Chapter 22
Dalila and I were separated before we could exchange a word, my companion hustled away by spear-wielding guards while I was readied for that “journey into the hills,” a fate that sounded more pleasant than what I suspected Queen Lab truly had in store.
But with Dalila captured—still in possession of Khayzur’s feather—and my unaware crew at the mercy of the Khatti Ugalans, I didn’t dare fight back.
Not yet. The queen’s men brought a pair of boots to replace my sandals and a waterskin to loop through my belt and then escorted me to a back gate.
Shame burned through my blood; I felt as though a bull being led to slaughter on a silken tender.
Who was this meek woman reduced to sniping with her companions and following the orders of a trussed-up queen?
Granted, a trussed-up queen who’d just defeated a creature I’d thought invincible, but still.
We should have just robbed them. None of this subtlety business.
Robbed them and fled into the mountains.
Granted, we would’ve had to abandon the Marawati and likely been devoured by griffins, but at least I wouldn’t have had to put up with snobbish courtiers and been mugged by my own Mistress of Poisons.
Queen Lab was waiting beneath a portico heavy with flowering vines, dressed in a simple knee-length tunic and leather shoes, her delicate slippers and gorgeous gossamer capes nowhere to be seen, like a butterfly shed of its wings.
A sheathed hunting knife hung from a cord at her waist, her black hair plaited in a braid wound around her head.
“Captain al-Sirafi.” She nodded to the weapons belted to my waist. “I believe we shall finally divest you of those. Should we encounter anything dangerous, I have my knife.”
Frankly, I was surprised they’d let me hold on to them this long. Having little choice, I handed my belt to a waiting guard.
She tilted her head with a knowing look. “The others, as well.”
Robbed them. Robbed them and run straight back into the jungle. But I forced an agreeable expression to my face as I removed the hidden knives strapped to my ankle and biceps and tossed them over with a bit more force.
“Excellent,” Lab replied. “Shall we go?”
“Into the hills? Is that not where your people fear that griffins dwell?”
She brushed off my concern. “No. Griffins prefer mountains; these hills are too wooded for them, but they still provide a rather bracing trek. It is a good place to clear one’s head, to have an honest conversation, yes?”
I wasn’t sure which sounded more threatening: honesty or monsters. “After you, then.”
The queen headed off without another word, not on the gentle sandy path that ambled through the dunes, but on one of the rockier trails heading directly into the heights.
I followed, noticing that her guards had stayed behind and were soon entirely out of view.
I suppose she didn’t need them, not when she’d made damnably clear she had other ways to protect herself.
Lab was spryer than I would have expected, clambering over scrub and dodging roots, skipping from stone to stone like a child at play.
The morning’s mist had long burned away, replaced by a relentless sun.
It was the hottest day I had encountered thus far in Khatti Ugal, and it was not long before sweat dampened my brow and my head began to pound.
Very soon the path straggled away to nothing, the ground rising more steeply.
And though I had no problem trekking the long distance between the Marawati and the city, it was this exact type of motion—the short, choppy steps, the uneven ground—that had always tormented my knee.
Before long, a hot tightness gripped the joint, a spike of pain with each step.
“Are you all right, Captain?” Lab called over her shoulder, the first words she had spoken since we departed, no concern in her tone. “Dalila says an old injury often plagues your knee.”
Dalila. Had Lab called her by her given name before? There had always seemed to be a distance: doctor, healer. “I am fine, thank you.”
“Has she tried the new salve yet? She seemed ever so pleased to investigate the properties of our griffin claw flower.”
It was extremely disconcerting to be chatting about my knee amid the lethal tension hanging over us.
“I . . . Ah, she might have, yes. She experiments so much on us that I scarcely ask after the details anymore.” But saying that aloud made me wonder if perhaps I should have.
Shown some interest, some appreciation for the ways Dalila had tended to my crew over the years instead of seeing her only as the Mistress of Poisons.
“She is a good friend,” I added softly. “An excellent healer.”
“And is that a new endeavor for her after a lifetime of murder and theft?”
“I take it that your new arrivals are continuing with their allegations,” I replied, my voice careful.
“It stretches credulity to dismiss them as allegations when they knew your names unprompted and their tale makes more sense.”
“And what is that tale?”
“That your husband”—she stressed the word—“rescued a Khatti Ugalan lost at sea last year, the courtier whose fate I so desperately inquired after when you arrived. It seems he died in some sort of melee, but not before attracting a good deal of attention. To a peaceful, isolated, backwards kingdom unaware of the ways of the world, with limited weapons?” Her eyes grew hard.
“Ripe for the plucking, some might say.”
Recalling how fiercely protective the queen was of her people, I did not dare jest. “Is he still alive?” I asked instead. “My husband?”
“For now.” When I opened my mouth, she held up a hand. “I’m asking the questions, Captain. Did you encounter my courtier?”
“No, Resplendency. There were rumors, yes,” I allowed, deciding a bend in the truth would be more believable than an outright lie. “But sailors are gossipy, superstitious sorts who fill their journeys with exaggerations. I did not wish to stoke your hopes.”
“Exaggerations? Such as ‘Amina al-Sirafi is one of the most notorious pirates in our world. There is not a shore she has left unplundered, nor fishing village left without wailing widows. She lies as she breathes, her victims as numerous as the stars.’”
Truly, the audacity of some arsonist describing me as such! Was there any way to cast doubt on whatever wild tales of criminality the bandits had filled Queen Lab’s ears with?
Particularly when some might be true? “Not all lands are as enlightened as Khatti Ugal,” I suggested, attempting a compliment. “You said yourself that a female ship’s captain and doctor struck you as unusual. Gossip has always followed Dalila and me.”
The compliment did not work. “Ah, so now we are enlightened?” Lab retorted. “And here I believed you found us backwards.”
“No, of course not,” I insisted. “I find your kingdom most wondrous, your people—”
“Na?ve? Gullible?” Lab’s voice seethed with hostility. This was a side of the queen I hadn’t seen, rage transforming her lovely features. “We welcomed you, I welcomed you—made an exception for your ship that caused dissension amongst my council—and all the while you’ve been making a fool of me.”
“I never meant to do so,” I said urgently. That wasn’t entirely true—I had very much planned to renege on our deal and steal away with my crew and the spindle as soon as doing so became a viable option, but honesty rarely served me well. “I swear.”
We had reached a tall, craggy escarpment.
Beyond, the sky was bright blue, marked by scrubby cedar trees.
We were higher than I’d ever ventured, and the view was stunning: all white sand beaches, tropical waters, and the elegant city.
Just below was a narrow ravine leading to a sandy valley of towering pines and massive rock structures, as though a giant had tossed game pieces upon a forest.
“Then, let me hear it now, al-Sirafi.” The sun was high and Lab’s eyes shouldn’t have been so dark, so cold. “I shall give you one more chance to be truthful.”
If I needed to disclose all my lies, we were going to be here for several days. There was silence for a moment, both of us assessing the other.
Hurl her over the cliff. However, knowing my luck, Lab would simply float on a cloud of that strange magical dust with which she’d vanquished Raksh and then order my crew tortured to death.
But I needed to give her something, and better Lab believe me a lost bandit than a supernaturally blessed treasure seeker sent to steal one of her possessions.
“I am the pirate they described,” I confessed. “At least I was once. I have since left the path of criminality. I am a mother, like you,” I added, praying the commonality might soften her.
It did not. “And your reason for being here?” she demanded.
“Misfortune.” That wasn’t a lie. “There was a great conflagration in a port town to the north. Many of us fled all at once, and I suspect we were caught in whatever unusual currents and storms bring so many shipwrecks to your shore. But we mean your people no harm, I swear.”
“You swear?” She scoffed. “What value does your word have? You arrived upon a sea of lies and if you admit to being a criminal—forgive me, a reformed criminal—that scarcely makes me comfortable hosting you in my city. Khatti Ugal may be cut off from the world, but plenty of us are descended from seafarers and we know well the scourge of pirates.”
There was such venom in the words that it took me aback. Had Lab lost family to pirates?