Salt in the Water (A Lesser Dark Book 1)

by S. Cushaway

  “Nith’ath are rare things, and one in a bottle of whiskey is a fine prize,” the young Sulari man—Aizr-hin—said. “Do you hear the wind outside, Druen? The storm is very bad. It might even be a Bloom, my father says. When he wakes, he’ll want to speak with you.”

  Gairy scowled. “Help me sit up.”

  Senqua shook her head. “You should lay and rest or—”

  “I said, I want to sit up. If I keel over, that ain’t your business, Senqua. Now help me up or don’t.”

  Aizr-hin laughed. “You are a very surly goat. Worse than any da’mel, I think. If a pretty girl were chirping over me like a mother sparrow, I would lay back and enjoy the attention. But Druen are said to be stubborn and a little slow in the head. Here. I will help you sit.” He jerked his head at the older Sulari. “Ga’behz, get your arm around his shoulder and assist me.”

  “Of course.” Ga’behz inclined his head before sliding a stringy, long arm under Gairy’s back. Together, the two Sulari heaved. Everything went dark and hazy as Gairy’s muscles strained, trying to pull him back down rather than upward. Sweat broke out along his brow, and his stomach knotted, queasy.

  “There,” Aizr-hin declared. “You are sitting. You may thank me for my assistance later. It’s a rare thing for a He-Goat to be tended by a Sulari prince.”

  After the black spots stopped swirling before his eyes, Gairy asked, “Why’re you three up here, in the plaza? I didn’t think any squatters were this close to Dogton. This is Dogton property, by rights.”

  “No one uses this now. We’ve been here for a while,” Ga’behz replied, shrugging. “It is better than Bywater, and it is easy enough to hide from Enforcers. And you. . .” he smirked. “Are not a very good scout. Sometimes, we watch you from Pointe Rock and see you sleeping by the well.”

  Gairy flushed, shame burning as hot as his indignation. “Heh. You get caught by the Enforcers, you’re gonna—” Then, he remembered. These squatters would never get caught by the Enforcers. Not now, not after Evrik Niles and the Scrapper fleet rolled into Dogton.

  Why did I do it?

  That thought, more clear and sober than any he’d had for years, hurt worse than the thirst. He glanced at Senqua and almost asked it aloud. But she only frowned at him, disgust and pity written all over her face.

  “Your leg?” he asked, looking away again. “They take care of it?”

  “Yes, they did. It was only a sprain.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear her snarling and cursing us when we were looking it over,” Aizr-hin said dryly. “We had to hold her down, and Shyiine are strong even if they are not so very big. Judging from the bite on your hand, I will assume you already know that, He-Goat.”

  “My name’s Gairy Reidur, not ‘He-Goat,’ you smug son of a bitch.”

  Ga’behz reached for the knife at his belt, but Aizr-hin stopped him with a look. “Let it pass, cousin. What words can damage us now, after everything else that’s happened?” He tilted his chin. “And I am smug. You’ve said so yourself, many times.”

  “No Sulari should allow a lesser being to insult them.” Ga’behz fingered the knife hilt. “You especially. Last of your father’s line, unbroken since the days before Pirahj fell under the great shadow of Toros . . .” He sighed. “Have some pride, Aizr-hin.”

  “So which is it, cousin? Do I need more pride, or am I smug?”

  Gairy didn’t want to listen to their prattle, or hear the wind beating against the limestone walls of the bathhouse like some furious monster. The effects of the tea had worn thin, and the thirst began to crawl up his throat, tickling the back of his mouth. He tried to stand, but his legs would not work, and the very effort made a wave of dizziness flood his senses. Finally, he sat still, studying the big expanse of his belly and chest—hairy, pale, and thick compared with Aizr-hin’s graceful form. He felt disgusted his body had betrayed him so very badly.

  Senqua snatched the waterskin from Ga’behz without looking at the man. She held it out, water leaking around her fingers. “You’re shaking, Gairy. Drink some more.”

  “Leave me alone, damn it!” He slapped the waterskin away. “I’m sick of you, Senqua. Half of this is your fault. If you’d have stayed in the outpost like I told you—”

  “Those men would have shot her dead anyway,” a creaky voice cut in from the direction of the fire. The huddled blankets moved as a bald head and wrinkled face emerged from underneath the tattered rags. “The She-Snake told us what happened after you passed out, Druen.” Gah’leen smiled, showing his gums in toothless amusement.

  “They wouldn’t have,” Gairy lied. “If she’d have stayed hidden, they’d have never noticed her. And now she sold the whiskey to you. It was my whiskey, and I want it back.”

  Gah’leen jerked his chin at Senqua. “You see, Shyiine? I told you it was no use to help a man so poisoned by whiskey. It gets into their brains and rots their hearts. I never let my Druen even sip wine; they are no good with alcohol.”

  “Mi’et wasn’t your Druen,” Senqua said. She limped near the fire and shoved the waterskin at him. Gah’leen’s gummy smile cracked his face like an ugly ravine.

  Prince Gah’leen! From the old days . . . how the hell did I forget that name?

  Gairy blinked, realizing that the last time he’d seen the old Sulari Prince, he’d looked almost exactly like Aizr-hin, who had seated himself next to his father. Gah’leen watched him, knowing, sly. Yes, the Sulari had always been sly, always seemed to look right through him. Inwardly, Gairy cringed, wishing he could hide.

  “My Mi’et,” Gah’leen said, breaking his gaze. “Ah. Now there was a Druen. A He-Goat-Snake that the sun baked into too many colors. Ugly, but magnificent in his ugliness. He was . . .” the old man’s eyes took on a faraway look. “He was beautiful when he killed men in the pit.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Senqua said.

  Gah’leen cackled, but Ga’behz fixed Senqua with a dark look, daring her to say more.

  “I remember you, Gah’leen,” Gairy said. “My old man used to clean the pits after the fights.”

  “I do remember, yes.” The old Sulari shook a spindly finger in his direction. The fire’s glow outlined every wrinkle in his face, cutting deep shadows along the lines. “The big boy. Your mother was Estarian, wasn’t she? I wanted to buy you once. That pig Madev Al’Daree . . . my cousin, may the Sun King shine upon his bones . . . told me you were not for sale because you were a citizen of Avaeliis, technically speaking. Pity, Eizen Tragir. I’d have made a champion out of you like I did my Mi’et. Ah, but those days are over. Long over.”

  “My name’s Gairy Reidur, not . . . not that other name. I want my whiskey back. I’ll give you my coat for it.”

  “What am I going to do with a coat that big? And it’s filthy.” Gah’leen waved his hand. “No. We will keep the bottle with the Nith’ath in it. I like it. It’s a rare thing, and I admire rare things like—”

  “Like ‘my Mi’et,’ is that what you would say, Father?” Aizr-hin interrupted. He grimaced at Gairy. “See, now you have him remembering the old days. Bah, do not look so offended He-Goat, nor you either, pretty Shyiine. We’ve no desire to enslave any of you. It is as my father said; those days are over. Even if we took you to slave, what would we do with you? We can’t to go back to Bywater with you—not with Lein Strauss in charge. Though it’s a pity you are not in better shape, Druen. Maybe you could kill Strauss.

  “My Mi’et could have,” Gah’leen said mournfully. “I should have had him killed so his legend could live forever. I hear he’s working for Neiro Precaius now. Feh.” He spat. “A thousand curses upon Precaius for such an insult.”

  “Lein Strauss?” Gairy frowned, ignoring the old man’s ranting. “He’s dead, almost fifteen years ago. The Enforcers got him outside Bywater. Used a decoy caravan and ambushed him. Hit him with Firebrand.”

  Ga’behz shook his head. “No. He lived. Three years ago, he killed Prince Om’aru and put everyone under his thumb again. He
took everything. Hoarded all the food and water, and gave it out to those that pleased him most. The Sulari do not please him. People are dying there like flies under his rule, but everyone is too afraid to do anything. He’s too big, too cruel, and too many of the Estarian bandits are happy to carry out his wishes to keep in his good graces.”

  “Strauss. Hell, there’s a name I thought I’d never hear again. Senqua, might be we did Besh and his crew a favor. If they’d have gotten to Bywater, Strauss would have butchered them.”

  “The Besh,” Gah’leen scowled. “He’s the reason why—”

  “So you ran away from Bywater,” Senqua interrupted. “And came here. How long ago?”

  “We’ve been here just over a year,” Aizr-hin said. “The water here still flows, though it runs dry sometimes. It comes from the same reservoir as the well your He-Goat likes to sit at.” He shrugged. “Most Sulari will not come here because of the Nah’gatt. Bandits don’t like staying this close to Dogton or Pirahj, so no one bothers us much.”

  “But you’re here,” Gairy pointed out. “Why aren’t you afraid of Nah’gatt? Thought all you Sulari believed in that crap.”

  “Lein Strauss is worse than a Nah’gatt,” Ga’behz said. “Nah’gatt might haunt you, but Lein Strauss will peel the skin off your bones, and do it slowly.”

  Gairy grunted, privately agreeing. He eyed the three Sulari men. “What do you want for that whiskey?”

  Gah’leen’s knobby chin puckered. “It’s not for sale.”

  Senqua smiled. “That is the first good thing I’ve ever heard a Sulari say.”

  Gairy pointed at her, hand shaking. “Shut up. You stole it from me. You’re a thief.” Heat crept up his cheeks, slick with sweat under his beard. “You had no right. No right!”

  She glared at him. “You gave up any right you had when you took the whiskey from Evrik Niles as a bribe. Because of you, I had to give the only thing my mother left me so we could have water and medicine. Because of you, Gairy Reidur, we’re here, stuck in the Sun Plaza in the middle of a sandstorm, with a bunch of Sulari squatters!”

  Aizr-hin laughed. “Come now, it’s not all bad, is it? Have we been unkind?” He bowed so grandly it almost seemed as though he were wearing a silk yalei instead of a tattered wool coat. “And we humbly ask you, as your hosts, to stop arguing. Sit. Drink some clean water, and eat some of the threk I shot. The meat is tough and gamey, but it is food all the same.”

  “Yes, sit and eat. Drink water. There’s something that needs to be discussed,” Gah’leen said, nodding at them. “If the Scrappers and this Evrik Niles are going to Dogton, then it’s clear you cannot go back there. Not given what the She-Snake has told us.”

  “My name is Senqua.”

  Gairy rubbed his temples.

  Just shut up. I don’t care. I don’t. None of it matters. I just want my bottle.

  “Sen-qua.” Gah’leen pronounced the name slowly, pursing his lips. “That is a Shyiine name, isn’t it? Kestrel. Not the name for a slave girl. But you speak Pihranese well. You were born to the language. Your master let you keep that name? Ah, but never mind that now.” He cleared his throat and spat into the fire. The sparks flared at the wetness, hissing.

  “Dogton isn’t safe,” he said. “Nor would Neiro Precaius be like to treat with us. However, the Foundry might, and that was our original destination before I grew too weak to travel.”

  Gairy sneered. “That’s hundreds of miles north; no one can walk that far. My granddaddy made it through the Wilds and over the mountains, but this isn’t the east. This is the Shy’war-Anquai. Not even Shyiine—”

  “Gairy Reidur, how little you know of the Pihranese people,” Ga’behz said. “Before the rise of Pirahj, the Pihranese were all nomads. Who do you think traversed this land, if not us? We were here even before the Shyiine, before Toros changed them into snakes. Before any Druen goat ever stepped foot in the desert, it was ours, and ours alone.”

  And look at you now. Dressed in rags, hidin’ in a ruin like scared s’rats.

  “What my poor nephew says is true, and if anyone would know, it is Ga’behz,” said Gah’leen. “He was a great scholar and mathematician before the Estarians came, even if he was not so rich as me. It is why he trained my slaves. He knew how to break them without raising a whip; his tongue is sharp and he never forgets anything. But I digress.”

  He leaned forward, his head bobbing up and down on his scrawny neck, reminding Gairy of an ancient tortoise. “I am too old to make the trip now, but it is my sincerest wish that my people in Bywater are one day free to do trade and live amongst other humans again. The days of the Sulari nobles may be over, but our children suffer—”

  “So did the children of the Shyiine that your people stole!” Senqua pressed her fists tight against her thighs, shoulders trembling as she spoke. “And many of the Druen, too. And the Drahgur, before the Foundry gave them refuge from the slavers. But the Shyiine most of all. Thousands of children and women and men taken from their homes and made to be slaves! My father and mother were among those, and my mother died from it. Why should the Sulari be forgiven for what they did?”

  “Because, She-Snake, the people suffering most in Bywater now are not your masters—they are children. Most of those who took slaves are dead, and I will be soon, too. I’m old. I’m tired, and my bones hurt. But my son need not suffer for what his forefathers did against your people. Nor should his future children.”

  Senqua narrowed her eyes. “And what about the children of the Shyiine who were born into slavery? What about ‘your’ Mi’et? I bet you’d put a collar around him, or me, or any Shyiine again if you had the chance.”

  There she goes again. Causing trouble. They’ll toss us out in the storm to die.

  “Such a temper.” Aizr-hin laughed. “I’ve heard of how quick to anger the Shyiine are, but seeing it firsthand is something else entirely. Do all your people look so stunning when they are enraged, or only you, Senqua?”

  Senqua snarled low in her throat. “Keep your sweet words to yourself. I want none of them!”

  “Senqua!” Gairy leveled his gaze at the Shyiine woman. “I was tryin’ to make a deal with the old man about the whiskey you stole from me. Shut up, before you get shot for opening your smart mouth.”

  “Coward!” She kicked sand at him. “When did you become such a coward, Gairy Reidur? No, don’t answer. I know when.”

  Without another word, she stalked off, leaving the four of them sitting there by the fire. She huddled near the broken door and stared out at the raging storm. Gairy wished he were strong enough to shake some sense into her. But even the thought left his arms trembling and his heart pounding. He hated Senqua fiercely at that moment. And yet, somewhere in the pit of his belly and below the savage yearning for whiskey, he felt a sting of admiration for her. Small and unarmed though she was, Senqua’s fiery defiance proved Shyiine had courage in droves—and no common sense at all.

  “She’s just a scrawny Shyiine bitch,” the thirst whispered. “Give her to the Sulari. Trade her for the whiskey. One drink and it’s over. Sweet release forever. No more thinking about your mama dyin’ on that bed, no more thinkin’ about your daddy drownin’ himself in that horse trough . . .”

  “The He-Goat’s mind has wandered to the stars. Perhaps he’s pondering the question I asked him five minutes ago.”

  Gairy shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What did you ask me, old man?”

  “I asked you if we could make a bargain.”

  “Depends.” Gairy scratched at his beard. Even that small movement made his whole body tremble. Trying to seem casual, he lowered himself to the ground to stop his head from spinning. “What kind of bargain?”

  Gah’leen motioned Ga’behz closer, gripped his nephew’s wrist, and heaved himself up with a grunt. He shuffled close, and Gairy could smell a peculiar scent about the old Sulari beneath the dust and sweat—the rank odor of death.

  Gah’leen peered down at him with rheumy eyes.
“Ah. I can tell by the look on your face you know I am not long for this world. No matter, He-Goat. We all die someday, even the Enetics.” Bracing his lower back, he lowered himself, his knees all but buckling under the strain.

  Gairy breathed through his mouth to avoid the smell of sickness wafting from the Sulari’s body. “What sort of bargain, then?”

  “Druen never do appreciate much conversation, do they? Even my Mi’et . . . heh. Never mind that now.” His cloudy eyes narrowed. “I will make you a good bargain to take Aizr-hin to the Foundry. You are going that way, aren’t you? You can’t go back to Dogton, and you can’t go to Glasstown, either. Wrent is too far away, and no one sane would go to Bywater, now. And the Sand Belt . . .” He grinned. “No one goes that way.”

  “Father!” Aizr-hin, who had been cutting up bits of drying threk meat near the fire stood, a knife in hand, eyes wide. “No! I’m not leaving you or Ga’behz here alone. It would be—”

  “You will,” Gah’leen shot back, authority cracking in his voice and reminding Gairy just who he’d been before; Prince Gah’leen, infamous for his cunning and his raw cruelty.

  And poetry. He used to write poems, and the bards all sang them before the fights. They named a type of whip after him, I think. Hell, what a fucked up world.

  Senqua gathered her yalei around herself as a fleeting expression of fear crossed her face, draining it of color. She ducked her head to hide it.

  She remembers too.

  “I can’t leave you and cousin here alone,” Aizr-hin protested. “Who will hunt for you?”

  “I can still shoot straight enough,” Ga’behz said. “Listen to your father, like a son should. He speaks true. You should go with the She-Snake and the He-Goat to the Foundry. The Junkers might be willing to listen. They have soft hearts, and could help our people in Bywater where Neiro Precaius and the other Estarian kings will not.”

  “I ain’t totin’ no Sulari around with me.” Sand stuck to Gairy’s sweat-drenched back as he propped himself on his elbows, glaring. “I was going to ask you to take Senqua.”