Struggling to breathe, Allette came awake and nearly choked on a mouthful of tail fur. The weight on her chest was what made her breathing increasingly difficult, and it took her a moment to recover after the cat thrust downward and leaped at something that moved in Allette's periphery, driving all the air from her chest in the process.
"If that cat's just going to sleep on your chest, then maybe you should sleep in the bunk," Thundegar said.
Allette grunted and pushed herself from the hard, stone floor of Thundegar's home. Rastas had already made it clear that the other bunk belonged to him. The cat was a mystery to her. She'd never spent much time around cats, and the creature's behavior baffled her. Why, for instance, would the cat keep her away from the bunk then sleep on her chest? For the moment, she gave up understanding Rastas, who was stalking a small lizard.
Thundegar amazed her. The man claimed no skill in working with wood, but truly he had worked marvels. With very few exceptions, everything in Thundegar's home was alive. Somehow the man had woven trees and plants into a living, breathing structure. Branches held the hammocks, which were supported by a matrix of vines. A similarly constructed chair jutted from one wall, and in front of it was among the only inanimate objects in the dwelling. A rough-edged slab of shale was supported by wooden legs that had obviously been cut, making them stand out in contrast to the living sculpture.
On that slab, which looked heavier than anything Allette could have carried, rested a myriad of implements, tools, and containers, most made of wood. There were a few items, however, that were made of metal, and Allette wondered where Thundegar had gotten them. It didn't seem a very polite question to ask, so she kept it to herself. Beyond the table was the hearth. Made of stones stacked atop one another with layers of what looked like moss and mud in between, it looked sturdy. Nearby rested a stout wooden keg, and atop it was an iron pan. Allette thought she might finally understand the whispering she'd heard in the mists on her first day in the Cloud Forest. Someone in the Heights was helping Thundegar survive.
"You look like you could use something a little more substantial," Thundegar said, and he grabbed a rock that had a soft line of rope tied around it from a nearby shelf woven of wood. Allette had not even noticed that one before. "I'll be back in a little while. Stay in here. I won't be long."
"I don't eat meat," Allette said.
Thundegar raised an eyebrow but just put his rock back. "How about fowl?"
Allette shook her head. "Fish?" she asked sheepishly.
"I'll catch 'em but you have to clean and cook 'em."
"Deal," Allette said.
From a darkened corner, Thundegar pulled a slender but flexible rod and a loop of fine fishing wire. There could be no doubt that Thundegar still had friends. A glimmer of hope bloomed in Allette's heart, and she let the momentary optimism pull her from the comfortable bedding. After what seemed like hours, and despite Thundegar's request, she pulled on her boots and shoved the heavy door aside. Bright sunlight hurt her eyes, but the warmth felt good on her skin.
When her vision adjusted and she could see the world Thundegar had created for himself, she found herself awestruck by the beauty of it. Moss-covered stones lined the inside of the woven barrier of trees, creating a sturdy wall nearly as tall as Allette. At one point there was a break in the bottom of the wall that allowed a small creek to enter the glade. Its base was lined with rounded stones, and the water that flowed was clean and clear. There were some very tiny fish that congregated where the water was deepest, but it would take a lot of those to make a meal.
Growing up the rock wall and the trees above were thorny vines, like the one that had bitten into her abdomen. Alongside the mostly leaf-concealed thorns, bright red blossoms appeared at intervals along the vine. Flying insects and tiny birds created a steady traffic flow to and from those and other flowers. It seemed that Thundegar had found a way to make his security fence also serve as a garden. Fruits, berries, melons, and other presumably edible foliage abounded within the woven trees. For a brief time, Allette's world was free of stress, and she actually smiled when she found huckles growing alongside the thorny vine. Careful not to reinjure herself on the hidden thorns, Allette grabbed a handful of berries. It reminded her of a happier time in her life, a time when she and her father had explored uninhabited islands together, uncovering secrets no one had ever seen before.
Walking back toward the stream, Allette finished her berries and bent down to drink, a small smile on her face. That smile vanished when she saw a pair of amber eyes reflected in the water. Black fur, thick and coarse, surrounded those eyes, and when its long mouth opened, the wolf's white teeth stood out in contrast to black gums.
Her breath caught in her chest. Allette could not move, though she did raise her head to look at the wolf directly. Larger by far than any of the dogs Allette had ever seen, though even those had been few, this beast was sprung straight from a nightmare, and Allette went cold. The wolf moved with the quiet confidence of an experienced killer. Allette would make an easy target, and she had absolutely nothing with which to defend herself. Cursing her own stupidity, she thought back to Thundegar's instruction for her to remain inside and wished she'd obeyed.
* * *
Never in the history of the Heights had so many people been thrown; it was unnatural and only the shadow of fear kept the people from objecting. They knew that speaking out would mean their deaths, unless everyone else spoke out with them. Few, it seemed, were willing to take that risk; instead they watched as people they knew, people they cared about, were cast from the Heights for their alleged crimes. Though Sensi knew the first thing the guilty often did was profess their innocence, the sudden and massive increase in accusations, allegations, and verdicts with the highest penalty stank of corruption.
Sensi had held the figurine, and it had not moved, but he knew that his life was in even greater danger than most because he knew what the lord chancellor was doing. In far too many tales, he'd heard what happened to those who knew everything. Part of what made the lord chancellor's purge of the Heights so difficult to ignore was the social standing of those charged with crimes. These were not peasants or simple merchants; the lord chancellor was culling his competition and rivals, and even some who Sensi had thought were his friends. A dirty business this, and one that might be the end of their grand society. Sensi had known it all along; things had been too easy, too comfortable. Such things never lasted, and he'd always known, deep down, that the harsh realities of life would visit themselves upon him and those around him. It was among the reasons he'd always suffered from nerves and a sensitive stomach. What he would do without his remedies shipped in from the Mids, he didn't know, and he shuddered at the thought.
Looking down at his hands, he could almost see the blood. Though he carried but a list of names, he was a part of this, and part of the guilt was his to bear. Some of the people on that list were going to die, and he knew it, and now he supposed they would know it as well. The people were not fools; they knew what was happening no matter what guise the lord chancellor placed on it. The culling violated one of the key tenants of governing, which was not to turn those you govern against you by disregarding their best interest. How the lord chancellor could be ignorant to the damage he was doing, Sensi did not know, but he knew that he, too, would pay the price. The people would not take their anger out on the lord chancellor alone; history told Sensi that a particularly nasty fate awaited him should the people revolt.
After wiping the sweat from his brow, Sensi looked up to see one of Merini's men. "Summon these people," Sensi said, the wavering of his voice giving away his anxiety despite his greatest efforts. The man did not respond or show respect as he did for Merini or the lord chancellor, but he did, at least, do as he was asked.
The walk back to the lord chancellor's audience chambers did little to ease Sensi's mind. Before he was even back in the great hall, he could hear Onin's voice.
"What's the meaning of this? I've served m
y people, and you have no dominion over me!"
Clearly this was not going to go well. The old guard had always been a problem. They had been loyal to the king, and though the man had dissolved his own monarchy, he had made certain that his guard would remain free men with a status higher than that of even the lord chancellor. It was something that Sensi knew chafed.
"Sir," Merini said, his voice level but laced with malice, "if you'll just follow the protocol, we can all get on with our day. Surely you can't object to--"
"Don't think to tell me what I can and can't object to," Onin said, looking like a relic from the past. He wore layers of pelts and skins, and he kept his long black hair, which was mostly gray, in thick braids with other smaller braids alongside. Large hands were buried in thick leather gloves, and his boots, also of leather and hide and crisscrossed with straps, came up to his knees. "I'll show you what I think of your protocol!"
Stepping into the hall, Sensi bowed to those within. Onin knew him and cast him a disappointed look. Sensi had always tried to protect the old guard, who had saved his parents, but things had changed, and Sensi could no longer offer protection to anyone.
In the end, Merini nodded to his guards, and two strong young men stepped up to Onin, one on each side. The captain of the old guard did not attack or even communicate with these men; he kept his eyes trained on the lord chancellor. One young man grabbed Onin's right arm and forced Onin to extend it. Still the man stared at the lord chancellor. The young man placed the figurine in Onin's hand, but the big man closed his big fist around the object, not allowing the lord chancellor to see if the figurine moved or not, and even more startling, he seemed to be trying to crush the statuette.
The young man now concentrated on trying to get the mysterious object out of Onin's hand, but the big man didn't seem inclined to oblige. After squeezing with all his considerable might, Onin released his grip and let the figurine fall to the polished floor. It fell with a clank but otherwise appeared unharmed.
"I know not what evil this is," Onin said, "but I won't let you soil the land of my father."
The lord chancellor just motioned for his guards to take Onin away.
* * *
Teeth snapped a mere finger's width from Allette's face as a mass of black and brown fur collided with the wolf. Screeching and howling, Rastas climbed onto the wolf's back and raked its eyes. Biting into its neck, Rastas held on until well after the wolf was clear of the glade.
"I thought I told you to stay inside," Thundegar said by way of greeting.
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking," Allette said, but Thundegar just glared at her. "I know. I should've stayed inside."
With a grunt, Thundegar dropped four fish in her lap. It seemed twenty years without human contact had stripped the man of whatever interpersonal skills he may have once possessed. At that moment, though, Allette didn't care. Rastas came bounding back into the glade, and Allette met him with open arms. To her surprise, the cat accepted the hug then bounded off with one of the fish.
One thing Allette wished she still had was a knife, and she wondered how she was going to clean the fish without one. "Do you have a knife?" she asked Thundegar when he came back out of the house.
He walked to where she stood before he answered. "It's sharp," he said. "The handle's a little loose, so be careful. If you only knew what I went through to get that knife."
Allette accepted it with a serious nod. "I understand. I'll be careful."
Thundegar watched her make short work of cleaning the fish. "So you're a fisherman," he said.
"Of sorts," Allette said. "I'm a sailor. Though, sometimes there's little difference."
The two walked back to the house, and Thundegar held the door. Already, the pan rested above the fire, and Thundegar poured a very small amount of oil into it, which soon smoked and popped. A tiny bit of coarse salt and dried herbs and peppers waited on a wooden disk. Allette used these to season the fish under Thundegar's watchful eye.
"I thought there were four fish," he said after a moment.
"There were," Allette said. "Rastas didn't want his cooked."
Thundegar laughed. "He didn't want his first three cooked either." Allette looked surprised at first then cast an accusatory look at the cat, who was now preening in his hammock. "At least he caught the first one himself," Thundegar added.
Cooking without the utensils she was accustomed to took some adjustment, but Thundegar did what he could to help. Still the fish stuck to the pan. Thundegar took two fillets and left the other four for Allette. She finished each in only a few bites, burning the roof of her mouth in her haste. Once the pan cooled, she did what she could to get to the bits still stuck to the pan.
"Wishing you hadn't let that rascal con you out of a fish?"
"It's all right," Allette said. "He earned it."
* * *
Timbers creaked as a still-distant storm drove larger waves into Maiden Harbor, and time was running short. Becker Dan had few options, and all eyes rested on him. "The cap'n should've been back long before now, and I think we all know he ain't comin' today."
A murmur ran through the crew like an ugly undercurrent, one that could pull him under and keep him there. "He ain't comin'," Becker repeated. "I want 'im to just as much as any of you. I'm just being a realist. The slip fees are overdue, we've no more food, and if we stay here, we'll lose the ship. That ain't gonna help the cap'n none. I ain't sayin' we take the ship fer ourselves; I'm just sayin' we should take her off shore, do some fishin', and tie up where we ain't gotta pay."
Another murmur ran through the crew; this one more to Becker's liking, but nothing was certain yet. He'd been on this ship for more than two decades, and he knew this was what the captain would want. Even if his friend was dead, which he suspected, there was the chance his daughter lived, and Becker would do everything within his power to preserve her inheritance. The thoughts nearly brought tears to his eyes, but he would show no weakness before the crew. It was one thing to convince them to take the ship, but it was completely another thing to get them to follow him and continue to be faithful to the rightful captain. He was skating at the edge of mutiny, and he knew it.
"This ship's got history," he continued, "and family, and all of you are part of that family; even those who've not been on the ship all that long are part of that family." There was little response to those words, and they sounded hollow even to Becker. Mate Filps spoke from behind a crowd of men, only his familiar voice letting Becker know who it was. "So we just fish and tie off until the cap'n comes to find us?"
"Yes," Becker said, thankful for Filps.
"And we'll still get paid?" came the voice of one of the newer crew members, who was also concealed behind shipmates.
Filps was a small man and could easily disappear into the crowd, but this man seemed to be hiding toward a purpose. Such cowardice was unbecoming a sailor, and Becker made a mental note to replace the young man, even if it was outside his purview. The circumstances dictated that he take on more power than his position would allow. He'd not declare himself captain of this ship, but he would do what he had to in order to keep her afloat. "If we fish, we can earn money and get paid. It's hard work and we're not set up for large-scale fishing, but it could earn us some coin while we wait for the cap'n to return."
"So let's do what we are set up for, then," Mord said, his deep voice carrying with it the confidence of authority; he'd been on this ship for nearly as long as Becker, though he held the captain in much lower regard. If there was a threat of mutiny, Mord would be at its heart.
"With every operation, we risk losing the ship," Becker said. "That's a risk the cap'n is willing to take but not one that I'm comfortable taking on his behalf."
Mord said no more, but the looks he cast about were cause for concern, and the nods he got in return were even more disconcerting. Becker was amazed at how quickly they could go from a close-knit and functioning crew to the edge of mutiny. If ever there was a time that he'd appreciated t
he captain, now was the time, and he prayed the man would return no matter how unlikely he knew that to be.
Under the orders of her first mate, the Maker's Mark set sail.
* * *
Weaving in and out of the trees, Allette did her best to follow Rastas, but he was too quick; only the fact that he had to stop for frequent breaks allowed her to catch up with the wily beast. Thundegar had sent them out after herbs, which grew in the wild, and Rastas seemed only to want to play. This was Allette's third time away from the glade without Thundegar, and she did not want to disappoint him. Her strength had returned, and now she could be of real use to him. He'd taken care of her, and she felt compelled to repay that debt in one way or another.
A myriad of thoughts bombarded her consciousness, and she walked without really seeing the world around her. She'd found a semblance of happiness here, but she would not be satisfied until she found her way back to the Maker's Mark. She also wanted to know what had happened to her father, but that seemed a far less likely outcome. The men who'd taken her father remained a mystery, but she did know where his cargo had ended up. Though she knew not the figurine's function, the fact that it seemed to have decided her fate gave her no reason to think its purpose noble. It had seemed such an innocent thing the first time she'd seen it, but now she knew that it was much more. One day, she vowed, she would hold that figurine again, no matter what it took. The people of the Heights had taken everything from her, and she would know why.
A gnarled hand reached from the thick growth and wrapped around her wrist, the grip painful. Allette let out a cry and tried to pull away but could not.
"Hold," Thundegar said, and Allette slowly relaxed. "How many times have I told you not to think and walk? Just walk. If you think and walk, you don't heed what your eyes see. What do your eyes see?"
It took Allette a moment to see what he was talking about, but when she did, she was grateful the old man had been there for her. Nearly blending in with the vine around which it was curled, a good sized wood viper watched her from about eye level. Allette might not have walked straight into it, but as Thundegar had told her before, the highly venomous snakes were always prickly and would strike on the slightest provocation.
The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) Page 54