Decrypted (Encrypted #2)

by Lindsay Buroker

  Tikaya leaned back in her chair. It sounded like the president wanted something physical that could be used to, essentially, blackmail Rias if he decided to wander off without following through on his promises.

  “Were he married to a citizen and living on the islands, with a passel of children perhaps…” The president spread a palm toward the ceiling. “Many would see this as a sign that he’d be unlikely to betray us…or simply forget us, and return to the empire at some future point.”

  Rias’s eyebrow twitched, and Tikaya guessed he might be thinking something like, “Oh, sure, now you want me to stay on your island.” All he said was, “While it is my desire that this might come to pass in time, Ms. Komitopis has not given me an answer to what was not a particularly well-timed proposition. Apparently music and candles are preferred to…”

  “Explosives detonating outside the window?” Tikaya suggested.

  “Indeed.”

  Tikaya was about to tell him that she’d happily accept his proposition, for reasons that had nothing to do with an interracial marriage being convenient for the president, but Rias spoke first. “I am, however, a man of my word, Mr. President, as you can verify if you ask any of my old comrades or enemies. It sounds like Ms. Komitopis has delivered my offer. I stand behind it.”

  “I believe you to be an honorable man, Admiral, which is probably why—” he gave the high ministers a frank look, “—so many outer island problems have come up to delay my return to the capital since your arrival. But you have no old comrades or enemies here to vouch for you. I must consider this carefully before deciding. What you ask… could be the undoing of our entire nation.” The president pushed his chair back. “We shall reconvene after I’ve contemplated this offer thoroughly.”

  “Mr. President,” Tikaya said.

  Rias touched her wrist and shook his head.

  Tikaya hesitated, not certain if he knew what she had in mind, to tell everyone that she wished to accept his proposal. In case he did, she only said, “He does have an enemy here. Didn’t you meet Mee Nar when you toured the submarine?”

  Half-standing, half-sitting, the president frowned and looked back and forth between them. “No.”

  “He hid,” Rias said dryly.

  Uh oh. Tikaya had thought it’d be an innocuous question.

  “I believe he still hopes he may continue on with his current job,” Rias said, “something that might not happen if he enters the president’s awareness.”

  “Mee Nar,” the president said, as if trying to dredge the details of a familiar name from memory. “Is this the Nurian spy who lives near the Komitopis plantation?”

  Tikaya almost laughed. How long had the government known of Mee Nar’s secret occupation? Rias didn’t seem surprised. Spying upon spies was probably commonplace in the empire.

  “Yes, sir,” Tikaya said.

  “If he’ll… come out of hiding, I will speak with him.” The president rose from his chair. “My officers, come with me please.”

  “Shall we leave a guard for them?” Jikaymar asked.

  The president considered the bank of windows overlooking the sea—the side of Rias’s submarine was just visible outside—then eyed Tikaya and Rias in turn. “I think not.” He walked out the door.

  Tosii frowned at his back, but followed after with the others. Tikaya scratched her head. Was he offering them a chance to escape if they wished it? Or leaving them with the possibility of escape to see if they could be trusted by not taking it?

  “As much as I’d love for you to accept my marriage offer,” Rias said, pulling her attention away from the windows, “I don’t want it to be out of some political motivation.”

  “It wouldn’t be. I would have said yes already if people hadn’t been hurling explosives at us. And if the submarine hadn’t sprung a leak. And if you hadn’t turned annoyingly secretive over that chest.” Reminded of the chest, Tikaya added, “Care to tell me what’s in it yet?”

  Rias glanced at the door. “Not yet.”

  “And you don’t care to accept my marriage-proposal acceptance, either?”

  Rias smiled sadly. “Not like this.”

  “Marriage proposals don’t have to be perfect, you know. My first one involved drinking and vomiting.”

  “On your part or his?” Rias asked.

  “His. I understand he was nervous so he fortified himself beforehand.”

  “And you accepted anyway?

  “Yes.”

  “Even with—was the vomiting a part of the evening or did it come the morning after?”

  “Let’s just say that I retired that pair of shoes after that dinner,” Tikaya said.

  “Given these revelations, I’m feeling even more stung that you hesitated at my offer.”

  “Only because of extenuating events.” Tikaya grasped his hand. “You don’t have to tell the president, but I accept now.”

  “No vomiting required?”

  “None at all.”

  “I always suspected that scrub-brush-headed boy lacked class,” Rias said.

  “His name is Parkonis.” It was the first time Tikaya could remember him insulting anyone, and she didn’t believe for a second that he’d forgotten Parkonis’s name. She supposed she could forgive him the flaw; after all, she’d have less than savory things to say about his former wife if she ever strolled onto the waterfront. Still, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “How much class did you display when proposing to your first wife?”

  “Well. I didn’t vomit.”

  “But you drank?”

  “Copious amounts. Any man will tell you that legions of enemy troops are less intimidating to face than a woman.” Rias leaned closer and smiled. “In the empire, kissing is customary to seal a marriage proposal.”

  Tikaya returned his smile, taking a moment to admire his strong jaw, the old scars that somehow added to his handsomeness instead of detracting from it, and those dark brown eyes with their flecks of gold—and mostly the way those eyes gazed back at her with love. The proposal might not have gone quite how she’d imagined, but he was here and he’d denied any interest in returning to Turgonia. “An imperial custom that doesn’t involve bloodshed?”

  “Yes, it’s one of two or three that fall into that category.” Rias leaned closer, his lips parted, his—

  The door opened.

  Rias drew away, and Tikaya sighed. All the mischievous sprites on the island were conspiring to keep them apart. This time, only Tosii, the president, and Mee Nar entered the room.

  “We accept the premise of your proposal,” the president said as soon as everyone sat down, “but require modification of the final details.”

  “Such as?” Rias asked.

  “We need time to prepare before this information is released into the world. These submarines, for example, must be built, and we’ll need to increase our readiness in military matters. We’ll also need to see that you’re still around and committed to the continuing safety of the Kyatt Islands, or at least some of its residents.”

  The president glanced at Tikaya, and she remembered his comment about a passel of children. Though she was getting all that she’d wanted—a place for Rias on her island and a chance to have a life, even a family, with him—this new twist did disturb her, the suggestion that their choices going forward might not be entirely a matter of free will. Rias’s profile was toward her, and she watched him, wondering if had similar thoughts.

  “In theory, a time delay would not matter to me,” Rias said, “but as long as I am the only Turgonian with this knowledge, I will be a target for your people.” The president shook his head and opened his mouth, but Rias interrupted him. “You can attempt to promise me otherwise, but it’s clear that you don’t have full control over all of your people. Even those you work closely with. Also, you are an elected official whose term is up in two years. There is no guarantee you will be reelected for another term.”

  “I understand your objections,” the president said, “and have antic
ipated them. I propose that you send the information to one or more trusted colleagues or family members you have in the empire, with instructions not to open the sealed information for a certain period of time. Upon the date specified, your acquaintance would be free to deliver the message to your emperor. I suppose it’s too much to hope that he won’t be reelected for a second term.” The corner of the president’s mouth twitched.

  The negotiations had been flowing along in Kyattese, and, thus far, Rias had seemed to follow every word, but at this joke, he gave Tikaya a curious translate-please look.

  “I believe the president is hoping your emperor might be somehow replaced in the near future. Lifelong reigns are tedious for those who don’t care for a particular ruler.”

  “Ah.” Rias faced the president again. “Assassinations aren’t terribly common in Turgonia. It’s considered a cowardly way to get rid of a man, though I suppose you could hope for him to fall in a war.”

  “Or trip and hit his head in the bathtub,” Tosii muttered to herself. “Fatally.”

  “The emperor is fairly young,” Rias said, “and his heir is only a year old, so you’ll pardon me if I don’t share your hope for his demise. His passing would cause internal strife, and my people would only lose in that matter.”

  “But the rest of the world would enjoy peace while it lasted,” the president said.

  “Or take advantage of the turmoil,” Rias said. “If I were to agree to write the letters you suggested, what do-not-open-until date would you require?”

  The president straightened, a back-to-business firmness steeling his jaw. “You can pick the exact date, but we want twenty years.”

  “Twenty years?” Tikaya asked at the same time as Rias and in the same startled tone.

  The president frowned at her. Right, she was probably supposed to be on the Kyattese side of the negotiations. He was probably asking for a high number, so he could afford to settle at a lower one.

  “Too long,” Rias said. “I’m not a young man and the trusted confidants that come to mind were my superiors when I was coming up through the ranks. I shouldn’t wish them to pass on before they can deliver the letters.”

  “You are welcome to send the news to more than one person. I am the one taking the largest risk here.” The president spread his arms, palms up. “I have only your word that you’ll send the letters with instructions for a post-dated delivery, and I can only hope that the people you choose will deserve your trust and not open the envelopes prematurely. I would… not be able to live with myself if the decisions I made today resulted in imperial warships filling the harbor before the year was out.”

  “Five years,” Rias said. “That is enough time to build the submarines that have been promised.”

  “Fifteen years. Our volcanoes don’t ooze metal ore. We must import the raw materials and we’ll need to upgrade our manufacturing facilities. Military issues aside, we’ll want to build larger underwater boats than the one you’ve shown me, thus to house teams of scientists on extended voyages. There are a great number wrecks in the world, and this offers a fascinating opportunity for exploration and study.”

  Though Tikaya knew he was bargaining for more time, she smiled at the way the president’s eyes lit up as he spoke of exploration. He’d been a history professor at the Polytechnic before running for political office, and he doubtlessly did find the idea of undersea research intriguing.

  “All you wish can be done in five years, but I’ll agree to ten if you accept that I will not divulge the names or locations of the persons I’ll entrust with these letters. Though I find the idea of a Kyattese assassin unlikely, I would not wish to tempt anyone.”

  “I will agree to these terms so long as you show me the content of the letters before you send them.”

  It sounded like a formality. For whatever reason, he seemed inclined to trust Rias. Perhaps, down in the Freedom, they’d discussed the imperial assassin that had once tried to find passage to the president’s doorstep via Rias’s flagship. Or perhaps the president had already known about that. Rias had once said he’d sent a message of warning, though who knew if letters from enemy admirals were placed on the president’s desk?

  “I accept.” Rias stood and lifted a hand.

  The president nodded solemnly at him. “I suggest, then, that we leave these waters to the surfers. We can formalize the agreement tonight after dinner. My staff will prepare a hearty sampling of local dishes, certain to satisfy even a Turgonian appetite.”

  Hand still poised in the air, Rias gave Tikaya another questioning look. Recalling that Turgonians often sealed deals orally, with nothing more than a hand clasp, she said, “Papers will be written up, and both parties will have to sign them. There’ll be multiple papers with multiple pages that require multiple signatures. Make sure to eat up at dinner. You’ll need your strength to get through it.”

  Rias lowered his hand. “I see.”

  The president gave Tikaya a wry look, but made a gesture of dismissal for everyone. He escorted Tikaya and Rias to the railing where the Freedom was tied. Mee Nar waited nearby, having apparently been, as Tikaya suggested, consulted in regard to Rias’s character. Speaking of wry expressions…

  “Coming?” Rias asked him.

  “I’ve had enough of that deathtrap.” Mee Nar waved a dismissive hand. “The captain of this ship has offered me a ride back to the harbor. Where I should apparently start looking for a new job.”

  Tikaya paused. “You’ll stay here even with everybody knowing about…?”

  Mee Nar twitched a shoulder. “I’ve grown somewhat fond of my wife. And the weather is most agreeable.”

  “See?” Rias nudged Tikaya. “Your climate is more of a draw than you realize.”

  “Apparently so.”

  Tikaya caught sight of Yosis glowering from the deck of the other ship, but nobody objected when she and Rias climbed down onto the hull of the submarine. He untied the line docking them to the larger craft, and they dropped into the interior. Despite the peaceful conclusion to the negotiations, Tikaya’s shoulders didn’t lose their tense hunch until Rias sat in his chair at the navigation console and began pulling the Freedom away from the Perch—and the vessel with those explosives.

  She sank down in the seat beside Rias. “I’m glad we were able to reach an arrangement that didn’t involve bloodshed. Though I’m sorry you were, ah, I hope you won’t feel unpleasantly pressured over the president’s suggestion of marriage and, er, passels of children.”

  Rias rotated toward her in his seat, a serene expression on his face.

  “Personally, I find big families overrated,” Tikaya said. “I should think two children would be a nice, manageable number, but only if you have notions of fatherhood.” It would be difficult to stomach if he didn’t, but they’d never spoken of it. Rather, they’d spoken of going off in the submarine and exploring together. That might prove difficult with babes along.

  Rias was still facing her, his expression calm, almost bland. Or maybe… expectant?

  “What?” Tikaya asked.

  He smiled slightly. Waiting.

  Erg, was she supposed to be figuring something out? Oh, had he…? Tikaya squinted at him. “You didn’t by chance manipulate the president into thinking he wants you to have a tie to the islands, did you?”

  Finally, Rias chuckled. “Your people haven’t been that welcoming thus far. I thought it might take something on the order of a presidential mandate to gain me acceptance, or at least the right to walk and breathe without fruit being pelted at me.” He touched his jaw, and Tikaya feared that had actually happened.

  “So, when we were arguing about marriage… Were you really arguing with me or was that for show?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured about that, but, yes, I did assume we were being monitored when we were alone in there. One way or another.”

  Tikaya leaned back in her seat. “Huh.”

  “I hope that vague grunt denotes approval.”
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  “It does. And also that I was thinking that if our children are as sly as you, they’re going to be challenging to raise.”

  “Perhaps you and my mother can exchange letters,” Rias said, facing the controls again.

  “I wonder if she’d send advice, or warnings.” She waved to a lever he was gripping. “Back to the harbor?”

  “Hm. Not quite yet, I think.” Rias nudged a control. The lighting dimmed as the submarine dipped below the surface, and water covered the porthole. He took them down ten feet or so, then leveled the craft.

  “Don’t you need to find a safe harbor for conducting repairs?”

  “Yes, but I had something else in mind first.” Rias draped his arm over the back of his chair. “This is the first time we’ve been alone together, somewhere that nobody can interrupt us.”

  “Oh?” Tikaya bit back a smile and strove for an expression of innocence instead. “Did you have… something in mind?”

  “Yes, my lady.” Rias surged to his feet and swooped her up into his arms. “I did.”

  “You did? Whatever is it? I require details.” Tikaya looped her arms around his neck.

  Rias ducked and slid sideways through the hatchway so her legs wouldn’t bump the frame. “It’s been irking me to no end that my helper is the only one who’s entertained a woman on my bed.” He ducked through a second hatchway, this time into the sleeping cabin.

  “That does seem terribly unfair.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” He bent his head and kissed her jaw, then her neck.

  Tikaya would have happily given into the delightful sensations and crawled into the bed with him, but she caught sight of that chest. It sat in the corner by the door, grime still crusted to the outside, though enough had been cleared away from the lid area to reveal handsome hand-carved stone features. “Rias. You still haven’t told me what was actually in there.”

  “Hm?” he asked, lips moving down to her collarbone. He set her on the bed.