Encrypted (36 page)

Air whooshed around her.

“
Errkt,” she blurted,
dropping her journal.

A platform of air thrust from below,
propelling her upward. A circle in the ceiling slid aside, and the
force raised her through a hole. As soon as her feet cleared the
aperture, the floor slid back into place, and she stood on a second
blue circle. It felt solid, but she jumped to the side anyway.

A cozy space spread before her. Though she
could identify little at first glance, she had the impression of
living quarters and furnishings. Perhaps the caretaker for the
pumping house had dwelled there. If so, she had a chance to see
beyond the weapons-building, experimenting-on-humans side of the
ancient people.

Tikaya roamed the space, repeatedly
reminding herself not to touch things. Furnishings included cubes,
octagonal structures, high tables, and a large hollow sphere open
on two sides. No knickknacks or artwork decorated the surfaces, nor
could she find practical tools such as eating implements, but
perhaps all that had been taken when the occupant left
for...wherever these people went.

There was one exception. In a storage area,
she found a rack designed to hold spheres slightly smaller than her
fist. The rest of the concave slots were empty, save for one. She
slid the smooth black sphere out. A few groupings of runes ringed
the center. She did not recognize them, but eagerness suffused her.
Here was an artifact she could take with her to show the world. She
pocketed it to check against the runes in Lancecrest’s journal
later.

She was about to peer out the window to
check on Rias’s progress, when her gaze snagged on a clear tank
against the far wall. All the furnishings were made from the usual
black material, but that piece was as clear as Tenesian glass. An
inkling that it might be a bathtub enticed her further. Why settle
for washing in front of marines and teenage assassins in the
reservoir when she had this private room? And with the men off
exploring, what were the odds anyone would stumble upon her? Hammer
blows started up outside, so the two remaining men were busy on
Rias’s project.

Wary about making assumptions and touching
the wrong thing, she puzzled over a small plaque near the ledge.
She recognized the symbols for water and animals, but who would
bathe animals? Then the pieces clicked into place: not animals,
fish. It was an aquarium. Perhaps the plant siphoned off aquatic
life from the stream for saving or for studying, or perhaps they
simply liked observing fish for the same reasons as humans. Either
way, Tikaya grinned. She was not above bathing in an aquarium.

She fiddled with the controls, and soon
water flowed from an overhang around the inside of the tank. Her
grin widened when she discovered she could change the temperature.
Not only could she have a bath, but she could have a hot bath.

She snorted at herself. Such a female
characteristic to be so tickled at the idea of a warm bath. She
shrugged, removed her boots, and unbuttoned the Turgonian military
jacket with relish. How she missed her sandals and loose hemp
dresses.

There was no place nearby to set the
clothing, so she folded it and crossed the room to leave everything
on something octagonal, flat, and chest-high she decided to call a
table. She skipped back to the tank and slipped over the side. Warm
water embraced her, and she shivered with delight. She unbraided
her hair, submerged everything, then draped her arms over the sides
and laid her head on the ledge. Bliss. The bath reminded her of the
volcanic hot springs near her family’s property. She wondered how
everyone back home was doing. The harvest would be over by now. She
had missed her nephew’s birthday and her parents’ anniversary
celebration. She closed her eyes, lost in memories of home.

“
Tikaya?” Rias called
sometime later.

She sat up, and water sloshed over the side.
When had the hammering stopped outside?

“
Tikaya, are you all
right?”

“
Fine!” She scrambled out
of the tub. “I’m fine up here.”

Naked and dripping water, she peered about
for something to use as a towel.

“
You didn’t touch
anything, did you?” He sounded like he was right below the
lift.

She darted for her clothes even as air
whooshed.

Rias appeared on the platform before she
made it half way. Worry furrowed his brow, and he clutched her
journal. That expression changed to a wide-eyed gape when he
spotted her.

Frozen mid-step, Tikaya felt ridiculous—and
guilty at being caught relaxing while everyone else worked.

“
I, uhm, sorry.” She
stood, dripping, not sure where to put her hands or how to explain.
“I found this tub, you see, and it’s been so long, and, well, one
does get sort of dirty tussling with tunnel monsters and marching
across the tundra, and...”

Rias was just staring. She really ought to
shut up and put some clothes on.

He closed his eyes and clenched a fist,
looking very much like a man trying to control his temper. With
rigid, precise motions, he walked to the table, placed the journal
on it, and turned his back on her.

“
Take your time,” he
rasped, then stepped on the platform and disappeared.

Belatedly, she realized it was not his
temper he had been struggling to control. Her first thought was
that she should have hopped into his arms and invited him to join
her in the tub. Her second thought was to remember he was on top of
the Kyatt Islands enemies-of-state list and that she had no idea
what kind of seeds Sicarius’s promises had planted in his head. The
third thought ran the way of dismissing the second and seeing what
might come of the first.

“
Tikaya, you think too
much,” she muttered, grabbing her clothes.

Outside, she found Rias and Sicarius
building the frame of something that promised to be large. While
the assassin dragged wood over, Rias knelt, his back to her, and
hammered. Hard.

“
Rias?” she asked between
whacks.

His shoulders tensed, and he hunched his
neck. “Yes?”

She took a couple steps toward him. “May I
speak with you?”

He fiddled with the hammer. “I should keep
working, try to get this done so we can cross as soon as
possible.”

Tikaya hesitated. Maybe she had guessed
incorrectly. Yet he had never lost his temper with her, and it was
hard to imagine a midday bath truly irking him.

“
Please?”

Rias’s head drooped. He stood, gave Sicarius
instructions, and finally faced her. Tikaya led him out of the
assassin’s earshot.

Rias stared at the ground, avoiding her
eyes. She was about to speak, but he did so first.

“
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean
to stare. I wasn’t expecting you to be, ah...”

She resisted the urge to hug him—that would
probably make him more uncomfortable—and gripped his forearm
instead. Corded muscle lay beneath her hand. “I don’t mind. You can
stare.” Though so many differences stood between them, she could
not feel anything but delighted that he would want to.

Rias lifted his eyes. “Oh? I had the
impression that your parents wouldn’t approve of Fleet Admiral
Starcrest ogling their daughter.”

“
They’re not
here.”

He arched his eyebrows. “I didn’t think you
were particularly enamored at the notion either. Something about a
nation’s war enemies not being easily inserted into dreams
involving beach houses and blond children.”

She blushed. “Originally, I was rather
distraught at the dishevelment of my dreams, but I must admit I
can’t think of anyone else in the world I’d rather have ogling
me.”

“
Really.” His eyes gleamed
with humor but intensity too. He brushed his fingers down a lock of
damp hair dangling by her cheek.

Tikaya considered the construction site and
the assassin who, through tact or disinterest, was ignoring them.
“Almost private around here at the moment.” She arched her eyebrows
and stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I haven’t figured
out which piece of furniture up there is a bed, but I’m willing to
conduct research.”

“
I wouldn’t think it’d be
a problem. You found the tub after all.” Rias slid his arm around
her, drawing her against him.

“
Actually, that’s an
aquarium.”

She felt the soft rumble of laughter in his
chest, but it ended with a sigh. She tilted her head back,
searching his face.

“
Trust me, I’d very much
like to research the furniture with you, but...” He smiled and
brushed his thumb along her lips. “I suppose it’d be rather
irresponsible of me.”

She barely managed to avoid blurting ‘huh?’
Instead, she guessed, “Because you’re supposed to be building a,
er, whatever that is you’re building?”

Rias snorted. “Rust what I’m building—and
it’s a counterweight trebuchet, by the way.” His inability to
dismiss his project without at least a short explanation almost
made her laugh, despite her confusion over the rejection.

“
I’m aware of what is, and
what isn’t, included in a standard Turgonian field kit,” Rias went
on, “and I wouldn’t want to put you in the awkward situation of
explaining to your family how you came to be pregnant with an enemy
admiral’s child.”

“
Oh.” She laughed with
relief. He wasn’t rejecting her.

Rias frowned at her reaction. “Tikaya, I
know what the world believes about Turgonians, and the Kyattese
have every reason to think the worst of me. I fear that if you
intimate that we’re even friends, your people will believe I’ve
tortured and brainwashed you into giving that response.”

He looked exasperated that his words didn’t
drive the grin from her face, and his concern touched her.

“
What you say may be
true,” Tikaya said, “but that’s something to worry about after we
both get out of here alive. As for the other, getting pregnant
wouldn’t be possible until I returned home to see one of our
doctors to have the...” She groped for words to explain it in
Turgonian—as far as she knew, their women took their chances
drinking egata tea for contraceptive purposes. “It’s a procedure,
performed by a doctor—who is, in our culture, a practitioner
specializing in the psychological and somatic aspects of the mental
sciences. Anyway, it’s not irreversible. You just go see the doctor
again when you want to have children.”

During her explanation, his expression
changed from consternated to perplexed to enlightened. “There is
no...danger?”

“
No. After certain
incidents during the war, it was recommended by our government that
any women at risk of being captured have it done.”

His face darkened. “Were there many?
‘Incidents?’”

“
I was sheltered by the
fact that I never left the island, but from the folks who went out,
I heard...there were some ships you really didn’t want to find
yourself aboard.”

“
I see.” His jaw was
tight, body rigid. “I’d ask for the names of those ships, but
there’s nothing I could do now. It’s hard to know—I don’t mean to
make excuses, but men present a vastly different face to their
superiors than they do to their prisoners.”

“
I doubt you ever
did.”

He grimaced, apparently not in the mood for
praise, and she wished she had never brought up the subject.
Except, she reminded herself, that bringing it up meant disavowing
him of the notion that he could send her home a mother. Which
actually was not a horrifying concept, though he was right in that
it would be easier to deal with further down the line. Still, a
smile curled her lips at the thought of a passel of precocious
toddlers scurrying around the house, getting into mischief and
cutting down heirloom fruit trees to build play forts.

“
What are you thinking
of?” Rias’s muscles relaxed as he watched her.

“
Furniture research.” She
rose on her tiptoes, marveling that her eyes still weren’t level
with his, and kissed him.

Her explanations resulted in one pleasant
outcome: he did not hesitate to return it.

The moment ended abruptly. Rias pulled away,
annoyance flickering across his face. Before she could ask why, she
heard the clomp of boots. One of the squads of marines had
returned.

“
What, by the emperor’s
eternal warts, is this mess?” Bocrest bellowed as soon as he
entered the cavern and spotted the fledgling frame and the heaps of
wood surrounding it.

Rias sighed and dropped his head on Tikaya’s
shoulder.

“
Tonight?” she
suggested.

He released her with a hand squeeze and a
promise in his eyes. Please don’t let monsters, machines, or
annoying marines ruin the night, she thought.

“
We need help, boys,” Rias
called. “Grab a hammer.”

“
About this catapult...”
Tikaya said, a question occurring to her as her gaze skimmed the
chasm.

“
Counterweight trebuchet,”
Rias said.

“
Yes, of course. How will
one land without breaking every bone in her body?”

“
Parachutes, naturally.”
Rias help up a finger. “That reminds me.” He turned to holler at
the approaching men. “Anyone who isn’t able to find a hammer and
work on this is on sewing duty.”

Without glancing at the captain, the marines
hustled over, prepared to dive into the construction work to avoid
a stitching task. Chuckling, Tikaya returned to the second-story
retreat to examine the sphere that had piqued her interest
earlier.