Dark Shores

by Danielle L. Jensen

  “I suppose they might be interested if you keep paying,” she said, casting her eyes over the map in the hopes of gleaning what his strategy might be.

  He gestured to the padlocked chests sitting under the table. “We’ll pay. I don’t intend to make enemies of the Arinoquians.”

  “What do you intend?” she asked, the question sneaking out before she could think. How clever, Teriana, she silently chastised herself. What a talented spy you make.

  “I intend to do exactly what I told Flacre and the rest,” he said. “I intend to ally with the clans rebelling against Urcon’s false rule, and together, we will pull him and his underlings from power, likely using force. Then the clans can return to governing themselves individually, as they did previously.”

  “Why? What’s in it for you?”

  “A strong alliance would mean the long-term support of the Arinoquians.”

  Teriana’s stomach plummeted, the sudden understanding of his strategy like a slap to the face.

  “Rebellions are bloody uphill battles,” he said. “Urcon has more power and more resources than the clans rebelling against him, plus he has a paid mercenary army at his disposal. Flacre and his people, it seems they are skilled fighters, but they aren’t career soldiers. Their days are spent making lives for themselves and their families, and every time they have to fight, it takes them away from those responsibilities. It risks their lives. It risks the lives of everyone they care about, because of a certainty, Urcon retaliates. That they are willing to fight anyway is testament to how intolerable they consider his rule.”

  She stared at him, tongue frozen.

  “My men, on the other hand, are career soldiers,” he continued. “This is what we do. It is all we do, because the Senate ensures we are provided with every resource we need. The nature of the legions ensures that we have no one outside of our own brotherhood to protect, and even if some of my men have lingering sentiments for the families they left behind, the Empire is on the far side of the seas and untouchable by Urcon or anyone else seeking to retaliate.”

  She couldn’t breathe.

  “And I should think the reasons for why I want a strong alliance with the Arinoquians would be obvious. They will continue to aid us, and in exchange for coin, they will continue to supply us with food and resources. We will be able to establish a strong foothold here, which will allow us to explore farther afield in search of xenthier genesis stems while we wait for one of the Senate’s path-hunters to find us. Once we are successful, I’ll write up the necessary documents for you to present to the Senate as proof you fulfilled your end of our deal. You and yours will be free to go about your business, unmolested by the Empire.”

  How well Teriana saw it would go. Village after town after city capitulating without a fight because of the allure of such an alliance. By the time they toppled Urcon, which she supposed was inevitable, everyone in Arinoquia would see the Cel as gods-damned saviors, not the subversive conquerors they were.

  Marcus had known exactly what sort of place this would be from the information she’d given him, and he’d known exactly how to manipulate the strife in the region to his benefit. Rather than setting them up for failure, she had given him the exact circumstances the Cel needed to entrench themselves in the West. Worse still, knowing that she couldn’t be trusted, he’d put her in the position of knowing that if she undercut him, she’d be stealing away these people’s opportunity to rid themselves of their current oppressor.

  “You’re a slimy, wretched bastard,” she snarled. “Hiding behind the face of a benevolent hero until these people have lost all capacity to resist, then sending the Empire’s tax man to knock at their doors. Replacing one tyrant with another.”

  Marcus didn’t so much as blink. “Thanks to your friend Magnius, we all know my parentage isn’t in question. And the Empire won’t tax them beyond their capacity to pay—it wants them to thrive, because that’s how the Senate makes money.”

  “Oh, really?” she said, keeping her voice low enough that his men outside couldn’t hear. “Does Chersome thrive? Or is it still a smoldering pile of smoking corpses? Although I suppose the Senate could forgive you killing all those potential taxpayers, because you made it so they could buy a child’s indenture for less than a loaf of bread. As always, the Empire wins.”

  “Yes,” he replied, rubbing at his temple with one hand. “It does. But be glad it’s currently winning with gold and diplomacy, or you’d be standing in a field of corpses right now.”

  There was nothing Teriana could say to that. She needed to get back to the Quincense. To talk to Yedda and Polin about how they might use this information. “Anything else?”

  He shook his head.

  Teriana turned on her heel. “Then I’ll be—”

  “Staying right here.” Before she could do more than open her mouth to argue, he added, “This tent is constantly under guard.” He nudged a bolted chest with one foot. “Gold. Maps. Plans. It’s the safest place in camp.”

  Swallowing the rest of whatever was in his cup, he set it on the table and went to the rear of the tent, pushing aside a flap of canvas and disappearing. Teriana reluctantly followed, taking in the dimly lit space divided down the middle by a sheet. There was a bedroll on the ground, a small stack of her clothing and belongings sitting on top of it. On the other side of the sheet lay another bedroll, which Marcus stood next to. “This is your tent,” she said.

  “It’s the command tent,” he replied. “Since I’m in command, I sleep here. Amarin sleeps out front,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought.

  “I can sleep in a regular tent,” she stammered.

  “Too risky to have you unguarded. We know Cassius would rather kill you and risk stranding us than ever deliver on that contract, so you can bet Titus will aim to make that happen. I don’t intend to give him that opportunity.” Marcus crossed his arms. “And I’m not pulling men from other duties to watch you sleep when those guarding this tent can do the task just fine.”

  Sleeping in the same room as him on her ship had been one thing. But this tent … There’d be only a foot of space between the two of them. She’d rather try her luck naked in the jungle. “I’ll be safe on my ship.”

  “That’s not an option.”

  “Why? It isn’t as though we can sneak away in the night. Her decks are still swarming with your men.”

  “If your word is good, then I shouldn’t have to worry about you sneaking off,” he said. “But that isn’t what I meant—you staying on your ship is impossible.”

  “Why?” Her head shot up from her inspection of the tent. But the lamp cast shadows across Marcus’s skin, rendering his expression unreadable.

  “Because,” he said, fiddling with the buckle on his wrist guard, “the Quincense is gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “I dispatched the Quincense under the command of your aunt Yedda to an island we passed on our way in, where the ship will be anchored. They have some of our injured, along with enough of my men to ensure there is no trouble. They’ll remain there until your contract is fulfilled and it’s time to send you back to Celendor.”

  Teriana stared at him, barely able to process what he was saying. She needed them in order for there to be any chance of smuggling the information she learned out of the legion camp.

  “I know you can communicate with Magnius,” Marcus said, seeming to hear her thoughts. “But by my reckoning, that requires a certain proximity, which I don’t intend to allow, because I don’t trust you.”

  The crew was her family, the Quincense her home. The longest she’d been parted from them was when she’d been captive in Celendrial. It could take weeks for her to figure out a way to sabotage the legion’s mission, likely months. Maybe even years. And she’d have to spend them surrounded by her enemy, completely cut off from everyone who mattered to her. She clutched a handful of her hair, trying not to burst into tears as the tiny ornaments woven through it dug into her hands, because a
ll she could think about was with Yedda gone, who would braid her hair?

  “You, you…”

  “I’m not bringing them back, Teriana. Not until we find land-based xenthier paths to and from the Empire and we’re through with each other.”

  Or unless things go very badly for them. The thought must have been written across her face, because his darkened. “I’ve spent every day since I was a small child with this legion. With these men. Just how well do you think it would go for you if I believed you caused harm to befall any of them?”

  She huffed out an angry breath, because the alternative was a sob. “Yet you expect me to stand here and take whatever you dole out without comment?”

  “Oh, I expect plenty of comments from you, Teriana,” he snapped. “But right now, I want you to go outside and find a campfire to sit next to, because I’ve plans to make. And you’ll excuse me for not wanting you close enough to hear them.”

  28

  MARCUS

  Marcus squinted at the map, turning up the lamp in the hope that the blurred lines would focus. But the light was no cure for exhaustion.

  After he’d dispatched Teriana into Gibzen’s care, Felix and Servius had returned, the two of them digging through reports from the scouts, engineers, and cartographers, trying to get the lay of the land while Marcus reviewed more unfortunate material. The legion’s casualties from the xenthier crossing had been prepared. Twelve drowned. Forty-six injured, but only eight hurt badly enough not to march, all of those sent to the island with the Quincense. All the injured and dead were from the Thirty-Seventh. It could’ve been much worse. All four hundred on that ship might have been lost if not for Teriana’s swift action, Felix included.

  The official list was a bound book of numbers, each representing a man of the Thirty-Seventh, which the Senate required they keep updated. Deaths. Discharges. Desertions, of which there had only ever been one. Servius kept a secondary list that was the same, only it also included the men’s names. It was this list Marcus was staring at, the names of the dead stamping themselves on his memory.

  “We aren’t going to want to wait long on this.” Felix broke the silence, tapping his finger against a dot marking the small fortress city of Galinha, which was a day’s march north of their current position. “From what we’re gathering, all the militia forces harassing the towns and villages in this area are based here. Better to take them out at the source rather than picking them off up and down the coast.”

  Marcus made a noise of agreement, but he wasn’t really paying attention to what Felix was saying, his mind replaying his conversation with Teriana. The way her eyes had turned the color of storm-tossed seas, the venom in her voice. How she’d thrown Chersome in his face.

  “You even listening to me?” Felix demanded.

  “Yes.” No. “If we move too soon, we risk the population turning hostile. We want them to want us.”

  “And risk Urcon moving men from his stronghold in Aracam to bolster the city’s defenses?” Felix jabbed a finger at a dot farther north. “Right now, we’d take Galinha easily. We delay, that might change.”

  “It might.” Marcus rubbed one temple. “But we’ll stay the course until the scouts get back with more information on numbers. And we’ll see what information Teriana can dig out of the Arinoquians.”

  Felix’s hand stayed frozen where it was pressed against the map. “You trust the information she provides?”

  “With a grain of salt.” Marcus straightened, his back cracking. “She’s dependent on our success.”

  “Or plotting our failure,” Felix said. “She doesn’t want us here.”

  Replacing one tyrant with another. Teriana’s voice echoed through his skull.

  “Do you remember home?” Marcus asked, the question rising to his lips before he’d taken the opportunity to think through the consequences of asking.

  Both his friends lifted their heads. “The Empire?” Servius asked. “Or Campus Lescendor?”

  “No. Before that.”

  Felix and Servius exchanged looks, the latter eventually shrugging. “Sometimes I’ll see something that makes me think of it. When I see sisters together, it makes me think of mine.”

  “Baking bread,” Felix said. “The smell of it reminds me of sitting in my family’s bakery before the legions took me.”

  “Do you remember the tax man?” Marcus asked, watching their reactions. It was possible they’d been too young to have noticed, but even as the thought crossed his mind both of them nodded slowly.

  “A man came once a month,” Felix said, expression distant. “During bad months, I remember him always offering an arrangement to my parents that would allow them not to pay. Only they always did, even if it meant weeks without meat.”

  Marcus picked at the edge of the table, peeling off a splinter of wood. “The Empire makes a great deal of money off usury. They were smart not to take the deal.”

  “My family paid in grain,” Servius said, his brow furrowed. “Or livestock. They’d come around with wagons under legion guard. We used to sit in the trees and watch them march, and I’d brag that I’d be in their midst one day.” He laughed, but there was something uneasy about it. “Seems twisted to think about that now.”

  “You?” Felix asked, and Marcus gave his friend a long look, knowing that he was using the question to dig for information on something else.

  “Tax men do not knock on senators’ doors.”

  “I suppose not.” Felix rubbed a bit of grime off his wrist guard. “That patrician you beat bloody … He was your brother, wasn’t he? And your father is Senator Domitius?”

  There was no way he could deny it now, but Marcus fervently wished he hadn’t opened up this line of questioning. “Yes.”

  “Why the secret?” Felix asked, ignoring the warning look Servius gave him. “It wasn’t as though everyone didn’t know you were from the Hill: it was in your speech, the fact that you could read and do sums, and that you knew twice as much as the rest of us. Shit, Marcus, I remember your hands being soft as a girl’s.”

  Do not let anyone learn your identity. His father’s words echoed through his mind. If they do, our family will be ruined. Do you want your sisters forced to whore themselves on the streets? Your brother and me hanging from a noose? He swallowed, remembering how afraid he’d been of being discovered. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Why? There were dozens of patrician boys in our ranks. No one cared then, and they sure as shit don’t care now.”

  “Then why are you asking?”

  “Because! I want to know why you were willing to tell some pagan sea creature what you refused to tell your best friends for twelve years.”

  “Let it alone,” Servius said, trying to step between them, but Felix shoved him back.

  “Ever since we got back to Celendrial, you’ve been acting strange. Doubly strange since Teriana was thrown into the mix, but at least the reasons for that are obvious. I’m sick of you keeping secrets from us, especially since we are now stranded in this place.”

  Would it be so bad to tell them the truth?

  It would be, and Marcus knew it. It was one thing to keep things from them, but if his friends found out he’d been lying to them all these years? That he was not who he claimed to be and was part of a scheme that broke one of the most sacrosanct laws of the Empire? There’d be no coming back from that.

  “You want to know why I didn’t tell you? Fine.” Picking up a cup of water, he drained the contents. “My family was ashamed of my illness. They sent me to the legions expecting—and hoping—I’d die. They wanted to forget I ever existed, so I did them the same courtesy.” Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, he added, “Cassius knows who I am. He remembered that I was sick as a child, and he threatened to reveal the information if I didn’t help him. And I think it’s safe to say that Titus knows as well.”

  “So the reason they recalled us, the reason they chose us for this mission, was because Cassius had you marked for
blackmail.” Felix’s ears were a brilliant shade of red. “That rat bastard. And Titus? Do we need another reason to kill him?”

  “I’m not murdering a man because of what he might know, Felix.”

  “What about the fact that he tried to murder you? A knife in his back would end this. You wouldn’t have to worry.”

  “No,” Marcus snapped, as much angry at himself for finding the idea appealing as he was at Felix for suggesting it. “Drop it.”

  “Fine.”

  Before any of them could say more on the matter, Gibzen and Teriana staggered in, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, the spicy scent of rum wafting with them.

  “She’s fleeced us, sir,” Gibzen hollered, dropping a sack of coins on a stack of maps, then depositing Teriana on one of the stools.

  She was grinning like a mad fool, her eyes an alarming shade of cerulean. “Your men gamble poorly, Marcus.”

  “You’ve been drinking,” he said, and Teriana slowly clapped her hands together.

  “Not just a pretty face, are you, Legatus?”

  They stared each other down, her irises shifting and darkening. “I need to sleep,” she muttered, getting up and walking toward the rear of the tent. “G’night, Gibzen. Tell your boys I’ll let them try to win back their coin tomorrow night.”

  “Night, lovely!” Gibzen stretched, folding his arms behind his head, then finally seemed to notice Marcus glaring at him. “What? You told me to keep her out of the way until you were finished. Mission accomplished.”

  “Get out.” Exhaling softly, he waited until the primus was gone, then said to his friends, “We’ll pick up again tomorrow.”

  Gathering Teriana’s winnings, he went into the back, tossing the sack on her bedroll.

  “Didn’t think you’d let me keep it,” she said.

  “If they’re stupid enough to gamble with a Maarin sailor, then they deserve to lose.”