Jaw clenched and cheeks flaming, Tikaya turned her back to them.
“Nothing else to mount around here,” the conversation continued, “unless you want to crawl into Lieutenant Amn or Corporal Agarik’s bunks.”
“I reckon they’d be the ones wanting to do the mounting then.”
She supposed that explained why she was not Agarik’s “type.” The marines went back to analyzing her, and, when others joined in, the commentary grew cruder and more explicit. Though the captain stood within earshot, he did nothing to stop the lewd harassment. She wondered if the men would have treated a Turgonian woman this way or if her status as hated-enemy-of-the-empire made it acceptable.
Tikaya gave up the exercises in favor of walking around the training area. She eyed the officers plunking quarrels into the targets, surprised they bothered practicing archery given the power of their rifles.
“How’s the thinking going, librarian?” Bocrest asked. “You figure anything out yet?”
“I’m working on it. I doubt you have any idea as to the magnitude of the task. People spend years working to translate a newly discovered language, and that’s when they’re surrounded by libraries full of reference materials.”
“Uh huh. Take a few more laps around the ring to inspire my men’s fantasies and then go back to work.”
“Double or nothing, sir?” The lieutenant hefted his crossbow.
“It’s your rum.” The captain turned his back on her and loaded a fistful of bolts into his own crossbow.
An idea tickled her mind. “You a betting man, Captain?” she asked before she could talk herself out of it.
Since he had already dismissed Tikaya, he had to turn back to frown at her. “What?”
“Care to make a wager?”
“Like what?”
“I’ll bet you there’s a weapon here I can best you with.”
The snorts and outright laughs around her were no surprise.
“Why would I make a wager with my prisoner?” the captain asked. “What could you have to lose that I would want?”
What indeed?
“Before you offer to warm my toes tonight, know I’m a married man.”
The fact that he had a wife—and was faithful to her—left her speechless for a moment.
Bocrest tapped his foot. Tikaya considered the bruises on his face. If she was right and Five had delivered those, maybe she could use that.
“I see Prisoner Five has given you some trouble,” she said. “You must need him for something, presumably related to what you need me for. If I lose, I’ll persuade him to help you with your mission.”
Bocrest laughed. “Why would he listen to the cryptomancer?”
Because Five did not yet know she was the cryptomancer. “Because we’ve established a rapport.” If one could call a single shared conversation a rapport.
The laughter ceased, and Bocrest studied her through narrowed eyes. Perhaps that had not been a wise claim to make.
“Fine. What if I lose?” The captain’s mouth twisted, showing how unlikely he thought that. “I’m not releasing you or promising anything that would involve breaking orders.”
“I want Five to share my exercise periods, an hour each day.” The captain was shaking his head before she made it halfway through the sentence, but she pressed on. “I also want you to give him a bath, haircut, shave, and fresh clothing to wear.” Tikaya smiled. “Actually, I’ll take a bath and fresh clothing too.”
“A bath!” the lieutenant roared. “This is a steamer! Water is for pouring into the boiler.”
“Surely you could manage a damp washcloth,” she said.
“No,” the captain said. “No to it all. That’s too much extra work for my men. He’s too dangerous to have out.”
“Why can’t these men watch him?” She pointed to the onlookers. “I can’t imagine the emperor pays them to stand around and gawk at me. Besides—” the captain’s face had grown red, so she patted the air soothingly, “—you don’t honestly believe you’ll lose our wager, do you?”
He snapped his mouth shut. “No.”
The captain stuck his palm out, edge toward her, and she banged her hand against it in the Turgonian gesture for a deal sealed.
“Choose your weapon,” he said.
She went straight to the bows. They were designed for tall, burly men, so it took some experimentation to find one she could string and draw. For once her long arms were useful, and her months laboring on the plantation gave her strength she had not possessed during her academic tenure.
“Think she’ll even be able to load that?” one man asked.
“Probably shoot her toe off.”
“There’s no way she’ll hit a target.”
“Better tell the boys in the rigging to watch out.”
“Don’t know why my languages instructor bothered teaching me the Turgonian word for encouragement,” Tikaya muttered. “Not like they ever use it.”
Bow strung, she joined Bocrest.
“Challenger shoots first,” he said.
“No practice?”
“No.”
“Best of three shots?”
“One shot. Deal’s been made. Shoot.”
The lieutenant handed her a single arrow.
“I see you’re a sporting people.” She should have negotiated the rules of the game instead of trying to finagle baths.
Tikaya nocked the arrow and turned sideways, bow held loosely in her left hand as the fingertips of her right curled about the string. Just like on the plantation back home, she told herself.
Except it wasn’t. Even on the calm day, the ship rose and fell with the swells, and activity on deck offered distractions. The misty breeze licked her cheeks, and she closed her eyes for a moment, considering the affect it would have on the arrow’s flight. She locked her eyes on the red dot in the center of the target and drew the bow, anchoring her fingers in her usual spot against her cheek. The men’s ongoing comments disappeared and focus came. She breathed in the tangy air, blew it out, and waited for the quiet moment when her body and the deck were still.
She released the arrow.
It cut through the air and thudded into the red dot. The surrounding men fell silent, mouths hanging open. Tikaya resisted the urge to smile or make any triumphant gesture.
“Your turn,” was all she said to the captain.
His expression was less stunned and more dyspeptic. Too late, Tikaya wished she had found a way to make the challenge private. If he did not make as fine a shot, he might lose face in front of his men. And take it out on her.
Bocrest lowered his bow. “A shot that good is worth the prize, for what little reward having that dour bear around will be.”
The men grunted in agreement. Good. She recognized the face-saving gesture, but in this case was relieved he had found a solution. After eliciting a promise that Five would join her the next day, she walked a few more laps.
The captain caught up as her guards were about to lead her belowdecks. He clenched her elbow and put his mouth near her ear. “I trust you and Five aren’t plotting to escape. If you attempt something that foolish, you will be caught, and I’ll let Sergeant Ottotark deliver your punishment. He enjoys that sort of work immensely.”
4
Clouds blanketed the sky the next day when Tikaya came out for her exercise session, but the darker weather didn’t dampen the curiosity humming through her. Her ally—even if he did not yet know she had dubbed him ally—would join her soon. What would he look like without all that hair and dirt? Would the guards give them enough space to talk privately?
She walked around the outside edge of the exercise area, struggling for patience. The captain was out again, this time trading sword blows with his navigator. Tikaya wondered who ran the ship when these Turgonians spent so much time exercising. Some prisoners of war were probably chained down in the boiler rooms, shoveling coal into the furnaces day and night.
The clamor of crashing steel halted, and Tik
aya stopped walking to search for the reason.
If not for the guards surrounding him, she would not have recognized Five. Now clean-shaven with military-short hair, he wore the same boots and black uniform as the marines, though no rank or insignia marked the collars. Taller than the men accompanying him, he strode across the deck, hands clasped behind his back, head up, alert eyes taking in every aspect of the ship.
Tikaya’s stomach did an anxious flip. Her putative ally had turned into someone who looked every bit like one of the officers who had tried to take over her islands during the war. Even with no rank on that collar, he seemed more the captain than the sweaty bare-chested Bocrest, who was also staring. A chilling thought gripped her. What if Five had been a captain during the war? Someone who fired on her people? Took prisoners? Tortured them.
Five’s gaze stopped on the sails nearest the smokestack. A faint sooty black dulled the canvas, and he raised an eyebrow at Captain Bocrest.
For a moment, Bocrest’s cheeks flushed, and an excuse seemed on his lips, but he halted it with a scowl. He stalked across the deck, bare chest puffed out, muscles flexed. He barked at anyone foolish enough to cross his path and stopped in front of Five. Bocrest gestured sharply while spitting words out in a low voice.
Tikaya resumed walking, more briskly than earlier, so she could steer close enough to eavesdrop. Before she neared them, the captain thrust his arm out, pointing his index finger at her. She stopped, feeling self-conscious when both men, and everyone else in the area, turned to stare at her.
Only Five’s gaze was friendly. The right side of his mouth quirked up in a bemused half smile, and she felt the need to brace herself on a nearby weapons rack.
Bocrest growled, “Convince her,” just loud enough for her to hear.
Though Five did not acknowledge the order, those words drove wariness into Tikaya’s heart. Presuming Bocrest’s relationship with Five was entirely antagonistic may have been a mistake.
He left the captain’s side and strolled toward her, his smile widening as he approached. A few strands of silver threaded his black hair, laugh lines crinkled the corners of his brown eyes, and a narrow scar bisected one eyebrow, but Tikaya had no doubt women of all ages swooned at his feet. Experience made her stifle her own urge to swoon. Handsome men did not look at her and smile; they looked through her, usually not noticing when they bumped her out of the way to close in on some buxom damsel with cleavage like the Inarraska Canyon. Most likely, he had an ulterior reason for that smile.
Tikaya folded her arms across her chest and kept her face neutral as he closed the distance.
Five’s first words destroyed her attempt at equanimity. “You’re the cryptomancer?”
“What? I, uhm, no. I mean—”
Tikaya winced. Even if he had no ulterior motives, her almost-ally would surely turn against her if he knew. Like the rest of the marines, he would resent her, hate her, glare at her and...
He was staring, not glaring, at her, and not with hatred. Was that—her eyebrows arched—awe?
“It’s your people’s term,” she said, “not what the name plaque on my desk says.”
Hoping for nonchalance, Tikaya stuck out a hand to lean casually on the weapons rack, but her focus was on him, and those gold flecks in his brown eyes, and she missed the target. Her fingers clipped the corner and slid off, giving her no support. She pitched sideways with a startled, “Errkt,” and would have landed on the deck, but Five lunged and caught her.
Chortles burst from the surrounding marines, and flames torched her cheeks. Five straightened and released her with a pat on the shoulder. She groaned and avoided his eyes. If there had been awe there before, that was surely gone now. In avoiding his gaze, she had a clear view of the marines pointing at her and nudging each other. Even Bocrest’s rock-eating jaw flapped with guffaws.
“Walk?” Five suggested gently.
“Dear Akahe, yes.”
She departed the scene at a vigorous pace, and Five, with his long legs, easily matched her. His guards fell in behind. At least they proved stolid and silent save for the clatter of gear and synchronized thump of boots on the deck.
“I must thank you for this.” Five gestured at himself, encompassing the clean uniform and haircut. “I got the story from Corporal Agarik. It was kind of you to include me in the reward for your wager.”
“You’re welcome,” she muttered, knowing her thinking had not been purely altruistic. “Though I’m surprised the captain let you out, lost bet or not.”
“He made me promise not to make trouble during the exercise periods.”
“Ah.” Interesting that Five’s word was enough for the captain to trust him. She glanced at the guards. To some extent anyway.
“It was worth it.” He stretched his arms overhead, then windmilled them, something the confines of his cell would make impossible. “I almost feel like a human being again.”
It had certainly improved his mood. She thought of the silent, brooding man she had spoken to the first day and could not help but feel pleased her request had lightened his spirit. She gave him a smile and missed a step when he smiled back. Oh, that was nice.
Stop it, Tikaya, she chastised herself. Prisoner or not, he was one of them. That uniform fit him like he had been born into it. Best get some answers from him while he was in an affable mood.
“Given the reception I’ve gotten here, I’m surprised you aren’t...” She watched him sidelong. “Does my wartime hobby not bother you?”
“Actually...” He met her sideways gaze. “It impresses me. A lot.”
“Oh,” she breathed, then looked away, not sure she wanted him to see her reaction. She had wanted an ally; she had not expected an admirer. She was not sure how to deal with that. Parkonis, though he had loved her personally, had been a little jealous of her professionally. They had worked in the same field, with her discoveries often eclipsing his, and his praise had always sounded grudging.
They passed under men in the rigging, adjusting sails to take advantage of the wind. Only a faint smudge of black wafted from the smokestack today.
“As far as we’ve heard,” Five said, “cryptography isn’t taught on Kyatt, so I just assumed what we called the cryptomancer was a team of mathematicians learning as they went. But your specialty is linguistics, right?”
The question sounded casual, but a trickle of wariness returned to her thoughts. Just because he pretended to be an admirer did not make him one. Maybe the Turgonians had simply decided to substitute honey for vinegar, and had talked him into delivering it.
“Yes,” she said. “Philology, really. I work with the anthropology and archaeology departments in the Polytechnic.”
“Interesting. How many languages do you know?”
“Sixteen modern, and I can read a few dozen dead languages.”
“Few dozen?” Five halted and gaped at her. “You must be a genius.”
The proclamation startled her, and she lurched to a stop beside him, conscious of the guards’ gazes on her back. “No, no, trust me I’m not. It’s just something I’ve a knack for.”
He lifted a single skeptical eyebrow.
Tikaya shook her head. “A world-exploring uncle gave me a copy of the Tekdar Tablet when I was a child, and I fell in love with solving language puzzles. My parents encouraged it, so I had a head start when I started formally studying in school. That’s all.”
Five was still standing, gazing at her, and when she met his eyes, she found that admiration there again. It was disarming. Maybe he meant it to be. What had the captain told Five to convince her of?
“Hm.” He resumed walking. “My family gave me swords and toy soldiers when I was a boy.” Bemusement laced his tone.
“You would have preferred something else?”
“Oh, yes. I kept asking for drawing pads and building materials. I wanted to design a treehouse with a drawbridge to my room and a steam-powered potato launcher for defense.”
“Sounds like every boy??
?s dream.” Despite her determination to remain chary with him, the change of topic set her at ease. She could not reveal something she shouldn’t if he was talking about himself.
“Alas, this was not a paternally approved childhood activity, so I had to find my own building materials.” Five scratched his jaw. “I took it upon myself to chop down some of the apple trees in my family’s orchard, trees that my great grandfather had grafted from cuttings painstakingly acquired when he was a marine sailing around the world. I, being about eight at the time, was unaware of this bit of history.”
“Oh, dear,” she murmured.
“Yes. There was a lot of yelling that summer.”
She chuckled.
“What is engraved on your name plaque?” Five asked as they started on their second lap of the deck.
For a moment, the context of the question eluded her, until she remembered her earlier comment. “You don’t know my name?”
He spread his arms apologetically. “Nobody’s told me much.”
The salty breeze gusted, and water sprayed the deck ahead of them. A lieutenant bellowed at the men aloft.
“Your name for mine,” Tikaya offered with a smile. “I can’t keep calling you Five forever.”
He glanced at the guards trailing them. Maybe, as part of his punishment, he was forbidden from using his old name.
He lowered his voice. “My friends and family, back when I had them...” He grimaced. “They called me Rias.”
“Rias?”
Tikaya had a feeling that was a nickname or a truncation. Regardless, it gave her no hints as to his identity. Since she had decrypted all the communications her people had intercepted, she knew most, if not all, of the Turgonian officers with enough rank to command a vessel, and she could not think of any name with those syllables.
“My name is Tikaya,” she said. “And, now that we’re on a first-name basis, maybe you can tell me what you’re supposed to convince me of, Rias.”
Their route had taken them to the archery lane. Rias paused by the rack of staves, and the guards tensed, their fingers finding the triggers of their pistols.