The Captive Kingdom

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  I’d slept for some of the day, and though more sleep might come eventually, that wasn’t my plan. It was time to figure out a way to fight back.

  I was surprised to see Wilta at the wheel when I returned to the deck the following morning. Fink was seated against the bow with a handful of biscuits and turned back only long enough to give a friendly wave.

  Wilta smiled at me. “I was up early and Mott was still here. He looked so exhausted, I offered to take over for a while.”

  “Thank you.” I walked beside her to check our position according to the compass. She was a good navigator — we were exactly where we should be.

  “Mott told me you placed a lodestone by their compass. Clever.”

  “That was Tobias’s cleverness, not mine.” I sighed. “Too many details are escaping me. I don’t feel particularly clever anymore.”

  “Because you’re thinking like Jaron again.” I turned to see Fink staring at us. I hadn’t even realized he was listening. “I’ve seen you as him, and I’ve seen you as Sage. The Prozarians think like Sage, saying as little as possible, holding their secrets close. Keeping things unexpected.” He took another bite of his biscuit and chewed it a moment before adding, “The problem is that Sage also does the unexpected. So the best possible plan would be to think like Jaron, because nobody will expect that.”

  Wilta chuckled. “Does his logic make everyone dizzy, or just me?”

  “Most people give up hours before he finishes talking.”

  “‘Sage’ is the name the captain called you when they first brought you on board the Shadow Tide. Who is Sage?”

  “The other half of me, I suppose. But that can be even harder to understand.”

  She smiled softly. “I don’t think you’re so hard to understand. You value loyalty and sacrifice and dedication, and you expect the same from others. But few people feel these things as intensely as you do, so few people behave with the same intensity.”

  I leaned against the rail and stared out across the sea. “Too often, that intensity creates a blindness in me. I expect so much from others that I fail to see them as they really are. And all the while, every flaw in me radiates for the world to see.”

  “The people on this boat believe in you, Jaron. They could have raced back to Carthya in fear for their lives, but they didn’t. They chose to follow you because they believe you can bring them home again in victory.”

  I chuckled. “They came because they believe something will go wrong and that I’ll need their help.”

  Fink put in, “That’s why I stowed away. I absolutely knew something would go wrong.”

  Wilta laughed too. “All right, then, perhaps I am the only one who believes in you. And you, of course. Surely you never doubt yourself.”

  I didn’t respond, and after a moment, she noticed my leg. “You’ve bled through your bandage again.”

  I tightened up the bandage, and my thoughts inevitably returned to Roden. I wondered if I hadn’t chained him to the deck, if he’d also have tried to follow me, just as Wilta did. I might have doomed him.

  I worried even more about Amarinda. Despite Wilta’s insistence that Amarinda would be all right, I had seen for myself how Wilta had been treated. Tobias had seen it too. It was no wonder that he was so angry with me.

  Minutes later, Imogen came onto the deck. Her eyes were wary upon Wilta, then fell to my leg. “Has Tobias looked at this?”

  “He’s not awake yet.”

  Imogen glanced back to Wilta. “I can take the wheel. You probably need a rest.”

  She probably didn’t, but Wilta took the cue and stood aside for Imogen. “That’s very kind, thank you. I will go lie down now.”

  After we were alone, I said to Imogen, “There’s nothing between Wilta and me.”

  “Not on your part. She may feel differently.”

  “There’s nothing, Imogen.”

  Imogen met my eyes. “What you and I share is not so thin that I will react to every young woman who flirts with you, or offers you compliments, or seeks to become your favorite. I’ve seen it a thousand times before, and it does not bother me. But Wilta is different. She isn’t looking to you for an improvement in her social status, to grant her a title, or even to be able to boast to her friends that she earned a smile from you. She’s asking you to risk your life for her people.”

  “As she risked her life on that ship for me.”

  I limped over to the helm and placed one hand over Imogen’s as she held the wheel. “We must be cautious around her, I agree. But right now, all I know is that I must get to Belland ahead of Captain Strick. Wilta knows where it is. I don’t. We need her help if we are going to reach Belland first.”

  Reluctantly, she nodded, and I was sure I even saw a faint smile. “Agreed. But next time we travel, I get to choose the place.”

  I kissed her cheek, then said, “I will gladly agree to that.”

  By then, the others on the fishing boat began to join us on the deck, including Mott, who quietly resumed his navigation. Tobias took one look at my leg and said, “The bandage isn’t enough. Does anyone have a needle?”

  “There’s no needle.” Mott made a face. “Why would anyone here have a needle?”

  Tobias turned to me with an apology in his eyes, but before he could speak, I shook my head. “You will not cauterize that injury! Do you know how much that would hurt?”

  “It can’t be worse than the wound itself.”

  “Well, I don’t intend to find out.”

  “I have a needle,” Wilta said, hurrying up to the deck. She lifted her skirt, where right along the edge, a small needle was stuck through the fabric.

  “Do you always keep a needle there?” Imogen asked.

  “All the women in Belland do. It’s easy to lose them otherwise.”

  Imogen turned to Tobias. “If you sew up that wound, will he still have use of his leg?”

  Tobias shrugged. “I’m afraid so.”

  Her shoulders fell with disappointment and I frowned at her. “I have to see this through, Imogen.”

  “I know. But I don’t have to like it.”

  Tobias accepted the needle from Wilta, and some thread that Imogen gave to him from a loose hem in her dress. We went to the farthest end of the ship for him to sew up my leg, but even then, when he helped me limp back to the group, Fink said, “I learned some new words.”

  For Imogen’s sake, I quickly added, “In my own defense, I’ve used those words before. It’s not my fault that he only heard them for the first time here.”

  I thought that was rather funny, but Imogen did not.

  “You need to get out of the morning sun,” she said to Fink.

  He cocked his head. “Stop treating me like a child. I’m old enough to stay for this conversation.”

  “But I need help below,” Wilta offered, winking at Imogen as she followed a reluctant Fink down the ladder.

  Which left me with Imogen, Tobias, and Mott, who led me back into the same interior wardroom where we had met last night.

  I opened the conversation first with Mott. “You were awake for most of last night. Shouldn’t you still be asleep?”

  He quickly countered, “Did you sleep?”

  “I rested.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  With a sigh, I placed the scope onto the wardroom table and showed them the engravings in the brass. “This isn’t a code, or at least, not one meant to be deciphered. In ancient times, all royal houses had a symbol known only to themselves. It was used in written communication much like a secret handshake might be used in person.”

  “Or the secret word to get inside the palace gates,” Imogen said.

  “Exactly!” I pointed to three symbols running along the top of the scope. At the farthest from the eyepiece was a symbol of a circle with lines dividing it into equal thirds. “This is Carthyan. It represents the original three rulers of our land, all equals. Carthya has little significance to the outside world, so I think it might be placed
here on the scope for a reason, maybe for the number three, since there are three slots in the scope.”

  Tobias tilted his head, skeptical. “What are the other two symbols before it?”

  “I don’t know the first, but the middle one is Mendenwal’s.” It was a triangle, their depiction of strength, or of the greatness of their country. I only knew that because the king of Mendenwal had once gotten into an argument with my father over which country had the best ancient symbol. It remained to this very day the stupidest argument I’d ever heard.

  Below the three symbols were many others, none of which I recognized. “I have a theory,” I continued. “I think the three symbols on top are a message for how to use this scope, but the presence of all the symbols must be significant. If this leads to the greatest treasure ever known upon these lands, perhaps the message of the scope is that all countries must come together as one to find it.”

  Then I lifted Captain Strick’s notebook onto the table. “According to this, the Prozarians haven’t got the translation, but the first lens led them to Belland. They believe the second lens is there, and apparently it is.” I turned a few more pages. “The person claiming to be Darius made an agreement with them in exchange for the second lens.”

  “Could it be him?” Imogen asked.

  I turned a few more pages. “The only entry about Darius is here, like notes she made to tease out the truth of his story. I’m convinced now that my brother cannot be alive, because if it was him, he would have told her details only he and I would know. All that’s here are his basic facts. And then she listed what is supposedly the official story of how he came to Belland, and it’s equally sparse on details.”

  Mott didn’t seem concerned about that. “The lack of detail is no evidence either way about your brother. Strick never intended for you to see these pages.”

  “It isn’t only that. For Darius to still be alive, consider all the questions that must be answered.” I leaned forward. “If Darius is in Belland, then he must have been at the castle up until the time that Conner put his plan into effect.” I paused there, trying to rid myself of any thoughts of my parents. I still ached whenever I talked about my family’s deaths. I supposed in some way, I always would. “So why did Darius leave Carthya, and why did he choose Belland as a refuge? Did he leave with the second lens for the scope, or did he acquire it in Belland? Furthermore, someone is buried in Darius’s grave, someone who looked very much like him. Who is that, and where is his family? It simply does not make sense that Darius could be alive.”

  Mott nodded in agreement. “Darius would only have left if Conner had made that part of his planning. But I can’t think of a single reason he would have done that.”

  “Agreed.”

  Imogen leaned forward. “So our plan for Belland is not to greet a brother, but to stop an imposter.” She pointed at the notebook. “I’m curious. What did Strick write about Darius?”

  I shrugged and opened to that page. “As I said, there isn’t much: his date of birth and my father’s name, and his current description, all of which could be learned by one glance at his portrait and a few questions to any passing Carthyan.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That, I believe, is where the facts end. The rest is a fine story of fiction. Most of it is the way Darius got to Belland in the first place. Strick refers to Conner only as ‘the conspirator.’ She claims that he wanted the older son left alive to protect the second lens. But she doesn’t give any explanation for how or why he would have it.”

  Mott shook his head. “Conner never mentioned the scope or any lens. I certainly didn’t know everything he was doing, but I’m sure I would have known about that.”

  Imogen pressed her lips together, then said, “Wait here.” She darted out of the room and went belowdecks, then returned less than a minute later with the shoulder bag I’d had on board the Red Serpent.

  “I rescued this on the night of the attack as well, thinking something important might be in it. You can imagine my disappointment when I only found Conner’s old journal. But I’ve been going through it myself today. He wrote about everything — his opinion of the way your father ruled the kingdom, his plans for a false prince, and how he believed he would one day rule Carthya. But never once does he mention the scope, Darius, or anything that might have involved him.”

  Mott said, “If that is true, then there should be no reason to believe your brother is alive.”

  “Agreed,” I said. There certainly was no reason to believe it, yet deep in my gut, I knew things would not be so simple once we reached Belland. They never were.

  Hours later, everyone on board had gathered to the deck, passing the long afternoon with various activities. Mott was at the helm. Tobias was reorganizing the few medical supplies he still had. Westler was teaching Fink to fish, though they had yet to catch anything large enough to eat. Imogen and Wilta sat together studying Conner’s journal and comparing it with Strick’s notebook. After so much time poring over the journals together, they seemed to be forming a tentative friendship.

  I sat alone, staring out across the sea, thinking of Darius and how desperately I missed him, in some ways more than my parents because we used to be so close. It worried me that I might miss him so much, I would let that desire to have him back again taint my opinion of whether this person I would meet on Belland was really him.

  I worried just as much that it might truly be him. Imogen’s words from the previous night still echoed in my ears, that Darius had not saved me when he’d had the chance. It was true; he had sat beside my father in the fine carriages that drove right past me as I stood on the street to watch them. I wanted to believe he had never seen me. But deep inside, I knew he had.

  “Land!” Fink cried.

  I leapt to my feet and joined him at the bow. There was land ahead, though at this distance, we couldn’t see many details.

  “Is it Belland?” Tobias asked Wilta.

  She stood and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “I think so. But we’re still far away.”

  Within another hour, Wilta confirmed that this was Belland. She explained that the country existed on a narrow neck of land jutting out from the mainland and was cut off from other countries by the volcano that had once formed Belland. Steep, tree-lined slopes descended from the volcano, then gave way to lower hills, which flattened into a pebble beach with larger rocks dotting the area. We saw five large ships with Prozarian flags docked at a harbor where the greatest concentration of the population likely was. We approached from the south, where there were no Prozarian ships, nor any signs of life.

  Tobias stood at the bow of the deck and stared toward the land. “How long until we arrive?”

  Mott held up a hand to the wind. “It’ll be a few more hours, if the breeze remains steady. I want to stay to the south and hope we’re not noticed.”

  Despite all the excitement of seeing land, Imogen had continued studying the journals. She looked up only long enough to observe, “The interior of the country looks too dense for travel. If our movements must be kept to the beaches, we’ll find it difficult to go anywhere without being noticed.”

  Wilta turned to her. “There are trails everywhere, connecting the beaches to the hills and even to the peak of the volcano. I can show you the most secret ways to get where you want to go.”

  “Will it be safe for you?” Imogen asked. “If you’re found by the Prozarians, what will happen?”

  Wilta’s hands began to tremble. “I’ll have to face them sooner or later. I won’t remain in hiding here while my people are in so much danger.”

  “We’re going to the Prozarians?” Until then, I had thought Westler was napping, but his head shot up so rapidly, I wondered if he had momentarily died and his spirit had suddenly flown back into his body. Westler dropped his fishing pole on the deck and wandered back to the navigation. “I thought they all died from the plague.”

  Mott joined him and gently took control of the wheel.
“We’re going to Belland, remember?”

  “I agreed to take you there, but I will not remain anywhere that is infested with Prozarians.” He shook his head. “And if the lot of you have more than feathers for brains, you will reconsider your plans.”

  “You’ve encountered them before?” Tobias asked.

  He shuddered with the memory. “Almost twenty years ago. I fled to the sea and haven’t returned home since. From what I hear, my former home is nothing but a wasteland now. Back then, the Prozarians were conquerors. They’d consume every resource in a territory, then move on. If the Prozarians have returned, nowhere is safe.”

  Wilta said, “Belland is an ancient land. Others have come before, hearing rumors of a great treasure, but without the Devil’s Scope and the first lens, they had no idea where to begin. It’s different now, with the Prozarians. They will not leave until they get the second lens.”

  “The very reason we should not be going to Belland,” Imogen said. “If Darius will give them the second lens in exchange for Jaron, that’s the last place you should go.”

  “If I don’t go, their arrangement with Darius ends, and they will kill him,” I said. “Captain Strick assured me of that.”

  “And you promised to help us.” Wilta turned to me. “You said the Prozarians took five crates of weapons off your ship. Is there any chance of getting those back and using them ourselves?”

  Questions began flooding my mind. “Where do the Prozarians keep their weapons? Where do they sleep and meet together?”

  “Everything happens on their ships,” Wilta said. “One crate will probably be given to each ship.” Her face fell. “If we could only get one crate, it would be enough, but the ships are very well guarded.” Wilta closed her eyes as if lost in a memory, then seemed to shake it off. “If you could find your brother, maybe he’ll know what to do.”

  I took a deep breath, desperate to know the answer, and afraid of what it might be. “You told me that my brother was here. Do you know him?”

  “No, he keeps to himself most of the time. But he is there.”