He smiled. Not fooled. “I have. But I warn you, if they fall into my possession again, I will not be so generous in their return.”
“It is not only Kintra who is a skilled thief in this room,” said Niya, eyes narrowed. “If they fall into your possession again, you won’t notice when they fall out.”
“Nor will you,” said Kintra to Niya. “You seem to be careless with your belongings, Red. I’d be a much better master of those blades.”
“Care to make that threat more real?” Niya turned to the quartermaster, magic jumping in her gut.
Kintra’s hand slipped to the long knife sheathed to her thigh. “Gladly.”
“All right, you two,” said Alōs, raising a hand. “While the thought of watching you both black and blue one another is amusing, I have far too many valuables more important than either of you in this room to break. If you feel like a fight, do it later, and outside. Now take these”—he pushed the blades toward Niya—“before I change my mind.”
Niya cut Kintra a last narrowed glance before retrieving her knives, slipping the holster around her hips.
She held in the contented sigh at the familiar feel of them.
“One last thing before you can go,” said Alōs.
“Yes?”
He paused for a grain fall. “I wanted to thank you.”
Niya blinked, momentarily blindsided. “For . . . what?”
“Helping as you did in the storm. I saw you guide the bow.”
Niya didn’t know how to respond, to feel, so unaccustomed to genuine compliments from this man. “Yes, well, as promised. I give my full aid.”
“Yes,” said Alōs, holding her gaze. “As promised.”
Niya shifted her weight. She did not like him like this, she realized.
Nice.
She needed Alōs to remain mean, cold, loathsome.
All the easier to keep her wall of hate, of revenge, fortified and standing tall.
He used me, she reminded herself, again and again. And blackmailed my family. He’s using me now.
Just as you used him, a small voice echoed in her mind.
“Is that all, Captain?” she asked.
Hearing the use of his mastering title over her, without mockery or sarcasm, something in his eyes sparked. Another reminder of their momentary truce in place.
“Yes, pirate,” said Alōs. “That will be all. For now.”
The people of the Valley of Giants revealed themselves like flowers in bloom. There were few at the start, popping up behind rocks on the canyon’s rim, standing sentry at the edge, until they gathered along the beach at the end of the river near where the Crying Queen anchored.
They wore hooded robes, dyed shades of burnt orange, which camouflaged them into the sandstone surroundings. Bows and arrows were poised at the ready, blades and spear tips reflecting the sun’s light.
Kintra ordered the pirates to load trunks pulled from the bowels of the ship onto boats before the forty-odd crew members rowed to shore.
The two groups stood along the bank, each eyeing the other with distrust, a tension added to the thick, hot air.
Alōs stepped forward, throwing his sword to the sand, followed by a hidden blade in his boot.
Niya looked to the pirates around her as they did the same.
She sighed. Of course, right when I get my knives back.
“It’s for show,” whispered Saffi beside her, noticing her hesitation. “We’ll pick them all back up in a grain fall. You’ll see.”
Niya turned back to watch a tall woman step out from among the people of the valley. She had black skin and a shaved head save for a single strip of hair and two ears lined with gold rings.
Niya instantly glanced to Kintra, who stood slightly behind Alōs, her styling so similar. The quartermaster’s shoulders appeared stiff, and Niya could sense her tight energy. She knew Kintra was from Shanjaree, another western city, but perhaps it was closer to the Valley of Giants than she’d originally thought.
Alōs greeted the woman. “Paxala,” he said. Peace this day. “My crew and I have sailed for many days. We come for rest and to see the wonders of the Valley of Giants for ourselves. Nothing more.”
The woman angled her head to the side, eyes narrowed, in a trickle of tense silence, before she broke out in a wide grin. “Alōs Ezra,” she said, clasping hands with their captain as though they were old friends. “Your entourage has grown, and so have you.”
He smiled in kind, nodding to the soldiers behind her. “The same could be said about you, Alessia.”
“Your lot are not the only scoundrels who have dared the western storms these past years. Our army has doubled.”
“Really?” inquired Alōs with raised brows. “I see there is much to catch up on.”
“Which we shall,” said Alessia. “But first, come. I shall take you to our queen.”
The beach became alive with movement. Niya was thrown her knives by Saffi as the master gunner bent to retrieve her own blades. Kintra yelled to the pirates to pair up and haul the trunks as they marched in a line, following the people of the valley into the thick, dry brush.
On their journey Niya quickly learned two things about this land. One: the heat was intolerable and the insects unnaturally large. Two: it was wild. Their current path had been made by years of trekking over the same area rather than being paved.
It was a grueling hike through brush and rock, full of sore feet and labored breaths. None of the valley people talked with the pirates or vice versa. Despite the pirate captain and the commander seeming to know each other, it remained a game of sizing up, of watchful eyes and skeptical brows.
By the time their group reached the carved city situated along a high plateau, Niya was covered in sweat. Leaning against a boulder, she wiped her forehead and took in the splendor before her.
A multitude of soaring columns of sandstone rose to the sky. Cathedrals of rock carved to make homes in the sides, ladders and roped bridges connecting them together. As their procession continued on, twisting through the streets, the citizens came out to stand in doorways, stopping their purchases among vender stalls, all to watch them pass. They wore finely beaded and embroidered wrap dresses, trousers, and tunics. All dyed a variety of reds, oranges, blues, and greens. Their skin was a variety of shades, from dark to the palest white, all accented in swirls of gold paint and piercings, as if celebrating the glimmering hue of the land they were born from.
A fair-skinned girl hid behind her mother’s legs, staring up at Niya as she walked past where the pair appeared to have stopped to collect water from a spigot. She probably was no older than six, but half her right ear was already covered in piercings. Niya smiled at the girl, and she ducked farther away.
This city was as sprawling as it was tall, a tangling mix of dwellings built beside or on top of shops. Eventually they entered a wide main thruway, which led to a rising stone monolith at the end. At the base were stairs that went up, up, up, up, up. Niya craned her head back to take in a massive palace at the very top, carved out of the rock’s face.
Twirling columns supported an intricately carved roof in half relief, where the sun glistened over the sandstone, making it appear as though thousands of diamonds were embedded in its surface.
“We’re to go up there?” Niya all but whined. “There must be two thousand steps.”
“I’d rather sail through the Mocking Mist without my ear wax,” grumbled Boman beside her, dabbing at the sweat along his neck. It was a useless gesture, given his entire shirt was soaked through.
“Come on, you old cows”—Saffi nudged them both—“or do you want me to tell Kintra you’ve volunteered to carry one of the trunks the rest of the way?”
Niya’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Saffi merely smiled, inching to where Kintra stood at the front of their procession, beside where Alōs was talking with Alessia. The two were engaged in an amusing story, while Kintra remained stone faced, glancing to their surroundings with tense shoulders.