Only then does their captain come, the gold epaulettes adorning his shoulders sparkling like miniature suns. My heart sinks.
Of a height with me and fifteen years my senior, the Diante officer’s familiar face is just as cold as it was the first time we met. Even the crow’s feet imprinted at the corners of his eyes are harsh as frost. His Greatness Captain Bassic, the captain of Admiral Addus’s flagship and a strong critic of female officers in general and me in particular.
I step forward, and the men snap to attention with a resounding clap of palms against thighs. No signals. No words. Just a single smooth movement of a dozen bodies.
“Captain Bassic.” I bow. My Diante is stronger than when we’d met last, and I am grateful for the last half year of language training. “It is an honor to see you again, sir.”
“And you, Your Highness,” Bassic answers in Lyron, slyly ignoring both my position and improved language skills while still blanketing the meeting with courtesy. “I trust your journey here was uneventful.”
“I wish I could say it was.” I obligingly switch back to Lyron and bow again. The Diante like bows. “But I fear the Ardent Ocean is not without its battles. It would please me to share anything you might find to be of use to your own ship.”
Captain Bassic’s answering smile is ice cold. I care nothing for your war, his eyes say without apology. Do not try to sway me with tales of hardship. “It will be my pleasure to listen to any tales you deem my ears worthy of,” Bassic says aloud. “Admiral Addus is awaiting us on the Stardust, where a small reception has been prepared. It would be my honor to escort you.”
“The Stardust?” I clarify, following Bassic’s gaze to the four-masted barque. “Not the Wave?”
“The pleasure barque is the most luxurious vessel in the empire and was chartered specifically to welcome you to the Empire, Your Highness.” Bassic’s hard tone leaves little doubt of his opinion of both the extravagance and its waste on me. “Is that of concern?"
“Not at all,” I say with another polite bow despite my clenching chest. There is nothing wrong with the captain’s invitation. Nothing at all except that it puts an armed Diante ship of the line right between me and the Helix.
Chapter 27
Nile
The Diante cutter rocks its displeasure at the sudden intrusion of passengers as Domenic, Catsper, Quinn, Kyra and Vikon and I join Captain Bassic’s crew. The fresh wind ruffles my hair and tempts my magic. My heart gives a nervous thump in reply. I would little like to fall to convulsions in the middle of the deck, and without Bear, I’ll have little forewarning of an oncoming episode.
Gods touched, that’s what Diante call the Gifted. Vessels chosen by higher powers to carry magic. It is a more dignified image than the cripples the Lyron kingdoms name us, but the end result is the same despite different dress: a general belief that Gods touched should keep to themselves, focus on little beyond their magic, and endure the costs without complaint.
Passing the invisible demarcation line into Diante waters, marked by a shift in the sea current, sends a shiver through me. The cutter settles on the calmer sea, swinging around the majestic Wave—where hundreds of seamen stand in perfect rows to salute our passage—and turning toward the floating welcome reception. The Stardust’s ladder is larger and easier to climb than a fighting frigate’s hull, with extra safety ropes lowered to assist landsmen. I motion for Kyra to make use of those while I hop nimbly onto the swaying footholds and, to Captain Bassic’s clear disappointment, mount the deck without mishap.
In place of hundreds of seamen, Stardust’s greeting starts with…children. Two lanes of boys twirling ribbons of every shade of blue and green while a quartet of violins breathes life into the silken ocean. The music and children build to a storm, the sea parting to acrobatic dancers twining themselves into impossible shapes.
“Stars.” Kyra clutches my arm as the dancers braid themselves together to make a single great beast. Wonder fills her voice, sweet and ripe. “Have you seen anything so beautiful before?”
“No.” Not with a dozen years of war weighing on Lyron kingdoms. Even Felielle, landlocked and fat and central to arts and learning, has no funds to waste on training performers of the caliber the Diante Empire sent out to amuse us at sea.
The dancers finish, and I am about to offer prescribed applause when the quieting music whispers back to life and a rich bom bom bum of a gong sends all the performers kneeling on one knee. The hatch to the companionway opens to herald a troupe of two dozen young people—male and female both—ranging from ten to twenty years in age. The newcomers are clad in the bright colors of the rainbow, the girls’ faces painted like butterfly wings. The four youngest of them sit on pillowed litters, silver bells adorning their ankles and wrists. The group comes toward me and bows, sending my magic into a sudden tornado of desire.
Gifted. Gods touched. Storms.
Bom bum bum, the gong calls again. Louder. Stronger. Stronger than it should be. Louder than is natural. Bom bom bum.
The sound grows with each strike, amplifying more and more until the vibration of the one single instrument fills all the air around as. As the music reaches its peak, two of the Gifted step forward and bow their heads to a shower of applause. I bring my hands together with the others, even as my gaze surveys the waiting performers.
There are twelve of them in total, six male, six female. Four standing apart from the others, as if afraid of being accidently struck. Water callers for whom a bruise can mean death. Looking closer at the litters at the wings of the semicircle, I realize that the performers sitting atop the pillows aren’t children but adolescents with the tiny bodies and weak muscles of stone callers.
Magic is never free, whether we are called cripples or Gods touched.
“Look!” Kyra’s gasp calls my attention back to the show, where fountains of water are arching gracefully through the air. One. Two. Three. A whole corridor soon rises above the deck, pearly beads of ocean sliding along invisible rails from port to starboard.
The gong calls again, and instead of smoothly riding through the arches, the streams of water crash into each other, erupting into a fine mist that rains down on us. A volcano of beauty and power.
A thunder of applause rolls over the deck, a background fiddle and several more instruments adding their voices to the celebration. All the performers return to the stage for bows and cheers before dispersing into informal dancing spurred along by the music’s call. On cue, stewards appear bearing flat trays with bits of fruit, sticky pasties filled with a sweet reddish-brown paste, and small tumblers of a clear alcoholic drink, served warm, with vapors strong enough to make my head spin. With the exception of the few women and girls among the Gifted performers, the rest of the Stardust’s complement is made up of men. Men who make the Stardust sail, men from the naval ships, men dressed in colorful, high-collared shirts who are plainly here to enjoy the ship’s hospitality rather than to make my acquaintance.
I stay where I am. Beautiful as the performance was, it is not the reason I’m here. Sure enough, five minutes later, a limping man in his fifties strides toward me. His hair, braided and tied into a bun, is lined with silver, and his intelligent eyes study me with kindness while all the other Diante part to let him through. Even Captain Bassic retreats from the man’s way.
Warm recognition spiders through my chest. “Admiral Addus.” I too bow low, and mean it. “It is an honor to see you again, sir. On behalf of all the kingdoms of the Lyron League, I thank you for the kind invitation.”
“The honor is all ours, Captain Greysik.” Admiral Addus switches from Diante to Lyron, likely in deference to my approaching companions, and inclines his head toward Quinn. “Your friend looked rather different the last time I had the pleasure of seeing him.” The admiral’s voice, though still warm, is tinged with question. The last time Addus saw Quinn, the latter was bound and kneeling, having recently been discovered with a hold full of Diante Gifted.
“Mr. Quinn has resig
ned his Tirik commission and kindly agreed to enter my honor guard,” I say with practiced ease. I sweep my hand toward Catsper, Domenic, Kyra, and Vikon, introducing them each in turn.
“The performers were divine, sir,” Kyra says with unbridled awe as her name sounds. “I cannot thank you enough for the opportunity to see their skill. An experience of a lifetime.”
“The Stardust is a ship of balance and art,” Addus tells Kyra, though I know the words are meant for us all. “It is the first of many of the cultural treasures of the Diante people I hope to share with Captain Greysik.”
Cultural treasures. Not ships and guns. Nothing about the Diante welcome is accidental, and my own response must be as nuanced as theirs. Admiral Addus knows what I need. And he’s telling me not to ask for it.
Stewards with food and refreshment encircle us, and my conversation with the admiral falls to the usual course of seamen’s talk. The weather. The winds. The change of currents brought about by the great quake from around ten months past. We are just circling back to the earlier performance when Vikon rolls his eyes.
“Enough of women’s talk.” Vikon drains his wineglass and looks between me and Addus. “Is no one going to tell the admiral about the Bevnian attack? I thought we were here to negotiate an alliance, not chat about winds and fashions.”
Admiral Addus busies himself with his drink while heat slowly rises to my face. Silent, deafening thunder rolls across us, so forceful that even Vikon seems to realize he’s stepped too far off course. Instead of backing sail, however, the middie doubles down. “Ignore me all you wish,” he says, slamming his empty wineglass onto a passing steward’s tray, “but I’m the only one around here who isn’t playing games.”
Catsper moves before I can find my breath. One moment, Vikon is standing straight in his tailored uniform, and the next he is kneeling on the deck and moaning as the marine bends the boy’s wrist onto itself.
“Let us tour the ship, Lord Vikon,” Catsper says nonchalantly, as if he isn’t threatening to collapse the boy’s joint. “I would welcome your professional expertise on matters of…the deck planks.”
I wait until the two move away, but can still think of nothing more diplomatic than straightforward apology. I offer it with a deep bow that makes my sore muscles protest.
“You likely overestimate my control of the Lyron tongue,” Addus says with unwavering politeness. “I fear I’ve no notion of what the young man said.”
I start to bow my gratitude, but Addus isn’t done speaking.
“I must beg your indulgence to attend a few personal matters,” he says, returning his drinking glass to a passing steward. “Please enjoy the Stardust’s hospitality before we leave here tomorrow to continue to the capital. I had the pleasure of visiting Ashing some years back, and it is an honor to extend a similar experience to my host’s daughter.”
I watch the admiral stride away and can’t help feeling that I’ve already failed. Though what I could say to entice my hosts into abandoning their life of abundance to join my war still utterly eludes me.
“You should congratulate the performers,” Kyra murmurs. “I think they worry they failed to please you.”
Right. Kyra should be the diplomat, not me. I don’t even want to congratulate the Gifted on their performance, not when coming close to them makes the magic in my blood buzz.
“Nile.” Kyra’s voice is stern now.
Obediently, I force a smile to my face. Feigning happiness is perhaps not so different from feigning fearlessness, and I’ve certainly done my share of the latter. With Kyra in tow, I make my way to the closest group of performers, who all stop talking and bow in perfect harmonious unison at my approach.
“It was a wonderful display,” I say, choosing a wind-caller girl close to my age to address. Like the others, she wears loose silk trousers, tapered at the ankles, and a top that—while rising modestly to her neck—is tight enough to draw ongoing attention.
The girl blushes and looks to her male companion to answer.
“We are pleased for the chance to share the show with you, Your Highness.” The boy’s eyes are clear and guileless, and much younger than his age mates in any Lyron kingdom.
Kyra nudges me with her elbow. Apparently I’m not done with this conversation yet.
I clear my throat. “Might I ask how often you practice?”
“Every day,” the boy says, the others nodding in support—though the girl waits to take her cue from the boys. “Two hours in the morning, four in the afternoon, and some after dinner.”
His whole day. His whole life, really. “Have you…have you ever wished to do something else? Something that little touches your Gift?”
The boy looks confused, and I’m starting to think my Diante is poorer than I thought when he echoes the question. “Something else? I’m terribly sorry for not understanding. The gods have chosen this path for me. How could I do something else?”
“Very good point, sir. Of course.” I nod and move on, the boy’s voice still sounding in my head. He was born to a path and expects nothing different. Starting a conversation with another Gifted, I watch it follow a similar pattern. Yes, they love what they do. Yes, they work hard. No, they’ve never considered deviating from the gods’ calling. As for the convulsions and muscle loss and unmanageable bleeds, those are all shrugged away as tributes. To be endured gracefully. Just as a Diante medicine woman once told me I must.
When a touch of orange brushes the horizon, I am surprised to find Admiral Addus standing at the rail beside me. We are quiet, the sounds of the revelry behind our backs at odds with the lap of waves before us. The sun is starting its journey to bed, the backlit clouds singing a lullaby to the journey. To the southeast lies the Diante heartland, where no Lyron subject has stepped foot in over a decade, the closest any of them having come being the coastal post at the Siaman, where I’d seen the Diante healer woman. Where the Aurora was not allowed to take on water.
“It is a pleasure to see such happy people,” I say, my eyes on the horizon. “Happy and comfortable with themselves.” The last time the admiral and I met, I’d presented him with dozens of Diante Gifted freshly rescued from a Tirik snare. Men, women, and children who’d surrendered their livelihoods for an ill-fated promise of a cure for the Gods’ touch they bore.
A hint of a smile touches the corners of Addus’s mouth. “These youth are from prominent families.” Now that we are alone, his tone is soft and his words direct. “It would be foolish to deny that privilege of birth ripples through all people—artists, soldiers, Gods touched. We all want a better life for our children.”
“Is that why you arranged for the Stardust to meet me, sir?” I ask quietly. “To show that my experience with your Gods touched we found heading to the Tirik Institute was…singular?”
Addus shakes his head. “You are a child of war, Nile. These are children of peace. They study beauty and develop their magic, while you perfect the practical. I wanted to show you that they are fulfilled too, just as you are.”
“They are children of peace because someone else bears arms on their behalf.” The words spill. For this short, private time, I can tell the admiral my true mind, and I savor every second of it. “Nothing is free, sir. Not food, not clothing, not peace and freedom.”
“True,” Addus agrees. “Which is why I and mine stand guard to protect their beauty and innocence, and we are happy to do it. If you give it a chance, there is much our kingdoms can learn from each other that is not rooted in war.”
“May I ask you a question, sir?” I wait for his considered nod before clearing my throat. “If you truly believe the Diante Empire can avoid armed conflict, why is your navy as strong and agile as it is?”
Addus chuckles. “I said we were peace loving, not daft. Our navy is a defensive force. It is our hope never to fire a shot in anger, but should we need to do so, we little wish to miss.” He glances sideways at me. “I must perhaps thank you for the opportunity to fly the Ashing flag a few months
back. It was an important experience for my officers and crew to see what true battle entails—neutralizing the occasional pirate in the Diante West Corridor notwithstanding.”
“They fought admirably.” I mean every word. The Diante saved us once. Perhaps it’s unjust to request it of them again.
“I have a daughter,” the admiral tells me, flowing the conversation smoothly to less treacherous ground. “She is a few years your senior and studies to be a healer. I look forward to introducing you.”
“The honor would be mine.” I smile. “If she takes after her father, I imagine she will do great things. Find a cure for the Gods touched even. Unlock the Metchti Monastery.” I’d once went to sea to find the legendary place, only to learn that it existed only in dreams.
“Mmm.” Addus shrugs. “Perhaps. Though perhaps the Gods touched don’t need to be cured.”
“I imagine everyone would want to give up the side effects at least.” I open my palms. “I’m yet to meet someone who enjoys convulsions, unstoppable bleeds, or muscle decay.”
Addus chuckles. “Is that not a bit like wishing for commerce without money? A market where you only take and never pay?” The humor leaves his voice. “What was it you told me a few minutes back about nothing being free? The tribute the Gods touched pay would have to be borne by someone else if not them. How else could the balance be maintained?”
I have no answer, and we stand shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence until, some time later, the soft beat of Captain Bassic’s boots sounds behind us. Admiral Addus stiffens, and I belatedly realize that he must have given orders for us not to be disturbed, for no one had spoken to either the admiral or me since he’d joined me at the rail bells ago.
Bassic stops a few paces from us. His face is tight and his bow too brisk for diplomacy. My heart skips a beat as the Diante captain straightens before his superior. “Forgive me, sir, but the Wave is signaling. Sails off starboard.”