Chapter 6

A very big ship steered through the delta of the Ewu, its sleek lines and armaments distinguishing it from the usual cargo ships. It was an Ibanees war galley, outfitted with three levels of oars and one-hundred-eighty oarsmen. A heavy bronze ram protruded from its bow, and a catapult had been mounted on the forecastle.

In the captain’s cabin at the stern of the ship, Luwani var Dosha sat at a large table. She was studying several old parchments - a star-map, a card of the Alorian Empire and some even older scrolls written in long-forgotten languages. She looked up when the door opened and a young man entered the cabin.

“Mother, we’ve passed the delta,” Agon var Dosha informed her. “It’ll take less than half a day until we reach Katerra.”

He stepped to the table, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the parchments.

“The positions of the stars on this map are wrong,” he pointed out.

“This map is ancient,” his mother answered. “It’s thousands of years old and even the stars can change in that time. Some of the stars are just gone while others have moved.”

“What’s the use of an outdated star-map?” He asked.

Luwani smiled at her son. “Generations of our best astronomers and mathematicians studied this map. By comparing this card with maps drawn between then and now, they calculated a precise point in time.”

Agon snorted. “They predicted the precise time for a fairytale to happen. I’ll never understand how people can waste their whole life on something like that.”

Luwani raised an eyebrow looking at her son. “You mean people like your sister?”

He shrugged. “It’s no secret Anjatta is as crazy as rats in the attic.”

Luwani turned towards the bunk at the back of the cabin.

“Anja, dear, are you insane?” She asked.

“For now I am,” a young woman answered. “Insanity was the path I had to choose but it’s not my destination. When all your sane peoples’ plans have failed, you will look for the insane and ask for help. But will I recognize your pleas? Maybe all I’ll hear will be crazy voices, screaming in my head.”

Luwani laughed. “You heard your sister. I wouldn’t worry too much about her state of mind.”

“I’m the captain of this ship,” Agon grumbled. “My orders are to take you to Katerra, support you in any way necessary and to wait for you to conclude your business. Of course, I worry.”

His mother nodded. “So you see, King Hassunabi, your uncle, doesn’t think I’m crazy.”

“To the contrary, I’m certain he knows you both are crazy,” her son dissented. “This was the easiest way to get rid of you, and to get rid of me as well. He always viewed me as a threat to his throne.”

“Of course he does,” Luwani said smiling at her son.

He looked at his mother and frowned but left the cabin without to lose another word.

“Agon will be a much better king than Hassunabi,” Luwani remarked when he was gone.

“Because he is your son and you don’t have much influence on your good brother,” surmised her daughter. “And even less since your late husband’s tragic demise.”

“Your FATHER’s tragic demise,” her mother remarked, raising her voice.

“If you say so,” Anjatta casually dismissed. “Have your scholars been able to translate some more of the parchments?”

“We ran out of time,” Luwani answered. “After reading the oldest text we’ve found, some of the scholars believe one of the artifacts and its power may already have been discovered.”

“Oh, which one?” Anjatta asked. “‘Death’s Payment’, its ‘Remembrance’, its ‘Pearl-White Throne’ or ‘Death’s Defeat’?”

Her mother sighed. “We don’t know. They aren’t even certain about the accuracy of the translation for the names of the four relics of power. The ‘Faceless God’ mentioned in the few Alorian translations we found is the God of Death. The relics were created by the god either as a reward for his followers or perhaps as a gift to his son and then the son rewarded his followers with the relics. That’s all the scholars are certain about. That and all four items of power will be taken to Katerra within this moon cycle.”

“A new empire will arise out of the ashes when the son leaves the world behind, “ Anjatta whispered reverently.

Her mother turned and watched the young woman with a smile.

“You are the only one who believes this prediction is meant literally,” Luwani amusedly chided. “And you’re not really a scholar, you have to admit. You are a dreamer.”

“It’s not just a simple prediction, it’s a part of a prophecy,” Anjatta refuted. “I am not a dreamer. I am an oracle and as it has been the curse of every oracle since the dawn of time, my warnings are ignored.”

Luwani laughed. “I love you, my daughter. You’re a beautiful young woman and so very intelligent that sometimes you scare me - but your brother is right; you also are crazy.”

Anjatta rose from her bunk and passed her mother as she walked to the cabin door. There she halted with her hand on the door latch.

“I won’t ask you anymore to believe me, mother. The time has come and soon it won’t matter anymore if you believe me or not.”

Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and left the cabin.

Sybelien spent the afternoon at the market in ‘fat man’s table’, a district within the north-western quarter of Katerra. The district was full and busy with traders and buyers. Most of the northern traders plied their wares here. In contrast, only the small, wealthy part of the Katerran population made their way to the district. Of course, Sybelien wasn’t here to buy; she was here to steal. Everyone in Katerra needed a profession to make a living - or at least to survive. Thieving was Sybelien’s profession these days. She had started out as most orphans did. Too young and small, without any skills or strength, orphans inevitably became beggars. The lucky ones that is; the less fortunate just died. But Sybelien always had been very lucky.

During the first night of the Yorak’s raid, someone had found a group of raped and slaughtered women. One of them still had held a severely wounded baby in her arms – lucky Sybelien. Someone hadn’t simply left her to die but took the baby, then fed and cared for her the next three years. Someone had died when Sybelien was four years old. The four-year-old girl became very sick in the months following her rescuer’s death. She almost starved to death but lucky Sybelien was rescued again by another someone. Not before the long months of malnutrition and sickness had irreparably damaged her body, though. It was the reason the now twenty-year-old woman had the body of a little girl - and always would have, given what a priestess schooled in the healing arts had told her. She also would never have children, nor would she grow very old ... lucky Sybelien.

Jorsha Sammon was the name of the someone who had rescued her life the second time. Jorsha had been sixteen at the time and was just starting out his own profession. Today they called him ‘Moppets’ Warlord’, a member of the ‘Midnight Council’. The Midnight Council ruled the parts of Katerra not controlled by its self-appointed emperor - which meant pretty much all of Katerra outside the White Citadel, the emperor’s residence.

Sybelien didn’t spend much time thinking about her past. She focused on the here and now because she wanted to survive without the need to be rescued a third time. Here and now, she noticed a little boy climbing a weathered statue in the center of the marketplace. The statue was of Callandrea Rossano’Shenta, the last Alorian Empress, and when the boy reached the shoulder of the statue he paused and looked around. Their gazes met each other and Sybelien nodded. She left the market and waited for the little boy in a shabby alley leading southwards to the harbor. She didn’t need to wait for long.

“Sybil, de Warlord wanna ‘ee ye,” the boy informed her.

“Close to Chipotle Road, a tall merchant with a brown leather shirt and a crimson dagger sheath has almost finished selling all his stuff,” she told the boy. “He sold a lot. When he’s done, he’ll take the Sinners Road to the harbor and will visit the Siren’s Call. He always does. He’ll stay there for about two hours. Take some of your friends and wait for him.”

“Coudda snatch him nun, fore he spills gold on whores. Why’d we hafta wait?” The boy asked.

“Because Mhyrie wants to take some of his gold,” Sybelien answered. “She works at the Siren’s Call and told me about the merchant.”

The boy grinned at Sybelien and nodded avidly. He understood and had learned another lesson.

The Ibanee war galley ‘Storm’s Bride’ had moored at a pier in the war harbor. It was the only ship in this part of the port. The war harbor was another relic of the past, a time when the Alorian Empire had owned a naval force - a time long since passed.

“We will have to dine with the Emperor tonight,” Agon warned his mother and sister. “When he hears that members of the Ibanee royal family are in Katerra but didn’t ask for an audience, he’ll feel offended. Rightfully so, I might add.”

“Ibanee commands the Garossa Sea and allows trading ships heading for Katerra to pass,” Luwani said. “If the Emperor wants to stay Emperor, he’ll be on his best behavior and refrain from placing demands on us,” she dismissed her son’s warning. Before Agon could reply she continued. “However, we will visit the White Citadel and dine with Dharos of Tunapor, Katerra’s current ‘Emperor’.”

Agon sighed. “If you could keep light on derogatory remarks during dinner, we might even enjoy our meal,” her son suggested. “I’ll go and find you the help you’ll need for your quest. As if anyone should help you with this idiocy,” he said, mumbling his last sentence as he left.

“And what do we do, mother?” Anjatta asked. “I don’t want to stay a moment longer on this ship.”

Luwani rolled her eyes looking at her daughter. “You’re the Princess of a seafaring nation, dear,” her mother chided. “Could you for once behave more like a royal princess and less like a whiny child?”

“I’ll try,” Anjatta answered with a shrug. “Maybe it would help if for once you could behave more like a visitor in a foreign country and less like its queen.”

Her mother dignified the remark with a short angry glare before she turned to a ship’s officer close by.

“You,” she called the man. “My daughter and I will visit the temple district. We need an escort.”

The officer hastened to obey the royal command.