“Damn.” Kettle let his imagination play out the scene. He could see himself and the crew walking into a crescent-shaped jungle valley when all of a sudden the Black Star’s Lavic crew popped up on either side with rifles ready. “What do you think I should do?”
She snorted. It was very undignified. “Merrick Kettle, I think I’ve told you enough. It’s time for you to go.”
“Umm, not to sound overly selfish, but how do I get out of here without getting a hand cut off?”
She gave him a hard look, and he wasn’t immediately sure what it meant. He considered his options. He might have to make a bolt for the exit of the building and try to get to the Epoch before any of the Banana’s enforcers could lay their hands on him. He wondered how eager Saeliko would be to protect him from harm.
“Go downstairs to the bar. Ask for a woman named Tosheen. When you find her, tell her that I had an accident. She’ll ask you for details. Tell her a bruised cheek and a bleeding lip. She’ll make you pay a fine.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. One other thing though.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t ever come here again.”
3.4 SAELIKO
Saeliko watched the Smollic Dar head out through the entrance to the cove. She could just make out the Lavic crew scurrying across her decks carrying out the final preparations to make ready for open water. Reports from the docks claimed that Harker Mikka was taking the Black Star around the eastern side of the Lokkorsa Isles looking for Kalleshi trading sloops coming out of Ma. Might be true, but Saeliko wasn’t one to put her trust in rumors from fish mongers and shipless sailors in port.
When the frigate rounded the corner out of sight after passing the watch towers, the Saffisheen turned her attention back to Myffa’s Cove. She looked up at the fort where she had met with the Red Council. Anger flared up from within, but she pushed it back down. Now was not the time.
Saeliko and the crew of the Epoch were now officially recognized by the Council. Any crewmember could expect aid and sanctuary in times of need. Yet the price had been a lot steeper than Saeliko had expected. She had come to Myffa’s Cove imagining that she would have to give up a sizable portion of the Triumph’s cargo. Instead, after a very long, arduous afternoon of haggling and listening to sanctimonious lectures, Saeliko had been forced to give them the entire ship.
The whole fiasco was obscene. The twelve women on the Red Council should have been on their knees thanking her for joining their little cabal. She was Saffisheen. That alone should have reduced the price.
She forced herself to shake those thoughts out of her head. The deal had been struck. Now it was time to set her sights on more constructive matters.
The first two orders of business were nearly complete; her new crew was almost assembled and the repairs to the Epoch were all but finished. In the end, the loss of the Triumph made bolstering her ranks easier than anticipated. She only needed women for one ship, not two. And really, that had been the whole point in coming to Myffa’s Cove; the little town was a beacon for hardened women who wouldn’t shy away from a fight.
“Beggin’ your pardon,” Brenna said. The qarlden had ascended from the lower deck and found Saeliko on the quarterdeck.
“Aye,” she answered, but her green eyes remained locked on the town.
“That’s the last of it. Water barrels are full. Food supplies are topped off. Ammunition racks are full. Looks like we’ll be ready to sail in the morning.”
“How many new recruits do we have?”
“We took on near four dozen women, plus four men. We’re up near a hundred and thirty last I checked.”
“Anyone to replace Lakkari?” Little pot-bellied Lakkari had – after two cruel days of agony – succumbed to the injuries sustained in the battle for the Triumph. That had been a tough blow for the Epoch; Lakkari had been well-liked, but she had also been the last crewmember sufficiently qualified to be the ship’s master rigger. In fact, the last few weeks had proved costly, personnel-wise. Sammaraeli (the previous master rigger) and Cassami had been killed by Janx back on Butterfly Island, and they had lost a number of other long-time companions on the Triumph, including the two fattest – Mohdheri and Fat Rat.
“There are a few candidates.”
“We’ll vote on it when we get underway. It’s a shame we don’t have anyone from the original crew. Doesn’t seem right to appoint a newcomer to a high rank.”
“There’s Amba. She was close to Sammaraeli. She might have learned enough to be able to handle the job.”
This gave Saeliko pause for thought. Amba was becoming something of a communal joke on the Epoch. The Kalleshi sailor had had more than her fair share of close calls, but she apparently couldn’t be killed. On the Triumph, a stray bullet had run clean through the top of her left arm. The wound had left her a little low on blood, but otherwise she was no worse for wear. How the bullet had missed bone, no one was quite sure. Lucky girl.
“Maybe,” Saeliko said non-committedly.
“Oh, and one other thing. Ollan told me to tell you that you’ll be wanting to have lunch at the Broken Hull today. I told him you were plenty busy, but that Lavic turtle shite-for-brains insisted that I tell you.”
Saeliko perked up at this, not because of Brenna’s insult – Brenna’s insults were rarely insults – but because she had been waiting for just such news. “How long ago did you talk to him?”
“Not more than an hour ago.”
“Very good.”
Saeliko started toward the rail and gestured to Jren and Amba to get a dinghy ready to take her to shore. “Hey Brenna,” she called back as she waited. When the qarlden looked her way, Saeliko gave one last order. “See if you can dig up four spare flintlocks. I want you to start training Haley and the other three how to shoot properly once we get underway tomorrow. They survived the last battle with naught but stolen blades and a bit of luck. I think we owe them a bit of help for the next one.”
The dinghy ride to the docks was a quick one. The cove was deep enough to allow the Epoch to drop anchor fairly close to the outermost docks where the smaller sloops were tied up. Once she entered the town, she received the usual looks. In a town that regularly saw hardy, capable women of all types – sell-swords, smugglers, vagabonds, adventurers and the like – from nearly every empire, kingdom and dominion, Saeliko was still a novelty.
It was nearing midday by the time she exited the rear of the town and started the ascent along the trail to the Broken Hull. She shortened her stride to accommodate the steepening slope, though she didn’t slow. The exertion felt good, and she took joy in the simple pleasure of having sweat on the brow and a light burn in the calves. By the time she reached the top of the bluff, the bitter taste of the deal she had made with the Red Council had all but dissipated in her mouth.
She spotted Ollan – the big man was hard to miss – sitting by himself at an outside table at the Broken Hull. He had an ale in front of him, but as usual, it was mostly full. For a sailor, he drank remarkably little. He was also chewing on a hunk of crusty rye bread, and there was a bowl of soup in front of him. When he saw her approach, he used his boot to push out another chair for her to sit in. She ignored the stares from the Broken Hull’s other patrons and walked straight to him. When she reached the chair, she spun it around and straddled it so that her scimitar wouldn’t be hindered. She rested one of her arms on the chair’s top brace and used her free hand to grab his ale and take a healthy swig.
“Lovely day for a walk,” Ollan said and smiled.
“Where is she?”
“Straight to the point, I see.”
Saeliko didn’t respond. Rather, she took a second healthy pull from his mug and let some of the amber liquid dribble down her chin. She then looked at him and waited for him to get on with it.
“As it happens, she likes walking, too. She’s gone up the trail over the ridge.” He pointed to an obvious trailhead off to the back and right of the Broken Hu
ll. “There’s a lake up on the plateau there. Scenic view apparently.”
“She’s alone?”
Ollan nodded. “Guess she wants some personal time before we lift anchor tomorrow. That’s what she told Shen before she left.”
“When did she leave?”
“Couple hours ago.”
“Enjoy your lunch, Ollan.” Without another word she got up and left the Broken Hull.
The trail up to the ridgeline of the crater undulated between steep and gentle. She could tell it was used infrequently. Aside from the fact that no one was on it, there were numerous sections where the low scuttlebrush and patches of stink grass threatened to cover the path. There was no cloud cover; the sun belted down on her head and shoulders. She was damp with sweat and decided that once her business was completed, she might just take a swim in the lake before coming back to town.
The trail came up and over the saddle between two dull peaks. At its summit, the view was sensational. Looking back, she could see all of Myffa’s Cove and the surrounding features. Seagulls circled over the water, playing on the currents in the air. She could even see the choppy water outside of the cove’s entrance shimmering in the sunlight.
The other direction showed a lightly wooded plateau that extended off the ridgeline for a considerable distance. Steep cliffs ran down the sides of the plateau to the sea below, and out in the distance, she could just barely make out the rugged formations of nearby islands. Now that she saw it from above, she realized that the island was significantly larger than she had originally thought. Atop the plateau, sitting amidst groves of manglewood trees, a picturesque lake beckoned. The trail wound its way through trees and around some scree.
Then Saeliko saw her target. There in the distance, just heading back from the lake, the Epoch’s shipwarden walked by herself toward the ridgeline. Deshi had been a thorn in Saeliko’s side ever since she had called the palaver to convince the crew to turn on Janx. Saeliko was also certain that Deshi had voted against her when choosing the new harker of the Epoch. Dissent was something that could not exist on a well-functioning ship. On a ship at sea, dissent worked like an infected abscess. It could either be cut out while it was still small, or it would threaten the life of the host.
Voting on the epoch served a very important purpose. It gave the crew the sense that their working environment was based on egalitarian values. From their perspective, the Epoch was an island of equality in a world of tyrants. They would fight for this island. They would die for it if necessary. Saeliko, however, knew the truth. While there were some decisions that had no real effect on her ability to command the vessel, there were other decisions that were crucial to her hold over the crew. Part of her job as harker was to control the outcome of these decisions before any voting took place.
Deshi was an abscess. She was particularly dangerous now because Saeliko had just taken on forty-odd new sailors with questionable loyalty. If things went well in the weeks and months ahead, the Epoch’s crew would follow the Saffisheen’s lead without question. If they ran into some hard luck, Deshi might spark an unwanted rebellion.
Saeliko descended down the trail to meet Deshi. The lake was probably about an hour away, but the time was cut in half with the two women walking toward each other. When Deshi looked up and saw Saeliko, there was obvious surprise in her expression. This made Saeliko smile.
“Hi, Desh,” she said, using the woman’s abbreviated nickname.
“Harker Saeliko.”
“It’s time we had a talk.”
To her credit, Deshi recovered her usual steely composure quickly. The older woman crossed her arms in front of her and put on a dour face, as she usually did when talking to Saeliko. Her long braids were swept back over her shoulders. “Why are you here?”
“To help you.”
“I find that very difficult to believe.”
“Deshi, I’m going to give you a future.” Saeliko took a step closer.
“How?”
“I’m going to let you retire.”
“Retire?”
“Retire. Deshi, you’ve had a good run. A great run. Now I’m going to let you take your share of the remaining loot from the Triumph and let you retire gracefully. You can live here if you want. Or go back to Mael. Actually, I don’t care what you do from here on in, but you’ll never set foot on the Epoch again.”
“The Epoch is my home. I’m not leaving it.”
“Be careful, Deshi. I might change my mind about letting you live.”
“What if I refuse to retire? What if I show up on the Epoch tomorrow?”
“You’re not going to be in any condition to show up on the Epoch tomorrow morning.”
Deshi visibly tensed up. Saeliko could practically see the woman’s mind racing, trying to come up with options to get out of this situation. Saeliko pulled out her scimitar.
“Don’t do this,” Deshi said.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Saeliko began. “I can’t have you walking around making trouble for the next little while, so I’m going to break one of your legs.” This made the color run out of Deshi’s face. Saeliko waited and watched her opponent’s eyes. The Saffisheen enjoyed moments like these, the moments when real fear set in. When people lost the ability to suppress their own fear, they no longer thought clearly. They became weak.
Deshi panicked and her hand lunged for the pistol at her belt. Saeliko surged forward and lashed out a controlled blow with the back edge of her scimitar. The blunt side of the blade made contact with Deshi’s wrist. The shipwarden cried out in pain and dropped the pistol to the ground, but Saeliko didn’t stop there. Her left hand – the hand not holding the scimitar – came around in a wide arc and punched Deshi square in the side of her face. The blow dropped the woman to her knees. Saeliko then used a powerful kick to the chest to knock the already dazed Deshi flat onto her back. She looked down at the sailor, who for her part was doing little more than groaning and holding her wrist.
“This is for the best.” The Saffisheen pointed at her with the tip of her scimitar. “You’re old and slow. You’re past your prime.”
“Don’t break my leg,” Deshi said.
“No choice. Can’t risk you strolling up to the docks tomorrow morning. It’s either this or I kill you.”
“No, wait. You don’t have to do either. I promise I won’t be any more trouble. I give you my word. Leave me here and I’ll stay away until after the Epoch lifts anchor.”
“Sorry, Desh.”
“You owe me this much! I’ve been loyal to the Epoch since you were a child.”
Saeliko considered this and then said, “I’ll tell you what. You can choose which leg you want me to break, and I’ll even give you a stick to bite on so you don’t chew your tongue off.”
Deshi yelled out in frustration. “Argh! You miserable little shit!”
“All right, let’s get this started.” Saeliko looked down at the shipwarden’s left leg. “Do you want me to break it above the knee or below? Probably below, right?”
“Hold on! Wait, wait, wait!” Deshi held both hands out in front of her as if to simultaneously plead with Saeliko and ward off the oncoming assault. “I can help you. I know things.” Saeliko paused and Deshi started speaking more slowly. “Look, I heard something yesterday that might be important to you. Come on. We’re both women of the Epoch. We might not agree on certain things, but let’s not end it like this. Not like this. Let me tell you what I know, and then you can just leave me be. I’ll disappear. I can probably find work on another boat. We’ll go our separate ways with no bad blood between us. I swear.”
“I’m listening.”
“Really? You’ll let me go if I tell you?”
“I said I’m listening. What I do after that depends on what you tell me.”
“Okay, okay. Good. That’s good.” She used her elbows to hoist herself up into a sitting position. Saeliko allowed her to do it, though the scimitar remained in hand at the ready. She seemed unsure o
f herself, which might have been a tip off that she was about to weave together a tale of lies. Saeliko doubted it though. Deshi wasn’t one to make things up. She wasn’t good at it.
“Quickly now.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I was at the Queen’s Hammer last night.” Saeliko recognized the name; it was one of the ale houses in the heart of town. “I ran into Brijola Mrusich, and we shared a pint together.”
“Who?” It was a Lavic name, but other than that, she couldn’t place it.
“Brijola is the shipwarden on the Smollic Dar. She was my apprentice on the Epoch, but that was before your time. Anyway, Brijola told me that the Dar was about ready to depart, but she wouldn’t tell me where. At least not at first. Two bottles of rum in, and she started opening up, and she started telling me to be careful.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what I thought, but then she told me that the Dar was headed to the same place we are, which bloody well took me by surprise. How in the Five could she know where I was headed when I didn’t even know?”
“Go on.” Saeliko was interested now. She was also slightly unsettled.
“Well, she goes on and says that someone onboard the Epoch has been talking to Harker Mikka on the Dar. Brijola wouldn’t tell me what the prize was. I guess she didn’t know. But Mikka knows. Must be something big, because she gets the crew to double up their preparations to leave. She wanted to get out of Myffa’s Cove before you did. Saeliko, whatever it is you’re after, Mikka’ll try to beat you to it. And if she doesn’t beat you to it, she’ll be fighting you for it.”
Saeliko’s training kicked in; she maintained her calm, controlled demeanor. Inside, however, she wanted to jump up and down and kick something in frustration. There were only five people aboard the Epoch who could possibly know where they were headed. One of them was Ollan. Ollan wouldn’t be so incredibly stupid. The other four – Dallas, Soup, Haley and Kettle – were a different matter altogether. She should have kept them locked up in the brig.
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