Her shoulders twitched, her gaze snapping from the direction Tibal had taken, back to Ripka. “Dear girl, do not attempt to soothe me on his behalf. I will discover my nephew’s intentions in due time.”
“I have evidence of his loyalty to you with me, now, on the Larkspur. He arranged for the rescue of Nouli Bern, the engineer who built the Century Gates of Valathea, from the Remnant prison – and has entreated him to serve for Hond Steading’s defense.”
A curl tipped up the corner of her lips. The same crooked smile Detan put on before he was about to tell a particularly large lie. “My nephew did all of that?”
“He arranged for it.”
She shook her head, smile locked in place. “I see. Well, it is something, at least. Bring this Master Bern to me and I will arrange rooms for him. I suppose he needs a workshop and materials?” Ripka nodded. “Very well. Though I cannot see how much help he will be on the balance.”
“He has intimate knowledge of many machines of war, and Commodore Ganal’s tactics.”
“I’m sure he does, my dear, but Valathea comes to Hond Steading’s aid. His efforts will be appreciated, in concert with theirs.”
Ripka’s throat went dry. “What do you mean?”
“A delegation from Valathea arrives tonight to discuss the city’s defense.”
“Those people tortured your nephew.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, hot with anger. Pelkaia cleared her throat, and Ripka realized she’d taken a step forward without meaning to.
Dame Honding’s head jerked back, her eyes narrowed. “I respect your work, Captain Leshe, but Hond Steading is not your city to protect. It is mine. This is an era of alliances. One cannot stand alone on the Scorched. Not with Thratia Ganal running wild across it.”
Chapter Five
Monsoon season made its presence known with a toothy growl. Sticky winds rocked the transport ship Aella had commandeered for their travel, pitching the deck to and fro. Detan hunkered by the cabins, his ass on the deck and his back shoved against the wall, head in his hands. He wasn’t sure what was more nauseating, the buck of the ship or the incompetence of the pilot.
“It’s not that bad,” Misol said. She leaned her back against the deck-rail with her elbows propped up on it, head tipped back to feel the full extent of the winds. Droplets of moisture collected on her bald head, making it gleam. Not a hint of green marred her cheeks, the bitch.
“Trust me, it’s worse when you know everything the pilot is doing wrong.”
“Didn’t think you had a perfectionist nature.”
“My dear woman, there are some disciplines in which I will not put up with sloppiness: the piloting of airships, the brewing of ale, and making love to women.”
“What about making love to men?”
“Haven’t yet had the pleasure.”
“Pity for you.” She picked at her teeth with one thick thumbnail. “Too bad you skipped dinner. Aella may not be much for domestics, but the girl can cook.”
“Of course she can. How else would she know what meals pair best with which poisons?”
“Aww, she’s not that bad, either.”
“You weren’t the one tied to a ceiling with a bag over your head.”
“Not my fault my deviation doesn’t require that sort of training, and it ain’t Aella’s fault either. You don’t like what you gotta do, blame yourself.”
“I hardly see how it’s my fault.”
“Don’t you?” Misol whistled low and slow, then shook her head. “I know you’re not stupid, but sometimes I wonder if you might be blind. You think Aella had to wrap me up in chains to get me to figure out how to make my face look like a man’s?”
“I’m not exactly free here, Misol.”
She snorted. “Sure you are. Got that crap in your veins leashing you, but both Aella and I figure you could probably whip up your own brew if you really put your mind to it. It’s not to keep you close, anyway, it’s more to help you with your training. Skies above, you think I’m watching you because we’re afraid you’ll run? I’m just along to be an extra set of hands – and keep an eye on Forge and Clink, now. Aella’s got no worry you’ll bolt.”
“If I left–”
“She’d do what? Hunt down that little friend of yours? Girl’s got no time for that bullshit. She’d come after you, sure, but she’d come with an offer in hand and it wouldn’t be chains. She wants you compliant. Makes it easier when she’s got to rile you up, you know she’s just working to figure out what you can do – not being mean for the sake of it.”
“That girl’s cold as a glacier. You expect me to believe she’s not taking at least a little pleasure in this?”
“Pleasure? Maybe, I don’t know. But if she’s getting any joy out of this it’s not because she’s putting the heat to your toes, it’s because she’s getting answers for once. It was harder for her, trying to pin down her theory when it was just us regular deviants. Not a lot to suss out in people like me and that blue guy. But you? You’re malleable, and quick to change. It’s that quickness that she’s counting on.”
“Took me seven marks to figure out her last puzzle. Ain’t quick by any stretch.”
Misol sighed as if she were trying to explain herself to a particularly slow child. “Stay with me now. You got a temper in you, don’t you? Keep it locked down with jokes and other bullshit but you’ve got a streak in you hotter than a firemount flow. That right?”
He shifted, the scars of his back hot against the wall. “I got a handle on it.”
“More or less. Don’t matter how hard you squeeze it down, it’s still in there. And when you touch sel, if you’re not careful, you make things burn right up with the heat of that anger.
“Now, take me. I’m a doppel, I can change my face around anyway I’d like using sel. All my life I had a hard time trying to decide what I wanted to be. Spent some time farming, some time bartending, and a half dozen other things before I picked up the spear and Aella stumbled across me. Things starting to look clear?”
“Doesn’t hold up. You call yourself a doppel, but that’s Valathea’s word. I knew a woman like you – called herself an illusionist – was Catari through and through. Could do a whole pits-lot more than just change her face, and didn’t have to mess about shaving her head, either. She made the hair she had work.”
Misol whistled again. “Musta’ been real good, and I wonder what her personality was like, but she’s not here to test, so that ain’t the point. Look at Callia. I didn’t know her before her accident, but she’s got a deviation almost as rare as yours. She can do this twisting thing – make anyone manipulating sel feel like it’s perverted, disgusting. She makes it feel like raw corruption, like chugging a flask of rotten water. Now, woman like that musta been a real piece of work when she had her wits about her, but look what it did for her. She survived that poisoning, maybe even thrived from it. There’s not another body alive I know of that could take the dose Aella said Callia consumed and come out the other side alive. It’s like her body welcomed it, sucked it up like a sponge. She’s rotten all through, and thrives on it.”
“I’ll give you that Callia’s rotten, but what about Aella? That girl’s cold as a night is long, but she can’t make sel feel cold. Can only shut it down.”
“You got your metaphor confused with reality there, Honding. She ain’t cold – she’s empty. Cultivates indifference like it’s a sport and she’s its top athlete. Doesn’t feel a damned thing, half the time. You watch her react to something. She always takes an extra beat, this little hesitation while she figures out what reaction she wants to have that’ll get her the result she wants.”