Enigma

Tikaya lifted a hand to signal that she’d leave him alone, and only said, “If I can help you with anything, let me know.”

At least she’d initiated contact and let the boy know she spoke his language. Maybe he’d be more talkative if she tried again later.

Before the Nurian could close his eyes and resume his rest, the captain clomped down the steps. “The mate has work for you two,” he barked.

The scrubbing boy gathered his brush and bucket and scurried up the steps. Garchee was slower to comply, wincing when his feet hit the deck, but he shambled after the other youth. He kept his head down as he eased around his commander. The captain did not acknowledge his passing. Instead, he stalked toward Tikaya, ducking ceiling beams as he pulled out something long, narrow, and wrapped in black velvet.

She dropped her legs over the edge of the hammock and sat up. Something intangible, like the whisper of a breeze, stirred gooseflesh on her arms. Though she’d not had the feeling in some weeks, she recognized it instantly: a signal that a tool crafted from the mental sciences was nearby.

“Got something for you to look at.” The captain glanced toward the stairs-he was being careful to keep his back to them-before unwrapping his parcel.

Tikaya waited without commenting, though curiosity bubbled up inside. Maybe the captain and the mate wanted her to help with some relic they’d recovered in their adventures. Maybe they weren’t pirates or thieves after all. Of course, they might have stolen their prize and were now running from the owner. That could explain the battle damage they’d been repairing, an oddity on a craft with so few guns of its own.

Callused fingers peeled back the velvet covering, and Tikaya leaned forward. A wave surged into the schooner at that moment, tilting the floor. Her hammock colluded with the tilting ship to upend her. She tumbled into a heap at the captain’s feet. He hadn’t even taken a step to adjust his balance.

“I though the Kyattese were experienced sailors,” he said.

“Oh, I can fall off things on land too.” Tikaya sighed and settled cross-legged on the floor. It was harder to topple a tree already on the ground.

The captain lowered an ornate ivory flute. More than ornate. It was made of eight segments with intricate pictographic carvings that one would need a magnifying glass to examine in depth. And better lighting. And a ship that wasn’t rocking with each rise and fall of the waves. Despite the less than ideal situation, Tikaya found her gaze riveted.

“Is that a Nurian Enigma Flute?” It hardly seemed possible-she’d only seen etchings of the instruments in books. The Nurians didn’t let such prizes go lightly, certainly not to random schooner captains plying the Turgonian seas.

“If it is, is it valuable?” the captain asked.

Tikaya gaped at him. Did he truly have no idea as to what he had? What kind of pirate accidentally stole a priceless artifact? Or maybe he’d salvaged it from a wreck. But did the Nurians even take such treasures to sea?

“I know it’s worth at least something,” the captain said, “on account of the ivory, and it’s real pretty too. Maybe old? I can’t tell. But I need to know if it’s magic before I try to sell it in Turgonia. I don’t need a squad of enforcers chasing after me because some tooter starts glowing in the middle of the transaction.”

Tooter? The more Turgonians Tikaya met, the more she wondered how Rias could have come from that culture.

“It’s a problem because magic is illegal there,” the captain said, apparently taking her silence for confusion.

“Yes, I’ve heard that.” Tikaya held out her hand, hoping he’d give her a closer look.

The captain hesitated, then laid it on her palm. “Oh, right, your big lover is Turgonian, isn’t he? Looks familiar too, now that I’ve seen him with his hood down. Did he serve in the fleet?”

“It’s very rare,” Tikaya blurted in a rush to divert the captain’s attention. As far as most of Turgonia knew, Rias had been assassinated-that was the story the emperor had given the populace when he’d exiled his famous admiral to Krychek Island. The loathsome ruler might have another reason to hold a grudge if Rias started popping up along the coast, destroying the credence of that story. “And, yes, the flute was made by a practitioner. If it’s what I think, it would have been a practitioner from the royal line as well. The secret of how to create Enigma Flutes is tightly guarded-the stories suggest the great chiefs have sent assassins out to kill people who thought to sell the secret or steal the artifacts from the palace.” Tikaya arched her eyebrows, inviting an explanation as to how this one had come to be on the Fin.

“What’s the secret that’s so worth guarding?” the captain asked, ignoring the message coming from her eyebrows. “What can they do?”

“The Nurians are preeminent mental scientists and, to a lesser extent, warriors. That’s all many foreigners know about them, but they have a rich cultural, artistic, and musical heritage. Singing and dance are a part of all formal gatherings, even the funeral to celebrate the passing of a chief or the ushering in of a new leader.”

The captain shifted from foot to foot and drummed his fingers on the closest ceiling beam.

“When the Great Chief calls an assembly of all his regional chiefs, the citizens are allowed to attend, and it’s always a massive gathering. To ensure their continuing rule, the chiefs must keep those citizens happy, so they issue numerous placating speeches, often offering promises of improvements to the chiefdom. Over there, leadership is a hereditary position, but Nurian history is replete with instances of unpopular chiefs being poisoned in their sleep or having other fatal accidents befall them.”

By now the captain had added eye rolling to his foot-to-foot dance of impatience. “Is there any chance you’ll get to the relevant part of this lecture before we reach Port Malevek?” He squinted at her. “There is a relevant part, isn’t there?”

At least Tikaya had distracted him from thinking of Rias. “Yes, I’m getting to it.” She lifted the flute. “The assassinations I spoke of have been rare for the last four hundred years, during which the Duk Noo Dynasty has been firmly entrenched. Prior to that, dynasties tended to be short, anywhere from three generations at the long end to half a year at the short end. Due to the frequent changes, poor children studying Nurian history have had to make up long and involved songs to remember the ordering of the dynasties.” She smiled as she recalled memorizing such songs, but the captain was scowling, so she decided she’d best give him the information he sought. It occurred to her to withhold it, but he already looked like a man three seconds from wringing someone’s neck, and she didn’t have any weapons handy with which to defend herself. Even if her longbow were strung and within reach, she doubted she could draw it in the bay’s tight confines. “Here’s what’s applicable to you,” she said. “At these public gatherings-they’re called tek-lee, by the way-”

“Fascinating,” the captain said with another eye roll.

“-before, after, and between the speeches, it’s common for the chiefs to have music played. Flute tunes are typical. The tek-lees of the last four hundred years have been oddly peaceful gatherings when compared to those of prior centuries, with the citizens cheering in favor of everything the Great Chief has said. Though there’s no word of it in Nurian texts, visiting diplomats have insinuated that the music of the flutist’s special instruments had some scientifically enhanced qualities, such as might turn a contrary man into an amenable one.”

The captain’s eyes sharpened, and he stopped shifting about. “Enhanced qualities? You mean magic?”

“That is a Turgonian word that lacks precision, but essentially yes.”

“The flute can persuade people to go along with what the chiefs are saying?”

“That’s the hypothesis. The Nurian rulers deny it of course.”

“So, if someone learned how to play this flute, that someone could persuade people too? A lot of people?” The captain scratched at stubble on his jaw. “That ought to be worth a great deal to someone.”

“To someone willing to risk the ire of Nurian spies who might be sent to recoup the stolen piece. It is stolen, isn’t it?” The captain’s focus had turned inward, and Tikaya hoped that, in his distracted state, he might answer her question.

But his eyes sharpened. “Not by me. I bartered for it. Legitimately.”

“It’s hard to believe any Nurian would barter this away, especially to a Turgonian. Even though your people are ignorant in terms of the Science, if you recruited someone with knowledge, the flute could possibly have military applications.”