Authors: Lindsay Buroker
Tags: #romance, #paranormal romance, #fantasy, #science fiction, #steampunk, #epic fantasy, #fantasy romance, #fantasy adventure, #sf, #science fiction romance, #high fantasy, #science fantasy, #traditional fantasy, #science fantasy romance, #steampunk romance
She grabbed a biscuit and gnawed. It had the
consistency of sawdust and less flavor. Agarik placed another tray,
this one with a larger portion of food, on the floor in Five’s
cell. He drew his cutlass and used it to push the tray deeper,
presumably so the chained prisoner could reach it. Tension marked
the corporal’s movements—he seemed to fear an attack at any
moment—and Tikaya wondered if people had been hurt, or worse, when
the marines originally locked Five up. Either that or his
reputation was simply enough to instill fear. Even Sergeant
Ottotark’s bravado had seemed forced. And she wanted to ally with
Five? Was she insane? Just desperate, she decided.
Agarik delivered the meal without incident;
the chains did not even clank to suggest movement. He sheathed his
sword and turned to face her.
“
Captain Bocrest wishes to
know if you’ve decided whether to cooperate voluntarily or if
more...” he shrugged apologetically, “pressure is
required.”
What? Threatening families—and windpipes—was
not enough to sway most prisoners?
“
I’m willing to attempt
the translations,” she said, “but I have terms. I can’t work in
these conditions.”
“
I’ll tell
him.”
“
Corporal?” Tikaya asked
before he could leave.
He turned back, face guarded. He probably
feared she would ask some favor he would be duty-bound to
refuse.
“
Thank you for your
kindnesses,” was all she said.
He nodded but said nothing. A bevy of
footsteps hammered the deck, the hatch clanked open, and six burly
marines clomped into view. Sergeant Ottotark followed, tapping his
baton against his thigh as he walked, and Tikaya shrank into the
shadows. Now what?
The six marines staggered themselves along
the corridor and pointed pistols, not into her cell but into the
opposite one. Tikaya stepped forward, afraid they meant to execute
her neighbor, but Ottotark rattled the keys.
“
Time to visit the
captain, Five.”
He unlocked the door and waved two of his
men inside. They exchanged nervous glances but slid into the cell
and stood on either side of the door, pistols never wavering.
Ottotark took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself, then walked
inside. As yet, the chains had not rattled, and Tikaya half thought
Five asleep. Maybe he was just being still, hoping for a chance to
escape. Though how he could do so with so many firearms pointed his
way, she could not guess.
While all eyes focused on that cell, Tikaya
eased forward. She eyed the belts of the men within her reach,
hoping to spot a set of keys. Such luck did not favor her.
Corporal Agarik had stepped back when the
others marched in, and she caught his knowing gaze on her. She
sniffed and stared back. They had kidnapped her; she refused to
feel guilty for thinking of escaping.
“
Up.” Sergeant Ottotark
must have unlocked the chains securing the prisoner to the wall. A
long still moment passed with no sign of movement in Five’s cell.
“I said, get up!”
Ottotark lunged into the shadows. Tikaya
flinched, expecting the meaty thud of that baton striking flesh. A
scuffle and grunt sounded. Someone threw the baton and it clattered
against the gate before dropping to the floor. The sergeant growled
and drew his arm back, but he halted mid-blow and skittered
backward.
Five was on his feet.
“
Don’t move!” one of the
marines inside the cell barked, pistol arm straight and rigid.
“We
will
shoot
you.”
“
Doubtful.” But Five
stopped short of grabbing Ottotark and turned toward the guards,
his features still in shadow.
“
Cursed bastard, you
presume much,” Ottotark growled. “We can shoot you without killing
you.” A speculative note entered his voice, as if he were truly
considering it.
Tikaya gripped the bars of her gate, trying
to think of something to say to help him. After all, Five had come
to her defense.
“
Or we can just beat you
into oblivion for the rest of the trip.” Ottotark hooked a punch
into Five’s face.
With pistols pointed at his chest, Five
could only accept it. Ottotark grabbed his baton and lifted it to
deliver more damage.
“
I thought Turgonians were
supposed to be brave warriors,” Tikaya blurted. “Abusing someone
who can’t fight back is cowardly.”
“
Sew that yap shut, woman.
Nobody wants your opinion.” Despite his words, Ottotark lowered the
baton and prowled out of the cell. “Let’s go, ugly.”
Five shambled into the corridor. Thick,
tangled black hair hung around his cheeks and half way down his
back. A matted beard and mustache engulfed the lower half of his
face. Torn, faded trousers with ragged hems reached his calves, and
a crudely sewn hide vest covered his torso, leaving muscular but
lean—too lean—bare arms visible beneath a layer of grime. Shackles
bound his wrists before him, and blood trickled from his nose,
adding menace to his already savage appearance. Even slumped, head
hanging, he stood a half foot taller than Tikaya.
He glanced at her, almost wincing, and she
had the impression his state embarrassed him. She met his eyes with
a respectful nod. Criminal or not, he was the most obvious person
to turn into an ally.
“
Let’s go.” Ottotark sent
two men ahead, then shoved Five after them.
After the group had gone, Agarik nodded to
Tikaya’s food and water. “Do you need anything else?”
Everything else, she thought, and a trip
back home. “Can you tell me who that is I’m sharing the brig
with?”
“
Nobody knows.”
“
Some
body must know.”
“
The captain,” Agarik
said. “He doesn’t confide in anyone. I don’t think Sergeant
Ottotark even knows, and he’s the captain’s adjutant.”
“
What happens if the
captain gets shot and no one else knows the mission?” Tikaya
supposed it was uncharitable to enjoy the thought.
“
The orders are locked up
somewhere. The officers know where to find them.”
“
Ah.” Tikaya pointed to
the vacated cell. “Why are your people so careful with him? Is he
that dangerous?”
Agarik worked his tongue against his cheek
and gazed toward the ladder, perhaps considering whether it would
be a breach of duty to answer. “He’s a prisoner from Krychek
Island, and we lost four men getting him off the beach.”
“
He killed
them?”
“
No, the lunatics on the
island attacked our party with spears and clubs. Men gone savage.
They wanted to escape, and if they couldn’t escape they’d kill
those who originally brought them there months and years before.
Ancestors’ wrath, we had to shoot a bunch of them. Seemed they’d
rather die than stay there.”
“
And Five attacked you
too?” Tikaya rested her arms on the gate and watched the corporal’s
face in the flickering light of the single lantern. His gaze had
grown thoughtful and distant.
“
No, he stood back and
watched. You got the sense he didn’t want anything to do with us,
but he didn’t hide either. At first it seemed he’d come along
peacefully—he got in the longboat once the captain spotted him and
called him over. He didn’t give us any trouble rowing back to the
ship, but he attacked a guard the first night, got out of his cell,
stole a pile of food from the galley, and slipped by everyone on
duty.” Agarik frowned. “Including myself. Without anyone seeing
him, he swiped a sextant, compass, chronometer, nautical almanac,
and spare sail, and he was about to drop a lifeboat. He would have
been long gone by morning, but Captain Bocrest got an itch, and he
was waiting with a loaded rifle.”
“
So
he—Five—surrendered?”
“
Not exactly.” Agarik
rubbed his jaw as if recalling a blow. “Captain threatened to shoot
him but didn’t, and it took a full squad to wrestle him belowdecks
and get him locked up again.”
“
Where he’s been chained
ever since.”
“
Yes, ma’am.”
So, whatever the imperials wanted their
prisoner for, it seemed he was also too valuable to kill. His first
escape might not have worked, but he had that goal in mind too.
Good. Two people rowing a longboat would be more efficient than
one, and it heartened her that Five had known exactly what to grab.
She knew how to sail and navigate in theory but had never been out
of sight of her islands.
“
One thing’s a mite
peculiar,” Agarik mused.
“
Just one?” Everything
thus far struck Tikaya as peculiar.
“
He didn’t take a pen or
paper.”
“
What do you
mean?”
“
You need to do some
figuring to account for the errors and adjustments that come with
using a sextant. Not many could do ‘em in their head and keep them
straight from day to day without a log.”
“
Maybe he forgot,” Tikaya
said, though she already had a hunch Five had a background in
mathematics. Maybe he could do the calculations in his head and
remember the results.
The corporal grunted noncommittally. He
seemed as curious about the mystery prisoner as her.
More footfalls rang on the deck. Now
who?
“
Your duty, Corporal,” the
captain said, eyes cool as he descended the steps. “It is not
here.”
“
Yes, sir.” Agarik ducked
his head and trotted away.
This time, Bocrest wore his black uniform
jacket with a handful of badges and medals adorning the breast. A
fresh bruise swelled on his temple, and dried blood crusted on his
chin beneath a swollen split lip. Had someone whaled on him as part
of a training session? Or maybe he had already started questioning
Five, and it wasn’t going well. Either way, the bumps would
probably not improve his personality.
Nonetheless, she lifted her chin and met the
captain’s eyes. Bravado would likely get her further than meekness
on this ship.
“
Well?” Bocrest asked.
“You working with us or are my men taking target practice on your
family members?”
It was a moment before she could unclench
her jaw. The man had the diplomacy of a stinging jellyfish. “I will
help you, captain,” she said, forcing a civil tone, “but I can’t
work in this dark pit, and, surely, if you expected me to translate
this language, you brought some basic references and primers.
Hodtolk’s? Fisher and Grist? Merk’s Hieroglyphics Compendium? More
samples of this writing would help as well. And I’ll certainly need
better lighting, paper, pencils, a table. I’ll also need the
freedom to walk around. That’s when I do my best thinking.”
Tikaya expected denial, especially over her
last request, but after glaring at her for a moment—it seemed his
normal way of looking at people—he said, “I’ll get you paper and
better lighting. You may have one daily exercise period. Beyond
that, pace your cell if you need to ‘think.’”
He started for the hatch.
“
One more question,
captain,” Tikaya said, wondering if he would answer it honestly or
not.
“
What?”
“
Suppose I succeed in
translating this language, in helping you with whatever your
problem is. What happens to me then?”
Bocrest eyed her over his shoulder. “If you
succeed, your family will not be harmed. You? As far as the emperor
and thousands of dead Turgonians are concerned, your deeds during
the war condemned you. I suggest you enjoy your last project.”
Tikaya leaned against the cold metal wall
for support. She wished he had lied.
* * * * *
When Tikaya stepped out of the hatch, the
sun made her blink. She stumbled and almost crashed into the guards
escorting her outside for her exercise session. Nobody offered a
steadying hand.
Wind gusted across the deck, tugging at her
braid, and slapping her dress against her legs. When her vision
recovered, the sun told her they traveled northeast. Endless sea
stretched in all directions, so she could only guess at their
position and goal. Though the briny breeze stole the stink of
burning coal, the black plumes streaming from two smokestacks
suggested the furnaces burned at maximum capacity. Full sails made
use of the wind as well, and Tikaya wondered how fast they traveled
under the combined power. Perhaps she imagined it, but the sun
warming her cheeks felt less intense than back home. Where were the
Turgonians taking her?
A pair of marines in gray togs jostled her
as they jogged past.
“
Stay out of the running
lane,” one barked without glancing back.
Tikaya sighed and shuffled in the direction
the guards indicated. She should have relished the excursion, the
chance to stretch and walk, but the lack of company dulled her
spirits. She hadn’t even been able to speak with Five again. The
captain had granted her request for a desk and better illumination
by moving her to one of the officers’ cabins in the wardroom, which
put her on the other side of the ship from the man she wanted to
conspire with. And the young private stationed outside her door
showed no inclination of allowing her to wander.
The guards led her past masts, smokestacks,
and two thirty-foot launches mounted in the center of the deck. She
kept her gaze from lingering too long on the big boats. It would
take more than two people to get one of those in the water anyway.
She stepped past a cannon to glance over the railing. Ah, yes.
Smaller cutters were mounted alongside the ship below the gun
ports. She and Five could handle one of those. Unfortunately, she
needed time with him to make plans.