Chapter 43

Sybelien, Nahseyra, and Hamsun sat at the foot of a ladder leading to the first level of the war galley’s three rows of oars.

“I like to sit here and watch the patch-men rowing,” Sybelien said. “It calms me.”

“Are you upset, too?” Nahseyra asked.

“How fast do you think they can row?” Hamsun inquired.

“I’ll wager if you ask the patch-men, they’ll tell you they can row as fast as they are ordered to row,” Sybelien answered the second question.

“Really? I can ask them?”

“Sure, why not?”

Hamsun went off like a shot.

“Yes, Nahsie, I am upset, too,” Sybelien answered the first question. “We’re sailing to Katerra, my home, and there is a war at my home.”

“Oh – I thought you were upset like momma and poppa. They are angry at God Jabbit. They say he is bad.”

“Then I guess I’m bad, too.”

“No; but poppa thinks you are dangerous,” Nahseyra revealed. “Almost as dangerous as Commander Danjala.”

“I hope that one day your poppa will think of me to be equally dangerous as Eva,” Sybelien answered with a grin.

“Really?”

“Of course,” Sybelien confirmed. “No one will tease me anymore if they think I am dangerous.”

Nahseyra wrinkled her brows and kept silent for a while. “I think you are right,” she remarked after she’d concluded her contemplation. “I wouldn’t tease Commander Danjala; she’s way too scary.”

“That’s a wise decision,” Sybelien agreed. “Unless you are her little sister or a god, it’s better not to tease Commander Danjala.”

“Princess Sybil - you are my ally, right?”

Sybelien nodded. “Yes, we are allies.”

“That’s something like a friend, right?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the same,” Sybelien answered, “but I’d like us to be allies and friends.”

The little queen smiled. “I would like that, too,” she said. “Can I ask you something as my friend?”

Sybelien sighed. “I guess I know what you’re going to ask but my answer might scare you.”

Nahseyra was not to be deterred. “Do you too think God Jabbit is bad?”

“I think your parents believe the boss is bad because they never saw the bad side of life,” Sybelien answered. “Princes and Princesses usually sleep safely at night when the monsters leave their caves to go hunting. But one night they may wake up and see the monsters by their bed. Then they’ll wish for someone bad to protect them from the truly evil monsters in this world.”

The little queen had listened, wide-eyed and breathlessly. “Do you think God Jabbit will protect me from the evil monsters?”

“Yes, my friend, I’m certain the boss will protect you from the evil monsters,” Sybelien answered.

“If God Jabbit protects me from the evil monsters then I don’t care if he’s bad,” Nahseyra decided. “Why do you call God Jabbit boss?”

“I once worked for a friend I always called boss,” Sybelien explained. “When I met God Jabbit and worked for him, I first called him boss as well because I was used to it by then. But to be honest, that’s not the reason I still call him boss. I now call him boss because it makes him smile and I like it when he smiles. The world is a better place when he smiles.”

Nahseyra giggled. “You do like God Jabbit!”

“Yes, I like the boss,” Sybelien whispered, “but you can’t tell anyone. It has to stay our secret.”

Nahseyra eagerly nodded. “We’re allies and friends, and now we share a secret. I like God Jabbit, too.”

“Nahsie, Hammie, where are you?” Someone shouted.

“I guess that’s your parents,” Sybelien surmised.

Hamsun came running. “Momma and Poppa say the patch-men are bad. We better go before they find us here and forbid us to come back.”

Nahseyra smiled at her brother. “You like bad pirates and patch-men and I like Jabbit.”

“Yeah, but you’re a girl,” Hamsun dismissed. “All girls like bunnies. Come on, Nahsie, we need to hurry.”

Nahseyra and Hamsun waved goodbye to Sybelien and then the siblings rushed up the ladder.

The ruling members of the Midnight Council and Dharos of Tunapor had come to a mutual decision in regards to the upcoming war. On their way back into town, one of the council members still felt the need to voice his lasting concerns.

“Only two days and more than twenty-thousand enemies will stand at the gates of Katerra,” Jorsha Sammon lamented. “And we’ll fight them with only a third of their numbers because of a little letter of dubious origin, armed with faith in an even more dubious youngling who pretends to be a god and might return here - probably, long after the town has fallen and we are all dead.”

“Jorsha, as your friend I will give you a piece of advice,” Inandrey Danjala rejoined. “If you can’t get your jealousy under control, stay away from Jabbit and you better stay even farther away from Eva. I know my daughter. She has a crush on Jabbit and if you continue belittling him, Eva will crush you. That’s how she’s always shown her love and loyalty.”

“But...” Jorsha tried.

“No,” Inandrey stalled his reply. “Her own behavior toward Jabbit has nothing to do with you. In Eva’s world, she has every right to tease and torment him - but you don’t.”

“Women,” Jorsha grumbled, “they are all nuts - especially the Danjala women.”

“Admit it, Jorsha,” the Lady Onessa demanded. “It’s not the Danjala women whose love and adoration you are missing.”

“Love and adoration?” The Moppet’s Warlord snorted. “Sybil and I were just good friends; she never loved and adored me.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Onessa asked, smirking.

“Do you seriously believe we can trust in this letter?” Jorsha huffed. “It wasn’t even meant for us. A damn crow dropped it in our lap. It very well could be a trap.”

Inandrey rolled her eyes. “Do crows drop letters in your lap so often that you believe one would trick you with a falsified message?” She dryly asked. “Face it Jorsha, there is only one person in this world with trained crows who could have sent this letter to us.”

“Why didn’t he write a letter himself, instead of redirecting a message from Luwani var Dosha to us?”

“Maybe because he thought that someone like you is more likely to believe in a message from an enemy than a letter sent by an ally,” Inandrey answered.

“Whatever,” Jorsha rebuffed. “We are placing an awful lot of hope into the goodwill and divine powers of someone we hardly know. And we know even less about the intentions he might hide behind his pretty smile.”

“You said it yourself,” the Lady Onessa replied, “we can’t win this war without help - only delay our defeat. Jabbit is the only one I know who might help us. Inandrey and both her daughters, Sybelien, an Ibanee Princess, and even King Dharos, they all trust in Jabbit. If you know of an alternative, why haven’t you told us about it?”

“No, I don’t know anything better,” Jorsha conceded. “It’s just that ... All right! I just don’t like him, dammit.”

Onessa and Inandrey looked at each other and grinned but didn’t reply anymore.

The small but fast corbita had set sail in Sanjaba this morning and it was late in the afternoon when Luwani var Dosha left her tiny cabin below deck for the first time since she had come aboard the ship. She espied the officer of her four-man escort immersed in a discussion with a man she didn’t know.

“Officer, is that man the captain of this ship?” She asked as she approached the two.

“Yes, your Majesty,” the officer bowed and replied. “This is Saccrin Ershon, Captain of the trading vessel The Swift Tongue.”

“Captain, firstly, I need a larger cabin,” Luwani stated.

“You already have the biggest cabin on my ship, your Royal Highness,” the captain informed.

“How disappointing,” she replied. “However, my second request is more important. I want you to change the course of your ship.”

“Your Majesty, the Prince Commander’s orders were explicit,” the officer intervened. “Your Majesty is banished from Ibanee for life. We are traveling to your family’s homeland, Cartuba, where you’ll have to leave this ship.”

“I am well aware of my sentence, officer - thank you,” Luwani snapped. “But my homeland is and always will be Ibanee. I don’t expect you to breach your duty, though. I am not asking to return to Ibanee but I choose another destination than Cartuba to become the place of my exile.”

“Which destination would that be, your Majesty?” The officer asked, warily.

“I want to sail to Khurshai,” Luwani answered.

“Where is Kurshai?” The officer asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Kurshai is more a large trading post than a real town,” the captain remarked. “It’s far to the northeast, well within the territory of the Yorak. It’s the largest market to trade with their tribes - that’s why the place is well-known among merchants.”

The officer stared at Luwani var Dosha. “You want to choose Yorak territory to become your exile?”

“You know the saying about the enemies of your enemies, officer,” Luwani answered. “I’ll grant you and the Captain a large reward if you’ll take me to Kurshai, a place where I’ll be among friends.”

The captain ordered to change course and a little while later The Swift Tongue was sailing toward the northeast.

The crème of the Alorian priesthood had finished their evening prayer in the chapel of Clagesh Abbey. Afterward, as had become a tradition since their escape from Katerra, they gathered in the High Priest’s quarters for a little nightcap.

“Although these rooms aren’t as comfortable as our apartments within our temples in Katerra, I’ll miss this wine once we return home again,” the Untar of the Golden Hand proclaimed before he took another swig from the goblet in his hand.

“Why miss it?” The High Priest asked. “I’m certain the good monks of Clagesh Abbey will feel honored when we ask them to donate a monthly delivery of their fine wines in the future.”