Starwatch

by Ian Blackport

  “I doubt you did.” Chaereas wrapped bony fingers around one tarnished bar and glared at the panicked boy. “Thanks to your deception, I now only have one subject for experimentation. One to unlock all the myriad mysteries of life. I plan to learn much from you.”

  *

  23 Nashrenir

  Cyriana lifted a goblet, eyeing those who shared the chamber with her. Friends, one and all. “I’m not usually one to give credit where credit’s due, but I wouldn’t be standing here today without this crew.”

  “She’s reciting poetry for us.”

  “Shut up, Thorkell. It was an unintentional slip. Won’t happen again.” She cast a friendly sideward glower at him. “Cheers to disobeying orders and rescuing my sorry arse anyways. I’ve never been so pleased to have no one take me seriously. It’s a pleasant feeling.”

  “We did consider cutting our losses and ditching the city without you,” Maylene claimed. “But you were our only chance of being paid.”

  “That warms my heart. And yet you’re all still here with me, even though what I paid was a pittance compared to what was promised. That’s love, I think.”

  “Enough of this mushy garbage,” moaned Thorkell. “Can we move to bidding a fond farewell and hurry along? Some of us have places to be.”

  Cyriana smirked and raised her cup in his direction. “Then enjoy my parting gift. I release you from service. You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, however grudgingly, and I’ll admit it was halfway satisfactory. The threat of blackmail no longer hangs over your inexplicably small head.”

  “I’ll breathe easier from this day forevermore.”

  “And look.” Cyriana fished a folded envelope from her pocket and dangled it over a flickering candle. Hungry flames leapt onto parchment and clawed higher until scorched slivers fluttered to the table surface. “The note spoiling your con is no more.”

  He shifted his gaze to encompass darkened ash encircling the candle. “You actually wrote a letter to coerce good behavior from me.”

  “Of course I did. You shouldn’t be surprised to learn I don’t make idle threats. But for what it’s worth, I might have felt the tiniest twinge of emotion approaching remorse if you’d made me send it. I may have even sniffled.”

  “Liar.”

  Baskaran finished his drink and set the goblet down. “I believe the time has come for me to depart. Despite the pleasant amenities offered at this, our third and final inn. Though don’t think my haste is indicative of an eagerness to be rid of you all.”

  “Never crossed my mind.” Cyriana took his hand in hers and shook. “Thanks for joining us on this venture. Sorry we almost got you killed on several occasions.”

  “Think nothing of it. Avoiding death is my chosen vocation, you’ll recall. My daily chances for dying were much the same before we met.”

  “Just so long as I didn’t ask you to step outside your comfort zone.”

  “Planning to jump back into the dueling rings?” inquired Thorkell.

  Baskaran finished tightening a belt looped around his waist and frowned. “Fighting on behalf of spoiled nobles has lost its appeal. I’m toying with the idea of perhaps working for myself. I don’t know what form it may take in practice, but I hope to find the answer back home.”

  “You aren’t concerned how high tensions are among Eurus and Shodo Hai? Gossiping Asdori believe the states will be at war soon enough.”

  “Tensions are always high between the two nations,” Baskaran replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Folks have claimed for years the islands will go to war with one another. I’ve grown numb listening to the rumors. It’ll never happen.”

  Thorkell raised his groomed eyebrows and smirked. “Care to lay down odds? I see nothing inherently wrong with earning money off strangers’ suffering.”

  “You’re keen to profit from my countrymen’s misery?”

  “Touchy subject?”

  “I don’t imagine I’ll miss you,” Baskaran declared, though a hint of humor shone in his eyes. He flung a haversack over one shoulder and nodded to Cyriana. “This experience has been…ambivalent.”

  “Don’t hold back on your praise,” she said.

  “Risks to myself notwithstanding, I enjoyed our time together. I don’t know if I’d ever wish to do it again, but eventually I’ll look back fondly on this adventure. Give me a few years.”

  “We might all need the time,” Zalla affirmed.

  Baskaran tucked one thumb into his belt, offered a final smile and left the chamber. Thorkell purred his contentment while he sipped wine and faced Zalla. “What about you, my dear? Where might you find yourself in a month’s time?”

  She pursed her lips and lifted both shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know what I was doing in Soroth. Just living day to day, I guess. I’m not sure I want to do that anymore. Some days I didn’t eat much, and I never knew when I’d earn money. Too often I didn’t.” Zalla looked hopefully toward Thorkell. “Maybe I can come with you.”

  “Are you certain that you wish to?”

  “I think I am. Where are you traveling?”

  Cyriana glanced sideward at the con man. “Returning to Ercora if I know him.”

  He nodded and withdrew gloves stuffed into his belt. “On a ship leaving tomorrow morning, if it can be arranged. Einar Milard has been gone too long I fear.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll smooth things over with a few well chosen words and embellished smirks.”

  “As do I. But a false-facer must always worry and second guess choices.”

  “Before you leave I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, Thorkell.”

  “Excuse me, I didn’t catch that.” He cupped one hand over an ear. “What were those words?”

  “You heard me fine and I’m not repeating myself,” Cyriana answered wearing a scowl. “But I’m the reason you’re here rather than hobnobbing with the elite and ingesting mulled wine. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you weren’t hurt because of me, fulfilling a role in this insane scheme I dared to craft.”

  “A mature admission. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” Thorkell grinned and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for saying it anyways. You’ll be pleased to hear I don’t bear you any ill will for yanking me away from my con. If nothing else, this venture has proven amusing and presented a challenge I’ll remember fondly. Might I inquire where you plan to travel?”

  “I don’t know. Destiran’s pets might be dead, but he’ll find new scoundrels to hunt me down. The bounty on my head isn’t going anywhere. I suppose I should play it safe and leave Asdor entirely. Who knows, maybe I’ll even wend my way home. Haven’t set foot in Prydin’s Domain for too many years.”

  “Give my regards to Aelina if you happen upon her.”

  “Count on it.”

  Thorkell grasped her hand and presented the rarest gift in his arsenal: a genuine smile. It was oddly disarming, though she would never admit such a thing to the man. “Until we meet again, Cyriana Faesen.”

  “Travel safe, old friend. Charm a fortune from those rich fops.”

  “I always do.”

  “So can I come with you?” Zalla asked. “At least until I figure out what I want to do.”

  “Of course you may,” replied Thorkell. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I travel in comfort, unlike that prude Cyriana.”

  “Wise arse,” Cyriana murmured. “After all the food I bought for you.”

  Zalla turned and flung slender arms around Cyriana, holding her in a fierce embrace. “I wouldn’t be alive without you. I know I’ve said that before, but I wanted to thank you one final time.”

  Cyriana returned the hug and struggled to remember the last instance when someone had shown her affection. Pain burned through her wounded torso, though she fought against the urge to grimace and ruin Zalla’s touching gesture. “And I would’ve bled out on a lonely street were it not for you. Remember, you’re far stronger and more capable than you know.”

  “I
’ll never forget you, Cyriana.”

  “I don’t think you could even if you wanted to.”

  She released her squeeze and smiled. “Goodbye.”

  Cyriana folded arms atop her chest and watched the false-facer stroll from sight through the entry with his affable companion. Sweat blossomed on her forehead from the ordeal, easily wiped away with one palm. Maylene ambled alongside her, eyed the empty hallway and grinned.

  “Despite all the odds stacked against us, we’re inexplicably still alive. An unexpected, though appealing, outcome.”

  “Told you we’d survive this job,” Cyriana remarked. “Why you have little faith in my word confounds me.”

  “It was a close one that I don’t care to ever repeat.” Maylene mussed sweaty black hair with a hand and scowled at one entangled strand. “Where to now?”

  “One last chore before we can leave Arroyo.”

  “I wondered if you’d remember. Though I’m not certain she’ll be keen to see us after the way we parted. Or if she’s even still in the city.”

  “Nonsense.” Cyriana snuffed the candle between thumb and forefinger. “Who doesn’t love money?”

  “You might cultivate this dangerous mystique, but you’d be in real danger if folks ever learned about the sentimentality you try to hide deep down.”

  Cyriana brushed her off with a snort. “I’m not sentimental. But a promise is a promise.”

  *

  Kimiko perched on a rock outcropping, staring down at the dirt pathway and kicking one small stone between her boots. Cyriana felt a twinge of sympathy stir within her chest at the sight of this saddened young girl. Thran and Aeyir were cocksure, bumbling twits spoonfed in the lap of luxury since birth and unwilling to change. They deserved whatever beatings and imprisonment came following apprehension. Their kind dominated the world, keeping others oppressed for their own benefit. The same could not be said for Kimiko. All evidence indicated she believed in helping people less fortunate, in bettering the lives of those around her, even if it meant struggling to achieve her wishes. Though willing to use Kimiko for their own ends, Cyriana and Maylene had not meant to ruin her life. An unfortunate outcome they should have done more to prevent.

  Gravel crunched underfoot as Maylene approached. “We weren’t sure you’d still be in Arroyo.”

  “I couldn’t leave yet,” Kimiko answered.

  “Don’t wait long,” advised Cyriana. “Take it from me, spurned folks go from victims to aggressors in short order.”

  “I don’t intend to.” She glanced toward churning waters spread beyond the hilltop, washing against a deserted shoreline below. “I’m crossing Halfmoon Bay this evening on a ship.”

  “Have a destination in mind?” Maylene inquired.

  “Not that I’ll tell you.”

  “You’re learning. Don’t share with anyone where you plan to settle. Strangers and friends alike will betray you in a heartbeat for a couple coins. Only way to remain safe is to keep others ignorant. Damn shame you needed to learn the lesson at this age.”

  “I didn’t have to,” Kimiko uttered.

  “That choice was yours, girlie. I could’ve ended your troubles with a single swipe and kept you enrolled.”

  She lifted blue eyes awash in pain from the ground. Youthful eyes that should have been brimming with joy and promise, yet instead seemed far older than her age. These eyes belonged to a cynic finished with life, and the realization hurt Cyriana to glimpse.

  “The second time we met,” Kimiko said, “you claimed you hadn’t taken a life while on the job. Was that a lie to keep me placid?”

  “No,” responded Maylene. “I’ve never killed while thieving, and my streak continues thanks to your decision.”

  “But you were honestly willing to murder that man.”

  “Eventually we all change and do things we’d sworn against. That would’ve been your moment if you’d wanted to remain at the academy.”

  “It wouldn’t be worth it. Not someone’s life. I’d never forget the price another person paid for me to stay.”

  “You really are a kind person,” Maylene said. “I hope that kindness doesn’t get you killed one day.”

  “Wouldn’t matter if it did.”

  “A shame the way things turned out,” added Cyriana.

  Kimiko stood and shrugged, keeping all emotion from showing on her face. “My decision, my burden.”

  “A more mature response than we’re likely to earn from most adults we have the misfortune of working with.” Cyriana withdrew a modest coin purse from her belt. “It isn’t what we promised you, since we’ve had problems collecting what we were owed, too. But it’s enough to help you start another life somewhere. Make a new set of choices you can be happy with.”

  “My friend told me something similar.”

  “Then you should listen to her.”

  “I should’ve done that much earlier.” Kimiko slipped the pouch into a pocket and turned to leave without another word.

  “Think she’ll make it on her own?” Cyriana inquired.

  “Girl’s been hardened by her experience, and is far more intelligent than the folks she’s likely to meet.” Maylene eyed Kimiko as she disappeared amid trees. “I’d say that bodes well for her chances.”

  Cyriana watched two parakeets flit overhead and alight on a branch. “Back to Asdor City?”

  “For now. Though truthfully the city bores me these days. I might head farther inland to the old border regions and stir up some trouble. Asdori are morbidly dull.”

  “Except when they’re trying to duel you.”

  “I’d stab the duelist while his back is turned. I see no reason to indulge in their honor.”

  “You leaving Asdor wouldn’t have something to do with the Draugans I said might be hunting me, would it?”

  “Maybe a little. I did honestly consider departing the country not long ago. The vengeful agents debacle is an extra shove to the backside.”

  “It’s been a pleasure working with you once again.”

  “Pleasure might be a strong term,” Maylene cautioned. “You didn’t revel in the joys of Arroyo’s sewage tunnels. But dull moments are infrequent when you’re involved. And that counts for something, or so I’ve heard.” She turned away from the trail and glanced at Cyriana. “How’s the ol’ stomach treating you?”

  “Hurts still. Not much less than before, though breathing isn’t painful at least. Plus it stopped bleeding.”

  “You’ll be okay on your lonesome?”

  “I’ll manage.” She batted aside black bangs, wondering how long it might be until the sea snail crap finally faded. “This is where we travel our separate paths, I suppose.”

  “You have a way of reappearing when folks think they’re rid of you. Some find it maddening, but I think it’s halfway endearing. I don’t doubt you’ll show your face again when I least suspect.”

  “Then I’ll eagerly anticipate that day. Whenever it might be.” Cyriana shifted her boots atop loose pebbles. “Fare you well, Maylene. Stay safe.”

  “You too. Try not to piss off crime lords for a while.”

  “No promises.”

  Maylene tapped one finger against her forehead in a friendly salute and departed, passing from sight along the pathway. Bending to the ground, Cyriana snagged a stone with one hand and closed her palm on its smooth surface. She flung it toward the calm bay, watching a lone rock soar over grass, detritus and sand before splashing into blue waves. Ripples stirred where it had entered the water, yet placid surfs bore no other memories of its passage. Alone and forgotten, the stone drifted to an uncertain future.

  Cyriana turned her back on the sea, returning to a life little different. Gray clouds formed behind her, veiling the sun and stretching shadows over empty pathways.

  * * *

  Backlash

  Chapter 1

  Mottled chains rattled atop bare wrists and ankles as Cyriana’s boots scuffed stone. A coarse fabric hood rustled against her face and in the
blackness she stumbled over a protrusion. Palms caught limp arms and lugged her farther, halting to close a groaning entry.

  One gauntleted hand yanked cloth from her head and Cyriana squinted hazy eyes beneath glaring torchlight. Dull orange reflected off Draugan soldiers sheathed in iron armor. Mildew caked an arched corridor tunnelling through bedrock and braced with wooden struts. A shove on her back ushered Cyriana into a lurching gait over floor dampened by moisture. One legionary grasped an arm to either side, dragging her along at an ungainly trot. Swaying cheek guards creaked from a helm worn by the woman on her left. Cyriana noted pink smears tracing over a pale nose upward through one eyebrow.

  “Nice scar you have, ma’am. I reckon there’s a tale waiting to be told regarding that wound. Care to enlighten me?”

  A hoarse mumble greeted her inquiry.

  “Taciturn, are you?” questioned Cyriana. “Aren’t army grunts supposed to be the Empire’s representatives for the common citizen? Might be wise learning how to converse with another person. Beyond grumbles and scowls, I mean.” She cocked her head sideward at the male. “Help me out, friend. You’re evidently the loquacious one in this gloomy pairing. Must be a chore getting three words from her.”

  Predictably, the man offered nothing in response. With yet another attempt at dialogue thwarted, Cyriana moaned. “I would’ve expected you warmongering imperialists to be more boastful. Or at least less boring.”

  Stoic legionaries ushered her to an unassuming doorway at passageway’s end. Cranking it ajar, she stepped over the threshold. An austere room awaited, furnished with one solitary table and two chairs. Torches bracketed to rutted walls cast wavering illumination. Escorts thrust Cyriana into one chair, pinching flesh on her wrists beneath the shackles and eliciting a wince. An army officer stood opposite the table, his segmented armor polished though no less functional than a common soldier. Draugan legions did not tolerate filigreed, ornamental armor.