Forgotten Ages (The Complete Series)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “And you think you can turn this scrap into your new… project?” Tikaya figured Yosis knew about the submarine, but was reluctant to mention it out loud regardless.

  “I’ll need to recruit helpers to provide the manpower, but with the use of a shipyard—” he waved at the slender channel next to his dock, “—I’m certain I can build… something. Whether it’ll be quite as ideal as what I drew on paper, that remains to be seen.”

  “That’s not much of a shipyard.”

  “It’s more than I expected. Since your people aren’t as advanced, er, since they don’t build as many ships as my people, I feared the Kyattese version of a shipyard might be a beach with a nice slope.” He mimicked shoving something big into the water.

  “He’s denigrating us?” Yosis asked.

  “If I have the opportunity,” Rias told Tikaya without acknowledging the professor’s comment, “I can have a prototype done in a matter of weeks.”

  Tikaya imagined sitting beside him as he piloted a submarine made from a patchwork of tin cans, old copper pipes, and Mother’s silverware. She tried to remain optimistic, since he was smiling at the idea of his project. “Well, you have one helper already, it seems.”

  “Two.”

  “Oh?”

  “Milvet you met, and your cousin also promised to help.” Rias stopped before the hatch. Water sloshed around below, and Tikaya hoped he wasn’t going to invite her down.

  “Elloil?” she asked. “He’s promised to do manual labor for you?”

  “In exchange for advice on his upcoming surfboard line. Apparently someone suggested my years of engineering, mathematics, and physics studies should be utilized in designing toys for children.” Rias quirked an eyebrow.

  “Actually, surfing is popular amongst all age groups here. There are even a few spry eighty-year-old grannies who take on the North Coast waves. If you designed a superior board, you might win the love of the Kyattese people, causing them to forget your previous misdeeds.”

  Yosis snorted. It was the closest to a human emotion he’d expressed thus far.

  Rias considered Tikaya with a speculative gaze before sighing and saying, “Just to be clear, you are teasing me, right?”

  Tikaya smirked, imagining him rearranging his mental to-do list to place surfboard design above the melting down of scrap for submarine materials. “About the likelihood of people forgetting your misdeeds, yes, but not about the popularity of the sport.”

  “I see.” Rias extended a hand toward the open hatch. “Would you care for the full tour? Yosis has already received it, due to his unwillingness to let me go anywhere alone.”

  Tikaya leaned over to peer through the open hatch. Rusty holes in a bulkhead, some with warped bolts sticking out of them, were all that remained of what must have been a ladder; their tracks descended into murky water that might have been three inches deep—or three feet. She crinkled her nose at the fishy, mildewy scent wafting up from below. “Did he enjoy his tour?”

  “Oh, yes. I believe he was immensely impressed with the craft.”

  Yosis’s second snort contained even more emotion—and volume.

  Tikaya had little interest in going down, but perhaps Rias wanted her to see something, or maybe he thought they could steal a private moment. She kicked off her sandals, hiked her dress up to her thighs, and tied it so it wouldn’t get wet—so long as the water wasn’t more than a foot or two deep. “After you.”

  Rias gave her bared legs an appreciative look and brushed his fingers down her calf as he lowered himself through the hatch. A delightful little shiver ran up her leg, and she thought again how unfortunate it was that he was staying in that lizard-infested closet instead of on her family’s plantation. Maybe she could slip away one night to visit him.

  With the ladder missing, Tikaya braced herself for a plunge into icy water. Rias caught her before her toes splashed down, however, cradling her against his chest. “This way, my lady.”

  Before she could decide whether she wanted to be independent and ask to be let down, he carried her out of the water. The cabin floor tilted as much as the deck above, and about half of the space remained dry, though that hadn’t kept the barnacles, algae, and mildew from making themselves at home on the bulkheads.

  Rias set her down. There weren’t any lanterns, but sunlight seeped through holes that dotted the ceiling like stars on a clear night.

  “If I’d known you intended to carry me to someplace dry,” Tikaya said, “I wouldn’t have taken off my sandals.”

  “Then I would have missed the leg display.” Rias gave her a half smile, though it vanished quickly. He lowered his voice to a murmur and put his back toward the water and the hatch. “Did you get a chance to do any research?”

  “I asked a few questions and tried to visit the Oceanography Wing in the Polytechnic library, but the door was locked with a ‘closed for repairs’ sign on it. I thought that quite unusual.”

  “Unusual as in worth breaking into on the sly because the information housed within might be relevant to one’s current predicament?” Rias asked.

  A soft splash behind them announced Yosis’s presence. Not certain if he’d been there long enough to hear anything, Tikaya said, “Probably not. Besides it’s not as if I’m the type of girl who partakes in midnight breakings-and-enterings. I have enough trouble to deal with right now.”

  “I understand.” An apologetic grimace flattened Rias’s lips.

  Tikaya winced. She’d meant to hint that he could meet her at the library at midnight if he could sneak away, not to imply that he was the cause of her trouble. She’d talked him into coming to the islands, after all.

  By that point, Yosis was staring at them, and she couldn’t bring herself to clarify in front of an audience.

  “The engine room is this way,” Rias said, breaking the silence.

  “Is there anything in there worth salvaging for the new engine?”

  “No, I’ll be designing that from scratch. It’ll need to be extremely compact and efficient.” Rias ducked a drooping ceiling beam and slipped into a cubby full of machinery that hadn’t run in years. Maybe decades. “I will soon need to know specifications of, ah…” He glanced over Tikaya’s shoulder, noted Yosis gamely tagging along, and shrugged and said. “Do you have any suggestions on who might be able to help me with a power source? I’ll need the energy statistics soon.”

  “I can only think of two Makers who specialize in energy sources for powering engines.”

  “Does either of them owe you favors?”

  “Not exactly.” Tikaya grimaced. “One is Parkonis’s mother. She’s retired now and only teaches a few hours a week, but she used to be one of the best Makers on the island.”

  “Your ex-fiancé’s mother? I can’t imagine she’d care to do either of us a favor. Who’s our other choice?”

  Tikaya’s grimace deepened. “My grandfather.”

  “Ah. So, if either of these options agreed to take on the task, I’d have to worry about them building something that would blow up at an inopportune moment, thus ensuring my death.”

  “If it helps, I think they’d both simply refuse to help. Neither has a long history of murdering foreigners.”

  Rias arched an eyebrow. Nobody was appreciating her attempts at humor that day.

  “I’ll ask around,” Tikaya said. “Let me worry about that.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Yosis said, shaking his hand. Apparently he’d been writing so quickly his fingers were cramping. “You don’t seriously believe anyone is going to let you build a spy submarine from within our harbor, do you?”

  “A spy submarine?” Rias asked. “No, but wouldn’t your people appreciate one designed to aid in underwater exploration and salvage missions?”

  “Not by you.”

  “Who better?” Tikaya asked. “Turgonian engineering is superior to ours, everyone admits that, and wouldn’t you rather have him building a submarine for our use rather than for the empire’s?”


  Yosis responded with a glare.

  “If it turns out well,” Tikaya said, “he can make more and sell them here on the islands. I’m sure the maritime archaeology department would love one. Lots of people would. They might prove more popular than surfboards.” She smiled, meaning the last part as a joke, and thinking it might draw an amused response from their stodgy watchdog.

  “He won’t be here long enough for that.” Yosis stalked out of the room, banging his elbow on a warped flywheel on the way past. He cursed in several languages. Unfortunately his curses didn’t fade in a way that would mean he’d left the area. No, he would continue to spy on them from the corridor.

  “Help me out,” Rias murmured. “Was that a death threat or a deportation threat?”

  “Rias, nobody’s going to try to kill you here.”

  “I’d rather face a duel, or even an assassin, than someone who makes threats from the shadows and lights a woman’s lawn on fire.”

  Tikaya searched his face, trying to decide if his words implied he’d been threatened by more than words burned into the grass. Some anonymous enemy that he couldn’t strike? Even if he could identify those lurking in the shadows, would he attack? He might fear the image he’d present to her people if he did so.

  “Do you get to face assassins?” Tikaya asked, hoping he’d prefer levity to grimness. “I thought they plied their trade from behind.”

  “You just have to practice turning around very quickly.” If he meant that as a joke, his face didn’t lighten to show it.

  Tikaya followed him out of the engine room, sad that her visit seemed to have stolen his good humor rather than improving it.

  CHAPTER 7

  Tikaya’s stomach rumbled, eager for lunch, as she bicycled up to the front lanai. She eyed the blackened pieces of earth on the lawn—the fires had burned down in such a manner that the letters were still visible. She’d have to throw some compost out and smother the area with seeds. At least in their sunny climate, it wouldn’t take long for something to grow out of the charred earth.

  An unfamiliar bicycle leaned against the lanai railing. Tikaya hoped it was some innocent visitor, meeting with one of her family members, but an uneasy twinge poked her in the gut. She had a feeling it had to do with her.

  She headed for the door, but a low, “Ho, Coz,” made her pause on the threshold. Elloil sat in one of the chairs at the end of the lanai. “You missed lunch.”

  “I’ve had a busy morning.” Tikaya reached for the knob.

  “Parkonis didn’t.”

  Her hand froze. “What?”

  “He didn’t miss lunch.”

  Tikaya glanced at the bicycle. Yes, it’d be a good match for someone of Parkonis’s height. “Is he still in there?” It’d be cowardly to hide outside instead of going in to see him, but the temptation came to her nonetheless. “Did he seem… well?” The emperor’s assassin might have kept his word to Rias and seen Parkonis returned to Kyatt, but there was no guarantee the time her ex-fiancé had spent with the Turgonians had been pleasant, especially considering he’d been working with those who’d launched an attack on the capital and had tried to thwart the marine sortie into the tunnels.

  “He looked all right, though he had a fancy tale to share. It doesn’t quite match up with the one you told.”

  “I’m not surprised. From what he admitted to me, and what I saw, the truth didn’t flatter him.”

  “He was still spinning his truth when I came out for a smoke. There was a lot of I-knew-its and nodding from your brother, cousins, and father.”

  Tikaya groaned. Of course everyone would believe her lying ex-fiancé instead of her. Under normal circumstances, that might not have been the case, but they all wanted to believe Rias was the enemy. “Not you?” she asked.

  “Nah, Parkonis called my surf shop a quaint hobby the first time he came to dinner. We’re practically mortal enemies.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “I don’t think he even remembers my name.” Ell stirred in the shadows. “He’s talking to your mother one-on-one now. You might want to interrupt.”

  Tikaya must have been speaking in Turgonian too much of late, for a handful of curses involving Parkonis’s dead ancestors and the smelters he could slag himself in tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. She was glad Yosis wasn’t around with his notepad.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Tikaya said and turned the knob.

  A few voices drifted in from an open door at the back of the great hall, but they sounded young. Guessing Mother would be spearheading kitchen cleanup, Tikaya headed in that direction. A familiar masculine voice drifted out through the swinging door. Her mother responded. Tikaya meant to walk directly in and confront Parkonis, but she caught herself stopping and pressing an ear to the door.

  “Of course he’s acting polite and pleasant,” Parkonis said. “He wouldn’t come in here being abrasive and self-absorbed. He’s a genius.”

  “Most of the geniuses I’ve met are on the self-absorbed and abrasive side, dear.”

  Tikaya held back a snort. She wasn’t sure if Mother was poking arrows at Parkonis specifically, or simply referring to the entire body of colleagues Tikaya had brought by the house over the years. Either way, she didn’t sound ready to turn on Rias. Good.

  “If that’s true, then the fact that he’s not should worry you,” Parkonis said. “He’s a mastermind and a manipulator of people—just look what he’s done to Tikaya. He convinced her to turn her back on me and to bring him here, so he can do Akahe knows what. If the Turgonians get a toehold here today, it could mean the downfall of our people tomorrow. You have to talk to Tikaya. She’s blinded by her infatuation and can’t see that he’s fooling her.”

  Even if Parkonis wasn’t succeeding in winning over Mother, Tikaya figured it was time to enter and put an end to the conversation. When she pushed open the door, she imagined herself striding into the kitchen, thrusting a finger at Parkonis’s nose, and telling him that his opinions weren’t appreciated, but her hip caught on the corner of the counter on her way in, and she stumbled into his back.

  “Ooph,” Parkonis said, staggering forward and catching himself on the pastry table.

  “Afternoon, dear,” Mother said without commenting on the clumsy entrance. She stood over the sink, washing plates, but she turned off the water and wiped her hands on a rooster apron, complete with a fringe of feathers. One of Tikaya’s nieces had decorated it, thus ensuring it would be in use for ages, however questionable the fashion statement. “Are you hungry?” Mother asked. “I’ve saved you a plate.”

  “Thank you,” Tikaya murmured, though food was the last thing on her mind.

  Parkonis had righted himself and turned to face her. He’d cut his unruly red-blond curls and shaved the beard since last she’d seen him. She didn’t see any scars, bruises, or missing limbs that would suggest he’d been treated poorly of late. Her first instinct was to snap at him for coming here while she was gone—had he waited until she left that morning to approach the family?—and spreading lies, but she’d probably give him less ammunition if she acted like the bigger person. That should be doable. Even barefoot, she had three inches on him.

  “Good afternoon, Parkonis.” Tikaya clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m pleased to see you’re well. I’ve been worried about you. After that chaos there at the end, I wasn’t sure if… I was afraid that you wouldn’t make it out.” Her words were true, though she had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that he never would have been in danger if he hadn’t gone off with relic raiders in the first place.

  “I barely escaped,” Parkonis said. “They dumped me, Gali, and the rest of the survivors in the brig of their warship, taking us south to the Turgonian mainland, to be dealt with—that’s what they called it—for our crimes against the empire. As if they’re not the savages. Those bloodthirsty mongrels deserve to receive that which they’ve given over the years.” He started to curl his lip, but seemed to remember so
mething, for his eyes widened and he glanced behind Tikaya. “Is he here?”

  She took that to mean he wouldn’t call Rias a savage to his face. “No.” She supposed she shouldn’t be pleased that the story meant Gali wouldn’t likely be by to pester her soon. For all she knew, the Turgonians would “deal with” their prisoner using a firing squad, and she couldn’t wish that fate on anyone. “How did you escape?”

  “That stone-faced teenaged assassin sailed down the coast with us and was in charge of prisoners. He was taking people off the ship, moving them to the train station for a ride to the capital for I shudder to think what punishment, but he got careless. He forgot he’d unlocked my cell, and when he herded off the others, I slipped out. It was night and most of the crew was off on shore leave by then, and I got away. I’ve been thanking Akahe every day for that bit of luck.”

  “You can thank Rias for that luck,” Tikaya blurted before she could question the wisdom of it. Bringing up his name might be a mistake—defending him at every turn would only give credence to people’s notions that he controlled her somehow, but she couldn’t let Parkonis remain unaware of his assistance, not the way she feared her president was. Why should Rias be blamed for every death in the war and receive none of the credit for the lives he’d saved?

  “Pardon?” Parkonis glanced at Mother, as if to catch her eye and give her a knowing nod, but she had her back to them. She’d been washing the same pot for five minutes, but she acted like she wasn’t listening.

  “At the end of the ruckus, Rias told the assassin to relay the message that if the emperor didn’t leave me and my family alone, he’d make trouble. He also asked the boy to ensure you were able to make it home.”

  Parkonis opened his mouth as if he wanted to protest outright, but he glanced at Mother’s back and seemed to decide on another tactic. “Well. If that’s what you saw, that’s what you saw, but is it possible that he made a point of having this conversation in front of you? Thus to win your favor?”

  “He’d already won it by then. He didn’t need to play tricks.”