Curt Benjamin - [Seven Brothers 03] - The Gates of Heaven

by Curt Benjamin

  “Some fates are worse even than the end of all creation.” Marmer Sea Dragon went very quiet all of a sudden and Llesho figured he’d said more than he was supposed to. Something to do with worse choices.

  Then he knew, and oh, by the Goddess, he was too tired to consider it, but he’d figured it wrong all along. He had assumed that the demon laying siege to the gates of heaven would raise the terrible firestorms in Lluka’s dreams, the chaos that ended all the worlds of men and heaven and the underworld. But what if that weren’t so?

  What if the gods and spirits had determined to bring an end to all of creation rather than allow the demon to enter the gardens of heaven? He had to figure that the powers of the universe knew as well as he, or Lluka, what awaited the execution of their plan. What could be so much worse than what they themselves intended? And what would they do to him if they realized he knew?

  Llesho decided then and there he didn’t want to find out. He thought he was safe for the moment, but the discussion left him feeling like a dragon snack.

  “We need to get back to the ship.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  MARMER SEA Dragon vented a puff of warm air and salty water through the cavern where Llesho lay in boneless weariness. “Tell ChiChu, if you please, that I’ll be around,” he requested politely. Then he added the assurance, “I don’t forget my promises, especially not to her.”

  “Tell him?” Llesho groaned. “You’re not going back?” That meant another run for the dream world. Only he didn’t think he could make it. Exhaustion seemed to be leaking from Llesho’s marrow into the seaweed bed he lay upon, taking muscle and sinew with it, and leaving him no more strength than a fading corpse.

  He ached when he considered even standing on his own. The thought of focusing his mind and his legs on the skills Bolghai had taught him left him stunned, as though he’d taken a blow to the head. Since they’d been exploring the matter of choices anyway, Llesho admitted that he seemed to have none here either. So he rolled to his side and pressed his hands beneath him to push himself up.

  A gentle breeze drifted through the cavern as the dragon-king sighed through his broad dragon snout. “Lie down, boy.” The sonorous voice gently soothed like a lullaby. “Remember, you had lessons in dream travel at Ahkenbad before you ever set foot in the grasslands.”

  In a cavern very like the one in which he now lay, Llesho had traveled in dreams to the gardens of heaven and back. He’d thought it a natural formation of rock carved into the shape of a dragon’s head when he’d first seen the abode of the dream readers. Then Master Markko attacked and the Stone River Dragon woke up.

  “Most people sleep and then dream,” the dragon-king gently reminded him. “I think you can spare the time to do it the old-fashioned way.”

  “Tayy . . .” Llesho started to object, but the dragon shushed him with a soothing hoo-humm through the cavern.

  “There is little you can do without a rescue ship,” Marmer Sea Dragon pointed out. “Your Captain Kaydu must see to the storm damage her vessel has taken before she can come to your Harnish prince’s rescue.

  “I don’t think Tayy has that much time.” Hope had give the prince renewed strength, but Llesho knew that wouldn’t last long with the galley receiving such a beating from the sea. He had to get back, if only to reassure the prince that help was coming.

  The dragon-king dismissed his concern with a whuffling breath that nearly flung Llesho into the sea. “ChiChu has a use for him yet, I reckon. He may not be comfortable or happy, but he’ll stay alive as long as the old trickster wears the red-and-yellow pantaloons.”

  The dragon’s voice eased its way into his thoughts. As a pirate captain, Master Den could see to Prince Tayy’s safety until help arrived. He had to believe Shou was right about Master Den’s intention—a lesson, an adventure, but not murder. It made sense, just like sleeping did. The seaweed bed held him like a soft nest and he was so tired. Llesho felt his eyelids grow heavier still. Suggestion drew him further into the leaden drowsiness that called him to sleep. He found it impossible to resist the low rumble vibrating through the bony cavern where he lay.

  “Master Markko!” The thought set his heart to drumming as if he’d suddenly fallen from a great height. His eyes popped open. “I have to find him.”

  “Gone for now, driven on the same winds as all the ships before that storm.” The dragon-king answered in the low thrumming tones that were doing awful things to Llesho’s concentration. “Leave that fight for when you have a hope of winning it.”

  Which was good advice. Llesho didn’t stand a chance against an angry sparrow in his present state. The magician should be in no better state, though he’d never lacked for allies. What creatures had the magician gathered around him? What powers might they bring against Llesho’s own followers? He didn’t ask the questions out loud, but he’d forgotten that the speaking part didn’t matter with dragons.

  “Few,” the dragon soothed, reading his mind as his kind did when a human being rested in the crystal cave between their horns. “Fewer still serve the magician by choice.”

  Which was meant to reassure him, Llesho supposed, though it reminded him not only of Marmer Sea Dragon’s power but also of the bargain he’d made. His help in exchange for Pig’s continued bondage. How free were the allegiances of his own company, which included a cadre formed in slavery and allies who bargained for the lives of their families?

  “It’s not the same.” But there was doubt in the mind that sought to reassure him.

  “I know.” Llesho did know. He just wasn’t sure the difference mattered. In the long run, he and Master Markko both used blackmail to get what they wanted. The difference was the magician held out the threat of death as a punishment for opposing him and Llesho held out the hope of life for those who helped him.

  Bitter laughter hummed quietly in the cavern. Llesho got the point. Given a choice, he’d picked life as well. It was a good thought to fall asleep on, so he did.

  He expected uneasy dreams to carry him back to the galley immediately. Like Stone River Dragon at Ahkenbad, however, Marmer Sea Dragon had the power to give him dreamless sleep and then to calm his travels in the other realm. It seemed like only a passing reverie at the edge of consciousness that brought him to wake in the well of his rowing bench. As awareness came back to him, he realized that his exhaustion had passed, leaving behind the groggi ness that follows a deep sleep. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten there but figured as dreams went, this one, in which he felt comfortable and rested, was better than most.

  The heat of Great Sun fell on his eyelids but he wasn’t ready yet to admit he was awake. Hoping to delay the inevitable questions, he kept his eyes closed and listened to the activity around him. Nearby, he heard Tayy speaking to someone in hushed but determined tones. “He’s to sleep until he wakes, and I’m to watch over him. Captain’s orders.”

  “And what’s a six-penny slave to do with the trickster god and patron of all pirates, when this ship needs all hands ashore?”

  That was Moll, and Llesho was curious about what Tayy would answer.

  Master Den, however, intervened. “He’s a special project of mine who fell into your hands through a combination of bad timing and worse judgment,” the trickster god said. Llesho had a suspicion that his teacher knew he was awake and was using the opportunity to chastise his pupil under cover of the explanation. He was fair enough to add, “Still, it all worked out in the end. Or it will.”

  “What end?” Moll had a querulous tongue that grew sharp when others might withdraw into caution. She turned it on the trickster god now. “TheShark is beached well off her heading and you’ve pulled two able-bodied young slaves off water duty. We’ve a far way to go before we can call this voyage ended—their hands would see us on our way that much sooner.”

  “TheShark ’s tale has a good way to run yet,” Master Den answered agreeably. “But this is where our young princes part company with it. They have their own tale to spin, and
it leads them away from here on their own path. Or it will do as soon as yon laggard greets the morning.”

  “Princes? Hah! Every slave’s a prince stolen from his cradle or robbed of his birthright by a sinister uncle. If we start bowing to every scrap with a story, we’ll have no time left for rowing at all!”

  “My uncle is not sinister!” Tayy objected. “And he’s robbed me of nothing. The clans elected him fairly because they chose his wisdom over my youth. To gain some wisdom for myself, I’m on a quest.”

  “Bah! Quest indeed!”

  Moll raised her voice in derision, but Tayy held to his position, admitting only in the spirit of full honesty, “Well, it’s Llesho’s quest, really, but I am determined to help him gain his throne back and repay the debt of honor the Qubal clan owes his line. And so I will guard his life or his sleep, as Master Den says.”

  “Fine words for a fine fool,” Moll grumbled.

  “But true,” Master Den assured her and laughed. “And a fine job you’re doing, too.”

  Llesho could hear the sound of a hand slapped companionably on a back. The grunt that followed was definitely Tayy losing his breath to the trickster’s exuberant approval. It was time to wake up, before anyone said anything else about him. He had a report to give as well, he figured, and though he wasn’t up to dream traveling to Durnhag quite yet, Master Den would do in a pinch. He figured Habiba would tell her ladyship what had happened, but he needed the reassurance of his teacher that he hadn’t messed up along the way.

  As he’d guessed from the heat beating on his eyelids, Great Sun shone brightly, chasing his pale brothers through a clear blue sky. Sitting up, Llesho stared stupidly around him, trying to get his bearings. As Moll had complained, the ship had backed itself onto the strand with its bow facing out into the flat blue water of a sheltered lagoon. Low hills covered in dense green growth surrounded them, blocking the wind and gentling the tides.

  He licked his lips, realizing he was parched and sore from the sea salt that had dried on his wounds. They wouldn’t fester that way—salt cured more than barrel-pork—but he could have used some of Carina’s salve right about then. Looking around, however, he felt a more pressing need for answers than for physical comforts.

  “Where are we?” was the first question that came to mind, though perhaps not the most important he could have asked. As it was, Moll seemed unwilling to provide an answer anyway.

  “That’s for us pirates to know, and no business of yours,” she answered him warily. “You cost me six copper pieces,” she added for effect. “I suppose, if you’re a prince, you’ll be worth more than that in ransom.”

  “Probably not.” If they were speaking plain truth, Llesho had to admit that she’d paid too much and wasn’t likely to get even that back for his hide. When it came to money, he had none. “My country is in the hands of the raiders from the South,” he explained, careful not to insult Tayy by damning all Harnishmen for what he now knew to be the work of the southern clans.

  “What’s this, then?” Alph, who seemed to be Moll’s partner in matters of the galley slaves, had worked his way to the forward bench where the current conversation was taking place. He carried a short whip, flexing the long thin handle in an unspoken warning. Overhearing Llesho’s words, however, his mouth pinched in around the idea of ransom while his eyes widened round as gold coins.

  “Two worthless princes littering our decks,” Moll filled him in, but a sly smile had creased his slippery features.

  “This one isn’t worth a silver penny to the Thebins.” Alph had heard some of their conversation and he nudged Llesho in the chest with the handle of his whip. “But the Southerners would likely pay a good bit to get their hands on him.”

  “They didn’t place much value on me when they sold me to work in the pearl beds in my seventh summer,” Llesho pointed out.

  The wily pirate burped, which seemed as much opinion about the young slave’s worth as it was indigestion. At the mention of pearl beds, however, Moll brightened.

  “And might you remember where to find those pearl beds now, young apprentice?” The pirate flung her arm companionably around Llesho’s shoulder, leaving him in no doubt about the trade in which Moll considered apprenticing him. Pearls were worth more than most of the plunder they could gain by boarding the trading vessels that plied the Marmer Sea. If you had someone who knew where to find them, and if that someone had the skills to raid the beds.

  “Pearl Bay,” he told her, and because he knew that answer would mean nothing here at the other end of the world, he described its whereabouts: “Pearl Island lies off Farshore Province, on the other side of the empire of Shan.”

  “You’ve been to Durnhag, then?” Alph seemed to measure his answers for a lie. Durnhag, the capital city of Guynm Province, was the most southerly inland trade city of the empire. It seemed unlikely that he would know his geography beyond that point. Even Durnhag must be a place out of tales for the rovers of the Marmer Sea. With the trickster god at his side, it seemed a good time to strike a little wonder into the pirate’s heart.

  “I have,” he therefore answered. “Once by caravan, and several times again in dream travel to the governor’s palace.” He did not say that the emperor himself now took up residence in that palace. Shou’s business was his own, and didn’t bear discussing in the open.

  Alph seemed on the point of dismissing this for a tale constructed out of wishes to buy a moment free of the lash, when Llesho offered a detail out of his memory of that recent occasion: “The floors are made of colored bits of glass that glitter like many-colored jewels in the sunlight falling from the windows high overhead.”

  “So I heard once from a lady who had visited that court in her travels.” Something about the way he said it discouraged asking what had happened to the lady in question. But the pirate’s eyes widened as he realized Llesho had indeed seen the inside of Durnhag Palace.

  “As far south as we are from Durnhag, that is as far south as Durnhag is from Pearl Island. I’m on a quest set me by the Lady SienMa, mortal goddess of war, and the ghost of my own adviser, Lleck, to free Thebin and defeat the demon that lays siege to the gates of heaven.”

  “Such a quest requires money,” Alph poked at Llesho’s hip as if he might have a purse hidden there, which he knew was impossible. He’d been searched before boarding theGuiding Star, and had dropped his drawers to do his business over the side like the rest of them. If he didn’t get the pirate off the idea that Llesho must have some source of income on his person, however, he was likely to discover the pearls of the Great Goddess that now hung around his neck.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Giving a falsely casual shrug as if it meant nothing to him, Llesho brushed the lash away and launched into the relevant conclusion of his tale:

  “When I have needed the aid of troops, armies have been given to me. Emperors and khans have counted me a guest in their palaces of stone and felt. But I haven’t seen any money since I left Pearl Bay.”

  For some reason, while this answer seemed only to confirm something that Alph had been thinking on his own, it outraged his consort, Moll. “You’ve come all the way from the other side of the world with not a penny in your pocket?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “And that fellow who sold you into my care for six copper pieces—he was no outraged farmer but a companion pulling a con to finance your quest?” she continued.

  “Not exactly.” Llesho refused to feel guilty for the deception. They were pirates, after all, and did what they accused him of on a regular basis. He still wanted it clear that his plan had called for nothing so like their own tactics.

  “Kaydu, our captain, sold our horses at auction for the funds to buy passage on a ship. We made up the story about Stipes and a farmwife to get me close to Prince Tayy so I could rescue him.”

  “So you mean to abscond not only with your own person, for which I paid hard-earned money, but with this wretched excuse for an oarsman as well!” Moll cu
ffed Tayy on the back of his head, but neither he nor Llesho made a move to protest. They still hoped the trickster god’s presence meant they would escape their current situation without bloodshed. Especially their own.

  Master Den said nothing, though he watched this give and take as avidly as the pirates themselves. Tayy did the same while Singer listened with his head studiously turned forward, trying his best—with little success—to look smaller than Llesho. Doubtless, he wished to avoid the scrutiny of these powers who argued around him. His ploy didn’t work, however.

  “And you!” Moll cuffed Singer as well. “I suppose you have been plotting with these destitute princes to rob me of my honestly acquired property?”

  “I knew nothing,” Singer protested, “until the dragon appeared to take the young king off to herd the storm.” He glanced up at the sky, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe the clean-scrubbed blue above him.

  This came as further news to Moll, however, whose eyes opened wide with suspicion. “Dragons!” she complained, anger pinching her eyes into slits. “Dragons and princes and storms turned aside by magic! That’s what comes of allowing the trickster god on your decks! You’ve cost me enough this trip, Master ChiChu; you can find your own way home from here!”

  “If it weren’t for Marmer Sea Dragon, and for the young kingling, come to think of it, you’d be having this conversation with the fish and not breathing on dry land!” Master Den seemed to grow even larger, puffed up in his most offended dignity. “Who do you think turned the storm?”

  “I reckon there’d have been smooth sailing if I’d left the lot of you where I found you,” she threw the answer over her shoulder, having dismissed them from her mind with a toss of her scarf-wrapped head.

  “Does that mean we can go?” Tayy asked in a small voice from where he huddled in the well between the benches.