The Kraken King, Part 8 Read online

  “It didn’t,” he agreed.

  She smiled. “Then we know that about each other: We are both unreasonable and ready to ride our doubts all the way to the edge of a cliff when outside worries prod them along. But I still love you—so you don’t have to doubt that.”

  “And I still won’t let you go—so you should never doubt that.”

  A soft tap sounded at the door. With another kiss, he reluctantly released her.

  Mara and Cooper entered, followed by Archimedes Fox. A girl entered, too, carrying a tray, and went about her work. Zenobia pressed tea into his hand. He would have put it aside except for the pleading expression in her eyes. He put his anger and fear aside, instead. They wouldn’t do his people any good. There was still a battle coming; he had to prepare for it.

  Tea in hand, he sat at the edge of the bed, because Zenobia looked so tired, and he knew she would sit with him. Her brother took a seat at the table, but Mara and Cooper stood before him, like soldiers waiting to report.

  “What did you find?” Ariq asked.

  “The general came into Krakentown shortly after Blanchett arrived. The Nipponese fleet showed up at the same time, under the command of Tatsukawa.”

  The back of Ariq’s neck felt like a stone. “Was there fighting? Were there deaths?”

  “No. The way it was told to me, the general simply arrived with his men. He took up residence at your house and his soldiers were quartered in many of the other homes. It was apparently all very polite.”

  A bloodless occupation. But almost everyone in Ariq’s town would know a threat lay behind it. Most of Ariq’s soldiers had taken orders from the general—and they knew what would happen if they put up any resistance.

  So they must be waiting for Ariq. “How many men did he bring?”

  “Almost two hundred by my estimate,” Cooper said.

  Mara nodded. “They patrol the streets and if they see more than three people talking together, the group is broken up. For everyone’s safety, no gatherings are allowed.”

  Of course. The general wouldn’t want the townspeople to conspire and rebel. “And Tatsukawa?”

  “The admiral has established a blockade in the water,” Mara said. “The fleet’s airships are positioned around the town to intercept anyone coming in.”

  “Around the town?” Ariq looked at her sharply. “Even in the east, beyond the town’s boundaries?”

  “Yes.”

  That was Wajarri territory. Fools. Hope clutched in Ariq’s chest, but he put that aside, too. It would serve his town no better than anger would.

  Mara continued, “When we first arrived, our hired airship was ordered to turn away—until we said we were coming at Ariq Noyan’s behest. Then we were invited in, but they sent the airship away again. Ghazan Bator questioned our purpose, then told us that we couldn’t leave. He said you would come when we didn’t return.”

  In the chair beside the bed, Zenobia frowned. “But why not send you back? You could make sure Ariq came when you told him what was happening.”

  Ariq answered her. “Because Mara and Cooper would tell me what they’re telling me now—the number of soldiers and ships, where they are positioned, how they’ve been deployed.”

  That information wasn’t much of an advantage, though. The general had trained him and would know the tactics Ariq might use. So what wouldn’t Ghazan Bator expect?

  “Does it even matter now?” Zenobia asked. “Why not go into Krakentown and tell the general that the Nipponese empress has the machine? It’s not yours to give anymore. It’s over.”

  It wasn’t over. “Lady Nagamochi is probably on her way to my town now—or will be soon, if she’s heard of our escape.”

  The same device that had allowed the empress to speak through the automaton in the quarantine tower might allow Lady Nagamochi to stay in communication with the palace. If the captain of the imperial guard had that device on her airship, she would have already heard that Ariq and Zenobia were gone.

  Confusion furrowed Zenobia’s brow. “Why would she come?”

  “Because the tattoo on my back only gave the location where the machine used to be.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is it under Krakentown?”

  Not directly under. But near enough. Ariq nodded.

  “Ha!” With that burst of laughter, she shook her head. “I knew it! So you sent her to Old Nippon to give us time to escape?”

  A knife seemed to stab through his chest. His wife looked at him with admiration now, but she’d suffered because of his strategy. She hadn’t put that together yet. She would.

  Mara broke in, “None of your townspeople have said where the machine is. I overheard the general questioning Tsetseg and the others. They all said they know nothing of it.”

  Of course they would. Even to the general. “Did he threaten them?”

  “No. He is still waiting for you and intends to use your brother to persuade you to give up the machine.”

  Anger and worry dug in like claws. “Does my brother know?”

  Taka would never allow himself to be used that way. He’d kill himself first—and he might not wait for Ariq to arrive before doing it.

  “I don’t know if he’s aware,” Mara said. “They’ve hidden him away in his chambers and keep him under guard.”

  Then Taka must at least suspect, and Ghazan Bator was making certain that his brother couldn’t destroy the general’s most powerful weapon against Ariq—Taka’s life.

  “How did you escape?”

  “We were quartered in the same residence that we stayed in before with Zenobia and Helene.” Mara glanced back at Archimedes. “He and Captain Corsair found us. We spoke to your soldiers before we left, to see if any wanted to come. They all chose to stay and wait for you, in case they were needed in town. They said to let you know that they won’t fight unless Ghazan Bator or his soldiers begin hurting anyone.”

  Good. Their submission might put Ghazan Bator’s men at ease, so that they could be taken unaware when Ariq’s soldiers did fight.

  “So everyone waits,” Archimedes said. “But what happens when you arrive? Can your machine stand against the fleet?”

  Ariq nodded. One fleet, yes. But his town would still be destroyed in the battle.

  Unless the general’s and the admiral’s carelessness brought their own destruction down on their heads. “Was Meeng still in the town?”

  Cooper shook his head. “They said he slipped out when the general’s men arrived.”

  As expected. The lease agreement between Ariq and the Wajarri had been specific. They would host Ariq’s people and allow them to settle within the town’s boundaries. But the Wajarri would not take part in any skirmishes between outsiders, so Meeng wouldn’t stay and become involved in this one.

  By setting up an airship blockade over Wajarri territory, however, the Nipponese fleet tested those boundaries—and this might not be just a skirmish between outsiders any longer.

  Hope flared again. This time Ariq didn’t put it aside. He looked to Archimedes. “I need to hire your skyrunner and your crew.”

  “Lady Nergüi is not mine.” Archimedes rose to his feet. “You’ll need to speak with the captain.”

  ***

  Captain Corsair—the woman who’d killed Zenobia’s father and inspired the character of Lady Lynx in Zenobia’s serial adventures. When he’d read her story, Ariq had suspected that Zenobia had exaggerated her sister-in-law’s abilities. But given what he’d seen of Captain Corsair when she’d helped rescue them from the quarantine tower, now he believed that Zenobia might have downplayed the woman’s skills, instead—probably to make the fiction more believable.

  Leaving their cabin, Ariq followed Zenobia and Mara along the narrow corridor toward the ladder that led to the upper decks. Zenobia’s brown hair had been pinned into a messy coil at her nape. Like his
shirt, her dress must have been borrowed; the sleeves were too short and her ankles peeked from beneath the hem. Neither of them had shoes.

  But clothes weren’t all that she’d lost. Ariq had left nothing he cared about behind in the quarantine. His wife had.

  “You lost another manuscript,” he said softly. The first one burned by Ghazan Bator. The second abandoned in their quarters.

  She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Only a few hours’ work. I sent duplicate pages with Helene whenever she visited.”

  “She attempted to visit you again yesterday morning,” Mara told her. “When we first returned from Krakentown, the imperial gunships turned Lady Nergüi away from the quarantine tower. So we flew to the embassy and discovered that Helene and the ambassador had already tried to visit you; it was they who told us you were being held in the tower. She will be glad to know that you’re safe now.”

  “I’ll write to her as soon as possible, then,” Zenobia said. She reached the companionway and hiked up her skirts before climbing the steep stairs. Her pale calves flashed with each quick step, and Ariq followed her up into the bright sun.

  Steam billowed behind the airship in a dense cloud. Cold wind tore at his shirt. In the desert below, the day might have been a warm one, but on the skyrunner’s deck the speed of their flight prickled a chill over his skin. Zenobia wrapped her arms around herself, her dress whipping behind her legs. He caught her close, sharing his warmth as they made their way past to the quarterdeck, where the captain waited behind the pilot’s housing.

  With a cigarillo between her lips and her short aviator’s jacket buckled tight, Captain Corsair gestured for them to join her. By the time they reached the windbreak, one of the crew had come running with a jacket for Zenobia. The captain looked to Ariq as his wife gratefully tugged on the coat.

  “We don’t have an extra your size!” The captain shouted over the roar of the engines and the wind. “Finding that shirt was miracle enough.”

  He didn’t care. “I need to hire your crew!”

  The captain’s grin exposed sharp teeth. Unease tightened the muscles along Ariq’s spine. His gaze rose to the red kerchief tied over her dark braids—and which covered the tips of her ears. But he knew what lay beneath that cloth.

  Tengri help him. No wonder Zenobia had downplayed this woman’s skills. “My lady,” he added in Mongolian.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Prince Ariq.”

  A title that wasn’t truly his. Perhaps she didn’t use hers, either.

  Zenobia looked from his face to Captain Corsair’s. “You recognize her? Have you met before? Please don’t say you were enemies.”

  “No.” Ariq bent his head to her ear so that he didn’t have to shout. Captain Corsair would hear him as well as Mara did, but without a device. “I didn’t realize she is gan tsetseg.”

  “Gan tsetseg?”

  “A flower of steel,” he told her. “Like my uncle’s guard, Nasrin. A woman of loyalty and strength, altered by the spirit of a lynx, and with a body of mechanical flesh.”

  “I see,” Zenobia said, wearing a wide grin, her emerald eyes bright and triumphant as she looked to the captain.

  Confused, Ariq glanced at the other woman. Her narrowed gaze steadily held Zenobia’s, but her dangerous expression had taken on an edge of dismay.

  Suddenly laughing, Zenobia tugged him down to speak into his ear. “I pay twenty-five percent of my royalties to her in exchange for details of her travels, but she has been withholding that particular bit of information from me until I raise her portion to fifty percent. And to think, I was so very close to giving in.”

  Another of her negotiations. He had apparently just saved his wife’s money, but by the look in the captain’s eyes, hiring her crew might cost him more now than it would have before he’d undercut her position.

  It didn’t matter. Whatever her price, he would pay it.

  “I am not made of mechanical flesh,” the captain finally said, and blew a long stream of smoke into the air. “And I’m not loyal to anything but the coin I earn. Your uncle is Temür Agha?”

  “Yes,” Ariq said. “My wife told me that you flew him out of Rabat after that city’s revolution—that you left him in Europe, where he is gathering a rebel army from the outposts and marching east.”

  “I did. And we recently saw him again, not far from the Hapsburg Wall.”

  Near the eastern edge of the uninhabited territories of Europe. Soon his uncle would be marching through the empire itself.

  “Is that what you wish to hire me for?” the captain asked. “A ride to the Hapsburg Wall?”

  Ariq shook his head. “I need to speak to the Wajarri.”

  The captain looked at him blankly before glancing at Zenobia.

  “The native tribe that is host to Krakentown,” his wife said.

  Captain Corsair nodded. “Where are they?”

  “Almost two hundred miles east of my town.” Meeng would have gone to consult with the council. “You have a map?”

  “No good one depicting that area,” she said. “Can you navigate for us when we’re closer?”

  “Yes.” Ariq hadn’t been to that city before, but he knew where it was. He would need more from her than transportation, though. “When we arrive, can you provide a meal?”

  Her brows rose. “For how many?”

  Ariq didn’t know. “As many as possible.”

  “So you intend to entice them into joining your war with lamb and rice?” Her sharp grin appeared again. “I’ll tell Cook. He’ll have something for you.”

  “And the price?”

  She glanced at Zenobia. “We’ll discuss it later.”

  “When I am not here to talk your price down,” his wife said.

  “That is exactly why,” her sister-in-law replied easily before looking to Ariq again. “Both food and the distance we must travel will take several hours. Until then, I suggest that you continue to rest and heal.”

  “I have slept enough,” Ariq said.

  “But your wife has not slept at all,” she countered. “And I do not think she will without you.”

  It was decided, then.

  Chapter Thirty

  Zenobia hadn’t thought she would be able to sleep, but within minutes after lying down next to Ariq she slipped away. She woke later to the powerful thrum of the airship’s engines and found Ariq propped up on his elbow, watching her. Hunger burned in his eyes—and although only hours before she’d never been so tired, now she’d never felt more alive. God, when she thought of all that they’d survived—

  No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t think of that. Instead she surged up and kissed him, feeding the hunger until need was a sharp blade, but it was the tap at the cabin door that made her want to scream.

  Still, she would have ignored it—until Mara called through the door that Lady Nergüi was approaching Wajarri territory. So instead of ignoring the knock, she lay groaning pitifully in bed while Ariq dressed. He laughed at her, then kissed her again before leaving the stateroom. She readied more slowly and finally climbed to the upper decks.

  Ariq stood near the bow—perhaps searching the territory ahead for landmarks. Zenobia stopped at the top of the companionway and simply watched him.

  The white shirt looked odd on his big frame. So thin and flimsy, it provided no resistance against the wind. His tunics were more structured, seemed more contained.

  More like Ariq.

  Already he moved more easily than he had after waking earlier. Even the lingering bruises had faded almost to nothing, leaving only those shallow furrows beneath his skin. He healed extraordinarily fast. She should have remembered how fast. When he’d first rescued her from the marauders, he’d been shot in the arm—but within a few days, she’d seen him walking naked out of the sea, and not even a mark had remained.

  She had
n’t even thought of the bullet wound then, too distracted by all of the skin and muscle on display before her. Now, even though they were covered by the flimsy shirt, she couldn’t stop seeing the beetles burrowing beneath his skin and the crossbow bolts that had slammed into his back when he’d used his body as her shield.

  And she could see his worry now. He hadn’t spoken of it. Like his wounds, if she hadn’t known what to look for she might not have seen the traces of it. But she recognized the stillness in him, the tension.

  She’d felt the same as she’d waited through the night in the quarantine while he’d “negotiated” with Lady Nagamochi. Helpless anxiety had been a cruel monster in her chest while she’d waited for him, wondering what was happening. Yet the reality had been more horrifying than anything she’d imagined.

  She thought Ariq must be feeling the same now—wondering what was happening in his town, fearing the reality might be worse than he knew.

  Unless he’d put the fear aside, just as he could put his anger and frustration aside. Zenobia had never been able to—except when she was writing.

  She wished she had her notebook now. Snagging a pair of goggles from the store near the ladder, she joined him at the bow.

  They weren’t far from Krakentown—only a few hundred miles east—and so she had expected the same flat, arid scrublands surrounding that town. Though there were patches of similar brush and red dirt, this land was far more rugged. An irregular monolith lay to the north, and the landscape rose and fell into crags and ridges. Green trees grew in clumps along a swollen river the color of rust.

  “Is that the same river that runs through your town?” The river that dried up every year, until the rains came again.

  “No. Though this river feeds into that one.”

  And the Wajarri apparently used it to irrigate the land. There was no familiar patchwork of fields, yet signs of cultivation began to appear in circles of turned earth, though she didn’t see any plantings.