The princess was by far the oldest. She looked to be at least two full cycles older than the others, but they were all grey of hair. They introduced themselves, giving fancy titles and honours. The one on the far left was Muwatesa, the Mistress of Mittata Hapas, and she wore a crown with a bushel of blackberries made from onyx. Next was Nesa, the Mistress of Harkis Kaldu, and her crown had a silver mountain lion. She wondered if she should have worn her lion skull after all, but knew that while they might like the mountain lion as a symbol, she doubted they would have wanted to see the skull of one resting on her head. Nesa was definitely the youngest present, as her hair still had a few flecks of dark black. And finally, there was Zidewa, who wore a crown with a copper eagle and called herself the Mistress of Damais Tiessar.
Damais Tiessar, Last Forrest, the words made her shudder, remembering the interrogator they had sent to her.
“My mother is the Mistress of Damais Tiessar,” he had said, though at the time, the words had no meaning to her. This was whom he had meant—his mother was one of the Five Sisters. She could see only a vague resemblance in the face. They had the same sharp jaw and dark eyes.
The women listened to her, and not with the same dismissive attitudes the kings had given her. For a moment, she thought that she was reaching them. After all, she had spent days thinking of the best way to phrase her plea, and Tuthalya was translating with as much passion as Tersh could have hoped for. They listened, nodded, and looked shocked and concerned at all the right places, and when she finished, she expected them to stand up and demand changes be made, but the princess merely yawned.
“Well, that was most entertaining; I do hope you speak to us again during your visit,” Tuthalya had translated, trying to soften the tone, but she had heard the way the princess had spoken, the condescension in her voice. She left the Queen’s Hall in a daze. She had hoped Tuthalya would be wrong. She had hoped the Sisters would listen, that if they could embrace the old ways, she might be able to save this land without resorting to the dark rituals…but Tuthalya had been right. There was only one way to accomplish her mission.
She entered her room and went to her skins and unfolded them carefully, the human skull grinning back up at her.
“Hello, Whisperer,” the accented voice was soft and unforgettable.
Tersh turned and saw her interrogator staring at her with those same dark eyes. Even here, out in the open, daylight flooding everything with light, his eyes were as black as fire knives. Tersh turned away and looked back at the large bronze ram in the centre of the square. She’d been trying to figure out why they had put a statue over a fire pit.
“What do you want?” Tersh clenched her jaw in an effort to keep from screaming at the man to leave.
“Only to apologize.”
Tersh couldn’t think of anything to say. Apologize? Had someone told him to apologize? Or was he doing it because he honestly felt sorry. She looked the man up and down, at his fine wool tunic and the copper eagle broach clasping his cape, the same symbol as his mother’s crown.
“So apologize.”
He gave a short bow of his head, the wind whipping his long black hair around, and Tersh could see a few strands of grey. In the dark of the dungeon, it had been hard to tell his age, but the few grey hairs and the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes told her he’d seen somewhere between three or four full cycles.
“I hope you can find a way to forgive me. What I did I only did for love of my land and duty to my mother. I am deeply sorry.”
“Why?”
He lifted his head, raising his eyebrows slightly in surprise. “Why…what?”
“Why are you sorry?” Tersh turned on him but not in anger; she was more grasped by curiosity at this point. “You did what you had to, as you see it, right? So why are you sorry?”
There was the shadow of a smile on his face. “I see now I had no cause to… do what I did.”
“Torture me.”
“Question you.”
Tersh turned away, starting to feel uneasy around him. “So, now you believe I am what I say I am.”
“Yes. It’s unfortunate for you, though. We would care about what you had to say far more if you were a spy.”
“Because then I could give you information about the kings?”
“Hmm…perhaps.” There was something about his tone that made Tersh look at him—really look at him. This man was trying to say something, something he was obviously afraid to say aloud.
The lord nodded towards the statue. “Have you figured it out yet?”
“Figured what out?” she asked cautiously.
“The bronze ram.”
Tersh looked back at the statue and shook her head.
“These are dangerous times, Whisperer. There’s no heir to the throne after the princess. She and her mother are so old. Both could die any day now. It’s a miracle the Queen is still with us…But you understand, without an heir…people get very… agitated.”
“I assume one of you will take over,” Tersh shrugged.
“I? Oh, never I. I am my mother’s eldest son, but I will not inherit the Damais Tiessar. That valley will pass to my niece, a girl who’s only five-years-old. No man holds power in this land.”
Tersh tried to detect bitterness in his voice, but all emotion seemed to have drained from him. “I met your mother,” Tersh ventured.
He smiled. “Pity for you.”
“She and the other Sisters don’t seem to know how well you speak the language of Mahat.”
“It’s better to have some secrets, no?”
“I don’t…We haven’t been properly introduced. You know my name—”
“Ah, how rude of me. My name is Zidante of Damais Tiessar I offer my friendship, if ever you need…help.”
“Thank you…” Tersh hesitated, not wanting to accept the offer, but hardly wanting to offend by denying it.
“It’s for traitors,” Zidante said finally. “The ram.”
And then she looked at it again and saw the subtle lines of a door on the side of the ram, so well fitted it was barely noticeable. And the fire beneath. And she understood. All too well she understood. When she finally recovered from her shock and turned back to Zidante, the young lord had disappeared.
Tersh felt uneasy the rest of the day. She wanted to go for a walk, but every time she saw someone glance her way, she couldn’t help but read into their stares and wonder what they were thinking. The silence of the castle had comforted her at first, but now she noticed the lack of laughter, and it made her feel even colder.
She couldn’t guess at everything Zidante had been trying to tell her. Was he trying to warn her not to go against the Sisters? Or was he simply trying to warn her to be careful if she did? And why say anything to her at all? If there was a plot against the queen and the princess, surely there was no sense in asking an outsider for help. She had no power, held no sway…Unless there were some who had listened to her warnings from the gods and believed her.
She was still angry at Tuthalya for not warning her about how she might be greeted by the people of Nesate, but Tuthalya was the only person to whom she could speak. As evening set upon them, she made her way to the room Tuthalya had been given. The first time she had gone there she couldn’t help but be slightly annoyed that his room was much larger, with a bigger fire and a softer bed, but she reminded herself that didn’t matter.
She pounded on the door, and almost instantly Tuthalya opened it. When he saw Tersh standing there he looked slightly disappointed.
“Oh, what is it?”
“Were you expecting someone?” Tersh looked up and down the empty hall covered in long shadows from the setting sun.
“Only my dinner,” Tuthalya laughed and finally opened the door wide enough for Tersh to enter. “Come in, come in.”
There was a small wooden table near the fire with a flagon of mead and two cups. Tersh took a seat in one of the chairs, ignoring the cups.
“I’ve just had a strange encoun
ter.”
“Oh?” Tuthalya sat across from her, looking on curiously.
“With Zidante, Zidewa’s son—”
“Hmm…Yes, I know him. He’s the only son of the Sisters in the capital. The rest are back in their valleys. Most of the sisters are weary of their sons, worried they’ll try to take power back from the women. Apparently, he’s quite the troublemaker,” Tuthalya reached for the flagon and poured a cup for himself.
“I’m not terribly fond of him,” Tersh frowned.
“What did he want?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know what he wanted, but I think he was warning me. I just can’t figure out what he was warning me about. I think though…I think he was trying to tell me there may be a plot against the Sisters.”
Tuthalya narrowed his eyes. “This is not a conversation to be had indoors.”
Tersh shrugged. “Even if someone is listening at the door, who can understand us?”
“Zidante, for one. And others know enough Mahat words. More still are not going to let on how much they understand. Either the Sisters are lying about people understanding the Mahat tongue, or are ignorant about how many can. This is a dangerous place, Whisperer. You shouldn’t even come here. We’re not meant to be friends.”
“Why not? As far as anyone knows I’ve come here because you’re my translator. Why can’t I be friends with my translator?”
Tuthalya leaned forward over the table, not a flicker of his usual smile on his face. “If you play both sides in a game, you always win.”
“Are we on opposite sides then?”
“As far as everyone in this valley is concerned? Absolutely. Have you seen the ram outside?”
Tersh just nodded.
“We need to be careful.”
“Why do you think he spoke to me at all?”
“Hmm…” Tuthalya stared into the fire awhile then took a sip of his mead. “I told the Sisters one of the reasons I betrayed the kings was because they did nothing to care for their people, not even to listen to the warnings of a Whisperer. That I found their dismissive attitudes troubling. I hoped it would have an effect of how the Sisters treated you, and I think it did.”
Tersh could still remember how interested they had tried to look in what she’d had to say, right until the final moment anyway, unlike in Hattute where she had been ridiculed from the start.
“More than that, I hoped it might make people question why they were so quick to dismiss you, even though I knew they’d try to put on a show of concern. A fairly convincing show, to be sure, but in the end what you told them was forgotten as soon as you walked out of the hall.”
“So you knew they wouldn’t care, no matter what I said?” Tersh frowned.
Tuthalya stared into his cup, swirling around the foamy mead. “I’d hoped so.”
Tersh felt a strange pain in her chest. “Why?”
“Because now you can be a rallying point. I wanted to plant the idea that you were a holy woman and that ignoring your warnings could lead to terrible consequences. That your message could be used.”
“Used as what?” She was getting more frustrated. She’d never seen this side of Tuthalya, keeping secrets from her, using her without letting her know what the plan was. This man was a schemer, and Tersh had never realized that before. She had thought they were supposed to be partners.
“A rallying point. There are a lot of unhappy people, a lot of people who…” he lowered his voice until he was so quiet Tersh could barely hear him, “who want the Sisters gone. If Zidante spoke to you, you better believe he is not happy.”
“So what should I do?”
“Be cautious, but be receptive. Let others seek you out. Just…” Tuthalya frowned, and looked genuinely worried. “Just make sure you say nothing that can be used against you. Just make sure you know whom you can trust.”
Tersh sighed, feeling a heavy weight on her chest. “Not such an easy task.”
“No, but I’m sure if the gods truly did choose you, it is a task you can manage. Now,” Tuthalya stood up with a start. “If that’s all, you ought to be going. I don’t want people suspecting we have a deeper relationship than interpreter.”
“Yes, all right,” Tersh got up as Tuthalya rushed her to do the door. She couldn’t help but look back at the two cups on the table and wonder how much more Tuthalya wasn’t telling her.
THE BLACK ISLES
YOU BUILD THE SHIP. I’LL BUILD THE CREW
He’d lost half of everything. Half of his cargo was gone. Half of his ship ruined. More than half his crew was dead. Samaki went to sleep and awoke every morning feeling the weight of that loss. There was no time to mourn his life or the lives of his lost crew, though. Every day was filled with work.
About a fourth of his cargo had been lost during the storm, the hull had leaked badly and some of the grain had spoilt. Another fourth was handed over to Vale and his family in exchange for lumber, tools, and manpower. It was an exorbitant price to pay, but Samaki didn’t feel annoyed as he tallied everything and handed the boxes and bundles over to Vale.
Today they were felling a tree for the new main mast. Tiyharqu was already at the tree when Samaki emerged from the house and stretched in the fresh morning air. Tiyharqu was in charge of everything, of course. Although Samaki knew the basics of ship making, Tiyharqu was a master. Until the Afeth was whole again, Samaki was not the captain. Tiyharqu was their leader now.
“This the one?” Samaki asked, reaching his friend and looking up at the tall evergreen tree.
“I would have liked a taller one, but we need one near the water, so this is the best we could find,” Tiyharqu patted the tree, which had been sheared of its lower branches the day before, as though it were a child she was proud of.
The plan was to cut the tree and ferry it over to the ship in the water. They would need two trunks, since nothing useable remained from either mast. Samaki could tell from the height this mast would definitely be shorter, which meant they would need a smaller sail, which would take away some of the Afeth’s speed, but what could he do?
“Shall I get the men ready then?” Samaki asked.
Tiyharqu shook her head. “Not yet. Socres is bringing some extra chains for us, and I don’t even see his ship yet,” her eyes scanned the horizon. Socres lived on the nearest of the surrounding islands and had been one of the first to come when Vale had gone out asking for extra tools and men who might be willing to help.
They walked over to the ship’s hull, which had been righted under much duress. It had taken the entire day and all hands to right her, and their celebration lasted only until the deck had come up from the water, and they saw the two half-eaten bodies still ensnared in the broken mast and rigging. They had emptied her out—what remained of their cargo was now being stored in a farm shed—and up until yesterday, they had been patching up leaks and replacing any beams that were too damaged to use.
They followed Sephian tradition and burned the bodies they found tangled in the ropes. Their faces were so damaged it was impossible to tell who they had been, but it gave them the chance to mourn the men they had lost and to move on from that terrible night. None of them really did though. The men worked hard and never complained, but every so often, he’d catch them staring off into the sea, and he’d see the pain in their eyes.
It had been harder to drag the ship onto the land. They had fashioned rails, but with no beasts of burden to help, they’d had to rely on manpower alone, and several days had passed before they’d succeeded. Still, she would have to be dry-docked while they put the masts in.
It was tediously long work cutting down trees and shaping wood. Samaki didn’t have the patience for it. Vale did not have many tools, certainly not enough for a dozen men to use to fix a ship. Samaki had been forced to trade Socres some of the few fine jewels he had left for some bronze they could use to fashion chisels and axes.
Vale had a machine that whittled wood into tools. A log was placed onto a spit, like a roast at
a grand feast. Above the log a string was attached to a spool, which then wound around the log and connected to a pedal. When Vale stepped on the pedal, the log would turn and the string would begin to scrape away the soft layers of wood. With that he could make a dozen or so handles for chisels and axes, as well as mallets.
The metal was worked quickly and without much care into wedges and chisel-heads. Tiyharqu spent a little extra time getting the axe blades right. She thought it might be more sensible to make a strong axe that wouldn’t need repairing.
Once the trees were cut down, the men swarmed over them like ants, chopping and snapping the branches off. Half the crew was currently twisting long grass and water reeds together to make ropes, which they would use to drag the logs through the water to their work area. After that, they spent days chipping away at the wood, smoothing and trimming those trunks into masts.
“When we get to Serepty, I’ll get her some paint,” Samaki nodded to the snake figurehead. Parts of it had been damaged, and fresh new wood was needed to replace its curves.
They went back to the homestead. The entire family was awake, the children were groggy and their usual energy nonexistent as their mother served them warm oat porridge. Samaki and Tiyharqu nearly always joined them for their meals, and sometimes helped Vale’s wife cook and clean if they weren’t too busy with the ship. Vale’s older sons frowned as they came in, apparently still wary of the strangers who’d pushed their way into their lives. Samaki couldn’t really blame the boys for their distrust, and Vale seemed oblivious to it.
“Will you be cutting my forest down today?” Vale asked, the hint of a smile on his face.
“Don’t worry, we’ll leave your wife and daughter some shade to rest under,” Samaki winked back. They joked, of course, but he knew Vale was just trying to hide the apprehension he felt. There weren’t too many trees on the small isle, and Tiyharqu had already cut down more than Vale had expected just to do repairs on the hull.
There was a knock on the door, and it pushed open to reveal one of Samaki’s crew. “Ship’s come in to dock.”
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 25