Siapa
The tiny cog juggled under the omnipotent hands of the river Bronkher. Her middle was swollen, and the priest had said, and as much as she had judged, that she was three-four months from birth. The journey she had set forth on would have to be short.
She remembered the moments before sunrise when the sky was laden in a soft magenta as she had set foot in this cog a fortnight ago. She had left silently so that no one would notice her departure; to aid her cause she had left a look-alike at her estate and, one week before leaving, she had started keeping to her room only occasionally stepping out. Thus, the look-alike would also stay in her room and come out rarely so that there was a smaller chance of being noticed and it wouldn't even seem suspicious if her look-alike appeared outside infrequently.
Now she was arriving at the mouth of the river Bronkher, precisely two weeks later, to another sunrise. The sun had shifted very slightly towards the north in two weeks, she noticed, as the yellow chariot of fire started etching its trail of flames against the gentle blue sky while radiating billions of shafts of light to illuminate the entire sky.
She was about to enter the ocean of Cobardon. Flying fishes, as she knew them, burst out of the river's surface in hundreds behind her, migrating with the turn in season. She and another sailor, male, who she had trusted to bring with her, stood up in the boat to observe the spectacle. The second trusted sailor, this one female, was sleeping at one end of the boat, missing the opportunity, and Siapa considered waking the sailor up. At that moment she realised for the first time that the sailor and she both had auburn hair, though the sailor's hair was more like the colour of copper. Most probably dyed, she deemed. The key difference was that she had long, curling hair whereas the sailor had had medium-length, straight hair. Ah, she yearned for such straight hair.
She shook her head, no time for such pettiness she reminded herself, and returned to observing the marvel. The fishes had semi-circular, midnight blue scales that were adorned in their lower halves. Their fins seemed uncannily strong though they were only a finger long; the fish itself was slightly larger than her palm.
A sound and a minute change in the breeze attracted her attention to the west. Two warships, three streamlined galleys and one Merchants Nava headed towards her. She smiled; he had come to aid on time. Siapa commanded the sailor to head the ship slightly to the north of the river and then dock at the coast.
The sun was glaring at her back, making her sweat profusely. The warship was anchored few tens of metres away from the coast and she watched with amusement as the large man was sailed towards the coast by two exhausted oarsmen, both had their tongues out, on a tiny boat that seemed undersized under the man's size. The scene was almost comical. The boat finally clambered on the shore and the man placed a foot wearing moccasin on the shore and then pushed up and stood on the coast. The two sailors also trudged out, dying with lethargy. As the man approached her, the sun in his face.
"Hello Benz!" she announced as Benz arrived.
Benz smiled at her and said with excitement, "I have so much to tell you." "Me too," she replied. "Well we shall talk in my warship, Soulcrusher's cabin," he declared and gestured towards the small boat he had arrived in. The two oarsmen's face displayed poorly concealed anger. Benz turned around and asked the two with an amicable tone, "Do you both have any problem?" They shook their heads wearily in a 'no'. Benz laughed and said, "Don't worry I will paddle one oar and you both can alternate the other." With that both their faces lit up.
Siapa turned towards her two sailors. She had travelled quite some time with them, yet she had not expected that farewell would be so hard. Her mind with strong emotions and her tongue aching to deliver her heartfelt sorrow on departure, she restrained herself and merely saluted. The two sailors saluted in return. It was a silent passing of feelings and she could see her sorrow being reciprocated in her two sailor's faces too, yet both had enough self-control to express their emotions no further. They would make great soldiers, she realised, and maybe even great assassins with enough training. With that, she turned sharply and marched towards the modest boat to take her to the warship Soulcrusher. Soulcrusher, she mused, now that is a name to strike terror to hearts and be a fountain of rumours.
The dance of the ocean was near negligible in the large ship's cabin. She sat relaxed on a leaning chair, hearing to Benz retell the uncanny rediscovery of 'Makhri's Blessing' in scrupulous detail. "…The souls had been broken, wrecked, shattered. They had been 'crushed'. At that moment I knew what the ship was to be named: Soulcrusher!" Siapa had become completely relaxed in Benz's presence. "Aye," Siapa replied in the sailor's slang. A smile spread up both their faces. "Reminds me of the old days – you, me, Sabrina all naive and innocent, dreaming of glory. Those years in Dom's palace's gardens were golden. We all three were equally close. Well, at least until Sabrina was betrothed to Lashkar. But, not delving on those sour memories…" "No, no. It was years ago. I have buried that hatch. Yet, the wound never fully healed. I and my sister have never been that close since. Anyway, would flesh out your plan to me now."
"I mean to head north to Morningstar to meet Sabrina," Siapa began. Benz said with a grim face, "That much I had guessed but then what." "I will ask her to join the rebellion from brother Orwen's side." "Oh, yeah. I didn't tell you. I had come from the Eye as Merisa convinced my father to side with Orwen. Quite a powerful speech my betrothed gave." "That is great news. Yet, Orwen still needs support from the north to exact his revenge for my niece. Also, Dupark also has been won and Napemol has been crushed. Taperend is dead." "What!" Benz said, shock broadcasted in every possible way, "Taperend … dead? That doesn't seem right. Or likely." "It is the truth," Siapa said, her mouth drawn in a tight line.
The talk abruptly died and fell in an uneasy silence. After a minute Siapa began, "You remember the night when we had talked about …" "… how weird it would be if we two married," Benz completed the sentence. "Though I hadn't thought marrying you, I had not at all thought of marrying Micura. Do you remember the first time I had commented on him?" she asked. "Yes. Verbatim actually," he said with a smile, "You had said, 'You saw Micura? He is such a tail to Orwen, a bootlicker actually'." "Okay. I was a little mean back then." "A little?" Benz asked with a smirk. "A lot," she accepted. Her voice was filled with joyous energy that came from friendly bantering. "Anyway," Siapa muttered, her voice losing its vigour, turning slightly sad from recollecting all those cherished memories now faded like old pictures yet even more precious, "I remember I had been enraged when I had been betrothed to Micura. I had even thought of running away. Yet, I didn't and then I and Micura started meeting, more and more often with time. We slowly grew into each other and then one day, though we were already betrothed, he proposed to me. At that moment, I felt I had a choice and had not been forced to marry. And I chose to marry him. It was out of a dream, now that I think." "Aye."
Though the memories were priceless, recollecting them had turned the atmosphere gloomy. To lighten the mood, Benz said, "Though compared to me, you still had chosen an adjustment." Siapa laughed and said, "Those very lines you had said before tilting against Micura in the tourney at Wingbearer. You had lost to him, so had my brother Orwen. Oh, the satisfaction I had gotten from the look on both of your faces. Trevan had one that tourney, however, by defeating Micura." "Ah, you murmur the gossip that echoes every through every single gentry in Cobardon after each tourney. It is mostly those two who are facing each other at the end," Benz added and then asked, "Who do you think is the better? Answer honestly." Siapa thought for a moment then answered, "Micura without any use of magic. With magic, I do not know. A few years back I would have said Trevan but Micura has been practising to more fluently and cunningly imbue magic into his combat." "And so has Trevan, without doubt," Benz interjected. "Thus, I said, I don't know. Tourneys have been sparse since the last few years. The political atmosphere always tensed. And in the few tourneys that have happened Trevan and my husband haven't come head-to-head."
"I guess we will learn the answer one day," Benz surmised and Siapa nodded. "Anyway, we spent quite a while gossiping and recollecting. Now it is time for departure if I am to stay in par with my schedule," Siapa said. She tried to get up, the action demanding extra effort due to the extra life she carried within. Benz lend her a hand and Siapa muttered, "Talking with you I almost forgot I was pregnant." Benz chuckled and lead her out while saying, "And I forgot the political tensions."
He said, "The galleys are quick, and you shall make it to the coast near Barren Lands within a week. The Merchant Nava is small, to avoid suspicion once you leave the open sea and enter any river as heads all around that river will turn at the sight of such galleys. The Nava is also fast so there won't be a delay."
"Thank you," Siapa said, "I will always owe you. Yet, I need one more favour. Don't tell Micura about this." Bafflement trickled into his face. He asked with astonishment, "Micura doesn't know this?" "Of course, he doesn't. Do you think he will let his 6-month pregnant wife venture out?" "I too had been against the idea of you travelling so far while pregnant but I had kept them to myself, thinking that if you or Micura had no problem with this then I had no right to express them. Now, I do, at least as a friend. You shouldn't go. The child is yours and Micura's. You alone should not have made the decision nor, further, hide it. You put not just yours but also the child's life at risk," Benz blurted out. "Condemn me then but I am making this journey whether you like it or not," she snapped at him fiercely. Unvoiced thoughts raced through her mind, I can't take any chance with Orwen or Micura's life – they should at least have the upper hand in numbers, and I will make sure that by giving them the host of Morningstar. There was a silent battle of will as they stared into each other's eyes with determination. Finally, Benz relented and muttered, "You seem adamant about this journey. Then make it. But I will not hide it if Micura asks it nor will I keep my mouth shut even if Micura and I are in the same room." "I can live with that," she uttered and turned around to leave.
Guilt hit her. She did not want to sour her relations with Benz. She turned back and saw him standing still there. She said softly, "I will leave when you are alright with it." Benz seemed taken aback by her words. She had half-expected it. Benz said with slight anger, "You are no slave. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks, you should do at the end what you deem right. No one has any right to even try to depart control over you." "Benz, it won't matter what others say. Yet, what Micura, Orwen, Sabrina and you say matters to me," she explained. "Fine. You have already heard my opinion. But remember what we were taught, listen to everyone but act on what you feel is correct." Siapa nodded to that. She knew that she had healed things with Benz before it would become irreversible.
She had made her decision! She spun round and headed towards the boat that would take her to the galley that would take her to Morningstar yet then where she would go, she knew not. Nobody does, she realised.
It was a lesson she would need greatly when the time came.
ns 15.158.61.55da2
