47. Monolith by Moonlight

21st of Nima, Continued

I lay in bed, hoping to put my brain to sleep by learning how the barbarian Roghuari tribes kept themselves alive long enough to establish a territory that once spanned all of northeastern Altyr and Panesia. It was turning out to be much more interesting than I had hoped, mostly because the color-plate of Dazhir the Great, the first Roghuari High Chieftain, bore a freakish resemblance to a certain silver-eyed captain. Enough that I had to wonder if Arramy's military abilities were genetic.

I was idly imagining myself meeting a long-ago barbarian Arramy in the middle of the bloody conquest to unite the northern tribes and conquer the surrounding peoples, when someone knocked at my door. Insistently, and with vigor. 

Realizing what I had been doing, I frowned, and thumped The History of the Roghuari shut, eyeing it askance as I got up and moved to open the door. 

Ydara stood outside, a faded shawl thrown over her cotton night shift, floppy slippers on her feet, her hair swinging in a thick braid down her back. She was also not amused, glaring at me as she marched past my guards and into my new apartment. "NaVarre has sent that Coalition pushda to fetch you," she announced, jaw tight. 

I squinted and made a guess. "Captain Arramy?"

Ydara scowled and gestured stiff-handed in the direction of the front gate. "Yes. He is lurking out there like a monolith. I don't know what business he has with you and NaVarre, but there is a darkness in those eyes that no man should have looking out of him. He wears death like a second skin."

That, I would have to remember, but the time had come. I closed the door and began collecting my things. 

"You don't have to go with him," Ydara said, crossing her arms. "I will tell NaVarre that he needs to find someone else." There was a faint tremble in her fingers where she clutched at her shawl, her knuckles white.

Had Arramy frightened her that much? I could understand being upset because of something the man said, but there was more to her reaction than mere irritation. She was genuinely afraid. For me. Which made me want to hug her. 

"I'll be fine," I said, rapidly exchanging my night shift for the light blouse I had bought on my first, and perhaps only, day off. Then I shimmied into my grey skirt and wrapped my new black woven-cord belt around my waist. A handful of hair pins later, and I had made quick work of coiling my braid up at the nape of my neck. 

Ydara let out a breath and bent to peer under the end of my bed. "Well, I think you are making a mistake, you and NaVarre." She grabbed my new shoes, holding them out to me as she added, "I have known men like that before. They are not to be trusted."

"NaVarre probably just needs me to translate something." I finished pulling my stockings on and gave her a smile. "That's all." I took my shoes from her and pushed my feet into them. 

"You're sure?"

I paused in the middle of tying the ankle ribbons. "Yes, but thank you for caring." 

She gave me a sidelong, mildly disapproving glare, then heaved a sigh on a shrug and a lift of her hands. "Well, I'll be here if you ever need help." She held out my father's satchel as I stood up. "You can talk to me. About anything." 

To my surprise she didn't just hand me my bag, she kept going and wrapped me in a firm embrace. "We take care of each other, here." She pulled back to look me in the eyes, her hands on my shoulders. "You aren't alone. Remember that?" 

"Thank you," I smiled a little. "I will." 

She regarded me for a moment more, then nodded and crossed the room to open the door, waiting as I made sure I had everything. 

I did, so I left. No questions, no dilly-dallying, I just picked up and walked away on NaVarre's say-so. I couldn't tell Ydara that there were things I would never be able to talk to her about. It felt good to have someone care what happened to me, so I let her escort me past her personal apartment and around the corner to the gate. She walked with me arm in arm the whole way like some sort of bristling, guardian fyrropyxxe. I imagined that was what it might have felt like to have an older sister. Someone in my corner no matter what.

A tall figure in a long grey cloak stood in the shadows on the other side of the gate. His face was mostly hidden by a hood, but it was definitely the captain. I would have known that immovable stance anywhere. 

Ydara scowled at Arramy as if he might come barging in to ravage everyone. She unlocked the gate, rotating the key until the lockbolts slid into their slots, but she stayed where she was, deliberately standing in the way and holding the gate shut. "You listen to me," she growled through the bars. "If I hear that anything... any thing... has happened to this sweet girl, I will hunt you down and they will never find your body."

Arramy was still as a stone, but then he nodded. Once.

I had to hide a smirk, wishing I could see his face, but I really did need to go. NaVarre had obviously received word from his man in Nimkoruguithu. I gave Ydara's hand a parting squeeze, then eased the gate open and slipped through. 

Arramy didn't say anything. He simply headed for a flatbed gopher idling in the road and held the door to the cab open for me. 

I climbed up and scooted across the padded seat to make room as he got in. He glanced at me, jaw tight, then looked forward again as he released the gopher's flywheel and pulled the ancient vehicle away from the Dormitory. 

We rumbled down the hill toward the docks, and I settled into the worn leather upholstery, hugged my father's satchel. My heart was beating a rapid tattoo in my chest, that weird, empty feeling swarming in the pit of my stomach. I was back on the tilt-a-ball again. 

I think I knew even then, before I walked into NaVarre's office. I still hoped, though. Maybe it would be a simple thing they needed, and I wouldn't have to leave this new life behind. Maybe all I would have to do was translate something. It was possible. 

A small, quiet voice said it could never be that easy. 

~~~

One thing was blatantly clear: Arramy didn't want me to be a part of any of this. He maintained that from the very first second we arrived, when he strode in behind me snarling, "This is insane."

NaVarre didn't look up from his rum. "So you've said."

I walked over to the table, but my attention was still snagged on Arramy, who had gone straight to the sideboard, where he poured himself a large tumbler of brandy. 

"Did your agent find the binder?" I asked, easing into the seat across from NaVarre. 

"No. He didn't." Arramy turned around to face us, then leaned against the sideboard instead of coming to sit down like a civilized person. 

"He means yes," NaVarre said, voice dull. 

"Fine. He found out they have physical descriptions of you in the Magistrate's Bureau," Arramy amended. "You're billed as an escaped detainee at large. Oh, and you're to be taken dead or alive." That last came with a mirthless grin. 

NaVarre shot a flat glare at the captain. 

Arramy gestured with his glass. "But more importantly, if they're posting rewards for you, then the Coventry has figured out you're alive, and they're hunting for you in Nim K. Which means we're officially out of time." 

"Almost out of time," NaVarre muttered.

"Nai, I'd say completely." A muscle in Arramy's jaw ticked. "What will make it officially too late? Her capture?" 

"That's a risk, yes, but I don't think they know where she is yet. Her description is probably posted abroad as a precaution, and I doubt the Nim K Magis will be as big of a problem as you think. I've got more than half of them in my pocket."

Arramy paused to give NaVarre a frigid once-over. "We don't know how much they know. What if they do know where to look and you're sending her in there purely on the assumption that your enemy is a fool? Are you willing to bet her life on that?" 

This had clearly been a heated argument before I arrived. "Send me in?" I asked quietly, breaking the prickly silence. I had expected to go along to help solve a riddle, perhaps. Being 'sent in' sounded much more active. 

NaVarre took a breath and let it out. He was weary and a little disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through his hair several times in the last hour. "My source found a sylvograph of you behind the bar in the pub. It's from your father to the pub owner." He didn't meet my eyes as he offered his conclusion: "The pub owner is expecting you... and only you." 

Ah. I sat forward a little. "What would I have to do, exactly?"

NaVarre shrugged. "My guess, all you have to do is be you, and ask for butter cones." 

"You know it's not that simple," Arramy said from behind the rim of his tumbler. "Every time she shows her face, the chances go up they'll notice." 

"Well, hopefully, this will be the last time she has to show her face," NaVarre snapped. 

I fiddled with my necklace, running the pendant up and down the chain. "And you're sure this is the only way?" 

NaVarre sighed. "No, but finding another will take too long or attract too much attention, and... the captain is right. We're running out of time. If we had been able to go straight to Nim K instead of stopping here, it would have been a different story. Your father certainly wasn't planning on that storm... The owner isn't keeping the binder in the pub or at his home, and it didn't seem to matter how many butter cones my man ordered, he never got anything but a bill. It has to be you, and it has to be now. If this doesn't work, I'll have to resort to other, messier means, and I doubt your father would have wanted that." 

"No. He wouldn't." I ran my pendant up the chain again, a deep weariness settling into my bones. But... Maybe this would be the end. Maybe I could do this one thing, and then come back to the Island. NaVarre would have his third binder, the Coventry would be ruined, everyone would be safe. 

That thought dangled in front of me like a low-hanging orange, far too tempting to ignore. I studied my necklace. Then I nodded. "I'll do it." 

Arramy grunted under his breath, displeasure plain in every line of his body. He poured another tumbler of brandy, yanked out the chair at the far end of the table, and sat down, long limbs asprawl. 

NaVarre inclined his head to me. "Thank you. Now. If you're ready and packed, we're leaving on the morning tide."

 

~~~

Pushda: (push-dah) Ronyran name for a large poisonous reptile known to hunt humans. Also, a derogatory term for a person of northern Altyran mountain descent. This goes back centuries, to when mountain tribes regularly came south to raid Ronyran border villages.