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Dad, this one is for you
1
TERIANA
The Quincense launched off the peak of a swell like she dreamed of taking flight. Her blue sails were full of the southerly wind that had been propelling them up the coast with an eagerness mirroring Teriana’s own. It had been months since they’d last been in Celendrial—and since she’d last seen Lydia. Her feet itched with excitement at the prospect of being reunited with her closest, albeit most unlikely, of friends.
The ship failed in her dream to remain airborne, crashing down against the turquoise sea and sending a salty spray into Teriana’s face, forcing her to finish tying the knot blind before wiping a damp sleeve across her face. Rising to her feet, she instinctively shifted her weight to keep her balance as the Quincense reared up on another swell. Her eyes she kept on the horizon as the ship slid around a rocky peninsula and Celendrial, the crown jewel of the Celendor Empire, came into view.
“Hello, lovely,” she shouted at the gleaming white sprawl stretching out beyond the enormous harbor, flanked on one side by a villa-encrusted hill and on the other by a towering statue of a legionnaire holding a standard bearing a gleaming gold dragon. A dozen enormous stone wharves reached out like fingers, countless ships originating from every province of the Empire busy unloading freight for sale in the markets beyond. Through the middle of it ran the river Savio, spilling its filthy contents into the harbor and turning the azure waters a murky greenish brown.
Grinning, Teriana gave the city a one-fingered salute before weaving her way back through her sea-soaked crew to where her mum stood at the helm. All Teriana’s anticipation would earn her were hours of cutting deals in the harbor market unless she negotiated some free time from the captain now.
Captain Tesya stood with one hand resting on the railing, the other holding a pipe that had gone cold from neglect, her ebony skin gleaming in the sun. Her hair was wrapped tight against her head with blue silk, but a few black curls had escaped to frame an older, grimmer version of Teriana’s own face, both of them possessing full lips, arched eyebrows, and rounded cheeks. On her mother’s neck, three small blue sapphires were pierced into the skin to form a triangle, marking her as a Triumvir of the Maarin Trade Consortium. At her elbow stood Teriana’s aunt Yedda, who peered intently through her spyglass at the coastline. Teriana caught the last of her words: “… Chersome’s sigh of relief will mean another nation is catching its breath.”
“No nation on this half of Reath left to catch its breath,” Teriana’s mother muttered. “Yet still, no good can come from them being here. Not with elections just round the corner. Might be time to take our leave. Time for all Maarin ships to take their leave.”
“Who you talking about?” Teriana asked, squinting at the coast beyond the glowering statue and outside the city proper. She could make out rows and rows of white tents rising up from the sandy beaches, marking the camp of one of the Empire’s legions. All across Celendor, along with most of its provinces, families were bound to deliver their second-born sons to the grounds of Campus Lescendor for legion training. Groomed for combat from early childhood, the legion’s soldiers were deadly and not to be crossed under any circumstance. Yet given their ever-presence across the East, she did not see how they were cause for comment.
It was her mother’s words, not the soldiers, that caused a tightening in her chest. Taking leave didn’t just mean going west—it meant staying there. And that meant never seeing Lydia.
“Don’t recall inviting you to join the conversation,” Teriana’s mother replied, turning her back to the wind to relight her pipe.
Teriana crossed her arms. “It’s my business where we sail.” Which was technically true. On her seventeenth birthday she’d been promoted to second mate, and the ship herself was Teriana’s birthright. If her mother intended to take the Quincense back through the paths, then—
“Methinks it’s self-interest and not ship’s business that’s brought you up here,” Aunt Yedda said, interrupting Teriana’s thoughts. “Am I wrong?”
The veracity of her comment warred with Teriana’s desire to know what the two had been talking about, but in the end, the former won out. “Can I leave once we’re docked?”
“You a passenger?” Tesya asked, lighting her pipe and blowing a smoke ring into Teriana’s face, which was no small feat given the gale-force wind.
“We don’t take passengers,” Teriana replied, because no Maarin ship did, but instantly regretted rising to the bait when both her mum’s eyebrows cocked.
“That’s because passengers are useless. Much like you, at present. Now hop to.”
There was no sense arguing. Her mother wasn’t fond of Teriana’s friendship with Lydia, whom she referred to as the child of a godless Cel landlubber, and picking a fight now would only see Tesya inventing excuses to keep Teriana in the harbor until it was too late to climb the Hill. Then fashioning a reason why the Quincense needed to sail at dawn. And then more reasons still why they shouldn’t come back, despite Celendrial providing them more income than nearly any other harbor on Reath. So instead Teriana said, “Aye, Captain,” and went off in search of busywork.
“No luck?”
Bait’s voice caught Teriana’s attention as she trudged down from the quarterdeck. Her friend sat on a pile of ropes sharpening one of his diving knives, exempt from general labor for the fact that he was god marked. Didn’t hurt that he had a wide smile that could charm anyone with eyeballs.
Kicking the ropes, Teriana scowled at the approaching city. “They want to go back west.”
Bait’s dark hands stilled; then he said, “Good.”
Teriana aimed her next kick at his shins, but her heart wasn’t in it. Anytime they were in a Cel-controlled port, which was every port in the eastern half of the world, Bait had to remain on the ship. The last thing anyone needed was Bait’s, or any other Maarin diver’s, god mark being discovered. The Cel were godless and bent on wiping what they referred to as paganism from the world, which meant they wouldn’t understand his differences. And she didn’t relish the notion of having to visit her friend in a specimen exhibit for the rest of their days.
Bait’s expression softened, and he shoved the knife back into the sheath strapped to his calf. “If she won’t let you go, Magnius and I will sneak you to shore tonight.”
An echo of affirmation from the Quincense’s guardian filled Teriana’s head, and she thumped her boot heel against the deck, knowing he’d hear it from where he swam beneath the ship.
“Drop sails!”
Her mother’s voice cut through the noise, and the crew devolved into a flurry of organized chaos as the massive stone wharves loomed closer,
one of the trade magister’s boats already moving in their direction, crimson and gold banner snapping above the oarsmen’s heads.
“Teriana!”
Teriana turned in time to see her mum clap her hands together, golden bangles gleaming in the sun, and she gave her mother a resigned nod. Hop to.
* * *
The sun hung low in the sky by the time they’d secured a berth, unloaded their freight, paid the taxes, and satisfied the dour-faced magister that while they might indeed be carrying contraband, they had no intention of off-loading it in his precious harbor.
“Blasted godless Cel pigs and their rules!” Tesya pounded her fist against the rail with every curse, then spit on the pristine dock.
The magister turned and inclined his head. “Always pleasure doing business with the Maarin,” he said in passable Mudamorian, which the Cel knew as Trader’s Tongue, earning a reluctant smile from Tesya.
“That one isn’t so bad,” she said, then turned on Teriana. “Well? You going to stand there dancing from foot to foot like a child about to piss her pants, or are you going to get going?”
“I’m gone,” Teriana replied, stepping onto the gangplank even as her mother jerked her back onto the deck, pressing a dusty bottle into her hand.
“One does not show up at a senator’s door empty-handed, girl.” Then she exhaled softly. “Give Senator Valerius my regards. And Lydia, too. Then be back by dawn. There’s trouble brewing, and I’m not fixing to be part of it.”
Teriana sprinted down the plank before her mother had the chance to change her mind.
2
TERIANA
The Cel believed Celendrial to be the heart of the world. While they were incorrect in that presumption, the city had fair claim to being the heart of the Empire, and by virtue of the Empire controlling all of the eastern landmasses of Reath, the heart of their half of the world. Celendrial was an enormous sprawling place, home to over a million souls hailing from the far northern reaches of Sibern, to the fertile lands of Atlia, to the towering mountains of the Sibalines, and everywhere in between, including Celendor itself.
The quality of the streets improved exponentially as Teriana climbed uphill and away from the harbor and the always-ripe river Savio. The cramped insulae and narrow alleys of the city’s underbelly gave way to wide boulevards with elaborate stone aqueducts running down their centers. Towering public buildings that were all columns and arches lined the streets, and every corner featured a statue of some famous legionnaire or politician, the latter usually bearing profane, and often amusing, graffiti. Farther still had Teriana surrounded by the domus of the wealthier citizens, set back and often gated from the street, their entrances flanked by columns, the walkways leading to them bordered by gardens.
Yet it wasn’t until the streets ended, replaced by narrow, meandering pathways and staircases of carefully maintained stone, that she was faced with the true wealth and power of the Empire. The Hill was covered with palatial senatorial homes barely visible past the shading of ancient trees and cultivated gardens, the air full of the scent of flowers and citrus trees, all of it contained by high walls and elaborately wrought gates.
Teriana was both panting and sweating by the time she reached the top, where the grandest of all the villas overlooked not the city, but the ocean beyond. There she stopped to allow the breeze to dry her skin before marching up to a set of gates. There was no bell, and she waited only half a heartbeat before hooking a toe into the bars and climbing over, the contents of the bottle her mother had sent along sloshing as she landed with a thud.
Columns linked with elaborately carved arches flanked a pathway made of square marble tiles, at the center of which ran a narrow pool filled with water lilies and golden koi. At the far end, a statue of a nude woman holding out a slender hand in greeting sprayed water gently upon the pool, and Teriana paused to rinse her hands before climbing the marble steps to the heavy door inlaid with small squares depicting Celendor’s conquests. Not bothering to knock, she pushed it open and stepped inside.
The atrium was open roofed, revealing the first stars of the night sky. Beneath the opening sat an enormous bronze basin to collect the rare rainfall. Small benches framed the perimeter, behind which were alcoves containing busts of stern-faced men. To the left and right were curved staircases leading up to the second level, but Teriana continued through the door at the back of the atrium. The air was slightly damp and filled with the scent of flowers from the soaked linens stretched taut across the sea-facing windows. During the day, the corridors of the home were filled with the soft sounds of servants going about their duties, but it was now past sunset and the only noise was the jarring notes of male laughter coming from the rear of the villa.
Teriana strolled down the corridor in their direction, stepping into a brightly lit room filled with a miasma of food, booze, and scented oil, none of which did anything to cover up the smell of sweat.
“Of course, I’ll fund the entire event,” said one of the men sprawled across a divan, his back to Teriana. “It seems only fair given that I’m coming out ahead in our transaction.”
“You are kind to say so,” replied a young patrician lounging across from him, his toga gaping enough that his companions deserved accolades for keeping straight faces. “Really, truly, you are doing us the most tremendous of favors. We are in your debt for you doing us this service.”
Teriana was in the midst of wondering how the young man could breathe with his head shoved so far up the other man’s ass when the obsequious buffoon caught sight of her. “What is this? What is this?” He nearly fell stumbling to his feet, obviously drunk, and leveled a finger at Teriana. “What is this?”
“Good evening to you, too,” she drawled, then nodded to Lydia’s father, who had also climbed to his feet. “Evening, Senator.”
The man whose back had been turned was now facing her, the expression on his gold-skinned face both amused and … cold. “Fine night, isn’t it?” she said to him.
“That it is.” He smiled, and Teriana fought the urge to take a step back, sensing something off about him. Something dangerous.
“How did you get in here?” the young patrician demanded, dragging Teriana’s attention back to him.
“Front door.”
“How is that possible?”
“I opened it.”
“You opened it?” The man was spluttering with indignation and alcohol, and Teriana leaned back on her heels, trying to keep her grin in check. The Empire was rigidly hierarchical, with patricians, who were all Celendorian, at the top, followed by the plebeians, who were common Celendorian citizens. Then came the peregrini, who were those from the conquered nations—now provinces—that made up the bulk of the Empire. Plebeians and peregrini did not wander uninvited into the homes of patricians, but given that the Maarin were neither, being the only people in the East not under the control of the Empire, Teriana did not consider herself bound to that particular protocol. She was a peer to these men, even if they didn’t know it.
“I’m afraid there’s little to add to my account of the opening of the door,” she said. “Though I could demonstrate, if that would assist your comprehension of such a grand tale.”
The young man’s golden skin began to take on a distinctly purple hue, but the cold-eyed man laughed and lifted his glass to toast her.
“Now, now,” Senator Valerius finally spoke, hurrying between her and the young man, who was straightening his toga as though preparing for some great defense of the villa’s unlocked doors. “This young woman is known to me.” His eyes latched on to the bottle in Teriana’s hand. “You needn’t have brought it here yourself, my dear. I would’ve arranged for its retrieval had I known your mother’s ship was in port.”
The warning look in his eye chased away any confusion she might’ve had, and Teriana shrugged. “Best of service for the best of customers, Senator. Now if you’d be kind enough to settle…”
“Of course, of course.” He placed a hand on
her shoulder and shuffled her out of the room. “What was the price we agreed upon?”
She named an obscene number, but it wasn’t until they were down the hallway that Senator Valerius dropped his arm and shook his head at her. “I appreciate your cheek, Teriana, but you really do push your luck. Perhaps next time a note to warn us of your arrival.”
“Seems like a waste of time and paper,” she said, handing him the bottle.
“Why am I not surprised that you think so.” He sighed, the hand gripping the bottle trembling. “She’s in the library. Do keep your voices down until my company has departed.”
“Will do.” Teriana gave him one backward glance, noting that Lydia’s foster father’s gold skin was sallower than it had been the last time she’d seen him, then trotted down the corridor and up the stairs to the library.
Soft lamplight filtered out of the large room, and Teriana paused in the doorway, casting an appreciative eye over the bookshelves stretching up to the ceiling, all filled with rare and precious volumes written in every language of the East. While she wouldn’t trade her life on the Quincense for anything, living on a ship did mean certain space constraints.
Lydia sat at a desk on the far side of the library, shoulders hunched over whatever it was she was working on. The fact that she was adopted aside, Teriana’s friend was an anomaly on the Hill. A head (and often shoulders) taller than most of the Cel, she had dark hair where theirs was fair, and her ivory skin was distinctly not native to scorching-hot Celendor. What she looked like were the people from northern Mudamora in the West, especially with those angular green eyes with their quartz-like luster. She was the spitting image of High Lady Dareena Falorn, which was comical in that Dareena was a god-marked warrior and Lydia had never wielded anything sharper than a pen. Striking as the resemblance was, though, it was impossible that Lydia had been born in the West. Only Maarin vessels were capable of traversing the Endless Seas, and her people did not take passengers. Ever.
Dark Shores Page 1