by Dana Marton
“He said you might say that. He said you owed him a favor.” Batumar kept his tone easy, even jesting.
“How’s that?”
Batumar’s lips twitched. “He said he will give your woman a good poking whilst you are at sea. Teach her about the ways of real men.”
For a moment, none of the pirates on board or on shore drew a breath, and, in the sudden tension, I couldn’t either. Then the hard expression on the captain’s face dissolved as he broke into laughter, and the others laughed with him.
He shook his head, the feathers in his hat waving madly as he called down, “I’ll take ye to Ishaf.” He flashed a dark, terrifying grin. “Ye’ll be as safe with us as on mine mother’s own lap.”
I sighed a breath of relief, although I had doubts about how nice the pirate captain’s mother had been if she had produced a son such as this, and another that had cutthroat for a nickname.
Batumar kept his hand near his sword as we walked up the plank. I followed a few steps behind to give him room to move, should this be a trap. The roughly hewn wood swayed perilously under us, cold waves churning below, as if hoping for our misstep. But we made it aboard without incident.
Some of the men watched us openly; others paid as little attention to us as they did to the seabirds. Two pirates, right in our path, were having a contest over who had more injuries. They were measuring scars, stripping off clothes. The taller one was nearly naked.
We stepped around them.
When Batumar walked straight up to the captain, I stopped a distance away, once again giving the High Lord room to defend himself should he be set upon. I prayed to the spirits for our safety.
“I am Umar,” he said, using a common name he had no doubt picked out for the journey beforehand. “The mistress’s hired guard.”
The captain spat. “How do ye know my shite-for-brains brother?”
“I did some small favor for him during the siege.”
I knew nothing of this. Since no imminent danger seemed afoot, I moved up next to Batumar, which I immediately regretted since I could suddenly smell the captain, four full steps away.
“I am Mistress Onra.” I used the first name that came to mind, that of the first true friend I had made on Kadar land.
She had suffered with me as a slave, then suffered more during the battle. But she was safely inside Karamur’s walls now, married to a kindly baker. She oft visited me at the palace.
The pirate captain watched me. “One-Tooth Tum.” He ran his tongue over his black tooth. “Was born with this one, I was. Chewed mine way out of mine mother with it.” He flashed another dark grin.
I did my best to look half-frightened, half-impressed. I suspected pirates were fond of their terrible reputations. But I had birthed enough babes to know that none had chewed their way anywhere. They were all pushed into the world the regular way, which was difficult enough without adding any horrors to it.
He must have been satisfied with my reaction, because he turned back to Batumar. “We’ll stop at Rabeen tomorrow before sailin’ out into the storms. If this floatin’ tub cannay get ye through the storms, naything will.”
The man puffed out his chest. “Welcome onboard the Doomed.” Then he gestured toward the sloop with his head. “And that would be the Damned. They but sail round the island.” He spat again. “Bunch o’ fair-weather rats.”
Batumar glanced toward the dark hole that led belowdecks. “Would there be a cabin for us, Captain?”
The captain laughed, a bellowing sound that came straight from his belly. “Ye think yer on some southern king’s barge?” He sucked his tooth, then scratched his chin. “Ye cannot sleep onboard in a storm, fer damn certain.”
He called a ragged boy of about twelve summers off the mainmast next to us. “Show ’em below, Pek. Past the grain sacks. Be quick with it, ye wee bastard.”
Pek shot across the ship, quick as an eel.
Entering the dark belly of the ship made my skin pucker.
I had once gone aboard a slaver to heal their sick cargo, but they locked me in a cabin instead and sailed with me to a cold Kadar port, sold me as a slave to a hard lord. Before Batumar claimed me, I had lived some difficult times under the rule of a cruel concubine, and I had the scars of flogging on my back to prove it.
But on the Doomed, we were not set upon in the dark passageway. Our only inconvenience was the rats that scurried along without paying us much attention. We had to step over them when we crossed paths. They seemed disinclined to move out of our way.
“A ship full of rats is a happy ship,” Pek said with a sinister chuckle.
I did not understand his meaning then. I came to understand it later.
We headed aft, following Pek’s wiry frame. His clothes were dirty and rent, too large on him, likely hand-me-downs from the other pirates. He pointed over his bony shoulder toward the prow. “Best ye dinnay stray near the captain’s cabin up there. He might think yer after his treasure.”
He made a sharp, cutting gesture over his throat with his grimy hand, his face lighting up with mirth when I blanched.
He led us to a cramped, dank storage room filled about three-quarters of the way with potato sacks. Already, some of the sacks were covered in mold and rot.
I poked the lumpy cargo. “Are we to sleep on top of that?”
“Aye. Best watch ’em in a storm when they roll about,” the boy said with no small amount of glee. “Likely ye’ll be crushed to death.”
A strange boy.
When he left us, whistling, I climbed on top of the stacks that reached to just under the porthole.
Batumar stayed in the small clear space in front of the door, his hand still on his sword. “If they are to attack us, they will do it either as soon as the ship is clear of the island or just as we reach Rabeen.”
My heart clenched.
He watched me with an unfathomable look in his dark eyes as the ship began to move slowly out of the cove first, then faster once it reached open water and all the sails unfurled. The sound of them snapping above in the wind reached us below in the cabin.
I smiled to make sure the High Lord did not think I regretted accompanying him on his journey. Then I shifted, trying to find a spot comfortable enough for settling in. The bags made a lumpy bed. We had room to sit but not to stand.
“Here.” Batumar laid his fur cloak down, and that helped matters once I rearranged myself anew on top.
He opened the thick-glassed porthole for me, and I watched as our island grew smaller, then soon disappeared. Sadness washed over me, and an odd sense of grief.
We had fought hard in the siege and lost many good people. The stone walls of the city had been repaired, but we barely had warriors enough to man those walls. And the enemy had learned our weaknesses, would use them against us when they attacked again.
We had to return with help. Eventually, the enemy would find a way to open the Gate from the other side. If Karamur fell, the whole island would fall. All of our people would die, or worse, become slaves.
“Why is the Emperor so set on taking our island?” I asked. “Dahru has no great treasure. The Shahala live in their huts and heal. The Kadar are great warriors, but truly, just soldiers when it comes down to it, with no special powers. Between us, the Desert of Sparkling Death, with its poisonous minerals.”
“He must have discovered that our Gate is the Gate of the World,” Batumar said, tight-lipped.
My breath caught. The hardstorms made sailing the ocean nearly impossible—if not altogether impossible; that remained to be seen. Only the Gates allowed transport from kingdom to kingdom. Each Gate opened a portal to nearby Gates. But the Gate of the World, a well-kept secret on Dahru, could reach all other Gates. If the Emperor possessed it, he could conquer the entire world with his darkness.
“He wants to be the Emperor of the Four Quarters.” Batumar’s words confirmed my thoughts.
I swallowed painfully. We must not fail. “All has happened according to your plan. We l
eft the palace unseen, we found our way through the mountain, and we are on a ship.”
Batumar kept guard, dipping his head toward the door to listen for sounds outside. “Boarding a pirate ship is not the hardest part, my lady. I fear that leaving it on our own terms will prove the greater difficulty.”
Chapter Five
(Rabeen)
Safe for the moment, we both slept, exhausted from our journey through the mountain. I awoke the next morning in good spirits, but then suddenly remembered that Rabeen had a renowned slave market. Would our journey end there?
Before I could ask Batumar, who was already awake and sitting up, he held out our ravaged food sack toward me with a grimace. “The rats ate our food in the night.”
I blinked to see better in the dim light, then stared at the holes in the burlap. My stomach growled in protest as I silently cursed the rats and sat up to stretch. “Why didn’t they eat the potatoes?”
The great, lumpy pile under us did not appear the least diminished. After a moment’s inspection, I found that the potato sacks’ strong fibers had been soaked in some kind of substance that I had mistaken for mold and rot the day before.
I rubbed my fingers over the mystery coating and held it up to my nose, sniffed. I detected no scent. “I wish I knew what it is. It would serve well at the palace. And it might be useful for other purposes.”
Batumar watched me with mild amusement. He often teased me that my first thoughts were always herbs. I suppose that was common enough for a healer.
I pulled our own destroyed burlap sack on my lap, fingering it as my stomach growled again. “Do we have any crystals to purchase food, my lord?”
On our island, people still used blue crystals in trade, mined with great effort in the poison desert, as was our ancient tradition. But in most of the world, gold coins were exchanged, a material not as precious, the coins easily struck.
“Our coin should be enough until we reach Ishaf,” Batumar said.
I nodded. In truth, going hungry for a day or two was the least of our worries. I tugged at a loose thread of burlap until it came free. “I wish I had a needle.” Now that I had thread.
Batumar reached into his boot and pulled out his dagger. He turned to the wall and cut a sliver from the rough plank, then pressed his blade into the thicker end, splitting the wood, but not all the way.
He handed it to me on his palm, sidling closer. “How is this?”
I grinned my answer and wedged the end of my thread into the split that gripped the thread tightly. And then I went to work on our food sack to repair the damage.
He leaned toward me as if to watch, placing a large hand above my knee, then caressing my thigh up and down in a soothing motion.
Boots slapped on wood outside as the crew went on with their work. Then people stopped by our cabin, talking in whispered voices. I could not make out the words but could hear the anger behind them. I did not like the way those men sounded. But, after a few moments, they hurried away.
“Should we go up on deck?” I asked when I finished with the sack.
Batumar nuzzled my ear as he pulled me into his embrace. I set aside my mending. His familiar scent relaxed me. He even smelled like a warlord: leather and steel.
I pressed against his body and let his heat warm me. “Should you not be helping?” Not that I wanted him to leave.
He ran his fingers over my hair. “We should stay out of sight as much as possible. Best they do not even remember that we are here.”
His warm hand moved down my arm. “If the captain needs me, he will send for me. His crew should be able to handle easy sailing like this. They are more likely to need help once we reach the storms.”
Already the winds were heavier, the waves tossing the schooner up, then dropping us down. Yet, so far, the sacks of potatoes beneath us stayed firmly anchored in place, thank the spirits.
I shifted away from a big lump that dug between my ribs. “At least we shall have more room as our journey progresses. These potatoes will be eaten by the men.”
Batumar kissed my neck. His strong fingers massaged my back, then moved to my side, then up until they rested under my breast. Suddenly I was breathless, my whole body tingling with anticipation.
The evening of Lady Lalandra’s summoning, he had not sent for me afterwards. The night before we left Karamur, he had insisted that I had enough rest. Then, in the mountain, we spent the night without being able to touch, wedged in a narrow tunnel. Now I was suddenly starving for his hands upon me. When his large palm covered my breast at last, I arched into its warmth.
He deepened the kiss, fully claiming my mouth. Then his hand trailed down, slipped under my tunic, his fingers moving to the waistband of my thudi. Heat rushed through my body and pooled low in my belly.
“Someday,” he said between kisses, “after the war, I shall take you on a sailing trip around the islands, on my own flagship.”
I enjoyed that thought very much. But only for a brief moment before I remembered the way I had left the High Lord’s Pleasure Hall.
Me and all the other concubines? I wanted to ask.
I would not. The High Lord owed them his protection and more. They were his duty, according to the ways of the Kadar. He had brought me on this journey, and that would have to be enough, even if he only brought me because he believed the enemy sought to kill me.
I wanted to ask what would happen when we returned to Karamur, but I had given in to my jealousies too much already. He loved me. I knew he did. But why will he not say it?
Suddenly, I realized that he had drawn back a little and was watching me.
“Are you unwell?” he asked, the heat in his eyes turning into concern.
He would think me such a fool if he knew all I had been thinking. “We should store up on rest. We will not have much once we reach the hardstorms and the waves start pitching under the ship in earnest.” I glanced toward the door, wishing I could leave for a few moments until I collected myself.
He misunderstood the gesture.
His lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Next time, my lady, we shall travel in a cabin with a lock on the door.”
A sharp rap on the door drowned out the last of his words.
“Up on deck!” Pek shouted outside. “Captain’s orders!”
Batumar reached into his boot and retrieved his dagger, handing it to me. “Block the door with potato sacks behind me. If anyone comes in…” He wrapped his fingers around mine as I held the dagger. “Aim for the heart.”
He leaned forward, mindful of the dagger, and brushed his warm lips against mine one last time, lingering but for a moment, then he was gone, leaving me alone in the cabin.
I did as he instructed, barring the door, then settled back on our uncomfortable bed with little to do but worry about him up on deck. I refused to go back to my thoughts of jealousy and be like a child who picked at a sore until it bled.
When the hunger grew worse, I drank. I had emptied one of my flasks on our journey through the mountain, and now, to ease my grumbling stomach, I kept drinking until I nearly emptied the other, but I knew we could refill our flasks from the freshwater barrels we had seen being loaded.
To relieve myself, I used the old bucket in the corner as we had before, then dumped the contents out the porthole. I preferred that to squatting over the side of the ship in full view of the pirates.
The rest of my time was filled with worries about how we would fare at the market of Rabeen, whether we would leave it as a free woman and man, or be left behind as slaves.
Dusk neared by the time Batumar returned, calling through the door so I would let him in.
When he said, “We reached Rabeen. I will take you to see the island,” I relaxed a little. At least he had not yet been seized. I straightened my clothes, then followed Batumar up to the deck, both of us alert for an attack.
But the pirates ran about their tasks, barely sparing us a cold glance. The Doomed was nearly in port.
In front o
f us, mud-brick dwellings mixed in with market stalls, covering most of the island, barely any land showing, so Rabeen looked as if the islanders had built their houses on top of a surfaced whale that could at any moment dip back under the sea.
I did not draw an easy breath until the ship had docked and we were on firm ground, still uncaptured. Only then did I allow myself to fully inspect our surroundings. The whole of Rabeen was but a single city, and the whole of the city was but a marketplace.
Batumar briefly placed a hand on my arm. “We must not draw attention to ourselves.”
On this, we fully agreed.
Beggar children ran around in flocks like honking geese. Seeing us depart a pirate ship, at first they did not approach, only watched us closely. But once they convinced themselves that we did not look like pirates, they swarmed around, begging for food. Two had no eyes; others had missing limbs.
Batumar had our food sack under his arm. The little beggars grabbed for that, then cried out with disappointment upon finding it empty.
I gave the ribbon from my hair to one little girl. The small, grimy hands of the others were everywhere. When they discerned that we had no more to give, they ran off for their next target.
I stared after them, wishing we could take them all back to Karamur. Maybe on the return journey.
“Were they left behind here by slavers because of their injuries?” I guessed that feeding them through a sea voyage would cost more than a slaver could get for them at the nearest city.
“Or else, their beggar lord maimed them himself.” Batumar scanned the colorful sea of people around us. “Good health in a beggar is a disadvantageous calamity.”
I could not fathom such cruelty. I shivered, but not from the wind that blew from the sea.
We passed a man in threadbare clothes, leaning against a pole, sleeping standing up, both hands missing from the wrist.
“And him?”
“A thief,” Batumar answered. “The first time, they cut off a hand, the second time, the other hand, the third time, they cut off the head.”
I stared at him.