~Translation Note~
Because many Earth flora and fauna are mentioned in this text, one may be tempted to assume that Byntar is too coincidentally Earthlike. I have simply used English names when the species were at all similar and their differences would not affect the story. Therefore, a Byntarian chicken would not necessarily look, act, or taste exactly like a Terran chicken; the word “chicken” was merely used for simplicity’s sake to communicate a non-flying, domesticated fowl kept for eggs and meat. I have also used standard English terms for royalty (king, duke, prince, etc.) even though Byntarian traditions surrounding these ranks conflict somewhat with those of Earth.
Where a word has no reasonable English equivalent, I have supplied the Byntarian word. Please be advised that interplanetary translation is, at best, an inexact science, and forgive my clumsiness in its practice.
~C.H.
~Byntarian Culture~
Byntar is a world of dualities. Two suns, Calla and Cana, rule the days. Guarding the nights are moons Paeva and Pouren. Sentient life continues the duality decreed by suns and moons above.
Elva derives from the ancient word for “heavens”, since Elva coloring echoes the firmament. Elva hair is black as night, white as stars, or any shade of gray clouds. Gray hair is just as likely on infants as adults, as it has nothing to do with age. Their eyes reflect the skies in all its seasons: black as night, gray as the storms, or blue as a summer’s day. Elva are tall and even Elva ears point heavenward. Strong physiques and ambitious constitutions mark the Elva.
Itzi means “earth”. Itzi hair is blond, brown, or red, mirroring autumn leaves. Itzi eyes are usually brown as soil or green like grassy fields. Blue eyes occur, albeit rarely, in Itzi. Itzi blue is attributed to the sea. Itzi statures are closer to the ground and Itzi ears are round like rolling hills. Being substantially smaller and less intelligent, the docile Itzi are content to keep to themselves and allow the Elva to dominate nearly every aspect of life.
Choicest of the Twelve Kingdoms is Latoph, lying on the land’s western coast. Fertile soil and a bountiful ocean provide food for Latophians and a thriving export. Their prosperous civilization is enhanced by the mining of gold, silver, iron, and stone. Continuity of the Rebono Dynasty for the last thousand years has left a legacy of laws and civilization in Latoph which is unparalleled on Byntar. Latophian laws concerning slavery are progressive, allowing debtors to sell both Itzi and Elva for a term of indenture which always ends on a pre-determined anniversary of Queen’s Jubilee. The year of anticipated release is tattooed on the right forearm and the slave is called Numbered. Slavery of this type may also be used as punishment for minor crimes. Serious criminals and prisoners of war are usually designated Permanent Slaves, and the letter “P” is tattooed instead. Nearly all slaves wear “bands” or shackles around the wrists, ankles, and neck, but even this custom is subject to the whim of the owner.
Slavery is prohibited for children under ten and youths are automatically freed at age sixteen. Latophian law protects slaves against maiming and sadistic abuse. Though uncommon, it is not unheard of for individuals to voluntarily accept slavery as a viable option for survival. Such slaves are designated “Freewill” and can be identified by expired Numbers, an identifying Owner’s Mark, or no tattoo at all. Freewill Slaves are subject to the same protections but also the same obligations as all other slaves.
Few of the Twelve Kingdoms are as protective, but several have treaties with Latoph prohibiting capture of slaves across their borders. The slave trade is encouraged, assimilated, and somewhat regulated by the Institute for Training and Correction, which has branches in all Twelve Kingdoms, but subject to the laws and customs of its host sovereign. The ITC also serves to facilitate return of runaways to their rightful owners. Chapter One ~ Captain Zinto
Slices of suns’ light pierced the morning fog. Captain Zinto paced the dock; his white cotton shirt and loose knee-pants billowed in the salty breeze. Deck-seasoned feet made too little sound for his mood, so he stomped to remedy the annoying silence. A tiny crab scurried across the weathered timbers. With a swift kick, Zinto launched the unfortunate creature to sea. The captain grumbled and swore under his breath, flailing his arms as he paced.
The sound of booted footsteps halted Zinto’s silent argument with the invisible. An eight-foot-tall Elva in black silk shirt and kidskin breeches topped by a black velvet manteau emerged from the haze. Zinto’s bushy gray brows furrowed in irritation as he attempted to school his features into proper respect for royalty. A dutiful dip of his head was all he dared offer in his present state.
The young noble smiled and offered a slender hand. “Good morning, Captain Zinto.” Zinto huffed, turned away, and resumed his pacing. “Forgive me for nay agreeing, your highness.”
“Not at all, milord,” the younger replied. “Forgive me for assuming anyone could be as happy as I on this wonderful morning. Is there anything I might help with?”
“Nay a thing, unless ye can command the weather or find some sap to buy a cargo-hold o’ silk in the next hour.”
The nobleman arched a brow and studied Zinto. “Silk, eh? Why would you want to sell it so fast? Is there something wrong with The Spirit of Hamrid?” He looked up at the ship docked close by. Zinto’s proud vessel sat low in the water, all her masts and sails intact, her hull sound.
Zinto snorted softly, then quickly remembered with whom he spoke. “What’s wrong, M’lord Duke, is where your brother ordered her to sail.” The captain couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “He wants a ride to Rilad.”
The duke shook his head. He maneuvered to the skipper’s side and placed a well-manicured hand on the captain’s muscular shoulder. “If I can’t convince King Arx to find other passage, I’ll buy the silk myself.”
Zinto whirled around, blue eyes wide. His face, wrinkled by time and tanned by twin suns, peered at the duke in disbelief. His jaw dropped, revealing several missing teeth. “Y—Ye would? What’d ye do with all that silk?”
“If you must take the king north, then you’ll have to lay anchor in Rilad for the storm season, correct?”
Zinto nodded.
“And the silk would be ruined before you could reach the garment maker’s guild in Dronak, right?”
Zinto nodded again. He was thankful Duke Vahn knew the sea and trade routes, so he didn’t have to explain the predicament King Arx had put him into. He couldn’t store delicate silk in a musty hold for a whole winter, especially in Rilad, where rains would be heavy.
“If I hear of a ship heading south in the next few days, I’ll hire it, of course.”
“Nay much chance o’ that. Ev’r’one headed south has already gone, and anyone headed in is prob’ly plannin’ to winter here.”
“I can store the silk in an empty tavern I recently acquired.”
Zinto nodded again then arched a suspicious brow. The king hadn’t cared for his problems. Why should this tenderfoot duke care? Nothing was ever free. “Ye can’t have anything to gain by storing a load o’ silk. What d’ye expect in return?”
The young noble chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m in a generous mood. You may buy it back next spring at the same price. Perhaps I’ll need a favor someday—”
Zinto interrupted, “Don’t be using me or m’ship as pawns in your feud.”
The duke’s voice lowered and dark brows knit over fiery black eyes. “If that’s what you think, then consider the offer void. Arx is the one who presumes unqualified allegiance by virtue of entering this world a mere seven minutes before I did. If I can’t earn your genuine trust, then I don’t want it.”
Zinto bowed his head. “I’m sorry, your highness. I… I didnay mean it that way. I guess I just expect ye to hold this over m’head.”
“I give you my word as a knight that I won’t. If I could buy your loyalty with gold or silk, it wouldn’t be very valuable, now would it?” He extended his hand again. This time the captain took it and the two grasped each other’s wrists.
“Thank you, your highness. I accept.”
“Good. Now let’s see if I can’t talk my brother out of this nonsense so those Dronakian tailors can get their silk on time. He’s on board already?”
“Aye, he’s aboard. Had to work pretty hard at convincin’ him I couldnay leave wi’out me first mate. Salty’s in town buying rations. If I tell him we’re sailing north with this silk after he haggled the deal o’ the decade to buy it… well, I might lose him.”
“That won’t happen. Either you sail south with your cargo or it stays safe in Ny. And in that case, since you’ll be detained up north, I’ll insist that Arx put your whole crew up at the Royal Palace all winter.”
Zinto laughed and slapped his thigh. “Well, that oughtta do it! Twelve sailors loiterin’ around the landlubber’s fancy palace is enough to spook any man into finding another way home.”
The duke laughed as well. “Permission to board, Captain?”
Zinto smiled. The duke didn’t have to ask; royalty were excused from maritime customs. King Arx hadn’t asked permission to board The Spirit of Hamrid any more than he asked where she was headed when he commandeered her for his trip. “Board her with me favor. Would you be needing m’cabin boy to show you about?”
The duke paused. A sly smile wended over his lips. “Well, I don’t need a tour escort, but I might need some help with my plan. I think I can find the lad. You go ahead and see to your first mate.”
“Aye.” Zinto’s right hand lifted to touch his brow. The duke stood erect and returned the salute. Captain Zinto blinked, surprised. Even odder, the duke stood fast and waited for Zinto to break the salute first. Zinto’s cheeks flushed. He snapped his hand to his side, whirled around, and jogged off toward town.
Duke Vahn waited until Zinto yielded, enjoying the astonishment on the captain’s whiskered face. Mother was right. Peasants appreciated small tokens of respect and usually deserved them more than the nobles. Zinto was a good man, not the sort who would argue with the king, even when compliance meant great personal loss. Vahn had to find some way around his brother’s mistrust. Arx never listened to him.
It was rather disheartening that Arx was leaving Ny so quickly. Vahn knew he hadn’t been a very good host, but surely Arx had understood that he wanted to spend time with the maiden who’d saved both their lives. No one thought she would live. Her miraculous recovery was what sent Vahn looking for his brother in the first place.
A sailor met Vahn at the top of the gangplank and bowed at the waist. “Your majesty.”
Vahn nearly corrected him, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to send a request for audience that would likely be refused. For once, he was glad for the resemblance. Vahn puffed out his chest and tried to sound as pompous as Arx. “As you were, sailor. I need the cabin boy and be quick about it.”
“Right away, your majesty.” The sailor darted below deck.
Vahn removed the manteau from about his shoulders. A sailor or two might not recognize him, but surely Arx’s guards would if Vahn wore his signature black attire. He draped the velvet over his arm and mentally rehearsed his strategy while he waited.
The cabin boy scrambled up the ladder from below deck, looking nervous and winded. He knelt and bowed his head. A meek voice barely escaped. “You called for me, your majesty?”
Vahn smiled and motioned him up with a wave. Now, how to persuade the lad to be his accomplice without implicating him in the crime. He paused, studying the youth. Sandy blond hair lay unkempt about his head. That alone would have given him away as Itzi, but the round ears confirmed it. Curiously, though the boy looked at least twelve, he wore no slave bands. Very unusual for a free Itzi to be given such a position—but of all Elva, Vahn was least likely to object. He thought of the Itzi slave waiting at home for him and couldn’t help but smile.
“I need you to fetch one of the captain’s shirts, lad, and ask no questions. I assure you Zinto already gave his approval.” Vahn winced at his own words. Arx wouldn’t have given any explanation. Nor would his brother have asked the captain to begin with. Thankfully, the lad’s gaze was glued too well to the deck to have seen Vahn’s wince.
“Yes, your majesty, right away,” the boy blurted out. He stumbled over his own feet and rushed back below deck.
Vahn stifled a grin and found a repository on the port-side rail for his manteau. He removed his jerkin and set it atop the manteau, then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails out from his breeches. He waited, staring down a few sailors who cocked brows as they passed him. None were so unwise as to question him, no matter who they thought he was. They all averted their eyes the moment Vahn’s frown made clear their glances were unwelcome.
The Itzi lad returned, panting as he knelt and offered the shirt. Vahn slipped his hand into his jerkin pocket and removed a silver coin. He accepted the white cotton shirt, deftly exchanging it with the coin. The youth blinked, looking up in amazement. Vahn pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head. The boy gave thanks enough with his smile and heeded the dismissing nod without further sound. Perfect. Vahn couldn’t have asked for better from one of his own.
When the boy turned a corner, Vahn quickly looked both ways, then traded his black silk for the white cotton. He left his shirt among the garments already removed, then buttoned and tucked in the captain’s. The shirt was bright white, its good condition leading Vahn to believe it was reserved for special occasions—good enough that Arx might wear it when no one of consequence would see. On second thought, Arx probably wouldn’t wear it even here, pretentious aristocrat he was.
Although that realization caused a sudden flutter of heartbeat, Vahn quickly calmed his nerves with the consolation that it didn’t matter whether Arx would really wear it. The question was, would his guards notice whether a shirt were silk or cotton, or question their king’s choice of raiment? Vahn was certain they wouldn’t.
He shook his head so that the wind could blow his hair into a more anonymous style. He had no looking-plate to examine his reflection, but he knew well enough that his face and stature would carry this off. Even Mother had been unable to tell when they played tricks on her, as long as she didn’t see them together.
Assuming the guards had followed normal palace procedures, they had just changed shifts at suns’ rise. Those stationed outside Arx’s cabin would remain if Arx left. The fresh guards would likely not even know if the king had stepped out before they arrived. The real concern was Arx’s personal bodyguards. Surely at least one would be inside with the king.
Below deck, the duke feigned disorientation with a passing sailor in order to ascertain where “his” cabin was. The sailor dutifully gave him directions. The ceilings were too low to accommodate Vahn’s full height so he hunched over and kept an eye out for the bracing timbers that made him duck even further. Creaking planks and the authoritative click of boot heels loudly announced his coming, but he didn’t attempt to hide. Musty air smelled of fish, both cooked and raw. The narrow passages were dimly lit, which would work in his favor.
The two guards stationed outside the door exchanged mild looks of surprise, but didn’t question him. Vahn had forgotten the thrill of perpetrating a wild scheme. He smiled inwardly; he was actually having fun. He’d felt happier and more alive in the last twelve hours than he had in months. He hoped Arx wouldn’t put a damper on his high spirits.
When the door shut silently behind him, Vahn took quick stock of the room. It was small by royal standards, but large by maritime ones. The porthole was large enough to see the fog clearing outside. Numerous seagulls cawed and cavorted just outside the hull. Arx didn’t stir from his slumber. Though the bed seemed built for two, Arx’s limbs sprawled over the entire surface and his feet protruded over the edge. Only one bodyguard slept soundly on the floor.
Then a dark thought entered Vahn’s mind—a thought completely contrary to his original purpose. Might this be his best opportunity to advance his ultimate goal? If Arx were dead, Vahn would have the Throne and even admitting to slaying his brother would not jeopardize it. By the ancient rights of Twin Inheritance, the kingdom should have been half his to begin with. Father had gone against both tradition and the portents of the Archmage to give Arx the entire kingdom instead. Vahn had been cheated of his birthright.
Additionally, Arx had mishandled kingdom affairs. The populace was losing confidence in their monarch and the borders were highly unstable. Eliminating Arx would certainly neutralize Captain Zinto’s problems as well. Vahn had promised to find Arx another way home besides the Hamrid. A funeral procession would definitely qualify.
Vahn removed the dagger from his boot and tiptoed toward the bed. It was strange to watch the face that looked so much like his own, sleeping there so oblivious to threat. Mother and Father were not alive to be hurt by this. Nor did Vahn much care about all the distant cousins who maintained ties more for politics than any sense of family. He knelt at bedside and stealthily inched the dagger toward his brother’s neck.
The steel glinted in the dim light of the tiny compartment. The edge was sharp and the weapon well-balanced. Vahn was skilled with a blade; he could slice through a throat so fast that Arx would never waken nor know the terror of impending doom. Vahn’s hand didn’t waver as he drew the blade closer to the pulsing neck of his only brother and the last of his close kin.
With neither sound nor disturbance, Vahn grabbed a section of Arx’s hair near the nape of the neck and sheared it off. He replaced the dagger in his boot and held fast to the hair. “Not today, Arx,” he whispered. “Not on the day I set aside for my beloved.” He watched, wondering if his brother would rouse. Arx slept still.
Vahn continued his whispered lecture, his face contorted into a scowl. “You won’t ruin her day and I won’t become the coward Terzak was. It’ll be when I am ready, and not before. And you shall have a weapon in your hand and your eyes wide open. No one will ever say that I didn’t give you every right of your position. If you vanquish me on that day, so be it.”
Just then, Vahn felt a blade press against his throat. Slowly, he raised his hands to show he no longer held the dagger, only a handful of hair. The bodyguard behind him was not placated. He pulled Vahn back, using the blade against his neck as leverage.
“Wake up, Arx!” Vahn growled.
Arx awoke with a start. Dark eyes grew wide in recognition. Before Arx could take a breath to speak, Vahn held the hair up.
“I could have killed you while you slept if I’d cared to.” Vahn tossed the hair to the bedcovers.
Arx reached up and fingered the shorn spot.
“See?” Vahn taunted. The bodyguard retaliated with a rough pull on Vahn’s shoulders and a tightening on the blade. Vahn felt the warm trickle of blood down his neck.
The other guards burst in the door. They pointed their swords at the already immobilized duke, but Vahn just smirked. Arx was still groggy and Vahn intended to take advantage of it.
“Awfully late, aren’t you?” Vahn sneered at the guards. “How long have I been in here? I entered without question, armed with a dagger—a weapon I am quite capable of putting to lethal use. If I had intended to kill my brother, he would be dead already. Now I suggest you take that dagger from my boot and go outside so my brother and I can chat. While you’re waiting, try to think of one reason why King Arx shouldn’t have all your heads for your failure.”
One of the door guards snatched the dagger from Vahn’s boot and then looked helplessly at his stunned sovereign, quaking as he awaited the king’s verdict.
Arx poked the strands of hair on his bedcovers as if to test their substance. Vahn’s words seemed to register belatedly.
“Search his other boot, then leave us,” Arx muttered.
Vahn’s brows slanted. “Not enough that I refrained when I had the perfect opportunity. You can’t even honor my word as a knight.”
The second guard checked the empty boot and backed out with his companion. The bodyguard reluctantly released his grip, freeing Vahn from the chokehold and the blade. Vahn continued to glare at Arx. The bodyguard stood at attention only a few feet away. There would be no privacy without a more specific order from the king.
“Drop it, Vahn,” Arx hissed. “You’re the one who stole in unannounced. I could have you stripped and flogged for this.”
Vahn’s fingers clenched and his lips twisted into a scowl. It took every ounce of restraint not to knock Arx’s teeth out. “You do that, Brother. And be sure to invite kee to watch. Show her how you reward those who spare your life. In fact, maybe you should beat her too for thwarting your assassination.” His words dripped in sarcasm. He’d die before he’d allow his brother or anyone else to touch her.
Arx’s brows raised as he looked up at Vahn. “kee? She’s improving?”
Vahn shot another disparaging look at the unwelcome bodyguard then lowered his voice. “More than improving. The Archmage came last night after you left. He and his disciples healed her completely. There are scars, but she’s whole and hale—and full of contrition for not showing you proper obeisance.”
“I told her not to worry about that.”
“And I told her the same. She was on her deathbed, for Heaven’s sake. But I intend to honor her publicly and I thought you could do better by her if you’d at least pretend to condone it.”
“Well, of course I condone it. And you know I’d want to represent myself and the queen in full participation. Why didn’t you just send a missive?”
“You didn’t exactly make yourself easy to find. I expected you’d be resting at the inn for a few days, not compelling some poor skipper to squander a years’ wages to get you home.”
Arx stepped out of the bed, grunting. “Rubbish. It’s not that far and Zinto was happy to take us.”
“It’s not the distance; it’s the timing. Did you notice how low the ship was in the water? He has a full hold of silk that needs to get to Dronak. If he takes you north instead, his cargo rots in Rilad harbor, where he’ll be forced to winter.”
“Well, he didn’t mention this at all.”
“Of course not. You’re the king and he’s a loyal subject. It’s no wonder the peasants think we don’t give a damn when we commandeer their livelihood for our own petty purposes and don’t even notice how much we put them out. Did you offer any compensation?”
Arx didn’t answer.
“I thought not,” Vahn muttered.
“My whole entourage rode hard to get here on your insistence that the matter with Terzak was urgent. I’m sick of horses and their smell, so I asked Zinto to take us north and he agreed. Maybe he’d like to tell his grandchildren someday how he once hosted the king.”
More likely, your royal butt is sore rather than your snobbish nose offended. Vahn refrained from verbalizing his thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, Arx. He agreed because he felt it was his duty. His pride wouldn’t allow him to complain at what it will cost him to accommodate you. But it’s irrelevant how it happened. What are you going to do, now that you know? If Saerula hadn’t absconded with my carriage, I’d let you take that. Can you trust me enough to find you another way home?”
“No one will be headed north this close to storm season.”
Vahn bit back a triumphant whoop. “Probably not. But I could possibly find someone to skipper my yacht for you. You pay the skipper a reasonable wage and I’ll call it even.”
“Well, I suppose you won’t scuttle your own boat to kill me. That’ll do.”
Vahn ground his teeth to keep from retorting against the implication. “Excellent. Come back to Rebono Keep and—”
“I’ll stay at the inn. Whatever you want to do for kee, do it quick. Arrange the voyage immediately after her tribute.”
Vahn was torn between relief that he’d not have to tolerate his brother in his house and disappointment for kee. She had her heart set on giving the king a proper welcome. She wouldn’t have wanted Vahn to “bother” him for her acclaim. Vahn expected he’d have to order her to accept any sort of honor as it was.
“Arx, if you want to believe I’m out to kill you, that’s your problem. But for kee, would you at least come to dinner? Give her the illusion that she’s made a good name for my house? I’ll make some excuse not to eat with you. Just let her show you some hospitality and accept it for her sake. Please?” He hated to beg his brother, but it would mean so much more to kee than any public commemoration.
“On one condition: plan her honors sometime today and I’ll eat at your table tonight. The two of us will conduct ourselves as befits our station, but when I excuse myself early, you will support me by saying that your skipper wants to leave at suns’ rise. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Just don’t overdo it feigning the brotherly love. She’s not stupid.” Vahn wished he’d never told Arx that kee was Itzi. He wanted Arx to covet her, maybe even attempt to woo her to his service. Heavens, it would be so gratifying to watch her deny him such a treasure. And she would deny him. Vahn had no doubt of that any more. She was his alone.
“I never said she was.”
Vahn dismissed hopes of inciting jealousy and returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. “I was thinking of a parade at teatime. I will put kee on my mount and have my equerry announce her accolades as he leads the horse through the streets. You and I can ride behind her.”
“I’ll walk,” Arx muttered.
Vahn smiled. This confirmed the royal saddle sores. Still, Arx could have insisted on hiring carriages and Vahn didn’t want to give him any opportunity to hide. Surprising enough he’d consent to allowing an Itzi to sit in a higher position. “I will walk as well. Do you wish me at your side or behind you?”
By all rights, Arx was Vahn’s guest in his capital. Vahn could have insisted on equal rank in a parade he was hosting. But it was far more delicious to make Arx choose it himself. Of course, Arx would never want his twin at his back. Vahn could feel his brother agonizing between pretentious pride and utter distrust.
“She is of your house, Vahn. You may walk on my left.”
Vahn bit the insides of his lips. He should have expected Arx to dictate his position and grant permission as if it were some sort of favor. Vahn wanted to spit back something snide, but he more desired to preserve the honor afforded kee. He dipped his head and took on a coldly formal tone. “Of course, your majesty. By your leave then?”
Arx dismissed him with an indifferent wave of his hand.
This is what I get for sparing his pompous hide. Vahn gave the bodyguard a contemptuous glare, marched out, demanded his dagger from the door guards, and deliberately implied that he and Arx had discussed grave punishments. He didn’t wipe the scowl from his face until he was back in the open air, cleaning the blood from his neck and changing into his ebon silk.
Rebono Keep bustled with activity unseen in many months. kee, who just the day before had been too weak to even lift her head, now sang happily amidst a mountain of silver serving vessels divided by color, more shining now than tarnished. She wore a dress of silver sateen trimmed with glossy black ribbon. The luster of the polished cotton perfectly complemented the mirror shine on the silver bands encircling her neck, ankles, and wrists. Her fingers and apron were both heavily stained with buffing compound.
Willow, a short blonde Itzi dressed in the same uniform sans black gunk and silver bands, entered the dining hall and shook her head at kee. “I tried to finish dusting in time to help you, but looks like I’m too late.”
“kee knows. It’s a wonder Niles kept up with anything, all alone as he was. Master Vahn says we shall have more help soon. He is talking to Lord Blackthorn today,” kee said, grinning widely. Master Vahn had promised to take her to the Institute for Training and Correction after he found the king. She could hardly wait for her Owner’s Mark.
Well-meant comments that King Arx would honor kee with invitations to his superior house only made her nervous. She had no desire to serve the king nor did she relish even a slim possibility of brothers dueling over her. Yet, since her marriage to Master Vahn was secret and a king’s edict difficult to evade, the Owner’s Mark would give them both a legal means to refuse without appearing rude or disloyal.
Besides, the Owner’s Mark had been a promised seal of their marriage vows. The bands locked about her ankles, wrists, and neck proclaimed to all that she belonged to him. To her, they were symbols of commitment and all that a wedding ring would be. However, they were the same bands she had worn while Master Vahn was married to Mistress Saerula. Though lighter and more beautiful than the Ringed steel or iron bands most slaves wore, they were symbols of slavery to all but her.
While there was no duchess to demand kee be banished from the house again, a tiny voice inside wanted to be certain her secret husband would never be tempted to “free” her. Emotional scars from the last time had not yet faded. The mages had only cured the physical wounds she acquired in Marquis Terzak’s service.
It was hard to believe Master Vahn could love her as she did him. She, an orphaned Itzi farmgirl, had won the heart of an Elva, and not just any Elva, but the duke of Latoph. kee was still not sure the miraculous healing and everything that followed were naught but proof she had really died and was now in Elysium.
Perhaps the Mark was not as idyllic as a ring and public acknowledgment, but kee was the one who’d rejected that path. It was one matter to hide her Itzi ears and let others assume her dark brown hair was black. Quite another indeed to feign nobility and adopt a role she had neither aptitude nor desire for. She was blissfully happy as his optimess, the head of his house staff. Master Vahn had even appointed her over Niles, the free Elva majordomo.
She looked up at Willow with a smile and a wink, keeping her eyes just short of meeting the other Itzi’s gaze. “kee will finish the silver. Perhaps you could check on the laundry?” Although Willow had assured kee that past conflicts in Terzak’s house had not been kee’s fault, kee was still wary. After all, when Willow accepted the servant position here, she hadn’t expected kee to live. kee wasn’t even sure what chores she could assign a freewoman. She hadn’t had time yet to discuss it with Master Vahn.
Willow smiled back and dipped her head. “I’ll see to it. And if the duke doesn’t give you leave to look me in the eyes, I may just walk out on him.” kee caught her teasing inflection. Willow wasn’t really threatening to leave, but rather giving kee a sign that she accepted kee’s authority, regardless of the difference in their status.
kee wiped her less-dirty hand on a clean cloth and reached out to squeeze Willow’s hand. “kee is sure he will honor your wishes in the matter. And thank you.”
Vahn spoke to nearly everyone he passed in the streets, announcing his parade at teatime and declaring food and drink at Ny’s four largest taverns would be on his account afterward. He whispered into the ears of a few, requesting a meeting later at The Scarlet Dryad. That would be the final tavern he’d make arrangements at, being closest to home and his personal favorite. He had several errands yet before that time.
He bought a new shirt, since the one he’d borrowed had been stained with blood. Vahn found Captain Zinto and his first mate in the marketplace with a citrus vendor, the dejected look on Salty’s face betraying that he’d been given news of King Arx’s shanghai. Vahn grinned and handed Zinto the new shirt. “Smooth sailing to Dronak, my friend.”
Zinto’s jaw dropped and blue eyes grew wide. He stood stunned until Salty let out a whoop and broke into a rousing sailor’s song. Zinto shook his head and then bowed at the waist. “Thank you, your highness.”
“Not at all, Captain. Just be sure you wash the sheets.”
Zinto laughed and extended his hand. Vahn clasped wrists with Zinto in the knight’s handshake. Salty slapped his captain on the back to punctuate the song’s refrain then started to fill a basket with limes and tangerines as he launched into the next verse.
“I need a skipper for…” Vahn paused. His vessel had been named after the former duchess, Saerula. His marriage had been annulled after she’d kidnapped his son and conspired to assassinate Vahn along with King Arx and Queen Phinia. Vahn hadn’t yet renamed his boat. “… my yacht. Any suggestions?”
Zinto scratched his stubbled chin and scrunched his nose. “I hear Wolbar is wintering in Ny. Just be sure ye hold The Rapier’s sails as surety. I dunnay think he’d trade her for your…” Zinto also paused over the name. Few who frequented the port of Ny were unaware of Saerula’s treachery. “…fine vessel. But ’twould be an uncommon man who’d nay dream of adding her to his fleet.”
Vahn smiled his thanks. “Good thinking, Captain. Now, there’s to be a parade and festivities into the night on my tab, if you’d care to delay…?”
Zinto shook his head sharply. “Ho no. Nay going to tempt Heaven that King Arx’ll change ’is mind. We sail the moment he gets his entourage off the Hamrid.”
Vahn chuckled with a nod. “I don’t blame you. Besides, keeping your men out of the taverns will likely save me a passel of gold.”
Zinto laughed. “Nay doubt there.” He turned to his first mate. “Salty, we ready to head to the docks and see if we cannay help His Majesty disembark?”
“Aye, Captain. I’d lug his trunks m’self, ifn it’d help.”
“Save your back, milord,” Vahn said to Salty. “Arx brought plenty of bootlickers for that. Just smile and bow, and if you’re feeling generous, comment on what a shame it is he shan’t be sailing with you.”
Both Salty and Zinto stared wide-eyed for a moment until they realized the irony. All three men broke into laughter.
