by Scott Rhine
“Aren’t you forgetting something? We have an invisible cat to pick up. I told him we were arriving today.”
“We can’t land in enemy territory,” Pinetto insisted.
“The panther’s not going to swim out to us. What about Tamarind fortress? The city’s on a rocky island in the middle of the river, but there are high, narrow bridges to each side. There shouldn’t be many soldiers left there since the Executioners are tied up in Silverton and Center.”
The wizard sighed. “I’ve been awake all night. How long will the demon take to get to us?”
She shrugged. “Our communication was a little vague. Once I call his name, it could be an hour, or he could wait until sundown to arrive. He’s a little unpredictable—the whole cat mystique. You can take the hammock while Tashi and I go ashore.”
“You won’t need my power blasts?”
“I have my own blast,” she said, tapping the tuning fork around her neck.
“You might take that writ of passage from the Pretender just in case, if he hasn’t sent word to the world to kill you on sight.” He paused before adding, “There, was that gloomy enough for you?”
“Thanks, I actually feel a little better.”
Chapter 34 – Deals
Pinetto couldn’t sleep long. Tamarind Fortress was a ghost town. Despite the guards and the witch being in signaling range, he was terrified that someone was hiding on shore or one of the criminals would break loose. Worse, the dragoness could be lurking in the caves above them, watching.
He needed more of the criminals working for him instead of against him. Pinetto climbed down to the hold. What he saw there outraged him. Three guards were playing cards with Baba Nesu. The old man was no longer dressed in rags and only a token chain held one arm to the table. They were using spools of silk thread they’d brought for trade as chips. “What are you doing?”
“Passing the time in a civilized manner,” Baba Nesu said smoothly. He was balding, with a trustworthy face and a salt-and-pepper beard. One of the guards handed the old man a cup of tea.
If it weren’t for the life-or-death nature of their quest, Pinetto might have laughed. “You, me, up on deck. Now.”
The prisoner shrugged, lifted the table and slid his chain out, and filled his pockets with his spool winnings. When they were alone on deck, Pinetto said, “Let’s start with the premise that you’re my prisoner.”
The old man shrugged. “I could escape any time I want.”
Pinetto shook his head and pulled out a dart. “I don’t think so.”
“What’s that stain on the deck?” asked Nesu.
The wizard looked down and chuckled. “A dragon tried to rip Tashi’s balls off. He’ll be fine. I’m glad I don’t have a mother-in-law . . .”
The old man had vanished. He heard someone cry out on the dock and ran to investigate. Nesu was pinned to the wooden planks by an unseen force. Pinetto smiled as he slowly climbed down and winked at where he thought Bagierog to be. “You were saying?”
“Please, release me. I’m a harmless old man.”
“You’ve never hurt anyone?” Pinetto challenged.
“No.”
“Everyone else on this ship has, and we’re good at it. I understand you’re not a combatant. I won’t make you go back to Center to fight; however, you were brought here to help us, and help us you shall. Where were you planning to go to? You don’t even have any money.”
“I have a stash in the hills nearby. Plus, the thread I took from the hold is valuable further south if you know where to trade it.”
“Why?”
The old man winked. “I’ll tell you if you let me go.”
“We need you to get us past the Crooked Isle at the other end of this river, both in with this ship and out with the others we need. Do that, and we’ll see.”
The man paled. “Pretend to be smugglers and pay the bribe. Say nothing of your true mission. I can handle the transaction for you, but don’t force me back to the Archanos islands.”
“Why not?”
“I was involved in a business deal before my capture. I took delivery of some . . . alchemical items, and the payment was confiscated by the Imperial troops as back taxes. Now, my contact has spread the word that I kept both.”
“Several governments have hunted you for twenty years, and now you’re afraid? We can protect you.”
“Word would get to her; it always does. You don’t cross alchemists. I can pay you with magical items. No one would notice my absence for days.”
“I swore an oath to the emperor. We have to rescue the people of Center from the Pretender. We’ll work out the terms of your release on Crooked Isle. For now, I need your word that you’ll help us faithfully and not try to flee.”
“Gemstones?” offered Nesu.
Pinetto’s hair crackled with static forces. “Promise or I’ll gag you for the rest of the trip.”
“I swear to serve you faithfully, until you clear the Crooked Isle.”
“If you break your vow, the zookeeper can track you down and the witch has a pet that loves to eat fresh tongue.”
Nesu swallowed hard. “A businessman lives by his word.”
“Back on board.”
When the convict was gone, Pinetto said, “Thanks. I owe you for this favor. I don’t want you charging the witch for my mistake, Bagierog.”
“Guess again.”
“Which god are you?” He didn’t bow because he needed to be able to run. The wizard turned his cape around so that the ward intervened between him and the Dawn creature.
“One who owes you a favor,” said Archanos.
“I need nothing more than to return to my wife as soon as possible.”
“That may be beyond even my powers. I must pay you something, so I swear to avenge you against anything that kills you, man or beast.”
Pinetto thought of several comebacks, but settled for, “You don’t keep things so quid pro quo with Sarajah. Are you uncomfortable with an Imperial prophet?”
“There has been a history of duplicity.”
“Do you wish for me to step down?”
“On the contrary, I want to encourage you. We’re allowed to intercede a little for prophets, and I want to take full advantage.” After a few beats, the voice continued tentatively in a different vein. “A little bird tells me you’ve reordered my book and scribes are busily copying it.”
“I meant no disrespect, only to teach each reader at the proper level.”
“None taken. From the marks on your eyelids, I see you grasped all of it.”
“Enough to have some interesting experiments.”
“People are worshipping me in Center. I can feel them reading my words. I heard Pagaose’s rendition of your spell from here. You’re different; you’re changing things. We’re going to need that for the next war.”
“Next?”
“Against Intaglios and the remainder of the old guard. You need to start gathering weapons now: new wizards, green-eyed immunes, and magic items. I have a stockpile of powerful ones in my fortress on Ashter Island.”
“Named after your wife. You must love her.”
“She defends my stronghold still, but I can’t join her. Osos prevented me from returning as part of the terms of my surrender. I need you to start transporting the old weapons to Center. We have almost forty-nine years to prepare.”
“Yes, Lord.” Pinetto bowed his head. After a few beats, he asked, “Why don’t you go with us? Everyone will ask me.”
“Tell the ones who matter and can keep a secret that I am now allergic to certain metals in the ocean water.”
Pinetto knew better than to ask which ones.
Archanos asked, “What would you have as a reward for this task?”
“A simple thing.”
“Oh ho. What do you wish: power, knowledge, riches?”
“The cure for the Eutherosian plague. Because their goddess is dead, the punishment should be lifted. Her people deserve a second chance.�
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“You quote my own tenets back to me.”
“They’re good ones.”
Pinetto heard Archanos sigh. “I will do this when I hold the Amber Scythe again.”
“Is there anything I should tell the priestess? She’ll be upset she missed you.”
“Little Sera is above all else a pragmatist. I don’t dare get near that damn sword her consort has. The metal is mingled, corrupted by its last use. The blood of the monster it killed calls out for mine.”
“You want me to find a way to get the Defender out of circulation?”
“Hah! A born trader. What would you ask in return?”
“Lift Tashi’s curse.”
“That is Serog’s weird. Even I won’t fight my mad mother-in-law. I’m only venturing this close to her territory because she’s busy feeding now. Bending the winds to her will is exhausting. Her rage can work miracles, but when the storm is spent, she is weak.”
“Very well, I have one other idea, but I fear you may strike me dead for speaking it.”
“Now I must hear it. For your many services, I will never smite thee for thy words.”
Chewing his lip, Pinetto said, “The emperor has instituted a new ordinance to avoid a repeat of the Myron incident. His rule can be ended by unanimous vote of the council.”
“This is wise.”
“Would you propose the same thing to the Council of the Gods?”
The air grew thick. Ropes of lightning danced between Pinetto’s fingertips and the invisible one’s hand. The wizard channeled energy from the borders into his shield ward. Even so, the longer locks of his hair were scorched. “You compare me to that gibbering fool?”
There was Door energy here as well! Pinetto drew upon it to shore up the wires that were melted into his cloak. “No. I’m saying that even Osos didn’t start evil. That much power can corrupt anyone, and you have more now than he did. It’s what you fought against, Lord. Please consider it.”
The presence folded in on itself and departed. Pinetto was alone on the fused and blackened sands. Everything except a narrow cone of protection around him looked like it had been through a forest fire, like the Scar at Center. He waited for the ground to cool before he walked back to the ship.
****
Sarajah didn’t climb aboard the Mallard until nightfall. She complained the whole way up the ladder. “I had to use a favor to get the panther to sail with us. Now we only have two.”
“What was I supposed to do?” asked Tashi.
“Menace him a little. He respects you.”
“He saved my life. I don’t repay comrades in arms by . . .” He sniffed the air and drew the Defender. It quivered in his hand.
Pinetto said, “The boss is gone. Please put that thing away. The six-armed freak infected the Defender somehow when it killed her. Archanos couldn’t get near it.”
“What’s that smell?”
“We had . . . words.”
“What did you do?” the seeress demanded.
Pinetto recounted the exchange in hushed tones, summarizing with, “He won’t kill me, but I may have pushed the limits. My cape is history, and I had to have my uncle trim my singed hair afterward.”
Tashi sheathed the magical sword. “I didn’t know he was a barber.”
“He’s not. The crew saw me get hit by the lightning. No one else will come near me now; they’re afraid I’m bad luck.”
“Sailors are a superstitious lot,” said Tashi reaching into his pouch for salt to throw.
“Put your goggles on,” she insisted. “Every time you recite his exact words, your eye tattoos glow.”
“Great,” Pinetto said, heeding the advice. “At least we have a destination now. If we bring back his weapons, he won’t hunt down Imperials anymore.”
“Your kind heart is going to get us all killed,” said Sarajah.
The panther leapt onto the deck. “Let’s not waste time.”
“You didn’t want to sail,” complained Tashi. “We couldn’t drag you on before.”
“Rivers are safer,” said Bagierog. “Besides, you heard him, the boss sent us on a mission.”
Chapter 35 – The Tamarind River
“At this rate, the journey from Center to the Tamarind River delta should take a week,” said the fisherman piloting the Mallard. The trip downstream was positively placid compared with the constant dangers of the Inner Sea. They met only a couple slow-moving barges from Innisport that they had to steer around. Tashi spent a great deal of time in the hammock they’d installed while at Center.
Pinetto said, “We need to stop at Wayside, the little town on the Bablios side of the Friendship Bridge.”
“Why is that important?” asked Tashi.
“This close to the capital of Zanzibos, they’ll have an embassy,” Baba Nesu replied. “That means they can give us an assortment of flags to replace the Pretender’s, as well as papers that allow us to carry weapons and hunt privateers. To survive, we’ll need to be able to change nationalities at the drop of a hat.”
“I’ll discuss that with the plague-runner after I test him,” said Pinetto.
“Why would a Dawn creature let itself get thrown into the emperor’s dungeon indefinitely?”
“What better way to guarantee a steady food supply of Door energy and spy on Center.”
“That’s tedious and dishonorable.”
“Gods have a different point of view, sweetie,” Sarajah said.
“Wayside will also have military intelligence officers. We can exchange information. I’m sure no one here knows about the siege of Center yet.” Pinetto stood by the door to the wheelhouse, arms folded. His cloak had burn marks in several places and no longer fluttered with a life of its own. “In the meantime, Nesu has agreed to fill us in on the ins and outs of the alchemy business.”
Baba Nesu grimaced until Sarajah batted her eyelashes.
“He’s right. It is a business. The margins are thin. If you aren’t an alchemist yourself, there are two ways to make money: control the supply of key ingredients or control the transportation of goods to market. The Arinaw clan on the Crooked Isle controls the second.”
“How?” asked Sarajah.
“The islands are metal-starved. You can only find it on the mainland. However, with the plague-land restrictions, we can’t loot metal from the nearby ruins. The closest other path to civilization is the Tamarind River, and the Crooked Isle blocks that. If you want iron, you have to visit the Exchange. Their stalls take in Sacred Amber or other magic items and pay people a few pieces of iron as big as your thumbnail. It takes over a week of scavenging for an islander to earn enough to make an eating dagger.”
“Fifty work hours for a few iron bits,” said Tashi. “Seems unfair.”
“Worse, they take the goods north and sell them for several gold weeks.”
“Wait, cylinders of iron stamped with the number one?” asked Pinetto.
“Yes.”
Pinetto laughed. “I think we know where all the small-denomination coins from Kiateros went.”
Sarajah smiled. “The ultimate achievement in alchemy: transforming iron into gold.”
“The bastards of the Arinaw clan use the exchange to rule the outer islands,” spat Nesu.
Tashi wrinkled his forehead. “If you hate them so much, kill them.”
“Someone greedier would take over within a month. The islanders have been slaves and scavengers for so many centuries they wouldn’t know how to run their own country. The king of Zanzibos keeps the Arinaw from abusing the natives too much, just because he doesn’t want to lose his cut.”
“So how did you make your money?” asked the wizard.
“The obvious materials like tiger’s-eye and amber are well controlled by now. What remains is to find interesting alchemical recipes and control the ingredients before they become well-known: nautilus shells, cuttlebones from an albino squid, honey made from poppies, rum mixed with blood, or slave bones distilled to their essence. Some things
decay to dust, but the residue left behind can have interesting properties. I remember a frog that could put men into a deathlike state for twelve hours.”
“Why did you want the silk thread?”
Nesu said, “Ah, gossamer.”
“The fabric?” asked Pinetto.
“Exposed to the right process, colorless silk becomes translucent. I use the thread because pre-woven fabric can only be so big and fit in the kettles alchemists employ.”
“Why would anyone care about almost see-through fabric?” asked the wizard.
Tashi cleared his throat and loosened his collar. “Among other things, allowing light into a room you don’t want anyone seeing into, and . . . ladies’ night garments made of gossamer can be most alluring.”
Nesu chuckled. “A lot of bureaucrats who wouldn’t take a bribe would look the other way or warn me about a raid if I gave them a few yards of gossamer. Nobles pay quite well for the fabric. It’s a niche market, but I did well with it as a side business, as long as the empire and kings didn’t have to be cut in on the profits.”
“Why does everything with magic come down to killing or sex?” complained Pinetto. “Why not something that sucks salt out of seawater so that people can drink it?”
“That would make it too hard to control the slaves. Water rationing keeps them docile,” Nesu noted.
“You forgot money in your magical trinity. I’m sure they make sesterina, too,” said Tashi.
“Yes,” said Nesu, squinting. “I don’t know the recipe for that, though. Warlord Zorog has that monopoly.”
Tashi and Pinetto looked at each other. Sarajah chuckled. “Businessmen who are demons or want to be. Nice.”
“How do you know that?” asked Nesu.
“The name ends in -og,” explained Sarajah.
“Oh, all the more reason not to tell anyone, even the Babliosians, what your true mission is. Word will leak out to their brothers across the river, and they won’t let your ships come up the river.”
“What do we tell them? I don’t lie well,” admitted Pinetto.
“Tell them something close to the truth. Play the part of eccentric, religious zealots on a wild quest. Imply that the emperor signed your papers to get rid of you. Invent some holy pilgrimage that people will consider harmless, and let them tax you excessively on the goods you bring back. Then they won’t suspect that the real cargo is the ships full of pirates. How many will you need, by the way?”