Oathen (10 page)

~~~

The retreat from the Aldib compound was swift
and orderly. The pirates’ vessels slipped away into the night,
never to return.

But the damage to the House of Aldib was
irreversible. Kemsil had made sure of that. With House Nabal as a
witness to the successful pirate raid and the loss of the Circuit
of Sa’qal, Aldib’s eventual destruction was a certainty. He had
even wreaked his personal revenge on Alima.

While the crew aboard the
Princeling
began to celebrate with bottles of Aldib’s best champagne, Rhona
ordered Sanych below to her cabin. While she closed the door behind
her, Sanych stood beside the narrow table, not wanting to sit and
make herself even shorter in the angry pirate’s
presence.

“You deaf, wench?” Rhona began. “Because I
know I heard myself order you to stay at the cliff’s edge. Not to
mention aboard the
Princeling
before that!”

Sanych tensed, unused to hearing such obvious
anger unleashed in her direction. “You don’t get to tell me where
to go and when to stay,” she began.

“Oh, I don’t? I think I do. I
think
I’m
the captain of this ship, and of the entire fleet that’s carrying
you, your precious prince, and his straitlaced bodyguard to Shanal
with the Seamother. I
think
I can dump all three of you
Vintens over the side in the first fey mood that takes me. None of
my crew will object. They know the rules! Something I can’t say for
you. No one really needs you here; this story will be told with or
without your help. Or do you think your dear, sweet princeling
might mourn you for an afternoon or so?” She gave an ugly
chuckle.

“I’d do more than mourn, Rhona.” Meena’s cool
voice issued from behind the silk curtains that partitioned the
room. “I’d make you turn this dear, sweet
Princeling
around
and go back for her, and if need be, I’d drive a hook through your
arse and toss you overboard as bait.” The Shanallar pulled the silk
drape aside and let the weight of her gaze rest on Rhona. “If
Sanych comes to harm, by your hand or by another’s, through intent
or neglect, there will be consequences so dire that I’ll make the
Prime of Agonbloom look like a flagrant-winged prissbird during
mating season.”

“Seamother…I didn’t know you were—”

“I am everywhere, wench. Like the very sea
itself. And the only person the Seamother needs is Sanych elTiera.
Like it or not, your mission is to get her to Shanal alive and
whole. You do not punish her for doing the task I have assigned
her. That will be for me to do, should I see fit. Is my point sharp
enough for you?”

“Very sharp, Seamother.” Rhona seemed aghast
at the speed with which she’d submitted to Meena. After a moment,
she turned to Sanych and added, “You’re free to go.”

Sanych slid past her, looking away from
Rhona’s hard stare.

~~~

Rhona watched Sanych slither out the door. She
could feel her own anger thrusting after the wench like an
invisible dagger, yet at the same time, the Seamother’s presence
behind her blunted its tip to uselessness.

She dared to kiss my princeling. Geret is
mine!
she raged.
But with the Seamother’s protection, I
can’t touch her. There’s only one choice left, and I need to act
now, or all my plans will fail. I can’t lose him; I can’t lose my
future.

She turned to Meena, who watched her with
interest. “Let’s have some more of that freshly-liberated
champagne, shall we, Seamother? After you.”

Meena grinned and led the way up on deck.
Behind her, Rhona took a deep breath, building her courage.
Gods
above, make him say aye!

She edged her way against the rail beside
Geret while Meena sat down on the deck beside Sanych. Champagne
bubbled and golden goblets winked in the blue lamplight as everyone
enjoyed the liquid spoils of their raid.

Most of the crew were in mid-song,
entertaining their guests with the
Redemption of Trea
Kinnartha
. It told the tale of a young captain with such
supercilious behavior that her own crew tossed her overboard,
disbelieving her warnings about an erupting Clan war. Loyal to her
crew nonetheless, Trea and her sea monster destroyed the enemy
vessel that attacked her ship, giving her life for them and
redeeming her in their eyes.

Rhona knew her own crew intended the song as a
compliment to her for the successful raid on Aldib, but she’d never
cared for this particular Lay of the Worthy, nor the way most
Clansfolk took the crew’s side, blaming Captain Trea for her own
fate. She stopped and sang along anyway, though.

“And the
Half
-
farthing
swelled
with their riotous cries!

The crew mutinied under the night’s darkened
skies,

Heaving o’er to the sea the gods’ most favored
prize:

The soul and the will of a
captain.”

The singers with drinks in their hands took an
inter-stanza gulp, as was tradition. Someone handed a full glass to
Rhona.

“
But the gods, they were stymied;
not yet could they feast,

For young Trea Kinnartha, she summoned her
beast,

And she mounted its carapace, driving it
east

With the soul and the will of a
captain.

Yon, Clan Deeplight struck swift, with aim
deadly and true,

Using mirrors and sunlight, confounding her
crew

Just as Trea Kinnartha had warned, for she
knew

In the soul, in the will of a
captain.

With a howl, she attacked with her beast and
her blade

For nor vengeance, nor victory would be
delayed!

As she perished, heart twained, to the gods
her crew prayed

For the soul and the will of their
captain.

Now the waters are calm and the seasons have
turned,

And the arrogant rage in her heart’s long
since burned,

Final sacrifice giv’n, final glory
well-earned

By the soul and the will of the
captain!”

Rhona took a final drink, draining her glass,
and hid a grimace. The
Lays
reflected the harshness of Clan
life and the strength needed to overcome its challenges. While
promising success in spite of flaws, the
Lays
never flinched
from detailing the cost of that success. Rhona found the
contemplation of future cost distracting. Wasn’t it better to act
decisively based on the here and now? She thought so.

Time passed in more song and genial jesting.
Sanych fell asleep, head pillowed on Meena’s thigh in the light of
the ship’s jellyfish lamps. Rhona stepped away from the rail,
drawing attention to herself. She turned to Geret; his eyes were
bright, and his cheeks were flushed with the good champagne they
had stolen. She took his free hand and pulled him to his feet,
saying, “You did well tonight on the raid, Geret. Such a hero is
worthy of the captain’s eyes.”

The crew clapped and sniggered, and Geret
sketched a wobbly bow. Siela, Rhona’s second mate, giggled with
several of her crewmates. “Is he worthy of anything else the
captain might ‘ave upon ‘er person?” she slurred.

Rhona’s eyes drifted to Sanych, then to Meena.
The Seamother’s eyes were unreadable in the blue lamplight.
This
is my blood-crusty ship, no matter who else is on board!
Looking back up at Geret’s smiling face, she said, “I believe he
is.”

“Is he worthy of the captain’s nose?” someone
called.

“Nay, he wants for a bath first,” Rhona
replied. The crew chortled.

“Is he worthy of the captain’s
hair?”

“Nay, he’s clearly got no notion of style with
his own!” She giggled. “But I do believe he may be worthy of being
claimed by the captain’s lips.” She reached up and drew Geret’s
chin down with one hand, then kissed the prince amid the cheers and
jests of her fellow Clansmen and Clanswomen.

Off-balanced by her action, Geret stumbled
into Rhona and caught himself with his arms around her.

“‘
Ware, it appears he may not be
worthy of the captain’s deck boards either,” Siela called. She
began a whistle that imitated the sound of an incoming cannonball,
ending it by clattering the heels of her boots against the deck.
Others joined in, and soon Geret and Rhona were surrounded by the
sounds of cannonballs and laughter.

“What ho, Cap’n Rhona? Do you need your
princeling to help you hold a fork, in case your hands are too
curled from hoarding swag?”

The Clansfolk made cannonball whistles and
thumped the deck loudly, laughing.

“Or maybe,” another added, “she needs his
unsalted eyes to read her charts for her.”

Again the crew whistled and stomped their
feet, then broke into laughter. Rhona soaked it all in, feeling
flushed with triumph. Geret hadn’t rejected her advance, despite
what she had seen between Sanych and him from the cliff top on
Aldib. If she gambled right, she knew she could return home with
not only a completed Age Quest, but a solid alliance with a
dirtwalker realm to aid in her rise to power. Not even her mother
had managed to shoot so high.

“
I
don’t care how far you run, Anjoya,” her sister hissed as she
matched her steps along Salience Harbor’s stone pier. “You can’t
escape your own cowardice.”

Anjoya strode forward without looking at her,
stepping down onto one of the many wide wooden piers that quilted
the dark waters of the harbor.

“Come now, Ethari,” she replied, “we both know
it’ll be even easier for you to prop yourself up with your hostess
friends when I’m gone. Why are you fighting this?”

Ethari’s nostrils flared, and they took a few
paces in silence toward a large galleon in the process of having
its holds stuffed with goods. “It’s not about my reputation,
Anjoya. It’s about my safety.”

At that, Anjoya paused, frowning.

“You know what I mean,” Ethari insisted. “The
Jualans who are after your fool of a lover will come looking for
him here sooner or later. When they don’t find him, they’ll look
for you. When they can’t find you, doesn’t it seem obvious that
they’ll come looking for me next?”

Anjoya resumed her walking. She wasn’t
surprised that Ethari valued her only as a buffer between herself
and possible violence. “I don’t see the problem. You know where I’m
going. Just tell them.”

“You think me the type to simply hand over my
own blood to ruthless killers?” Ethari asked, placing a hand
dramatically over her bosom.

Count Braal Runcan waited for Anjoya a few
paces away, next to their boxes and duffels. She gave him a patient
smile, then turned to her sister again. “Yes, I do. Especially
since I’m telling you to do it if it’ll save you some trouble.
House Aldib will never sail all the way to Cyrmant to ask me the
whereabouts of their missing bridegroom. And you: you could have
stayed in Greater Salience and bitched in someone else’s ear today.
It may have escaped your notice, but I’m a little preoccupied with
fleeing the country to stroke your ego this morning.”

Runcan lifted his eyebrows at her. Anjoya knew
that, after all his time in Salience, he would recognize that such
an impatient tone from a hostess approximated to screaming
obscenities at the top of her lungs.

Ethari tsked and crossed her arms. “You’ll
never be a proper hostess if you keep blurting such horrible things
out in public, dear.”

“I’m done being a hostess, proper or not.
Those crates by Count Runcan are all we’re taking with us. I’ve
given all my outfits, my recipes and decorations to the Lesser
Salience Hostesses’ Guild.”

“There’s no such thing.”

Anjoya smiled. “There is now. Count Runcan
petitioned a charter from the caliph yesterday, on my behalf.
You’ll never push around a Lesser Salience hostess again, Ethari.
Not without irreplaceable personal loss.”

Runcan approached them during the lull in
which Ethari struggled for something to say. To Anjoya, he said,
“Our goods are next for loading aboard Captain Naizmin’s good
galleon
Shoon
. We should board soon ourselves; I’m confident
he’s double booked his hammock space for extra profit, seeing as
this is one of the first ships to enter the harbor in
months.

Anjoya nodded and headed for the nearest
gangplank. Behind her, she heard the muted jingle of a pouch full
of coins.

“Here,” Runcan told her sister, tossing her
the pouch. “For your time as an escort.”

Ethari caught the pouch awkwardly, flushing at
the ribald teasing of the nearby deck hands. Anjoya allowed herself
a wicked little smile.

Runcan caught up to her and took her elbow,
guiding her to the gangplank. She looked over at him, as they were
of a height, and he returned a bland look for a moment, then winked
at her. “One may hear any amount of gossip in the foyer of the
caliph’s receiving room. Even friars love to chatter. Now, let’s go
reserve ourselves some prime hammock space.”

~~~

In the glow of the successful raid, the
Clansfolk continued their boisterous conversation far into the
night, before reluctantly heading below or to their stations for
the remainder of the night. Rhona took Geret’s hand and announced
that, since Geret was under her protection, she was going to tuck
him safely into his bunk, eliciting ribald comments and laughter
from her crew.