Chapter Twenty-One. Gin
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GIN
There’s no time to waste, and as soon as Darius gets a team together, we are off on a schooner for Lacon. Eban keeps to the deck while I linger in the cabin.
Darius’s ship is well equipped, with private quarters belowdecks and plenty of emergency provisions on board, a far cry from the dinky fishing vessel we’d arrived in.
This boat reminds me of all the luxuries at House Eternal, as it’s clear a lot of thought went into providing convenience and comforts.
The beds are lush, covered in soft linens and plump pillows, and each room has a full tea service in polished silver, a small table to be used for eating or writing, and a large trunk for storage.
It’s much more Laconian in style than Ophir, which Darius explained was something of a cover to blend in when he does business on the mainland.
I’m still a bit irritated with Darius for wanting to leave me behind, even though I know he was just trying to protect me.
He likes me, I can tell. I’m not sure what I feel about him, though.
It’s flattering, but I’ve only just met him.
I know Eban is wary of him, which worries me.
I trust Eban. We’re each other’s only friend in the world now.
Vergel’s dead, Aris is dead, and somehow, even without voicing it, we understand that at least we have each other.
Aside from Aris, I’ve never had a friend in the Sleeve.
Eban understands me in a way that even Rollo never did, because we grew up in the same place, practically had the same awful childhood.
Eban could have killed me and taken all the loot for himself; instead he saved my life.
Not by lying to his mother like Rollo did, but with his own strength and skill.
I head up to the deck to find him standing next to Darius, watching the crowd gathered at the dock to see us off. The slender vessel cuts easily through the waves, darting through whitecaps, the wind propelling us across the sea.
“We’re far too obvious in this huge boat.” Eban scowls. I understand the meaning beneath his words: Eban thinks Darius is showing off.
Darius doesn’t address Eban’s complaint directly.
He makes an announcement to everyone on board, which, aside from the three of us, is two shipmen and a couple of warriors who will stay behind and guard the ship while we’re on our mission.
“We’ll anchor near the cliffs and take one of the rafts to shore.
The ship won’t be noticed behind the rocks.
We can head to the estates and House Dominant from there. ”
He turns to me with a smile. “Think you could give me a hand? I’m going to inspect the rigging.
” Darius is standing with his back against the sun, aglow like some type of god.
But before I can even ask Darius what exactly he wants me to do, Eban marches over with his hand held out. “Give me that,” he tells Darius.
Reluctantly, Darius hands him a rope. I watch as the two of them navigate the complicated system of masts and sails. At times they even seem to be cooperating. Eban glances back at me a few times but I keep my face blank.
When they’re done, Darius asks if I’d like a tour of the boat, and even with Eban’s eyes boring into my back, I say yes. Eban and I are friends now, but we’re not more than that, and I don’t see why I can’t be nice to our host.
Darius is delighted and spends time explaining all the sections of the ship.
But after an hour of this, I’m bored of following him around.
Handsome or not, there are only so many names of ship parts I can memorize at once, so I excuse myself and go belowdecks to escape the blazing sun.
I just want to lie down in the calm dark while I’m still able.
Once we arrive in Lacon, there won’t be many opportunities for rest, and I need to gather as much strength as possible.
I haven’t even fully recovered from the battle against the Blackcoats.
I only hope Eban and Darius won’t be at each other’s throats as soon as I walk away.
Moments after I sink into the feather-stuffed bed and give in to the melodic sway of the boat in the waves, I hear that tiny voice again. Excuse me, Gineth.
I sigh and take the bottle out of my pocket.
-Sorry, I was taking a nap. Is something wrong?
Did I eavesdrop correctly? Are we to go to House Dominant?
-If all goes according to plan.
A high-pitched squeal emanates from within. Tadhana’s light bounces around frantically, banging against the sides of the bottle.
“Hey! Hey!” I shout. It shakes in my hand. “What’s wrong?”
The light slows down, until it settles at the bottom. I hear Tadhana say, nearly whispering, House Dominant is dangerous.
-I know. We’re going to be as careful as we can.
They were one of the worst of them all, Tadhana replies mournfully.
-The worst of who? The estates?
Of the rebels.
-You mean the conquerors.
I suppose you could call them that.
That’s what we call the Laconians. Conquerors.
They came to Ophir and defeated us, conquered our lands and subjugated our people under their rule.
Ophir schools, such as they are, prepare us to serve Lacon.
From birth, we’ve been taught that Ophir are born defective, unable to govern ourselves or others, and that when Lacon arrived, we were nothing but barbarians, and far from an organized civilization, due to what they’ve termed Ophir’s lack of respect for authority and order.
There are no Ophir books. No ancient scrolls remain, and only fragments of our language.
The few stories that are passed down, whispered from mother to daughter, father to son, are mere fantasies.
My mother said Ophir was an empire once, and a place full of magic and wonder.
That our warriors were undefeated, and feared throughout the world.
That we ourselves are made of magic. But if that was true, how did we end up in the Sleeve?
In Lacon, we Ophir are told we are lesser and so must live on less.
Whereas Laconians are superior in every way and thus are deserving of their sprawling palaces with lush green courtyards.
Their lives are soft and easy, like the velvet and damask they wear, and they travel in shining carriages, pulled by strong, well-groomed horses.
Lacon ancestors are immortalized in marble statues and life-size paintings that hang in their halls as well as in leather-bound volumes recounting their long, illustrious history.
Meanwhile my people are fighting for their castoffs, chunks of bread discarded after a banquet, an old dress that might be repurposed into clothes for multiple children.
All my life I’ve been beaten down, and so, yes, I believe it when Lacon tells me that I’m nothing more than an undeserving gutter rat, barely human.
But that was before we found the relics, and the Lashing. I’m starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those old wives’ tales about Ophir’s glorious past could be true.
What do you know about the conquerors? I ask Tadhana.
It’s been quite some time since the fall. I’m sure you know as much as or more than I do.
I shake my head. I don’t know anything.
What do you mean, you don’t know anything? It’s all there, in the Chronicles.
My eyebrows furrow. What chronicles?
Tadhana’s light bounces around again and rattles the bottle. The Chronicles! The word of our ancestors. What do you mean you don’t know about it?
I shake my head again. I told you, we don’t know anything. Nothing’s left of Ophir.
Tadhana jumps around again, then lands at the bottom of the bottle. The light dims some. I hear a faint sigh. So the Chronicles are gone, then, too. Along with everything else.
-I’m afraid so.
I can tell you what I remember of them.
-Please do.
Once upon a time, there was a shining kingdom floating on the sea, filled with wonder and magic, something children all over the realm looked forward to studying.
-Hold on—what do you mean? Children studied magic?
Yes, of course, magic was part of everything in Ophir. So it must be studied to be used correctly.
-But I was taught that we Ophir were a backward people, that we barely had any learning or knowledge.
Lies. All lies. Ophir was a grand and glorious kingdom, our empire lasted for thousands upon thousands of years.
Our floating city traversed the globe until we settled in the Bay of Payun.
We were there at the beginning. We named the stars.
Apolaki the sun god himself married one of our queens. The Lacon were mere—
-Mere? What were you saying about Lacon?
Alas, Tadhana doesn’t respond. “Tadhana?” Seconds later I hear a snore from within. Either Tadhana fell asleep or she’s faking it because she doesn’t want to talk anymore; regardless, my eyes are heavy, too. It’s been a long, exhausting day. “Tell me the rest later,” I yawn.
Once I fall asleep, I dream of a flourishing Ophir in the distant past, where everyone lived in harmony and had access to our ancient wisdom.
There’s a library, with rows upon rows of tablets, scrolls, and bound manuscripts, spanning all the ages of our history.
A figure in a hooded white cloak calls to me.
Come to Ophir. Heed the call of the Drowned City.
Now it holds a book out to me. I see the double diamond mark on their arm, similar to mine and Eban’s.
I take the book, heavy, dry, and cool to the touch.
But in the dream, when I open it, all the pages are blank.