She hadn’t noticed until Pech came aboard to inspect the cargo and found the ruined mess. She could have made an excuse, blamed the new man, called him out for suspected sabotage. But she hadn’t had the chance to even consider it. Pech had made up his mind already. He’d taken one look at her face, her eyes, to be exact, and declared her a half-Teek bitch. A saboteur herself, and up to no good.
“Why would I sabotage my own cargo?” she’d asked, incredulous.
“Why do Teek do anything?” he’d shot back at her. “Half-human means half-animal, and who knows why animals like you do what they do? Spite? Evil? Jealousy?”
“Jealousy?” She’d laughed, loudly and with gusto, and let her face show what she thought of piddling Lord Pech. In retrospect, maybe she shouldn’t have. He’d backhanded her, knuckles slicing across her cheek, and she’d shown him just what a half-Teek bitch could do.
He’d come up sputtering twenty feet out in the open harbor, yelling for someone to save him, and in the next breath, called for someone to have her arrested. She’d thrown another wave over his head and into his gullet just to shut him up. But she was no killer, and she’d let the waves push him to shallow water. And then she’d left her ship, her cargo, and her payment behind to go find a cantina and a beautiful woman and, eventually, a jail cell.
And then Lord Balam. And here.
Balam motioned Callo over with a wave, and the first mate dropped the rope he had been coiling and lumbered over. He was a short man, the same height as Xiala but twice as wide, and muscles bulged on his well-worked arms. His hair was black, tied back in a simple knot high on the back of his head. A white cloth headband circled his broad forehead, and he wiped sweat from eyes that Xiala thought of as wistful. He always looked sad to her, like life had not lived up to his expectations and he mourned the injustice. Callo might not have done the sabotage outright, but it was his man who had, she was sure, which made him partly responsible.
“My friend, whom I am paying well,” Balam said to the first mate, “you know our captain, yes? And there won’t be a problem, will there?”
Callo’s puppy eyes rolled across her, and he shrugged. “She’s a good captain for a…”
Xiala snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “For a woman? For a Teek?” she supplied. “Say it, Callo.”
He stared at her a moment before lowering his gaze. “Women don’t belong on boats. That’s what the old ones say. They are cold and draw the storms. But then, you’re not a woman, are you? A female, maybe, but not a woman.”
“Mother waters, is that what you whisper about me? That I’m not even human?” She balled her hands into fists and reached for her Song. It came to her like a dark swirl rising up from the depths of a whirlpool and rested ready on her tongue. It occurred to her that using her Song might prove him right, but in the moment, she didn’t care.
“Now, now,” Balam said in alarm, his eyes on her. “No need for that.”
She glanced at him, again surprised that he seemed to sense when she called her magic. He gave her that same smile. Lord Balam was more than he appeared, too. She wasn’t sure what, a sorcerer or a diviner, perhaps. Someone sensitive to magic.
Callo was not, and did not seem to notice how close he was to catching her wrath. “It’s no insult,” he said with an indifferent shrug. “Just a fact. I sailed with you before, didn’t I? Maybe a fishwoman is better on the sea than a human woman. Don’t take it so bad.”
“Ah, there you have it!” Balam beamed. “Not an insult. A compliment… in its own way. So…”
“But your friend…?” She had forgotten his name, had only called him Huecha because of the town he hailed from. “He sabotaged Pech’s ship, you know he did. Cost me wages and reputation.”
“Ah.” Callo sighed. “He was no good. Cost me wages, too. That’s on my honor. We and the others took care of him.”
Xiala hadn’t expected an admission of guilt. It was enough to slow her anger. She let her Song slip back down her throat unused, but she kept it close and ready, just in case.
“And there you have it,” Balam said, clapping his hands together merrily. “All is well, lost wages are recompensed on a new adventure, and this voyage can continue as we planned.”
“Maybe not yet,” Callo said, his flat-pan voice raised slightly. “Looks like we have company.” He motioned with his chin back toward the docks, over Xiala’s shoulder.
She and Balam turned. Striding toward them, looking righteously furious, was Lord Pech. He was accompanied by a dozen soldiers with shields and spears, and by his side, wringing his hands, was the tupile from Xiala’s jail. Pech wore a loincloth and hip skirt with matching shoulder cape like Balam’s, but Pech’s skirt and cape were notched at the hem and dyed red, decorated with elaborate circles of gold. He wore a feathered headdress, the kind that sat low across his forehead and covered his ears with flaps. Feathers plumed from the top in rare reds and yellows. Jewels glittered on his neck and arms and even his ankles. It was an ostentatious display of wealth, and it made Xiala convinced the man was definitely compensating for some other lack.
“Seven hells,” Balam murmured, the first expletive Xiala had heard from his cultured lips. “He must have had me followed to Kuharan.” He chuckled, amused. “That sly dog.” He turned back to Xiala and Callo. “I suggest you board the ship and make ready to sail. And quickly, too.”
Callo nodded sharply and hurried back to the men, shouting orders.
“And you?” Xiala asked.
Balam raised a well-groomed eyebrow and gave her a dubious look. “Me? Are you concerned about me?”
“Only that you stay alive long enough to pay me.”
His face relaxed as if her concern had made him uncomfortable and her retort was more familiar territory. “You live a much more tenuous life than I, Xiala of the Teek. I can handle Pech.”
She started to protest that Pech had shown up with armed men and Balam might not be able to talk his way out of that, especially considering the bribe he’d paid the tupile, but she remembered that feeling she’d had that her new lord was more than he seemed. In her brief time spent with Pech, she knew he was exactly and only what he appeared to be. Pech’s banality was no match for Balam, despite the tupile and the small household army that came following at his heels.
“Good luck, then,” she said, and when Balam said nothing more, she turned and climbed across the plank that linked the dock to the ship and dropped down into the dugout canoe.
“Take that, too,” Balam called over his shoulder, indicating the plank she had crossed. “If Pech and his men want to reach you, they’ll have to swim.”
She did as he instructed and pulled the walkway aboard the ship after her.
“Now then.” Balam squared his handsome shoulders. “Get that Obregi to Tova, Captain Xiala. I am relying on you. It is an old obligation I have, a promise made that must be fulfilled, and I am counting on you to be my agent in this.”
“And the goods?” She glanced at the stores already stacked under the reed overhang in the center of the ship. “The salt and feathers, the cacao beans and jade?”