In her youth, Rema had never experienced a sea voyage. She had spent her life traveling across Amantis’s famed expanses, and her feet had been trained for sand and stone, not hardened wood. The ocean had proven a cruel revelation. On her first journey as a junior diplomat, headed to the silk-trade city of Molon, she had failed to keep a single meal in her stomach, and the sailors had laughed about her all the way back to port.
Now, of course, she was as tough as any sea-dog. It had been a fortnight since the coast of Danosha had vanished from sight, and her spirits remained high. As a rule, she never wore her uniform when at sea, preferring loose garments—pantaloons, harem garb, anything that might allow the cool breeze to rest between the fabric and her slender body.
She stood on deck, her hands placed upon the sun-warmed timber of a wooden rail. The great waters around her reflected the glare of the afternoon sun, but the limitless clasp of sea and sky was nonetheless beautiful to behold.
A measured step rang out against the planks. Rema knew without turning that it would be her princess-prisoner; the sailors thudded and clattered, Muhan always walked while humming, and Bannon—well, that creature crept without sound.
“I hate the smell of the sea,” said Elise in Annari. She spoke the language imperfectly, but Rema had impressed upon her the need to polish it. “That briny odor. And the sailors are always bringing those awful nets of fish up from the deeps.”
“They’re merely ensuring that we don’t go hungry.”
“Speak for yourself. With that stink on everything, I can’t eat a bite.” Elise stood beside Rema and squinted at the horizon. “Have you seen any porpoises today?”
Elise’s fickleness was an endless source of amusement to Rema and Muhan both. Seagulls she loathed, sailors she barely tolerated and the captain she thought one of the most abominable people alive. On the first day aboard, he had scolded her for carrying about in skimpy dresses, and she had stridently denounced him as a hypocrite, given that most of his crew worked shirtless. In her fury, she had forced him up against the mast, insulting him while Rema drew upon all her diplomatic reserves not to laugh.
Porpoises, however, she seemed quite fond of. “I saw two yesterday,” Elise said, shading her eyes. “And Muhan tells me he spotted another. He says if I’m vigilant and fortunate, I may someday see a white one.”
“Sailors do tell tales of white porpoises. Though they can never seem to decide whether they’re an ill omen or an augur of good fortune.”
“I’m certain it’s neither. They’re simply beautiful.”
“I suppose you should know, being a sorceress.”
Elise laughed. “Actually, none of my books say a word about porpoises. Apparently wizards pay them very little attention.”
As Elise continued her hunt for porpoises, Rema covertly appreciated Elise’s choice of dress: a red garment slit on either side to the upper thigh, baring Elise’s legs and concealing only her essential modesties. Its low bodice exposed her shoulders and her cleavage, which was a particular source of anxiety to the captain, who believed such an ample bosom posed a risk to his crew. That may or may not have been true, but it was certainly dangerous for Rema.
A sailor stumbled onto deck, and Rema quickly returned her attention to the waves. The seaman crouched, bent his muscular back and began to scrub the tributes of the gulls from the planks. If the crew suspected Rema of paying more attention to Elise than was proper, they gave no indication of it. Muhan, on the other hand, seemed to notice every covert glance, and each time he responded with a low, chiding sound intended only for her ears.
Time to find a new diversion. “How are you this afternoon?” said Rema to the sailor.
“As cheerful as a man can be wrist-deep in birdshit.” The sailor dipped a cloth in a bucket. “I’ll be happier when evening comes. I’ve got a plan to conquer that friend of yours.”
“Oh?” Rema didn’t have to ask who he meant. Muhan had proven a sensation among the crew from the moment he had walked aboard, slapped the mast and declared this to be the finest ship he had ever had the privilege of standing upon. He had further won their admiration through juggling shows, acts of conjuring and his enthusiastic participation in the difficult labor that operated the ship. His chief claim to fame, however, had been his wrestling.
“Aye, it’s a fact. You see, I’ve noted he favors his left side. True, he sometimes conceals this weakness by favoring his right instead, but I think I’ve him figured nonetheless.”
“So the prize is as good as yours?”
“Just you watch, my lady. He’ll hit the deck in under a minute.”
It seemed unlikely. After Muhan had issued his challenge to the crew—that if they could pin him to deck, they would have all the wealth he had accrued in Danosha—there had been no shortage of contenders, yet even the immense first mate had proven incapable of moving the dye merchant from his feet. Because Muhan cannily asked each sailor to stake a few coins before each match, he had only increased the riches on offer, which made the prospect of battle all the more enticing. It was the kind of bold scheme Rema’s mother would have admired.
Rema gestured toward Elise, whose face was sulky as she scoured the waves for her beloved porpoises. “Perhaps you should ask Elise for a token of favor.”
“The captain’s forbidden us to talk to the princess.” The sailor sighed as he plunged the cloth back into the bucket. “But if you’d like to arrange something on my behalf…”
“Believe me, I’m in no position to share any luck. I need all that I have.” Rema nodded. “I’d best not occupy more of your time. Good day, sailor.”
She rejoined Elise, who seemed irritated by the break in conversation. “Why must you avoid me?” she said. “It’s me who should enjoy your talk, not these sweaty brutes.”
“I’m not avoiding you, Elsie. I’m simply trying not to consume your time.”
Elise’s lips moved in the flirtatious, mischievous smile that Rema had come to dread. “I wish you would consume me. I think about it night and day.”
“Elsie!” Rema peeked over her shoulder. Fortunately, the sailor seemed too distant to hear. “You mustn’t talk so candidly around the crew.”
“But there’s crew everywhere. They crawl all over the ship. If you don’t like their presence, come to my cabin and we’ll talk there.”
“You know I can’t do that. Not without cause.”
“You do have a cause, though. And I wore this dress specifically to remind you of it.” Elise slid her hand down her stomach and rested it just above her thighs, fingers suggestively parted. “If you come to my cabin, I’ll remind you in more detail.”
Such performances were Elise’s revenge, and an effective revenge at that. In return for the ignominy of capture, she seemed determined to flirt with Rema at every opportunity. Ordinarily, Rema would have thrilled at the discovery Elise possessed such a carnal mind, but under the circumstances, her lewdness was nothing less than terrifying.
“I recall a timid woman who tried to make me blush by asking questions, only to turn crimson in an instant herself.” Rema frowned at the grinning, unrepentant Elise. “What happened to her, I wonder?”
“She realized she no longer had anything to lose by audacity.” Elise shook her wild hair over her shoulder. “If you aren’t going to help me look for porpoises, and you aren’t going to converse with me, you could at least lighten my day with a smile.”
Rema could hardly deny the request, and when Elise returned the smile in kind, Rema’s anxiety broke in an instant. Though the last two weeks had been stressful, Elise had also proven a perfect companion who never tired of stories of foreign lands, courts and cities. Her deep laughter and husky voice had become quickly beloved to Rema, and whenever Elise listened in her wondering reverie, her face became especially beautiful, lips parted in rapture, eyes more mystical than ever.
“Rema!” Muhan’s voice came from the top step of the staircase that led below decks. He looked resplendent in his colored
garments; he had redyed his mustache a vivid yellow, and his eyebrows were stained a startling blue. “May I have your company a moment?”
“Won’t you join us here?” asked Elise. She had grown fond of Muhan, despite an initial aversion to his fakery, as she called it. She admired his wisdom and geniality, and he, in turn, enjoyed her quick temper and incisive questioning.
Muhan shook his head. “It concerns our fellow traveler.”
“Ah!” Elise reacted as if somebody had touched her with a wet fish. She despised Bannon to the point she refused to even acknowledge his presence, and Rema could hardly blame her. “Then go on with you, Rema. I’ll tell you if I see anything interesting.”
“Please do.”
Rema followed Muhan to the lower deck, where they stood in the shade of a sail. Sailors worked around them—and one above, too, in the rigging—but they paid no attention to Rema and Muhan. It was impossible to enjoy such privacy with Elise present, for no matter where she stood, she drew the attention of every man on deck.
“What’s Bannon done?” said Rema. From the moment of boarding, Bannon had been as elusive as he was menacing. He had a cabin but never seemed to be in it, and sailors complained he roamed the deck at night, scaring them with his unblinking eyes. He never helped on deck, ate alone, and was often seen aft at evening, gazing in the direction of the land they’d just fled.
“Nothing more than is usual. I merely have mustered the courage to ask you a question that has long dogged me.” Muhan pressed his hands together as he spoke, a typical Ulati custom when broaching a sensitive topic. “Rema, are you threatened by this man?”
“Threatened? How do you mean?”
“I understand you won him from his former master with promises of wealth, but do you fear reprisal if you abandon him?”
Understanding dawned. “Are you offering to dispose of him for me?”
“Accidents can happen at sea. I am not disposed to lethality, but I fear for you when I see the way he stares. Violence has marked that man as its own.”
“His appearance is a mere accident of nature. I’ve known many a good soul with an unhappy visage. Whereas Calan could be said to be handsome, but he was as squalid a person as any I’ve met.”
“He and Bannon are not the same manner of fiend. I have encountered men like Bannon throughout this world, and women too. Though he has never spoken to me, I know it is not from malice but simple disinterest. And I have learned to fear the kind of man in whose company I might spend a fortnight, yet will never once be bid a good morning. They are the kind who never tremble, show mercy or even understand human goodness. The kind whose lives are decided only by the edge of a blade.”
“I understand, but I have to fulfill my obligation. Just ignore him. When we arrive in Arann, he’ll simply become one of many mercenaries.”
“There are mercenaries, and then there are devils.” Muhan shrugged. “As you wish. Merely remember my words to you. How goes the princess? Does she still torment you?”
Rema chuckled. “Yes, she does. I suppose I deserve it.”
“She has expressed to me an almost frantic desire to have a private conversation with you. It frustrates her immensely, and I don’t believe her thinking to be entirely lustful. She has many fears to share, Rema, and very little time in which to share them.” Muhan smiled. “Thus I have arranged a conjuring act for this evening. The crew will be in attendance, bar an unlucky few. Take opportunity of it to give her the comfort she craves.”
His point, though discreetly put, had a bite to it. It wasn’t as if Elise would forcibly ravish Rema, after all. If she remained vigilant and remembered her purpose, why should she fear a little intimacy? Wasn’t it only right that she offer Elise solace and reassurance?
“I take your meaning,” said Rema. “Thank you, Muhan.”
“I wish only the best for you, poet-born.” Muhan bowed with his hands clasped to his chest. “I must now offer my assistance to the crew. How fortunate for them that I am here, given they lost three hands in Danosha.”
“I’m only amazed that any sailor would choose to abscond to Danosha, of all the ports in the world.” Rema returned the farewell gesture. “Take care, Muhan. And don’t mind Bannon.”
“I can no more ignore him than I would ignore a viper inside my own tent.” Muhan strode across deck, rubbing his palms together.
After a moment’s consideration, Rema returned up the stairwell. Elise remained where she had stood before, but she had slumped against the railing, her cheek pressed to the wood. “Elsie.”
It turned out that Elise was half in slumber. She murmured as she opened her eyes fully. “I thought I’d try dozing.”
“Why not read in your cabin?”
“My cabin is too hot. And if I read on deck, the gulls befoul the pages.” At the mention of gulls, Elise bared her teeth. “They’re hideous rodents.”
“I have an invitation for you. Come take the air with me this evening. We’ll meet here and watch the sun set. I have reason to believe the crew will be distracted elsewhere.”
“Oh!” Elise stood bolt upright. “How romantic. Will there be more of your tales, or may we finally talk candidly?”
“Candidly.” It was a tough concession, yet Elise’s delight made the word worth uttering. “At sunset, remember.”
Elise laughed. “How could I forget? Well, now you’ve told me this, I’ll keep watching the waves. Given my sudden luck, perhaps a white porpoise truly is near.”
“I thought you said they weren’t lucky or unlucky.”
“I can’t know, though, can I? I’m willing to be proven wrong.” Elise clutched the railing as she leaned forward to look more intently at the ocean. Rema resisted the urge to pull her back to safety; the one time she’d done so, Elise had thrown a spectacular tantrum. “I’d be even happier to see a whale, but Muhan says there are none in these waters.”
“Did he now? I’ve heard of whales being spotted in these seas.”
“Truly?” Elise’s smile widened further. “Then I’ll watch for whales as well. Do you know what I like about the ocean, Rema? It’s unconquerable. Warlords like Calan think they can have dominance over all that there is, but they forget this. The lands beneath the sea, the odd animals that call it home. My books say that people live down there, walking in cities of coral, staring up at a shimmering canopy of water they call the sky.”
“Perhaps someday, my business will take me there.” Rema touched the back of Elise’s hand briefly, the most contact she dared. “I shall see you soon.”
“Yes, yes.” Elise sighed as she slumped back to the railing. “But already I’m bored again.”
To shake thoughts of Elise and Bannon, Rema retired to her cabin. Its single porthole was obscured by a piece of netting, and it reeked of varnish. She checked on her trunk—still safely stowed in the corner—before reclining on her hammock with a book. This was one of the titles from Elise’s great library, but a book on history, not magic. It detailed the Danoshan nobility, dwelling especially on the royal Danarian line. It had been written some decades ago, and it ended its timeline with the young Cedrin Danarian, who had apparently come to reign at the age of ten.
As fascinating as the subject of Elise’s forebears was, weariness found Rema somewhere amid the pages. She awoke under a reddish glow. Not quite sunset, but near enough that she risked missing her appointment. Without a single twinge from her knees, she rose, put her book safely away and stepped into the hall outside her cabin.
The ship was riddled inside with narrow halls, the floors of which often tilted with its movement. Rema navigated with as much certainty as she could—her cabin had been changed from the first voyage, and she had spent some time reacquainting herself with a new route to the lower deck. She passed by a galley occupied by sailors, and soon encountered three more walking together. Two of them appeared animated, full of mirth, and a quick glance revealed why—they were supporting the sailor who had boasted that he would defeat Muhan. It appeared he
had instead secured himself a bruised forehead and a look of despondency.
“No luck?” she said.
The sailor only muttered. His companions sniggered, and one gave Rema a friendly smile. A few of the sailors still held to the superstition regarding women on deck, but in the eyes of most, an imperial diplomat was not a female at all. Besides, Rema’s appetites were no secret in Arann, and most of the crew were aware that Rema had bedded more women than any of them. Oddly, that fact seemed to win her a certain amount of respect.
The lower deck was abandoned. The sun had dipped to the horizon, caressing the ocean with the last of its light, and a faint sprinkling of stars decorated the sky above it. As Rema walked by the mast, a board creaked to her left, and she turned. She had half-expected Elise, impatient to see her. Instead, she met Bannon’s malignant gaze as he emerged from around the corner of the wheelhouse.
His hood was down, and he wore a leather cloak that trailed behind him. The dagger in his belt seemed to have been placed there deliberately as a reminder—it was not quite in its sheath, exposing a meaningful hint of metal—and his smile, as ever, was charming in design but utterly cold. “Your princess is at the prow,” he said. “Looking as expectant as a maiden in a moonlit garden.”
“I suppose you want me to thank you for not pushing her over the edge.”
“It’d be a hell of a splash.”
Rema scowled. Her patience was considerable, but this man had a unique knack for testing it. “I don’t care for your jokes, Bannon.”
“Tell me a better one, then. What did that Ulati want from you earlier? Is he angling to break my neck?”
“Muhan didn’t mention you.”
“Then why did he say my name?” Bannon smirked. “I can read lips, Rema. You don’t get to be the kind of man I am without mastering a few covert arts.”
“And what kind of man is that?”
“A still-breathing one. Do him a favor and warn him that I’m not a sailor to be wrestled. I don’t have any reason to see him dead, so personally, I’d prefer not to have to dispatch him.”
The Diplomat Page 18