Snake Heart (30 page)

Kei circled, landed on his shoulder, and spoke a stream of Kyattese words as he shook out his talons like a scribe shaking a cramped writing hand.

“That wasn’t one of his usual terms,” Arayevo said. “Does he actually know something besides insults?”

“He said, ‘More worthless than a pregnant whore,’” Dak translated. “Referring to the lodestone, I assume, not Yanko.”

Arayevo blinked. “It’s hard to believe the Kyattese had a citizen crusty enough to teach the bird to say those kinds of things.”

Dak grunted. “Honest enough, is more like it. Those people don’t speak plainly very often.”

The pirate boats had all left the beach by the time Yanko and the others reached the water’s edge. As his mother and Gramon disappeared onto their ship, the first Turgonian ironclad came into view, clouds of black smoke wafting from the twin stacks protruding from its deck. It had neither sails nor the elegance of a wooden ship, and Yanko couldn’t see its black hull as anything but ominous as it followed the contours of the island, heading for an anchoring spot in front of the beach. The situation felt even more ominous when several more black-hulled ships came into view, following the first.

The pirate vessels sailed off before the ironclads drew close. Yanko wondered if he might have been better off going with them.

Dak headed toward the water, a spring in his step that did not match Yanko’s mood. Happy at the idea of being reunited with his people, was he? He did not look back as he strode away. Just trusting Yanko to follow?

“Are we going with him?” Arayevo asked quietly.

Yanko peered toward the cliffs behind them. They could climb up, the same way the mage hunter had, but to what end? The island was not that large, and with that many ships, the Turgonians could bring a hundred men ashore to search for Yanko. If he went along peacefully, Dak might arrange for Yanko, Arayevo, and Lakeo to have a cabin, rather than a cell. A cabin would be easier to escape from if an opportunity arose. Though as more ironclads steamed into view, Yanko could not imagine what that opportunity might be. Even his mother, assuming she survived her injury, wouldn’t be so foolish as to take on an entire Turgonian fleet.

“Yanko?” Arayevo bumped his arm.

“Yes. We’ll go with him.” Yanko sighed and trudged after Dak.

Chapter 21

T
he wooden longboat was simple, unassuming, and unthreatening compared to the massive iron ships anchored out in deeper waters, but the ride did nothing to still the nerves battling in Yanko’s stomach. His wrists were not bound, and nobody had taken the lodestone from him yet, but he sat on a hard bench, fenced in by towering Turgonian soldiers with polished boots and pressed, white uniforms. His eyes were even with the men’s shoulders. Arayevo and Lakeo occupied the bench behind him and were similarly hemmed in. Dak rode up front. For some reason, he warranted his own seat.

The oarsmen stole glances at Yanko between strokes as they rowed the longboat toward the closest ironclad. Perhaps because he wore the warrior mage robe, he rated more attention than the women. Or maybe it had to do with the parrot sitting on his shoulder, a parrot who kept planting images of a stack of seeds in his mind, an unsubtle reminder that Yanko had promised a treat in exchange for the legerdemain with the lodestone. He hoped he would find an opportunity to repay Kei for the favor, and he also hoped the captain of the ship didn’t try to make the parrot stay behind.

The looks from the Turgonians ranged from curious to hostile. Dak received a few covert glances, too, though nobody had spoken to him since the young officer in charge of the longboat had greeted him on the beach. None of the crew seemed to know who he was or how he had come to be on the island with a handful of Nurians, but the officer had called him, “sir.” It was one of the handful of Turgonian words Yanko knew. That didn’t tell Yanko much, since any senior officer would receive that honorific. At this point, Yanko would be shocked if Dak didn’t turn out to be a high-ranking officer.

“That thing’s bigger than the island,” Lakeo muttered as the longboat drew close to the massive iron hull. The ship towered over them, blocking out the sun and half of the sky.

The oarsmen turned the longboat sideways, then grabbed hooks that dangled down from above on chains. They inserted the hooks into reinforced eyelets at four points on their little craft, and a distant clanking sound came from above. Yanko grabbed his seat when the longboat lurched out of the water. Dak did not react.

As they were hoisted to the deck, Yanko rested his hand on the bump in his pocket, the hard outline of the lodestone. He wondered if his threat to destroy it would work on the Turgonians. It probably wouldn’t work on
Dak
. He knew too well what this mission meant to Yanko. At least the Turgonians shouldn’t have any mages on board, since their culture dismissed magic. Yanko hoped his own talents would give him an advantage, but they had never helped him get the better of Dak, and his robe would ensure these people knew exactly what he was.

A second longboat, also with a crew of soldiers, was lowered down from another part of the ship as a mechanical arm moved Yanko’s craft inward. As soon as it touched down, the oarsmen scrambled out. Dak hopped out, too, and Yanko followed, offering a hand to Arayevo and Lakeo. Neither accepted the help, climbing out on their own and looking around. Arayevo’s eyes were bright and curious—this was just one more adventure for her. Lakeo scowled at all the large, muscular men working on the deck. A few looked over at the newcomers—the captives, Yanko amended glumly—but most went about their tasks with professionalism. Yanko didn’t see any women and recalled that Turgonians did not have female soldiers.

“Lord Colonel Starcrest?” a gray-haired man in a black uniform with a lot of silver medals and badges walked up to the group.

Dak turned toward him, and the two men exchanged salutes. “Lord Fleet Admiral Ravencrest.”

That was all of the conversation that Yanko understood, for the men lowered their salutes, clasped wrists, and spoke rapidly in Turgonian, the admiral quite enthusiastic and animated and Dak his usual taciturn self. Half of his answers were grunts. Surprisingly, the admiral seemed eager to please. Yanko had the impression that Ravencrest was the lower-ranking man, though that shouldn’t be the case. The Turgonians had ground and naval troops with different ranks and hierarchies, but Yanko believed an admiral outranked a colonel, especially a fleet admiral. They both had warrior-caste names, too, though Yanko didn’t pretend to have any knowledge of whether all of those families were considered equal or if some had greater standing in Turgonian society, as was the case with Nurian honored families. He did know that—

“Starcrest?” Arayevo murmured. “Isn’t that...”

“The Turgonian president’s surname, yes.” Yanko had no idea if there were ten Starcrests in the empire or hundreds. There were White Foxes whom he had never met, so he wouldn’t assume Dak was a close relative of the president. Still, when he remembered how Dak had known the Komitopis family, he wondered.

“Does that mean he’s in charge and we’ll be treated well?” Arayevo asked.

Yanko could only shrug. Whether they were treated well or not, he doubted he would be allowed to keep the lodestone for long. He brushed its lump again and wondered what the Turgonians would do if he hurled it over the railing. That wouldn’t do anything to help Nuria, but if his people couldn’t have that continent, would it be better to keep the enemy from claiming it?

Dak looked over at him and said a few words, perhaps explaining him to the admiral. Yanko lowered his hand. The Turgonians might very well have an underwater boat or two trailing this fleet of ironclads, and they would have the ability to dive down and retrieve the lodestone. As much as he hated the idea, he would just have to wait and see what happened.

“Yanko.” Dak held out his hand, the same way Pey Lu had.

He probably wanted the same thing she had wanted. He glanced at Kei, half tempted to give it to the parrot again and order him to fly away with it.

“Seeds,” Kei announced, and Yanko had the feeling he had just been told that he wouldn’t get any more favors until he fed the bird.

Dak’s eye narrowed slightly.

Yanko clenched his jaw but tossed him the lodestone. Let them look it over. They had no magic. They’d probably think it a paperweight, and no matter where they tucked it on this ship, Yanko could find it again.

Dak caught it and promptly handed it to the admiral. The man looked skeptically at it, and Yanko could guess the words that he spoke.

“It’s a rock.”

Dak shrugged.

Another exchange occurred between the men, this time with much gesturing at Yanko. Dak’s expression grew even sourer than usual.

As he was thinking that he needed to put some effort into learning Turgonian, Arayevo snorted and muttered, “That’ll teach him.”

“Do you understand them?” Yanko whispered.

“Dak did let me practice on him while we were on the underwater boat, but I can only get some of it. Enough to know he just got stuck in a cabin with you, since he’s the only one on the ship who’s had...” She shrugged. “Some kind of training.”

Yanko could guess. Whatever the Turgonians called mage-hunter training, at least the part that involved repelling mental attacks. His bodyguard was about to become his captor. Or maybe his nanny.

“Poor Yanko,” Lakeo said, “never gets to share cabins with beautiful women. Always gets stuck with surly Turgonians instead.”

“I thought you found him appealing from the lips down,” Yanko said reflexively, though he wasn’t in the mood for trading barbs.

“That doesn’t negate his surliness.”

Yanko thought about pointing out that she was as surly as Dak, but the second longboat was being pulled up. Since the pirates had escaped before the Turgonians set anchor, he could only think of one person that the craft might have been sent to collect. Even so, he was surprised when it settled into its berth on the deck and the mage hunter stepped out, her hood down and a white bandana holding her hair back from her face. She ignored him utterly, though she snapped something at one of the soldiers who looked like he wanted to search her for weapons. She shouldn’t
have
any. Yanko was still puzzled as to when she had recovered the throwing stars.

He looked to Dak, wondering if he understood why she would have been brought aboard—and why she would have voluntarily come with the Turgonians. Even if she and Yanko were enemies, they were both Nurians, both enemies of Turgonia. She couldn’t possibly be working with someone here, could she? Didn’t Turgonians consider assassinations cowardly?

Dak did not look any more enlightened than Yanko felt. He asked the admiral a question and received a headshake and a short answer.

The hunter—Yanko
still
did not know her name—stood with her arms folded across her chest, glaring defiantly about her. He almost labeled her as surly, too, though he caught a hint of concern in her eyes. Was she a prisoner? She snapped at anyone who came close to her, and the Turgonian who had wanted to search her did not try again. Instead, he looked toward his admiral, a question in his eyes.

The admiral waved toward a hatch that had opened. A man in yellow and red silks strode out, a
familiar
man.

Yanko nearly fell over. “What is
he
doing here?”

He gaped until Sun Dragon, the man who had nearly incinerated him with a lava flow, looked over at him. Yanko snapped his mouth shut, not wanting Sun Dragon to see his shock—or how appalled he was.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad there aren’t any volcanoes around,” Lakeo said. “You might want to summon any kraken friends that are sunbathing on the waves out there.”

Sun Dragon sneered at Yanko. It was a triumphant sneer. The Turgonians regarded him dubiously as he approached—one soldier refused to get out of his way as he walked toward the longboats—but that did not seem to worry Sun Dragon. He wore the confidence of a man in control of the situation.

The admiral sighed deeply and said something to Dak.

“Did you get that?” Yanko whispered to Arayevo, wishing he had a clue as to what was going on.

“Only the part where he misses the days when they got to shoot Nurians.”

That wasn’t the clue that Yanko had hoped for.

Dak did not respond to the admiral. He did not look pleased, and he stood there in stony silence.

Sun Dragon stopped in front of the hunter and frowned down at her. “You failed,” he said in Nurian. “
Twice
.”

He was a few inches taller than she, so she had to lift her chin to stare him in the eyes, but Yanko wagered she would have lifted her chin anyway. She had a lot of pride and certainty for someone not much older than he was.

Sun Dragon flung his arm out, a finger pointing toward Yanko. “He’s a
boy
.”

Yanko found his own chin coming up. Not so much a boy that he hadn’t bested the mage—and his assassin. Yes, he’d had the help of a kraken, but surely the ability to summon help when it was needed was a legitimate battle tactic.

“I had a chance to kill Snake Heart,” the mage hunter said.

“That is
not
your mission.”

She glared at him, the defiance still hard in her eyes.

“Did you kill her?” Sun Dragon asked.

“I do not know.” The mage hunter looked at Yanko. Because he had stopped her attack? Or simply because she wondered if he knew the answer?

He kept himself from shrugging in response. Even if he had known the answer, he wouldn’t give it to her. He definitely would not give it to Sun Dragon.

Sun Dragon lowered his voice, but not so much that Yanko failed to hear his comment. “I knew you’d be too young and inexperienced.”

He spun on his heel, pointedly turning his back on the hunter, and strode toward the admiral. Dak tensed, his hand dropping to one of the two pistols jammed through his belt, weapons he had taken from the pirates.

The hunter’s chin remained up, but a hint of red flushed her cheeks. Yanko knew the feeling well, but he refused to feel any sympathy toward her. She had tried to kill him
and
his mother. Let the wolf god eat her heart and spit it out.