Lady of the Star Wind (21 page)

“Rothan told us, the populace fled through the Empty Lands, and the survivors ended up founding new cities in Nakhtiaar.” Ancient history on alien planets didn’t much interest him, new home or not. He was jaded after spending years being dropped on strange worlds for brief missions and then moving on to the next place, the next urgent job. “Maybe the Travelers didn’t set as much store by the mirror as you do. I mean, the crown is a beautiful piece of artwork, but it’s just an object, not a weapon.”

“I feel as if we have a connection to whoever lived here before, as if the items were left for us to find.” She paused, wrapping his cloak around herself more securely. “You didn’t see anything unusual when you were in the vault with Rothan?”

Mark repressed the disturbing memory of those moments, glad she couldn’t read his mind. “No.”

“I wish I could have gone in there with you.” She lifted the mirror from her belt, stared at the blackened surface in the moonlight, and let it fall. “If it could only tell us. I think all the answers are there.” She stared at the two moons in the sky. “Amrell and Terali tonight.” She sighed as she sat. “I can’t remember my dreams anymore from the venom-induced coma. I knew things when I first awakened, and now I can’t recall them, which is frustrating.”

“What kind of things?” Mark searched for a blanket, wrapping her securely in the one he located, then sat beside her, poking at the fire to make it provide more heat against the chill of the night.

Sandy glared at him before rubbing her forehead as she did when she had a headache. “Don’t laugh. I received so much knowledge, heard so many important things, and now it’s mostly lost.”

“I’m not laughing.” He moved behind her and massaged her shoulders as best he could through the blanket.

“You’re skeptical, though.”

“Don’t build too much on whatever the neurotoxins in the snake venom made you dream,” Mark said. “But if you need to know something, it’ll come back.”

“You think so?” Sandy seemed to find the idea comforting.

Mark hadn’t thought the remark through before he said it. He wanted to end the conversation, which was making him uncomfortable because he didn’t like any discussion of the strange things she’d hallucinated in her coma. He wanted to avoid reminders of the whole episode. Now he took a second, adding twigs to the fire while he searched his mind for something innocuous to add. “It’s like me and my hypno training on languages—I don’t remember them all, all the time. It takes a trigger, a…a need, and then the right one comes up, like the High Chetal did on the day we met Rothan and Tia.”

Sandy appeared to find the concept reasonable, saying, “Makes sense. And the harder I try to remember it, the less I’ll be able to recall.”

“I think so, yes. Come to bed now and rest, even if you can’t sleep, okay?”

A moment or two after he’d tucked her into her bedroll, he realized she was snoring. Reclining, he soon drifted into sleep again himself.

In the morning, in the bright sunlight, all the talk of the ancient past seemed as if it belonged to another world. Jagrahim’s warriors prepared a quick breakfast of journeybread and salty dried fish.

“May we see the crown just once, before you bear it away to Nakhtiaar?” Jagrahim made his request humbly as his men broke camp. “My people have been responsible for the city and its contents for so long, I should like to gaze upon Khunarum’s greatest possession.”

“Of course. I should have thought to show you yesterday,” Rothan said in an apologetic tone. “My mind and my body were worn out from our endeavors in the sunken palace.”

He pulled the box out of the pack it was stored in and opened the lid. The crown gleamed in the sun.
 

Leaning over, Jagrahim peered at the small scroll. “What’s this?”

“It was in Khunarum’s hand. Or, rather, the statue’s hand, and it seemed to me at the time we’d better take it along. Is there a problem?” Confused by his own spur-of-the-moment decision, Mark was defensive. Not being able to offer crisp reasoning for his action annoyed him.

“No, of course not. You were there, not I. If the scroll wasn’t meant to go with the crown, you wouldn’t have it. May I see?” Jagrahim didn’t wait for permission but fished it out of the box and unrolled it.

“Can you read it?” Sandy crowded close. “What does it say?”

“Is it a message of some sort?” Rothan asked.

Jagrahim held up a hand for silence. “This ancient script is hard to read. I need quiet to concentrate. Sallea, come translate this with me. You’re more proficient on this alphabet than any other reader.”

His daughter strolled over, taking a quick glance. “It’s a list of some kind.”

“Yes, that’s my conclusion as well,” her father agreed.

“A list?” Disappointed because he’d been hoping for some message from beyond the grave, something dramatic, Mark silently chided himself for letting himself get lost in the myths.

“Yes.” Sallea nodded. “Khunarum’s Artifacts, it says at the top, and then see here, it says Crown, Scepter, Sword, Goblet, Dagger, and so forth. About twenty items. The words opposite are family names, I believe.”

“Some overzealous scribe worked overtime. Imagine sticking around to make a list like this when the whole city was shaking apart, falling on your head.” Mark vented his disappointment in the prosaic nature of the scroll by being sarcastic.

Rothan plucked the scroll from Jagrahim’s hands, rolled it up, and handed it to Mark. “This is yours.”

“Mine?” Mark had to juggle not to drop it in the sand.

“You were moved to take it, and Khunarum allowed you to have it. Therefore, it’s yours.” The captain was matter-of-fact. He sealed the box and stowed it safely in the chariot.

The Mikkonite drifted away, returning to their chores breaking camp.

“I guess you have another souvenir.” Sandy laughed at him.

“What do I do with it?”

“Oh here, give the scroll to me. I’ll tuck it in my medical bag for safekeeping. Maybe we can frame it someday, proof we really were here once upon a time. It’s too unique to throw away.”

“You want it, it’s yours. Gift from me to you.” Mark bowed. “I think we’d better mount up now. Looks like our friends are ready to get out of here.”

“We should reach our trading post in midafternoon,” Jagrahim told them as they rode out of the sheltered cove. “And if we’re in luck, there’ll be a ship in port. I’m hoping for Captain Demari. He’s a Minolan, and I trust him above the others. He’ll get you to Nakhtiaar without asking too many questions.”

“Demari is a scoundrel.” Sallea didn’t sound like an admirer of the seafarer.

“He keeps his bargains, which is what matters here. And he’s an excellent seaman.”

“How much trading do you do?” Mark guided his suddenly skittish horse past a clump of seaweed.

“Not much. I prefer to keep a low profile. And the traders are never allowed beyond our small coastal enclave, so none gain the knowledge of where my villages lie. But there are certain things we can’t grow or make for ourselves. It’s also wise to have at least limited contact with the rest of the world, to hear the news.”

“The legend says the first trading ship was driven ashore in our cove when the city of Khunarum was destroyed,” Sallea said. “Our people helped rebuild the ship after signing a treaty between the Mikkonite and the captain to maintain the relationship. And so it has gone, through the ages to now.”

“Yes, and the first trader captain married a daughter of our people.” Jagrahim winked.

“Well, I wouldn’t marry a seaman. I’ve no desire to go onto the ocean on a tiny ship. The treaty will have to survive without such a sacrifice on my part.” Hand on her hip, Sallea fumed, indignant. “I’ll take a husband from our own people when I’m good and ready.”

“Any danger of the trading relationships breaking down?” As he asked the follow-up question, Mark realized he’d automatically shifted into data-gathering mode. Collecting hard intel was good, familiar, far removed from mystical artifacts and strange messages from long-dead kings.

Jagrahim frowned. “Sometimes the ships don’t come on schedule. Certain captains no longer make landfall, and no one has heard of them. More are missing than the storms and reefs of the ocean usually account for in a given time.”

“Any idea what’s going on?”

The chief shook his head. “Rumors, no more. The men of Maiskhan are known to seek extension of their influence to those who sail freely on the oceans.”

Rothan spat. “They’re greedy, and their god is evil. I’ve no trouble believing Maiskhan seeks dominion over those who have freedom of the seas. I can’t believe Farahna invites them into the heart of our land. How can she be so foolhardy? So stupid?”

“Hutenen will set it all right.” Tia’s sunny smile showed how unconcerned she felt. “As soon as we bring him the crown and Lady Sandy cures him of the poison.”

Mark and Sandy exchanged glances but said nothing. The longer this expedition went on, the more Mark wondered if Hutenen remained alive to take possession of the crown. How long would a despotic usurper queen wait to kill her rival? But Tia and Rothan seemed confident, so they must have known something he didn’t about the situation. Perhaps Farahna had other plans for Hutenen than a convoluted assassination.
 

Jagrahim spoke up. “And the completion of my task is to get you there. See, there’s a ship waiting.” He pointed down the coast, where Mark saw a mast extending above the headland. “No more talk, we need to ride hard, lest the captain set sail before we arrive.”

When Mark rounded the headland a short time later, he found a large ship at anchor in the cove. Five Mikkonite and three or four sailors were taking a meal break beside a fire, rising as the newcomers arrived in a flurry of sand.

Jagrahim got his wish about which free trader would be in port. Mark liked Demari once introductions had been made and the bargaining commenced. The seaman had an easygoing manner and didn’t ask too many questions.
 

“I don’t carry passengers as a rule.” Stroking his short beard, Demari wore the air of a man considering his options. “Cargo has less risk and fewer complications in this unsettled time.”

“We can pay well for the passage,” Rothan told him impatiently. “We must get to the city as soon as possible.”

Demari took a moment to eye Rothan as if assessing his potential as an adversary. He yelled some instruction to his first mate about the loading of the cargo, and then reopened the subject of their passage with him. “It’ll be rough for the women, but they can share my second cabin. Cramped quarters.”

“We’ll be fine.” Sandy apparently had no doubts. Tia nodded but without conviction. She glanced at the
Lady Dawn
, rolling from side to side in the waves even in the sheltered cove. Apprehension was plain in the tense set of the Nakhtiaar noblewoman’s shoulders.

“How long is the journey?” Mark asked.

“If the sea god favors us and the winds blow well, a week, maybe two. First, we sail out to the open sea to avoid the reefs, set a course westward along the coast, and navigate into the mouth of the river.”

“So long?” Hands on his hips, mouth a thin line, Rothan looked to the sky as if hoping the gods would deliver a better alternative.

“Better than trying to go overland again, what with the sandstorms,” Mark answered. “This stacks up as our best bet.”

Some spirited negotiation followed over the price. A quantity of the gold coins changed hands, and the matter was settled.

“You can go out to the ship in the next boat, then, my lords, ladies.” Demari shook hands with Rothan and then with Mark. Excusing himself, he strode down the beach to direct his crew.

“We’ll stay to see you off,” Jagrahim told them.

“We couldn’t have completed our quest without your help, sir,” Rothan said. “I’m grateful, and my prince will be as well.”

“You had the right to request our assistance, my lord.” Jagrahim hesitated for a moment. “My people owe you allegiance because you hold the crown.”

Rothan made a gesture as if waving the remark away. “I took the crown for my prince, for Hutenen, not for myself.”

“Nonetheless, I’m honor bound to place my tribe and myself at your service. Should you ever have need of our assistance in any way, you have but to send a summons. Mikkon will answer, this I swear by our gods.”

“Thank you. And the reverse is true,” Rothan said. “Can we ever be of assistance to you—”

“We’ll send word.” Jagrahim bowed. “There’s another matter.” He glanced at Sallea. “I wish to send my daughter with you, as my ambassador. The recent events you’ve shared with us tell me we lack sufficient involvement in the affairs of the wider world. Your people are so ignorant of mine, of what conditions are here in this area. And for my part, I want to know what transpires with your prince, with the Maiskhan. Sallea can send Lakht to me periodically with word. It would be good for her to spend time at a royal court, see how others live in different fashion. Then she can return to me in a few months’ time, when matters are settled in Nakhtiaar.”

“It would be my honor,” Sallea said as she became the center of attention.
 

“I’ll personally guarantee your safe passage as an ambassador,” Rothan said.