River’s End ch 4: Oh High Heavens! We’re All Going to Prison!

At first, I thought I had tumbled over inconvenient boulders. Then I realized whatever I had hit was yelling. Somehow, Fredo caught both me and the crone I had trampled.

“Watch it!” She clung to me, and I had never been more grateful for the padding on my bag’s strap.

The face hovering only a hand’s span from mine belonged to Brikla of the Bukuu, famed second-oldest person in the world.

She recognized me, too. “Pink eyes. You must be the little Sine. Any particular reason you slammed into me?”

“Sorry, Honored Elder.” I dropped into a quick curtsy. “I have no excuse.”

She brushed herself off, flicking pale pieces of baffble from her sleeve. “Dining with a River Guardian is supposed to bring good fortune. What does it mean when one smashes fruit on your shoulder?”

“That you’ll live a long life?”

“I was old before you were born. Where is the tardy prophet headed this morning?”

Fredo chimed in, “To accomplish imperative tasks beyond comprehension.”

Fancy and very vague. Way to go Fredo.

Our elder’s gaze narrowed on him. “You are young, but you are cute. Sine, I will trade you.”

“Trade what?”

Fredo glared, but she had piqued my curiosity. Not that I would have ever traded him, but I wanted to hear what she would say.

“The wild dapkie around here. They make a game of trying to knock me over. If I could run as fast as them, they would get what they deserve!” She shook her fist.

Stifling a giggle, I chirped, “It seems they trained you for today, saving you from a fall when I came barreling into town. Sorry for the short visit, but we need to go.” I scampered off, Fredo at my heels. “Tell no one you’ve seen us, please.”

“Dearie, it is not my business to go telling everyone everything. My business is much more profitable.”

She would tell for the right price, but the Shlykrii-nas couldn’t pay it. Ancient, honorable Brikla of the Bukuu, a Shlykrii-na spy? Never.

* * *

Imagine a cube two stories tall.

Now stretch the cube into a rectangular prism. Tilt it onto a corner and squash it a little.

Hold that image in your mind. The smaller sides should be rhombuses. Cover these with pyramids, one on either end of the structure.

This is the construct of the ship we found on the other side of Vefii.

It was a simple shape, metallic hull painted many times with varying shades of black, and still a disconcerting amount of orange rust showed through. Fredo glanced back at me, questions in his eyes. This tin bucket would fall apart halfway through the atmosphere. Was I sure this was our ride?

I nodded and pulled my hood low over my telltale eyes. This ship was unpretentious, exactly what we needed. Plus, it was already headed to Grenswa, carrying tradestuffs from the merchants of Vefii.

Fredo knocked loud on the hull and grimaced when his knuckles came away flecked with black and orange.

“I already told you,” came a bellow from inside, “we don’t—” As a man’s mostly bald head appeared through the hatch opening above us and he realized we were not whomever he had already told, his tone dropped from vexed to reserved. “We are legal, and I have the papers to prove it.”

“We aren’t here to say otherwise,” Fredo conceded.

The man’s mouth drew a thin line. He had the narrow, blue eyes and dark hair—what remained of it—of a northerner, and a luxurious beard compensated for his glabrous crown, matching the description of the ship’s listed owner, Bongii of the Twal.

“Then what does a mykta and a—what’s she, a vedia? What do members of the heir’s entourage want with me?”

He thought we belonged to my sister, and I wouldn’t correct him.

Fredo didn’t either. “We seek transport.”

“No. That’s prohibited.”

Fredo’s eyebrows rose, and his head tilted. “You’re going.”

“I have a permit and arrangements with native merchants. You can’t go to Grenswa uninvited, and if you had been invited, you wouldn’t be asking me to take you.”

“Arguing here with me will put you behind schedule, so I’ll cut this short,” Fredo offered. “You will take us with you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if you don’t, you won’t be going either. If you deny us again, my compatriots will storm from the trees and help me confiscate this ship.”

Bongii scanned the forest at the edge of the cleared launch pad as Fredo’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial stage whisper.

“This is a test to see how well you take orders when we need you to. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but you’re kind of failing, so…”

A stiff breeze rustled the foliage where Bongii stared, and his eyes widened. Saying nothing, he disappeared inside and threw a steel-rung rope ladder through the hatch.

I climbed up first, rolled through the round opening, and dropped into the lap of a stranger who sat behind neatly labeled cargo loading controls. He had the same northern design as Bongii, likely a younger relative.

“Um, hello.” The young merchant raised his left hand in greeting, and I reflexively returned the gesture.

The pink scales on my fingertips shimmered as they caught the light from the open hatch.

“She’s Grenswa-na!” Bongii shrilled and snatched my wrist. My skin was Seallaii-na soft. “No, she’s only meant to look Grenswa-na. What are you up to?”

Fredo plucked me off the younger’s lap and carried me under his arm like a sack of grain. I didn’t protest at first as his long strides hurried us through a slender corridor into the large cargo area. I couldn’t breathe, though, and the deeper we got in the ship, the less it felt like he had any intention of setting me down.

“This is un-dignifying!”

“Good,” Fredo growled. “Maybe you’ll learn to look before you dive in somewhere. That’s a useful life skill.”

Maybe so, but I felt something else from him. “You’re jealous.”

“A non-River Guardian is not supposed to touch a River Guardian.”

“Okay, hypocrite.”

He dropped me.

“Ow!”

His retort echoed in our minds, an answer he wouldn’t say aloud. ‘I consider myself at least partly River Guardian, you know.’ Or something like that. It was more a notion than an articulated sentence, less distinct than a whisper or dream speak, but somehow more meaningful.

He watched me, but I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t think I wanted him to see my thoughts like that. Fredo was probably the one person with whom I could be completely honest, but even so…

I stalled, getting to my feet as slowly as possible.

Bongii rushed up behind me. His beard rippled with his panting breaths, and I wondered if it really was meant to make up for the lack of hair on the top of his head. The length of our locks denoted not only physical age but maturity and wisdom. Criminals and the mentally ill were shaved, and though I doubted that was the reason for his baldness, did others? How much disrespect did he encounter from this small defect?

Because he certainly wasn’t stupid.

“She’s the young royal Sine, isn’t she?”

With a sigh, I whirled to face him and put on my noblest air. “Honored Elder Bongii, understand it is imperative this matter be kept under the strictest confidentiality, and I am willing to pay for both your cooperation and your secrecy.”

“You mean with real money? Not with ‘River Guardian good will’ or nothing like that?”

I shook my head, pretzel bun exaggerating the motion. “Name your price.”

“A hundred thousand vi. Each.”

One vi equaled a day’s wage for an average Seallaii-na. Two hundred thousand vi would have bought that ship. Actually, it would have bought a better one.

I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out a string of currency. Chrome strands wove a net-like disc thin as a hairsbreadth and with the diameter of my pinky-nail, flecked with blue fire opal. One of these blue vi was worth one thousand base vi, and I hadn’t counted how many were on this string, but they were normally stored like this in sets of five hundred.

I held out the laden cord. “For your services, swift, safe, and secret. There will be more when you return us to Seallaii.”

“Well…” Bongii snatched the vi and clutched them in a two-handed vice as if they might slither away. “Can’t turn down a pretty lady in need. We’re behind schedule, so I’d better hurry off. Make yourselves comfy and don’t touch anything if it looks like it’ll explode in a bad way.”

Fredo’s agreement warmed me from within as he eyed a caged plant. It looked like it might have been eaten once already.

As Bongii made himself scarce, I scanned the space for a good spot to sit. Crates and sheet-covered lumps were haphazardly packed in here, leaving a serrated pathway between random piles. There didn’t appear to be any actual seats with cushions, safety-straps, and cup holders.

Time to put on a Grenswa-na mentality. Climb to the highest spot and sit there.

I ascended a jagged stack of wide crates.

Fredo stood behind me. “The money?”

I shrugged. “I took two strings of blue vi from the Treasury of Menyaza, and don’t give me that look. As an adopted Sine, I have a right to it, and Menyaza won’t suffer for the loss of that paltry amount.”

Fredo lifted an eyebrow and gnawed at the inside corner of his lip. “That kind of money will attract attention. Couldn’t you have taken something smaller than thousand vi coins?”

I curled my fingers into a tiny circle. “Blue vi are the smallest coins.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Blue vi are the lightest and easiest to carry.” Reaching the top of the stack, I plopped down. “They are also viable currency on Grenswa thanks to my uncle helping rebuild the world the last time Shlykrii tried to destroy it.”

Fredo sighed and leaned against another pile of crates. “I would like to hear our plan for when we land on Grenswa.”

“Really? So would I.”

As the engines revved and the walls shook, I caught only a glimpse of his dubious and chiding look. My pedestal tilted, and I tumbled down the side of the stack.

He caught me and stepped back to evade a rocking crate. “I’m guessing by your makeup, at least, you’ll pretend to be Grenswa-na.”

“I brought makeup for you, too.”

“Oh joy.”

A repeated clang pounded above the engines’ hum. “Open up! Open for the customs patrol!”

Fredo and I looked at each other, one shared thought in tandem: Hide!

Also by unspoken agreement, we scrambled in opposite directions. Fredo disappeared into an upright container. I chose a long, wooden trunk embossed with a flowery design and a simple latch.

It only looked simple. I still fiddled with it when Bongii entered the cargo area.

“Are you sure you don’t want to read the papers again? There might be something you missed.”

“I did not miss anything. Step aside, now.” The customs officer had a voice like Kietyn’s, the type of timbre I imagined a volcano would have.

“I can’t let you in there. I just can’t!” Bongii protested as I finally flipped the latch free and swung open the trunk’s lid. “There’s a deadly virus, and I need to disinfect the area before you can go in.”

As I dove into the trunk, lowered the lid, and buried myself under layers of scented fabrics, the officer shoved the merchant aside. Heavy boots marched through the maze, and the sharper click of claws trotted alongside them.

A dapkie, most likely.

They were wide-bodied canines with a twin spine that resembled a double helix. This gave them a wavy ridge along their backs, and the spine split into two bushy tails. More importantly, dapkie were eager to please, easily trained, and had an excellent sense of smell.

The customs patrol officer would look for items that shouldn’t be taken to Grenswa, but his dapkie partner would be more likely to find what he searched for. A pair of stowaways would be on that list. A royal Sine and her mykta would at least arouse his suspicion and be detained, perhaps causing Bongii’s ship to miss launch.

It would call the attention of watching Shlykrii-nas.

Great, now the Shlykrii-nas are omnipresent monsters in my head. Thanks, Kietyn.

The officer kicked my trunk. “Open one of these containers.”

“Right away!” Bongii shuffled closer.

Don’t pick this one. Don’t pick this one!

Of course, he picked the flowery trunk filled with sweet fabrics. Why not?

I held my breath, already woozy from the overabundance of perfume in this box, and a sneeze burned in my sinuses, threatening me with its inevitability.

The dapkie sniffed and huffed. It didn’t like the perfume either and quickly moved on. The officer lowered the lid.

“I told you, I’m no drug smuggler!” The petulance Bongii poured into the statement seemed to come naturally to him.

As their steps retreated, I rolled onto my side and squeezed my nose between my thumbs to hold in that insistent sneeze. What I really needed was fresh air. I found a small gap in the trunk’s wooden slats and pressed my face to it.

“I’m already behind schedule. Aren’t you satisfied yet?”

I was relieved to see they headed away from Fredo’s corner. The officer towered over Bongii, tanned skin and khaki uniform blending with the muted shadows between boxes. Light glinted off a variety of weapons tucked into his belt, and lumps beneath his knee-length jacket hinted at more.

“You do not look like an honest man, Bongii of the Twal, but—”

The dapkie whined and scratched at Fredo’s crate, dual tails whipping back and forth.

The officer strode toward his canine partner. “What do you have there?”

“There’s expensive stuff in here, and if he ruins it...” Bongii trailed off. The fear of one caught in a lie was plastered on his face, and he looked like he might run for it.

The officer couldn’t open the crate. It had a fancy locking mechanism, but surely Fredo hadn’t bolted it from the inside. Maybe he held it closed. Regardless, the officer assumed it was locked.

With the warning, “Stand back,” he retreated a pace, drew a laser pistol, and blasted off the latch.

A small gasp escaped me, but no one noticed.

With an eerie creak, the crate’s door swung wide, and there stood Fredo, shielding his face.

“You, come out of there.”

Fredo obeyed.

The dapkie stiffened, on high alert, a pounce ready, but the officer staid him with an open hand.

“What is your name?”

“If I wanted to tell you, would I have been hiding in a box?” Fredo shifted as he spoke.

The officer grabbed for him, and the dapkie leapt, but Fredo was faster. My guard moved like sly wind as he redirected the dapkie’s tackle onto his master and dictated the man’s fall with sharp nudges. Within a second, the officer lay on the floor, legs akimbo, eyes half-closed and glazed.

“Oh, high heavens! We’re all going to prison!”

I started at Bongii’s use of this River Guardian phrase, adapted from the famous poem:

Oh, how high are the heavens

That I could travel forever

And somewhere see this impossible sight

“No one’s going to prison.” The trunk lid slammed against the other containers as I sat up. “Honored Elder Bongii, go start up the engines and get us into space.” Rifling through my bag, I knelt alongside the comatose officer.

“We’re not taking him with us, are we? Oh, higher heavens, is he dead?”

“He’s very much alive, and he won’t remember a lot when he wakes up. Now, go.”

Bongii scrambled off as I sprinkled powders into a clear vial, added a few drops of water from my canteen, and shook the mixture into a milky froth.

A rope, likely from the pouches on the back of Fredo’s belt, had noosed the dapkie, and Fredo held it taut. These canines were affectionate to those they considered family. They were also territorial and protective of said family. Fredo had hurt his master and earned the designation ‘evil’ in this dapkie’s mind. The animal spun in circles, unable to reach his foe and making quite the fuss.

“Are you going to hold him like that the entire trip?”

“No, because you have a better idea.”

I grinned. “Of course I do. Hold your breath for a bit.”

Fredo’s and my olfactory senses were nowhere near as keen as a dapkie’s, but better safe than sorry. After capturing a heavy breath, I drizzled a small amount of my concoction onto my palm and flung it at the hyper canine’s face. He sneezed once, twice, then fell over with the third and remained limp on the ground.

Effective.

As I poured the rest up our human captive’s nose, Fredo stole a set of magnetic shackles from his pocket and secured them on the man’s wrists. I nodded my approval. I would ensure the officer slept for the duration of the trip, but in the event he did awaken, it would be better to have him already restrained.

We also didn’t want him and his partner lying somewhere a Grenswa-na harbor worker might spot them while unloading, so Fredo slung him over his shoulders, scooped up the dapkie, and sought out a place to hide them.

Continued in chapter 5: My Carefully Cultivated Positive Attitude

Thank you for reading!