“How did you use your magic?” Falcon asked curiously. “There were about a hundred mages here, and everyone had trouble, a lot of pain when they tried to concentrate on using their power. Nobody knew what to make of it.”
“I had friends to help.” Yanko could still sense that cursed mage-hunter artifact, but it wasn’t as noticeable up here. He was surprised it had kept the mages in the dome from drawing upon their power, unless the dome had somehow held that skin-crawling sensation in or even reflected it back toward the ground.
“Are you the ones who caused the dome to disappear?” Falcon looked toward Yanko’s group, his gaze lingering on Dak, who still wasn’t moving. “Or… uhm, is that a Turgonian?”
“Yes. My bodyguard.” Yanko smiled. He would explain more later, assuming Dak didn’t object. “And I did break the energy flow to the artifact that created the dome, almost at the expense of my life. Dak—” Yanko pointed at him as he said his name, “—pulled me out of a cave-in and saved my life. Again.”
“You said he’s your bodyguard? How did you manage that? Some kind of magic?”
“It’s a long story. Can you take me to Zirabo?”
“We can go look for him together. I’m surprised he hasn’t come over already. It’s not as if any of us missed seeing that battle.” Falcon started walking with him but squinted toward the sea instead of at the crowds of people.
Yanko glanced in that direction, not expecting to see anything in the dark of night, but lights shone out on the water, less than a half mile from land. The lights of a ship. Or many ships. The prisoners were lining up at high points to look out, pointing and speculating.
Yanko groaned. Had the Swift Wolves already learned about the chaos on their prison island and sent a fleet of ships to put a stop to it? How could they have arrived so quickly?
You do not appear to be as pleased as you should be to see my ships, Pey Lu’s dry voice spoke into his mind.
Yanko halted abruptly, making Falcon look back to see why he’d stopped.
“Sorry,” Yanko said. “Can you find Zirabo for me, please? I need to talk to someone else first.”
“Sure, send the lame prisoner who hasn’t had a decent meal in a year to run errands for you.” Falcon smirked, his eyes twinkling even though it was a legitimate grievance. He was probably too delighted to be out of that dome to care about running errands.
“It’s only been two months since I saw you at home,” Yanko said.
“Yes, but I was in the army before that. Trust me, it’s been a long time since I had a decent meal. I don’t suppose you can arrange something?” Wishfulness filled his eyes, even though he kept his tone light and joking, and Yanko could only imagine how hard and demoralizing being a prisoner here had been.
Yanko glanced toward the ships. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Mother? Yanko asked.
Who else speaks telepathically to you?
More people than you would think. Mostly enemies who are cranky with me.
She shared the mental equivalent of a snort. I can imagine.
You came to help transport prisoners? Yanko asked.
If they’ll agree to ride on the ships of the pirate captain Snake Heart, I will take them to the mainland.
Thank you, he replied sincerely, though he worried there would be a catch. Uhm, what made you change your mind?
I talked to Gramon. He said he owes you a favor.
I wasn’t sure he was still with you since he was alone in Yellow Delta.
He did leave for a while, something about finding it too distressing to work for someone who had a knack for almost getting herself killed on a regular basis.
Yanko remembered the throwing star that had slammed into the side of his mother’s neck.
But then he got himself drunk and captured and reconsidered his hasty departure. At the least, he said he should have waited until we were in a Turgonian port to leave.
I… see, Yanko thought, though he wasn’t sure he did. A lovers’ quarrel? A breakup? It was hard to imagine his mother allowing herself to be drawn into something so emotional.
However, she added, if you feel so indebted to me that you wish to become my apprentice and sail with the Midnight Fleet, that can still be arranged.
Father and Falcon are here. I think they’d be disappointed in me if I made that choice.
Yanko rocked back, imagining his father coming face-to-face with his mother and her Turgonian lover. Even after all these years and all she had done, he never seemed to have gotten over her. Maybe Yanko would try to arrange it so they weren’t on the same ship together. Ever.
“Yanko?” a new voice asked, one Yanko hadn’t heard in many months.
He turned, expecting Falcon and Prince Zirabo, but Zirabo stood alone, his clothes as grimy and ragged as Falcon’s. His hair was down instead of in its customary topknot and hung shaggily about his face, and his magical flute was nowhere to be seen. He was even gaunter than Falcon and clearly hadn’t been treated as an honored prisoner. Fury for him—for all of the moksu families—swelled in Yanko’s breast.
“Honored Prince,” he blurted, realizing he’d been staring and fuming instead of offering a proper greeting.
Zirabo’s eyes widened, and he lifted his hand. “Please, just call me Zir.”
“Zir? Are you… incognito?” With another glance toward the still supine Dak, Yanko wondered if three-letter names were the norm for people traveling undercover.
“A few people here know who I am, but I’ve tried to keep it a secret. Right before I arrived, one of my father’s cousins, who’d been taken prisoner before me, was executed in cold blood. I’m told a bunch of soldiers marched out, had him pinned to a post, and filled him with crossbow quarrels.”
“By the wolf god’s fangs,” Yanko whispered.
He would have expected a firing squad from Turgonians but not from Nurians. He’d always thought his people were more civilized than that. Less savage. Maybe he was, as so many of his traveling companions kept telling him, naive.
He opened his mouth, intending to tell Zirabo that he’d completed his quest—sort of—and share the news of the continent, but the prince spoke again first.
“I was fortunate to have been staying with a local family for a few days, and when the rebels collected us all, they didn’t know that they’d acquired one of the Great Chief’s sons.” Zirabo leaned forward and gripped Yanko’s shoulder. “Tell me, Yanko. You’re the first person from outside who’s been brought in since they reached maximum capacity, as they called it. The soldiers wouldn’t even speak to us. Is my father—have you heard anything? My brothers?”
Yanko licked his lips. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to bring bad news. He’d wanted to bring good news, as he still considered the continent to be, even if he seemed to be the only one concerned about it presently.
“I’ve been out of Nuria myself,” Yanko said slowly, “and only recently had a chance to stop in Yellow Delta, so what news I’ve heard has been second- or thirdhand.”
Zirabo lowered his hand, his face turning grave. He looked so much older than he had when he’d visited the mines earlier in the year.
“I was told your father is dead and that your siblings are either dead or in hiding.” Yanko watched his face for a reaction, not sure how close Zirabo had been to his family.
Even if he hadn’t been much like them, he would have to be stunned by the loss of people who had always been a part of his life.
“I see,” Zirabo whispered. “I’d heard—there have been rumors, of course. And the very fact that the Swift Wolves were powerful enough to capture so many of us, and that there weren’t any rescue attempts by the government… Early on, we all hoped for a rescue, you see. And then we all got numb and forgot to care.” He smiled, a noticeably forced smile. “And then you came. I’m grateful, and the others will be too, I’m sure. You made quite an impression with your battle. And, ah, your fleet?”
He glanced toward the ships with the ligh
ts. Several longboats were already visible among the waves, rowing in to retrieve people.
“It’s the fleet of… a relative.”
Zirabo’s eyebrows flew up. “Snake Heart?”
“Given how infamous she is, I guess that wasn’t as vague as I’d intended.”
“Perhaps not. Yanko, did you ever find the lodestone?” A glimmer of hope entered Zirabo’s eyes. “I’ve often thought that the discovery of a new continent might be enough to end this civil war and bring our people together again.”
“I found it briefly. There were many others searching for it too.” Yanko didn’t want to accuse Zirabo of not giving him sufficient warning about Sun Dragon and all the trouble he would have, but since he hadn’t exactly completed the task given to him, he felt compelled to explain himself.
Zirabo closed his eyes. “Someone else got it?”
“For a time. I had to fight Pey Lu and a Jaikon Sun Dragon for it.”
“The Sun Dragons have been prominent in this civil war.”
“So I’ve heard. Jaikon and I were battling over the lodestone on the deck of a Turgonian ironclad as it sailed to the location of the sunken continent. That was Sun Dragon’s idea, not mine.” Again, he felt the need for excuses, to explain why the continent had already resurfaced. His task had simply been to bring the lodestone to Zirabo.
As Zirabo opened his mouth to speak, the sound of flapping wings reached their ears.
Yanko turned his face away in time to avoid being battered in the cheek by those wings as Kei landed on his shoulder. His landings were always questionable, but they were worse at night.
“Time to sleep,” Kei squawked, leaning forward so his beady eyes could peer at Yanko’s face. “Time to sleep.”
“I know. I’ll be ready for that soon.”
“Is that…” Zirabo tilted his head, regarding the parrot.
Kei faced him and lifted his legs up and down, talons sinking in as he readjusted himself. “Puntak, puntak.”
“It is the Komitopis’s bird,” Zirabo said with wonder.
“Kei is impressively famous,” Yanko said.
“Infamous, perhaps.”
“Puntak, puntak. Prettier than a whore.” Kei peered at Zirabo as he said that.
“Er, I haven’t heard that one before.” Yanko’s cheeks flushed.
Kei flapped his wings, whacking Yanko on the side of the head, and startled him by flying to Zirabo’s shoulder. “Prettier than a whore.”
“We’ve met before,” Zirabo said dryly. “The first time I was at the house, Tikaya’s grandfather—the original owner of the bird—still lived. I overheard a comment about me being too young, pretty, and useless to be able to stand up to the diplomats of other nations. It seems the bird also overheard a few of his comments about me. He was a cantankerous and racist old man. Fortunately, he lived out back and wasn’t often at the main house.”
“Kei,” Yanko said, “that’s Zirabo. Zir-ah-bow.”
Kei squawked. “Prettier than a whore.”
“Does he call you by name?” Zirabo asked.
“No. I get the generic slur.”
“Ah. What happened when the lodestone reached the location of the continent? You say it was submerged? That had been my guess, the only reasonable way an entire continent could remain hidden in this age of world-traveling navies and merchant ships.”
“Yes, Honored—uhm, Zir. As I said, Sun Dragon and I ended up battling, and he threw the lodestone overboard. There was a pocket in a volcano down there that it was drawn to, and it acted like a key. A geyser shot up and fried Sun Dragon, and soon after, the continent rose. The Turgonian ships barely avoided being beached hundreds of miles from the eventual coastline.”
“Fried? He’s dead?”
“Yes. The Turgonians survived. They took me, Lakeo, Arayevo, and Jhali—” Yanko started to point to where she had been standing, but she had disappeared.
He hoped Jhali hadn’t figured out whose fleet that was, or she might make another attempt to kill his mother. Yanko had better finish his conversation with Zirabo quickly, so he could search for her and make sure that did not happen. An assassination attempt would be a horrible way to thank Pey Lu for coming to help.
“They took us to Turgonia, and we escaped with the help of Consul Tynlee. And Dak looked the other way and brought me my gear.” Yanko shifted his pointing finger toward Dak.
Tynlee was instructing her bodyguards to pick him up and take him back to her yacht. He didn’t stir as the two men jostled him as they tried to figure out the best way to carry a six-and-a-half-foot Turgonian. Yanko hoped that didn’t bode poorly for Dak’s future. He was so used to his Turgonian friend being indestructible.
Tynlee noticed them looking over and smiled and waved. The gesture seemed encouraging.
“And he accompanied you? I wouldn’t have expected Colonel Dak to show up here with you.” Zirabo didn’t share his surname, though all of the prisoners had left the area, climbing down to the coast, apparently realizing they were being given a ride off the island.
“We’ve been working together for a while,” Yanko said. “You remember that I met him when he was very briefly a prisoner in my uncle’s mine.” He winced, reminded that the mine was in rebel hands now and his uncle was dead.
“So that he could break out other Turgonians. Yes, I remember.” Zirabo nodded.
“I saw him in Red Sky and convinced him to come along and act as a bodyguard for me. After the mines were taken and my family was kidnapped, I didn’t have anyone except Lakeo, you see. And I knew he was a superlative warrior.”
“That he is.” Zirabo smiled faintly, though his eyes held concern. He had to be wondering if the continent was already in Turgonian hands.
“I didn’t tell him my mission, but he figured it out along the way. He’s, uh, smarter than he looks.”
The smile was less faint this time. “Yes.”
“If it hadn’t been for his help, I wouldn’t have gotten far. The Turgonians know about the continent, unfortunately. I attempted to delay the delivery of the orders to report it to their president, but…” Yanko spread a hand. “By now, they know. It was just a bare rock-and-dirt land mass covered with seaweed, and nobody else seems to see its future potential like I do, so it’s my hope that they won’t rush to claim it. But I’d also hoped to be able to find you right away and that you would be in a position to send a fleet, so we could solidify Nuria’s claim.”
Yanko couldn’t help but look Zirabo up and down. He was missing one shoe.
“I’m afraid I’m not in that position, alas. But this is too important to simply let them have it without a fight.”
Yanko nodded, glad someone finally agreed with him.
“I’ll see what I can do when we get back to the mainland, but I’m afraid most of my allies have been on the losing side of the rebellion so far.” Zirabo touched a bruise on his cheek and gazed around, looking more like a lost and forlorn waif than a thirty-something diplomat, mage, and son of the Great Chief.
Yanko’s soul withered. He’d hoped that when he found Zirabo, he would be able to hand off all of his problems to the prince, but as he looked at Zirabo, he saw a gaunt, injured, and beleaguered man who couldn’t even lay claim to his name right now.
“Yanko,” Falcon called from the side, waving. “When you’re done, I’ll take you to see everybody else. We’re rounding them up.”
We’re?
A man stood next to Falcon, every bit as gaunt and beleaguered as Falcon and Zirabo. Yanko swallowed. There was more gray in Father’s hair now, and it seemed thinner, starting farther up his forehead. His eyes were sunken with dark circles underneath them.
Father didn’t wave enthusiastically, as Falcon did, but he nodded gravely when he saw Yanko and glanced toward the remains of the soul construct.
Yanko’s innards twisted up, and it had nothing to do with the magic-repulsing artifact this time. He grew inexplicably nervous at the notion that Father had been here all a
long, watching. Had he seen the battle? Would he finally be proud of Yanko? Or would he find fault in the methods Yanko had used?
“Go see your family,” Zirabo said. “I will speak with—you said that was Consul Tynlee, right?—and consider the best course of action.”
“Yes, her yacht is docked on the other side of the fortress.” Yanko waved in that direction, though they couldn’t see the inlet through the sprawling stone complex.
“That’s fortuitous. I’ve read several of her books. She should be aware of the latest news and have some wisdom to share on current events. And the machinations of men.”
Yanko nodded, relieved to see a hint of a spark in Zirabo’s eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to speak with you, especially if you’ve read her books. I, uhm, don’t think she encounters many people who have.”
“One of them is required reading at the university in the Great City.”
Yanko wasn’t sure that meant a lot of people read it, but he decided not to make a joke at Tynlee’s expense. He liked her, and she had helped him a great deal.
“She’s been stationed in Turgonia,” Yanko said, in case Zirabo didn’t know, “but she just had a chat with her publisher in Nuria, and I believe she got a lot of updates on what’s been going on in between discussions of Turgonian muscles.”
Zirabo blinked. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s been a strange couple of months.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” Zirabo rested a hand on his shoulder. “May I call upon you later? If you’re willing to continue to help me… I can’t promise much of anything I’m afraid, but I would be honored to have you as an ally.” His brows rose in hope.
Yanko had never imagined that someone so important would want him as an ally. And ask in such a way that he seemed uncertain that Yanko would accept. Even if Zirabo wasn’t, as he’d been noting earlier, in a powerful position right now, he could become important again, since, as a direct descendant, he had a better claim on his father’s dais than any of the self-elected rebel leaders. Having someone like that humbly request his assistance was surreal.
Assassin’s Bond: Chains of Honor, Book 3 Page 29