Time's Children

by D. B. Jackson

  He recoiled. “I am not. I’ve never been asked to do anything against my will.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? How old were you when they took you from your home?”

  “Five,” he said, an admission.

  “Were your parents paid?”

  He lifted his shoulders, nodded. “I believe so.”

  “That’s twice you’ve been sold. And however you feel about going to Daerjen, I doubt you were so pleased with the first instance.”

  “I was fed, clothed, housed, educated, given a future. Most children who grow up in Redcove fare far worse.”

  “So you’re a slave, but a happy one.”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  The captain raised her eyebrows.

  “Please,” he added.

  “I would pay you better, feed you, take you to lands you’ve never seen, never even dreamed of. With me – aboard this ship – you’ll experience sights, tastes, pleasures…” she smiled in a way that made him blush again, though in an entirely different way, “…the like of which you can’t imagine. In return, you’d provide me with the means to reconsider negotiations that don’t go as I please, or to take advantage of opportunities that I regret passing by, or, perhaps, to avoid boardings and other encounters that prove… unprofitable. And when you aren’t Walking, you’ll make yourself a valued member of my crew. In short, I get a sailor and a Walker. We both gain.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’d be negating a contract.”

  She laughed, and not kindly, brushing strands of raven hair from her brow. Silver mixed with the black at her temples, but her skin remained smooth. Tobias wouldn’t have hazarded a guess at her age.

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” she said.

  He started to answer, shook his head. He knew he should say something, but no words came.

  “Silenced you, have I? Good. Come with me.”

  She gave him no time to agree or object, but merely strode back toward the quarterdeck and her cabin. Tobias hurried after her, only pausing at the threshold. One didn’t simply enter a captain’s quarters.

  “It’s all right,” she said, waving him inside. “Close the door.”

  She stepped behind the low desk beside her bed, opened a drawer, and pulled out what he thought was the parcel she had brought back from the port town.

  It was a bit larger than her hand, flat, wrapped in stained sacking that had been tied with twine.

  “What do you think this is?” she asked, holding it in her palm.

  “I… I have no idea.”

  She flipped it to him, and he caught it. “Open it.”

  Tobias hadn’t expected it to be so light. It felt almost fragile in his hands. He stared at it, glanced at her.

  “It won’t explode. You have my word.”

  He remained uncomfortable under her gaze, but did as told. The knot in the twine gave grudgingly, but once Tobias managed to untie it, the wrapping fell away with ease, dropping to the floor, and revealing a circlet of gold. An aperture. Tobias held it in both hands, as he would a hymnal, scrutinizing the curved, overlapping blades, the rounded outer edge, the sectioned arcs of the inner contour.

  “Is it real?” he asked, without thought.

  The captain didn’t answer. He tore his gaze from the circlet to find her glaring at him, dark eyes as hard as onyx.

  “One can find imitations of all Bound devices,” he said. “Worthless fakes. Surely you know of these.”

  “You have ventured into very dangerous waters,” she said, her voice silken. “Do I look like someone who would traffic in counterfeits and forgeries?”

  Tobias shook his head, fear rising in his chest. “No, captain, not at all.” He opened his hands. “I’m a Walker. My power is different from that of Crossers. I can’t tell you whether or not this is real.”

  She considered him, then threw back her head and laughed again. “That’s why you think I’ve shown you this?”

  Heat rose in his neck and face. She had a talent for disconcerting him. “It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption,” he said, knowing he sounded prideful and sullen.

  She reined in her mirth with visible effort. “No, I don’t suppose it was.” He sensed she was humoring him, which angered him that much more. “I know the aperture is real. I purchased it from the family of an old Crosser who recently died. It’s as real as you and I. And if we had a Crosser with us, he or she would be able to use it to pass through the walls of this cabin as easily as we can use the door. I’m showing it to you because I want you to understand that my offer of employment is real. I’m a merchant, and a successful one. I’ve been at sea for twenty-five years, and I’ve captained my own ship for nearly twenty. Over that time, I’ve come into possession of apertures, sextants, and even a few chronofors. Consent to work for me, and I won’t rest until I’ve found you a device. You have my word on that.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll consider the offer, that it’s generous and attractive, but you need a bit of time.”

  She grinned again. Tobias did, too.

  “Yes. That’s… All of those things.”

  “Very well. Belowdecks with you. The crew should be eating by now.”

  “Yes, captain.” Tobias handed her the aperture and made to leave.

  “Walker,” she said, stopping him before he could let himself out of the cramped quarters. “I would prefer that no one else know of this.” She held up the circlet.

  “I understand,” Tobias said, though he wasn’t sure he did.

  He left her, and joined the crew in the hold for the evening meal. But their conversation haunted him all the rest of that night, and throughout his slumber.

  Chapter 6

  10th Day of Kheraya’s Ascent, Year 647

  Two mornings after his exchange with the captain, they encountered another Oaqamaran marauder. This one took notice of the Skate, and changed course to intercept her. As the ship neared, Captain Larr called Tobias away from the bow, meeting him at the hatch.

  “I want you below, in shadows.”

  Tobias cast a leery glance at the warship. “Will they board us?”

  She eyed the vessel as well. “I’d be shocked if they didn’t. Ships of the autarchy make it a practice to confiscate goods, calling it tribute. Like it or not, you’re a good, and a valuable one at that. And I’d imagine you have documents with you that indicate you’re bound for Hayncalde.”

  He nodded, remembering Chancellor Shaan’s letter of introduction.

  “I feared as much. You might as well be wearing a Daerjeni naval uniform. If they don’t kill you, they’ll take you. Now go below, and hide. Do you have a weapon?”

  His heart pounded, and he could barely summon enough spit to speak. “Yes.”

  “Keep it with you.”

  He ran down the stairs and retrieved from his pallet the letter from the chancellor. He also grabbed the pistol, powder, paper, and ammunition Saffern had given him before picking his way to the darkest, most remote corner of the hold. Crouching there behind barrels and crates, he covered himself with old sailcloth, and loaded his pistol blind, something the weapons master had insisted all novitiates learn to do.

  Sooner than he expected, something scraped along the side of the ship. Above him, men shouted and heavy footsteps thudded on deck. Something scuttled near him in the darkness and stuffy heat. A rat? Tobias clutched his weapon in sweating hands and willed himself to remain still. Judging from what he heard above, many men had boarded the Skate. They were on the deck, then on the stairs, and finally in the hold with him. Torchlight glimmered through the weave of the cloth.

  Tobias’s breath sounded loud to his own ears. As the torches loomed closer he was certain the Oaqamarans would find him. He raised his weapon, braced his shooting hand on his knee. He’d die before he allowed them to capture him, and he was determined not to die alone.

  They remained in the hold, shifting barrels and crates, laughing and speaking in
their language. Their words came too quickly, and Tobias’s breathing was too loud for him to make out what they said.

  After what seemed an eternity, the torch flame retreated and then disappeared altogether, plunging him into shadow again. Not long after that, the noise above abated. Another scrape along the hull, and Tobias assumed the danger had passed, though he remained hidden until Captain Larr descended the stairs and called to him.

  He emerged from his hiding place soaked in sweat, but otherwise none the worse for wear. He learned from one of the sailors that the Oaqamarans took three barrels of ale, and most of their remaining meat. Later that day, they made an unplanned stop at a small isle to replenish their stores. The sailor and her mates agreed their losses could have been far worse.

  A few days later they entered the Outer Ring through the passage between Aiyanth and Ensydar. Warships patrolled these waters: sea eagles flying the red and white of Daerjen, and the similar Aiyanthan frigates, flying blue and gold. They were large vessels, three-masted and armed with forty guns. They cut an impressive line in the coastal waters and were nearly as numerous as merchant ships. Smaller warships bore other colors: green and silver for Herjes, black and purple for Rencyr, and yellow and red, which Tobias could not place. His diplomacy master in Windhome would have been displeased.

  More open seas might have attracted privateers or Oaqamaran marauders, despite the presence of the Daerjeni and Aiyanthan vessels, but these waters were safe, at least for now.

  “It’s a lot more dangerous up near Oaqamar and the Bones,” Evan told him, as he mopped the deck again. “We fly Aiyanthan colors, so we’re all right here. Near those others, the captain strikes the banners before we get anywhere close. She has another set – from one of the isles in the Knot, I think – that she flies when we’re in the northwest.”

  “Why not fly those all the time?”

  “Because sometimes being from the Axle is good for business.” Evan said this with pride, leading Tobias to guess that he hailed from Aiyanth.

  As they tacked along Aiyanth’s southeast coast, Tobias’s excitement mounted. The threat of another Belvora attack had lessened. Magick demons were found almost exclusively in the northern isles, from which Seers and Travelers hailed. He had less to fear and more to anticipate.

  The captain joined him at his customary position by the rail.

  “You seem impatient,” she said.

  “Excited mostly. But yes, I’m eager to reach Hayncalde.”

  “I take it then you’ve decided to refuse my offer of employment. Or had you forgotten our conversation?”

  He hadn’t. Far from it. He had dreaded this return to the subject. He admired the captain and her crew, and had enjoyed their voyage. But he had trained all his life to serve a court. He was loath to give up what he had long considered his destiny. Or maybe that was merely an excuse.

  So you’re a slave, but a happy one. Captain Larr’s words had haunted him since their last exchange, goading, even offensive, but as blunt as anything anyone had ever said to him.

  Was that the source of his ambivalence? He had spent his life meeting the expectations of others, going where his parents sent him, where the chancellor sent him, excelling in his studies and in his training. For as long as he could remember, he had been dutiful and compliant. He had been rewarded for this; meeting those expectations – exceeding them – had brought him attention, praise, both of which he coveted.

  “Perhaps you thought I had forgotten,” Captain Larr said, filling a lengthening silence.

  Tobias forced a smile, his thoughts still churning.

  Refusing the captain’s offer felt like another capitulation to what was expected of him. He was clever enough to wonder if this had been her aim when she compared him to a slave.

  He wondered as well if his training had been too complete. For taking this alternative path still seemed unthinkable. Negate the contract? Turn his back on nine years of instruction? Deny the sovereign his service so that he might journey the seas with the crew of the Skate? It seemed the height of folly, of irresponsibility.

  It was also deeply attractive.

  His thoughts had followed this circular path for days as he careened from impulse to impulse. I can’t accept her offer. I want to accept her offer. I can’t accept her offer…

  He wanted adventure. Even as he sweated and trembled beneath that old sailcloth, wondering if he might have to kill the Oaqamaran sailors searching the hold, he also thrilled to be in such circumstance. Life on the Skate might be filled with moments like that one.

  On the other hand, for years now he had anticipated going to one of Islevale’s great courts and living each day at the center of world-shaping events. Could he abandon that dream for life on the sea? Would the captain feel bound by the limitations on Walking set out in the contracts agreed to by sovereigns? More to the point, he had grown up hating and fearing the Oaqamarans. Giving up his posting in Daerjen to stay on this ship would feel like he was fleeing the autarchy. That was what he would do as the ship’s Walker. He would hide in the hold, or hope that the captain avoided marauders entirely. For all he knew, the sovereign needed him to play some role in Daerjen’s war against Oaqamar. How could he refuse this summons to Hayncalde?

  This thought, as much as anything, finally gave him the courage to speak.

  “I’m sorry, captain. The life of a court Traveler is what I’ve been preparing for since I was five years old. It’s the path my parents envisioned for me when they gave me over to the palace. Your offer is tempting, truly it is. But…” He broke off, shaking his head, fearful of saying something insulting.

  “I take no offense, Walker. Indeed, I believe I understand.”

  “Someday maybe–”

  “Someday,” she repeated. “I don’t wish to wait so long. Well before you grow bored with your sovereign, I hope to find another Walker who better appreciates the opportunity I’m offering.” She smiled to soften the words, then started away from him, back toward her cabin, her boots clicking on the wooden deck. “We should enter the Inward Sea tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll have you in Hayncalde in a few more days.”

  He walked after her. “What would you have done had I said yes?” he asked, his voice low.

  She halted, scrutinized him once more. “Was there ever a chance of that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m curious about what might have happened.”

  Her shrug was eloquent. “Obviously, we wouldn’t go to Daerjen. I’d take us west, make it seem that we came through the Aiyanthan Sea. From there, I’d send word of a privateer assault. A tragedy. So many hands lost, including the young man entrusted to us by the chancellor. I would, of course, make restitution the next time I land in Windhome. I don’t keep money that isn’t mine. And I would beg that the chancellor extend my deepest condolences to the lad’s parents.”

  “Lies, layered one on top of the other.”

  “A tale. You could take on a new name, a new appearance.”

  “And your commerce with the palace? You’d never again be able to transport Travelers from Trevynisle to the courts.”

  “I’m not convinced of that, but even if it were so, those are profits I can make up elsewhere, especially with a Walker by my side.” She raised an eyebrow. “There’s still time. Not much, mind you. It would be more complicated once we reach the Inward Sea. But it’s not yet too late.”

  “I think it is,” Tobias said, surprised by the pang of regret that accompanied the words. “I’m sorry.”

  The captain laughed, dismissing his apology with a flutter of her fingers. She had a talent for making him feel belittled, as if she was always aware of his youth.

  “You needn’t apologize,” she said. “I’ve survived very well without a Walker on my ship, and I’ll continue to do so. Yes, there would have been gain – for both of us – but I’m in no danger of going hungry, and I’m sure you’ll do just fine with your sovereign.”

  He nodded, stung by her tone mo
re than her words.

  “You still seem unsure. Are you certain you know your own mind?”

  Stubbornness more than surety made him say, “Yes, quite certain.”

  “Very well,” she said with another shrug. “I’ll send a bird today informing the sovereign of our impending arrival.” She turned and left.

  Tobias watched her go, feeling he had allowed something precious to slip through his grasp, and wondering at himself that he should regret turning down an offer he would never have considered a turn before.

  Still, he knew he had made the right choice, the only choice, really. For better or worse, he would go to Daerjen, and serve as he had long intended. If this meant less adventure in his life, so be it.

  The following day, the Skate stopped in Codport on the north coast of Qyrshen. After that she cut eastward into the Inward Sea. A day later, they rounded the wooded north promontory of Daerjen itself.

  Here, warships gathered in clusters of three and four. At least twenty patrolled near the mouth of the Gulf of Daerjen, all of them flying Daerjeni colors.

  Captain Larr steered them among the ships and into the gulf. Tobias felt safer with the sovereign’s navy nearby, but he sensed that the captain and her crew disliked being so close to any warships. Forests on the Daerjeni Promontory gave way to open moors, and then to the lofty, jagged peaks of the Saltwind Range, which loomed over the inlet, dwarfing its gray cliffs and rugged coast.

  The Skate bypassed the wharves of Sheraigh on the south shore and sailed into the heart of the isle, passing other merchant vessels, a few as large as she, most smaller, more agile, better suited to the narrow straits of the Inner Ring.

  With every landmark Tobias identified – the Thirogan Mountains to the south, the uplands of the Hayncalde Narrow ahead of them, the hills of the Faendor Highlands at the southernmost end of the gulf – his excitement grew. If he could see the highlands, albeit from a distance, surely Hayncalde couldn’t be far.

  The captain had to navigate with more care in the gulf, however, and before long she ordered the sails furled and the sailors onto sweeps. When night fell and Larr instructed her crew to drop anchor until morning, Tobias nearly groaned aloud.