Tides of Maritinia (11 page)

The arms dealer appeared at my side. “You sure made an impression on them last night.”

Mmirehl rolled his eyes. “Savages are easily impressed.”

The dealer put his hand on Mmirehl's shoulder. “Savages? A word like that tells me you must not trust the Jebyl to behave themselves. You know, I have hundreds of firerods for sale. Grenades, too. Nothing will tamp a little unrest like a show of strength.”

“We can't afford it,” said Mmirehl.

The dealer raised his thick brows, and I couldn't escape the feeling that I'd just watched a pair of prey-­seeking hawks lift into the vast sky of his forehead. “You haven't heard my prices,” he said.

“The answer is no, Mathus. You've already taken us for everything we had.”

The hawks landed with empty talons. “You and I both know that's not true, but do as you wish.” To me he said, “Come, I'd like to show you your new missile system.”

I followed the big man to a group of crates. Popping the lid of the closest, he waved me forward for a look inside. A control board. I leaned down for a close look. I asked.

I pulled my head out of the box. “And the missiles?”

“Yes, yes. We have a full complement.” He opened another crate. “Sixteen as agreed. Plus I threw in a spare.”

I leaned over the box, the tangy smell of propellant filling my nostrils. Two missiles. Each tube roughly six feet of shiny steel.

said the voice in my head.

I didn't want to think about it. So I didn't. I stood up straight, gave the big man a slap on the back. “You've outdone yourself.”

A grin spread, slow as a burning fuse. “I knew you'd be pleased.” He lifted the lid off the next crate, and I looked inside to find more missiles and what appeared to be part of the launcher.

Not totally, I thought. I'd listened to enough family conversations to know the Empire wasn't as efficient as it used to be. The fact that this world had won independence, no matter how temporary, was proof.

said Pol.

3
can follow up later.> After viewing the next crate of missiles, I turned to Mmirehl. “Has the admiral seen these?”

“He has.”

“And?” I wanted to hear him say I was right to buy the system. It didn't matter if I'd had no clue what I was doing. I just wanted to watch the smug bastard eat his words.

He blinked his eyes. Twice. “The admiral was most impress-­ed.”

I smiled. And this time I felt no pain in my cheek. “Shall we?” With a quick about-­face, I strode back to the gangplank, an extra bounce in my step. I stopped. The Jebyl. They were waiting for me. All of them down on one knee.

I knew I hadn't done anything to deserve such reverence, but I still felt a surge of pride filling my chest. A man could get used to this. I walked down the gangplank and stood before them.

One man rose and carried a small box to me. With a bow of his head, he undid the catch and lifted the lid for me to see inside. Five tools made of mammoth bone lined up in a row and fastened in place with worn silk ties. One tool had a V-­shaped tip. The next a U. The third's tip was broad and flat. The fourth's was shaped like a scalpel. The fifth's like a fishtail. I knew what they were. Tools for wood carving.

“A gift,” said the workman.

“You mustn't,” I said. “You'll need these.”

“We can find new tools. We only regret we didn't have anything else to offer.”

I held a hand over my heart. Put a second hand over the first. “You are all most kind. I will treasure them.”

Grins all around.

I took the box with a slight nod and turned around to find Mmirehl standing behind me. “Can we go now, Colonel?”

Mathus stood fast on the barge. “I'm staying to supervise the construction cleanup, gentlemen. I'll see you tomorrow.”

After a final wave of thanks for the gift, I caught up to Mmirehl, who had already started toward the domes. A few steps out, the captain spoke up. “I'd like to show you something else. Something you'll find very interesting.”

I didn't like his deadpan tone. I could feel the needle hovering over my good mood. “What would that be?”

“A dead body.”

Pop it went.

 

CHAPTER 14

“Abbove water, the Minstry is a jewel. Beleow is a dungeon.”

–
J
AKOB
B
RYCE

T
he cabin was cold, the chill of deep ocean pressing in on the steel walls. Mmirehl was watching me, his mouth and nose buried in the crook of his elbow. The stench was powerful. Mold, mildew, and meat.

Spoiled. Rotten. Meat.

Before me was a table, my handiwork on display.

I stared at the cleaved jawbone, remembering the first blow when I missed his throat and embedded my machete in his jaw.

It was him. Kell had come back to haunt me.

What was left of him.

I squeezed the carving tools I'd been given in my hand and tried a deep, calming breath. I inhaled of his deathly odor, my nostrils filling with the stink of payback.

“Who is he?” asked Mmirehl from the opposite side of the table, his voice muffled by his sleeve.

I cleared my throat. “I was about to ask the same thing.”

The dead colonel's face was unrecognizable. Eyeless and cheekless. His nose a craggy nub of exposed cartilage. He'd been gutted by ocean scavengers, his chest cavity an empty cage of bones. Patches of blistered and split skin still remained in a few places. Forehead. Elbows. Ankles.

And shoulders.

I could see Kell's scar. Starting at the collarbone, it ran for an inch before disappearing into a flayed strip of chewed muscle. It was only an inch, but it was a perfect match for the scar on my shoulder. The scar I'd shown to every person on this world last night.

Kell's revenge was upon me. I could practically feel his bony fingers wrapping my windpipe. Could see him grinning with his split jaw.

Mmirehl lowered his elbow to speak. “He's not from Maritinia.”

I was slow to process the words. Slow to recognize the matter-­of-­fact tone. The bland lack of accusation.

I said to Pol.

3
?>

I forced my mouth to speak. “How do you know he's foreign?”

He pointed to the tattered piece of underwear on his waist. Elastic.

I put my hand on my chin and creased my brows in an attempt to feign curiosity. “Where was he found?”

“A pair of fishermen spott-­ed him floating near Maringua around noon, and they tow-­ed him here. I think he was a spy.”

My gut twisted. “Why?”

“Who else could he be? We've had no reports of a missing foreigner.”

The hatch opened, and Admiral Mnai ducked his head inside. Punched by the smell, the bridge of his nose wrinkled up, and his eyes rolled in their sockets. He shook his head and waved his big mitt of a hand in front of his face in a feeble attempt to wipe the stench away.

“You should've warn-­ed me,” he said to Mmirehl.

“Apologies, Admiral. The body is most ripe.”

The admiral pinched his nose shut. “He was found near Maringua?”

“Yes. We believe he was the Empire's spy.”

The admiral's eyes narrowed. “You agree with this assessment, Colonel?”

“I agree.” My mind clicked into action. “The Empire has begun its infiltration.”

The admiral lowered his hands and took a position next to Mmirehl. “How did he die?”

“Look at the jaw,” said Mmirehl. “He died violently.”

“Who would've murder-­ed him? And why?”

“I do not know. It is most troubling.”

The admiral looked down at the corpse, his mouth contorting with anger, a twitch flickering his right eye. “A spy,” he muttered, barely audible. Lifting his thick arms, he brought both fists down to pound the table with a loud slam.

Mmirehl and I both moved back a step as if the extra distance would protect us from the admiral's sudden outrage. Mnai turned and snatched hold of Mmirehl's shoulder, pulled him close and put a finger in his face. “I want an investigation, you hear me? Find out who this man was. Find out who kill-­ed him. I demand answers!”

“An investigation. An excellent idea.”

“That's not all, Captain. I want foreigners rounded up. Anybody who sympathizes with the Empire, get them off my planet!” The admiral released him with a little shove. “Get to it.”

“Right away, sir.” Mmirehl spun on his heels and made his escape out the hatchway.

The admiral watched him go, mouth hanging open like he had more orders to shout, but then his jaw slammed closed like a prison door, and he turned that massive head on me. His brows were as twisted as barbed wire. Eyes like white-­hot irons.

I battled the urge to bow my head and run. Instead, I met his gaze, standing tall against whatever bluster was about to blow my way.

said Pol.

Mnai sniffed air in and out his nose, the edges of his nostrils flaring with the force. His eyes moved, just enough to tell me he was studying my wounded cheek.

“It will heal,” I said in an attempt to change the subject.

Ignoring the comment, he looked down at the body and rested his hands on the table's edge. “The Empire's spies are working with the Jebyl, aren't they?”

I had no idea why he wanted to take that particular wrong turn, but I wasn't going steer him back. “Spies will use anybody they can.”

“The resistance must be crush-­ed.” His voice was deep and bleak as the ocean bottom. “The Jebyl are a menace. You see what they're doing, don't you? They'll lend their assistance to the Empire, and when the Empire takes back this world, the Jebyl traitors will take their place as the new ruling class.”

I nodded as my mind incorporated the new fact: He fears the Jebyl as much as he does the Empire.

Mnai leaned forward. “I don't understand this soft spot you have for the Jebyl. It's like a blight on a piece of fruit. A stinking, rotten blight that has to be cut out before it spreads.”

“If that's how you feel, then why did you send me to participate in the ceremony? I thought we were trying to bridge the gap between us and them. Isn't that why we're going to meet with the Falali Mother?”

With a toss of his massive arms, he flipped over the table. I jumped back and bit the inside of my swollen cheek, which shouted in pain as the table hit the floor with an earsplitting crash. Kell's body struck the floor with a wet thud.

I stared at the admiral, my heart pumping with abandon as I tried to keep my eyes from going wide with shock.

He returned the stare with a slight, self-­satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I didn't ask for your opinion.”

I rested my hand over my smarting cheek while blood spilled across my tongue.

Without another word, he turned around and walked out. I watched the empty hatchway for a long time.

I nodded before looking down to the floor.

Once again, Kell lay at my feet.

Dead.

S
itting side by side, Sali and I watched Admiral Mnai enter the conference room. After a brief nod at the Falali Mother, he walked behind a seated Captain Mmirehl to the table's head. Dropping his bulk into a chair, he put his hands together on the table's well-­polished surface, his knitted fingers stacked like firewood. “Tell us what you know of the resistance.”

The Falali Mother sat at the opposite end of the table. Same place I'd sat the first time I was in this conference room. “There is no resistance,” she said.

“Then who was that agitator harassing my soldiers yesterday?”

“What agitator?”

“You know very well my soldiers were force-­ed to tame an agitator at the parade.”

The Falali Mother dropped her jaw and widened her eyes in dumbfounded disbelief. “That was no agitator. That was an old man with a flag.” She looked to Sali and me. “Tell them.”

“She's right,” I said at the risk of angering the admiral. “He didn't pose a threat.”

The admiral gave me an icy stare. “He was waving the flag of the resistance.”

“The flag of the Jebyl,” corrected the Falali Mother. “You once wave-­ed that same flag when you sought Jebyl support after your coup.”

Captain Mmirehl poked his beak into the conversation. “I debrief-­ed my soldiers while you were all having dinner. The old man was a subversive with ties to the Empire.”

“Ties? What ties?”

“He was identify-­ed as an ex-­dockhand at Selaita's landing platform. According to his former coworkers, he was very chummy with the foreign pilots. Clearly, he was an Empire sympathizer.”

Admiral Mnai leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his rounded stomach. “How do you respond to that, Dearest Mother?”

“This just happen-­ed yesterday, and you already interview-­ed his former coworkers?”

“I did,” said Mmirehl. “One of our soldiers work-­ed with him before enlisting in our navy.”

“One? You said coworkers.” She emphasized the plural with a drawn-­out Z.

Mmirehl shrugged his shoulders. “One is enough.”

The Falali Mother shook her head, the shells of her headdress rattling against each other. “This is an injustice. The man is dead. Kill-­ed for nothing more than expressing pride in his ­people, and the best you can do is sully his character with ridiculous accusations?”

The admiral's voice was straight as a knife blade. “He was an enemy of Free Maritinia, and enemies will be dealt with harshly.”

The Falali Mother threw up her hands. “This is pointless.” Looking at me, she said, “Can you please talk some sense into this man?”

I reluctantly opened my mouth to talk, but closed it when I saw Sali inch up in her chair. Her head was bowed, brows shading her eyes. “Father?”

“Yes, child.”

She lifted her gaze and met her father's eyes. “We promise-­ed her you would listen.”

“I have listen-­ed,” he said dismissively.

“You haven't listen-­ed at all.”

He leaned forward and grasped the armrests with his meaty hands. “What did you say to me?”

She put some granite in her voice. “I said you haven't been listening.”

His lips slowly curved into a joyless smile. “Why must you defy me at every turn? You truly are your mother's daughter.”

“The Jebyl are dissatisfy-­ed,” she said. “You need to listen to her.”

The soulless grin stayed frozen on his face, his thoughts unreadable. Sali did her best to mirror his gaze, but her mirror had cracks forming in the corners of her mouth and eyes. I reached for her hand under the table, felt it quiver as I grasped hold to give it a squeeze.

“Fine,” he with a wave of his hand. “I keep my promises. Speak your mind, Dearest Mother.”

The Falali Mother cleared her throat. “The Jebyl support-­ed you because you promise-­ed them change. Schools and medicines. Freedom and liberty. But they've seen none of these changes.”

“They need to be patient.”

“Patience comes in limited supply, Admiral. They celebrate-­ed when they broke free of the Empire's fist, but now they feel like fools. They see the truth that they've simply exchange-­ed one set of chains for another.”

“I must stop you there, Dearest Mother. They didn't cast off the chains of the Empire. They didn't do a damn thing. I was the one who cut them loose.” He pointed a finger at his chest. “
Me.
I risk-­ed my life. My family. You'd think they'd show some appreciation for my sacrifices.”

She gave a slight bow of her head to acknowledge the point. “Yet the problem remains. The Jebyl demand representation in your government. They need advocates who will make sure these travesties of justice don't continue.”

“You want me to let them into my government?”

“Yes—­into the government of a free Maritinia. They need a say in our future. They need a voice. That's what this unrest is about.”

“The unrest must stop.”

“Exactly. When they gain inclusion in this government, the unrest will cease.”

“No. It will stop when you calm them with your words. Tell them their concerns have been heard. Tell them to be patient.”

“I won't say anything of the sort until I see you're willing to make some concessions.”

“By inviting Jebyl spies into the Ministry? I don't think so.”

“Spies? Are you mad?”

“You think I can't see what you Jebyl are up to? I know the resistance is conspiring with the Empire to topple me.”

Her forehead creased in bewilderment. “What, pray tell, are you talking about?”

“Don't deny it. Who do you hate more than the Empire? Us. The Kwuba. You'll welcome back the Empire with open arms if it means you can take our place as the ruling class.”

“You can't be serious.”

“Admit it,” he said with flames dancing inside his eyes. “You Jebyl won't rest until we become your slaves.” The accusation hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine. He slapped the table with an open palm, his voice booming from deep inside his gut. “I won't allow it.”

The room fell into stunned silence. I pulled my eyes off the admiral and moved them from person to person around the table. Mmirehl's head was cocked to one side, gears cranking behind his eyes. The Falali Mother's face was a mixture of puzzlement and disgust. Sali bit her bottom lip and slowly shook her head side to side like a person who couldn't believe what she had heard but knew the futility of arguing.