Time's Assassin, page 13
part #3 of The Islevale Cycle Series
A warm autumn wind—rare in these waters, Ujie said—howled over the waves. Tongues of Lighting tasted the sea on all sides.
Thunder rumbled continuously, one clap blending into the next.
The storm posed no danger to them, of course. Ujie dove through the waves with the abandon of a human child, and actually laughed aloud once or twice. Droë clung to her with more urgency than usual, but she enjoyed the rough waters as well. On land she had paid little heed to rain and thunder and wind. She was a creature of the lanes, a predator, and storms drove humans indoors, making hunting more difficult. Other than that, weather meant little to her. Out here, however...
She had never seen anything more beautiful than lightning carving across the sky and igniting clouds from within. She watched the storm, avid, anticipating the next flash, trying to guess where and when it would come. It was fascinating, like the most delicious of riddles.
Thunder roared the first time Ujie spoke the words; Droë didn’t hear her, didn’t even know she had spoken. The Arrokad stopped swimming and faced Droë. She held her afloat with one hand and pointed with the other. Droë stared off in the direction she indicated, squinting in the rain, trying to see over the swells.
Another glimmer of lightning lit the sea. A flicker, no more. But that was enough. Her eyes might not have been as keen as Ujie’s, but she remained a hunter.
“A ship,” she said over the gale and the splatter of rain.
“Yes. They are struggling in the storm. I do not believe they can survive this night without our aid. Shall we go to them, or continue on our way and let them perish?”
She asked this the way she might ask if they should go north or west across an expanse of sea.
“You would let them die?”
Ujie lifted a pale shoulder, silver eyes on the vessel. “I have allowed humans to die in the past. And I have saved others.
Humans die every day. It is not our responsibility.”
“I know.” Droë watched the ship as well. Compared to some vessels she had seen, this one was small—a Kant, she guessed. Her sails were down; oars jutted from her hull. She listed heavily to one side and waves pounded her like fists. Droë wondered if her crew were already dead, washed overboard.
“You wish to save them.” A statement.
“I’m not certain. I’ve never faced such a choice. It seems wrong to let them die if we can prevent it. And yet I wouldn’t hesitate to take the years of one of them, or even all of them over time.”
She faced the Arrokad. “What does that make me?”
“I do not believe it makes you one thing or another. We are Ancients. On occasion we confront moments such as these.” She motioned Droë onto her back. “Let us help them. That seems to be your preference.” She peered back over her shoulder. “They may repay us in some way. Humans can be diverting, for a short while.”
Droë wasn’t sure what Ujie meant, though she had an inkling, one that unsettled her.
They closed the distance to the ship in little more than a spirecount. Upon reaching it, Droë detached herself from the Most Ancient one and together they climbed onto the deck. The ship rolled and bucked, and too late Droë remembered that she didn’t like ships. Experiencing the sea with Ujie didn’t bother her at all, but the vessel’s motion disoriented her.
Men and women of the crew went still at the sight of them. Most had ropes tied around their waists. A few clung to lines that hung from the ship’s rigging. One of the ship’s spars had broken and fallen to the deck, where it punctured the wood.
“Who are you?” one of the sailors finally asked. He was white-haired but straight-backed, tall and hale. Droë guessed that he had many good years left. If he survived this night.
“I am Ujie. This is Droë. We would help you, if you wish it.”
The humans exchanged glances.
“Where is your captain?” the Arrokad asked.
“Gone,” the man said. “Swept away. I was first mate, so I suppose I’m in charge now.”
Ujie didn’t respond, but watched the man, motionless, perfectly balanced, unaffected by the motion of the ship. In that instant, Droë thought her the most captivating being she had ever seen.
“If you can help us...well, we’d be grateful.”
“Very well.” Ujie pivoted, as graceful as a heron. “Droë, I would like you to take the helm and steer the ship after me.”
“After— I don’t understand.”
“I will be in the sea ahead of the vessel. Human eyes are weak.
They will not be able to see me. You will.”
“What will you do?”
“Calm the seas enough to make them navigable. Together we will steer them to an isle. There are a few small ones east of here, near enough, I believe.” To the first mate, she said, “Is this acceptable?”
“I think so. You want us to row?”
“Raising sails in this wind would be inadvisable, would it not?”
The old sailor frowned. “I suppose.”
“I can smooth the sea, or I can ease the wind. I do not believe I can manage both in a storm of this size. Which would you prefer?”
“The sea,” he said without pause.
“Very well. You know what to do?” she asked Droë.
“I think so. I haven’t steered a ship before.”
“It’s not so hard,” the man said. “I’ll show you.”
In short order, Ujie had returned to the waves, Droë had taken hold of the ship’s wheel, and the first mate, whose name was Gaven, had taught her to steer. As he promised, this was not difficult.
Ujie swam ahead of the vessel, her form tiny in the vastness of the sea. Somehow, she smoothed the swells directly in their path, allowing the ship’s crew to row them, despite the storm raging all around. She guided them for the better part of two bells, through rain and wind and those jagged, brilliant streaks of lightning, until, at last, they came within sight of a cluster of small islands. Some were no larger than oversized rocks, under assault by the sea, white with plumes of foam. Others were larger, with small patches of sandy beach and tight copses of wind-bent trees.
Ujie led them through shoals toward one of these. When the ship could go no farther without coming aground, Gaven had sailors lower the anchor and shuttle crew members to the isle on the ship’s small rowboat.
Before long, all were safely on land. Ujie emerged from the water, her steps plodding, her breathing heavy. Droë had never seen her like this, and she hurried to her side, concern squeezing her heart.
“I am all right,” the Arrokad said. “That was not easy, even for one like me.”
Droë led her to the strand, where Gaven waited with the rest of his crew.
“We’re in your debt, Most Ancient One,” he said. None too wisely.
“You acknowledge a debt, human?” Ujie said, raising her eyes to his.
He flinched from her gaze, but he seemed to understand that there was no retreating from what he had said. “I do.”
“Good.” The Arrokad scanned the faces arrayed before her, desire in the look. “We would each choose one of you for sport,” she said. “Payment for what we have done.”
The sailors, soaked and exhausted, traded glances, most of them fearful, a few appearing eager.
“Do not be afraid,” Ujie said. “Whoever we choose shall survive the night, and they will derive much pleasure from it.”
Droë’s face warmed. Qiyed had imparted desire and passion to her, but since that one night, she had not experienced it again. She wasn’t certain she wanted to, at least not with one of these humans.
“Ujie, I’m not—”
The Most Ancient One silenced her with a raised hand. She strode away. Droë followed. When they were beyond the hearing of the sailors, Ujie halted, faced her.
“This is commerce,” she said, her voice level. “It would be better if you did not contradict me in front of them.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ujie waved the apology away. “I am not angry. Just...remember.
For next time.”
“Of course.”
“You do not wish to couple with one of these humans?”
Her face burned. “I don’t... I never have. With anyone.”
The Arrokad smiled, tipped her head. “You might enjoy it. As I recall, you wanted to experience love, the emotion and the act.
The emotion you have known, albeit not to your satisfaction. The act is not always tied to the emotion. It can be, of course. But it can also simply be the deriving of pleasure from another.
Think of this as an opportunity.”
Droë started to answer, stopped herself, flustered. “I— I don’t know what to do.”
“I would guess that whichever human you choose will know.”
“Whichever...but how do I choose?”
“Do you prefer a man or a woman?”
Panic crept up her chest. “I don’t know!”
“You do not have to do this, Droë. I will not force you, nor will any of the humans.”
Droë considered saying that she didn’t, that she would sit on the sand and watch the lightning while Ujie amused herself. But the idea of this bothered her. Perhaps she did wish to try.
“For the longest time I thought only of loving men,” she said. “I would be willing to...to try either.”
“Women tend to be more gentle, though not always. And they have a better sense of what will arouse you. Men, with some exceptions, can be quite clumsy in this regard. Especially the younger, prettier ones. On the other hand, some men are quite entertaining.”
“Who do you intend to choose?”
Ujie stared past her, back toward the humans. “There is a woman I noticed. She didn’t look afraid as some of the others did. Dark-skinned, bronze hair. From the Labyrinth, I would assume. I believe I shall choose her.”
“Will you allow her to refuse?”
“Yes. It is said that some of my kind take whom they please, regardless of what the human wants. I am not one of those.”
Droë decided that she would not be either. There was, however, another problem.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“Interesting. I believe the humans would not have asked for our help had they known you would wish to feed on one of them when their ship was safe.”
“You think I shouldn’t feed here.”
“You can if you wish to, of course. I won’t stop you, and none of them could. Still, I think it would be better if you were to wait.”
“Then I will. And I have made my choice.”
A smile. “You’re certain?”
Droë straightened. “I have waited long enough.”
“Very well.”
They walked to where the sailors waited. Ujie pointed at the woman she had mentioned. She was young, pretty, with a round figure and plump cheeks. She glanced self-consciously at her comrades, but she didn’t hesitate to step forward and offer her hand to the Arrokad. Ujie led her away to the far end of the strand.
“I would choose you, if you’ll have me,” Droë said, leveling a finger at Gaven. Her pulse raced, but her hand remained steady.
The man’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“Yes. Do you enjoy coupling with women?”
“Well...Yes...I mean...Yes, I do.”
“Then you shall couple with me.”
“But... Are you sure? I mean...I’m old.”
Droë eyed him critically. “You are, but you’re also pleasing to look at.” A thought came to her. “Are you too old? I have heard that when humans are too old, they don’t function as well. Down there, I mean.”
Someone behind Gaven snickered. Other sailors smirked.
“No, I’m not too old,” he said, a hint of indignation in the words.
“Good. Come with me, then.”
She started away, padding through the wet sand to the other end of the strand, away from Ujie. She glanced back once to make certain the man was following her. He was. It occurred to her that he might find her smell—the smell of all Tirribin—
unpleasant.
She decided that she would say nothing of this. If he complained, she would let him leave her. She didn’t expect that he would.
At the end of the beach, she halted, faced him. After an instant of uncertainty, she pulled off her shift and dropped it to the sand.
He stared at her, blinking in the rain and the flickering light of the storm.
“You might well be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said.
She blushed. “You’re kind. I’m not really a woman, though.”
“Well, you’re not an Arrokad either, are you?”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
She didn’t tell him she was Tirribin. That would have scared him.
“I’m me,” she said. “And I’ve never been with anyone before.”
He opened his mouth, closed it. “Well, all right then. I’ll... I won’t hurt you.”
Droë nodded, solemn, scared, but ready as well. “Thank you.”
Chapter Nine
9th Day of Sipar’s Stirring, Year 634
She enjoyed her time with the human. Gaven was gentle, kind, and also skilled. At least he seemed so to Droë. She had no one to whom she could compare him, of course, but he pleased her. More than once.
After, she was eager to dress and be gone from the isle. And from him, truth be told. She did not wish to converse with him or even look at him after their coupling. Her own response—and his, if she was honest—embarrassed her. Once again, as she had the night Qiyed introduced her to passion, she wondered how humans treated with one another after surrendering all to their most animal needs and sensations. It was a mystery she would need to explore further. But not here, not this night with this man.
Besides, being with him in that way had left her ravenous, and she decided it would be rude to take his years after he pleased her so. She wanted to find Ujie and be on their way, preferably to an isle where she might find a meal and a place to sleep.
Droë thanked him—that struck her as the polite thing to do—and she let him kiss her one last time. She liked kissing. It felt good, without the complete loss of self-control that came with the rest of what they had done.
Gaven returned to his crew. Droë followed the waterline, suspecting she would find Ujie waiting for her at the edge of the sea. She was right.
The Arrokad reclined in the shallow surf, languid as a purring cat, her body glistening with brine and rain.
“I would leave when you are ready,” Droë said. “I need to feed, and I agree that it wouldn’t be right to take a member of the crew.”
“Very well. You had a satisfying encounter?”
Droë reddened to the roots of her hair and stared to the side. “I did.”
“Was it what you expected it to be? More? Less?”
“It was fine. All I expected.”
Ujie angled her head. “Is there—”
“I wish to go,” she said, eyes still averted. “I’m hungry.”
“As you wish.” The Most Ancient One stood, watching Droë as she did. Droë wouldn’t look at her, but she sensed the Arrokad’s concern. “Did the human hurt you?”
At that, Droë did meet the argent gaze. “No. He was kind. I...I have no complaints.”
Ujie gestured, her hand blurring in a small circle. Acquiescence.
They waded into the surf, Ujie allowed Droë to climb onto her back, and she swam away from the isle. Droë clung to her, regretting her behavior, the tone of her answers.
“Forgive me for being rude,” she said eventually. “I am...embarrassed.”
“At what?”
She considered the question with mounting frustration, not yet knowing how to speak of such things. “Everything,” Droë said, the word coming out with both laughter and a sob.
Ujie slowed.
“Please don’t,” Droë whispered. “It will be easier for me to explain if I don’t have to look at you, or know you’re looking at me.”
They accelerated again.
“How do you face them? After, I mean. I feel the things I do, and for those moments I have no control, no...composure.”
“It is lovely, yes?”
“Yes! But also horrifying!”
Laughter shook Ujie’s entire form. Droë clenched her jaw, anger and shame silencing her.
“Forgive me, cousin,” Ujie said. “I do not mock you. Truly. I am merely amused by your honesty. Certainly, I can see how succumbing to newfound passion can be as mortifying as it is wondrous. We do surrender our composure in the act of love, even our dignity in some small way. This is why humans prefer that the emotion accompany the act. With love comes trust, which makes the act easier. And this is also why violations of a physical nature are so very evil. They betray trust, deny dignity, debase love.”
Droë considered this. “You don’t love the humans with whom you couple.”
“No. I have been intimate with many, many humans—Ancients, too—
over a span of thousands of years. I have genuinely loved very few of them. I have grown accustomed to that loss of composure. I look forward to it; I am not at all embarrassed by it. In time, you will feel this way as well.”
Droë didn’t argue with the Arrokad, but she wondered if this would ever be true for her.
They glided over rough seas, and then calmer ones as they emerged from the storm into a softer rain. Ujie steered them to the isle of Preszir, and a small fishing town along the southwestern shore. She left Droë near the wharves there before striking out on her own along the shoreline. The Arrokad didn’t say so, but Droë sensed that she sought another human for “sport.” She wondered if her hunger for such things would ever be so voracious.
A puzzle for another time. Right now, she wished to hunt. She scented the air, sensed years not far from where she walked. A woman, not truly young, but not old either. A fine way to begin her meal.
She crept along a shadowed lane that led away from the pier, placing her feet with care, intent on the human ahead of her, abandoning all to the hunt.
Careless.
Magick crashed over her like a breaker in a storm. She crumpled under the weight of it. A cry escaped her, only to die on her lips.
