The navigator, p.27
The Navigator, page 27
Neither Quill nor Petal could see anything over the craft's walls. The vessel was a captured Delphic assault boat made for amphibious landings. Its high walls and thick drop-door were meant to protect its occupants from incoming machine gun fire.
Lhan was the only passenger tall enough to see the beach. Quill noticed that every time he peeked over the door, his face seemed to grow pale and his hands shook. She really didn't want to know what he could see. She clung fast to Petal.
Petal was stone cold. Her heartbeat flat and even. She stared up at Quill and then down at the flat bottom of the boat. The jarring waves and splashes of blood-tinged spray had no effect on her.
"We're here." One of the Syracusian soldiers piloting the boat smacked a button on the front of the landing craft. A spoked wheel next to the button began to spin around rapidly. A second later, the front drop-door of the craft plunged down into the sea. Once it hit the water, it sent up a high splash of red and gray foam.
Quill peered out of the craft at Syracuse's bloody shoreline.
The coast was still about ten feet away from the boat, which had beached itself on a thin sandbar. The sandy shore was veiled by a thick fog of gun smoke, through which she could see nothing. Between the beach and the landing craft were several feet of blood-red seawater.
Atalai made his way down to the edge of the lowered drop-door. The bodies of two dead Delphic marines floated in the surf.
"Is this a joke?" He turned back to the two Syracusian soldiers.
"What? The beach is only a few feet away. Afraid to get your feet wet?"
Blood swirled in the sea like a thick stew.
"This is an insult. This is no way to treat the Khan's daughter."
"This is the only safe way onto Syracuse. Delos's navy destroyed our docks last night and placed mines all around the palace harbor."
Quill recoiled from the stench of death. She reached for Lhan's quivering hand.
Lhan felt Quill's fingers brush against his palm and pulled his hand away. He and Atalai hopped down into the shallow sea. The water was knee high and warm from all of the spilled blood. It felt syrupy.
Dozens of other bodies lay facedown in the sand. Their heads and limbs twitched, animated like string-puppets by the tide.
"Let's go." Atalai waved for the girls to follow. "Do you want me to carry you over this, Petal?"
Petal waded into the bloody water. It stained her legs. She glanced down at one of the dead marines who was resting next to the landing craft. Half of his face was buried in the red-streaked sand, but the other half seemed to be staring at her. She gazed into the dead marine's single, soulless eye, transfixed. It looked as black as space, an endless void she quickly became lost inside of.
Quill was last to leave the landing craft. She gagged as she shuffled through the foul water.
Syracuse's shores were an eerie graveyard. The haze of gun smoke from the battle obscured everything more than a foot or two away. That smoke swirled and crept across the blood-soaked sand like a stalking phantom. Occasionally, gunfire crackled off in the distance. The omnipresent smoke obscured its origin. Wounded marines were still wailing on the beach, somewhere unseen. The air felt chilly. The smell of death and gun smoke was overpowering.
Petal walked blindly through the gray battle haze, following on the heels of Atalai. When she walked a little to the right of him, the edge of her boot struck something.
"Ooooh."
She heard a groan through the smoke. She and Atalai froze.
Petal had stepped on the hand of a wounded Delos marine. He was lying on the beach, right hand pressed against his belly. Blood trickled down his uniform. He tried to hold closed a gaping hole in his abdomen.
"Help me," he mouthed the words to Petal.
Atalai pushed Petal away from the mangled marine. He knelt down next to him and looked the wounds over.
Quill scanned the haze in front of them. Beyond a line of low sand dunes, she could see a shadow approaching.
"Hello?"
She tensed up when she heard the cock of a rifle.
"Who's there?" The shadow loomed closer, assault rifle raised and ready to fire. The smoke between him and Quill dissipated and he came clearly into view. He was a young man who looked like a walking skeleton. His eyes were dead and vacuous. His khaki uniform was covered with wet sand and blood spatter.
"Don't point that at them!" Atalai shot to his feet. "We are ambassadors of Khan Rho. We are here to see King Hanno."
The jittery solider slowly lowered his weapon. He walked up to Atalai.
"You know this man?" The Syracusian solider pointed at the wounded marine.
"No, but you should get someone to treat him. He's bleeding to death and his wounds are very painful."
The soldier lowered his rifle to the marine's face and fired.
"What the fuck!" Quill clutched Petal in a tight hug.
The solider shouldered his rifle. "We have enough of our own wounded. This way. I will take you to the Captain of the Guard."
The solider stepped over the now dead marine and swiftly walked up the beach. The gun smoke haze parted around him.
Quill and the others followed.
The group walked across the beach, passing several more bodies. Most of them were dead, but a few were still alive, just badly wounded. The Syracusian escort ignored the wounded men. He continued to wave the visitors over toward the rubble pile that lay just in front of the fallen outer wall of King Hanno's palace.
On either side of the fallen wall were heaps of dead marines. A group of Syracusian soldiers were piling the bodies onto two funeral pyres. Thick, black smoke billowed up from the flames. This ashy smoke sank down onto the beach, and blew directly into the faces of the new arrivals.
Between the funeral pyres, at the center of the fallen wall, stood a very tall, bald man. He wore a blue uniform, unlike all the other khaki-clad Syracusian soldiers. He seemed to be directing the others as they combed the grisly beach and stacked up the dead and wounded.
The bald man hopped down from his perch. Atalai approached him.
"You are the nomads?"
"I am first officer Atalai of the Southern Sand Tigers." He extended his hand for a handshake.
"I'm Ptolem, Captain of the Guard." Ptolem made no attempt to shake his hand. "Welcome to Syracuse."
"A very nice reception you have given the Khan's daughter."
Ptolem looked past Atalai, at the bloody beach. Seagulls were hopping up and down the sand dunes. Their beaks were red, stuffed with human skin and dripping with gore. They looked like harpies.
"My men were in charge of the decorations. We rolled out the red carpet for you, lit a little incense." Ptolem motioned to the funeral pyres. "What more could a princess ask for?"
Lhan held his nose at the stench of the burning bodies. "It was disgusting."
"Well, perhaps those with weak stomachs should have stayed at home. Syracuse favors the strong, and the bold." Ptolem locked eyes with Petal. "You are Khan Rho's daughter?"
Petal nodded.
"Are you mute?"
"No."
Ptolem pointed to Quill. "And who is this woman? Your handmaid?"
Petal silently giggled.
"No. I'm not her servant," Quill sniffed, indignant. "My name's Quill."
"Why are you here? You and the blond don't look like nomads."
"We aren't. We're chaperoning Petal."
"Chaperoning? What does that mean? Do you have a reason for being here?"
"She and the man are Petal's attendants," Atalai cut in. "You were showing us to the King?"
A wave of black smoke from the flaming corpse pile veiled Ptolem for a moment.
"Of course. Right this way, princess." Ptolem began to turn around and almost tripped over a stray dead body. "And mind the step."
Quill and the others followed Ptolem through the hole in the palace's outer wall. On the other side was a small courtyard. Pressed up against its cold stone walls were stockades, gallows, and little steel cages. All of the stockades were full of miserable prisoners. Their arms and heads were locked into the devices so they could do nothing but flex their muscles and moan in agony.
Three bodies dangled from the gallows next to the stocks. One still had some life in it, as it was twitching wildly in the air. The other bodies hung inches off the ground, stiff and lifeless. Beyond the gallows were several dark, wood and steel cages. The only thing visible inside them were the shifting eyes of their captives.
At one time, this horrible courtyard had been a garden planted with vegetables and peach trees. That foliage had been trampled from the chaos of war and replaced with a carpet of bone-colored gravel. The gun smoke haze from the beach was in the courtyard as well. It made everything look shaded and foggy.
Quill tried to avoid looking at the cages but couldn't. She saw a girl her age inside one of them. Her cage had a little sign dangling from the bars that read 'thief.' She looked like she hadn't eaten in weeks. Her body was almost a skeleton. Her eyes were little yellow orbs that darted around like a wild animal's.
Petal's attention was drawn to the stocks. The men and women who were confined to the torture devices stared up at her in silence. Syracusian soldiers were standing guard behind them, armed with cat-of-nine-tails.
"Please help us!" An old man sobbed from the stocks. "Nomads! Help us! Please!"
A guard walked up behind the old man with whip in hand and thrashed his back savagely.
"What are we doing here? Why did he lead us here? Are they going to torture us?" Quill whispered into Lhan's ear.
"You tell me. You wanted to come here."
Petal trudged up behind Ptolem.
"What is this place?"
"This is the punishment courtyard. It was built for those disloyal to the King."
"And you have led us here, why?" Atalai shadowed them.
"I was going to take you in through the front entrance, but since Delos was kind enough to create a backdoor to the palace, I thought we'd take the shortcut. This isn't part of the regular tour, but perhaps we should add it. It will help keep our guests on their best behavior."
Petal swallowed her spit. She stuck close to Quill as they cut across the courtyard and into the palace.
In sharp contrast to the courtyard, the interior of King Hanno's palace was elegant. It was a real palace – at least in the way Quill had always imagined one. It had wide, open halls lined with colorful tapestries. Each tapestry was painted with various scenes from popular antediluvian mythology: the brawny hero Amnedom skinning the ferocious Euresian Boar, the insidious King Saitiles tricking the god of death out of his soul-devouring sickle.
Most of the palace had a red and royal blue color scheme. The mosaiced ceiling was studded with rubies and sapphires. Dorian columns lined the ends of each hall. Between them hung drapes of blue silk and shimmering satin.
Quill spent a few moments admiring the palace's baroque stylings, until Ptolem's iron gaze forced her forward.
After winding their way through several hallways, the group arrived in the palace foyer. At the center of it was a long reflective pool full of fresh rain water. Above the pool was a large, rectangular hole in the ceiling. Sunlight poured in through the massive gap, allowing rows upon rows of terracotta-potted plants to flourish and flower inside of the palace.
There were thirty or so people gathered in the foyer. They seemed to be having a cocktail party. Everyone had a glass of wine and was dressed to the nines in Kudu suits and long, silken dresses. Some of their outfits looked unfamiliar to Quill – puffy, turban-like hats and one-piece Yong-style smocks – but all of them looked elegant and refined. The buzz of their conversations echoed across the ceiling.
Petal stared into the room like she was looking at another planet.
The people in the foyer paid no attention to the new arrivals.
Ptolem crossed his arms and leaned against one of the inner columns.
Lhan scanned the massive atrium. A few of the finely dressed ladies milling about giggled at him behind dainty hand-fans.
"What are we supposed to do here?" Petal whispered to Quill.
"Uh. . .mingle?"
"You must be the foreigners." A particularly effusive man stepped away from the crowd and made his way over to the girls. He was dressed in a red and white, frilly Kudu-style suit.
"Yes." Quill glanced back at Atalai, who thus far had always taken the lead, but now seemed out of his element. "Are you King Hanno?"
"Hahaha." The man made a rather insincere laugh, covering his mouth with a hand-fan as he feigned blushing. "No - no. My name is Ansilii. I am a Duke of Syracuse. There are three other Dukes here, as well as two Lords, and five Baronesses." The Duke gestured around the foyer to all the snazzily dressed men and women.
"You're Syracuse's nobility?"
"Yes." Duke Ansilli gave Quill a curt bow. "When Delos attacks, there are very few places for us to take refuge, so we are allowed to weather the storm in King Hanno's palace."
"Thanks for meeting us." Quill bowed in return.
"Don't thank me." The Duke tittered. "I had nothing to do with that. But I do thank you. We haven't had a foreign visitor in quite some time. Syracuse, as a polity, has become a bit of an outcast. I was told you are from the P.R.K.. Tell me, what is new on the Continent? I've heard wild rumors that the war is over and Yong has finally been conquered."
"I haven't been to Hesperia in months. I don't know any news, but I heard that too."
The Duke turned to Atalai. "And you are a nomad, are you not? An officer with the Sand Tigers?"
"Yes."
"Delightful." The Duke plucked a kerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. "I assume you are here to protect the Khan's daughter."
"We all are," Lhan answered.
"You were not mentioned by the King." The Duke winked at Lhan. "But my, you are so. . . stunning. You look like one of the heroes painted across this palace's walls. Maybe Adonis himself. A blond, broad-shouldered stallion."
The Duke's eyes lingered on Lhan's body with palpable longing.
"Yeah." Lhan cringed.
"What's your name?" The Duke batted his eyelashes. His face was powdered with blush, and his eyelids were tinged with mascara.
"Lhan."
"A very strapping name. I shall remember it for quite a while."
Lhan looked away.
Quill smirked at his discomfort.
The Duke turned to Petal. "And you are-"
"The reason they are here."
The Duke spun around. Standing behind him was a tall woman in a long, flowing gown. Her eyes were olive green and her lips were painted dark burgundy. Her jet black hair had been pulled up into an intricate bun, secured with several diamond studs. A large entourage gathered around her.
The Duke darted out of her way. She looked down at Petal.
"You are Petal, the marked child."
"Marked?"
"This." The woman lazily pointed at Petal's tattoo. A row of silver bracelets on her arm clanked together. "You have the mark upon you."
"Who are-"
"Ahem." The Duke cleared his throat. "May I introduce King Hanno's beloved wife - Queen Sanima."
Quill lowered her eyes. "Oh . . . it's an honor to-"
"You're the P.R.K. girl, right?" Sanima grinned.
"Yes. I mean, I'm not a P.R.K. citizen anymore. They had me exiled."
"You've come here as a spy. You're a P.R.K. mole. Aren't you?"
All of the other conversations in the foyer fell silent.
Quill was too shocked to speak.
"No. I'm-"
"Come now, Hesperian. You're a spy. Aren't you?"
"No!"
"Just a joke." Sanima tut-tutted. "I forgot that Chairman Manheim made it a crime for his people to retain a sense of humor."
The crowd of Syracusian nobles buzzed to life with nervous laughter.
Quill tried to laugh off the joke but was too shaken.
"Don't worry honey. My husband is quite a fan of the P.R.K.. While you're here, you and your companions will be well cared for."
"Thank you," Quill mouthed. Her throat was too dry to make a sound.
