Enigma

Tikaya nodded vigorously when the sergeant glanced at her. Rias was watching all, though he said nothing, and his face was impossible to read. Zirabo and the sergeant were using the Nurian version of Rias’s name, which translated to “Enemy Chief Fox,” and the captain and mate still didn’t seem to have a clue as to what was going on.

The sergeant lowered his voice. “Starcrest would be a great prize, Prince Zirabo. Perhaps your father would forgive you for your errors in judgment and the trouble you’ve caused if you brought this man home in chains.”

No, bad idea, Tikaya thought, concerned that the boy would find the offer tempting. What twelve year old wouldn’t want to avoid punishment?

Indeed Zirabo touched his chin and his eyes grew speculative. But, after a silent moment, he dropped his hand and squared his shoulders. “He saved my life. We will leave him.”

Tikaya would have been proud of the youth, but she was busy watching the sergeant and his men, waiting to see if they’d override the prince’s orders. No adult on the Kyatt Islands would have let a child dictate in such an important moment.

The sergeant scratched his jaw. “You’ve grown up these last couple of weeks, my prince.”

“Stupidity, or perhaps surviving stupidity, teaches one a few things,” Zirabo said.

“Well said, my prince. If you’ll come with us, we’d best retreat from these waters before our presence instigates a new war.”

Zirabo winced, perhaps thinking that it would be his fault if that happened. “Of course, sergeant.”

The youth jogged to Tikaya and Rias. “I apologize, but I must have the flute back. I will have money sent to compensate the captain for my passage-and the holes in his ship-though I dare think he worked me hard enough to cover the repairs.”

“Perhaps so.” Tikaya handed the flute to him, wondering if he was old enough to have carved it himself or if it belonged to some older brother or cousin.

“A life for a life,” Zirabo told Rias with a solemn nod.

“Understood,” Rias responded.

With the flute in hand, Zirabo trotted to the boarding ramp. The Nurians waited for him to climb across and disappear onto a galleon before retreating. As soon as no weapons were trained on his chest, the captain bellowed, “Emperor’s warts, what is going on?”

“Do you want to explain it to him or should I?” Rias murmured as the Nurians continued to evacuate the ship.

“Neither.” Tikaya searched Rias’s face. “How did you know?” she asked, certain that he had. He’d propelled the youth up onto the yard to make sure the Nurians knew he was there. They must have only known they were following the artifact, not necessarily that their prince remained with it.

“When he was offended at your suggestion that he’d stolen the flute,” Rias said, “I assumed it was his to start with. And you’d said that only the royal family knew how to create them, so…”

“You couldn’t have known he was one of the princes, though.”

“It was a hunch from the day we spent together.”

“A hunch?” Tikaya asked. “You barely speak his language.”

Rias sniffed. “Really.”

“And he never spoke more than three words at once anyway.”

“I can read people.” Rias lifted his eyebrows, as if to remind her of a previous conversation they’d had, one where he’d suggested that much of being a military strategist was being able to get into the mind of the person on the other side. He’d done more than that here. He was proving a knack for winning people over to his side as well.

“Hm,” Tikaya said, “I’d been worried about taking you back to the Kyatt Islands with me. I’d even been contemplating going home alone long enough to ensure my family I’m fine, then asking you to meet me at some foreign port later on.”

“And now?” Rias asked.

“I’m still worried about it, but I’m beginning to think you might have what it takes to assure my government you’re not a spy, placate belligerent citizens who resent your role in the war, and maybe even win Grandpa’s regard.”

“Am I correct in assuming that Grandpa may be the most intractable obstacle your island holds?”

Tikaya grinned. “Probably.”

“It does sound like a harrowing mission, but I would have been distraught if you took it from me.”

“Because you’ve fallen deeply in love with me, and you can’t bear the idea of weeks apart?”

“Perhaps.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Or perhaps because I, too, have grown weary of the frozen North, and the sun and beaches you’ve been talking about sound relaxing.”

“Hmmph.”

The captain stomped past them, cursing, glaring, and spitting in every direction. “What’s everybody doing? Standing around and gawking? Do you think this schooner is going to reach port by magic? Get back to work!”

Sailors scurried away like a flock of pigeons startled by a dog’s approach.

Tikaya leaned against Rias. “What are the odds of the next portion of our voyage being more tranquil? And involving a private cabin?”

“Whatever would we need a private cabin for?” Rias smiled.

“If you don’t know that you’re not nearly as good at reading people as you think.”

Tikaya was of a mind to kiss him, lack of privacy or not, but the captain grumped to a stop in front of them and jabbed his finger into Rias’s chest.

“That bilge water isn’t going to pump itself. Get back to work.”

Rias exchanged sighs with Tikaya. “A private cabin, yes, we’ll look into it.”