EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (237 page)

The water molecule flashed twice, then disappeared to be replaced by the far more complex image she had been seeing all afternoon.

“I guess that isn’t the answer.” Rias gave her a sad smile. “I’m afraid that’s about the extent of my knowledge in this area. I haven’t an idea what that could be.” He swiped his finger through the dozens of linked symbols hovering in the air. The image did not waver. “Something we haven’t invented yet, probably. I can look through the shelves in the offices. It’s a long shot, but there might be a book that has our mediocre table of elements in it. Maybe that’ll help you with translating. Sorry I don’t have the answer.”

“Sorry!” Tikaya grabbed his arms. “You have no idea how much this helps. I mean, this could be the key to translating this whole language. You’re amazing!” She kissed him on the cheek, then danced back to her chalkboards. Now that he had pointed out the structures so cunningly crafted into the symbols, she could pick out ten or twelve she remembered from school. That was enough to get her started. Although...

“Actually, yes, I could use a book with your table in it.” She turned back and was about to ask him to look, but he was staring at her, his fingers touching the cheek she had kissed.

“Yes, of course.” He lowered his hand.

She bit her lip, tickled at his reaction. “Do you not get praised often?”

“It’s been a while,” he admitted. “And before Krychek, uhm, more often by men than women.”

“Not even your wife?”

He snorted. “Especially not by her.”

They shared a chuckle, and she admitted herself curious about the woman, though it should not matter. Rias’s past relationships were none of her business, and they had more important things to worry about. Besides, he had left her anyway. Tikaya blinked. Or had he? Maybe she was something, like his land and his name, that the empire had taken from him as punishment. Still, he did not sound disappointed.

“Horrible woman?” she asked, fishing.

“No, but we weren’t a good match from the start. It never would have lasted as long as it did if I hadn’t been away at sea so much of the time. She had my home, my money, and the freedom to spend time wherever—” he winced, “—with whomever, she pleased.”

Tikaya grimaced in sympathy. Like her, Parkonis had not been perfect, but he had always been faithful. “How’d you end up together to start with?”

“I was twenty, she was pretty, and our parents thought it would be a good idea.” Rias laughed ruefully. “But mostly I was twenty and she was pretty.” He waved away further discussion. “I’ll get that book.”

“Be careful.”

He waved an acknowledgment on his way out, and Tikaya shifted uneasily, as worried for him as for herself. Agarik had walked out, and she had not seen him since. Rias was only going to search this building, she told herself, and settled into work.

A few moments later, Tikaya had three chalkboards lined up, all full. She listed the translations for the atoms she recognized. Also, she listed runes she remembered from the rubbings, those displaying what she now recognized as molecular structures. The elements came up surprisingly often in what she had assumed was normal writing. Perhaps the subject was always science. Or maybe these people—this race?—had a language specifically for scientific matters. The Herdoctans had a different written language for religion, so why not?

A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, dropping her chalk.

“Sorry.” Rias held a book with his finger marking a page.

“No, don’t apologize. My fault for not paying attention.” Tikaya picked up the chalk and accepted the book. She glanced at the cover. “
Torture and Interrogation Methods Technical Manual
?”

Rias cleared his throat. “Yes, ah, just stick to the chapter on chemical applications.”

“Oh, I will. I don’t want to chance upon any Turgonian brutality secrets.” Or pictures more gruesome than the bodies on the floor.

He surveyed the chalkboards with bemusement and scraped at dried blood on the corner of one. “You know, some women wouldn’t be willing to work in a room full of corpses.”

She had already started writing and almost missed the comment. “What?”

Rias chuckled. “Nothing. Continue your work. I’ll stand guard.”

Tikaya straightened, wincing at the ache in her lower back. She stretched her arms toward the ceiling and shook out a cramp in her hand. Midnight had to be near, maybe past. Her stomach growled. Fatigue numbed her brain, and her mouth battled unsuccessfully against yawns. Even if the lighting had been better, her notes and the symbols on the device would have blurred and swam before her bleary eyes.

Rias stood guard by the door, checking the hallway from time to time, but mostly staying silent and letting her work.

A scream raced down the street below the hill. What if she translated the writing too late? After the entire team killed each other? She eyed the bodies in the corner. Rias had dragged them out of the way, muttering something about funeral pyres in the morning, but she worried about getting to morning. If enough people attacked at once, she and Rias could end up like that before dawn.

No, she decided, watching him standing with his ear cocked. Despite the hour, he was alert, rifle across his arms, hand on the stock, finger near the trigger. Not tense but relaxed and ready. She imagined he could fight off superior odds for a long time, but he would not want to do so. He’d be shooting his own people, the very men they were supposed to help later on.

Rias saw her watching him and lifted his eyebrows.

Tikaya felt silly to have been caught gazing at him. “I was wondering if you could get my mind off this for a moment.”

Rias joined her. He set the rifle butt on the floor and rested his forearms across the muzzle. He surveyed her, and she felt a self-conscious twinge. No doubt she had strands of hair sticking out in all directions and dark smudges assailing her eyes. And her baggy Turgonian uniform and parka did not flatter her form under any circumstances.

“A question.” Rias’s gaze rested on a chalkboard, though he did not seem to focus on anything. “If someone from Kyatt were to decide to marry a Turgonian, would they be allowed to live on your island?”

Tikaya was not sure what she had expected him to ask, but that was not it. “That wasn’t a marriage proposal, was it?”

He coughed. “No, no, just hypothetical. If it were a proposal...” He offered his half smile. “There’d be soft music, excellent food, romantic ambiance...” He tilted his head toward the corner. “Fewer corpses.”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure how they did it in the empire. Given your people’s reputation, I thought bloodshed and mangled bodies might be standard at social gatherings.”

“Bloodshed perhaps.”

Rias watched her, waiting for an answer to his question, she realized.

“The Kyatt Islands are major trade ports and learning centers, and we have numerous foreigners living there, either temporarily or permanently,” Tikaya said. “I can think of numerous Turgonians who studied at the Polytechnic over the years. And there have been cases of foreigners marrying natives and staying on the islands.”

“Turgonian foreigners?”

“Well, you would have been more welcome
before
your people tried to take over the islands.” She smiled, but no humor lightened his expression. “The president might ask you to leave if he found out you were among those sinking our ships and slinging cannon balls at our harbor, but if you said you didn’t take part in the war, I’m sure you’d be allowed to stay.”

“So.” Rias laid the rifle across his shoulders and draped his forearms over the ends, reminiscent of a man in a pillory. “Refuge, if one was willing to lie for the rest of one’s life.”

“Or just dodge questions about one’s name and one’s past. You’re good at that.”

She had not meant the statement to sound accusatory, but he flinched.

“Listen,” Tikaya said, “I don’t mean to insult you, but whatever you did, or whoever you are to those marines, you’re probably less important than you think to the rest of the world. Chances are my people have never heard of you.”

“Oh?” Leave it to the Turgonians: he looked faintly offended.

“You could tell
me
your name—” Tikaya wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, “—and then I could let you know whether or not you’d be welcome on my island.”

She thought he might remind her that his original question had been hypothetical and that he was not asking about his own future, just some imaginary person’s. He did not. He took a deep breath. “You’re right. I don’t know if we’re going to survive the next couple weeks and, even if we do, I’m guessing Bocrest has orders to make me disappear afterward, but either way it’s not honorable of me to keep truths from you. I—”

Glass shattered.

Tikaya whirled, grabbing the heavy book as if she could use it as a shield. A shadow moved at the window. Something long and small slid between the boards and rolled onto the floor. Flame spit and hissed on the end of a string. Not a string, a fuse.

Rias yanked her off her feet. The furniture blurred past as Rias leaped over it, arm clenched around her waist. He landed in the dark hallway, and shadows swallowed them.

He sprinted but only made it three steps before the explosion tore away the darkness. A great boom roared, and a concussion pounded Tikaya’s back, ripping her away from Rias.

The wall filled her vision. She tried to bring her arms up to protect her head, but she crashed first. Something popped in her shoulder and agony seared her body. The book dropped from her hands. She landed on the floor, which sent a second jolt of pain rocking through her. She gasped, trying to stifle cries, not sure who might be nearby.

A door at the end of the hall opened, and lights swam in the darkness. Tears blurred Tikaya’s vision. She gritted her teeth and blinked them away. Half a dozen men raced into the hall, lanterns swinging, swords and pistols waving.

The door at the opposite end flung open. They were surrounded.

Tikaya staggered to her feet. Her shoulder flamed with pain. She gasped and braced herself against the wall. Next to her, a shot cracked with a flash of orange flaring from Rias’s rifle.

“There she is!” someone shouted, voice ragged and rough, almost inhuman. “Give us the woman!”

“This way,” Rias whispered.

She grabbed the book and ran into a room after him. A return shot echoed through the hall behind them.

“Don’t shoot us, you idgeets!” came a cry from the opposite end.

Rias shut the door. A hint of starlight came through the window, but darkness reigned inside.

“They sound drunk,” Tikaya said, words broken as she gritted her teeth through the pain.

“Where are you hurt?” Rias snapped the lock, and furniture scraped as he shoved something in front of the door.

An image of the dead men in the other office invaded Tikaya’s mind. They had been trapped in a room, and this was exactly what they had done. It had not worked.

“Dislocated shoulder,” she said.

“Let me see—feel—it.”

“Don’t worry...about me. I’ll—”

But he was already sliding her parka off. She clenched her teeth, trying not to whimper.

Footsteps thundered down the hall, and light slipped under the crack in the door.

“Which room?” someone barked.

Rias unbuttoned her uniform jacket and probed her shoulder. “Bite down,” he whispered, putting something wooden in her mouth. Knife handle, she guessed. It was smooth and hard. He gripped her arm and shoulder, then jerked with one powerful motion.

Agony erupted. Tikaya clenched her teeth on the handle, panting to keep from crying out. Blackness encroached on her vision, and her legs gave way. Rias caught her and held her gently.

“You hear something?” someone asked.

“That room.”

“No, that one!”

“It’s whichever one’s locked, you halfwits.”

“Sorry,” Rias whispered, cupping the back of her head. He leaned his forehead against hers, and even in the darkness she sensed his distress over hurting her.

“Not your fault,” she said.

Someone rattled the doorknob.

Tikaya found the strength to stand again. Already the pain was fading to a manageable ache.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

“Strong lady.” Rias squeezed her good arm before pressing a pistol into her hand. “Back corner. Find something to crouch behind, but stay where you can aim at the door. If they get past me, shoot them. Here, take this too.” He loaded her up with the second pistol, a powder flask, and an ammo pouch.

“Shoot to kill?”

He hesitated. “Do what you have to do to stay alive.”

She nodded, then, realizing he would not see it, added, “I understand.”

Someone pounded on their door. “They’re in here!”

Tikaya set the book on a chair and slid behind a cabinet where she could see the window and the entrance. She gripped the pistol. At least the wall had been considerate enough to mangle her left shoulder instead of her right. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, the blasting stick will have destroyed the device, and everyone will return to normal any second.”

“Maybe.” Rias’s tone made the possibility sound unlikely, and Tikaya wondered if he had seen explosives used on the strange technology before.