“I knew all was not right,” Menes said, looking at Amelia. “I knew you were more than just a mage. You had a touch of warrior about you, yes?” Menes flicked his eyes at Serena before quickly tapping his chest. “Even I, in Ishaq, have heard of the human the East have found. You were learning Shimokan in Asamaywa, is that right, my anisa?”
Serena swallowed, glancing at Amelia to see her Kanaxai spellwork reforming, covering up the last evidence of her girlfriend’s true identity. It was too late to try to dismiss the discovery as a mistake or false likeness. Menes had seen too much.
As the last strand of golden hair turned dark brown, Amelia looked at her with pleading eyes that screamed, ‘What do I do!?’
Serena took a breath, trying to decide how to handle the situation.
How long had the Arakian harboured his suspicions?
He’d ignored Serena’s order to return to the safety of the Vengeance, following them while they were distracted by the arcwhale. Serena found herself mentally re-evaluating the brazen captain.
He was craftier than he looked.
“Menes,” Serena began, “I—”
“Sayyid Bastet to you,” Menes interrupted, a deep frown on his face. “I have allowed you to call me by my birth name because I thought we were friends, but this”—Menese gestured to Amelia—“is not what friends would do, my sayyidah. Why is she here? Why have you hidden her from me? I am Sayyid Bastet, charged with protecting Ishaq’s skies. You should have told me, Sayyidah Halen.”
The Arakian crossed his arms with clenched fists. His eyes were full of a strange intensity Serena had never seen him display before. Was it… subdued anger? Or something else?
“Orders from Centralis, Sayyid Bastet,” Serena explained, matching his tone of voice. She felt herself take an almost unconscious step, placing herself slightly between Amelia and the heavily scarred Arakian. “She’s travelling with us to better integrate with demon society and continue her own training. You must have heard and now seen what she is capable of. The big horns want her in disguise so as not to cause chaos wherever she goes. I trust we have your discretion in this matter?”
“Hmm…” Menes grumbled. “Trust…”
Serena nodded, taking a step forward. “Let’s find Acting-Captain Voss and return to the ship before the arcwhale—”
“I don’t trust you, my sayyidah,” Menes said, shaking his head.
Serena paused, narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“I don’t trust you,” Menes repeated. “Or the words you speak.” The Arakian held Serena’s gaze with cool yellow irises. “I would like to know the true reason she is coming to Ishaq.” As the demon spoke, Serena didn’t miss the subtle shifting of his weight and the slight puffing of his chest. “What I am asking,” he said, “is does the overlord know of her travels?”
Menes’s tone had darkened, and Serena sensed that hiding deep beneath his question was the subtle whispering of violence. She bristled, glaring at Menes while slightly turning her body. She moved her sword hand so it rested on her uniform’s belt. “Menes,” she said, confident the Arakian would back down. Despite his size, the orange aura he was capable of manifesting fell short against her yellow, let alone her Narean. “What did you call me when we first met?”
Menes tilted his head. “My sayyidah?” he asked with a note of confusion.
“You called me a proper officer,” Serena said, using her left hand to tap her chest. “And a proper officer like myself acts properly. That includes sharing only what is necessary to satisfy my duties. If you want to be my friend, you should know not to ask such questions.”
“I am not asking as a friend!” Menes snarled, his annoyance on full display. “I am asking as a sayyid of Saladin the Mighty, Protector of the Lands of the Red Moon and those blessed to be born under its moonlight!” Menes puffed out his chest even more, pointing an accusatory finger at Amelia and continuing, “They say she stole Suijin from us! She should not come to the South! The desert tasalsul will be in uproar! And now you challenge me for wanting the truth? As if I am at fault? How could I not do my due di—” Menes stopped momentarily before trying again. “My due dill—”
“Due diligence?” Amelia piped up.
“Yes!” Menes said, not losing his stride. “I am not satisfied by your explanation! You must let me do my due diligence, my sayyidah!”
“You can do so later,” Serena snapped, jerking a thumb into the open sky where the arcwhale continued to retreat. For now. “This is neither the time nor the place. We’re on a forsaken rock in one of the worst places in the Known World. I’m not going to entertain your protests anymore, Menes. Either as a friend or a sayyid. Now…” Serena moved her right hand onto the hilt of her sword. “Are you going to get back on the ship or am I going to need to carry you myself?”
Menes breathed in sharply. His jaw clenched, and the muscles in his neck tightened.
“You will not answer? You leave me no choice, my sayyidah,” he intoned, his voice laced with determination. The Arakian shifted his weight, dropping his hands along with his centre of gravity. “We must settle this in the manner Ishaq warriors settle disputes.”
Serena felt the corner of her mouth curl.
He wanted to fight her?
She would welcome the opportunity to put the man in his place. She wouldn’t kill him, of course. No matter what, Menes was a Cascadian Lord and Serena had no intention of causing a catastrophic diplomatic incident between their two Terra-Firmas. As much as her tolerance and respect for him had been increasing lately, she’d always regretted not giving him the beating his former attitude deserved.
“Wait a second!” Amelia protested.
“Make your choice, Menes,” Serena challenged, squeezing the hilt. “I’m ready.”
What would he do? Given his stance, it appeared like he planned to rush her and take her to the ground. Serena would be ready for anything.
“My choice?” Menes growled. The Arakian squeezed his hands so tight his knuckles turned white. “My choice is…” His hands shook from the effort, and then, without any further warning, Menes threw his hands up dramatically as if reaching for the sky.
Serena flared her aura.
“Hot springs!” he roared, his words carrying to the skies with the fire and fury of one of the Vengeance’s broadsides.
Serena froze with her sword half-drawn.
Menes made no further action.
Fucking hells, she thought. He’s gone mad.
“Menes…” Serena said slowly, keeping her senses sharp. “What in the Seven Hells are you—”
“Hot springs!” Menes exclaimed confidently, bringing his arms down and crossing them as if he’d just given the most normal explanation to the most normal question ever posed by anyone, ever.
“...Hot springs?” Serena queried.
“Yes,” the Arakian affirmed. “Hot springs.”
“Oh!” Amelia chirped. “Hot springs!” Amelia bounced on her feet. “Hot springs!”
“Menes,” Serena said flatly. “Explain.”
“Mmm,” Menes hummed. “It is the Ishaqian way. We are civil with our disputes. When two warriors cannot agree, they must share a hot spring until they reach an accord. Neither may leave until a resolution is reached, yes? No matter how long, my sayyidah.”
“Are you… pulling my horn?” Serena asked, unable to tell if the demon was messing with her or not. “Is this a jest?”
Menes shook his head, his face solemn. “I swear on the Red Moon, my sayyidah. This is the Ishaqian way. This is what we must do if we cannot reach an agreement. If you refuse, I will find Saladin myself and inform him of what is sneaking into his territory, yes?”
“Christ…” Serena mumbled under her breath. She slowly resheathed her sword, relaxing her posture. “We will… discuss this further. I don’t know if I could handle being in a hot spring with you, Menes Bastet.”
“Then you will be motivated to come to an agreement quickly, my sayyidah,” Menes said, his voice losing its edge and returning to his normal brazen confidence. “But you will want to stay, I know it. Women love our hot springs. They are legendary! Lords from Centralis travel to Ishaq just to use them. They will heal you of all your worries, my sayyidah.”
“Can I join!?” Amelia suddenly asked. “I’ve never been in a hot spring!”
“Oh!” Menes’ eyes widened. “You must come as well, my anisa. Or…” The demon frowned, chewing his words for a moment before asking, “Should I call you sayyidah now? You are also a lord, is that right?”
“Just a prospect,” Amelia replied happily. “For now,” she added, giving Serena a quick wink.
Serena faced Menes. “I’ll appreciate it if you could refrain from sharing this with your crew,” she requested.
“Hmm…” The Arakian rubbed his chin, looking between Amelia and Serena. “This I can do, but only if there is no more disrespect from you, my sayyidah, and…” Menes turned and tilted his head in an almost apologetic way to Amelia, “...and no more stealing from you, my anisa.”
I should have just stabbed him, Serena thought.
“Very… well…” Serena replied, forcing the words out. Her senses tickled her, and she turned towards the Vengeance to see Finella and Mel running over to them. “We have company,” Serena said, pointing out the new arrivals.
“Captain!” Finella skidded to a stop with a quick salute. “Arcwhale’s retreating out of aetherscope range. Whatever, uh”—Finella’s eyes flicked to Amelia and then to Menes—“you did, it seemed to work. Lucky it did, eh? Rather not have Rhaknam twisting our horns in the future, right?”
“Menes knows about the disguise,” Serena said flatly.
“Oh?” Finella raised an eyebrow at the Arakian, who nodded in response. “Oh,” Finella said again, facing Serena. “Trouble?”
“Not yet,” Serena said coolly, throwing a low-level glare at Menes, who shrugged it off. “Any problems with the ship?” she asked Finella. “Did the magic disrupt operations?”
“Anathor said there was a disturbance, but nothing more. I think the island shielded us from the majority of it. Captain…” Finella stepped closer, lowering her voice. “What in the Purple Moon was that at the end? The aetherscope picked up, well, I don’t know what it picked up. I couldn’t match it to anything. Was it… a Word?”
“Don’t worry yourself about it, Officer Bright,” Serena replied, shutting down the inquisitive Sensors officer. “Take yourself and Officer Mori and retrieve Acting-Captain Voss. Whatever state he’s in, bring him aboard. You might need to use some force. His spirit failed him.”
“Aye, Captain!” Finella and Mel called out, saluting quickly. As they left, Amelia piped up that she would help, and Menes quickly followed and offered his assistance. Suppressing a sigh, Serena decided to join them as they investigated the small island for the hiding demon.
It didn’t take them long to find the man. He was almost catatonic, but Serena decided not to risk any altercation and simply had Amelia use a Kanaxai sleep spell to put the quivering demon to sleep. Now that Menes knew Amelia’s Lia Liona identity was a disguise, he would know she would have talent in Kanaxai’s branch. Therefore, Serena wasn’t concerned about letting him see Amelia cast a low-level sleep spell.
Although Menes’ attitude had just been tense and combative, he was now cheerfully chatting to Amelia with Alaric thrown over one shoulder. Serena led the way back to the ship, keeping her ears focused on their conversation.
“Legend has it that once two great warriors stayed in the water for a month, each one too proud to speak first!” Menes laughed before continuing, “They only reached an accord when their wives threatened to run away! Ha!”
“Are they communal baths?” Amelia asked.
“Communal?”
“Mmm! Like… everyone shares the same one.”
“Yes, but there are private ones as well, my anisa.”
“Oh! That’s good!”
Serena sensed Amelia looking at her back. She didn’t need to think for a second to know what kind of scandalous activities her girlfriend was thinking of. Honestly! Here they were, in the shattered and tumultuous skies of the Southern Passage, only having just avoided possible destruction at the hands of an arcwhale, and Amelia was thinking about that.
Like Aiden, she was just incorrigible, wasn’t she?
“In the last few years, the council has changed the springs,” Menes explained. “Now, there are steam engines that drive air into the water, making it sort of…” He trailed off and Serena threw a quick glance back to see the demon mocking the motion of frothing water. “Sort of bubble up.”
Amelia produced a happy squeak.
“I know exactly what you’re on about!” she said excitedly. “I can’t wait!”
Serena rolled her eyes. She crossed the gangway and turned, gesturing to the group.
“Take him to Hillbrand, Menes.”
“The doctor?” Menes’ eyes twinkled as he gave her a wink. “Aye, my sayyidah.”
“Show him the way, Finella.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” Finella responded. As she passed Serena, they exchanged a look.
Ah, that was right.
Serena needed to talk with Finella about everything the inquisitive demon had uncovered regarding Amelia’s embodiment of both Asclepius and Suijin. She didn’t doubt the demon’s loyalty; Serena only wanted to give her some extra encouragement to keep her lips sealed and her horns down.
Then Mel came past, who, for some reason, had reddened cheeks.
And lastly, Amelia stepped onboard, her dark brown hair waving softly in the Passage winds. Amelia gave her a cheeky grin before opening her mouth and excitedly mouthing the words ‘Hot springs!’
As much as she tried, Serena failed to completely hide a smile.
She would push through this blasted sky and make it to Ishaq. With any luck, they would have some free time to explore these private, air-pumped hot springs. It would be a fair and just reward for putting up with Menes and everything else that had happened and would happen.
Feeling a little better, Serena turned and headed inside.
It was time to get out of this place.
Serena leaned back in her captain's chair, resting her head against her hand. She tapped her horns in rhythm with the thumping of the ship’s lift engine, thinking about what to write.
In front of her was one of the many variations of report forms she had tucked away in her shelves. This particular one was one she’d last filled out in the skies north of Kenhoro. It was an arcwhale encounter form, and unlike last time, she had to choose her words especially carefully.
Explaining why she ordered a killing shot to be fired at an arcwhale was difficult, but only because she knew this report would likely find its way into the hands of the Dragon and House Halen’s opponents. She had to leave as little room for interpretation as possible and be absolutely clear that her orders and decisions could not have been anything else.
After all, in a matter of months, she was going to become a commodore.
She couldn’t be anything less than perfect in her conduct.
Well, as perfect an Imperial officer could be while a particular bundle of chaotic blonde energy was bouncing around them, causing incomprehensible changes in the order of the Known World.
After tapping out the rhythmic music of the lift engine for another minute on her horns, Serena sighed and put the pen down. She couldn’t quite put her mind to the task of paperwork right now. Too many concerns clouded her mind and many of them, including the Arakian sayyid and his clever discoveries, the search and rescue of the remains of the Myrmidon, and the reports and encounters they’d had with the pirates so far, all required their own mountain of paperwork.
If she knew how much paperwork there was in military life, she might well have chosen to stay as a squad commander under the previous captain.
Well, not that she had that much choice. The ship had chosen her to serve as its captain, after all. As Anathor had told her at the time, ‘There is no other candidate but you’
Speaking of…
“Anathor.”
“Yes, Captain,” Anathor responded after a short moment, the glassy eyes of the stuffed moose head glowing in tune with his words.
“Anything from the Shattered Isles?”
“Nothing unusual, Captain.”
“Good.”
After leaving the island, Serena had ordered Dagon to bring the ship up to full speed, willing to risk burning through large quantities of crystal to get away from the Shattered Isles sooner rather than later, lest a pod of arcwhales come hunting for them after Amelia’s stunt. While full speed wasn’t quite as powerful as the death-defying, horns-to-the-wall, flank speed, it was still—depending on how thin the air was—a healthy forty to fifty knots that kept the engines hungry and Allston and his niece on their toes.
After securing more assurances from Menes regarding his discretion, and Serena herself reaffirming her own assurance that she would, if needed, settle things the Ishaqian Way, the Arakian captain seemed satisfied and volunteered to assist the kitchen staff, helping cook hot food and pour drinks for the rescued sailors.
With him gone, Amelia didn’t need any encouragement before she began healing the sleeping Acting-Captain. Once Amelia was confident she’d done enough, they’d left the demon to wake up naturally in his own time. Serena had returned to her quarters in an attempt to do paperwork. Through monitoring the ship with Anathor, Serena learned that Amelia—after smothering Romulus with affection and love in a manner that definitely didn’t make Serena envious—had caught up with Menes, looking to also offer her assistance in the kitchen.
No doubt her idiot girlfriend just wanted more descriptions of the Ishaqian hot springs to fuel whatever fantastical imagery she was constructing in her mind.
Not that Serena wasn’t doing something similar. It was hard being so close to each other each night and not being able to… let loose. On account of Anathor’s presence, Serena and Amelia had only allowed themselves small acts of affection. A hug here, a peck on the cheek there, and occasionally the brazen kiss when Amelia was feeling particularly cheeky.
But Serena had become accustomed to so much more.
It was rather… frustrating.
Love is difficult, Serena thought.
Anathor’s coarse voice interrupted her musings. “Quartermaster incoming,” the formless announced.
“Ahem.” Serena cleared her throat, trying to think only of things a perfect Imperial Captain would think of.
War.
Duty.
And the Empress—Wait, not the Empress, damn it!
Tsk! Serena clicked her tongue, pushing away the memories of a certain dirt-rubbing event from her mind. “Come in!” she called, just as Tomes’ footsteps sounded from outside the door, her voice laced with annoyance at her own mental state.
Her quartermaster entered with a hesitant expression. “...Captain?” he queried. “Now a good time?”
“Yes, Tomes,” Serena said, straightening her posture and waving the quartermaster in. “Come in. Is everyone processed?”
“Aye, Captain.” Tomes positioned himself in front of Serena’s desk and lightly coughed. “Fifty-one pairs of horns identified and verified by yours truly. Fifty-one survivors. Fifty-two if we count the peeka.”
“Fifty-two…” Serena mused. “They lost more than half.”
“Aye.” Tomes nodded. “I stopped by the mess hall on the way here. It’s a mix. Some are celebrating, eating their fill and drinking happily, while others are barely touching the food, sitting in silence.”
“Not all men will grieve the same. Give them time, but make sure they eat.”
“Aye, Captain.” Tomes tapped his notebook, asking, “What’s the plan regarding the injured? Is Miss Liona going to step in there?”
Amelia had done well resisting her natural urge to blast away people's pain with her titanic healing magic, but Serena knew that resistance wouldn’t likely last until they reached Ishaq. Serena wouldn’t deny Amelia if she truly wanted to heal them, so she needed to find a way to allow Amelia to discreetly heal almost a dozen badly injured demons and not immediately give the game away that there was a healer onboard. Or at the very least, a way to convince her girlfriend to wait.
Ah.
That would work, wouldn’t it?
Serena felt herself smile. Amelia would become the solution to herself.
“I’ll figure something out,” Serena replied. “Speaking of Miss Liona…” Serena went on to explain Menes and how he stuck his horns in and discovered Amelia’s identity.
“The Ishaqian Way, eh?” Tomes said. He took off his spectacles and slowly cleaned them. “I don’t think he’s pulling your horn. I remember hearing something about that in the Kurnal barracks. Actually, that story Menes said about the two warriors refusing to leave first? That might have been the same story I heard. Didn’t believe it at the time, though.”
“Oh?” Serena raised an eyebrow, her lips curling. “Perpetual hot spring battle not the way you settle things in Wami territory, Tomes?”
Her quartermaster chuckled. Slipping his spectacles back on, Tomes formed a pair of fists and tapped his knuckles together, saying, “This is how things are settled between men around the Stormpeaks. Ishaqian culture is as foreign to you as it is to me, Captain. But… now I think about it”—Tomes quickly shrugged—“doesn’t seem like such a bad way to settle disputes. World could do with less fighting, I reckon.”
“Believe me, I’d rather challenge Saladin for his position over bathing with that man,” Serena mused, prompting another chuckle from Tomes. “I’m surprised he knew about her training at the academy,” she said. “At first, I thought he might have some personal interest, but then I remembered his wife is Nefetari Bastet. Perhaps his information is gathered second-hand from her political campaign against the East.” Serena couldn’t resist clicking her tongue. “Can you believe not only do they accuse us of stealing Suijin but they also accuse Amelia of being the one to embody him!”
Serena shook her head, putting on an act of disbelief. She acted casual, but her senses stayed sharp, watching Tomes’ reaction to her words. She wanted to know if her Quartermaster, the smartest demon in her crew, had managed to connect the same dots Finella had been able to.
“You know the South, Captain,” Tomes answered smoothly. “Or rather, you’ll come to know the South, and the pride they take in their ancestry. Before our time, much of the Red Sands was a vast tropical paradise…” Tomes spread his arms, as if trying to encompass the desert itself. “Due to the previous overlord keeping the reservoirs full. Saladin—may the Red Moon light his way—may not have been able to continue the tradition, but the South hasn’t forgotten their past or their heritage”
Serena sighed softly. Was Tomes good at acting, or had he not realised the extent of Amelia’s true power? She knew he had suspected she might be capable of the Second-Word before, a line of thinking she’d quickly shut down, but had it stayed in his mind and festered into something more?
She’d have to keep an eye out.
“If our Arakian friend does let things slip…” Tomes said, “how bad is it, really? Would an overlord care that much for—excuse my words, Captain—for only a Lord-Prospect? Even one that’s been making as many headlines in the broadsheets as she has. Saladin is known for being hands-off regarding the Southern Tasalsul.”
Tasalsul. The Southern word for the collective hierarchy of Southern Cascadian Lords. It sounded strange spoken with Tomes’ Wami accent.
“I’m only worried how much things might escalate if he orders her to leave the South. It would make executing our duties all the more difficult, and cause a diplomatic incident with the East.” Serena resumed tapping her horns in thought. While they were travelling with the backing of Centralis Intelligence, they weren’t officially sailing with an Imperial mandate and the legal protections that came with it. The Vengeance was, on paper, undertaking a training deployment. If the Southern Overlord expelled them then it would require direct intervention from the Empress herself to overrule him.
“I’ve heard he’s rarely seen these days, choosing to spend most of his time travelling with his sperehand tribe across the desert,” Tomes offered. “It’s not easy to receive an aethergram on the Red Sands. He may not even be reachable for months, Captain.”
“Mmm,” Serena hummed. “Maybe his carefree attitude will save us even if Menes tries to contact him. Not that I plan to let that happen. I’ll find a way to satisfy our Arakian friend’s concerns. Maybe I’ll lock him and Amelia in a room together. Knowing her, she’ll secure his loyalty by being her usual ridiculous self.”
They both laughed at that.
“Small word of advice, Captain,” Tomes said. “Southerners might take offence to you calling Saladin carefree. He might not be venerated as much in Kurnal and Talik, but the further South you go, the more he’s loved.”
“You said he’s hands-free.”
“But not careless.” Tomes shook his head. “I’ve heard rumours he’s looking for something in the desert. A way to restore the old waters. An ancient power to challenge the Empress. A way to commune the Third-Word. Whatever it is, it’s important enough to require an overlord’s attention.”
An ancient power?
Could it be…? Serena thought.
A shard?
No. It was too much of a coincidence.
Or was it? Recently Serena had started to feel like she was deep in a spider’s web, surrounded by strings that connected her and Amelia to a growing set of events that were shaking up the status quo in the Empire and the world beyond.
Were they heading to the South to assist the overlord, or were they going to be competing with him?
And how did the Blackhorn factor into all of this?
“Captain?”
“Sorry, Tomes. Lots on my mind.” Serena gave herself a mental slap. “Anathor, strike up a conversation with Menes when he’s alone. Remind him that you’re always listening.” Once Anathor confirmed her orders, Serena turned to Tomes and said, “It’s about time I had a look at the information and sketch the late Captain Durval made of the Chameleon. Go to Medical and wake Alaric for me, Tomes. Explain where he is and bring him here.”
“Aye, Captain,” Tomes said.
“And Tomes…?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“That notebook.” Serena nodded to the notebook Tomes had used to write his report. “Is that the one Amelia gifted you?”
“Ah, no, Captain.” Tomes rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m saving it for something more worthy than mere reports.”
“If she doesn’t see you using it, she’ll think you don’t like it, Tomes,” Serena explained. “Make sure to use it for all your reporting for the next week, and make sure she sees you using it, and the pen too. That’s an order, Quartermaster.”
“...Aye, Captain.” Tomes saluted, a guilty expression on his face.
“Dismissed.”
After Tomes left her office, Serena let herself relax into her chair, feeling a faint sense of satisfaction creep up within her.
No matter how much was on her mind, Serena would always find time to be a good girlfriend.