Tides of Maritinia Page 11
I jumped down to the dock and held up a hand to help Sali, my uniform scratching my scraped skin. She waved my hand away, making it plenty clear to all who watched that she didn’t need any help.
Next came the Falali Mother, who did accept my assistance. The shells in her headdress rattled as she made the short jump down.
Together, the three of us walked along the quay toward the Ministry’s ringed island. Dugu backpedaled before us, his camera transmitting a live feed to the skyscreens. The Ministry domes stood ahead and to the left, silver tiles afire with the glow of the setting sun.
We stopped halfway up the quay, where a small welcoming committee waited. Admiral Mnai stood at the center. His wife—Sali’s stepmother—on his left elbow, the beak-faced Captain Mmirehl in right-hand-man position. Standing off to the side were the two lieutenants I’d met in the conference room, and behind them a large man in an oversized business suit.
The weapons dealer. Still had no idea what his name was.
We touched our fingers to our hearts, our greeters returning the gesture. The admiral said some words into the camera. How honored he was to receive the Falali Mother. How proud he was to call Colonel Drake Kell, the Hero of Maritinia, a friend. He thanked us both for our dedication to the peoples of Maritinia and wrapped it up with promises of productive discussions.
Dugu lowered the camera to fiddle with its control screen. “It’s off,” he called.
The whole group relaxed. Except for Sali, her smile fragile as a quilt of rose petals. He hadn’t even mentioned her.
“Come,” said the admiral to the Falali Mother. “You must be weary after such a long journey. We must get you to your room. We can talk after you’ve had a chance to clean up.”
They headed for the Ministry domes. Not even a hello for his daughter.
I searched for something to say to her, something that would make it okay. I opened my mouth but never got the chance to speak.
“Welcome back, Colonel,” said Captain Mmirehl. “Can I borrow you for a bit?”
Biting off whatever I was about to say, I looked at the captain, a thin-lipped smile bridging the hollows in his cheeks.
“Certainly,” I said.
“Walk with us.”
By us, he meant him and the weapons dealer. I fell in step between the two men, the lean-faced, rail-thin Mmirehl on my left, the broad-cheeked, ample-bodied weapons dealer on my right. Cuda and blowfish.
I stole a look over my shoulder. The entire group had dispersed. Except for Sali. She stood in the same spot. All by herself.
A string tugged on my heart, but only for a second before Captain Mmirehl snipped it with his sharp tongue. “I quite enjoyed your little show last night. Am I right, Mathus?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said the arms dealer with a tentative tone. Probably trying to figure out if Mmirehl was trying to insult me.
The captain eliminated any doubt. “I love a good piece of theater, Colonel. Thank you for that.”
My voice was cold. “That’s not makeup on my cheek, Captain.”
Mathus kept me from saying any more. “Mind if I take a look at that wound?”
I stopped so he could lean close, his nose speckled with dewy sweat.
“That’s quite a bite, Colonel. But I suppose a decorated soldier like you has had worse. Like that hunk of shrapnel you took in the Secession Skirmishes. A bomb, right?”
“Land mine.” So said the battle reports.
“Nasty little things, those land mines. I’d be happy to sell you some, but”—he swept his hands before the vast swaths of ocean—“I don’t think you’ll find a use for them here.”
We started moving again. Silently.
Reaching the end of the quay, my eyes went to the lagoon. The quiet water flowered with abundant bouquets of coral. We turned right, moving away from the domes, but I kept gazing at the water. Sea snakes propelled themselves with a whiplike swim stroke. Cloud-shaped shoals of sparkly fish moved to and fro like shimmering mosaics constructed of living tiles.
“Speaking of explosives,” said the weapons dealer.
I peeled my eyes off the lagoon to follow the direction of his pointing finger. A short tower stood on the far side of the atoll. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed it already. Bamboo beams and struts supported a small platform with the beginnings of a spiral staircase attached to one side. A dozen or more Jebyl workmen hustled about. Not much time before they’d have to quit, along with the sun.
“That will be your launch tower,” said the arms dealer. “Fifteen feet tall. When it’s done, we’ll mount the missile launcher on top. I’ll have you operational by the end of day tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it.
We reached a narrow bridge that crossed a gap of collapsed stone. I went over the bridge first, bamboo slats with rope railings. Below, shallow water channeled into the lagoon across jagged slabs of barnacled rock. Mmirehl came over second, the bridge bouncing with each long, lanky stride. Finally, the arms dealer started across. He went slow, worried hands on the ropes. The creaky bridge bowed and strained against his bulk but held.
When he stepped down to solid stone, he smiled broadly, his gold tooth glinting in the late-day sunlight. Reunited, we passed a group of well-armed guards and walked toward the tower, a barge moored next to it. One of the Jebyl workmen noticed our approach and gave his coworker an elbow. Another stopped sweeping. Yet another came out from behind the tower to watch our approach. Soon, the whole group had stopped their cleanup, every eye on us. On me.
I followed Captain Mmirehl onto the gangplank leading to the barge but stopped halfway across and turned to face the workers. “Please,” I said. “Don’t stop working on account of me.”
They stared, tools of stone and bone in their hands, skin slick with sweat. The closest man dropped his tools and put one hand then the other over his heart, the skin on his weather-beaten face wrinkling and bunching around a bright smile. The others followed suit, hearts hidden under hands over hands.
Unsure what I was supposed to do, I touched my fingers to my heart and offered a smile that hurt my cheek. They seemed satisfied, so I left them to join Mmirehl on the barge.
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 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.
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.
“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.”
–JAKOB BRYCE
The 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 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 w
ho 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.
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.