“I don’t see how you failed to recognize him,” Father said, interrupting her several minutes after she’d mentioned Rias and had gone on to explain the symbols the marines had given her to translate. Mother gave him a quelling glare. He said, “What? There was a tintype of him in the conference room during the war.”
Dear Akahe, was that right? Tikaya vaguely remembered pictures of Turgonian leaders posted on an “enemies of the islands” wall. Intent on the cryptanalyst work, she’d rarely paid attention to the decor.
“Of me?” Rias asked. “That’s flattering.”
It was the first thing he’d said to the table. Tikaya had a feeling he was trying to fill the silence that had blossomed after her father’s words. Or maybe Rias meant to distract Father from casting judgment upon her.
Father only scowled at him instead. “The high minister enjoyed throwing darts at it while receiving vexing news.”
“Ah,” Rias said. “I hear the Nurian chiefs had a similar practice.” He spoke slowly and took care with his pronunciation, perhaps not wishing to appear unschooled before Tikaya’s family. As if he needed to worry about establishing his education credentials.
“You’re a popular fellow,” Elloil said with a wink, apparently unfazed by Rias’s former occupation. Of course, not much ever fazed Ell.
“At the time we met, I wasn’t,” Rias said. “I’d spent two years in exile on Krychek Island, a—” He looked at Tikaya and asked, “Barren?” in Turgonian. She supplied the Kyattese word, and he continued. “A barren rock in the middle of the ocean. I was living off what… fishes the tides brought in…” He grimaced, fishes apparently not being the exact word he wanted. Doubtlessly he’d had to scrape seaweed and algae off the rocks and scavenge all sorts of dubious foods to make his meals. “And,” he went on, “I was also busy wishing not to be eaten by the more… man-eating—” another glance at Tikaya, and she supplied, “cannibalistic.” “Yes, cannibalistic residents,” Rias said. “I looked like… There weren’t any mirrors, but my own mother would have found it hard to identify me.”
“Cannibals?” Cousin Aeli asked, touching a hand to her always-on-display cleavage. “That must have been dreadful for you.”
“It was an unpleasant experience, yes,” Rias said. “But Tikaya’s story will interest you more, I’m certain.” He nodded toward Tikaya, inviting her to go on.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Aeli purred.
Mother, still walking about and making sure people’s plates were full—even though everyone could reach platters and ladle foods themselves—accidentally smacked Aeli’s hand with her ladle. “Sorry, dear. More poi?” The shrewd squint that accompanied the question suggested the smack hadn’t been so accidental.
At least Mother seemed to be on Tikaya’s side. After nibbling on a couple bites of yam, she continued with the adventure. From the point where she started talking of the corpse-filled outpost of Wolfhump, the craziness that descended upon the marines, and the strange device causing the trouble, the family grew silent. Even the toddlers watched her with wide eyes. Rias listened intently as well, perhaps curious how the whole adventure had played out from her point of view, though she did catch him observing the Nurian guest from time to time too. Was he wondering if these details would make it back to the Nurian government? Tikaya trusted that he wouldn’t attempt to make the foreign neighbor disappear, but she brushed lightly over information on how powerful the ancient technology was, and she said nothing of how it’d come into existence in the first place. She also didn’t go into the details of the language deciphering—as she’d long ago learned, few people in her family shared her philology passion—or of her and Rias’s moments of… relationship advancement, as she decided to think of them. But, seeing the interest from the youngsters, she did her best to relay the monster attacks in a lively manner. Knowing that people might condemn her for turning her back on Parkonis, she explained exactly what had happened with him and what he’d confessed to.
“Iweue will smack that boy on the nose with her fattest book,” Mother said. “She’ll be relieved to have her youngest son back, but, goodness, how could he let his family mourn him? All of us, for that matter. We had his funeral, by Akahe.”
“Just be glad we didn’t have to hold a funeral for Tikaya,” Father said. It was almost a warming sentiment until he added, “Joratt Turgonians.”
Tikaya might correct her little nephew’s use of the derogatory term, but she doubted her father would appreciate chastisements from his daughter. She let Mother scowl at him for her, then went on with her story. Tikaya made sure to mention Gali and her telepathic intrusion. She didn’t know if the woman would dare return to the islands after the oaths she’d stomped all over, but Tikaya did fear that the tide would bring other versions of the adventure up to the beach, and she wanted to lay down the facts first.
She finished by explaining how she and Rias had defeated the emperor’s assassin and the Turgonian plans for withdrawing the weapons, emphasizing how crucial he’d been in her safe return home. She never could have made her way across those frozen mountains on her own.
“Hm,” Father said when she finished. That was all he said.
Tikaya swallowed. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but that wasn’t it. She had the impression he didn’t believe her, or at least only partially believed her. It was, she admitted, a fanciful and unlikely story, but why would she make things up for them? Especially in front of Rias? Or was it because of Rias’s presence that they thought she was making things up? Did they think he was coercing her into telling this story? Why? It hardly slanted the Turgonians at a favorable angle. Though perhaps people were thinking that everything was a ruse to provide a cover story for Rias’s supposed spy mission. Surely, they would have thought up a less imaginative story if they were making something up.
Tikaya removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes.
“It’s good that you’ve made it back to us, dear,” Mother said. Sometime during the narrative, she’d finally sat down. “Why don’t you eat before you faint and fall off your chair again? It doesn’t look like those brutes fed you.”
“I will, Mother.” Tikaya blinked when she noticed how full her plate had grown. How many passes had Mother made, shoveling food on with each round? Some things never changed.
“That was a good story,” Lonaeo said, his green eyes bright. He plucked at Rias’s sleeve. “Do you know any stories?”
“Nobody wants to hear his stories of bloodthirsty conquering,” Father growled.
Lonaeo sank low in his chair.
“Father,” Tikaya said, “he’s not like that.” How could Father truly think that after she’d explained everything? “Talk to him. He’s—”
“We’ve talked enough.” Father pushed his chair back and rose so quickly he almost upended it. “I’ve had enough of being cordial. That man is responsible for many of our cousins’ deaths, and his cursed marines raped and tortured half the men and women who fought to defend our islands. That he has the gall to come here, and that he’s done Akahe knows what to my daughter, is, is— I can’t even find words for this vileness.” Face redder than a sunset, Father stalked out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.
“Who wants rum?” Mother asked into the silence. “Or coffee? We make both here on our land, Mister Rias. Is it all right if I call you that or are you a lord or sir or some such? I do find Turgonia’s rule by aristocracy terribly impractical, but I suppose all peoples must find enlightenment in their own time.”
Tikaya cringed. Only her mother could offer someone a drink and call him a savage in the same breath.
“Just Rias is fine, ma’am,” he said, neglecting to comment on the rest.
“Very good. Everyone, if you’ll have a seat in the living room, I’ll bring drinks and desserts. We have grilled pineapple and caramelized plantains. Jea and Oalaia, come help me serve, please.”
Though Tikaya had not eaten more than a few bites, she was more th
an ready to escape from the table. Rias was rising as well, and she tried to veer toward him, but she found herself waylaid by a handful of nieces and nephews—nephews in particular—wanting more details on the monsters they’d fought in the tunnels. While she was trying to answer questions and simultaneously extricate herself, Elloil led Rias toward a courtyard door. Ell carried a bottle of spiced rum in one hand, and Tikaya worried about what he might have in mind. Getting Rias drunk? Or getting drunk himself? Neither sounded like intelligent propositions.
Before he walked out with Ell, Rias met her eyes across the room, giving her a head tilt that she guessed meant, “I’ll be out here when you can get away.”
Yosis trailed dutifully after him, so Tikaya doubted they’d find a chance for a private chat. The atmosphere in the great room lightened as soon as he left, with voices growing louder and more animated, and laughter punctuating conversations for the first time that evening. It stung Tikaya that Rias’s absence should be so welcomed, but she knew it’d take time before anyone could grow accustomed to him. Nobody had spat in his food or knocked his dish in his lap. Maybe that was a start. Or maybe they just hadn’t dared.
The Nurian and his wife said goodnights to Mother and left, both receiving smiles and nods from her family members. Tikaya would have wagered a lot that if the Turgonians hadn’t tried to take over the Kyatt Islands, the Nurians would have attempted the same move sooner or later. It didn’t seem fair that Rias should receive nothing but hatred while this Mee Nar wandered about on friendly terms with everyone.
Mother shooed the children away, but more people came up to welcome Tikaya home, so several minutes passed before she could escape to the courtyard lanai. She gripped the railing and searched for Rias by the dim lighting of whale oil torches dotting the paths.
The wooden lanai overlooked a garden sheltered on three sides by the wings of the house. The ocean roared in the distance, but not so loudly as to mask the gurgling of a large stone fountain in the center of the courtyard. Tikaya’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she picked out two figures standing near the water feature. No, three. The third lurked in the shadows of a candle bush a few feet from the others, his white robes standing out against the darkness.
“Rias?” Tikaya asked, picking her way down the flagstone steps and along the path.
“You didn’t tell me he doesn’t drink, ’Kaya,” Ell said, his voice drowning out Rias’s quiet, “Yes?”
She joined the two men, pointedly putting her back to Yosis. She hoped the dim lighting would make it hard for him to record notes in his journal. It’d be a shame if someone accidentally kicked the thing into the fountain.
“He’s a wholesome fellow,” Tikaya said, though Rias had shared an apple liquor with her one night during their adventure, so he was no teetotaler. His reluctance to imbibe here was probably due to not wanting to dampen his wits in “enemy territory.” How depressing that he considered her family’s home more of a danger than that frozen fort full of dead people where they’d spent the night.
“Wholesome?” Ell asked. “That’s a word better reserved for vegetables than men. Drink?” He offered Tikaya the bottle. The air smelled of vanilla and the spices in the rum.
“Maybe later. Rias, uhm…” She wasn’t sure what to say. Her apologies were starting to feel painfully redundant to her, but her father and grandfather’s behavior needed some explanation, she felt.
His hand found hers, warm and dry. And reassuring. Until he spoke. “I’m going to head into town shortly. Your cousin has offered suggestions on affordable lodgings.”
“You’re leaving?” Tikaya blurted in Kyattese, then repeated it in Turgonian, realizing he’d spoken in his own tongue.
“It’ll be for the best.”
She could hardly blame him, after the reception he’d received, but if he disappeared, her family wouldn’t have a chance to get to know him. She wouldn’t be able to show them that he wasn’t a monster, that he was a good man. And she wouldn’t be able to slip away for a tryst during the night, to discuss plans or engage in less… vocabulary-driven activities. She rolled her eyes, telling herself that sex was the least important thing to worry about just then. She’d been chaste for nearly a year before meeting him. A few nights alone wouldn’t be that devastating. Except that it’d already been more than a few nights, due to his long shifts in the boiler room…
“I’ll come with you,” Tikaya said, even as she admitted that her brain wasn’t entirely responsible for the words. An image of sharing a rented bungalow on the beach with Rias sounded lovely, though a guilty twinge ran through her at the idea of leaving Mother, in particular, after only a couple of hours back. “Family reunions are more palatable in small doses, after all,” she said by way of justification.
“You should stay with your family. They’ve missed you and would doubtlessly be upset if you chose to leave shortly after arriving.”
“I know, but—”
Rias squeezed her hand. “Also, it hasn’t eluded my notice that people think I’m coercing you somehow and have ulterior reasons for being here.”
“Oh.” Tikaya prodded the base of the fountain with her toe. It shouldn’t surprise her that Rias, despite not being a native speaker, had picked up on the nuances of the conversations going on around him, but it meant she knew what he’d say next.
“It’ll be better if we’re separated for a while, so your family can see that I’m not manipulating you. Others as well.” Rias tilted his head toward Yosis, who hadn’t moved or spoken since she came out. No doubt he hoped they’d forget he was there and let some devious Turgonian secrets slip out.
“Given what my people believe about imperial brainwashing methods, they’ll probably think you can sway me all you like from miles away.”
Rias chuckled softly, though she picked out a sadness underlying it. “Your family, at least, should know you’re too smart for something like that,” he said.
“You’d hope so, but…” Tikaya thought of Parkonis and how quickly he’d accused her of having captive complex. Of course, he’d been hurt that she was choosing Rias over him and had been looking for a justification. That was the problem. In the aftermath of the war, everyone on the island would seek similar justifications. They’d want to believe that all Turgonians were evil. Though a decade or two would dull the wounds, it might be too early to ask anyone to accept Rias as anything other than a savage. “Mother did seem to think you were acceptable,” Tikaya finally said, feeling the silence had grown too long. “At least she made pleased grunts every time she circled the table and saw that you’d cleared your plate and were ready for another serving.”
From his, “Hm,” Tikaya couldn’t tell if he was dismissing Mother as an ally worth having or considering the ways she might help his cause. Since they were observed, she dared not ask about any strategies he might plan to employ. If he was strategizing at all. Maybe he just hoped to bide his time until he could escape.
“Can you understand what they’re talking about?” Ell asked.
It took Tikaya a moment to realize he was addressing Yosis. The professor ignored him. It didn’t seem to bother Ell.
“Because all they’ve done so far is hold hands. Chastely. I’m beginning to fear The Black Scourge of the Seas is wholesome. How disappointing for someone with such a fierce name.”
Since Yosis was facing Ell for the moment, Tikaya took the opportunity to slip her response to Rias’s earlier note into his hand. “Not everyone wants an audience for… intimate activities, Ell. Perhaps you could take the professor out front and give us a moment to say goodbye.”
Ell eyed Yosis, who returned his consideration in a baleful touching-me-would-be-bad-for-your-health way. “I never had much luck getting professors to listen to me,” Ell said and dug his tobacco tin out of his pocket.
“Where are you going to stay?” Tikaya asked Rias as her cousin rolled and lit a cigarette. “I need to visit the Polytechnic tomorrow and get some advice from colleagues on the art
ifacts, chiefly whether we should make them disappear for all eternity or put together a team to study them.” She remembered the request Rias had made in his note, that she figure out why someone might be alarmed at the notion of his submarine, and added, “It’s a good place to do research,” while squeezing his hand.
Rias nodded. “Though I can understand your fascination with the language—and the puzzles intrigued me as well—my vote would be for burying those secrets somewhere. The world isn’t ready for them.”
Yosis moved a couple of steps closer to a torch and tilted his notepad in that direction so he could write. Tikaya curled a lip at him.
“As to my lodgings, your cousin here says the Pragmatic Mate is affordable.”
“And you can get all manner of poki there,” Ell added in Kyattese, making Tikaya wonder how much of their conversation he understood. As far as she knew, he’d failed most of his linguistics classes—all of his classes, in truth—but more from a lack of interest than aptitude, she’d always thought.
“Poki?” Rias asked dubiously.
“Hallucinogenic compounds,” Tikaya said. “But, really, Rias, the Pragmatic Mate? The locals call it the Pernicious Miasma, with good reason, I’m given to understand. The place makes your igloo seem palatial. You must not want me to visit.”
“I’m certain I’ve stayed in worse accommodations. Though it would be a shame if you didn’t visit.”
“You’re lucky I’ve discovered a new adventurous streak. Also, we don’t have to stay there if I visit. Kyatt offers many scenic and private destinations.” Which she’d dearly love to share with him, if they could get rid of—
Forgotten Ages (The Complete Series) Page 44