Chapter 2: Secrets Spoken and Heard

 

 

GROWING UP IN THE VAST trade city of Lunthea Maly, Munny had seen his fair share of foreigners, from the ghostly pale strangers of Parumvir to the dark-skins of Southlands. His mother had taught him that they were all people, as human as any man or woman to be found in the Noorhitam Empire. For the most part, Munny believed her. She was his mother, after all. Mothers have a way of knowing things.

But his uncle Mokhtar had told him that all foreigners were devils or, at the very least, possessed by devils. “Look at the size of their eyes,” Uncle Mokhtar would say. “See how big they are? That’s because the devils get in that way, leaving them malformed. And you can bet if devils got in, they’re sure to get out as well, quick as lightning! Watch for the devils, boy. Watch for the big eyes.”

Somehow, the more horrible an idea is, the easier it is to believe.

Munny had no trouble whatsoever believing Uncle Mokhtar’s warning as he watched the stowaway dragged kicking and screaming up from lower storage. He babbled at great speed and volume in a language Munny did not know, and his eyes were as large and wide as two black coins, windows through which any number of devils might comfortably pour.

Munny ducked behind the old man who, by contrast, continued to sit as placidly as ever upon his cask, only turning his head slightly to watch the progress of the boatswain and his boys as they hauled the culprit sternward to the Captain’s cabin.

One thing was certain: If the stowaway was devil-possessed, they were not dignified sorts of devils. Indeed, when the brown foreigner flung himself headlong upon the deck, trying to cling to the boards by his fingernails, Munny fought to suppress a nervous giggle.

Chuo-tuk and Saknu grabbed their prey by his ankles and dragged him, scraping and clawing, several paces. Then Bahurn, snarling, took hold of him by his collar and, little caring if he choked to death, heaved him to his feet. Saknu caught him by one arm, Bahurn by the other, and Chuo-tuk followed behind, aiming kicks at the stowaway’s backside as they went.

Bahurn, having twisted the stowaway’s arm to the point of breaking, rendering him temporarily immobile, let go with one hand long enough to knock at the Captain’s door.

“Shall I bring him in, Captain?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a sullen one. Not trustworthy. Shall I bind him?”

“That will not be necessary.”

So the stranger disappeared into the cabin. Munny heard the thud of kicks, the scream of foreign curses, and the growl of Bahurn’s voice. “Stand in the presence of your betters.”

“Hard to stand when being kicked,” the old man muttered, surprising Munny. The boy looked but could not read the wrinkled face beside him. Had he mistaken the sound of compassion? Surely Tu Pich would not feel sorry for a stowaway! Not when he knew what was coming for him.

At a command from the Captain, the boatswain and his boys withdrew, shutting the cabin door. Munny gasped.

“They left him alone! Tu Pich, the Captain is alone with the devil! What will happen?”

“Hush,” said the old man. “Westerners do not understand the ways of the waters beyond Chiara Bay. Perhaps the Captain wishes to inform him of his fate in private. Allow him some pride.”

Munny, considering the display he had just witnessed, did not think the stowaway cared two straws for his pride. But he had no time to question further, for the old man pinched his arm suddenly. “Tu Bahurn wants us.”

Sure enough, Bahurn beckoned violently to the old man and the boy from his place of guard before the Captain’s door. Munny scrambled hastily forward, leaving the old man to creak his way down from his cask and hobble more slowly behind.

“You wanted me?” Munny asked, bowing to the boatswain. Chuo-tuk, standing at his master’s side, smiled smugly as though Munny had bowed to him. The hateful ape. That was one act of subservience Munny flatly refused to grant Chuo-tuk, no matter the kickings.

Grinding his teeth, Munny said, “How may I serve you, Tu Bahurn?”

“Chuo-tuk, take him up to the quarterdeck,” the boatswain said. He spoke quietly, as though afraid to be overheard.

The old man, having now arrived, frowned. “What do you intend, Master Boatswain?”

“Never you mind,” Bahurn snapped. “You go up with the boy and do as Chuo-tuk tells you. Under my order. Quickly now.”

Munny ducked away from Chuo-tuk’s grasp and scurried up the stairway to the quarterdeck on his own. Chuo-tuk, also afraid of being overheard, could not even curse him, but was obliged to follow in his wake, the old man trailing behind last of all. Upon gaining the quarterdeck, however, Chuo-tuk took up a stout rope and said, “Come here, scrub-louse. Tu Bahurn’s orders.”

“What are you doing?” the old man asked, even as he dragged himself up the last few steps.

“I’m not doing anything,” said Chuo-tuk, and handed the rope to the old man. “You are. Secure him well; then we’ll lower him down the side. Tu Bahurn wants to know what the Captain intends, and we can hear nothing through the door.”

“Dragon’s teeth!” Munny squeaked, the words tasting strange in his mouth. His mother had never permitted him to curse by the Dragon; but after many months at sea, Munny couldn’t help picking up a few sailor phrases. He glanced across the quarterdeck to where the quartermaster, Sur Agung, stood with his back pointedly to them, gazing out across the waves. After all, if Munny was caught, it would only be a lowly cabin boy who received the five lashes. Sur Agung couldn’t be held accountable for every misdemeanor among the crew, now could he?

“We’ll learn the Captain’s will soon enough,” the old man protested, though his fingers already flew as they twisted the rope into the shapes he willed. “He will honor the goddess.”

“Tu Bahurn didn’t send you up here to question his orders,” Chuo-tuk said, and folded his arms.

So the old man secured Munny in a hastily-formed harness. He finished it with a special knot of his own, saying quietly, “No fear, my boy. Pich’s Knot has never yet given way. Not when tied by Pich himself.”

Munny nodded, his eyes solemn. Chuo-tuk took him by the shoulder and pushed him to the railing. Looking over, Munny could see the small window on the starboard side: a window to the Captain’s cabin. It was open to the lovely breeze that stroked the Kulap Kanya that day.

Afraid that Chuo-tuk would fling him over if he did not move quickly, Munny scrambled up onto the railing and swung his skinny legs over. Had the sea been rougher, he would have bashed himself rather severely on the seasoned wood of the ship’s hull. As it was, he scraped several knuckles and the top of one foot as they lowered him down to the window. Chuo-tuk and the old man held the rope, looping it several times around the rail for added security.

Even so, Munny did not feel secure. Sometimes, living aboard the Kulap Kanya, he could forget how very near the sea always was, just beneath his feet. Here, however, suspended over the water with nothing but Pich’s Knot to protect him, he felt the presence of the swelling waves like a vast entity, a huge life.

And down below—deep down, beneath the white foam, beneath the reach of the Lordly Sun’s rays, moving alongside the ship but ever in its shadow—lurked Risafeth herself.

Munny shuddered and froze in place, his shoulder pressed against the wooden slats. The window was near, but he must first let that image pass from his mind. If he let it stay, he would not be able to move again.

His lips began to murmur, beyond his will. Words formed, tremulous, stolen away by the swift sea breezes. This did not matter, for Munny heard his mother’s voice in his head, whispering to him as he had heard it many nights when, as he wakened from a nightmare, she came to him and held him close, singing softly to his fears:

 

“Go to sleep, go to sleep,

My good boy, go to sleep.

 

Where did the songbird go?

Beyond the mountains of the sun.

Beyond the gardens of the moon.

Where did the Dara go?

Beyond the Final Water’s waves

To sing before the mighty throne.

 

Go to sleep, go to sleep,

My good boy, go to sleep.”

 

Munny breathed again, and the image of Risafeth swam from his mind and allowed his heart to still. Ignoring the hissed curses of Chuo-tuk above, he lowered himself the last few feet to the window and put his ear as near as he dared.

“Dragons eat it,” he whispered.

For he heard the Captain’s voice, clear and deep, and he heard the devil-ridden stranger answering, nervous and trembling. But they spoke entirely in Westerner!

The only words Munny had learned in the Western tongue were “Hello,” “Good bye,” and “Where is the privy?” He wasn’t entirely certain that these were even correct, for Chuo-tuk had taught him, and Chuo-tuk had a wicked sense of humor. For all Munny knew, he could proudly say his words to a Westerner and end up with his head knocked off. So he’d never dared to try.

Still, he strained his ears to listen in, hoping he might pick up something here and there. But all he heard were names. “Lunthea Maly.” His home city. “Pen-Chan.” The ruling people of Noorhitam.

Then he heard the stowaway speak a name that was very strange. It was a name Munny had heard spoken only a few times in his life, always in hushed whispers.

“Ay-Ibunda.” The Hidden Temple.

Now here was a mystery! What could the brown-skinned foreigner know of the Hidden Temple? And why should he speak of it to the Captain? Munny’s mother had told him never to say the name out loud, and his uncle had grown violent the only time Munny asked him about it. It was a furtive name of secrets and, Munny suspected, evil.

Surely now the Captain would give the order and hand the devil-man over to his fate!

Curious, Munny risked putting tentative fingers to the frame of the window and pulled himself closer to peer inside. He saw the stowaway, looking rather the worse for wear (Beauclair blue-crust did not settle well in a stomach unaccustomed to tossing waves) standing across from the Captain, who sat at his great desk, his arms resting upon the arms of his chair, as rigid as a stone king.

Just then, the Captain stood and crossed his cabin to loom over the foreigner. How great and tall and strong the Captain was, even more so by contrast with the rumpled stowaway.

Suddenly, the Captain’s gaze flickered to the window. Munny gasped and let go his hold, swinging backwards with the movement of the ship and striking his shoulder hard. He started to climb, hand over hand, his skinny legs kicking at the hull, his heart racing. This would mean more than five lashes! Oh, much more indeed!

Would the Captain have him thrown into the sea along with the devil-man?

Galvanized by fear, Munny achieved the railing in moments, and the old man and Chuo-tuk pulled him over and onto the deck. “What did you hear? What did the Captain say?” Chuo-tuk demanded, even as the old man worked to undo the complicated Pich’s Knot.

Munny shook his head. “They spoke Westerner. All Westerner. I didn’t understand.” He could hardly get the words out and could not bear to say that he had been seen. Perhaps if he did not mention it then he could somehow make it so that it hadn’t happened.

“Useless maggot,” Chuo-tuk snarled and hastened down the steps to where the boatswain waited at the Captain’s door.

The old man, to Munny’s surprise, stuck out his tongue at Chuo-tuk’s retreating back. “What did he expect? Foreigners never learn our language. They haven’t the mouths for it, poor fools. There. You’re free.”

The rope harness slid away, and Munny kicked it across the deck and leaped back from it as if it were a snake. A sudden commotion below indicated that the Captain had emerged once more. Munny went white and grabbed the old man’s hand. “Tu Pich, what if—”

“Hush,” said the old man, for even then they heard Bahurn’s voice bellowing from below, “Pich! Pich, come here, and bring the boy.”

“Oh! Oh, dragon’s . . .” Munny gasped, but hadn’t the wits to think of any appropriate draconian anatomy in that moment. Clutching the old man by both hand and arm, he allowed himself to be led to the stair, and they looked down to where the Captain waited below. Beside him stood the stowaway who was, oddly enough, neither bound nor pleading for mercy.

The old man took the steps slowly, and Munny made every pretense of helping him in order to avoid facing his fate any sooner than necessary. But at last they stood before the Captain, and Munny felt the Captain’s gaze like heated brands upon his face.

“How may I serve you?” the old man asked, bowing respectfully as a sailor ought to his master. Munny hastily added a bow of his own, his heart thudding the beat of sacrificial drums.

The Captain addressed himself to the old man, though his eyes never left Munny’s small face. “I have vowed to give safe passage to this man, this Leonard, as he calls himself. In return, he will serve among my crew and earn his keep. I entrust him to you, Pich. Find him some proper clothes and teach him the ways of a seaman’s life. See that no harm comes to him.”

A hush fell upon the Kulap Kanya. Even the ship herself went silent, her sails still, her timbers scarcely daring to creak.

But the thought rang as loud as a shout, echoing through that silence, echoing through every living mind.

The goddess! The tithe! She will demand her tithe!

“Do you hear me, Pich?” the Captain said.

The old man bowed again. “I will do as you command,” he said. He beckoned to the stranger. “Come here, brown boy. Come with me.”

So the devil wouldn’t be cast into the waves. Nor Munny either, apparently. They were spared.

And they were doomed.