Chapter 26 Hakara
Hakara
Langzu – on the Sanguine Sea
Trade at the anchor has slowly diminished over the years, though both Langzu and Pizgonia stand to benefit.
Goods are sometimes lost in the barrier.
Trade agreements are old and out of date.
Payments have been slowly adjusted upward, but changes are not nimble, and the goods available have never remained the same.
The governments of Langzu and Pizgonia have made revisions through handwritten notes sealed in oilskin packets; however, several exchanges are necessary before anything can be agreed upon.
Practically, it works thusly – goods are secured to wooden floats and then attached to two of the chains at the anchor.
One from the originating side and one from the other side.
Someone pulls the chain taut to signal the goods are being sent over.
The other side pulls the chain from their side until the float of goods (hopefully) appears, and secures the chain from the other side to the platform on their side.
Payments are marked numerically and are sent with the preceding shipment.
It’s a delicate system that is gradually breaking down, one tiny piece at a time.
Soon, trade between the continents may become a thing of the past.
The winds died down soon after we left port. And in spite of the captain’s reassurances, his ship, The Birdeater, was not the fastest in Xiazen. I watched the sails of Lithuas’s ship recede into the distance a little at a time, day after day, until we could no longer see it.
We were moving, yet it felt like we were still.
The cabin we shared was small, The Birdeater clearly not built for guests.
So I spent most of every day pacing from stern to prow and back again.
Thassir had let Rumenesca free, and she roamed the bowels of the boat.
If she survived on mice and rats, I didn’t see it.
I only saw him feeding her scraps from his own meals – bits of dried fish and the tentacles of squid.
On the third morning, I slid from my hammock, the sway of the ocean making my head swim, and crept up to the deck before the crew woke.
Alifra was there at the stern, staring out over the uneasy sea, the water dark by early-morning light.
Her russet hair was loose, a cloud swaying around her head with the wind.
“Sometimes I think I can’t bear it,” she said, her gaze never breaking from the ocean.
“The loss. That ending of possibilities, what should have been. But then another moment passes, and somehow I’m still here. ”
I rocked from foot to foot, the tension from my bond with Rasha pulling at the back of my mind, that bright and tangy feeling that reminded me of the way she glared at me each time I made a bad joke.
She was still alive, but she was also gone.
I swallowed, my throat tight. “Does it ever get easier?”
“In some ways, yes. But the pain remains.”
A small part of me wanted to stand with Alifra at the railing, to feel the spray of the waves and sink into my thoughts. But the larger part of me wanted to keep moving, to leave the moment behind. I’d forgiven myself for what had happened to Rasha. Wasn’t that enough?
I wished the ship were a hundred times bigger. A thousand. “How long until we reach the anchor?”
Alifra let out a sigh. “Another five days if the winds pick up. Who knows how long if they don’t.”
Five more days on this boat, with no place to go except pacing the deck. I could go back to the cabin. Find Dashu. See if he’d spar with me. I’d lose, every time, but at least I’d be doing something.
I left Alifra at the rail and made my way back below decks.
The narrow space below the door was dark, which meant Thassir and Dashu were still asleep.
I should let them sleep. No sense in waking them up so early.
Except I couldn’t stand the stillness. So I took the nearest lamp from its hook and opened the door.
A woman sat on the floor of the cabin.
I’d never seen her before in my life – not in Xiazen, not on this boat, not anywhere.
Her clothes were odd, a cut I didn’t recognize, the neckline square, the hem asymmetrical.
Small flowers had been embroidered around the neckline, the shirt topped with a short and colorful vest, made entirely of square patches.
Golden ear cuffs curved around the top of each ear, her linen pants loose and flowing.
She looked up at me in alarm, her shoulders hunching, her back arching. Her brown hair was the same wood-oak color as her skin, loose ringlets falling to her shoulders. Vivid green eyes caught mine. I didn’t only have no idea who she was, I had no idea where she was from.
I had my sword drawn before I’d even remembered unsheathing it. Black wings ruffled as light from the lamp reached Thassir’s eyes. Dashu stirred.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Her nose twitched, as though she’d smelled something she didn’t like. She rubbed at the side of it with her wrist. “It should be safe out here.” Her voice was muffled, thick. She cleared her throat and tried again. “We’re in the middle of the Sanguine Sea, yes?”
I didn’t lower my blade. Dashu poured out of his hammock, the flower hilt of his sword in his hand as though it had been there while he slept. “Answer her question.”
The woman licked her lips. “Are we?”
We stared at one another. Dashu caught my gaze, an eyebrow raised, one shoulder rising in a confused shrug as he pointed the blade at the strange woman. “Not her. You answer her question. Who are you?”
I believed I’d said “Who the fuck are you?” but this was clearly not the time for finer points.
She didn’t rise; she stretched right there on the wooden boards, her arms laid flat in front of her. “Gods below, it’s been almost a century. I don’t… It’s Talieluna. You can call me Talie.”
“What I should be calling you is dead, because that’s what you’re about to be if you don’t explain.”
She yawned, as though my threat bored her. “You’re not a godkiller.”
Dashu and I spoke at the same time.
“You’re not—”
“How are you—”
We both stopped. He spread his fingers, allowing me to go first.
“How are you here? Did you stow away?”
A voice rumbled out of the darkness. “No.” Wood creaked as Thassir tipped out of his hammock. “I see her for what she is. A shapeshifter.”
I watched as she ran her hand over her face and then over her hair in a gesture that felt oddly familiar.
I set the lamp down on a side table, but kept my sword raised.
I’d seen that gesture before, though not in a human form.
It struck me, clear as a mountain spring.
“You’re… a cat. You’re the cat that Thassir took from the safe house. ”
“I am a god,” she said, in the sort of self-satisfied manner that told me she must have been a cat for a very, very long time.
She’d been living off scraps, shitting on the streets.
We’d carried her from Bian to Xiazen in a basket.
Really, there was no cause for smugness.
Well maybe a little on that last bit. Why do the walking when someone else could do it for you?
“Rumenesca,” Thassir said, crossing his arms. I wasn’t sure if he was angry or confused, or both.
“Ninety-eight years as a cat,” she said.
His lips pursed. “And you spent nineteen with me.”
“Nineteen?” The word burst from my mouth. I wanted to punch him. “When were you going to get a clue? When you’d had her for thirty-five years? Fifty?”
He had the gall to turn his nose up at me. “I took very good care of my cats.”
“You took very good care of a baby god.”
Talie finally rose to her feet, her nose crinkling. “I’m older than you are.”
“And your life experiences consist primarily of sleeping in beams of sunlight.”
She lifted a finger. “Now that isn’t entirely true.”
Dashu sheathed his sword, evidently certain that any danger had been prematurely assessed. “Stop. Both of you.” He took in and let out a deep breath. “Fine. There are no godkillers aboard that we know of. But what are you expecting us to tell the captain and his crew?”
Now that she was in her natural form, and we’d established what she was, I could see that faint glow surrounding her, nearly invisible, but there if you looked. A god’s aura. There was something soft-edged about her, something that felt a little like looking at a lamp through the mist.
“They may not notice. And they can’t do anything about it. Not in the middle of the sea. They’ve got goods to get to the anchor, and goods to retrieve. They won’t stop to deal with me.”
The doorknob turned. All four of us whirled to face the door.
Alifra entered. For a moment, all she did was stare.
Then she wisely closed the door behind her.
“When I prayed for a distraction after several days at sea, I did not expect a stowaway god to be the distraction.” She eyed Talie up and down.
“The cat. You were the cat we were carrying. A shapeshifter.”
At least that forestalled some long and awkward explanations.
Alifra didn’t launch into questions; she didn’t draw her daggers or her crossbow. She simply shrugged. “We should get you fed. I can’t imagine you’ve eaten well when you were a cat. I’ll bring some food over from the mess and then we can talk.”
The three of us sat in uncomfortable silence until Alifra returned, her arms laden with a bowl of rice topped with a healthy serving of fish and pickled vegetables. Talie took the bowl with grateful hands, digging into the food with a wooden spoon.
We watched her as she ate.
“She should turn back into a cat,” Dashu murmured. “This raises too many questions. We can’t hide her, and if she’s safe from the godkillers sensing her out here, then she can change back without anyone noticing.”
Her ears twitched. “I can hear you talking about me. This is a very small room. I understand that me being a cat again would be more convenient for you, mortal.” She did not say it in a conciliatory way.