Scarred Man

by Bevan McGuiness

  As they approached the coast, the sea changed, altering the ship’s motion from the gentle roll Maida had become used to, to a steeper, jarring rise and fall. Even the colour of the water changed from silvery blue to an angry-looking green, flecked with more and more white. The thunder of even the gentle swell pounding against the iron-hard fingers that reached out from the shore was startlingly loud.

  Maida stood in the prow, becoming increasingly nervous. Ahead, the sea was white with foam as the water surged and heaved. How it had changed so suddenly into this frighteningly dangerous mess of wild water was a mystery. Spray exploded over the front of the ship as it rose and then plunged down, soaking Maida completely. Beside her, Myrrhini screamed in fear, but stayed, gripping the railing with white-knuckled intensity.

  The roar of steep breakers smashing on the shoals grew louder, the spray of water became more frequent and the ship’s motion became more violent as the pilot guided it through the churning maelstrom. Maida became aware of another person near her as the Ce Atli joined the two women in the prow.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she shouted over the pounding of water and crashing of the ship.

  ‘Always wise to stare the demon in the face,’ he shouted back. ‘And besides, have you ever been below deck in a sea like this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Believe me, it’s better up here.’

  ‘You’re an idiot!’

  ‘Always have been, always will be.’

  ‘But you are afraid of the sea.’

  ‘I am, but if I act like I do not fear her, maybe one day I will fool myself. As the philosopher once said, how you feel will follow what you do.’

  ‘How do you know Lac’un philosophy?’

  ‘I travel a lot.’

  Maida felt a pang of sympathy for the tall, elegant healer who sailed for the Blindfolded Queen, yet feared every day aboard ship. He stood beside her, staring out at the insane waters, obviously barely controlling his stomach, looking more green than any living man had the right to do. She cried aloud as the Queen’s Quest plunged suddenly, driving its prow into the green water, soaking all three of them once again. Myrrhini screamed as the water surged up over the deck and almost washed her feet out from under her. She scrambled madly, trying to keep her feet, but the wash of water was too strong and she slipped and fell. Still screaming, she was driven across the deck until she crashed into the Ce Atli’s legs. He buckled under the impact, almost losing balance himself. Maida saw his face when Myrrhini collided with him, and she had never in her life seen such naked terror.

  Despite his own fear, he released one hand from the rail to reach down to grab Myrrhini’s arm and heave her back up onto her feet. When she was standing, she clung to him like her life depended on it.

  Which, Maida reflected, might well be true.

  The Queen’s Quest was slammed sideways by a sudden shift in the wind that caught everyone unawares. It heeled over and rolled around, coming momentarily broadside to a massive wave. Screams rang out as men were hurled across the deck; several were thrown into the churning sea to be lost in heartbeats, while several more suffered injuries. The pilot cursed loudly and strained against the wheel to bring the ship back onto an even keel once more.

  The Ce Atli held Myrrhini tightly, as much, Maida guessed, to reassure himself as the shaking, terrified woman at his side. As Maida watched him hold Myrrhini, allowing his hand to slide down her back a little, she wondered about even that. It was as she had suspected — even when faced with death, a man would not pass up the opportunity to feel a woman’s body.

  What was the expression? All cats purr if you stroke them. The Ce Atli was evidently testing the theory. And from the way Myrrhini was moulding herself into the Ce Atli, the experiment was proving successful.

  Ice and wind! The ship could go down at any moment and he’s feeling her up! What is it with men? Her exasperation, she knew, was only partly real; it was also fuelled by Keshik’s extended absence.

  The Queen’s Quest rose alarmingly over a steep wave before slamming down into another deep trough. The water cascaded up over the deck again, eliciting another scream from Myrrhini. The Ce Atli held her closer, wrapping his free arm around her, feeling yet more.

  Any closer and you’ll be fathering her children.

  Maida took her eyes from them to watch the surging mass of green and white water boiling madly around them. The ship plunged and rose, groaning in protest as it was tossed about like a child’s toy. A particularly loud creak came from the mainmast as the ship rolled first one way, then the other, sending the mast whipping back and forth like a fishing pole. A man was flung from it to disappear into the maelstrom.

  How many men has this passage cost?

  And then they were through. The water stilled, the ship settled once more onto an even keel and they were heading towards Sullito. Myrrhini slowly disentangled herself from the Ce Atli who let her step away without apparent concern.

  Any port in a storm, any body either, by the look of it. And she looked down on me for trying to escape by using Patecoatl!

  Sullito harbour was unusual. Not only were there very few deep-water ships at anchorage, but there was also little of the normal stench of harbours and even less of the raucous shouting of sailors and merchants. Everywhere, instead, were sleek, black river boats that slipped past their bigger, more cumbersome cousins.

  ‘Sullito’s mostly built over the sea,’ Huitzilin explained. ‘The river boats are the main way of travelling through the city.’

  ‘Why was it built that way?’ Maida asked.

  ‘At first to escape the Midacean army, but as it grew larger, it spread back towards the land. By the time the city reached the land, it had been fully annexed by Midacea. Now it’s just a quirk of the city, like the Ruthia inside Leserlang.’

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ Myrrhini asked.

  ‘South, and east.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘As long as it takes.’

  Maida snorted and stalked away. The achulti, with his pompous attitude and strutting carriage, annoyed her. Besides, she needed time to plan her escape. In the confusion of disembarking from the ship, she was sure an opportunity would present itself and she wanted to be ready when it did.

  A river boat bumped into the hull of the Queen’s Quest, signalling the beginning of the unloading process. In moments, there were several of them nosing at the ship like small fish gathering around a black ray kill, seeking a titbit, some morsel left by the bigger hunter. The unloading proceeded efficiently and it was not long before Maida was approached by Huitzilin flanked by three other Agents.

  ‘Time for us to go, Maida,’ he said. In his hand, he held a chain with a large manacle attached to one end. Maida gave first the chain, then the achulti, a hard stare.

  ‘What’s that for?’ she said.

  Huitzilin just raised his eyebrows and gave her a condescending look. ‘You have a number of nasty habits, Maida. This,’ he held up the large single manacle, ‘will help you overcome one of them.’

  Quickly, the Agents grabbed her by the arms and held her tightly while Huitzilin fastened the chain around her waist. It was not tight and sat heavily on her hips but it would neither pass down over her hips nor up over her shoulders. She spat at Huitzilin and lunged at him, but the three Agents held her firmly as she raged.

  ‘Relax, Maida,’ he said as he stepped quickly away from her. ‘I spoke to the Ce Atli and he assured me this would not cause the problems the wrist and ankle chains caused — at least as long as you keep your clothes on — and it will make sure you don’t run away again.’

  ‘I thought Iskopra wouldn’t let you chain me again,’ she snapped.

  ‘While we are aboard, no, but we are leaving his little domain and his protection of you ends the moment we step off the ship.’

  ‘We are still aboard.’

  Huitzilin gave her a leering grin and then made a curt gesture to the Agents who still held her. They lifte
d her and carried her to the edge of the ship. ‘You’re not now,’ Huitzilin said as the Agents threw her into the harbour.

  Maida had the chance to cry out once before she hit the cold water. She began to sink but was brought up short as Huitzilin jerked on his end of the chain, dragging her back to the surface which was coated in a film of oily residue. Maida coughed, spluttered and cursed in equal amounts as she thrashed about at the end of the chain. Above her, men laughed and pointed. Huitzilin held the chain tightly in his fist.

  ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘Did you slip and lose your balance, Lady? Just as well I am holding this, isn’t it?’ He stretched out his fist until it was over the side of the ship. ‘If I were to let this go, you might just drown in there. Wouldn’t that be terrible?’

  Maida stopped screeching abuse at the achulti and hung onto the chain, staring up at him. Huitzilin handed the chain to Opochtli.

  ‘Keep her there until we are ready to leave,’ he told the Agent.

  In the end, Maida hung at the end of the chain, swearing steadily at an impassive Opochtli until late in the afternoon, when she was dragged towards one of the black river boats before being heaved on board. She was weak and shivering uncontrollably from the cold, and lay in the bottom of the boat, hugging herself, trying to restore circulation to her aching limbs. Tatya, who had somehow managed to sneak aboard, snuggled warm against her chest. Maida was sorely tempted to suggest she shift form into the black spurre and tear a few Agents to pieces, but she knew this would just get the shapeshifter killed, so she contented herself with imagining the scene.

  The boat left the harbour and made its way along a narrow waterway, the Sullito equivalent of a road. Maida was too cold and too exhausted from shivering to pay much attention to her surroundings, so she had no feel for where she was taken, only really noticing when she was roughly heaved up onto her feet and unceremoniously dragged onto a wooden jetty. From there, she was urged along similar planked passages, through a doorway and then shoved into a room. Maida staggered and fell heavily onto the floor.

  ‘Get dry,’ Opochtli ordered. ‘I’ll be back in a while.’ He tossed the chain into the room with her and slammed the door. Maida heard a key turning in a lock.

  Tatya shimmered and shifted into the woman. She stooped, slid her arms under Maida and carried her to the bed. Maida felt Tatya undress her and then rub her dry with the blankets, slowly bringing the warmth back into her body. When she was dry, Tatya wrapped her in other blankets and left her to rest. Maida drifted into comfortable sleep, and barely registered Tatya’s shift into the rodent and subsequent departure.

  35

  The air was heavy with humidity and hotter than Slave had imagined possible. He and Keshik pushed their stolen horses to the edge of exhaustion as they rode to the nearest town. Overhead, lightning split the sky and thunder rolled over the treetops. The rain would be heavy and warm and he felt unable to cope with another night sleeping in the open. They had been riding for too many days now, working their way steadily south. Everywhere they went, they had been met with suspicion and distrust.

  At least Midacea was not a vast barren plain like C’sobra, or never-ending farmland like Lac’u. Here, there were trees and hills, even the occasional stream. Unfortunately, with a more welcoming landscape came more people, and with more people came more questions — as there would be tonight when they rode into the little village just ahead of them.

  Slave urged his mount on for a last effort, to get into shelter before the massive clouds above them could dump their load of water onto the road and turn it into a quagmire. Beside him, Keshik rode easily as befitted one who had, it seemed, spent most of his life on horseback. The man’s ability and comfort on a horse was a source of amazement to Slave. How could anyone enjoy the company of these stinking, unfriendly beasts?

  The village loomed ahead, dark and unwelcoming in the late afternoon light. Slave reined his horse in and started looking for a likely place to stay. He was hoping to find a simple shelter, but Keshik of course would be planning on an inn or something similar. A roof over his head would be nice, he had to admit. He had learnt to keep his panic at the openness above him under control, but it always threatened.

  ‘There,’ Keshik said. ‘That looks promising.’

  Slave followed his glance to where an unprepossessing building stood, lights shining from inside, noise of conversation filtering out. He was about to make a comment about what sort of promise it held when the gloomy late afternoon became bright as day with a huge flash of lightning followed scant heartbeats later by an ear-splitting crack of thunder.

  ‘Good,’ Slave agreed.

  The rain started before they dismounted, leaving them soaked to the skin as they pushed open the door. People stopped and looked at them, making Slave intensely ill at ease. He knew Keshik would be reading the looks and making sense of what was being thought, but to him they all just looked unwelcoming and threatening. The blood of too many who had threatened him weighed heavily on his mind. He just wanted to shout at them, ‘Leave me alone, if you have any desire to live!’ but of course he did not do so. He simply lowered his eyes, forced his hand away from his Claw and followed Keshik across the room.

  ‘Visitors,’ the barman said. ‘What do you want?’

  His tone was gruff, but Slave felt he was not unwelcoming, although this was more a rational thought than a sense. It would be stupid for one who made a living from visitors to not welcome such. Slave looked at the man, with his heavy beard, deep-set eyes and scowling face, and wondered what part rational thought played in his life.

  ‘Food, and a room for the night,’ Keshik answered.

  ‘Coin?’

  Keshik pulled out the pouch he had stolen from the Midacean witch and bounced it in his palm. The jingle it gave sounded heavy enough for the barman, who nodded. He gestured towards a table in the far corner.

  ‘Sit down, I’ll have some food sent over.’

  Slave and Keshik did as they were bid, aware of the stares and mutters that followed them. It took all of Slave’s concentration not to reach inside his clothes and pull out the Warrior’s Claw that rested there, awaiting its chance. He knew that once it came out, they would all die.

  Since learning beyond doubt that the berserk fury that came upon him was the ‘blessing’ the Revenant had bestowed, it had been harder to resist. He could dimly remember the times he had slain — without compunction, without mercy — any who stood before him, even the time he had so nearly taken Keshik. They had never spoken of it, but he guessed the swordsman carried clearer memories and would be waiting his time to take vengeance. He was only glad he had told him to flee when the Midacean soldiers had happened upon them.

  The meal when it arrived was hot and welcome: a rich stew of some meat, fresh bread and mugs of local ale. They ate in silence while their clothes started to steam in the heat of the room.

  ‘How much coin do we have?’ Slave asked Keshik.

  Keshik shrugged and dropped the pouch on the table. It spilled open to reveal gold, at least sixty coins. Slave’s eyes widened as he took in the quantity of money. He knew little about the value of things, but this was clearly a great deal. Keshik’s response suggested the same.

  ‘Ice and wind,’ Keshik whispered.

  ‘Put it away,’ Slave said. ‘Before anyone sees it.’ One thing he did know about people was greed, and this much money could lead to violence. Violence which could have only one outcome, and he had enough blood on his hands already. Keshik shoved the coins back into the pouch and tucked it safely away.

  ‘With all that, we should be able to buy some good information and some decent horses,’ Keshik said.

  ‘Decent horses? Is that possible?’

  Keshik grunted. ‘Those nags we have are fit for stewing, but not much else.’

  ‘Maybe we should buy some more and keep ours for when we get hungry again.’

  ‘If that’s a sense of humour, I’m glad I don’t have one.’

  Th
ere was a noise outside — booted feet approaching the door. Slave looked up suddenly. He gripped his Claw and pushed back from the table, ready in case of attack. Keshik saw his movement and copied it.

  The door swung open and three men came in. They were in uniform, and all had a tattoo of a crown high on their left cheeks. Slave recognised the uniforms and the tattoo. From his reaction, so did Keshik.

  ‘What do Agents of the Blindfolded Queen want here?’ the barman called.

  ‘Food and shelter from the storm,’ the lead man said. He was tall and angular with a weather-beaten face. His eyes swept the room with an intensity Slave knew well. Nothing would have escaped that look. Especially not two wet travellers trying to stay hidden in the corner. He gave no sign that he saw anything of interest as he took a seat at the bar.

  The barman put three mugs down and started filling them.

  ‘Any chance of getting paid this time, Tchinwukana?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course — don’t we always pay our way, Seppe?’ Tchinwukana replied.

  ‘No,’ the barman replied sourly. ‘You Agents are renowned for it.’

  ‘Well me and mine do.’ Tchinwukana reached under his belt and pulled out three coins that he dropped onto the bar. They vanished quickly, as if by magic, as the barman scooped them up. When they were gone and his drink half finished, Tchinwukana put down his mug and fixed Seppe with a quizzical look. ‘Any news?’ he asked.

  ‘Just what’s been coming out of the west. Seems like no one can talk about anything else.’