The Kraken King (66 page)
Her brows rose. “For how many?”
Ariq didn’t know. “As many as possible.”
“So you intend to entice them into joining your war with lamb and rice?” Her sharp grin appeared again. “I’ll tell Cook. He’ll have something for you.”
“And the price?”
She glanced at Zenobia. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“When I am not here to talk your price down,” his wife said.
“That is exactly why,” her sister-in-law replied easily before looking to Ariq again. “Both food and the distance we must travel will take several hours. Until then, I suggest that you continue to rest and heal.”
“I have slept enough,” Ariq said.
“But your wife has not slept at all,” she countered. “And I do not think she will without you.”
It was decided, then.
XXX
Zenobia hadn’t thought she would be able to sleep, but within minutes after lying down next to Ariq she slipped away. She woke later to the powerful thrum of the airship’s engines and found Ariq propped up on his elbow, watching her. Hunger burned in his eyes—and although only hours before she’d never been so tired, now she’d never felt more alive. God, when she thought of all that they’d survived—
No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t think of that. Instead she surged up and kissed him, feeding the hunger until need was a sharp blade, but it was the tap at the cabin door that made her want to scream.
Still, she would have ignored it—until Mara called through the door that
Lady Nergüi
was approaching Wajarri territory. So instead of ignoring the knock, she lay groaning pitifully in bed while Ariq dressed. He laughed at her, then kissed her again before leaving the stateroom. She readied more slowly and finally climbed to the upper decks.
Lady Nergüi
was approaching Wajarri territory. So instead of ignoring the knock, she lay groaning pitifully in bed while Ariq dressed. He laughed at her, then kissed her again before leaving the stateroom. She readied more slowly and finally climbed to the upper decks.
Ariq stood near the bow—perhaps searching the territory ahead for landmarks. Zenobia stopped at the top of the companionway and simply watched him.
The white shirt looked odd on his big frame. So thin and flimsy, it provided no resistance against the wind. His tunics were more structured, seemed more contained.
More like Ariq.
Already he moved more easily than he had after waking earlier. Even the lingering bruises had faded almost to nothing, leaving only those shallow furrows beneath his skin. He healed extraordinarily fast. She should have remembered how fast. When he’d first rescued her from the marauders, he’d been shot in the arm—but within a few days, she’d seen him walking naked out of the sea, and not even a mark had remained.
She hadn’t even thought of the bullet wound then, too distracted by all of the skin and muscle on display before her. Now, even though they were covered by the flimsy shirt, she couldn’t stop seeing the beetles burrowing beneath his skin and the crossbow bolts that had slammed into his back when he’d used his body as her shield.
And she could see his worry now. He hadn’t spoken of it. Like his wounds, if she hadn’t known what to look for she might not have seen the traces of it. But she recognized the stillness in him, the tension.
She’d felt the same as she’d waited through the night in the quarantine while he’d “negotiated” with Lady Nagamochi. Helpless anxiety had been a cruel monster in her chest while she’d waited for him, wondering what was happening. Yet the reality had been more horrifying than anything she’d imagined.
She thought Ariq must be feeling the same now—wondering what was happening in his town, fearing the reality might be worse than he knew.
Unless he’d put the fear aside, just as he could put his anger and frustration aside. Zenobia had never been able to—except when she was writing.
She wished she had her notebook now. Snagging a pair of goggles from the store near the ladder, she joined him at the bow.
They weren’t far from Krakentown—only a few hundred miles east—and so she had expected the same flat, arid scrublands surrounding that town. Though there were patches of similar brush and red dirt, this land was far more rugged. An irregular monolith lay to the north, and the landscape rose and fell into crags and ridges. Green trees grew in clumps along a swollen river the color of rust.
“Is that the same river that runs through your town?” The river that dried up every year, until the rains came again.
“No. Though this river feeds into that one.”
And the Wajarri apparently used it to irrigate the land. There was no familiar patchwork of fields, yet signs of cultivation began to appear in circles of turned earth, though she didn’t see any plantings.
And no farmers. A few tall walking machines stood near the river, the balloon heads distinct across the distance. “Where are the houses?”
Ariq pointed to a copse of trees. Frowning, Zenobia glanced at the spyglass in his hand, but he pulled it out of her reach before she could take it. “They would consider it rude,” he said.
Anybody would. But despite her curiosity, they couldn’t afford rudeness now, Zenobia understood. Not when the fate of Ariq’s town might rest in their hands. So she squinted, then her lips parted on a gasp. “They’re not trees!”
“Some of them are.”
Some of them. And the rest were platforms and shelters and bridges. “Is it to avoid the boilerworms?”
Just as almost every building in the mining community of Altun stood on stilts.
“I think so,” Ariq said. “But it might be for concealment, or so that the homes aren’t damaged when the river floods. Maybe some other reason.”
“Is it a full community?”
“Probably a family or a clan. But I don’t know for certain.”
Because the Wajarri preferred to conduct their business with outsiders through a liaison, such as Meeng. Ariq wouldn’t have been invited to any of these communities. “Are we allowed to fly here?”
“Yes. But we would need permission to leave the airship or to hover for any length of time. They rarely give it.”
“Will they give it to you?”
“I won’t ask for it. Meeng would prefer to come up—and if he does, that will be permission enough.”
“Would he— Oh!” She gripped his arm as they flew over another ridge, and suddenly hundreds more trees and walking machines dotted the long, shallow valley laid out before them.
The walking machines weren’t the same as the Nyungar’s, though the balloon head was similar. Shorter, they had sturdier frames—but were still taller than any of the surrounding trees.
She could see figures working the fields now, men or women wearing colorful wraps. Laboring alongside them was a smaller walking machine that resembled a man with a stick, which it pushed through the soil ahead like a plow. Pale dust rose over another field, though most of the ground looked heavy and wet with rain.
Not dust, she realized suddenly. Steam. And in the midst of it, a terrifyingly familiar shape erupted from the ground.
“A boilerworm,” she said, and as another of the monsters appeared beside the first her tongue seemed to shrivel, the words thick. “Boilerworm
s
. Oh, God. Can we help?”
s
. Oh, God. Can we help?”
Ariq caught her wrist as she turned with the intention to find Yasmeen. “They don’t need help.”
“But—”
“Look.”
He steered her back to the rail, where she watched with her heart pounding. The boilerworms circled . . . and circled . . . and circled. Not one of them started for any of the Wajarri working in the fields, and none of the Wajarri were running, though their human bodies must have been warmer than the ground or the air.
Zenobia shook her head. “I don’t understand. Have the Wajarri domesticated them?”
“The worms haven’t been tamed. The Wajarri remove part of the brains, then use the worms to dig. These are being used in the fields, and others to create underground water storage. See?” He traced a path through the air that encompassed an enormous portion of the valley, and she recognized a faint corresponding shape on the ground. “The stored water can be used in the dry seasons—and it keeps other boilerworms away, because the water underground stays cool. So the Wajarri can run the plows and walk safely without worrying that a boilerworm will come up from below.”
At a loss for words, Zenobia could only shake her head again.
Ariq said, “The Wajarri dug out the Skybreaker’s chamber for me in the same way.”
“Using boilerworms?”
“Yes. It would have taken years for me to excavate a chamber of the same size.”
Incredible. And she realized, “Then they already know about the machine?”
He nodded. “I couldn’t have hidden it from Meeng even if I’d wanted to. And now we’ve been seen. I’ll tell Captain Corsair to stop and wait for them.”
How did he know they’d been seen? Zenobia remained at the bow, watching. After a few moments, she realized that many of the walking machines had turned in
Lady Nergüi
’s direction. Others had begun striding toward them.
Lady Nergüi
’s direction. Others had begun striding toward them.
She needed to stop staring. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the rail and turned her back on the approaching machines.
The engines quieted. From below, she heard a bleating goat—and before long, the sound was drowned out by the heavy stomp of the walking machines.
***
Captain Corsair offered her quarters for the meeting with the Wajarri, and the cabin she shared with Zenobia’s brother wouldn’t have been out of place in a palace. Heavy curtains draped the walls and sleeping berth. Silk pillows in brilliant colors were piled around a low table weighed down by a feast. The air was laden with the scent of spiced roasted meats, saffron, and rice.
Meeng offered Ariq a small nod—not just in appreciation of the food, Ariq thought, but because he’d made sure it was available. His friend’s face was otherwise unreadable, as were those of his companions. Two other men had accompanied Meeng aboard, but he hadn’t told Ariq their names—he only called them “the older” and “the younger.”
Only a few words passed between them as they settled around the table. Though at any other time, Meeng would have already been helping himself to a bowl or two, Ariq had expected this new formality. Meeng represented his people’s interests, just as Ariq represented his.
He hadn’t expected that they would eat before talking of anything at all. Never had it been so difficult to push his worry aside, but he forced down every bite, though his stomach seemed scoured raw. They followed with cigarillos, and each puff drew his lungs tighter and tighter.
Finally Meeng asked through a cloud of smoke, “Is the general still in your town?”
“Yes. You left as soon as his men arrived?”
Meeng nodded lazily, but his gaze was sharp. When he replied, he indicated the elder and the younger, though the two other men were not even looking at him or Ariq. “The general was not the man we’d made our agreement with, and I didn’t want to be forced to make another agreement that wasn’t as beneficial to us.”
Because, as the liaison, he would have to honor it. “Thank you.”
Meeng shrugged. “So I awaited your return. You
do
intend to get rid of him?”
do
intend to get rid of him?”
“As soon as I’m able. He wants the machine.”
Meeng’s eyes narrowed. “Do you intend to give it to him?”
“No.” And here was another reason Ariq couldn’t hand it over. The Wajarri knew what they’d allowed into their lands and what lay at their feet. Ariq had told them the machine would slumber, but he couldn’t keep that promise now. “I might have to use it against a Nipponese fleet.”
The other men still weren’t watching them, but now they quit all pretense of paying attention to anything else. They listened intently as Meeng asked, “What will that mean?”
“War. So I have come for your help.”
Meeng’s lazy posture dropped away. He sat up, his back straight and his expression tight. “We will
not
see our men die for you.”
not
see our men die for you.”
“The Nipponese airships are hovering over your territory at the eastern side of my town. Not only flying, but intercepting other ships and threatening them. In
your
territory.”
your
territory.”
His friend’s expression became grave. “If they encroach once, they might again—and the treaties with the Nipponese would be broken. Not only ours, but those of our brothers and sisters.”
The other tribes and clans all considered their relationship with the Nipponese as one, so that the massacres and wars of centuries past wouldn’t be repeated. In that respect, just one tribe was powerful enough that even the empress would step lightly in her dealings with them.
“I don’t want you to fight,” Ariq told him. “I don’t believe the Nipponese would risk endangering the treaties, either—but they might risk it if you aren’t there to see how they’ve stepped over your territory. They might believe there is no danger in what you don’t know. Even
you
cannot see an airship’s footprint.”
you
cannot see an airship’s footprint.”
His friend appeared irritated by that observation, but he only grunted a response, indicating that Ariq should continue.
“Your presence should force them away from the eastern side of town. If it does, I’ll only have to fight on one side.”
Meeng nodded. “So that you do not have enemies at your back and your front.”
“Yes.”
“Then we will discuss it with the others and tell you of our decision.” Abruptly he stood, followed by the younger and the elder.
“How long?” Ariq asked.
Meeng shrugged. His companions preceded him through the door. In the passageway, Ariq fell into step beside his friend and lowered his voice.
“Will you come?” Ariq thought that Meeng wanted to—he knew the man cared about the fate of the town—but it was not only Meeng’s decision. He would have to persuade the others. Still, one walking machine standing over his town could make all the difference.
“If we arrive, you will know our answer,” Meeng said, and left Ariq stewing in hot frustration.
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