The Shattered Islands: Part One: The Rakam (3 page)

There is a pause in the flurry of movement as Captain Kanen assesses our new allies.

"Permission to come aboard!" A voice calls from the larger whale-ship.

The captain looks around, seeing the injury and toll this attack has taken on his crew. Those not killed were injured or exhausted in a fight that felt hours but lasted no more than minutes.

"We have supplies we will gladly share!" The voice calls again.

"Permission granted," the captain shouts back, gesturing with a nod of his head for a member of his crew, who scrambles to untie the kelp that holds the bridged shell up.

As the bridge falls to the side of the ship, the other boat latches itself to us and stabilizes in the water, and three members of its crew walk across the shelled planks to greet our captain.

The man in the lead is tall with strong streaks of blue in his hair, nails and eyes. His eyes are sharp as he takes in the state of our ship. "I am Han'Ruu, of the Great Family, captain of this ship. We were traveling to a nearby port for trade when we heard the cries of your kiasheen."

He looks around, noting the injuries, the blood splashing against the great shell. "We have supplies, food, healers. We are happy to help if you'd like to take sanctuary on our ship while you make repairs and heal your kiasheen."

Captain Kanen nods a head. "Yer generosity and the generosity of yer great family will be remembered," he says.

It doesn't take long to move most of the crew to the larger whale-ship, while the healthiest members of the crew stay behind to make repairs. Han'Ruu sends his own men and women to help.

I stay to the side, observing, noticing. When Han'Ruu's eyes land on mine, I nod as a submissive to a greater house, and he acknowledges, giving a half nod. "You do not look like crew," he says.

"Just a passenger," I say.

"And yet you speared the rakam like one born with a blade in his hand," he observes.

Why was this man paying so much attention to me, I wonder. "I come from one of the lesser houses of the Shattered Islands, trained as a hunter. It comes in handy."

He studies me, then nods. "Fair enough, brother. I hope you will enjoy the comforts of our ship until yours is sea worthy again."

"Of course."

He speaks as one of the Ruu, his accent faint, sophisticated, but I don't recognize him. It's been many years since I last set foot in the Shattered Islands. Much has changed, it seems.

I disappear onto the Ruu ship, nodding to their crew, who are well-kept and well-organized. They wear the ornaments of traders, beads and shells that clank and clatter on their clothing, suggesting wealth and haggling abilities. I can smell the spices they have stored within the shell, cinnamon and nutmeg and more exotic flavors floating on the wet wind. The rain has stopped, and the damp world picks up the secondary scents more strongly now, with the cleansing of the clean water.

Another scent tickles my nose as I make my way deeper into the ship. I raise an eyebrow, intrigued, before I'm pulled into the mainroom where food and sea swill are being handed out liberally. I take my plate and cup from a burly woman with a thin mustache over her broad lips and find a seat alone.

I eat slowly, quietly, watching as the crews from the two ships mix and mingle. Some have just returned from having wounds bandaged and are slugging down the swill as if they haven't drank in months. Others are inhaling their food like it's the last they might ever see. There's a rush that fills the blood after a life threatening experience, and I see it playing out around me. People who held on too tightly are now letting loose, relieved that they don't have to be in charge, that someone else is here to fix things so they can stop shaking and find a way to breathe again.

I never stopped breathing, myself, until the woman walks in, her long white and blue dress teasing at her bare ankles. I catch a small design on her right ankle, made with pigments of red, before her dress moves to cover it once again. She fills a tray with clams, steamed fish and fried seaweed, and fills a large mug with sea swill, her eyes darting around as she works. Her long black hair is streaked with light strands of blue and piled high in a bun on her head. When she looks up, our eyes meet. Hers are striking, deep blue—almost turquoise—and so sad. She reminds me of the woman in my dreams, but only for a moment. Her eyes are too sad, her body too pulled into itself as she averts her face, grabs the tray and scurries out of the room before anyone can speak to her.

But as she closes the door behind her, she glances at me one more time, briefly, and I feel a voice form between us. A message. A plea.

I stand and slip out of the room, leaving my food and drink on the table.

I don't know where I'm going or why. I know only one thing.

I must speak to the woman with the blue eyes.

When I enter the side shell, the girl is gone.

I walk through halls, past doors to private cabins, the eyes of the local crew regarding me with suspicion as I continue my search with a casual nonchalance I don't feel but must fake. By the time I give up looking for her, I have traversed most of the ship, including the armory and a rare bathing room. This kiasheen and crew must be at least three times the size of the one I commissioned. Their gear is of top quality: thrice thickened nets, stone tipped arrows, and even an iron pot in the kitchen. This is the opulence that comes with being part of a great family. I do not care for it, but I find myself wondering if they have any pillows.

I have not found the girl, nor the pillows, when I'm deep in the belly of the shell, and I hear a scraping sound coming from a deck below me. I follow the noise and find a set of stairs protruding from the wall, part of the shell, part of the original carved design. I take them down and reach a door that does not lead to a private cabin or deck. It is guarded by two crewmembers playing a popular game, Shells and Stones. It's a betting game, and they have a small pot of coppers piling up between them as they toss their shells and stones and pray for luck to guide them.

The bushy haired thin man looks up when I approach. He has a long goatee growing from the center of his pointed chin, the rest of his cheeks smooth as a child's. Bits of colored cloth are woven into his dark beard, with matching bits tied into his hair. He raises an eyebrow when he sees me. "You from the other ship." It's a statement, not a question.

I nod. "I think I got myself turned around looking for a place to piss."

The small round man with him guffaws and looks to his partner. "Man's got to piss, Mal'Ruu?" He turns back to me. "Ain't you ever heard of pissing off the side of the ship?"

His words are slurred, as if he's had too much sea swill while on duty.

"I'm a private man," I tell him.

"There be a latrine near the fluke," Mal'Ruu offers. "If you can't wait, there's a bucket in the kitchen. Tel'Ruu here just took a dump in it, so it be nice and fresh for you."

Neither man has moved from his seat, but I feel the tension in the air thicken when I don't immediately leave. "What's behind the door?"

Tel'Ruu sighs, seemingly annoyed, but Mal'Ruu smiles and leans forward. "We recently came upon a nest of drakruu," he says quietly. "Caught a youngin."

My eyes grow wide like a child's on drowning day. The blue shadow, the sapphire scale, the winged reptile that, when fully grown, can carry a man or woman over the seas, lies behind that door. They are born black, but once they feed on the sapphires deep within the ocean their scales begin to turn blue. A merchant once told me the beasts cost more than a small island, and only a few have ever seen one up close. Seen one and lived, that is.

I grin, sheepishly. "You think I can—"

"Sorry," says Mal'Ruu, raising a hand to his bearded chin. "But no one goes in. Not even us. You understand."

I nod and turn to leave.

"Hey," says the tall man. "Mind keeping this to yourself? Some men feel the gold calling when they hear of drakruu, yes?"

I think of people like Clam and nod again. "Be at ease, searunner. I shall tell no one as I search for that bucket."

The men chuckle and return to their game as I drift back down the hall I came from, my hope of finding the mysterious girl with blue eyes lost for the time being.

But knowing there are drakruu on board piques my curiosity. This crew is like me. We are both full of secrets, and we are both lying.

When I return to the great shell, I'm not surprised to find a section of the surface covered with dead rakam. In life they are fierce, deadly, terrifying. They do not lose their awe in death. If anything, they are more terrifying, their ever unblinking, unclosing white eyes still staring at you as if the fight isn't finished and they will prevail.

They are brutal hunters, first impaling their victim with the tip of their spear-like mouths, usually in the gut. As their victim bleeds out, releasing intestines in the process, they begin to feed, slowly. Some say, you die from the pain before the wounds.

But this time, the rakam are the dead ones, lying in small pools of water as crew members from both ships strip the beasts of their skins and mouths for use in weapon and clothing-making. The meat is saved for rare stews and broths—said to give a man a pair of fighting balls if eaten raw—and the useless bits are tossed back into the sea as food for other species.

The smell is strong, the stench carrying with the winds. I step away, letting my eyes fall back to the injured kiasheen. It's resting peacefully in the water, the healers doing their work to give the great whale its strength back as they use ancient balms and seaweed strips to close the wounds. I find the captain of my own ship supervising the process.

He looks up and grunts when he sees me. "If yer here to ask for those stones back, yer wasting yer breath. I told ye when we started this trip, once a man sets sail on these waters, his fate be in the hands of the goddess."

I shrug idly, never having intended to ask for compensation. It says much about the captain and the people he's dealt with, that he thought I would. "We were lucky the Ruu ship came when it did," I say, eyeing the grizzled old man.

He glares at me from the side of his eyes, his scar twisting over the clenched muscles of his jaw and neck. "I taught them, you know," he says, glancing back at the healers. "Taught every one of them."

I raise an eyebrow. "You were a healer?"

"Still smell the healing sap on my hands." He takes a swig from his flask. "Back then all I wanted was to be captain, but now, I think that was a simpler time. A better time." He smiles and points at the working crew. "See how they apply the balm in layers, not all at once like those big island folk? That's the right way." His words focus on the healers, but I see his mind is elsewhere. I see it in his stone heavy shoulders, in the way his smile never reaches his eyes, in the way his hands cradle his flask like a lover. His mind is yet to forget. His mind is yet to forgive.

"Any idea when we'll be back on the water?" I ask.

"If all goes well, two sun's time."

I mentally calculate all that could happen in two sun's time.

Too much.

For a moment, we sit silently in the darkness. Before I leave, I grip the captain's shoulder and use my softest voice, the one I learned from my mother. "You led your men well," I say. "No other captain would have saved as many." Then I walk away swiftly, for it is a rare thing to hear words of kindness and know that no words are needed in return.

***

I spend the rest of the afternoon exploring this new ship, talking to the crew, getting to know as many of them as I can. My cover as "Sev," a lower-family cast off, stands. No one questions why my eyes are so bright, why I wear gloves to hide my nails, why I'm on this trip at all.

And so both crews settle into a rhythm that is focused and efficient. When the final repairs are made and our whale is deemed seaworthy once more, Han'Ruu invites everyone for a final celebratory dinner to cement our friendship and say our goodbyes before we set sail the next morning.

The dinner takes place on the larger whale-ship, atop the great shell, with everyone in attendance. It's a grand affair, for a ship, with multiple courses of complex meals—including of course, roasted rakam—different flavors of wines and liquors and several choices of desserts. The alcohol flows freely and there isn't a sober man or woman left by the time the crone moon is high in the sky.

I am sitting at the edge of the shell, watching the festivities from afar, cradling a wine cup in my hands, when Calla saunters over to me. She runs a long finger down my chest as she puckers her lips. "Such a waste these last few days have been," she says, grinning mischievously. "You and I could have had so much fun, if you'd wanted." She leans into my shoulder and whispers into my ear, her breath hot on my neck. "They have beds, ye know. And the moon is still high. There is time."

"Perhaps in another life," I say, gently pushing her away. As I do, she opens her lips and brushes the side of my face with her hand, but there is no part of me that responds to her touch. That part of me belongs to another.

Seeing my lack of excitement, she shakes her head and settles into the chair next to mine, clutching her cup close to her. She eyes the bundle tied with kelp that hangs from the side of my chair. "Tell me a secret tonight. Just one." Her eyes are bright and glossy from the drink, but also from unshed tears of those recently lost.

"I have no secrets worth sharing."

She laughs loudly. "That is the boldest lie ye've told so far. Come on, play along for just one night."

I hold eyes with her for a moment, and a genuine smile crosses my lips. "Fair enough." I lean in conspiratorially, whispering. "I really, really, really hate roasted rakam. Anything made of rakam makes me sick."

I lean back against my chair and she swats at my arm, but she laughs, as I'd hoped. "Truth?" she asks.

I hold three fingers over my heart. "Goddess sworn," I say. "Now your turn."

She nods, and her eyes take on a faraway look, her smile lost to something sadder. "I always wished I'd been born a man," she says after a moment.

I raise an eyebrow in honest surprise. "Why? Women have all the power on the islands."

She shakes her head. "That power, yes, it's real. It's there, but it's also its own prison, too. Men get to set sail their whole lives, without worry of child birth and rulership. We have the power, but not the freedom."

"Men don't have freedom to stay," I remind her. "They are expendable, useful for hunting, for trading, maybe for leading crews, but they cannot choose their woman, claim and raise their own children, choose the life of their own desires."

She tilts her cup into her mouth and swallows what's left of her swill. "Ye speak truth. I suppose we are all trapped in our cages, some are just more gilded than others."

She stands then, her smile back. "I still have time, before I'm called back to bear children and take my place in society. I will make every moment count." She leans in, her breasts close to my face. "Ye should do the same."

She saunters away, her offer unspoken as she walks back to the great table at the middle of the shell, joining Clam and Garen in a game of Shells and Stones. Though I have always rejected her advances, she has never acted bitter, never cruel or spiteful. She even treats Clam well, though no one else does. Hers is a kind soul, one that, if things had been different, I could find happiness with. But there is another girl in my dreams, and her voice is the one I heed tonight.

Hours pass, and as the maiden moon begins to fade, Han'Ruu begins a game of Shells and Stones with a few of his men. I walk over to his side at the head of the great table. "May I join you?" I ask.

"Of course, brother. Of course. Sit down, have more wine." He snaps his fingers and the girl with the blue eyes refills my cup. I look at her, but she does not look at me as she finishes her duties and steps back behind Han'Ruu's chair.

"What shall we bet tonight, brothers?" asks Han'Ruu.

Mal'Ruu throws a dozen stones on the table and Tel'Ruu tosses an iron ring into the pile. I unfurl my bundle of kelp and lay a gleaming sword before them.

Their eyes grow wide. Their mouths curl in greedy smiles. The blade is carved from a pale blue rakam head. The guard and grip are forged from precious steel. But it is the pommel that draws their gaze. There, under the silver moonlight, glitters a deep blue sapphire.

Han'Ruu speaks softly. "What would you have me wager?"

I think it over, my eyes flashing to the girl. "Her," I say.

"But she is—"

"She is a slave, is she not?"

The captain's smile fades. Tel'Ruu watches us, his hand sliding below the table. I pay him little mind as I lock eyes with Han'Ruu, my words firm. "I will have her, and nothing else for this sword."

He looks to his men, then smiles. "Very well. Let us begin."

Tel'Ruu hands each of us a cup filled with three stones and three shells. No one else plays, for it is clear no one else has anything to match my wager. Han'Ruu and I shake our cups and place them face down upon the black table. I peek under my cup, counting the amount of shells with the ridges up and the stones showing three lines. Han'Ruu does the same. We both proclaim our points. We do not have to be honest.

"Two shells, two stones," says Han'Ruu. Tel'Ruu records four points, then a bonus two for the pair, writing with charcoal on a stone slate.

I shrug. "Three shells, one stone."

At this point, either player can challenge the other, and if Han'Ruu was to challenge me now, I would lift my cup and reveal my one shell. He would see that I lied, and I would lose. However, he must be sure, for if he is wrong, and I am being honest, then I am the winner.

There is no challenge, and we play three more rounds, adding up our points. I have nineteen. He has twenty three. The first to reach thirty, or to win a challenge, wins the game.

I pat my gloves and clean my side of the table. We shake our cups and peek at our stones and shells. "One shell, two stones," says Han'Ruu, grinning. He is almost certain to win next round.

I shrug, keeping my face calm. "Three stones, three shells." Nine points. Enough for me to win. Those who have followed along, grow still.

Han'Ruu snickers. "Challenge, brother."

I lift my cup. Three stones. Three shells.

"Inspect them," says Han'Ruu, and Tel'Ruu checks my stones to see if they are marked on only one side. They are. He tosses them three times to see if they are weighed evenly. They are. He does not notice the black powder on my gloves, the one I spread over my side of the table, the one that covers the second marks on my stones.

Han'Ruu laughs. "What a game, brother, what a game. You may have her tomorrow—"

"Tonight."

The crew chuckles.

"Tonight then," says Han'Ruu, smiling. "Feel free to use my cabin, brother."

I nod and stand and take my sword by the hilt and the blue-eyed girl by the arm. Calla catches my gaze as we leave the mainroom and smiles, clearly pleased I'm exercising my carnal rights, even if not with her.

My hand tightens on the blue-eyed girls arm, and I escort her to the captain's quarters. Once inside, I secure the door and sit down, not on the bed, but on the floor, and motion for her to sit across from me. She remains standing, her eyes stabbing at me like rakam knives. She thought I was one thing, and now she thinks I am another. If, when her eyes pleaded with me earlier, she had any hope of escape, I have crushed it.

Now that I am within arm's length of her, I see where her beauty has been marred by bruises and scars, and the inked mark of the slave on her ankle. She is not as flawless as she seemed from a distance, but in her wounds she is made even more beautiful, like a broken bird who has almost forgotten how to fly.

"What is your name?" I ask.

"Vasa."

"Vasa, tonight, you must stay in this room," I say. "You must bar the door. You must not let anyone in until the sun has risen. Do you understand?"

Her eyes are confused, her lips trembling. "Why?"

"Because the men outside must pay."

She is quiet for a long moment, and then her voice turns harsh. "Fool, all of you will be asleep soon."

"We will not," I say. "My crew knows about the wine."

She blinks, then frowns, challenging me. "How?"

"Do not worry how," I say. "Will you stay in this room, Vasa?"

She nods.