Exile of the Seas

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Harlan had been the one to make the plans. He was the one who would have set us up in a new country, a new home. I was little better than the mouse Kaja called me, timid, without claws, with no way to protect myself. Once the Valeria deposited me wherever she was going, no one would bring me food and let me live in a dark cabin. I realized I’d begun silently weeping.

  “Please, go away and leave me alone,” I begged, not at all expecting that she would. I would have done better to assume an imperious manner and order her away, but in this new life I had no authority. I had no one to summon to discipline the disobedient or recalcitrant. Kaja was stronger than I, and thus she held all the power.

  Moving slowly, she sat on the bolted-down chair. She laid her hands on the table, palms up, as if showing me she had nothing in them, and spoke slowly. “I don’t have all the words. I only hear some of what you say. But I know you are afraid. I want to help.”

  “Why?” My voice rose perilously high, but it didn’t matter. She’d seen my face and knew me for a woman. Had likely never been fooled.

  “Because…” She frowned. Said something in another language. “What is the word in Dasnarian? It is the…not justice thing to do. Not law.” She lifted a hand slowly and tapped her breast over her heart, then her temple. “It is…good to do.”

  “Good for you or for me?”

  “Both.” She grinned briefly, then sobered. “You need help. I…” She brightened. “The goddess rewards me!”

  “Glorianna will reward you for helping me?” I didn’t quite believe that. Sól never taught helping the helpless. From what little I knew of the hearth goddess Glorianna, who Kaja seemed to believe ruled mighty things, She didn’t either.

  “Danu.” Kaja spoke very seriously. She tapped the knife. “Danu teaches strength. Justice. Protection of those who need it.”

  I found myself relaxing a little. And with it, a trembling weakness in my legs. It came from being frightened and panicking, I’d discovered, and went away only after I’d rested. I looked longingly at the other chair, but it seemed too close to Kaja. Perhaps I could sit on the floor.

  A knock thundered on the door, making me squeak in alarm. Kaja held up soothing hands. “Dinner, yes?”

  Of course. I’d heard the seventh bell ring but hadn’t truly registered it. Kaja rose and opened the door. While her back was turned, I edged over to sit on my narrow cot. She took a tray from the servant, speaking at some length, in good spirits, even laughing once. Then she closed the door and set my tray on the table. Catching my fixed stare, she turned back and bolted it.

  “Boy brings my dinner, too. And wine, for to relax.” She crooked a finger at me. “Come. Sit. We will talk and understand more.”

  The food smelled delicious, and it would help me feel stronger again. I no doubt looked ridiculous cowering on my bunk when Kaja could be at me in two strides. Lifting my chin, I made myself come to the table and regally sat in the other chair.

  “Good.” Kaja nodded with a smile. “We start new. I am Kaja. What is your name?”

  ~ 3 ~

  I stilled, searching her face. “Brian.”

  Kaja didn’t stop smiling, but she shook her head slowly. “No. This is man’s name. In Dasnaria, women are never given men’s names. I know this much.”

  “Have you been to Dasnaria?” I asked. If there would be an interrogation, I’d prefer to control the questions and answers. “Did you board the Valeria in Sjór?”

  “Eat.” She pointed at my plate. “Dasnaria is not good place for woman like me, yes?” She lifted an arm and flexed her impressive muscles in demonstration, and a laugh escaped me. It was true, I could not imagine what my people would make of her. I certainly didn’t know.

  “I look about Sjór some. And I sail with Dasnarians,” she explained, looking pleased that she’d made me laugh. “In the past. Always men.”

  “And learned the language because sailing journeys are long and boring.” I began eating. The evening meal of meat in gravy was always the same, and always unsatisfying. I’d lost weight in the last weeks, unable to force myself to eat. Then lost in the soothing haze of opos smoke that killed pain and also caring about anything at all.

  “Yes.” She grinned. “And Dasnarian men are good for fucking.”

  I blanched, nearly choking on my food as it stuck in my throat, my stomach abruptly heaving. Don’t think about it.

  “Hey.” Kaja’s voice had gone soft. “Wait. Slowly. I am unhappy to—”

  The knock at the door again. I gulped water from the pitcher, willing myself to settle. What a horrible mess I was. Kaja took another tray from the servant and set it on the table. It had a great deal more on it than mine had. She dug a coin out of her pocket and gave it to the servant, which I observed with chagrin. Had I been supposed to support the servants? I’d thought they belonged to the captain. Kaja barred the door again, giving me a concerned look, then poured what looked and smelled like a dark and fruity wine into a mug and handed it to me.

  “Drink. Relax,” she prompted.

  I stared into the mug, uncertain. It might not matter in the grand scheme if she drugged or poisoned me, but I should at least operate as if I might have a chance at survival.

  “Wine,” she explained. “It’s good.”

  I handed her the full mug, drank the remaining water from mine, then poured myself some wine from the pitcher. Holding mine, I regarded her over the rim, reading her expressive face.

  She made a sound of acknowledgement, then drained her mug and set it down. “There are tales of poison in the seraglios of Dasnaria. True tales, yes?”

  I nodded, sipping and finding the wine to be quite delicious. “Seraglio,” I repeated, as she’d mangled the pronunciation.

  Her keen eyes met mine. This Kaja never averted her gaze, but acted as direct as a man might. A disconcerting effect in her beautifully feminine face, with her high, broad cheekbones, full mouth and lush lashes. They came with the dark hair, I supposed, making her eyes look as deep and sultry as if she wore cosmetics for dancing. “Seraglio,” she echoed, with such perfect inflection that I suspected she’d laid a trap for me. “This is where you lived.”

  Not a question, so I just nodded. The wine warmed my stomach, helping it settle.

  “This.” She tugged a lock of her hair, then pointed to my head. “Not like Dasnarian woman.”

  I nearly laughed at the understatement. Dasnarian women prided themselves on the length of their hair, competing with each other for who could grow it the longest. Before this, mine hadn’t been cut since I was seven years old, and that had been as part of a terrible lesson. The first and most brutal from my mother. In a way, it pleased me to have it short, if only because I’d done it to myself and she would hate it.

  “I cut it off,” I told her, then ran my fingers through the short blond fluff. Without the heavy length pulling it down, and in the moist sea air, it had developed curls. My old nurse would have gone wild trying to tame it.

  “Ah.” Kaja nodded, as if confirming something to herself. She ate with great speed and economy, with none of the languid manners of the women I’d grown up with. “Not punishment then.” She gave me a keen look. “Hiding. Running.”

  I caught my breath, because obviously she’d figured that out. Why would I be wearing men’s clothes and pretending—apparently without any success—to be a boy? What did I know of how boys behaved? In Dasnaria it had been easier, as no one expected a woman to be out and about, much less wearing a man’s clothes. In the greater world, people saw through such things.

  “Can you teach me how to pass as a man. Or a boy?” I asked her, a bit of challenge in my voice. Let’s just see how much she really wanted to help.

  Kaja studied me, looking me up and down. “Take off your cloak?” She posed it as a question, though she still used command language. Clearly those men had taught her nothing but. Which meant
they’d regarded her as not exactly a woman, as they hadn’t taught her to speak as one. And yet they bedded her as a woman. She’d seemed happy about it, too, and implied she’d gone willingly. I, of course, knew that some women didn’t mind bed duties and some of the concubines and rekjabrel had even relished the opportunity. But for a free woman like Kaja—why would she subject herself to it?

  I was warm enough in the confines of the cabin, anyway, and the boots hurt my feet. Besides, Kaja knew me for a woman, so I had nothing to hide from her, even if I wished to. I pried off the boots and flexed my toes gratefully. Tossing the cursed things aside, I stood and took off the cloak, hanging it on the hook by the door. Underneath I wore Harlan’s pants and shirt. The pants came too short on my shins, because at fourteen he’d not yet reached his man’s height, but they engulfed my narrow waist, so I’d tied them up with one of my klút scarves. The shirt draped long over the top.

  Kaja studied me, then shook her head. “There is none to believe you are a boy.” She put hands on her breasts. “Too big,” she explained. Then waved a hand over her face. “Too beautiful. Unusual, yes? Unusual beauty. People remember such things.”

  Crushed, I sat. Drank some wine, which was going to my head too fast, so I ate some more.

  Kaja reached over and touched the back of my hand. “Be not sad. Run and hide as a woman. I want to help.” Then she paused. Pushed up the cuff of my shirt where it had fallen away from my wrist as I ate. I started to pull away, but she seized my hand and pulled it toward her, turning it so the ridged red scars showed clearly in the lantern light. Healing, but still angry, the wounds on my wrists from the wedding bracelets stood out stark against my pale skin. When her gaze rose to mine, I nearly quailed at the hardness in her face. The incandescent cold rage in her eyes.

  “Who did this to you?” she demanded. “Manacles make these scars. You were slave?”

  I laughed without humor at her assumption. And decided to tell her. It’s not as if she couldn’t figure it out. If she hadn’t already. Also, I needed the help she offered. “Married,” I said. Much the same. “The wedding bracelets cut into me. My former husband…” I took a breath. Couldn’t say it.

  She let me go, understanding dawning on her face. She spoke something in the tone of a prayer, mentioning her goddess, Danu. “I know who you are,” she whispered. She stood abruptly, startling me, then bowed deeply. “I hear this gossip in Sjór. Princess, I am honored and humbled.”

  ~ 4 ~

  After that, my lessons began in earnest. I discovered over time—and as Kaja became more fluent in Dasnarian and I fumbled through the Common Tongue she taught me—that she earnestly believed her warrior goddess Danu had guided her to the Valeria, in order to help me.

  I wasn’t sure if I believed in such things. The concept of a warrior goddess strained credulity to begin with. Then Kaja’s tale of following dreams she believed to be visions from this goddess sounded like a fantastic tale concocted to reassure me. I might have been important before—as daughter to the emperor and then wife to a king and future mother of kings and emperors—but I’d lost that along with my hair and my title. Even my name, as I couldn’t use it anymore.

  There was no reason for a goddess to guide someone to help me. No reason to believe She had, except that Kaja had found me and offered that help.

  She reassured me, and I came to believe her as the days passed, that no one should be looking on the Valeria for the missing imperial princess. The word in Sjór had been that I was likely hiding and had no coin to book passage on a ship. Which I also fully believed because my father the emperor, my former husband, and even Kral, my other brother, who’d hunted me down—they were all men of pride first and foremost. They wouldn’t believe I could successfully disobey them and escape the very soil of Dasnaria.

  Besides which, they hadn’t known me to be truly escaped when the Valeria set sail with me aboard. They’d been still searching the waterfront, confident in being able to predict me, unaware that a helpful captain had pointed me to a ship I wouldn’t have known to choose. That I’d used jewels pried from my wedding bracelets to buy my passage. Even if they did shed their pride and send out an alert, the message would be chasing us. Among her many sterling qualities, the Valeria sailed faster than most ships. Kaja explained as much. Though we both knew that if someone came after me—which I knew they would, and even Kaja, in her optimistic confidence, wouldn’t rule out—they would come themselves and in strength enough to take me back.

  Thus, while Kaja persuaded me that I could never pass as male, she did agree to keep my true identity hidden as much as possible. That, however, would not include keeping myself invisible.

  “Your eyes are such an extraordinary shade of deep blue,” she explained one evening over dinner, having grown fluent with remarkable speed in the passing days. “Unforgettable. And your hair is nearly ivory. Though there are many blond races, I’ve never seen a woman with hair this color, unless it is with age—and then it’s more ashen or pure white. Your face, too, is like a woman out of a painting. I don’t say this to flatter you, but so you’ll know. I don’t think you realize how fantastically lovely you are. Your graceful movement sets you apart, too. When you go about uncovered, as you’ll have to eventually, or people will immediately suspect you, then you must have a plausible story to explain who you are. And you must prepare to be courted.”

  “Courted?” I echoed, with some surprise. It could be she used the wrong word. “That means the series of meetings for marrying a woman to a man.”

  She nodded vigorously, pointing a fork at me while she chewed. I sometimes considered advising her to take smaller bites, but those were manners for the seraglio and might not matter in the greater world. “Almost that. I don’t think Dasnarian has the word.” She paused, taking a bite and chewing while she considered me, and I thought she wasn’t searching for the words, but seeking a way to avoid upsetting me. It had occurred to me that she might be a woman who enjoyed other women—she looked at me sometimes with that in her eye—but she was also careful of me.

  After that first night, she hadn’t asked me again about the scars on my wrists, but something made me think she’d recognized the cause and suspected what I’d gone through. Perhaps other men besides my former husband suspended their wives by the cuffs around their wrists as part of sex. She danced delicately about those topics. As she did now.

  “Outside Dasnaria,” she explained carefully, steepling her fingers, “such things are not only for marriage. Men and women will approach you, hoping to…ach, I only know one Dasnarian word for it and I know it bothers you.”

  “Fucking,” I made myself say. “It’s not the word itself.” Though I’d kept my spine straight, I stared into my wine as the sweat popped out cold all over my body, feeling as if my pores opened up to squeeze out the oily dread that billowed up when I thought of it.

  Kaja tapped the back of my hand. I fell into these spells when the memories hit me too hard, and she’d developed that trick to bring me back without sending me into fits. “I think,” she said slowly, “that you do not wish to engage in such activities. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

  Maybe not ever. I shivered at the thought. I’d always thought my future held babies. Strong sons to bear my honor and lovely daughters to keep me company. Of course, I’d also thought my future was in Dasnaria and that I’d be a queen, possibly an empress.

  Kaja nodded as if I’d spoken. “I have an idea. This is one reason I think Danu guided my feet to you. I can offer this to you. Some of Her followers practice…hmm.” She spoke a word I didn’t know, then another. A trick of hers with language, where she’d sort through all the words for a concept in all the tongues she spoke, looking for one I might know. Which I never did. She gave up. “They make a prayer-promise?”

  “A vow,” I supplied.

  “Yes! A vow. Our word is very close. They make a vow to Danu to keep their bodies to themse
lves, you understand? No fucking.”

  “Ever?” I was astonished. Such a thing had never occurred to me.

  Kaja shrugged, grimacing. “Not my path. But others, sometimes yes—forever. Others, just for a time of training, thinking, praying. Only about Danu. No other loves.”

  “Could I do this?” I latched onto the possibility. It sounded impossibly perfect. Keeping my body to myself. Being able to say no.

  “Yes. It is a good answer for you. But it must be in your heart and mind. Real. No pretending. I will teach you the ways of Danu, and you will vow yourself to Her.”

  I was nodding vigorously. “Anything. I’ll do whatever you tell me to,” I said, just as I’d said that first night when she said she’d teach me to fight.

  “It won’t be easy,” she warned, then gave me that smile that always reminded me of the seraglio cats stalking the fish in the lagoon. “I am a hard teacher.”

  I laughed at that. She could be no worse than my mother and her painful methods of ensuring obedience. Kaja, I thought, would not flog me. “I may be a soft and ignorant woman compared to you,” I explained, “but I know something of hard lessons.”

  “I believe you do.” Kaja nodded thoughtfully, cleaning the last of the gravy from her plate with some of the bread. “So, to start, dance for me.”

  I stilled, shocked and uncertain. She gazed back at me calmly, no lust in her gaze, a bit of puzzlement in the line forming between her brows.

  “I can pay you another way,” I said, getting up to extract my gloves from the bag I’d shoved under the bed. I set them on the table, and Kaja’s eyes went wide and black.

  “Danu!” she breathed. “Are those real pearls? And diamonds!”