That explained his earlier comment about attacking Sicarius.
“It didn’t work,” Agarik said. “Fortunately, Sicarius was loyal enough to the emperor not to take it into his own hands to kill a fleet admiral. Rias had time to send warning to your president and describe the assassin so your people could watch for him—that’s a part of the story you could verify when you get home, I imagine.”
A spark of hope kindled. If the president knew Rias had tried to help him, maybe it would make a difference someday if...
Tikaya shook her head. Was she truly still thinking of bringing him home?
“Sicarius took word back to the capital,” Agarik continued, “and the emperor about shi—, er, he was livid at Rias’s disobedience. He stripped him of his name, his rank, his ancestral lands, everything, and ordered him taken to Krychek Island. The story passed around is that Rias was assassinated by Nurians.”
“Why the story?” Tikaya wondered. “Why tell everyone he was dead?”
“He’s a hero to our people and well-liked. He had scads of loyal men who would have made rescue attempts if they knew he was alive.”
“Then why not actually kill him?” Could the emperor have known he would need Rias again?
“My guess,” Agarik said, “is the emperor wanted his best military strategist somewhere he could get to him again if needed. Though that’s quite a gamble.”
Tikaya raised her eyebrows.
“Krychek Island isn’t a place you put someone for safe keeping,” Agarik said, tone bleak. “I remember newspaper stories over the years about some of the men who got sent: cannibals, serial murderers who defiled their victims, molesters who tortured children. Crazy people who aren’t right in the head.” Agarik ran a thumb along the muzzle of his rifle. “I reckon Krychek Island is like a Harvest Moon War.”
Tikaya had heard the Turgonian expression a couple times, but had not stopped to think about the meaning. “As in the war goes so late in the season that even if you win, there’s no one at home to bring in the crops, so your family starves over the winter?”
“That’s the gist of it. When Rias first came on board, he didn’t talk to anyone. He was just the unpredictable monster locked away in that dark cell, and it seemed to suit him. You’d catch him in the light, and you’d see this crazy haunted look in his eyes. The captain was scared of him, and all those guards following him around in the beginning weren’t for show. That’s why I was so startled when he spoke out on your behalf. He hadn’t said a word to anyone up until then. But I guess having a woman present made him want to be more civilized. To pull himself together, you know?”
Tikaya closed her eyes. Rias had never spoken of his time on the island. What demons might it have left cavorting in his head?
“I would hate to see him like that again,” Agarik said, eyes sad. “Are you irrevocably mad at him? It’s hard to tell with you. Today you worked together as if nothing stood between you, and you saved us again. You’re a good team.”
Though there was nothing accusing in Agarik’s words, they made her gut twist with guilt. Everyone thought she was mad at Rias, him too most likely.
“I’m annoyed that he blindsided me,” Tikaya said, “but mostly I’m frustrated with the cosmos. I can forgive him for being born on the other side and for being an officer—the officer—in the enemy army, but I can’t see having a life with Fleet Admiral Starcrest. It would be a huge betrayal to those I love—I loved.”
“It wouldn’t be any sort of betrayal to turn your back while they return him to Krychek?” Agarik said.
“He wouldn’t let them do that.”
“He won’t have a choice. That assassin outfought him before, and...I’m not sure he’ll care enough to worry about escaping if he doesn’t have anything to live for.”
Tikaya stared at the floor. His words shamed her. She had been thinking only of herself and how Rias might fit into her life.
“I better get back to my rounds,” Agarik mumbled.
“You’re a good man, Agarik. I never expected you to play matchmaker for us.”
His lips curled wryly. “Me either. But I reckon if you care for someone and you can’t have their love, you can either be a spiteful bastard about it or you can try your damnedest to make sure they’re going to find some happiness in the world.”
* * * * *
Tikaya yawned, a great face-tilting-up kind of yawn that made her crack the back of her head on a cabinet door. That, and her bleary eyes, forced her to concede that she needed sleep. She, fearing the marines would move on too quickly, had spent several hours learning as much as she could from the lab, scrawling notes at top speed. Agarik had been nice enough to bring her food and her notebook so she could avoid the camp for a while longer, but he claimed not to have seen the journal. She thought that odd since she had tucked it into the same place in her rucksack as the notebook, but she had been in a rush to grab a bow at the time, so perhaps it slid to the bottom.
Tikaya picked her way past snoozing bodies toward her gear. Aside from Agarik and a man perched at the top of the stairs, the rest of the marines slept. She did not see the assassin.
She spotted Rias on the edge of the camp, sprawled on his parka amongst a pile of disassembled machine innards. She grinned. Just like a child fallen asleep on the floor amongst his toys. But, as she stepped closer, she noticed his eyes moved beneath his lids, and some dream turned his lips to a grimace. Agarik’s words about Krychek Island came to mind. She sat on the rucksack next to him and stroked his hair.
Rias’s eyes opened and, for a moment, confusion creased his brow.
“Where were you?” Tikaya murmured.
He rubbed his face. “Nowhere pleasant.”
“Should I feel bad about waking you, or is this an improvement?”
Though he did not lift his head, his eyes roved, taking in the bleak black ceilings, black walls, and snoring marines. He smiled though. “Nobody was fondling my head in the dream.”
Careful to avoid his bruised eye, Tikaya brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead. “I translated the symbols on the cubes.” She recited the lines from memory, and he made the same conclusion as she had.
“Cleaning devices? That’s amazing.”
“More disturbing, I’d say, since humans are something to be incinerated along with the trash.”
“Actually, I was talking about you. You just got your first real clue about the language in Wolfhump, what, three days ago? And now you’re reading it.” Rias gripped her hand and gazed up at her, dark eyes full of pride. “When you get home, you’ll be the main story in the next volume of Archaeology Monthly.”
The lump in her throat made her laugh more of a hiccup. Rias’s words reminded her, not for the first time, how different he was from Parkonis, who had always envied her language gift. His congratulations had been grudging when she had been selected by the president to work on decryptions during the war. She had not even wanted the dubious honor, made even more dubious by the predicament it had landed her in, but he had envied her the recognition. Maybe there was good reason to love someone who had so many accolades of his own that he could never feel jealous of a bright philologist. Of course, she reminded herself, Rias had nothing now except a trip back to a savage island of deranged criminals. And still he was proud of her.
“Something wrong?” he asked gently.
“No.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’ve—”
His eyes widened. “Tikaya. You don’t need to—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Let me finish, please?” When he did not nod, she left her finger there. “Before I met you, before Parkonis died, before the war, I knew what I wanted from life. I dreamed of sharing a little house near the beach with someone, close enough to town to walk to the market and the Polytechnic. I’d teach in the mornings and work in the labs in the afternoon, studying relics and data our field people brought in. And I’d have two children, a boy and a girl, of course. Blond hair, b
lue eyes, freckles.” She smiled wryly, acknowledging the unlikeliness that life would ever turn out exactly as she dreamed. “When Parkonis came along, I knew he was the one who could give me that dream.” Her smile faded, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Then the war came, and Parkonis died, and my dream died too. It’s hard for me to admit it, because it’s so selfish, but I think I’ve spent the last year mourning the loss of my dream as much as I’ve been mourning his death.”
She felt silly holding her finger to Rias’s lips. He was watching and listening. She turned her hand over and brushed her knuckles along his jaw.
“And then I met you. Of course I knew you were a Turgonian as soon as I heard you speak, and you admitted to being in the war, but I imagined you were just some ship’s engineer following orders, some simple soldier who none of my people could blame their troubles on, and I had all these ideas about how you could come home with me, and...maybe my dream could live again.” She shook her head. “It’s not your fault you don’t fit into the fantasy I made up. It’s not as if there weren’t clues to the contrary. I was just set on my theory, because I thought I could work you into my life somehow that way. Like I said, it’s selfish. And I’m sorry.”
Rias sat up abruptly, and her hand fell away. “Tikaya—”
“Emperor’s bunions,” Bocrest growled. He lay a couple of men away with his arm flung over his eyes. “If you two are going to wake people up with your relationship crap, you could at least be fucking, so we’d have something to watch.”
Rias winced at the crude words. Tikaya’s cheeks warmed, but she kept her tone light when she said, “Is he really one of your emperor’s most trusted officers?”
“Only because of his parents.”
Feral noises emanated from Bocrest’s throat.
Rias stood up, took Tikaya’s hand, and led her away from the sleeping men. Her heart sped up, and she wondered if he had Bocrest’s suggestion in mind. He went to a corner, out of earshot if they talked quietly, but within sight of the camp, so she supposed not. Too bad.
They sat, backs against the wall, shoulders touching.
“Tikaya,” Rias said, staring at the floor. “I appreciate your words, but hearing you apologize to me is like getting a dagger in the chest. I’m the one who... I need to say...” He snorted, or maybe it was a laugh. “My men used to call me courageous because I’d lead the way into battle and take risks others thought ludicrous. They didn’t know that it was just arrogance. I thought I was too good to get myself killed. I knew I wasn’t immortal, but I won often enough that I always thought I’d come out on top. So, it wasn’t really courage.” He continued to look down, avoiding her eyes. “Courage is the ability to do the right thing when you’re terrified of the consequences. I’ve only recently realized that I’m a coward.”
For a moment, the only noise was the snoring of the marines. She could hear herself breathing.
“You asked for my name, more than once, and I could have told you. You deserved the truth. If I’d wanted you to know, I wouldn’t have let Bocrest’s threats sway me, but I knew as soon as I told you, that your willingness to spend time with me would be over. I wouldn’t be able to dream that somehow, someway...
He fiddled with his hands. “Tikaya, I’m not a young man. I’ve been in love before, infatuated with beauty or taken by a sympathetic shoulder, but no woman has ever asked me to explain my papers on mathematics.” That familiar half smile tugged at his lips. “And, dear ancestors, the fact that you were the cryptomancer too?” He chuckled. “I fell for you that first day we shot together on the exercise deck.”
She watched his face as he spoke and tried to memorize every word. Her heart soared at his naked admission.
“But I knew you could never love Fleet Admiral Starcrest, the man who—Ottotark is correct—pointed out to the emperor the strategic value in having a base on your islands, and helped try to make that advice a reality. Even if you could somehow forgive that person for hurting your people, I’m sure they—your family—would never understand. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of your ostracism. I kept trying to convince myself to keep my distance, to figure out a way to make sure you walked away at the end of this, and to just accept my fate. It didn’t work. I was afraid to tell you, afraid to lose you, and so I made the wrong choice.” He finally looked up, forced himself to meet her eyes. “I’ve been a coward, and, in being so, I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Emotion welled in Tikaya’s throat. She had fallen in love with him every bit as much as he had with her. The thought of going home by herself, never to see him again, brought tears to her eyes.
She wanted to hug him, to kiss him, but she caught the marine on guard watching them. She settled for leaning her head against Rias’s shoulder. “I forgive you.”
He rested his head on hers, and neither suggested returning to camp to sleep. She thought about bringing up her suspicions about Bocrest’s mission. If Rias had risked his career because he thought assassinating her president dishonorable, surely he would not knowingly help the emperor obtain weapons that could wipe out millions of innocent people. She trusted him more after his confession, but she still hesitated. His first questions to her came to mind, the way he had asked if her president was a good person, if the people liked him. Now she realized he must have had regrets during his time on Krychek, that those questions had been a damaged man asking if it had been worth it. If he had those moments to live over, would he make the same choice? Could she trust him now to make the right choice over one that might gain him the emperor’s favor once again?
Rias lifted his head. “Is that the journal you found?”
Tikaya looked toward camp. It was the journal. And the assassin was reading it. She could have smacked herself on the forehead for not hiding it. If Sicarius was the one who tortured Lancecrest, he was also the one who had been looking for the journal.
She jumped to her feet and hustled toward the camp while trying not to look like she hustled toward camp. If she seemed desperate to keep it to herself, it would arouse suspicions, but she had to get it away from him.
Sicarius flipped through the pages. The way his dark eyes skimmed the columns from top to bottom and left to right made her believe he could read Kyattese. He lifted his head as she drew near, and Tikaya’s determined step faltered when that cool gaze landed on her.
“Uhm, that’s mine. I mean, I’m the one who found it, and I’ve been translating the runes drawn in there. The owner’s guesses are largely incorrect, so you wouldn’t want to...” She stopped talking since he had already turned his attention back to the journal.
To make sure her concerns were founded, she switched languages and asked, “Can you read Kyattese?”
His eyes flicked up briefly, but she received no answer. She took another step, toying with the idea of seeing if he would let her take it out of his hands. An arm slipped around her waist from behind.
“Yes,” Rias said near her ear. “He can. Among other languages.” He put a hand on her arm and guided her to her rucksack. “Is there something in it you don’t wish him to find?”
Her uncertainties about Rias’s regrets and loyalties made her hesitate, but she needed an ally, and he was still the most likely one. She did not see how she could fool the Turgonians and eliminate the threat to her people—to the world—by herself. “Instructions on how to launch the rockets.”
His grip tightened on her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me what was in there?”
Tikaya watched his face. “I didn’t know whose side you were on.”
“That’s...” Rias closed his eyes, “understandable. Get some rest. We’ll look for an opportunity to get it back tomorrow.”
Tikaya found her bedroll, but her earlier weariness had disappeared. For a long time, she lay on her side, watching the assassin read.
CHAPTER 17
Water trickled somewhere in the distance. After the monotonous black walls and tomb-like silence of the tunnels thus far, Tikaya would appreciate
some dripping stalactites, striated walls, bumpy columns—proper cave appurtenances. As of yet, though, no end of the alien passages lay in sight.
The marines marched ever deeper with Bocrest and Rias leading, and Tikaya walking behind them. Sicarius came and went, sometimes padding soundlessly alongside the captain, other times exploring on his own. That morning, Rias had given a briefing highlighting the dangers of the tunnels. Admonitions had included “no touching things” and “don’t wander off on your own.” The assassin apparently did not believe rules applied to him, and she could not even wish him to get lost and fall off a cliff, not as long as he had her journal.
“You’ve been here longer than us, right?” Bocrest asked when Sicarius returned from one of his roaming stints. “Do you know where the archaeologists are?”
“No.”
“Do you know where the weapons are?”
“No.”
“Do you know what other dangers we’ll face?”
“No.”
The assassin’s cool monotone never changed, though Bocrest’s pitch grew more agitated as he failed to hear the answers he wanted. He was probably used to flogging kids this age for not cleaning the head sufficiently.
“What do you know?” Bocrest asked.
Tikaya, walking behind them, had a good look at the frosty gaze Sicarius slid the captain. She glanced at Rias who merely raised his eyebrows. He might pull her away and keep her from doing something stupid to annoy the young assassin, but he did not appear inclined to watch out for Bocrest.
“I crossed the mountains on foot and arrived only a day before you,” Sicarius said.
He withdrew the purloined journal, and Tikaya’s fingers twitched. She strained to see over his shoulder as he opened it to a dog-eared page. The instructions. He ripped them out. He turned to another page in the back of the journal and tore the bottom third off.
“What are you doing?” Tikaya blurted.
Sicarius ignored her, showing the scraps to Bocrest. “Operation instructions for the rockets and the sequence of runes Lancecrest pushed to get into the weapons chamber.”