“ Glad our penal island is renowned even amongst foreigners.” Five’s dryness held a bitter edge this time.
She sighed. She had offended him. And she had a new concern. If he was that much of a criminal, dare she side with him? What could he have done to merit such a harsh punishment? Brutality seemed bred into the Turgonian culture, so she struggled to imagine someone who fit their definition of vile. Five sounded normal-pleasant-but perhaps it was a facade. He had to be shackled for a reason, though Captain Bocrest’s current problems must trump that reason, or why else would Five be here?
“ But the captain came to pick you up? Isn’t Krychek Island usually a permanent residence?” she asked, wanting to be sure. “Its location is even secret, isn’t it? So families can’t make rescue attempts?”
“ Correct.” Tension riddled that one clipped word, and she hesitated before asking the next question, but she had to know if he was likely to be a threat to her.
“ What was your crime?”
Clothing rustled and the chains rattled. “No more questions.” His voice was muffled, as if he had covered his face. “Please,” he added so softly she thought she might have imagined it.
“ Of course. Sorry.” She meant it. If the place was half as bad as the stories said, she could understand not wanting to discuss it. He was probably lost in his painful memories, and only the puzzle of the language had distracted him. “Uhm, I’ll be over here, enjoying the lovely ambiance and pondering these slanted circles, dots, and sideways trees. If you want to talk later, let me know.”
She did not expect anything else from him, but he surprised her by asking, “Sideways trees?”
“ Well, if trees were symmetrical maybe. Want to see?”
“ I can’t reach the corridor.”
She grabbed one of the rubbings, folded it into a compact stack, and tossed it through his gate. His dark form shifted, so she assumed it fell within his reach, but he said nothing.
“ Can you see it?” she asked after a moment. “Is there enough light?”
“ Yes. I should have known.” He sounded grimmer than a funeral pyre. “I’ve seen them before.”
“ Where?”
“ Somewhere I never want to go again.”
“ Where?” she repeated, leaning forward.
He did not answer.
“ Five?”
Silence.
CHAPTER 3
Tikaya dozed until the hatch creaked open hours later. The perennial darkness of the cell stole her sense of time, but she guessed it was evening. Her hollow stomach whined for a meal.
Footfalls rang on the metal deck. She eyed the gate warily and let out a sigh of relief when Corporal Agarik came into view-alone. He carried two metal canteens and wooden trenchers narrow enough to slide between the bars. Dried fish, dried fruit, and a couple of hard biscuits soon rested on the floor before Tikaya. Though the meal did not exactly fill the brig with scintillating scents, her mouth watered anyway.
She grabbed a biscuit and gnawed. It had the consistency of sawdust and less flavor. Agarik placed another tray, this one with a larger portion of food, on the floor in Five’s cell. He drew his cutlass and used it to push the tray deeper, presumably so the chained prisoner could reach it. Tension marked the corporal’s movements-he seemed to fear an attack at any moment-and Tikaya wondered if people had been hurt, or worse, when the marines originally locked Five up. Either that or his reputation was simply enough to instill fear. Even Sergeant Ottotark’s bravado had seemed forced. And she wanted to ally with Five? Was she insane? Just desperate, she decided.
Agarik delivered the meal without incident; the chains did not even clank to suggest movement. He sheathed his sword and turned to face her.
“ Captain Bocrest wishes to know if you’ve decided whether to cooperate voluntarily or if more…” he shrugged apologetically, “pressure is required.”
What? Threatening families-and windpipes-was not enough to sway most prisoners?
“ I’m willing to attempt the translations,” she said, “but I have terms. I can’t work in these conditions.”
“ I’ll tell him.”
“ Corporal?” Tikaya asked before he could leave.
He turned back, face guarded. He probably feared she would ask some favor he would be duty-bound to refuse.
“ Thank you for your kindnesses,” was all she said.
He nodded but said nothing. A bevy of footsteps hammered the deck, the hatch clanked open, and six burly marines clomped into view. Sergeant Ottotark followed, tapping his baton against his thigh as he walked, and Tikaya shrank into the shadows. Now what?
The six marines staggered themselves along the corridor and pointed pistols, not into her cell but into the opposite one. Tikaya stepped forward, afraid they meant to execute her neighbor, but Ottotark rattled the keys.
“ Time to visit the captain, Five.”
He unlocked the door and waved two of his men inside. They exchanged nervous glances but slid into the cell and stood on either side of the door, pistols never wavering. Ottotark took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself, then walked inside. As yet, the chains had not rattled, and Tikaya half thought Five asleep. Maybe he was just being still, hoping for a chance to escape. Though how he could do so with so many firearms pointed his way, she could not guess.
While all eyes focused on that cell, Tikaya eased forward. She eyed the belts of the men within her reach, hoping to spot a set of keys. Such luck did not favor her.
Corporal Agarik had stepped back when the others marched in, and she caught his knowing gaze on her. She sniffed and stared back. They had kidnapped her; she refused to feel guilty for thinking of escaping.
“ Up.” Sergeant Ottotark must have unlocked the chains securing the prisoner to the wall. A long still moment passed with no sign of movement in Five’s cell. “I said, get up!”
Ottotark lunged into the shadows. Tikaya flinched, expecting the meaty thud of that baton striking flesh. A scuffle and grunt sounded. Someone threw the baton and it clattered against the gate before dropping to the floor. The sergeant growled and drew his arm back, but he halted mid-blow and skittered backward.
Five was on his feet.
“ Don’t move!” one of the marines inside the cell barked, pistol arm straight and rigid. “We will shoot you.”
“ Doubtful.” But Five stopped short of grabbing Ottotark and turned toward the guards, his features still in shadow.
“ Cursed bastard, you presume much,” Ottotark growled. “We can shoot you without killing you.” A speculative note entered his voice, as if he were truly considering it.
Tikaya gripped the bars of her gate, trying to think of something to say to help him. After all, Five had come to her defense.
“ Or we can just beat you into oblivion for the rest of the trip.” Ottotark hooked a punch into Five’s face.
With pistols pointed at his chest, Five could only accept it. Ottotark grabbed his baton and lifted it to deliver more damage.
“ I thought Turgonians were supposed to be brave warriors,” Tikaya blurted. “Abusing someone who can’t fight back is cowardly.”
“ Sew that yap shut, woman. Nobody wants your opinion.” Despite his words, Ottotark lowered the baton and prowled out of the cell. “Let’s go, ugly.”
Five shambled into the corridor. Thick, tangled black hair hung around his cheeks and half way down his back. A matted beard and mustache engulfed the lower half of his face. Torn, faded trousers with ragged hems reached his calves, and a crudely sewn hide vest covered his torso, leaving muscular but lean-too lean-bare arms visible beneath a layer of grime. Shackles bound his wrists before him, and blood trickled from his nose, adding menace to his already savage appearance. Even slumped, head hanging, he stood a half foot taller than Tikaya.
He glanced at her, almost wincing, and she had the impression his state embarrassed him. She met his eyes with a respectful nod. Criminal or not, he was the most obvious person to turn into an ally.