Heroes of the Empire, page 18
part #3 of Unari Empire Trilogy Series
“We will go up the road a bit,” Okun said. “From there, we’ll have to cross through some open land. Nobody hangs out there.”
“Open land? What are you talking about?” She hadn’t a clue.
“I thought you were from Cye?” Okun asked, equally confused.
“I lived here once I married Oudrick, but I was born and raised in the Knuria,” she said. “Why? What am I missing?”
“He means the Deadlands,” Hagan said. “I should have guessed.”
“Deadlands?” She’d never heard the term.
“I suppose you’d never had a reason to be out here before,” Okun said.
Belwyn looked to Hagan, still perplexed.
“When the city was smaller, it needed a place to bury those who had no family, no one to ensure a proper resting place,” Hagan explained.
“The poor,” Okun added. “It’s where they dumped the bodies of the poor bastards unfortunate enough to die without Imperials in their pockets.”
“It’s a graveyard?” Belwyn asked. It sounded macabre, but nothing that she couldn’t handle.
“Oh, there are no headstones out there,” Okun said, nodding behind him. “No tombs.”
“People were dumped into mass graves,” Hagan explained. “Then the graves were covered over when they filled up. The land afterwards was . . . untended.”
“That’s one word for it,” Okun said. His two henchmen chuckled.
“I don’t care what it is,” Belwyn yelled, frustration bubbling over. She took a deep breath, regained her composure. “Don’t we need to get going? Can we make it to some kind of safe house tonight?”
“Absolutely,” Okun said.
“Then let’s go.” She strode out of the shack and started walking up the road.
The others fell in behind her, with Okun jogging a little way to catch up with her. “I know you don’t trust me,” he said.
“It’s not a matter of trust,” she said, keeping her eyes forward, down the road. “It’s a matter of time. We’re running out of it, and I need to get into the city. No point in delaying.”
“Fine,” Okun said, jumping in front of her and looking her in the eye. “But when we get to the Deadlands, I need you to actually trust me and do what I say. All right?”
She nodded. “How much further?”
~~~~~
Aton always had backup plans. One time, early in his career as a finder, he’d not thought about what to do if his primary plan blew up in his face. It had. He’d not only lost the job, but had to repay the money he’d already gotten and eat all his expenses. He was thankful for that experience now, waiting on Belwyn and Hagan. He thought he would be the one to escort them through the city to the apartment that would become their safe house. He hadn’t even considered they might get split up.
When the boat showed up and it was clear Aton couldn’t go with Belwyn and Hagan, he had to think fast. His mind instantly went to the place where he’d done so much business over the years, including business with Okun. No matter how much he tried to stay away, Aton couldn’t.
Now here he was, standing at the bar at The Ferry, waiting on . . . who, exactly? He’d told Okun he could be trusted with the location of the safe house they were going to last night, but Okun hadn’t told him where it was. He understood the need for caution but thought Okun was being a bit paranoid. Maybe it was his way of showing Aton that he still didn’t really trust him, a kind of petty revenge. Aton realized he deserved it.
At least he knew where they’d be afterwards and knew they’d be safe. Aton had put together a series of places around the city, rooms in pubs and public buildings where they could meet with some privacy. Meeting at The Ferry every day was too risky, with too many soldiers and vigilance gang members on the nearby streets.
That assumed that Belwyn could actually move around the city without being recognized. Her face had been on the front page of every Cye newspaper for weeks, along with wanted posters, both official and otherwise, for even longer. If anybody in the Empire didn’t know her on a glance, it was only because they didn’t want to.
Aton was looking at his watch when someone ran into him.
“Hey!” he yelled, grabbing the shuffling woman as she tried to move on. “You should look up when you’re walking, you won’t run into people.”
A slight grin was all he could see of the woman beneath her tight-fitting hood. “If I did that, don’t you think people might recognize me?”
It took him a moment. “Belwyn?” he whispered.
“Come,” she said, nodding. “Hagan is outside, keeping watch. Should we get to work?”
Aton nodded, taking just a moment to be relieved that they were all right. “Yes. We’ve got lots to do.”
Chapter 19
What surprised Gelso was how quiet Liberation was when she was underway. He’d never been to sea before, but he’d been on a few river cruises with his family, quick jaunts to Port Ambs and back, and those vessels creaked and clanged with effort. Paddle wheels smashed the water, engines chugged black smoke into the air, and various bits of the beast groaned when asked to turn or make some other maneuver. He had expected the same, if not worse, from a vessel plowing across the high seas. Yet all there was to Liberation was the quiet hum of its bosonium-powered drive. He thought he could feel it more than hear it, the low vibration seeping up through his feet, into his stomach, and on into his head. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was there almost all the time, just enough so he couldn’t ignore it.
What noise there was on the journey came courtesy of the crew. They worked all day, up on deck and below, at numerous tasks Gelso had no idea needed to be done before he came on board. Now he wished he had talked more with Aton about his time on the ship, when it had been called Tenacious. He had been a regular crew member and knew this world, at least a little bit. Gelso, however, was a paid passenger, and so he was left to watch as others scurried around, yelling commands and insults at each other and generally making a racket. At least up on deck the sound dissipated quickly, carried away on the salty sea air. At night, after supper, when most of the crew were congregated in the mess for drinks and card games, the cacophony was deafening.
That was why, when he was offered a chance to take a night watch, Gelso leapt at the chance. He was able to keep his distance from the crew during the day, as they worked, just by staying out of the way. At night, however, it was more suspicious if he just locked himself up in his cabin and read. Taking a watch not only gave him solitude, it allowed him to pitch in with the work on board, if only a little bit. In the crow’s nest it was mostly quiet, with just the lapping of the waves against the ship’s hull and the rustle of flags in the breeze to keep him company.
The one thing he missed up in the crow’s nest was warmth. The picture of the Southern Islands in the minds of people in the Empire was that it was all warmth and sun, but even here it got cold at night. That was made worse by the constant breeze from the moving ship and the crow’s nest being dozens of feet above the deck and completely exposed. Gelso put the binoculars he had been using to scan the horizon down and pulled his coat to him again. If he couldn’t keep the cold out, at least he might keep some warmth in.
Each shift of the watch lasted two hours. Over the past few nights, everyone who had relieved him had been punctual. Still, he worried that one of these cold nights he might be left up here to fend for himself for hours. He appreciated that the crew didn’t seem to trust him. Whether that was due to his association with Aton or simply because they didn’t really know him, he couldn’t tell.
He was surprised when he heard footsteps on the metal stairs leading up to the crow’s nest less than halfway through his watch. Unless he found something, there was no reason for anyone to join him up here and, so far, the night and the sea were empty. He shuffled to one side of the nest, hard up against the railing, away from the ladder to give whoever was coming as much room as possible.
“Anything interesting, sailor?” Ilyndra asked, pulling herself up into the nest.
“No, sir,” he said with a quick salute. At least he’d learned one thing since he’d been aboard. “Something I can do for you?”
“Just though I’d come up and see how you’re getting on.” She grasped the railing and gazed out over the black, open sea.
“Doing as well as I can, I suppose.”
She looked at him, head cocked.
“No one has actually told me what I’m looking for,” he explained. “I mean, what is there to see out here?”
“Lights, mostly, given where we are,” she said. “Other ships. Pirates.”
“Pirates?” Gelso hadn’t considered the possibility. “I thought those only lived in children’s’ adventure tales.”
“Sadly not,” she said. “Ask your friend Aton about pirates when you get back. He can tell you all about them.”
Gelso made a mental note to do just that. “Anything else?”
“What you’re mostly looking for is something out of the ordinary,” she explained. “During the day it’s more about looking for land, for an island or something that might be where it shouldn’t. Harder to do that at night, of course.”
Gelso shivered against the cold. He took note that the captain, wearing nothing more than her usual greatcoat, seemed completely at ease.
“First time at sea?” she asked.
He nodded.
“You’re doing better than most,” she said. “You can really feel the ship when it rolls up here, although Liberation is pretty stable, given its design. Hard to deal with the nights on deck, though.”
“Indeed, sir,” he said, trying to look warmer than he was. He added, “But I am glad to do this, happy to be of use.”
“You’d better be,” she said, chuckling.
He stared at her, unsure whether there was some sort of unspoken threat.
“Normally, if you’re on this ship, you work,” she explained. “Aton did it. Hell, that’s what got him into so much trouble, did it too well.”
“I’m willing to work,” Gelso said, more defensive than intended. As if freezing in the crow’s nest wasn’t proof of that. “I can do whatever anyone else can.”
“No, you can’t,” she said, staring at him. “Aton hadn’t been on a ship before, either, but he’s a physical guy. Knows how to do the hard work, the dirty stuff. You? You strike me as more of a scholar, a man of books. Nothing wrong with that, mind you. Some of the sailors might say otherwise, but that’s dumb. They’re just defensive. Smarts are important. Honestly, how long do you think you’d last swabbing the deck?”
The thought of it made him flinch. “So this is, what, busywork? Sir?”
“No,” she said, shrugging. “It has to be done, but it’s not likely to be critical. You’ve got the best eyes on the ship now, all the way up here, but you’re not the only one looking. Even at this time of night. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Did Aton tell you I couldn’t work?” Gelso had a flash of anger at the thought.
She shook her head. “No, but you aren’t something we normally have on this ship.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“A paying passenger.” She looked around, like she was taking in the view. “How much longer are you here?”
“Another hour, about.”
“When you’re done, come find me in my office,” she said, heading for the stairs. “We’ll talk. And you’ll warm up.”
She was gone before he could object. Alone again, Gelso took up the binoculars and looked out to sea.
~~~~~
Gelso had never been so thankful for his perfect memory. He’d always been able to remember something after only reading it once. Before now, he hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to apply that skill to other ways of learning. When he came on board, Ilyndra’s XO, Giunta, had shown Gelso around the ship, taking him all the places he might need to go during the voyage. Up on deck it was simple enough, but belowdecks the ship was like a warren made by burrowing animals, with corridors that all looked the same intersecting with each other every few feet.
At one point, they’d come to Ilyndra’s office. She wasn’t there at the time, but Giunta made sure Gelso knew where it was. “Every sailor on board should know where the captain’s likely to be,” he had said. “For ours, that’s right here, at her desk, at work.”
Gelso thought about that as he wove his way through the corridors toward her office. He supposed it spoke well of Ilyndra, of her dedication to her crew and their mission, that she would be at work almost constantly. It also struck him as depressing, as if she could never really get away from the grueling realities of running the ship. If anyone could delegate about those things, shouldn’t it be the captain? Isn’t that why she had an XO in the first place?
He only got himself turned around once, near the armory, a place he found oddly comforting. The door was locked up tight, but there were no guards. It made Gelso feel like arms were a true last resort, not something that a hot-headed crew member could get a hold of easily. If this door was unlocked, something truly had gone wrong. He took a moment, then doubled back to the mess and got his bearings before heading out for Ilyndra’s office again.
When he reached the end of the corridor, the door was partly open. There was no one outside, no one to keep him out of the captain’s hair. It told Gelso that there was a mutual respect between Ilyndra and the crew. She knew they wouldn’t waste her time and they left her alone to do her job. He wondered if Stanley Glass, who had built this ship and commanded it with an iron fist before he was killed, had done the same. He couldn’t imagine it.
Gelso knocked on the door softly, not wanting to just barge in.
“Come in,” Ilyndra said.
Gelso stepped in and pulled the door nearly shut behind him.
The captain was sitting behind a wooden desk, feet up, glass of amber liquid in her hand. She was positioned so she could look out of the windows that defined the corner office. A perk of command, Gelso supposed.
“Still fighting off the chill?” she asked.
“Yes, sir.” There was a pair of chairs on the other side of the desk. The wall was dotted with charts and a few pieces of abstract metal design. It was crowded, but not cluttered; efficient and practical. On the far wall, out of place compared to the rest of the decor, was a painting, a portrait of a stern older woman.
“Sit,” Ilyndra said, turning in her chair to grab a bottle behind her. It was secured in a rack, presumably to keep the bottles in place during rough seas. “A little Maranese nectar will set you right.” She grabbed another glass, poured until it was about a third full, and passed it to Gelso.
He took the glass and studied the contents. The liquid was thick and deep red with hints of brown. It caught the dancing flames of the lamplight on the desk like magic. “What is it, exactly?”
She topped off her own glass, put the bottle back, then reclined again in her seat. “Not sure. They make it on the shores of Lake Maran in the Commonwealth of Medzo. Whatever it is they use to make it can only grow on the slopes of the hills there. All I know is that it is a nice late-night treat.”
Gelso raised the glass to his lips. The nectar smelled sweet, almost like honey. He slowly took a sip and felt the heat of whatever was in it on his lips and tongue almost immediately. His eyes went wide, and he thought he was going to have to embarrass himself and spit it out when it turned from hot to sweet in his mouth. He swallowed. It was like a ribbon of sugar coating his throat.
“What do you think?” Ilyndra grinned.
“I’ve never had anything like it, that’s for certain.” Gelso filed the experience away along with the delicate cake Aton had introduced him to in the Cye market before he left to find the Circle of Rend. “Is it potent, sir?”
“If you drink the whole bottle yourself. You’ll never get back up,” she said. “Strictly a sometimes thing. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” He took another sip. Knowing what was coming, he enjoyed it. While he savored the nectar, his eyes kept drifting back to the portrait on the wall. He could swear the woman in the painting was judging him, probably for drinking. He gestured to it with his glass. “Is this your, um, mother, sir?”
Ilyndra put her glass down and looked like she might tear him in two, her eyes boring into him. Then she laughed out loud, in a way that he hadn’t been certain she was able to do. After a moment, she regained her composure. “No, it is not my mother. You know about Glass, right? This ship was his before . . .” She left the sentence unfinished.
“Before Aton smashed his head in with a pickaxe?” Gelso had seen the stories in the papers about Glass’s death, the cover story. He was certain Ilyndra knew the truth. He wanted her to know that he did too.
“Thank the gods,” she said, sighing with relief. “I suppose Aton told you all about it.”
He nodded again. “Does the crew know?”
She shook her head. “The command staff made the decision not to tell the rest of the crew the truth. That was Aton’s idea, but really, it’s the only way we could have done it. Maybe half of them are left? Of the command staff, a few stayed on after we returned to port in Releva, but most of them have slipped away since. I think it was hard for them to keep working on the ship, knowing what happened. I don’t even know if I have a legal claim to it, if anybody came to take it. Nobody’s tried yet.”
Gelso made note of that information and decided not to mention Glass’s death again. “So this woman is who, Glass’s wife?”
“Mother,” Ilyndra said. “I don’t remember her name.”
“Then why keep it in here, sir?” he said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
She looked at the painting and thought for a moment. “I took it down at first. Covered it with a sheet. I didn’t want her looking at me, you know? Whatever hold she had on Glass—he never talked about her, so I have no idea if it was love or fear or something else—she didn’t have it over me. After a few days, I had to put it back up.”
