Lord Tuun straightened. “I see.”
“Don’t you worry, neither,” Keol said, making a settling gesture the way you might to a worried child. “I’ll get you all there safely. And the others.” He pointed with his chin to take in the other two ships that ran beside them, one port and the other starboard. They were far enough away to avoid getting caught in their trailing wake but close enough to hail with a collection of symbol-marked pennants Balam had spotted near the stern. One ship ran heavy, weighed down with enough gold and jade and quetzal feathers to impress even the most spoiled Sovran. Each merchant lord’s house had contributed to the bounty, even the ones who had chosen to remain in Cuecola. This diplomatic mission was, after all, a joint effort supported by all the ruling houses. The other ship held his cousin Powageh and a contingent of personal guards and household servants for each lord. Powageh had wanted to travel with Balam and the other lords, but Pech had argued that one more might overturn the ship, and Sinik had said something about protocol, and Balam had not even had to discuss it with Powageh before his cousin simply muttered, “You owe me for this,” and retired with the servants. Balam almost envied xir. At least, Powageh did not have to hear Pech drone on about water safety.
“There’s shade and refreshments under the awning, and strong men to paddle us on,” the captain was saying. “I know this route well, and there’s land by sunset. Until then…” A beleaguered smile creased his sun-wrinkled face, and the lords shuffled toward the awning, as instructed.
Perhaps we are like children to him, Balam thought, and the idea so amused him that he chuckled quietly to himself.
Tuun bumped against his shoulder. She motioned him back toward the bow out of earshot. She was tall, a match to his height, with a long, sloping forehead and pale eyebrows against rich, soil-dark skin. Jade clinked softly at her wrists and ankles, and she wore a deep green dress that cut low at the neck and belted below her breasts. Not exactly seafaring attire, but who was he to argue? He wore his formal jaguar whites.
“Does Pech ever shut up?” Tuun complained, as he joined her on a bench at the bow of the ship. “How you failed to convince him to stay behind…”
“He came to spite me, I’m sure of it.”
“What did you do that would make that fool risk it all on the Crescent Sea?”
“He thinks I’m plotting.”
“Well, he’s right about that.”
He laughed. How could he not?
She pressed a tattooed hand adorned with rings to her stomach, her mouth twisting in discomfort.
“Seasickness?”
“Nothing I cannot manage, but I admit I am not wont to take up sea voyaging as a pastime anytime soon.”
“A shame. You would make a splendid pirate.”
She laughed, showing a top row of teeth implanted with tiny, rounded pieces of jade, turquoise, and pink coral. “Why, Balam, are you flirting with me?”
“Would it help my cause if I did?”
She studied him, her slate eyes tilted in speculation. “You’re a handsome man,” she admitted. “And wealthy.”
“Exceedingly wealthy.”
“Alas, so am I. And I’ve never felt the need for a husband before. I don’t expect that to change now.”
“Ah,” he said. “I assure you I am not in need of a wife. I was hoping you would consider a much more promising proposal.”
“House Balam and House Tuun as allies?” She shrugged. “Perhaps. Although I have yet to understand why I should support you in this war you seek. The last time Cuecola warred, the Sorcerer Prince himself fell. You think you can avoid the same fate if you rule the city alone?”
His face showed surprise.
“Did you not think I knew of your aspirations?”
“I have tried to be discreet.”
“And you have been. I doubt Pech or Sinik or any of the other lords suspect your warmongering is for anything less mundane than lower taxes and more power over the Meridian trade routes. But I am a sorceress by birthright, and I know these things.”
“Because they are your aspirations, too?”
She lifted a shoulder noncommittally. She turned her head, the bright sunlight catching the subtle sheen of gold powder rubbed into the smooth skin at her neck. “We’ll be sleeping on Teek soil tonight,” she observed, her eyes fixed on distant islands that they could not yet see. “I can feel it as we grow closer.”
“The Teek?”
“Their land. It is ancient, their islands the refuse of old volcanoes.”
Balam followed her gaze but saw nothing but endless sea. “I thought the isles of the Crescent Sea were formed by coral reefs.”
“Some of the outliers, but these…” Her expressive shoulders shivered. “I feel them in my bones. Still alive, always growing.”
“The land is made from the remnants of your ancestral gods,” he said, understanding.
“Angry gods that belch fire and sulfur.”
“The stone gods of your house namesake.”
She turned to face him, her eyes glittering under pale brows. “I want them, Balam. Legend says they were once my family’s territory, made from the spine of the great stone serpent god. I want them back.”
“But these islands are already populated,” he observed dryly, “by a people who are quite fond of them, as I understand it.”
“That is my price for your alliance. We both know the Teek fell to the spearmaidens before, and what is left of them can fall again. I simply want them to fall to me.” She smiled, all viper. “To us.”
He held his tongue and kept his face entirely blank.
“You have ten days until we reach Hokaia to decide,” she said. “It is likely that the Teek will not answer the summons of the Treaty, and you only need to convince Hokaia and Golden Eagle to hand the islands over to me.”
He raised a doubting eyebrow. “You would still need an army at your back to enforce such a declaration.”
“Perhaps. Although a cadre of sorcerers may serve just as well if the Teek are as few in number as I suspect. Who knows? They may welcome a new queen.”
He laughed, thinking of the Teek captain he had hired. “I would not count on that. They are stubborn creatures.”
“Then I will bend them until they break, and if you want House Tuun beside you, you will help me do it.”
She pressed a long-nailed hand into his shoulder before she excused herself to go back to the awning where the other Cuecolan lords waited.
Balam stayed a bit longer, letting the sun beat down on his head and warm his skin to a richer brown. He searched the horizon for the islands Tuun could feel in her bones, wondering if a civilization of women with sorcery in their Song awaited them just out of sight. Her demand had taken him by surprise, although he had hidden it well. He thought he knew all about House Tuun and their stone gods, but he had failed to associate them with the volcanoes that dotted the eastern side of the Crescent Sea. He was unfamiliar with the legends Lord Tuun had referred to that gave them to her in birthright, and he suspected the Teek had conflicting tales, but he had no interest in sorting out such history. He simply berated himself for not anticipating her. He had known she was as ambitious as he, and he had thought she might demand a district of Cuecola as payment once he ruled the city, or even a neighboring city of her own. Huecha or some such down the coast. But the lands of the Teek? It was a foolish thing to ask.
Then let her die for it, he thought. Once she has used her magic to topple your enemies’ cities. After she serves her purpose, her fate is no concern of yours.
He rubbed at the back of his overwarm neck, which he suspected was beginning to sunburn. He really should go join the other lords under the awning before he overheated. He could see they were eating small plates of seafood and drinking cold cups of thick papaya juice.