings on the mainland who do not own such work. How do you propose to persuade me to part with it?”
“Even kings need gold,” Marta said.
Boranac grunted. “I daresay kings need it more than most people. One can be a perfectly good fisherman and have a fine life without more than a bit here and there. But a king? A king without gold or the means to acquire it doesn’t tend to remain a king.”
“You don’t want gold from me,” Marta said. “I don’t pretend to know what you do want, but if gold was required you could have sold the blade long before now. No, this matter is greater than that, and you are well aware that my presence is an opportunity, if a risky one. You are weighing the potential costs and benefits, but it really comes down to what you want and how badly do you want it?”
“Plainly spoken, and not wrong,” Boranac said. “But I do know a thing or two about the nature of dealing with a witch. If I speak my desire you will name your price. I know that you, Marta, personally want Master Solthyr’s sword. But what if that isn’t the price required of me? My understanding is that they are not always one and the same.”
“That is true,” Marta said. “I have no control over the price. It is determined by the nature of the request.”
“So if I were to state my desires, and the price you are given is not the sword, but rather something else entirely, what would you do?”
“Let me see the blade,” Marta said, “And I will tell you.”
“I’m not used to running errands, but this situation is likewise something I am not used to.” Boranac turned in his seat just far enough to reach a chest sitting against the far wall. From there he produced an oblong shape wrapped in oilcloth, which he proceeded to unwrap until he produced a bare blade that he lay carefully on the table. “Look for yourself.”
Marta glanced at Sela who bowed slightly and moved forward. The guard by the door put his hand on his hilt, but Boranac waved him back. “They haven’t come for my life, but that doesn’t mean they will get what they came for regardless.”
Sela approached the table. She didn’t try to touch the sword lying there, and after a moment she backed away.
“Well?” Marta asked.
“That is Sunset. There is no question of it,” Sela said.
Boranac frowned. “It has a name? That oaf Longfeather made no mention of it.”
“Bec
ause he is an oaf, Your Majesty,” Sela said, bowing again. “And did not fully understand what he had.”
“Well, I do. Now, then—answer my question, Lady Marta.”
“If the sword is not the price that the Arrow Path demands, I will tell you what the true price is. And if I cannot persuade you otherwise, I will depart without the sword. Is that fair?” Marta asked.
“Will you swear to abandon your interest in the sword?”
“Of course not,” Marta said. “But I will make no effort to steal it from you, if that is your concern. I will merely bide my time.”
Boranac laughed. “You are either very brave or very foolish, and frankly I’m not sure which.”
“Neither, Majesty. I merely do what I believe I need to do,” Marta said. “And refrain from making judgments when I can.”
“Rather like being a king,” Boranac said. “Spoken by a puffed-up traditional island headman. Oh, yes, I know well what is said of me on the mainland. Most of it is deserved, I assure you. That doesn’t mean I don’t hope for better, both for myself and those who will come after me. And yes, this does touch on the matter at hand.”
Marta simply waited to find out if the dice were about to tumble in her favor.
“It’s true enough that I am a pirate, but I have long since butted my head against the limits of what piracy can provide. You ask what I want and it is this—I want proper relations and regular trade between the Five Isles and the mainland kingdoms. In return I will abandon piracy and guarantee the safety of all ships in my waters.”
“A wise course, in my view, but how does this concern me?” Marta asked.
“Simple—in the eyes of the mainland domains, I am nothing more than a bandit leader in need of placating with yearly bribes, often annoying but—so far—not worth the concerted effort it would require to swat me. In order to change that situation, I must first establish normal relations with one of the coastal kingdoms. I have chosen Conmyre.”
Marta took a breath. I’ll say this for your, Boranac—you don’t believe in half measures.
As Marta considered, however, she began to winkle out Boranac’s reasoning. Conmyre had been a sea-going power for close to a thousand years and, while it was not so far away as to have never tangled with Boranac’s raiders, it was further east than, say, Borasur-Morushe and Lethys, and so less…inconvenienced, perhaps, than those domains closer to the sea lanes favored by Boranac. In addition, Conmyre had a great deal of influence among the maritime powers. If Boranac could establish diplomatic ties with Conmyre, it would only be a matter of time until others followed their lead.
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