Voyager of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  Ransom chuckled. “Don’t expect me to share my first name with you in return. I hate it.”

  “I wouldn’t. Ransom suits you.”

  He laughed again. “Good night, Rowena.”

  “Good night, Ransom.”

  ***

  The next morning was the same as the first: hot, muggy, and loud with the sounds of the jungle. They left the monkeys behind around noon, when they stopped briefly for Ransom to hand out food, but insects buzzed and hummed around them, diving at the fruit and whirring around their heads. A ha-ha-ha sound like the cough of a dying man echoed above them, and eventually Zara traced the sound to a flock of birds, sapphire blue and ruby red. The entire place reminded her of an old book she’d seen once, its pictures as bright as if the inks were still liquid on the pages. The jungle was lush, and swarming with life, and Zara breathed in the richness of it and couldn’t remember what winter smelled like.

  Rain fell that afternoon, hard, stinging rain like sheets of water pouring from the sky. They huddled together under the shelter of a tree whose trunk was too thick for Zara and Belinda combined to wrap their arms around. Its broad leaves were shaped like giant spoons, collecting water and then overflowing onto whoever was unwary enough to stand too far from the trunk. Zara pushed her wet hair back from her face and wished she’d thought to have it cut before leaving Tremontane. It reached the middle of her back, thick and black, and even though she kept it tied out of her face, it was dirty and slightly greasy, and her scalp itched. It was tempting to run out into the rainstorm and let it wash her clean, but she’d only be uncomfortable later.

  “These storms are common in the afternoons,” Ransom said. He’d pulled out a hat from one of the boxes, something shapeless with a wide brim that kept the drops off his face. “They don’t last long. No more than fifteen or twenty minutes. But there’s more water in one of these cloudbursts than falls during two hours in a northern storm.”

  “And it’s warm,” Theo said. He stuck his hand out to let the rainwater wash over it. “I’ve never felt warm rain before.”

  “This place much different than Eskandel’s forests is,” Cantara said. “They rich and green are, but not so overgrown as this.” She looked as if she’d never been unwell.

  “This is the best source for medicines in the world.” Ransom crouched and sniffed a plant growing near the base of the tree, then fingered its spiky leaves. “This one, for example, is good for a poultice that treats boils and open sores. It’s not mature yet, but there’s quite a few of the adult plants growing near here.” He took out a long knife with a leaf-shaped blade and took a few steps into the rain to cut sprigs off the bushes.

  “Is that why you’re here? Medicines?” Zara asked.

  He favored her with his sardonic grin. “Not to be rude, but that’s none of your business.”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  “With a not so simple answer. One which I’m not giving you.”

  Zara gave up. “My apologies. It’s not like you know anything about me.”

  The grin went from sardonic to amused. He really only had the two expressions, didn’t he? “It’s still none of your business.” He opened the medicine box on the donkey’s back, making it take a few steps away before settling down. Zara peeked over his shoulder. There were sacks, and little boxes, and bundles of herbs tied with colored strings. Ransom took out a ball of red silk thread and whipped its end around the green sprigs, then tied a knot and bit it off. “Curious?” he said. “Never mind. Rowena Farrell is always curious.”

  “I hardly think what’s in that box is a secret, Ransom.” Irritated, Zara turned her back on him.

  “It’s not, but I’m not inclined to take the time to explain it to you.” Ransom closed the box and removed his hat, shaking water from it and spattering Zara’s boots, probably not on purpose. “Rain’s letting up. Let’s move on.”

  The jungle after rain was a very different place. The insects were gone, hopefully drowned, and the air smelled cool and fresh, like morning dew. Even the birds were quiet, subdued by the downpour or still hiding in the shelter of the trees. No one spoke; Zara couldn’t imagine breaking the peaceful quiet with words. Now would be a good time for some large animal to attack, she thought irrelevantly, but started looking around more carefully anyway. Nothing approached them.

  After about an hour, the peace the rain had left behind was supplanted by the usual hot mugginess of the millions of trees and bushes surrounding them. Wisps of steam rose from the wet leaves and from the boxes and bags perched on the donkey’s back. Zara couldn’t tell anymore if she was wet from rain or from sweat. She focused on Belinda’s back, which rose and fell with her harsh breathing. She was holding up better than Zara had imagined, but she stopped occasionally and leaned over with her hands on her knees, shaking her head at Zara when she attempted to help.

  “How much farther?” she asked the fifth time Belinda did this.

  “Hours,” Ransom said over his shoulder, not slowing.

  “What is that in distance?”

  “Distance isn’t so important here as terrain. So it’s hours.”

  “This feels like it’s gone on forever,” Theo said. He didn’t look at all fatigued.

  “Most of the country is still wilderness, settled only by a few villages,” Ransom said. He hacked at a thick branch, then kicked it aside when it dropped. “The big cities all lie along the Amgeli until you get about two hundred miles inland.”

  “We’re going to one of the villages?” Zara didn’t expect him to answer—heaven forbid he cooperate with her—but he said, “Yes,” and if it was a short answer, at least it was an answer.

  They walked. The hundreds of different plants blurred together in Zara’s vision into one solid mass of greenery. She became so accustomed to the noises the animals and birds made that she soon stopped hearing them, noticing only the lack of chirruping and howling when it paused. Her back and legs ached, probably not as much as Belinda’s did, but she kept on putting one foot after the other, too weary to care if she stepped on another snake.

  Ransom held up a hand for them to stop and handed Theo the donkey’s reins. “Wait here,” he said, unstrapping a hunting rifle from the donkey’s side and moving on down the trail. Belinda sat down and put her head between her bent knees. “Are you all right?” Zara said.

  “Just tired. Ready to stop for the night. Where did Ransom say we were stopping?”

  “He didn’t. Unsurprisingly. Just that we had to ‘reach our destination’ before sunset.” Zara held out her hand. “You shouldn’t stop now. It will just be harder when you have to get up again.”

  Belinda groaned, but let Zara pull her to her feet. Behind them, Arjan had his arm around Cantara, supporting her. Their “destination” needed to be close.

  Ransom emerged from the undergrowth, his face grim. “We have to move quickly now,” he said, “and as quietly as we can.”

  “What’s wrong?” Zara asked.

  “Nothing—yet.” Ransom put away the rifle, took the reins from Theo and slapped Nettles gently on the rump. “But najabedhi has been here recently, and I don’t want to meet him even in daylight.”

  “What’s najabedhi?” asked Theo, but Zara already knew. Najabedhi, jungle panther, the animal on the North sign and shield. There was no record of why Willow North had chosen it, though she’d probably intended to intimidate her Council by reminding them she was swift and ruthless like the cat. Zara didn’t want to meet it either.

  “Panther,” Ransom said to Theo. “The Karitians call it horreus, which means ‘night terror.’ This one’s big, probably male, which is less dangerous than the female. If he’s marking his territory, we could be in trouble, but otherwise they tend to stay away from other predators—and they know humans are as close to the top of the heap as they are.”

  “Do the men who live here hunt them?” Arjan said. He and Cantara had come close to Zara as Ransom spoke.

  “Yes. But I’m not a very goo
d shot, so I’d rather not be one of them.”

  “I am,” Belinda said, “but the way I feel now, I’m not sure I could hold a rifle without dropping it.”

  “You hunt?” Theo said.

  “Don’t sound so shocked. I was the County Cullinan amateur sharpshooting champion for ten years. National champion four times. But I’m in no shape for it right now.”

  “That’s a pity,” Ransom said. “Now let’s move on. And try to stay quiet, if that’s possible.”

  Zara wanted to say something sarcastic in return, but he was already down the trail several yards ahead of her, and the thought of the panther creeping up on them held her tongue. She had no idea whether they’d hear it before they saw it, whether it would attack the way the caiman had, and hoped they wouldn’t find out.

  Darkness crept up on them the way it did in the jungle, the air becoming saturated with evening light that glowed gold over the green leaves. Weariness had seeped into Zara’s bones, and it was an effort to put one foot in front of the other. Ahead of her, Belinda stumbled, and Zara caught her. “We have to stop soon,” she called out.

  “Quiet,” Ransom said. “It’s not much farther.”

  There wasn’t much to see, there in the growing dark, except the glow of the moonlight that struck the treetops high above. Zara pushed aside a branch. Was it her imagination, or was the trail growing wider? Ransom had put away his blade and strode forward more rapidly. He moved as if he’d seen something and was trying to reach it as quickly as possible. Belinda stumbled again, and Zara put her shoulder under her friend’s arm and helped her walk, trying to keep up with Ransom. How typical of him not to think of their needs. What exactly was he doing?

  A dark shape loomed up before them, and Zara had to pull up quickly to keep from running into Theo. The young man’s face and arms blended with the night; she could see his eyes and not much else. “Ransom’s gone,” he whispered. “He just disappeared.”

  “He’s here somewhere,” Zara said. “He wouldn’t waste his time taking us into the jungle and abandoning us when he could have left us back at his camp.”

  “Then where is he?” Theo sounded like he was on the verge of terror.

  “I don’t know. We have to stay put.” She said that last to the Zakharis—she didn’t dare even think their real name—who’d come up from behind. Cantara looked far less exhausted than she had the day before.

  “We can’t stand here all night,” Theo insisted. “We have to move on.”

  “Ransom’s coming back, and he won’t be able to find us if we move.” Zara squeezed Theo’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “That’s very sensible advice,” Ransom said, emerging from the bushes. “Come with me.”

  “Where did you go?” Zara said. Now that he’d returned, she could afford to be annoyed with him.

  “Ahead. Just come along.” He took Nettles by the reins and started walking without looking to see if they were following. Zara swore under her breath. Wherever they were going had better have beds.

  The bushes were thinning out, and soon Zara could see the moonlight clearly, a warm glow that gave just enough light to keep them from tripping over roots and small plants. Then they were out of the bushes and back among the tall trees. Zara looked up at the distant canopy. Moonlight struck the leaves—but no, it was coming from beneath the leaves, and it was too orange for moonlight. Fire, like dozens of campfires or a hundred torches, made the leaves glow and cast their elongated shadows on the branches above. Dark shapes too regular to be natural clung to the thick trunks, and heavy strands like the biggest spider web in the world hung between them. It was all so strange to her exhausted brain she rubbed grit out of her eyes and looked again. Still there.

  “Up,” Ransom said. He was standing next to a ladder made of short sticks bound together by long, fuzzy ropes. “And I hope none of you are afraid of heights, because sleeping on the ground isn’t an option.”

  Belinda immediately took hold of the rungs and began climbing. Ransom steadied the ladder for her and said, “One at a time.”

  Theo, then Cantara, then Arjan climbed out of sight. “Afraid?” Ransom said.

  “Hardly. Who’ll hold the ladder for you?”

  Ransom nodded, a quick jerk of his head over his shoulder, and Zara stifled a gasp as two men appeared next to him. They wore short skirts of leather and were bare-chested. Each man bore a club as big around as her thigh and neither of them looked happy to see her. “Go ahead, Rowena,” Ransom said. “Who knows what trouble the rest of them have gotten into?”

  Zara took hold of the rungs and, not looking down, began the long ascent.

  Chapter Eight

  The ladder led to a small, square platform of planed lumber, so unexpected Zara stood on it for a moment without moving, feeling she’d stepped out of the jungle into a different world. Another ladder stretched upward from it. She took hold of the rungs and climbed again. Two more platforms interrupted the ladder before she came to the top, where she clambered over the edge of a much larger platform, feeling a tug on her trousers as they caught on the rough lip. She knelt there, breathing heavily from the exertion, grateful to be done climbing. Then she stood, slowly, and looked around.

  The others stood a short distance away, huddled together like a tiny flock of bedraggled sheep. Facing her was the biggest man she’d ever seen, nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and an enormous belly not restrained by the leather skirt he wore. If the men below had been unfriendly, this one looked as if he were mere seconds away from erupting into violence. His being unarmed wasn’t a comfort; he could probably beat her to death with his fists alone. Or just shove me off the platform, she thought. She squared her shoulders and regarded him without fear.

  “Rowena,” Arjan said, “where is Ransom?”

  “Coming,” Zara said. The big man shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. In the firelight, his dark skin glowed golden, and light sparked on the copper hoops he wore in his left ear, five of them running up the edge of it and into the cartilage. Zara didn’t take her eyes off him. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “That man has me very worried,” Belinda said. “Maybe you should come over here.”

  Zara didn’t move. “He’s not going to hurt us.”

  “Again, so sensible,” Ransom said, pulling himself over the edge. “This is Kossrek Tamun, the…I suppose you could call him the ruler of this village.” He spoke in Karitian to Tamun, who regarded him dispassionately, then responded with a few curt words. Ransom glanced at Zara, then spoke again, longer this time. Tamun looked Zara up and down as if assessing her. He said a few more words. Ransom snapped back a response that made Tamun’s eyes widen.

  To Zara’s astonishment, the giant laughed and slapped Ransom on the back. Ransom laughed with him, but it sounded forced. Tamun shouted, and dark-haired men and women came from nowhere, smiling and bowing with both hands placed palm-together in front of their navels. Theo gasped and ducked his head. None of the people were wearing shirts, male or female. Zara regarded him sympathetically, remembering her first, hah, exposure to an Eskandelic resort in which nudity was the norm. So many bare breasts…well, he could probably stand to have his horizons broadened.

  “Go with them,” Ransom said. “They’ll feed you and give you a place to sleep. I have things to take care of.”

  “What were you and Tamun talking about?” Zara said.

  “Just negotiations.”

  “Negotiations that required him to look at me like I was a side of beef?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain later.”

  Zara stepped in front of him. “That’s not good enough.”

  Ransom took her by the shoulders and moved her to the side. His eyes were shadowed with tiredness. “I have to get my cargo stowed. It will have to be good enough. Please, Rowena, show a little common sense and patience?”

  Zara scowled. “Meaning I don’t usually?”

  “Meaning I tr
ust you to keep the rest of them from doing anything stupid. I’ll be back later.” He bent to take hold of the ladder and disappeared over the side. Zara glared at the place where he’d been. He was abrupt, but it had been a compliment, and that made it hard to stay angry with him.

  She had to run to catch up with the others, her feet thudding across the platform of more planed lumber. Where could they get that in the middle of the jungle? Torches made a puddle of light ahead, illuminating wooden walls and a doorway hung with a blanket woven in an intricate pattern. She almost stopped to examine it, saw how far ahead the others were, and left it for later.

  She passed several more of the wooden houses—were they houses?—before reaching the others, who were crossing a wooden bridge with woven ropes for handrails. The bridge, too, was made of short planed planks and moved unpleasantly as Zara stepped onto it, like a snake shifting underfoot. She waited, watching the others spaced out along it like beads on a string, before crossing. Thank heaven it was dark and she couldn’t see the ground below. She’d never been in a position to learn whether she was afraid of heights and didn’t want to find out on a rickety bridge heaven knew how far above the ground.

  There were more torches on the far side of the bridge, and Zara could see clearly the building they were approaching. It encircled the trunk of an enormous tree, with wooden shingles the length of her forearm covering the roof and a hollowed-out curve of wrist-thick vine fastened just below the lowest shingles, positioned to catch the heavy rains that rolled off the roof and funnel them into…Zara traced the path with her eye. There was the rain barrel, off to the left. Large windows pierced the wooden walls, these made of woven branches rather than planed wood, and light streamed from within.

  Zara caught up to the others as they hovered near the doorway. “Let’s go in,” she said, seeing one of the women who’d been their escort holding aside the blanket and gesturing for them to enter.