The next time I see you, Ham, make your peace.

  Ryllen knew he was a shameless hypocrite. He philosophized to Mee about the dangers of a life built on revenge, yet he found it a wonderful motivator. He built a mental list of everyone he planned to kill should he escape this moon.

  Mee might have opened an unexpected door to that outcome, one which intrigued Ryllen as he contemplated logistics. He settled into a comfortable spot on the bow after dinner and shared Mee’s pipe. The bay grass tasted just as dreadful, but its calming effects were more noticeable.

  Ryllen explained what he heard in Orek.

  “Did it come up while you were in the saloon?”

  “No. There were a couple of locals at the bar, but they seemed out of it. Big doings in Orek last night. I gathered most were still at home, sleeping it off. These villages have to pop from time to time. Feels like being alive, I suppose. You think the off-worlder was looking for you?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence. I saw two ships last night, and I guarantee they aren’t Huryan. Captain thinks they might be smugglers, but the timing is too perfect. I’ve been out of the pond four days.”

  “Think it has something to do with that war you fought? Did you skip out on them?”

  He handed back the pipe.

  “I’m going to chalk that question up to you being a backwater asshole. Otherwise, I’d bury you next to the anchor. I don’t run from a fight, Mee. I start it.”

  “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I didn’t mean nothing by it. I thought maybe if these people are after you, they think you did something criminal.”

  “Criminal? That doesn’t begin to explain the things I’ve done.”

  Mee shrugged. “We’re all killers out here.”

  “I’m out of your league. That’s all you need to know. Let’s focus on tomorrow night. D’haan. I have some ideas, but you need to answer my question. What would draw the Scroll out of his poitnois?”

  “It’s a hard one, Royal, but I’ve been looking at it from every angle. Scrolls love to be praised. If the village gathered together in his honor – like a party – he might attend.”

  “Sure. And who’s going to arrange this last-minute celebration? The first mate of a trawler that pulls into dock every couple of months?”

  “I know, I know. It’s a stupid plan.”

  “It’s not a plan. It’s a stupid idea. What else can draw him out?”

  “If he heard there was an off-worlder making threats …”

  “He’d send his minions. Same for anyone he considered dangerous. The last thing a comfortable man does is run toward trouble. Do you have a serious thought?”

  “Like I said, it’s a hard question to answer.”

  “Revenge is hard, but not my question. You missed the obvious. Or maybe you rejected it because it’s obvious. People overthink choices.”

  “What did I miss?”

  “The Scroll will only leave his poitnois if it’s too dangerous for him to stay. Fire tends to get people off their asses.”

  Mee’s slack-jawed response made clear that he never considered the possibility.

  “He’ll be exposed, Royal. I can kill him during his escape.”

  “Those are the broad strokes. Execution is another matter. I have an idea how to start the blaze, but I need to know what I’m up against. How is the poitnois constructed? What materials?”

  “Oh. Yes. That could be a problem. The pilings are banfatte. It’s a synthetic, almost as strong as steel. They say it’s made to last a thousand years.”

  “And the house on top?”

  “The foundation is probably the same. But the walls and the roof are sallawood. I recognize it from home. It’s not flame retardant but it is slow burning. There are sallawood forests on the eastern highlands that grow out of control. They …”

  “I don’t care about Huryo’s ecosystems. I need to set a fire that will burn fast and cause panic. If his minions can douse it right away, we gain no advantage.”

  “And they’ll know he’s under attack.”

  “Now you’re putting it together. Do you have the map I asked you to draw?”

  Mee retrieved his sketch and held it up against a finger lamp. Ryllen studied the relationship between the poitnois and the village. The structure was built directly above a marsh walkway – the low wooden platform that cut through the tall reeds so common near the shores of rivers and bays. D’haan’s stores and huts created a sort of L-configuration from the seafront promenade and wrapping along a thin river that twisted like a serpent as it reached inland. The poitnois sat comfortably inside the L, like a palace made to overlook the entire town.

  With one potential flaw.

  “How tall are the waterfront buildings that face the docks? Can he see the trawlers from the poitnois?”

  “Most are one level, but a few might disrupt the view. He’d see the trawlers entering and leaving the bay, but when we’re docked, maybe no more than the mast.”

  “Almost all the storefronts are facing inland. Yes?”

  “Correct. The promenade is really just for off-loading cargo and for villagers who like to greet the trawlers.”

  “This is good, Mee. Very detailed. I have some ideas. Give me tonight to sort it out. The captain says we’ll have three hours of sunlight after we dock. That should be enough time for me to poke around and make sure this will work.”

  “So there’s a chance I’ll kill him tomorrow?”

  “Better than even, if I’m right.”

  “If you’re not?”

  “It’ll be the last time the Lux ever docks in D’haan.”

  “Look, Royal. I know the captain doesn’t want the Lux to be tied to an assassination, and he’s done right by people like us. But I’ll never be satisfied as long as that Scroll is living. I don’t care about myself. Is there any way we can do this and still protect the captain?”

  “I wouldn’t count on it, Mee. Like I said, give me the night. I’ll try to sort it.”

  “Thank you, Royal.”

  “Too soon for that.”

  Ryllen didn’t care whether Mee’s Scroll died. Maybe he had it coming, maybe not. This wasn’t about one Huryan’s revenge.

  D’haan posed an opportunity Ryllen didn’t see coming when he first awoke to another chance at life. He spread out his blanket and stayed up well into the night, watching the skies.

  See you soon.

  33

  D ’HAAN WAS PERFECT FOR HIS PLAN. After they emptied their hold, received payment, and cleaned themselves up, everyone but Mee ventured into town. The first mate claimed to feel nauseous; best he allow it to pass. It was a good cover for what Ryllen needed him to accomplish. In the meantime, Ryllen absorbed every detail of the village. The geography was important, but the locals more so.

  These villagers, unlike the previous three, carried themselves with an air of relative comfort. Yes, they moved slowly because the dictates of time were largely irrelevant in these backwaters. However, they greeted each other with nods or a hand over the heart. There was a measure of civility and outward connection lacking in Lister, Orek, or that morning’s stop, Zepa. Even their clothes, while light and billowing, displayed variety in color and stitching. Children walked in small but respectful clusters, their voices neither boisterous nor reckless.

  No one overlooked Ryllen’s difference, but he encountered only a few whispers or pointed fingers. His presence did not surprise the villagers, and he soon learned why. Just as he heard earlier in the day before leaving Zepa, this town received a visit from an off-worlder. Similar description of uniform accompanied by no visible weapons. Tall, muscular man. In Zepa, he was “black like midnight,” and in D’haan, “bronze with an accent hard to comprehend.”

  Ryllen thought of two Talons – Force Carmel and Leto Ahmed – who might have fit the descriptions. He needed more to be certain, but like with the other villages, the off-worlders asked non-specific questions, and few of them. The strategy – if there was one – seemed bizarre. Why come all this way, spread your resources across the peninsula, only to conduct yourselves like lazy detectives?

  Nonetheless, Ryllen developed a theory and heard enough to coalesce a plan, though it might deviate from the one he laid out to Mee after breakfast.

  Sorry about that, Mee. Can’t be helped.

  The poitnois was the most elegant yet. Twenty meters square with a pagoda-style roof. Wooden chimes and bird cages with all manner of specimens decorated the wraparound balcony. The house sat on massive pilings so close to the village, it felt like a natural component rather than a castle overseeing a miniature empire. Villagers who lived inland had no choice but to walk beneath it in order to reach town. They slowed at a spot where one man stood motionless and bowed to him before moving on. The man kept guard on a small landing with a narrow frame ascending to the house.

  The lift.

  Ryllen hoped for a glimpse of the Scroll but settled for a young woman following a pair of children who held open books. So, he had a family? Was the woman their nanny? A former apprentice? He refused to allow their presence to interfere with his plans.

  Please stay safe tonight, if you can.

  Shortly before sunset, Ryllen recognized a trend. About one in ten villagers wore a tiny green badge – hexagonal and metallic – pinned to the collar. He didn’t have occasion to see it up close, but noticed two things about its bearers. One, they walked alone but with alert eyes observing everyone else. Two, they were a healthy blend of men and women, from child to elder.

  He asked the captain, who lowered his voice to answer.

  “They’re the loyalists. Committed to the village lord. They go by different names across the peninsula. Most of the time, they’re called deputies. The lord here is Vaun, so they’re Vaun’s deputies.”

  “His eyes and ears?”

  “When they have to be. There tends to be little dissent out here. They spend more time looking important and acting as liaisons to the lord when issues arise. In some villages, they’re elected. But some lords choose from those who bend down the farthest.”

  “Sycophants. How do they choose in D’haan?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t ask. I will say this much. Do not be deceived by how ordinary they might appear. They are devoted to their lord, and they will take whatever action he orders. They’ll also protect him with their lives.”

  “Good to know. Not all soldiers wear uniforms.”

  They found a table inside Spoog’s Tavern, which Juri said had the best rimba stew on the peninsula.

  “I do love me a plate of fried prim,” she said, “but eat too much of a good thing, your taste buds will sour to it. Rimba’s a dark stew, all from the land. Mushrooms, hausroot, marsh cabbage, and pea grass. Carries a musk you won’t forget.”

  The captain smiled. “You forgot to tell him the special ingredient.”

  “Oh, no. I’d a’ best not scare him off.”

  “Go ahead, Juri. There’s nothing I can’t eat.”

  “The musk, you see, comes from the bile sacs of marsh rats. They’re boiled till they form a shell. The cook pricks the end to squeeze the bile into the stew. Sounds mad, but it makes the dish.”

  “Disgusting, but I’ve had worse. Trust me. Much worse.”

  The tavern was poorly lit, with oil lamps on each table and along the bar casting ghostly silhouettes. As the sun sank behind the poitnois, the effect intensified. Ryllen remembered nights like this during the heat of war, when glow lamps broke the heavy dark of powerless cities.

  He might have become paranoid whenever eyes moved in his direction. Each Huryan appeared burdened by suspicion and fear. Yet no one lingered on him long enough to suggest more than mild curiosity – until one of them slipped into the empty chair at his table.

  The man, nearabout Ryllen’s age, led with a half-smile and a tinny voice. He wore a green badge on his collar.

  “The crew of Hannah Lux,” he began. “I hear you brought us quite a haul today. I do hope I’m not interrupting leisure time.”

  “Not at all,” the captain said. “We patronize every time we dock. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

  “Most people call me Len. I must confess, I was having a quiet drink before my shift, and I saw you arrive. Well, I … everyone knows you, Captain Noor, and of course, Juri. I don’t see your first mate. Mee?”

  “He was feeling off. He might yet join us.”

  Lord Vaun’s deputy flicked his eyes toward Ryllen.

  “And you are new?”

  “I am. The name is Royal. I’ve been with the Lux three days.”

  “Ah. What do you call the new ones, Captain? Peckers?”

  Noor grinned.

  “Deckers. As in, they’re bound to throw up on my deck at least once while they acclimate to the sea. Royal has yet to meet that standard.”

  “Ah.” The deputy slapped his hands together as if in prayer. “Very impressive, Royal. I’ve never been to sea myself, but I’d love to try it someday. Lord Vaun has talked of acquiring his own fleet of trawlers.”

  “We don’t want that,” Ryllen said. “I’m sure the captain would hate to lose D’haan. Is there something you want to ask me, Len?”

  “Very astute, Royal. Yes, actually. I was wondering – where are you from? So few off-worlders visit the peninsula.”

  Ryllen hesitated, his eye searching for the captain’s approval. Leave behind what you brought. Noor gave no hint.

  “I’ve lived many places. Hokkaido, mostly.”

  “Ah. Interesting. Were you born there? I heard stories about Chancellors who had children with Hokkis. I thought maybe …”

  “I wasn’t born on Hokkaido, but that’s personal. We just met.”

  The deputy shook his head to display his most contrite response.

  “I assure you, Royal, I would never wish to overstep.”

  “It’s understandable. I’m an off-worlder. I wonder, though. Did you have a chance to question the other off-worlder who visited D’haan yesterday? I hear he was bigger and browner than me. Where was he born?”

  “Ah. Yes. I heard him speaking to my shift commander, but I was kept at some distance, you see. D’haan was a stir when he arrived.”

  “Did he land by ship or boat?”

  “There’s much debate on that point. He walked out of the weak-timber forest and caught everyone by surprise. Some say he landed a boat in a cove to the southwest. Others say his starship appeared out of thin air near Backoo’s Creek and disappeared in a burst of sunlight. The only problem: The witnesses were five years old. Children and their wild delirium.”

  I’d trust them before I’d trust you.

  “So, what did the stranger reveal? I’m sure the word must have passed around by now.”

  “Only to Lord Vaun and his nearest circle. The visitor said very little until he asked my shift commander to lead him to the poitnois. He had a brief audience with Lord Vaun. Then he walked off inland. We were ordered not to follow.”

  “That’s unexpected. Do you know why he gave the order?”

  “Ah. That would involve questioning Lord Vaun’s judgment. No, sir. Not if I wish to keep my badge.”

  The tavern door flung open. Ryllen saw who entered and knew he had to be quick.

  “We’ve heard stories about an off-world visitor in every village all the way back to Lister. Have you heard those reports, Len?”

  The half-smile cemented on the deputy as he squirmed.

  “I wouldn’t be privy to intelligence about our neighbors to the southwest. We stay out of each other’s business, you see. And … oh, look. Your first mate is here.”

  Mee entered the lamp light.

  “Feeling better?” The captain asked.

  “Much, thank you. One of those nagging bits that comes and goes. Who’s the friend?”

  Len pushed back and offered the chair to Mee.

  “I was keeping it dry for you.” He turned to the crew. “I enjoyed our brief talk. If you have any need of my services, please do not hesitate. I’ll be over there.” He pointed to the bar. “I have an hour to nurse my drink before my shift begins.”

  Mee pulled up to the table.

  “What was that about?”

  Noor sighed. “A link in a chain.”

  Juri grumbled. “More like an ass-wiper looking for a bonus from his shift commander.”

  “A nobody looking to be somebody,” Ryllen said. “I know his type.”

  “Maybe too well,” Noor said. “You were becoming a bit too engaged, Royal. If Mee had not arrived, you might have disclosed too much.”

  “I know my limits, Captain. You made them clear. But look how much we learned about these visitors? A few more questions, that asshole would have broken rank.”

  “Perhaps, but we must tread carefully. Our reputation and livelihood is not built on prim alone.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  After the awkward pause, Juri said:

  “So, will that be four bowls of rimba stew and a side of hoolabread for dipping?”

  No objections offered, she retired to the bar and placed their order.

  “I thought I might be too late for dinner,” Mee said.

  “I hope your time alone was beneficial, Mee.” Captain Noor leaned in and lowered his voice. “And I’m not talking of your nausea.”

  “Oh, yes. That. No worries, Captain. The time will be right to confront my Scroll, but not now. Royal made good points. I respect your opinion, Captain, but I needed to hear it from a newcomer.”

  “Excellent, Mee. And thank you, Royal. I almost steered us past D’haan for this rotation because I was afraid of what might happen. I don’t like breaking schedule or trust with our clients. I’m relieved I was forced to do neither.”

  Ryllen played humble, with one eye set on the first mate, who struggled to maintain a credible pose. Ryllen saw the nakedness of the lie in Mee’s eyes; he hoped Noor’s faith would not see through it. The stew could not come fast enough.

  It followed a few minutes behind Juri, swirls of steam rising from each bowl to impugn the diners with the full flavor of a marsh rat’s bile sacs. The base was a deeper brown than the darkest timber. The ingredients settled on the bottom. A good stir brought them forth. Juri said to dip the hoolabread while the stew cooled.