In the Skin of a Nunqua (15 page)

“You’re too close to Commander Gy. High Commander Kyros will officiate.”

“Who’s Kyros?” Pirro said.

Shanti tossed the dead wasp to the ground. “A message will be sent to Commander Kyros.”

“And to my father,” Bayla said. “So the king can know of your murderous intentions.”

“Any message must only state that there is an inquiry of conduct at the camp. No specific details shall be revealed until both parties have had a chance to defend themselves. These are the rules of an inquiry, unless royalty is now above the rules.”

“You shall rot in jail for what you’ve done.”

“And you shall hold your tongue until the inquiry is over.” Shanti stood, and a feeling of wooziness came over her. Wings once there wouldn’t respond, and she had to walk on awkward, rubbery legs.

“Pick up that weapon, Princess.” She barked to the soldiers, “Clean up the site so we can go back to camp.”

14

Chameleon

T
he heat and
“humidity of summer enveloped the camp like a thick, steamy blanket. Shanti took a long soak in the river, but moments after getting out, she was again bathed in sweat. She sat on a log near the soldiers’ tents and wrung the water out of her hair.

“My favorite commander!” Mr. Pascha plopped down next to her. “I do believe you owe me for breaking my table and making a mess of the dining area.”

She would sooner sit by a dung heap. “I owe you nothing.”

“You also owe me for the snake I prepared for the princess.” He leaned toward her, his breath reeking of onions.

Shanti remembered her promise to Gy, to ignore Pascha.

“Come on, Shanti. Let’s be friends.”

Ignore it.

““I’ve been in the woods too long. Even
you’re
“starting to look good,” the backs of his fingers stroked her arm.”

“Mr. Pascha, I’ll give you this one warning. Do not touch me.”

“Just having a little fun.” A shock of greasy yellow hair half covered his eyes. “You owe me,” he cooed. His hand reached up and felt her breast.

“Silence hung heavy in the oppressive heat. She looked at the man, not in anger but in disbelief. Had he actually just
groped
“her?

“You sure are somethin’, woman.” He cackled and slapped his knee. “All talk. I knew the only reason you made commander is because you slept your way to a promotion. Mr. Pascha ain’t so dumb.”

A strange coolness enveloped her. She blinked, and her pupils dilated. An ominous sneer darkened her blood-red lips, and mottled spots like a leopard’s emerged on her skin. Her face remained clear, drained of all color except for a few small spots around her left eye.

Pascha’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. Only one word squeaked out of his throat. “Nunqua . . .”

“She grasped his ankle and lifted his leg as he kicked feebly at her with the other. His head hit the log with a low
thunk.
“Pascha twisted onto his belly, but her grip remained firm.

“Nunqua!” he yelled. “She’s a Nunqua!”

Shanti walked backward, dragging him easily along the ground. His hands raked leaves and dirt and broke twigs off bushes as he reached for something, anything, to hold on to.

Soldiers emerged from tents and followed at a prudent distance. Bayla came out of the pavilion with Aiden and Pirro. Everyone stared dumbstruck at the spectacle. Shanti—hair wet, skin mottled with spots, lips red on a pale face—continued hauling her victim through the camp.

Pascha’s hands grasped at a tree root the thickness of his finger, with both ends trapped in the soil. Seizing it, he held fast as Shanti yanked on his leg. She stopped her efforts long enough for him to get his whole hand under the root.

She unsheathed her sword.

“No-o-o-o-o!” Pascha yowled.

The sword blurred in a swift downward arc next to his face, severing the root at one end. She chopped the other end of the root, freeing Pascha from his anchor. Returning the sword to its sheath, she continued to haul him over the ground.

Commander Gy blocked her path, along with Vittorio, Jun, and even High Commander Kyros, who seemed out of place in a clean brown uniform that hadn’t seen a day in the field.

“Commander Gy, you let a Nunqua in the camp!” Pascha spat. “A Nunqua! Worse than an animal.” He tried to stand, but Shanti put her boot on his back.

Kyros smiled in a superior manner. “Commander Shanti.”

“Commander Kyros, so good to see you again!” A subtle change came over her voice, and her speech grew slower and more deliberate.

“Explain,” Gy ordered.

“Mr. Pascha took certain unwelcome liberties,” she said.

Brown leaves stuck to his hair, and bits of dirt clung to his sweaty face. “I ain’t done nothin’. You hear me? Nothin’!”

“What exactly did he do?”

“He made advances that couldn’t be ignored, Commander Gy.”

“Stop talking in riddles, Commander Shanti. What did he do?”

“Nothin’, I said.” Pascha lay on the ground and attempted to pull his leg out of her grip.

One of the soldiers, a witness to the incident, spoke up. “He grabbed her . . . ah . . . chest, then laughed like it was funny.”

Others nodded in agreement with this statement.

“Mr. Pascha,” Gy said, “you’re a fine cook but a sorry excuse for a man. Commander Shanti, do as you wish.”

Shanti continued to haul the kicking, squirming man to Vittorio’s tent, where she found some rope. Slinging the rope over her shoulder, she scanned the area till she found a thick tree. Then she tied Pascha securely to the trunk as he shouted obscenities.

“Nunqua scum! Worthless animal!”

Again she unsheathed her sword in the blazing heat, standing before her assailant.

“Come on, Commander Shanti. It was just a joke.” His tone was sugary and thick as syrup. “I didn’t mean anything by it! You know I really do like you.”

Her changed face was expressionless.

““I mean, respect you. I
respect
“you.”

She clutched a fistful of his hair and pulled, slicing it close to the scalp with her sword.

“Hellcat! Spawn of demons!”

Glancing at the oily shock of hair, she put away the weapon, then wiped her hand on the shoulder of Pascha’s stained shirt.

She left him there, tied to the tree, with a chunk of his hair missing, for everyone to see.

Pascha’s confinement lasted until the middle of the night. Shanti, looking once again like a Willovian, wordlessly cut him free. He scampered around camp, tripping over tent ropes in the dark and collecting his gear. Soldiers guarded the pavilion, cooking supplies, and horses so he wouldn’t steal anything on his way out.

*

“Were you aware that Shanti is a Nunqua?” Kyros asked Gy. A medium-size tent was put up for his temporary stay at camp, and all four male commanders were inside.

“Actually, she’s a half-breed.”

“Willovians and Nunqua do not breed,” Vittorio said.

“I’d advise you not to say that to her,” Gy said, “unless you want to be tied to a tree.”

“Did you know she could alter her appearance?” Kyros asked.

“Not until yesterday.”

“Commander Jun,” Kyros said, “you may bring in Rega Bayla for the inquiry.”

Bayla entered and faced the commanders.

“Rega Bayla,” Kyros said, “you claim Commander Shanti tried to kill you. Exactly how did she do this?

“She pushed me down and squeezed my neck until I couldn’t breathe. I passed out.”

“Can you tell us about the wasps?”

She did not respond.

Kyros rubbed his forehead. “Rega, your power is known to us.”

“I summoned the wasps for my protection.”

“Tell me again, Rega, so I can be certain. How did Commander Shanti try to kill you?”

“I was on the ground, and she choked me.”

“I want you to know that any decision made in this inquiry is my own. The other commanders are here to bear witness to testimony only. They will not influence my judgment. You may go,” Kyros said.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Bayla frowned and left the tent.

“Commander Jun,” Kyros said, “can you please get Commander Shanti.”

Shanti entered and faced Kyros.

“Commander Shanti, did you attempt to kill Rega Bayla?”

“No.”

“Where was your hand when Bayla was on the ground before she passed out?”

“It was on her arm.”

“But witnesses say you seized her neck,” he said.

“Yes, but only to push her down. After she fell, I held on to her arm.”

“So Rega Bayla passed out because you were holding on to her arm?”

“No,” Shanti said. “Passing out was the price she paid for using her power to summon the wasps.”

“And how do you know this?”

“I’ve known Rega Bayla for some time now, studied her. When she uses her power, it creates a burden that can sometimes overwhelm her—a cut on her hand for shattering a dish, for example. It’s my belief that when she gains more maturity and more control over her emotions, these repercussions for using her power will cease.”

Kyros nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Relax, Commander Shanti. The princess lied. Every witness I’ve talked to confirms your version of events: you were holding on to her arm when she passed out. No bruises are on her neck. The inquiry is over.”

“You seem disappointed,” she said to Kyros.

Gy answered, “You’re not thinking like a Guardian. What’s the punishment for lying at an inquiry?”

Suddenly, Shanti felt no joy at proving her innocence. The ramifications for Willovia were terrible. “Punishment for lying at an inquiry is banishment. Bayla’s no longer a soldier. The Guardians won’t support her as queen. The princess is the last of her bloodline. Infighting among the Willovians will occur to determine who rules the country. Civil war.”

“Bayla will not be banished!” Gy said, his usual composed demeanor gone. “We must give her another chance. Shanti, I gave you an order to teach her to be strong, teach her to be a leader. You failed.”

To have King Magen or Commander Kyros admonish her was one thing, but Commander Gy’s words were like a slap in the face, a knife in the heart.

“Madiza warned you: your failure is her failure.” Gy’s face burned red in anger. “You want her to fail. You’re jealous of her power, her potential. You would throw away Willovia for your own overstuffed pride.”

She couldn’t respond. Gy had been her main supporter. He was the one who recommended she be trained and promoted to commander.

“I will not banish Rega Bayla,” Kyros said. “Neither will Shanti be punished. The princess will be given another chance.”

Gy picked up a short sword encased in leather. He wrung the supple sheath in a strangling motion, then carried the sword out of the tent, followed by Kyros.

“Commander Gy is under a lot of pressure,” Vittorio said. “Don’t take it personally.”

““I guess royalty
is
“above the rules.” Shanti turned away to hide her emotions. An emotional soldier was a weak soldier. She did not want to seem weak.

15

Banishment

B
ayla woke to
the sound of someone entering her tent in the middle of the night. It was Shanti. Her sleeves were pushed up, and she was not wearing her wristlet of darts—just a braided orange band that encircled her upper arm. Black paint was smeared across the skin under her eyes. Shanti threw an orange armband onto the bed, then left the tent.

Bayla jumped out of bed and tripped on the sheets wrapped about her legs. She dressed in the uniform and tied her hair behind her. In her rush to see what was happening, she buttoned the shirt wrong.
Damn!
Now she had to unbutton and rebutton the uniform. She raced out of the tent, pulling the orange band around her upper arm.

Shanti was waiting for her just outside the tent. They went to the tree stump with the dragon on it. Other soldiers, also wearing orange armbands and with black paint smeared across their faces, were gathered at the stump. Shanti took a map out of her shirt and unfurled it. More black paint darkened the skin of her arms, and the full moon shone overhead, giving enough light to read by.

“Eight members of our team are spread out in a defensive position around our flag . . . here.” She pointed to an orange triangle on the map. “Two advance teams have gone ahead to determine the location of the blue flag, which should be in this area.” Blue shaded a large portion of the map, but no blue triangle could be seen.

“You five, take the left flank,” Shanti said. “We’ll take the right. If you see the blue flag, do not strike unless you’re sure you can take it. We need as many people as possible to get through their defenses.

“When a flag is captured, Commander Gy or Commander Vittorio will sound a horn indicating the game is over. If you get close enough to a member of the blue team to kill him, take his armband. If he gets close enough to kill you, he will take your armband to signify you’re dead. If you’re killed, you stay in that spot, silent as the grave. No help is to be given to your teammates. Remember, this is a game of stealth and honor.

“There are three targets. The primary target is the flag. Capture their flag, and we win. Secondary targets are their map, which shows the location of their flag, and Commander Jun. I have a bottle of very expensive brandy in my tent I will trade to whoever gives me Commander Jun’s armband.”

The men around her quietly expressed their approval.

Shanti rolled up the map and handed it to Bayla. “Keep it hidden.” She opened a canister containing a solid block of black paint and rubbed two fingers along its surface. Turning to Bayla, she placed one hand on the side of her head and stroked her fingers across Bayla’s cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. She also covered Bayla’s arms with paint.

Bayla was used to being touched by strangers: hairdressers, seamstresses, artists. Having Shanti touch her without the usual disdain felt . . . peculiar.

“Since you hold the map,” Shanti said, “you stay behind with me. You”—she put her hand on a soldier’s arm—“take the lead. Let’s go.”

They walked slowly. A short way into the wooded area, the man in the lead noticed someone leaning on a tree in the open. He motioned with his fist to take cover. Shanti signaled Bayla to hide. They waited in the dark forest, heavy with the scent of pine. The lone figure wore no armband. Crouching low, Shanti and another soldier crept up to him. The dead man handed her his sword. She brought it to Bayla, who swung the weapon in its sheath across her back. Its weight on her body was actually comforting.

“He’s one of ours,” Shanti said. “The blue team must be halfway to our flag by now. We don’t have much time.”

They continued toward blue territory and encountered a group of soldiers from the orange team. “We think the blue flag is here,” one said, “just beyond that hill. Three men are guarding it.”

“How many have you lost?”

“Two of ours . . . killed three of theirs.”

“Bayla, come with me and keep low.” The two women crawled through the bushes. Peering over a hill, they saw soldiers with blue armbands lying on the ground. They backed down to the orange team. Shanti asked Bayla, “What do you think?”

“There are eight of us and three of them. We should attack.”

“You think the blue flag’s behind them?”

“It would make sense.”

“It’s not there.” Shanti said.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re purposely showing themselves to us. If they were protecting the flag, they’d be hidden.”

An orange-team soldier approached. “Commander Shanti, we lost four of our team members to the west. They have the area booby trapped with noise-making snares.”

“Booby trapped?”

“I think it’s Commander Jun, but I didn’t stay to find out.”

“When in the hell did he find time to make traps?” She asked Bayla for the map. “Let’s see, we are here.” She put her finger on blue territory. “Where are the traps?”

“About here.”

“My guess is, their flag’s somewhere behind those traps. We might be able to hit them from behind—take everybody along this ridge.” Her finger slid along contour lines. “It may be here or just south. Let’s hope we outnumber them.”

“What about the blue team over this hill?”

“Leave them; they’re a decoy.” She handed the map to Bayla. “Stay with the group.”

Bayla put the map in her shirt. “Where are you going?”

“After Jun.”

*

She saw it only because she was looking for it. If her head had been up and searching for the enemy, she would have missed the trap. Shanti bent down to examine the contraption made from things commonly found in the woods. The noisemaker, if such it was, was simple yet ingenious, though she had no idea how it worked. Leaves rustled behind her. It was too late to defend herself. The blade of a sword lightly touched her back.

“You of all people know not to be out here alone.”

“Nice trap . . .” She spun about to face him. “. . . for someone who works in supply.”

“The dead do not talk.” He put his hand on the orange band and caressed her arm as, ever so slowly, he pulled the armband off. Jun stood closer than was proper, and whispered, “It’s not like you to show so much skin.”

He was mocking her. Shanti would have pushed him if only she weren’t enjoying the warmth of his breath on her cheek, her neck.

“Map.” Black stripes were painted across his face.

She didn’t move.

“Do you want me to search you for it?”

Yes! A rigorous, thorough search, please!
But the woods were too full of eyes—soldiers playing the game. “I don’t have it.”

He put her orange armband in his pocket and headed northward to defend the blue flag.

She studied the strange trap again and realized that Jun didn’t need to cheat. He was just that good.

Shanti picked up a stone, threw it at a tree, and missed. She threw another and another, hurling a great many stones at the tree before the horn sounded. It came from blue territory.

Soldiers, wearing either orange or blue armbands, congregated on the crest of a rolling hill. They stood around Bayla, who held the blue flag. Commander Gy was with them.

“I swear, Commander Shanti!” Someone leaned on her shoulder and laughed. “You should have seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“Squirrels. She had them chasing after squirrels.”

“Looks like I missed all the fun.” Shanti went over to Bayla and crossed her arms. “Squirrels?”

“We won, didn’t we?” A smile lit her black-smudged face.

“You torture me with snakes and scorpions and spiders, and the best you can come up with now is
squirrels
?” She held out her hand. “I’ll take that sword back to its owner.”

Bayla gave her the weapon.

“I believe Commander Gy is waiting to congratulate you, Rega.”

“Rega Bayla,” Gy said in a voice loud enough for everyone there to hear. “It’s time you knew that we’re more than your royal guards. We are guardians of the kingdom, proud protectors of the people of Willovia.” Gy took the short sword in its sheath off his back, held it horizontally in front of his chest, and gave it to Bayla. “And now you are one of us.”

Bayla, the heiress to the Willovian throne, bowed upon receiving the gift. She unsheathed the sword and lifted it to show those around her. It was a simple soldier’s sword, not an elaborate showpiece normally given to impress royalty. The only decoration on the weapon was an engraving of a dragon on the blade.

“Thank you, Commander.” She bowed again as the men cheered.

“Commander Shanti wanted to put a snake on it,” Gy said. “For some reason, she’s very fond of calling you ‘the snake eater.’ I insisted on the dragon.”

“I truly appreciate it.” Bayla swung the gift onto her back and strapped it in place.

“The schedule will be light today. Food and drink await us back at the camp. Enjoy yourselves and get some rest.”

The full moon had sunk low in the sky. Shanti leaned on a tree, away from the crowd, reluctant to join the revelry. The princess had lied at an inquiry and was given not only a sword but also a party. It just wasn’t right.

They assembled in camp, except for the unfortunate men on guard duty and those taking over the cooking duties in Mr. Pascha’s absence. Torches blazed around the food. One soldier wore a purple hat; another played a fiddle. Men clapped in time to the spirited tune. Some sang. Bottles of wine and a keg of ale were set out for the soldiers.

Bayla sat next to Shanti.
“Snake eater?”

Shanti chuckled and wiped paint off her face with a damp rag.

“I need to ask you . . .” But before Bayla could utter another word, a group of soldiers whisked her away to celebrate.

Shanti’s arms felt grimy as she rubbed paint off them. Jun sat down beside her.

“I hear you placed a bounty on my head with the brandy I gave you. That’s low.” He watched everyone having a good time. The atmosphere was cheerful, not rowdy.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “It didn’t work.” Jun still wore the blue armband, although he had taken most of the black paint off. “So you weren’t involved in the great squirrel deception?” she asked.

“No, I missed it. Didn’t get there in time.”

Shanti threw the dirty rag on the ground. “Where did you learn to make traps like that?”

“Quartermaster training,” he said. “Standard procedure.”

Vittorio joined them, and they talked until the woods lightened with the approaching dawn. By the time Shanti made it to her tent, she could barely get her uniform off before falling into bed, exhausted.

*

Bayla washed away the last traces of paint in the river. She emerged from the trees to find Shanti surrounded by men.

“Let’s see you change, Commander,” one of the soldiers said.

“No.”

“That was smashing, the way you scared Pascha!”

“Can you transform into a Nunqua whenever you want?”

“How do you do it?”

“Finally!” Shanti said when she saw Bayla. “What took you so long?” She handed Bayla her new sword as the men went to bathe.

Bayla went into her tent and found a kit for cleaning and sharpening her weapon on the bed—probably put there by Commander Jun. She unsheathed her new sword and touched the smooth metal of the blade, making a few slashes through the air. The weapon was neither too heavy nor too light.

Someone entered the tent from the back.

“Zindar?”

He lifted the palms of his hands toward her. “I just wanted to see you. Don’t be worried.”

Worried?
It was only the strange remark that worried her.

He took her sword and swung it in a half circle, showing off. “Nice. A little small, but perfect for you. Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t . . . I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are.” He slid the sword into its sheath. “I thought we had something.”

His strong body, once so desirable, now filled her with dread. Zindar kissed her, his breath smelling like ale. She went limp in his arms. How could she tell him she didn’t want a relationship, without hurting his feelings?

“I watched you washing in the river,” Zindar said. “Had to sneak away from Shanti. When you two aren’t fighting, she’s guarding you like a damn mother hen.”

Hands moved up and down her back. Bayla squirmed and tried to move away. “This is too fast,” she said. A stupid thing to say, but she wanted him to stop.

Zindar moved her hair, kissed her neck. His wet tongue slid inside her ear. “Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you.”

“No.” Pushing him was like pushing a rock wall. Unwanted hands caressed her everywhere. “Stop!”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, undoing the topmost button on her jacket. Then another. Only the thin wet undershirt beneath her jacket served as a flimsy barrier between them.

“No. Please . . .”

“Please what?” Zindar pressed himself against her, and Bayla shrieked. This couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening?

“Don’t be such a tease.” Hands reached up and felt her breasts. She tried to shove him away, but Zindar wrapped his arms around her.

“No. Stop!” she cried out.

But he was twice her size, and drunk. He ripped open her jacket, causing the bottom buttons to pop off.

The flap to her tent opened. Three soldiers wrenched Zindar away from her and wrestled him to the ground, pummeling him with fists. They forced him into a standing position, arms locked behind his back.

Aiden cocked his fist back and punched Zindar in the face. “Jackass.”

They hauled him away.

Everybody had gathered outside her tent. Everybody knew.
Everybody
.

Bayla pulled the sides of her jacket over the wet undershirt, arms over her chest. She went outside, weaving through the crowd, until she stood beside Commander Gy.

“I will not allow such an act to go unpunished at this camp,” Gy said. “Commander Vittorio, get the whip.”

Vittorio nodded and moved away.

“Commander Shanti,” Gy said, “Rega Bayla will stay with you in your tent.”

Shanti ordered four soldiers to bring Bayla’s cot and things into her tent.

“Inquiry,” Zindar said. “I demand an inquiry.”