Encrypted (14 page)

“
Are you ready to go,
ma’am?”

“
Go?” Tikaya glanced over
the railing. The ship had ground to a halt against ice too thick to
break, but marines still hustled about, piling gear next to a
hoist. A gangly grinning private surged through a hatch
leading—being led by—eight thickly furred gray and white dogs.
“Now?”

“
Yes, ma’am. You’re part
of the scouting party. We’re expecting trouble, so you’re going in
first with me and a dozen others under Lieutenant Commander Okars’s
lead.”

“
You’re
expecting
trouble?” Why
would they include her if that was the case? Weren’t they supposed
to be keeping her from being killed?

Agarik pointed at the distant buildings. “No
smoke. Fire is crucial for warmth up here. No smoke means the
town’s been deserted. Or worse. Might be the Nurians again, and if
any are around, we’ll need a translator to interrogate them.”

Dread curled in the pit of her stomach. Not
only did she not want to see any more Nurians, but she surely did
not want to help with a brutal Turgonian interrogation.

“
You’ve got to come at
some point anyway, so the captain says now.” Agarik gave her an
apologetic shrug. “We’ll protect you. We scouts are well
trained.”

“
No doubt. You found me
and dragged me off my parents’ plantation without
trouble.”

He winced.

“
Sorry,” she said. Agarik
was the closest thing she had to an ally amongst the marines, and
if he had not found her, another would have, so she could hardly
blame him.

He pointed to the rucksack. “Want to check
that? I grabbed your clothes and some pencils and blank journals.
Then there’s standard issue gear for this climate: medical kit,
snow goggles, crampons, canteens, blanket, and a hygiene and
shaving kit.”

“
Shaving kit? As cold as
it is up here, I’m not sure I want to remove any of the little body
hair I have.”

He did not smile at the
joke. Instead he watched her with curious intensity, as if willing
her to understand something. Then she got it. Shaving kit.
Razor
.

Agarik’s gaze shifted toward Ottotark, who
stood by the hoist, directing the lowering of a dog sled.

“
I see,” Tikaya breathed.
“You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

Agarik hesitated a second,
then said, “Standard issue gear,” which she took to mean he
probably
would
get in trouble for doing something as stupid as arming a
prisoner, but it would likely be seen as negligence rather than
treason. A lesser crime with a lesser punishment, she
hoped.

“
Thank you,
Corporal.”

He saluted her, fist to chest. “Ma’am.”

“
I think you can call me
Tikaya at this point.”

“
Yes, ma’am.”

* * * * *

Powdery snow skidded sideways as wind
scoured the ice field. The icy crystals needled Tikaya’s neck as
she crunched along behind the squad of marines. For the
seventy-third time, she adjusted her wool scarf and cap, wondering
why the secret to the gear’s effectiveness eluded her. A wan sun
burned in the sky, but its arc remained low on the southern
horizon, and it provided no warmth. At least the bulky goggles
smashing her spectacles against the bridge of her nose warmed her
cheeks somewhat, though the main purpose of the darkened lenses was
to protect from the sunlight glinting off ice and snow.

Despite her discomfort, determination kept
her feet moving as quickly as those of the scouts. Even before
Rias’s story, she had daydreamed of translating the language and
bringing awareness of it to the greater archaeological community.
Now, she had a more compelling reason to learn as much about the
runes as she could. Quickly. Since the Nurians had deprived her of
the original clues, she would have to find new ones inland. It
struck her as odd that she resented the assassins more for stealing
the rubbings than for trying to kill her.

Tikaya peered over her
shoulder. She still did not know if the Nurians had returned to
their ships or had holed up on the
Emperor’s Fist
somewhere.

Agarik, bringing up the rear, asked,
“Problem, ma’am?”

“
Just wondering how far
back Rias and the others will be.”

The ironclad, its black hull a dour blot
against the stark white world, rose a couple miles behind, and she
could no longer pick out the men and dog sled teams assembling in
its shadow.

“
An hour back or so for
the main party. As for Five...” Agarik might know who Rias was now,
but he was careful to use the number instead of a name. “I heard
him and the captain arguing just before we left, and, uhm, Bocrest
told him he could shove—er, he had to carry the blasting sticks, so
he’ll be in the rear.”

Tikaya groaned, knowing that argument had
been her fault. She should not have complained about Ottotark.
“Blasting sticks? Are those practitioner-made or the unstable
alchemical kind?”

“
We don’t use anything
magical.”

She groaned again. One thoughtless comment,
and now Rias had to traverse the slick ice while carrying a heavy
box of volatile explosives. While wearing shackles.

The image distracted her, and she crashed
into the marine in front of her. An unstrung bow strapped to his
rucksack clipped her jaw.

He glared over his shoulder but said
nothing. At some signal or command she had missed, the queue of
marines had halted. Two dogs the scouts had brought sniffed and
romped, unconcerned by whatever caused the leaders to stop.

“
Bones!” someone
called.

Tikaya glanced at Agarik. Was that a name?
Or a discovery?

Agarik said nothing. Every man in the squad
stood still, apparently drilled to do so until a command came.
Well, she was not a marine. She sidled out of line. Ten meters in
front of the formation, two men stood around something pale
half-covered in snow.

Would she get yelled at if she went up to
investigate? Did she care?

Tikaya shrugged and walked to the front of
the line. Men glanced at her as she passed, but no one stopped
her.

She slowed as she approached, regretting her
decision to leave the squad as soon as she identified the object on
the ground.

It was a naked man.
A
dead
naked
man.

Snow mounded against one side of the body,
and ice crystals gathered on limbs blackened by frostbite. He had
died face down, an arm stretched out, fingers splayed.

“
Nothing to translate
here, woman.” Lieutenant Commander Okars, a stocky man with
eyebrows thicker than the fur trimming his parka hood, leaned
against his rifle. He removed a plug of tobacco from a pocket and
gnawed off a corner with stained teeth before handing it to the
other man. “What d’you think?”

The second marine looked so similar to the
commander that Tikaya thought them twins for a moment. The name
tabs on both their parkas read Okars, but this fellow wore
lieutenant’s pins and had fewer lines on his face. He spat a brown
stream into the snow by the body. “Looks like he was running from
something.”

“
I called you up here for
a more professional assessment than that, Sawbones.”

“
Oh, I’m sorry. Did you
want me to inquire about his health and see what ails him? Perhaps
if he’ll give me a list of his symptoms, hm.”

At that point, Tikaya realized ‘sawbones’
was slang for doctor. The connotations in that name disturbed
her—she had never visited a healer who did not work as much with
the power of his mind as with his hands—and she hoped she did not
require this man’s services any time soon, especially if he kept
serrated metal tools in his kit.

“
Bones,” the commander
snapped. Strange that he used the term instead of his brother’s
name. Maybe the staid Turgonians had regulations against familial
familiarity.

“
What?” Bones asked. “He
froze to death. What do you want me to do?”

“
Figure out what drove him
to run out here naked and suicidal.”

Bones levered the barrel of his rifle under
the corpse and leaned onto the stock. Ice snapped, and the rigid
body rolled over. Tikaya jumped, surprised at the irreverent
treatment of the dead. That did not keep her from staring. The
front half was no more illuminating than the back, but the face,
eternally contorted in terror, made her shiver. The man had died
afraid, very afraid.

Bones shook his head at the commander.
“Nope, no clues.”

Okars ground his jaw. “Curse the
Headquarters desk-rider who thought it’d be amusing to put my
little brother on the same ship as me.”

“
Exquisite torture, isn’t
it?” Bones grinned.

Tikaya stared at the brothers. They were
joking. A corpse lay before them, a corpse probably belonging to
one of their own citizens, and they were joking.
Uncharacteristically intense irritation stirred within her.

“
Animals,” she blurted
before she could still her tongue. “Where’s your respect for the
dead?”

The commander’s bushy brows lowered, and a
cold, almost predatory expression darkened his face.

Bones placed a hand on Okars’s sleeve.
“You’d best get back to your place, ma’am. Stay out of the way and
let us do our jobs.”

She nodded and backed away.

“
Mouth shut, Tikaya,” she
muttered. “Keep your mouth shut around these warmongering
fools.”

Strange, she thought she had learned that
lesson already.

CHAPTER 8

When Tikaya and the
marines reached the shoreline, it differed little from the ice they
had been marching across. The ground rose subtly, and she supposed
a beach lay somewhere under all the snow. Two docks, embraced by
ice, stretched away from a couple of wooden warehouses with drifts
piled to the eaves along their northern walls. One of the dogs
lifted a leg and yellowed a sign post promising the availability of
alcohol at the
Rat
Wrangler
.

The town itself, with a single snowy road
running parallel to the waterfront, seemed more outpost than
community. Unpainted wood dwellings hunkered against the elements.
Three long rectangular buildings overlooked the town from the crown
of a hill. No life stirred anywhere. A stiff northeasterly wind
rattled shutters, and somewhere a door banged against a wall.

“
Welcome to Wolfhump,
ma’am,” Agarik said, speaking for the first time since the
discovery of the body.

“
That’s the name of the
town?” Tikaya asked.

“
It’s a trade outpost for
the miners working the mountains. I don’t think there’s a lot to do
up here except drink and watch the wildlife, uhm,
frolic.”

At the head of the formation, Commander
Okars made a few hand gestures, dividing men into parties for
scouting. Marines checked rifles and a couple strung bows. Tikaya
wondered if she might talk the commander into letting her borrow
one. She thought of letting an arrow fly into Sergeant Ottotark’s
chest and his scream of pain as he pitched backward, sprawling on
the ice. Tikaya jerked with surprise, startled her mind had
conjured the grizzly image. Too much time spent with these
Turgonians.

“
As far as you know
Wolfhump should be occupied?” Tikaya asked.

“
Of course, it should be
occupied,” Agarik snapped. He twitched, seemingly as surprised by
his tone as her. “Sorry, ma’am.”

A growl rumbled up ahead. One dog dove at
the other dog’s neck. Fangs sank into flesh and the victim
squealed, a heart-wrenching cry that halted conversations.

Tikaya gawked at the brutal attack. Marines
jumped into the fray, grabbing the dogs by the ruffs of their necks
and trying to pull them apart, but the attacking canine had gone
berserk. Muscles surged, fangs flashed, and soon blood spattered
the white snow.

“
Get those dogs under
control, private!”

“
Trying, sir!”

“
Idiots,” Agarik muttered
and strode forward to help.

Tikaya stayed back. The exchange had a
bizarreness to it that left her uneasy. She glanced toward the icy
sea again, wishing Rias was there to consult. Her gut lurched. The
ship was gone.

Nothing to worry about, she told herself. It
had probably just retreated to open waters to keep from being
ensconced when the ice reformed. But that meant the group had
nowhere to retreat to if they ran into trouble they could not
handle. She squinted, trying to spot the main party, but the sun
shone brilliantly on the ice. Even through her goggles, she could
not make them out yet.

“
Don’t touch—”

“
Get off me!”

She turned back in time to see two marines
crash to the snow. They wrestled and thrashed, and men previously
trying to keep the dogs apart now turned their attention to
separating the human combatants.

“
Satters, Choyka, stand
down!” Okars raced toward them, his voice strained and angry. Where
was the calm confidence one expected from a senior
officer?

Tikaya pulled her goggles up as if a clearer
view might enlighten, but the scene only stunned. The smaller dog
lay still, its neck torn open, blood drenching the snow beneath it.
The other raced across the ice field, yowling like a wolf. Three
marines grappled on the ground, clawing and punching at each other.
The commander tried to drag one of them away and took a fist to the
jaw. He slipped and went down.