Breaking the Gloaming (6 page)

“I did not marry you just for your looks.” Ravien ran a hand through his hair.

“My gold could not have bought anything finer,” he answered, holding her gaze. Then he looked away, toward the surrounding city. “Are we still planning to ride straight to the royal quarter like diplomats? How about just one night in a nice inn? You can pretend to be a wealthy merchant’s trophy, his lady for the night.” He dipped her low, as if he were the one leading their dance.

“One of us will need to play the trophy, my dear. A man earns that status with his money, as much as by his looks. You serve well on both counts. Come on.” She pulled him to walk along the dock toward a crowd of Sunans near the shore. “We need to find that man you arranged to escort us.”
 

She had told Wren enough to make the voyage believable, but had held back the core mission—sealed in her pact with Sebastian and Justus. Marriage was not supposed to start with secrets, but this was no ideal world. At least she had lived up to her promise to never lie to him, so far. She admired his penetrating mind. It made her work hard to walk the boundaries of the truth without slipping into falsehoods. Growing up with Tryst and in the noble court, she had learned long ago how to stay in men’s confidences without them ever knowing her true purposes. She would need all that training here in Sunan.

“Master Wren!” A rotund, bald man pressed his way toward them along the harbor’s edge. “Welcome to Sunan! Last time I saw you, you said we’d never meet again. I knew you would be proven wrong.” Laughter rumbled up from his huge belly and flowed out of his mouth like the grey beard down his chest.
 

He looked at Ravien then, and his laughter stopped. “And last time I saw you, a lighter, fairer woman was on your arm, though I admit she lacked this one’s beauty.” He winked at Wren.

“You’ve said enough!” Wren boxed at him in jest. “It is good to see you again. Ravien, this is Balnor, one of his Excellency’s nine royal merchants, charged with governing trade in Sunan. I call him Ball. He talks more than he travels, and cheats more than he talks. Ball, this is Ravien, my wife.”

“Your wife!” Ball exclaimed. “The great trader, golden empire builder, spice dealer, Wren Sterling has taken on a wife? And only one?”
 

He looked at Ravien again, this time with genuine curiosity and a bow. “I have heard of a lady named Ravien. She is the sister of the new Prince of Valemidas. People say she hides in the shadows, moves like an assassin, and seduces men into devious acts rewarded by the grave.” He stepped back and appraised her with a grin.
 

“This wife of Wren’s could not be her. No, you are too refined, too graceful, and too pleasant for my eyes.” He scanned the length of her body. She wore a slim, purple dress that Wren had given to her. It was comfortable for the warm sea air, but not in keeping with the Sunan women’s practice of revealing nothing but their eyes. Married or not, Ravien had resolved to continue to use her looks to set men on edge.

“Well met, Balnor,” Ravien said. With her left hand, she tossed a dagger high into the air. Ball’s eyes followed the gleaming blade up and down. She caught it and flung it in one motion, whizzing past his ear and plunging into a wooden carriage at the end of the dock. “You will be guiding us to the king’s palace in that carriage, yes?”

Ball’s jaw hung open as his head swiveled back to Ravien. He smoothed his face and closed his mouth into a serious, knowing smile. “Impressive, Ravien, or shall I call you princess?”

“Ravien will do,” Wren interrupted. He pointed to the dock behind them. “Those six crates with black ravens on them are coming with us. We will speak more, Ball, but for now accept my thanks. There is no one I would rather welcome us to Sunan.”

“You are quite welcome.” Ball bowed again, keeping his eyes on Ravien. “The carriage is ours, and my men will load it.” He gestured toward four bare-chested men standing near the carriage and said something in the Sunan tongue. He said more than seemed necessary to simply order the loading of boxes. 

He turned back to Ravien and Wren. “Follow me.” He waddled away, leading them toward the end of the dock. The carriage was painted black and had sheer ivory silks for walls. Two horses were in reins at the front. Sweat dripped from the driver’s temples, out of the tightly wrapped cloth covering his head. He grinned and blinked his one eye at the newcomers.

Ravien stepped into the carriage first, keeping her sack with her. Wren entered next, while Ball stood just outside, barking commands Ravien could not understand.

“I do not like him,” Ravien whispered. “He talks too much, and his smile is fake. Our carriage driver looked too happy to see us. Something is wrong here.” She pointed toward the front of the carriage.

“What, a driver with one eye?” Wren answered cutely, as if she should just relax. “These Sunans are a harsh people,” he explained. “Outside of this city on the delta, the land around Sunan is nothing but sand and rock and heat. The two rivers merging in Sunan are the key to this place’s life. Some say man was created here, and that we of Valemidas are descendants of Sunan. Some say it was the other way around. Either way, the Sunans are like us, no matter how fierce the desert makes them. We have nothing to fear.”

“Nothing to fear?” Ravien asked. “How about being royalty from a nation the Sunans want to conquer?”

“You are the one who led us here,” Wren said. “We could be relaxing alone on a beautiful, remote island right now.”

“We will not escape and hide on some island when we have the power to direct the winds of destiny. I must play my part here, and you must trust me.” Ravien turned away and peeked out of the carriage. It was salty and warm, the wind swirling gently. The water was an aqua green and clear down to its white sand bottom. Not a cloud dotted the sky.

It would have felt peaceful if not for the hundreds of ships filling the harbor. They looked built for war, with thick hulls that together could hold thousands of men, and maybe horses too. Unlike the merchant vessel they had sailed in, these ships would travel slowly, against the wind. Still, if the Sunans lifted their anchors, their army would be at Valemidas’ gate in two or three months. Sooner if she succeeded. A shiver ran down her spine.

“All’s ready,” Ball announced as he lumbered into the carriage and sat facing Wren and Ravien. “Your crates are safely stowed under the carriage. To His Excellency’s palace?”

“Yes,” Ravien said, “how long is the ride?”
 

“Half an hour, maybe less today.” He tapped the driver’s shoulder through the front of the carriage, which began to roll down the smooth street away from the harbor. “It is the first day of the month, a day of ritual cleansing in honor of His Excellency. Sunan women may not step outside this day.” He stared down at Ravien’s bared legs.

“What? No women outside?” Her sharp tone jerked his head up. She held him with a focused stare. “I know what women must wear here, but I have never heard of such a day. Is there another day when men must stay inside?”

“Men?” Ball burst out laughing. “Absolutely not,” he said between breaths, “men do not need to learn restraint like women.” His cackling quieted under Ravien’s hard glare. “No offense, princess.” The honored title came out of his lips dismissively. “We in Sunan believe society works better when women stay out of the affairs of men. They are masters of their own domains in the home and in their local markets.”

“Tell me about these local markets,” Wren interrupted, trying to keep the peace. “Are they supplied from the royal markets that your council controls?” Ravien jammed her elbow into his side, hard enough to make him wince. He looked at her and shrugged. She admitted to herself that it was probably best to not push too far about the injustice of Sunan customs, not yet anyway. The injustice would end if her plans succeeded.

“Yes, all goods come through the royal markets first,” Ball explained. “Each of us nine royal merchants controls the royal market in each of the city’s nine sectors. We are the hub of the economy here, and the local markets are like the spokes of the wheel. Nothing passes into the people’s homes without passing through our supervision and approval. And nothing crosses between sectors without going through us. Black-market traders face severe punishment, even death. His Excellency is the only one who knows god’s will for us, so even we merchants benefit from his watchful eye.”

“How many vessels have come to Sunan from Valemidas in recent months?” Wren asked.

Ball hesitated before answering. “Not many. I have heard that the sea has been rough. You could probably count the vessels on one hand.” He seemed to be hiding something, but he droned on about the state of trade and the weather.

Ravien pulled the silk curtain back to look out of the carriage. The city’s buildings were all sandstone, like uniform blocks. The streets were all straight, the buildings all in perfect lines. The men wore light-colored robes and had short, black hair. What set them apart were the tattoos by their temples. The tattoos ranged from stars to trees, from intricate patterns to solid black squares. There seemed to be some connection between the tattoos and the different types of work the men were doing, but it would take much more time to learn their associations. As Ball had suggested, not a woman was in sight. 

Ravien then saw an enormous wall up ahead. At first it looked as if it were made of only sand. As they drew closer, she saw that huge yellowish brown blocks made up the wall. It was as tall as the walls of Valemidas, and looked to be twice as thick. The carriage began to slow before a large open gate.

A tap on her shoulder drew her attention back inside the carriage. Ball was looking at her, anxious and sweating.

“Better not to let the guards see who is in here,” he said. The carriage came to a stop and he stood. “Just stay put, and I will do the talking.” He swung out of the carriage with more urgency than she would have expected.

“I do not like this,” she said to Wren.
 

He reached out and gently brushed hair from her cheek. “I do not like it either, but we have little choice at this point. If you would share your secrets with me, maybe I could prepare better. Waltzing straight to this excellency guy is rather bold. Just my wife’s style.”

“The high priest Ilias will protect us,” she said, “and Ball seems to like you.”

“Ball likes gold. If he knew that this was no simple trading voyage—”

A rush of sound outside the carriage made them both tense. It sounded like clanging metal, like shackles.

“Step out slowly,” Ball demanded in a clear, loud voice. “This will go easier if you keep your hands by your sides.”

Ravien leaned her forehead against Wren’s, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply to calm herself. She then sat up straight and nodded. “We will find a way out of this.”

“I hope you know what you are doing,” he said.

She stepped out of the carriage, Wren just behind her. At least a hundred soldiers surrounded them. They must have known they were coming, to have gathered so fast. Their faces were blank and hard, but their armor looked made more for ceremony than for war. Light cloth draped from their waists, their chests were bare, and golden scales arched over their shoulders from helms burnished with gold. They held spears taller than the tallest of men.

Ravien could not help but think of how vulnerable the men’s chests were to her blades. She fingered a knife fastened flush to her thigh, under her dress. Eight men formed a line in front of her and Wren. Ball was standing off to Wren’s side.

“
Oloi panan
,” one of the soldiers said fiercely. Ravien had no clue what the words meant. The man looked older than the others, with scars covering his face. He stared at them expectantly.

“Disarm now,” Ball interpreted. “He is Dassa, the commander of the royal guard. He said to disarm now.” When neither Ravien nor Wren made a move, Ball spoke again. “You must drop all your weapons, now.”
 

Wren held out his empty hands. Ravien crouched down and slid her dress to the side, revealing the blade at her thigh. She hesitated.

“
Stop
,” Ball whispered, spotting Ravien’s concealed dagger. He turned to Wren. “I am sorry, friend, but I had no choice. You must stop your wife from doing anything rash. This can pass painlessly if you cooperate and obey. Do not fight now. Give yourself a chance.” The obese man cupped his hands, pleading. Sweat dripped from his brow to the sand-covered stones at their feet.

“We will play along for now,” Wren growled. He looked to Ravien, and she nodded. Moving slowly, she pulled out the dagger and dropped it on the ground. She still had one on her other thigh.

“Good,” Ball said, “His Excellency is coming.”

Ravien gritted her teeth and scanned the soldiers around her. Ball was right that she had to give herself a chance. She did not see anyone who looked like a priest. Surely Ilias would come to her. He would salvage this situation. She stood straight and calm while the hot sun baked her pale skin.

The soldiers began to split to either side of the road, opening a path through the gate and to the white domes of a palace in the distance. A shimmering shape approached them and grew larger. It was a man riding on a throne.
 

A score of servants held it up on four long poles on their shoulders, parallel to the ground. The throne rose up from the poles like a seat of gold. The strain of the men carrying it hinted that the throne really was made of the precious metal. Enough gold to feed Valemidas for a year.

The man sitting on the throne was young. His elaborate headdress and robes made it difficult to detect his exact age, but as he drew closer, Ravien guessed he was about sixteen.

A punch to her side brought her out of her stunned stare. “
Kneel!
” Ball commanded under his breath.

She noticed that everyone else—Ball, all the soldiers, and Wren—were bowed with their faces on the ground. She could not bring herself to do it. She swatted away Ball’s hand as he tried to pull her down. This was a meeting of two royals.

Trumpets sounded out as the throne halted before them. A herald shouted out something that probably announced the monarch’s arrival. Silence followed in the wake of the loud sounds.