Chapter 23

The weather supported their journey with a steady north-western breeze, allowing the corbita to sail with good speed towards their destination, Ibanee. In the evening they passed the delta of the Ewu and reached the open sea.

The Sullen Mermaid had a small caboose (kitchen) and a mess room, too small to accommodate the entire crew at once, so the crew had to take their meals in shifts. After the last of the ship’s crew finished eating, always under the ever-watchful eyes of their patch-men guards, her noble passengers invaded the mess room to dine. They sat randomly at one of the two tables and the ship’s cook brought them their meals. While everyone else started eating immediately, Rhaseris skeptically eyed the bowl placed in front of her which contained a steaming-hot brownish substance.

“It’s a fish stew and tastes much better than it looks,” Kuwasi encouraged.

Rhaseris sampled a small spoon of the stew, chewed with a thoughtful expression on her face, and then smiled at the Ibanee pirate.

“Now that our Princess has approved of her meal, we should talk about some other things we might encounter on this passage,” Evanis stated. “We’ll most likely come across Ibanee’s warships, patrolling the Garossa Sea. The Captain told me they usually board to check the load and they demand to be paid a fee in proportion to its value. The trouble is we have no load which might appear a bit suspicious on a cargo ship.”

“Isn’t the load compartment filled with Ansa’s baggage? We could pretend to be a cloth trader,” Sybelien proposed and received an angry glare from her girlfriend as a reward for her helpful suggestion.

“Does it matter whether it looks suspicious?” Rhaseris asked. “Anjatta is a passenger on this ship. She’s a princess of Ibanee and we are her guests.”

Anjatta nodded. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with the patrols,” she said. “I never used my family name to garner special treatment but mainly because I never needed to do so. I’m used to being pampered without needing to ask for it.”

Anseyla laughed out in response. “I’ll enjoy traveling in the company of royals.”

“And if something goes awry Eva and her patch-men still can board the patrol ship, kill everyone aboard, and then sink the ship to get rid of the evidence,” Sybelien calmly added.

“That sounds good to me,” Evanis agreed. “Especially the emergency plan,” she added just as coolly as the little blond.

“Traveling in the company of mercenaries is a similarly new experience for me,” Anjatta commented on Anseyla’s prior remark with a little queasy-looking expression on her face.

“How do we divide out the cabins now that everyone is aboard?” Anseyla asked, changing the subject.

Kuwasi noisily cleared his throat. “I think it would be best for everyone if Jabbit takes a hammock in the common crew’s quarter,” the big man soberly voiced his opinion.

His proposal garnered everyone’s attention evenly whereas their faces displayed a wide variety of emotions in response to his suggestion.

“Kuwasi, you may think you’re funny,” Evanis growled. “When you find yourself at the bottom of the sea with an anchor tied to your feet you’ll realize how funny I think you are.”

“I’m serious!” Kuwasi defended himself, but couldn’t successfully suppress his grin. “Personally, I wouldn’t mind but if every one of you decides to share his bed at the same time there will be trouble.”

“No, there won’t be any trouble,” Evanis ordered. “You’ll sleep at the bottom of the sea; Sybil, Ansa, and Anjatta share one cabin; the Princess, Jabbit, and I will share the other.”

“Me? Selected for the chastity cabin? Who would have thought?” Evanis’ baby sister happily commented.

One of the two mentioned chaste young women rewarded Anseyla’s interjection with an appropriate blush whereas the other darkly glowered at her girlfriend.

“That reminds me!” Anseyla noted. “I brought lots of pomegranate seeds and ginger roots - enough for all of us. Who wants some?”

Most everyone at the table appeared to be confused by her offer but Evanis eyes reduced to slits, looking at her sister, and Sybelien’s glower turned even darker.

Unfazed, Anseyla met her older sister’s gaze with an innocent smile. “Mom explicitly suggested I offer it to you, Eva. I guess the thought of becoming a grandma worries her for now; it’s probably a bit too soon for her liking - Oww, that hurts,” she whined as Sybelien’s elbow struck her side.

“I don’t need it,” Evanis growled her answer.

Anseyla rubbed her side but bravely turned her head and grinned at Jabbit. “Did you tell my sister she doesn’t need to worry because you’ll pull out in time?” She brightly asked.

Everyone looked at Jabbit, nervously awaiting his answer.

“I did tell her she doesn’t need to worry about becoming pregnant but she doesn’t believe me,” he easily answered, while Evanis growling rose in volume. “I don’t mind. I think even if she believed me she still would want us to follow her own precautionary method.”

Anseyla’s gaze, like everyone else’s, returned to Evanis. Astonishingly, her growling had stopped and she calmly faced everyone sitting at the table.

“Jabbit means I like it when he fucks my ass,” she explained, even smiling at her younger sister. “I hardly can get pregnant that way, which is the reason I don’t need your stuff.” Then she rose from her chair. “Anyhow, talking about it made me horny. So you’ll have to excuse us.” Sashaying out of the mess, she called over her shoulder, “Are you coming, lover boy? I really need you now.”

The people at the table speechlessly watched Jabbit following Evanis out of the mess room.

“Dammit, now I need something new to tease Eva,” Anseyla mourned when both were gone.

Dekla Ghur and Koban Framac were tired and exhausted after a laborious day of work. Nevertheless, they still had to attend the evening prayer at the temple of Purity and Devotion and were walking toward it across the courtyard at the Marble Cemetery.

“I was talking to a group of harbor workers about the conspiracy between Dharos, the Tyrant of Katerra, and the evil heretic who escaped his just punishment when a piece of horse dung hit me straight in the face,” Dekla Ghur complained. “A filthy little boy had thrown it at me and was laughing as he ran away!”

“I don’t envy you for working the harbor district,” Koban Framac sympathized. “In the afternoon I was preaching only one road down from the Banyan Dream. I didn’t dare to talk about the Danjala whores supporting the heretic. But talking about the Ibanee blockading the Ewu isn’t as dangerous.”

“True, but talking about the Yorak is always dangerous,” his priestly friend remarked. “I swear, some people looked at me like they’d suspect I’d open the gates for those murderous barbarians when they come.”

“I even had some Tunapor soldiers listening to me at times,” Dekla Ghur replied. “They didn’t do anything but of course I didn’t mention the Emperor while they were listening.”

“I got to admit, though, it wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be,” his friend replied. “I talked to many of our brethren and no one heard anything of Evanis Danjala and her demonic horde. I pray she left Katerra and will never return. Evanis Danjala is worse than the Yorak.”

His friend stumbled and looked at the ground. “I don’t remember the cracks in the ground being that wide and long,” he wondered. “They are almost reaching the outer edges of the yard. Did they spread out?”

Koban Framac shrugged. “I didn’t spend the time gauging the cracks in the ground when the Black Finger exploded.”

“Neither was I!” Dekla Ghur laughed and shook his head. “Believe me, neither was I.”

The Alorian priesthood had indeed been busy during the day. At every street corner, a priest announced a holy war against all heretic foreigners, infidels, and the archenemy of the Alorian gods himself, the Faceless God, adversary of all things alive, good, and holy.

Despite the priesthood’s efforts to ruin any kind of festive mood, in the evening an exclusive dinner party took place at the White Citadel. The Lady Onessa Ghala’Dansha had invited the ruling members of the Midnight Council on behalf of Dharos of Tunapor. The old monarch knew all six members of the Midnight Council by name and of course by their reputation but the Lady Onessa aside, he had never met them personally. Initially, every member of the Council had declined the invitation, more or less politely, but every one of them relented when the Lady of the Whisperers made clear to them just how strongly Dharos insisted on the meeting. Notwithstanding the delicious food and exquisite wine, the Emperor’s vehement insistence also caused a rather tense ambiance at the dinner table. Dharos was the first to speak and to break the strained silence.

“First, I want to redirect everyone’s ire to where it belongs - on me,” the old king opened. “I told the Lady Onessa I’m willing to use my army and arrest every one of you to force this meeting. She convinced me not only that such an attempt would spectacularly fail but also would destroy the hope for a constructive meeting, once and for all. Furthermore, I give you my word, every one of you will leave the White Citadel as freely as you came here when you accepted my invitation.”

Thar’Haghanosh, Warlord of The Silent Hand, nodded. “I am indeed angered by the Lady Onessa’s obvious indiscretion as well as I strongly dislike threats as incentives to accept an invitation. However, I am here and I’m willing to listen.”

“As far as I am concerned your anger is justified, Lord Thar’Haghanosh,” The Emperor conceded. “Onessa acted on my behalf and she did so because of her trust in me, a trust you don’t have any reason to share. Let’s not waste anyone’s time and cut right to the chase for this meeting. Onessa revealed to me that the Midnight Council will support the ascendance of one Sybil Ghyssa to the throne of the Alorian Empire - a throne currently occupied by me.”

Onessa accepted the icy looks cast at her wordlessly and with a solemn poise - looks, from those she might only call her ‘former friends’ if nothing at this meeting changed their minds.

The Emperor raised his hand, reclaiming the attention. “Yes, Onessa revealed your secret plan to me but before you lynch her, let me make something very clear to you - something Onessa only surmised,” Dharos emphasized. “If this Sybil Ghyssa is indeed Sybelien Rossano’Shenta, the youngest daughter of Callandrea who through some miracle survived the massacre of her family, I will personally place the crown of the Alorian Empire on her head, cheering louder than anyone!”

This proclamation of the old king from Tunapor had been more successful than his raised hand. Every gaze was now fixated on him. The members of the Midnight Council were avidly awaiting an explanation for his surprising statement. The one most longing for enlightenment was Onessa, who still wasn’t sure about the reasons for Dharos’ manic outburst this morning.

“I need to know everything about this girl!” The King continued, and his raising agitation was clear to see. “When, where, and who found her? I need to see her to be sure it is Sybelien but Onessa told me she vanished when the young man, Jabbit, was arrested and tried and no one has seen her since then. Where is she now? No spy could find her but Onessa told me one of you might know. I need to see her and talk to her!”

“Jabbit!” Jorsha spoke out the name like a curse. “I told Sybil to stay in Katerra but she left...”