The Thousand Deaths of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  Lyndel was the only person Quarrah could lean on, but the priestess hadn’t been around since delivering Ard on the night of his injuries. Enraged by the king’s sudden announcement against the Trothians, Lyndel’s followers had responded to the assault on the palace with frightful enthusiasm. Her people were in hiding now, and Lyndel was working to procure better weapons and supplies so they’d be prepared for another attack.

  Another attack? Quarrah knew Lyndel was furious over the death of Isle Halavend, but how far was she going to take this?

  Sparks! They had done this! Did Quarrah have a hand in this anarchy that was spreading like mold on a rotten apple? What had begun as a well-paying ruse was turning out to be something far more than any of them had signed on for.

  Quarrah believed Halavend’s research. And with that belief came a responsibility to act. But what more could she do? Ard seemed to be brewing a plan, but Quarrah hardly had the experience and know-how to extract an unfertilized dragon egg from Pekal. She was alone with an impossible task. Which was what had brought her to this harbor for the only help she could think of.

  Tanalin Phor.

  Quarrah had decided not to tell Ard of her plans. He was still weak, and there was no way he would agree to involve Tanalin. But the Harvester captain had the resources and the experience to get what Ard needed.

  Quarrah strode onto the long dock. The rainy day made for a quiet harbor. The workers kept their heads down, so Quarrah didn’t draw any unwanted attention. Quarrah assumed Tanalin would be on board the Crown’s Ashing, which was scheduled to leave for a Harvesting trip to Pekal within the hour.

  Quarrah hoped what she planned to say would be enough to convince Tanalin. Words were Ard’s thing. And while Tanalin had made it quite clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing another word from him, Quarrah hoped she might be received with a more open mind.

  The Crown’s Ashing was the king’s primary Harvesting ship. It was built for speed with plenty of storage, and well armored in the unlikely event of a pirate strike in the InterIsland Waters.

  Quarrah brushed her fingertips across the Singler under her jacket as she moved up the ramp to the ship. If it came to blows, the weapon would be seriously insufficient. Quarrah was risking a lot coming here, where a single word from Tanalin could lead to her immediate arrest. Or worse. But Quarrah desperately needed help. She needed direction.

  Once, Quarrah had been entirely independent. She prided herself on having accomplished so many solo thefts. Planning, plotting, scouting, thieving … Quarrah had done it all. Now that she was alone again, she felt paralyzed. Desperate for someone to turn to.

  Quarrah reached the top of the ramp, only to be stopped by a callused hand. A stout sailor, nearly as broad as he was tall, barred access to the ship’s deck.

  “Don’t know your face,” he said, rain pattering off his hood. Quarrah was quite grateful for that. Some of Tanalin’s crew might recognize her from her time as their prisoner. “Let’s see those papers.”

  “I’m here to see Captain Tanalin Phor,” Quarrah answered, skirting the fact that she didn’t have the necessary papers for admittance.

  “Captain’s busy,” said the man. “Due to set sail in half an hour.”

  “It’s an urgent matter,” Quarrah pressed. “I need help.”

  “We all need help,” he answered.

  “The captain knows me,” she insisted. “If you’d just give her my name. Or ask her to peer out of her cabin to see my face.”

  “It is a face worth seeing,” the man said. “Now get yourself back down that ramp, or I’ll have the pleasure of handling you myself.”

  Quarrah scowled. If she couldn’t talk her way past this salty sailor, what hope did she have in convincing Tanalin to help her? Ard would have talked his way on board in half as many sentences, but words never got her anywhere.

  Impulsively, Quarrah reached into her jacket, drew the Singler, and fired it directly into the air. So much for that shot. Oh, well. Not like one ball would have made a difference if things went that way.

  The squat sailor stumbled backward in shock, composing himself as he drew a Singler of his own. All motion on the Crown’s Ashing had ceased, half a dozen guns trained on her. On the docks behind, Quarrah saw the harbor Regulators rushing in her direction. She would certainly be at Tanalin’s mercy now, assuming that the Harvesting captain showed herself before the Reggies hauled her away.

  “Quarrah Khai.” Tanalin moved into view around the ship’s mast, wide-brimmed hat sheltering her face from the rain. “You must have some death wish, coming here and taking shots like that.”

  Tanalin strode forward, her gate unimpressed, with a long-barreled Singler over one shoulder. She was a small woman, but looking tough as any sailor, with that tanned skin and jet-black hair. “What are you doing on the deck of my ship?”

  “I tried to hold her back,” said the callused sailor. “She drew a gun on me …”

  “I need your help, Tanalin,” Quarrah blurted.

  “Someone put you up to this.” Tanalin wouldn’t say Ardor’s name. As far as the crew knew, their captain had shot Ardor Benn dead in that tent on Pekal.

  “He doesn’t know I’m here,” Quarrah said. “He’s hurt. I had no one else I could turn to for help.”

  “Raekon finally grew tired of the manipulation?” Tanalin asked. “Big fool’s been a blind follower for so many years—”

  “Raek’s dead.” Quarrah spat the words out and saw them take immediate effect on Tanalin. The other woman froze, her mouth opening slightly, but not a word coming out.

  A pair of harbor Regulators reached the bottom of the ramp, Rollers drawn and aimed at Quarrah’s back as they issued commands for her to move slowly off the ship.

  Tanalin was still for one more moment. Then she stepped up to the ship’s rail and called down to the Reggies. “It’s all right. Just a misfire. No trouble here.”

  Quarrah glanced over her shoulder, the Regulators holstering their Rollers and moving away from the ramp.

  “Thank you.” Quarrah tucked the spent Singler back into her jacket.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Tanalin replied, turning from the rail. “Come with me.”

  She led Quarrah across the deck of the Crown’s Ashing and gestured for her to enter the captain’s cabin set into the ship’s raised stern.

  Once inside, Tanalin shut the door, significantly reducing the amount of daylight that spilled into the room. Tanalin stepped past Quarrah and seated herself on a short bench against the wall.

  “How did he die?” Tanalin resumed their conversation as though it had never been interrupted.

  “Pethredote killed him,” answered Quarrah, brushing her plastered wet hair from her forehead. “Raek and Ard were attempting to get information out of the king and something went wrong.”

  Tanalin swallowed. “Of course they were,” she muttered. “What information?”

  Quarrah shrugged. “Don’t know. Ard was injured in the escape. He hasn’t been well enough to say much.”

  “Ard? Not saying much? Well, that’s highly unusual.” Tanalin leaned back against the wall and studied Quarrah. “How’d you get away?” she asked. “On Pekal. Ard arranged for me to deliver you a lock-picking tool. You were gone by the time I came by.”

  “I can take care of myself,” said Quarrah. “Have been for a long time.”

  “Why are you here?” asked Tanalin.

  Quarrah didn’t know if she should feel encouraged by the fact that Tanalin had brought the matter up. “I’m looking for an unfertilized dragon egg.”

  Tanalin squinted her eyes. “There’s one in the Mooring. Anyone’s welcome to take a look at it.”

  Quarrah had already considered the Mooring’s gelatinous egg. She was sure she could steal it. Trouble was, the egg displayed in the glass case was milky white—indicating that the hatchling would be female if the egg were ever fertilized. Ard had been specific in his request.

  “It has to be a bull eg
g,” Quarrah explained. “That’s what he said.”

  “Oh?” Tanalin raised her eyebrows. “Now that Raek is gone, Ard has you running his errands?”

  This flustered Quarrah, and she hoped it didn’t show. In many ways, she was blindly following Ard’s request. But she had seen a look of sincerity in his eyes when he first awakened to make his desperate plea. And Ard had repeated his request in the days following. In fact, it was nearly all he had said, spending every ounce of energy to verify that she was trying to do something about it. Surely, he was planning something important.

  “Why does Ard think he needs a gelatinous egg?” Tanalin continued.

  “I don’t know,” Quarrah admitted. It had to have something to do with the information he learned from King Pethredote. “He must have discovered a way to hatch a bull dragon.” It was the most she could hope for.

  Tanalin rolled her eyes. “Only Ard would think himself above the laws of nature. Without the Bull Dragon Patriarchy, there’s no way to fertilize another egg.”

  “Ard must have found a way,” Quarrah insisted. She didn’t know his game, but Quarrah trusted Ard, which was something Tanalin would never understand.

  Quarrah had always known the type of person Ardor Benn was, and she had approached him as she would a venomous snake. Poor Tanalin had never suspected Ard’s trickery until it was too late.

  “Even if Ard could do this,” said Tanalin, “why bother to bring back the dragons? There are sufficient stores of Grit, so it’s not like he’ll ever know a life without it. With the extinction of the dragons, the value of Grit would increase. In his line of work, Ard stands to gain from it.”

  “He’s doing it for—”

  “Don’t tell me he’s doing it for posterity,” Tanalin cut in. “Ard is inherently selfish. I understand that better now than ever before. He doesn’t care about the future. That man is only concerned with what he can gain today.”

  Quarrah took a deep breath. It was time to hit Tanalin Phor with a good dose of the truth. Hopefully the woman would believe her and respond sensibly.

  “Have you heard about that case of Moonsickness on southern Espar?” Quarrah asked.

  Tanalin seemed taken aback. “News has a way of warping as it travels. Can’t trust everything you hear.”

  “Moonsickness is spreading to the Greater Chain, and that village is just the beginning.” Quarrah took an urgent step forward. “We’ve learned things, Tanalin. Things about the dragons. They protect us from the Moonsickness.” When Tanalin didn’t say anything, Quarrah pressed on.

  “The dragons absorb energy rays from the Moon Passing. For centuries, they have shielded us from certain death. A death that is now beginning to spread as the number of dragons on Pekal dwindles. Ardor has a plan. I don’t know what it is, but it may be our final shred of hope to save the islands.”

  Quarrah finished her monologue, surprised at the fluidity of her speech. Her chest was heaving from the passion behind her words, and Quarrah felt rather proud of the way she had presented things. Perhaps a tiny bit of Ard’s eloquence had rubbed off on her after all.

  Tanalin stood up slowly, lacing her fingers together. “That’s a blazing big story,” she said, voice soft. “And I have to say, it reeks of Ardor Benn.”

  “What do you mean?” Quarrah felt her confidence begin to slip away.

  “The story is so complex it’s almost impossible to grasp. The stakes are high and full of emotion. The call to arms is dramatic and enticing.” Tanalin shook her head. “Sparks, Quarrah. How can you believe anything that man says?”

  Quarrah suddenly realized that coming here was a mistake. Tanalin was blinded by an overwhelming betrayal. She wasn’t going to help them, because she refused to see facts. As far as Ard was concerned, Tanalin Phor could see only deceit and manipulation. He wasn’t the man she’d once known.

  But Ard wasn’t the man Quarrah had once known, either. The Ardor Benn that had auditioned her skills against a supposed Lemnow painting wouldn’t do anything unless the right sum of Ashings was backing it up. But the Ardor Benn lying injured in the abandoned butcher shop hadn’t shirked away when he discovered that Halavend was dead, and their funds dried up. He was a man attuned to the Urgings of the Homeland, willing to finish this job for the payout of saving numberless innocent souls.

  “It’s all true,” Quarrah said, though she could now see that Tanalin wasn’t going to believe any of it. “You can take me to Pekal so I can fetch an unfertilized egg. Or you can stand by and watch Moonsickness spread until it infects every man, woman, and child.”

  Tanalin stared at her. “It’s going to take a lot more than altruistic rhetoric to convince me.”

  Quarrah took a deep breath, preparing to shift tactics. If the logic and reason of truth didn’t move Tanalin to help, perhaps something more brusque would do it. “My people have ten panweights of Blast Grit rigged into an explosive keg with instructions to detonate on the Crown’s Ashing unless I sail out of here with you.”

  The lie was something Quarrah had concocted on the carriage ride to the docks. She had no idea what effect it would have on Tanalin, but it was a tactic worth investigating.

  “It’s unwise to threaten me,” Tanalin said. “Especially when your threats are empty lies.”

  “That’s a risk you’re willing to take, then?” Quarrah asked. “Willing to blow up your crew and half this harbor just to show that you’re not afraid of my words?”

  “Absolutely,” Tanalin said. “I’ve done some research on you since our last encounter. It’s important for both of us to know what we are and what we aren’t. You’re a thief, Quarrah. Not a killer. If I’m to believe that you would stand by and watch my crew of thirty people blown to chunks, along with Homeland knows how many casualties on the docks, then that would make me a fool. Which I am not.”

  Quarrah felt her face turning red. Ard would have sold that threat differently. Whatever he would have said would have caused Tanalin to feel doubt, at the very least. “You have to understand—”

  “I see what you’re trying to do,” Tanalin said. “And I will not be manipulated. As captain of the king’s Harvesting crew, I have responsibilities to the crown and the Greater Chain. Not to thieves and ruse artists. You will leave this ship at once, unless you’d like me to shout for those Regulators to return.”

  Both tactics had failed, making Quarrah’s appeal to Tanalin an utter waste of time. The two women ducked out of the small cabin and into the dreary daylight, crossing the wet deck in silence.

  “You can tell him that I saw the girl safely home,” Tanalin said. Quarrah paused on the ramp and looked back at her. “Nemery Baggish. She’s with her mother now.”

  Quarrah nodded. Ard would be glad to hear the report. He had really worried for young Nemery.

  “She thought he was a Wayfarist,” Tanalin continued. “You should have heard the things that girl said about him. You’d think she was describing a Holy Isle.” Tanalin chuckled bitterly. “Does anyone know the real Ardor Benn?”

  It was a question that had crossed Quarrah’s mind countless times. She’d seen him as a bantering ruse artist to Raek, as a suave composer to Cantibel Tren, as a gruff Harvesting captain to his criminal crew, and as a good Wayfarist to Nemery Baggish.

  But who was Ard to Quarrah Khai?

  “I could have left the girl on Pekal,” Tanalin continued. “Or turned her over to the Regulators.”

  “Nemery isn’t a criminal,” Quarrah answered. “Ard didn’t doubt for a minute that you’d do the right thing. You’re a hard act to follow, Tanalin Phor.” She turned and started down the ramp toward the docks.

  “Quarrah,” Tanalin called, causing her to stop once more. When Quarrah looked back, Tanalin seemed hesitant to say what was on her mind. At last, she spoke. “You’re not much for words.” Quarrah wrinkled her brow. Tanalin had called after her just to make an insult? “But I hear you’re good at other things.” Tanalin cast a sidelong glance down the dock. “His way isn’
t the only way to get what you need.”

  With that, Tanalin spun around and strode across the deck. Quarrah had reached the bottom of the ramp by the time Tanalin’s words really sank in.

  Appealing to Tanalin, asking for help, attempting to trick her into providing passage to Pekal. Those were all Ard’s tactics. If Quarrah was in charge, which she now was, there would be a different skill set used in obtaining a gelatinous egg.

  Steal it.

  The Crown’s Ashing was a busy atmosphere in preparation to set sail. Quarrah could easily get herself on board and stay concealed during the journey. The king’s Harvesting ship was fast, likely to make it to Pekal in just under ten hours. The expedition would take at least five days for the dragon to pass the indigestibles and the Harvesters to haul out the fired Slagstone.

  Quarrah had been planning to go with Tanalin anyway, and had left plenty of food and water within Ard’s reach. He would survive her absence.

  Quarrah turned back and stared at the big ship. The real difficulty would be working alone to acquire an egg on Pekal. Ard would never approve of this radical, underprepared plan, but Ard wasn’t running the ruse anymore. Quarrah Khai was in charge now.

  Quarrah moved quietly along the docks to get a good glimpse of the ship’s stern. There had to be an opening she could slip into somewhere …

  If only there was someone I could turn to for help. But I am more alone than ever. And my condition is fixed.

  CHAPTER

  40

  Quarrah dropped the Drift crate as the Grit burned out, the weight of the gelatinous egg inside causing her to stagger a few steps. She collapsed beneath a tree, sweaty back pressing against the bark as she tipped her water skin to drink. And she thought the Drift crate was cumbersome to carry in pairs! Lugging this thing on her own was going to break her back.

  Pekal was even more frightening than Quarrah remembered it. Last time, her comrades had been shot and torn to bits by dragons. But there had been a measure of security in numbers. This time, Quarrah was enduring the ominous grandeur of the mountain island in complete solitude.