“I agree with you, Colonel,” said the priestess. “These lies must be expose-ed.”
“And second”—I closed my fists—“if they expect a resistance, I say we give them one.”
Sali twisted the lathe’s crank, and a long stretch of bone turned like a cart’s axle. “We must keep up the pressure,” she said. “We need more demonstrations. Thousands of Jebyl and fair-minded Kwuba have to take to the streets. My father can be a reasonable man. When he sees his people speak with a clear voice, he’ll listen.”
“More than that,” I said. “What we really need is your help to organize a militia. A small force can take the Ministry and strip the admiral of his pow—”
I felt a heel on my toes, felt it grind down until my toenails hurt. Sali’s glare was blindingly intense, like a sun had gone supernova behind her eyes. My mouth still hung open, stalled midword. We’d talked about this over lunch, about how we needed to encourage a real resistance. What did she think I meant?
“A militia is totally unnecessary, Drake.” Sali spoke slow, as if she were teaching a child. “You know very well my father is a reasonable man.”
Sali’s heel lifted off of my boot, but she kept pressing with her voice. “We agree-ed on peaceful demonstrations.”
I closed my mouth and damned myself for not seeing it sooner. Since I’d met Sali, she’d spent so much time railing against her father, I’d completely forgotten she still cared for him. Crazy or not, he was the man who raised her, and she was going to give him every last chance to see the error of his ways before resorting to anything so extreme as open rebellion.
I’d do no less for my father.
“Right, Drake?” said Sali. She stared into my eyes, expecting me to agree. I wanted to please her. I really did.
But Pol was right. A militia could distract the admiral’s forces from the Empire’s eventual attack.
I opened my mouth, but Sister Selmira cut me off. “Let me save you before you say something you’ll regret, Colonel. It doesn’t matter what you or Sali think we should do. We shall follow the way of Falal, the way of truth and righteousness. We shall spread the word that our Dearest Mother has been wrongfully imprison-ed. Falal expects nothing less of us. But we will do nothing more.”
“But the Falali church is the only institution on this world with the structure and organization to rival the admiral’s. I wouldn’t ask you to take up arms. I just need somebody to help me recruit and facilitate a proper—”
“Go no further, Colonel. We are simply translators. Our job is to interpret the signs of Falal in all things, water and stone, success and tragedy. We have no interest in power or politics. And we never will.”
A defeated word limped into my mind.
“Very well,” I said to her. “I respect your wishes.”
I looked to Sali, whose betrayed glare hadn’t dimmed.
“Don’t be too hard on him for wanting to organize a militia,” said Sister Selmira. “He’s a warrior, after all. What did the soldier do when his wife hand-ed him an awl and ask-ed him to punch holes in her belt?”
Sali shrugged to say she didn’t know the answer to the riddle.
“He use-ed the awl to mark a bull’s-eye for his gun.”
The muscles in Sali’s face started to loosen. Same for mine. A smile begging to break loose.
Dugu laughed first, his stomach rocking to mirthful joy. Soon the whole room was laughing.
Except for Pol.
CHAPTER 18
“Imagine a dmouse who makes a hoome in a nestof cobras. Now you know the life of an undrecover spy.”
–JAKOB BRYCE
I carved an eye. A circular groove for an iris with a deep hole for the pupil. Finished, I raised the carved cuda to let it swim in the morning sunlight.
It was done.
I could do better, but overall I had to agree. I ran my finger along the cuda’s body to feel the scalloped pattern of scales. Pushing my fingertip into its toothy mouth, I felt the sharp bite.
I hadn’t done any wood carving since I was a teen, but I still had skills. If I hadn’t succumbed to family pressure to join the E3, I would’ve been a good artisan.
I put the carving tools back in their box and closed it. Dropping to my knees, I used my hands to sweep shavings off the balcony. I couldn’t let Sali see. For several days now, I’d risen early to carve before Sali woke.
Much as I wanted to show her this piece of me, the true me, Jakob had to stay hidden. The mission came first.
Today was the day I’d destroy the missile system. Today was the day I guaranteed the Empire’s safe return.
I surveyed the contents of my bag one more time: two large stones, several wriggling glowgrubs, a knife, a coiled kelpstalk rope, and one comm unit just like the one Dugu had been using as a camera. I’d lifted it from the communications room three days earlier.
I pulled an eel-skin bag from my pocket. Made from a moray’s tail, it had a broad opening on one end and tapered to a point on the other. I stuffed the comm unit inside and carefully folded over the wide end, then folded it the opposite way, as if I were making a fan from paper. Eight folds in, I stopped and used my weighted bag to hold it in place.
I stepped to the wall and reached for the closest of several crabs. Damn things were everywhere.
I rubbed my face with my hands. Arguing with Pol could be exasperating. A quick search of the balcony yielded no blue crabs, so I went to the rooftop and trapped three in the flag I usually wore as a scarf. I brought them back down to the balcony and dropped to my hands and knees. Carefully, I held the rear of the first crab’s shell with one hand and directed its left claw with the other. Forcing the pincers around the folded eel skin, I pinched off the leg’s last segment with a twist.
I gave the pincers a gentle tug, and they held firm. All I could do was shake my head. Every day, this world managed to find a way to surprise me.
I attached the crab’s second set of pincers before apologizing to the declawed creature and tossing it to the sea. Two more crabs, two more pairs of pincers, and I had what should be a watertight seal.
I stuffed the comm unit along with my carving tools and bamboo cuda into the bag and stood before lifting the bag over my shoulder. Heading into the bedroom, I found Sali sitting up on the sleeping mat. “Are you going early again?” she asked.
“I fear what Mmirehl might do to the Falali Mother if I’m not there to be the voice of reason.”
She ran her fingers into her unruly hair. “I’ll see you tonight?”
; “Of course.” I tried to smile, but knowing I might never see her again, I only managed a brittle grin.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a little tense.” I went to the stairs, stopped, and took one last look back.
Her eyes were saucers brimming with concern. “Please be careful.” The words drove deep like a dart to the heart. I couldn’t stand the thought of abandoning her. I had to survive the day. Had to.
I took the stairs slow and brushed the front curtain aside to step out. Dugu was there, sitting on the stone with his legs stretched straight out in a V. A little girl sat opposite him, the soles of her feet pressed against his, her legs forming the other half of a four-legged diamond.
Dugu made to stand up, but I stopped him by putting up my hand. “Finish your game first.”
“Thank you, sir. This is Dory, my little sister.”
I crouched low to look her in the eyes. “Very nice to meet you, Dory. How old are you?”
She held up five fingers. Her face was round like Dugu’s, and her eyes were similarly cheery. She didn’t seem to know who I was, her attention already back on trying to toss a seashell into a circle of silk thread resting on the stone.
I stood up straight as Dugu tossed a shell that bounced inside the circle before skipping out to the squealing delight of his sister.
Right. Not productive.
Dory landed a shell in the circle and clapped at her good fortune. It must have been the winning shot since she and Dugu started gathering up the shells and string.
“Ready, sir?”
I nodded. Ready as I’d ever be.
“Dory’s school is on the way to the docks.”
“Very well.”
Dory lifted her arm to hold her brother’s hand, and after a bit of walking, I felt little fingers probing at my palm. Surprised by the unsolicited affection, I took her hand, and the three of us continued as a three-linked chain. Soon I realized the unexpected hand-holding had nothing to do with affection as Dory lifted her feet and expected Dugu and me to swing her. Happy to oblige, we saw to it her feet didn’t touch the ground again until we reached her school.
Finally letting go of our hands, she ran for the door. Dugu stopped her with a loud clearing of the throat, then ducked low to receive a kiss on the cheek before telling her to mind her teacher.
Feeling wistful for nieces and nephews I might never see again, I walked the rest of the way in silence. Same for the boat ride to the Ministry. I watched Dugu much of the time, watched how he seemed to find enjoyment in most everything: the sun on his face, the sea spray in the air, the dance of undulating tentacles in the water.
I envied him, the simplicity of his life. I wished I could see things the way he did. I’d been a clock-puncher once, free of all this duplicity and treachery, but the simple life left me wanting. Somehow I was incapable of finding happiness even when it was all around me.
Instead, here I was on this distant world, walking into the Ministry, shivering as I headed downstairs into the underwater coffin I’d grown to hate.
Dismissing Dugu so he could get some breakfast, I strode through the main dome. Water dripped on my head and shoulders. Puddles splashed under my boots. A sour knot gathered inside my belly. One mistake was all it would take. One mistake, and I’d pay the ultimate price.
I went through tunnel after tunnel, feet moving of their own accord. The baths weren’t much farther. Time for my massage.
Every day for a week, I’d kept the same routine, setting up my alibi with an early-morning massage followed by a nap.
I turned right, my fingers tingling with uneasy energy. I turned again and stopped in my tracks. Mmirehl was there, standing outside his mysterious hatch. The door was open, and a pair of black sashes came from the opposite direction, escorting a short Jebyl man with hands tied before him.
Beleaux.
My breath snagged in my throat like a fishhook. I hadn’t seen Beleaux since the day I rented his boat. The day I killed Kell.
Mmirehl lowered his buzzard head for a beaky look at his catch. “Take him inside.”
Beleaux saw me. His eyes met mine, and my stomach wrenched at the thought he could recognize me.
Me. The man underneath this disguise.
“Bless-ed, Colonel,” called Beleaux. “Please don’t let them take me.”
“You are the champion of Falal!” he called, as they dragged him through the hatch. “You will rescue me!”
I coughed into my hand to cover the fact that I’d been holding my breath. Mmirehl turned to give me one of his steel-eyed grins before disappearing through the hatch. Beleaux’s desperate pleas continued to worm into my ears until the hatch door thankfully shut with a clang.
I didn’t know what to feel. Relief I hadn’t been recognized? Fear that Mmirehl had inexplicably inched closer to discovering me? Concern for Beleaux and the uncertain fate he faced? Guilt for thinking of Beleaux last?
I forced my feet forward. I gave the Falali Mother’s hatch a longing stare as I passed, wishing I could spend the rest of the day in her calming presence.
I felt numb from the hairs on my head all the way down to my toenails.
I entered another corridor and passed another set of guards before turning into the baths. Greeted by a hot cloud of sulfur-scented vapors, I walked across the damp rock floor. To my right, terraced pools of turquoise springwater burbled under bright lights. Like a tiered fountain, frothy overflow cascaded from one tiled travertine to the next. Overhead, a vaulted ceiling came together in a steamy fusion of stone and steel.
The pools were unoccupied except for one. Admiral Dii Mnai sat on the rim with his feet dangling in the water. His skin was slick and shiny from a recent dip. He was naked, knees apart, his stomach covering his private parts effectively as any bathing suit.
I walked alongside a chiseled rock gutter that collected freshwater into tanks. Mnai was flanked by two topless women sitting cross-legged with bowls on their laps. The admiral reached for one of the bowls and selected an exotic fruit I’d never seen before. He took a bite of the round, red fruit and loosed a watery spray. I stepped closer until he spotted me, his smile dripping with juice and self-satisfaction.
“Colonel!” he called, like I was the new arrival at a holiday bash. Behind him rested two wine bottles, one empty and lying on its side.
“Admiral,” I said with a nod. “I trust you are enjoying yourself.”
“The fruit is delicious,” he said with a wink and a vagu
e wave of his hand that left me uncertain whether he was referring to the fruit or the breasts. “We’re winning, you know.”
“Winning what?”
“The battle against the resistance. Captain Mmirehl has made much progress. It won’t be much longer before it’s completely crush-ed. Stability will be restore-ed. Isn’t that what your precious Sire values most?”
“Yes. But he’s not my Sire anymore.”
“No. You betray-ed him, didn’t you?” He wiped the smile from his face. “I’m not fond of traitors, Colonel.” He took a meaty chomp of his fruit as if it were a poor substitute for my hindquarters.
The two women kept smiling, but I could see discomfort in the way their spines had stiffened at his tone. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
The admiral spoke with a full mouth. “I hear you visit the Falali Mother every day. What do you talk about?”
I stifled a relieved sigh. Was that all this was about?
“We talk about life,” I said. “She’s a very wise woman.”
He chewed on his fruit, and—based on his downturned brows and squinting eyes—he appeared to be chewing on my words, too. “Life? What do you mean by that?”
I carefully chose a response. “She coaches me on the ways of Falal.”
“She’s trying to turn you against me, isn’t she?”
“Of course she is,” I said without hesitation. “Did you expect anything else?”
He nodded, wary eyes weighing my words. “I’m glad you can still be honest with me, Colonel. Don’t let that change. You’ve come for one of your massages?”
He knew my routine. I should’ve been elated my alibi was falling into place so nicely, but instead, my insides squirmed with the knowledge he’d been checking up on me. His message was clear: I’m watching you.
“Yes,” I said, forcing a smile. “My back has been bothering me since the cuda attack. The massages seem to help.”
He tossed his half-eaten fruit into one of the bowls and rinsed his fingers in the water. To the women, he said, “I’m done here. Dry me.”
Tides of Maritinia Page 14