Fractured Lands

Chapter 2, Kanika:

Chapter 2, Kanika:Kanika, the first officer of the Resolute, lay on her right side facing the eastern windows. With no sunbeams filtering through her closed eyes, she knew the sun hadn’t risen yet. Her head swam with the alcohol she’d consumed the day before or the night before? There came no banging on the door, so she realized the ship wasn’t due to sail yet. The warmth of the person sleeping next to her radiated against her back, causing her to sweat. That is what woke her up. She hated the heat of the northern cities. She never found relief from the temperature.

The captain gave her a week’s leave while they were moored here in Abaraka. She was more than willing to accept the vacation. It’d been several years since she’d been away from the ship for so long. She took advantage of the time off by hitting every tavern, inn, and whorehouse she could find. The city offered a wide selection, which she hadn’t depleted yet.

The city of Abaraka was the strangest city-state of them all. Ruled by the temple of the Eldest Son, or as the followers called him, the one true god of the land. They worshiped the god of conflict. A true religious meritocracy, the priests of the order were warrior monks. Encouraged to have as many children with as many women as possible, they strove to create perfect warriors. The training began before a child took its first step, and it was brutal. Killing and death of the enemy was the temple’s goal. Family meant nothing, while enslavement of the weak they found right and just. The high priest long contended that order should be brought to the masses. However, he’d yet to attack the other city-states.

The need for sleep was overwhelming, but currently she found the heat and rough sheets unbearable. From experience, she knew in her present condition, sleep would evade her. She lay there, eyes closed, trying to recall who she had gone to bed with. With her left hand, she investigated the body lying behind her. She let her hand glide up the other person’s thigh, locating a flaccid member. So it was male.

She cracked open an eye and found the room filled with a dim colorful light from the multicolored lampshade. The wick had been lowered, only allowing the least amount of light. Unsure whose room she ended up in, she did know it wasn’t her billet. There were only so many taverns in Abaraka—at least she recognized which tavern she’d flopped. It was one of the few that tightened the ropes on the racks regularly and changed the mattress straw often.

She slid her naked body from under the covers and padded to the open window. There she braced herself; the sudden movement woke her water legs. She hated being on dry land, it never moved. Scanning the bay, she found the Resolute, right where it should be. The ship wasn’t scheduled to leave until after sunrise with the morning easterly winds.

She checked the time: the minor moon rose only two hands above the horizon. Most of the night was still left. Since this would be her last night in a real port she had carousing to do. There were bodies out there that she hadn’t laid with and alcohol left to be drunk.

She glanced back at the bed and got a glimpse of the curly chestnut hair that peeked out from beneath the sheet. The vision of the hair made her remember, he was a crewmember from one of the other cargo ships. His doe eyes and curly brown hair made her weak in the knees. She’d never been one to sleep with just anyone, just most everyone. He’d performed well, she decided to let him doze instead of trying to make him rise to the occasion once again.

Her clothes were right where she left them on the floor, scattered about the room, tangled with the sailors clothing. In the throes of passion, tidiness became the last thing on her mind. The basin of water sat not far, on the commode. The attached mirror above revealed her sun-kissed auburn hair, framing what she considered to be her average looks. Preferring not to reek of s*x while she continued to party her last night in port, she washed in the dim light, a wet cloth the best she found. The water cooled her overheated body, causing goose bumps to cover her athletic frame.

Careful not to wake her partner, she searched for her clothing, in the reverse order shed when they entered the room. Dressed, she retrieved two small objects. Her hidden knife and purse were stashed in the most logical place, under her pillow.

Most of her blades had been checked in the weapons room before being allowed into the inn. She always carried a dagger, concealed in the place most men were afraid to search, and her sword. It stood as a symbol of her office. As a concession to the rank, most inns would allow an officer to carry one—the cost more than most inns wanted to risk bearing if it came up missing while in their care. The beautiful recurved blade, three feet long, made of the finest steel, pommel jewel and gold inlay covered the hand guard. Not only a handsome piece of craftsmanship, it handled as a deadly slashing weapon. A gift from her father, less ornate than the Captain’s blade, it would have cost her a year’s pay to replace it.

One last look in the mirror, and she headed for the door, turned to study the face of the sleeping man, so she might at least remember his face if they met again, if not his name. Such was her life while in port. Cramming as much life as humanly possible into those few hours while ashore.

On the landing overlooking the tavern below, she noticed things were just getting started. Smoke drifted up from the floor below, a mixture of oil lamps and calk smoke from pipes and hookahs.

The sweet aroma of the calk smoke was always easy to pick out from other aromas. No more intoxicating than the many forms of alcohol consumed, it provided the poor a cheap way to forget their miserable lives. For those that wished to forget more, they always sold vine. Outlawed in most inns due to the hallucinations derived from its use, many would chew the vine’s leaves day and night, living out their lives in a world of their own creation, lips tinted blue from the sap of the plant, never sure of reality.

Before she cleared the bottom of the stairs, the third officer, Hakeem, stopped her. She liked him most of the time, even if he could be a whiny little b***h of a dog. “Just a warning, the crew is having the same argument.” They were close in the pecking order of the ship. He ran the stores, kept track of the cash and payroll. He had power in the ship’s crew, keeping his ear to the rumors.

“Which same argument is it this week? I’ve trouble keeping track of them all.” She peeked over his shoulder, scanning the crew’s table.

“If what we are doing is wise, given the current war and all. We might make so much more money raiding the warring cities, then running cargo to the nonaligned.” With a nervous tick, he glanced over his shoulder.

She laughed. She’d heard this one before. Personally, she agreed with the crew, but better to support her captain in the matter. “I know the arguments for and against. I will take care of it. Is the cargo loaded?”

“Yes, of course it is. You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t…” He glanced over his shoulder again and moved to whisper in her ear. “Are you sure this is normal? The price is way too high for the trip, and the boxes are strange—” His sentence was cut off as another sailor stumbled up.

“We’ve been missin’ ya, ma’am. How about a drink?”

“I will be there in a moment. I’ve drinking left to do!” She slapped the drunk sailor on the back, sending him back to the crew’s table. “I will talk to them and explain the dangers of their desired course of actions. I will broach the subject again with my father, but he seems set on staying out of the war, no matter the loss of coin. Let me worry about the cargo. It will bring in some much-needed gold.”

“But—” Hakeem tried to continue, but Kanika cut him short.

“You are stealing my drinking time. You should be getting ready for casting off tomorrow as well. Let’s drink and be merry, for tomorrow we set sail into the cracks.”

A smile spread across Hakeem’s face as she slapped him on the shoulders. “Into the cracks,” he cheered after her.

At the table, Kanika stole the closest sailor’s ale. “I hear you all want to make more coin?” she shouted at the top of her lungs, pushing a seated sailor out the chair she wanted.

This brought a round of cheers from the table as talk of more coin always did.

“No matter who we have to sacrifice?” She took a healthy swig from the mug.

One from the end shouted back, “I’d sacrifice the lot of them if’n I could earn more coin.”

“Aye, I am sure you all would,” Kanika shouted back to the man. “I’m sure each of you would sell your mother for more coin, but would you sell yourself for more? You must remember smuggling and pirating is a dangerous business. You have to calculate if the gold we would earn would be worth the risk of your neck, not the man sitting next to you.”

The crew grew silent.

“I’m not above risking my life for all of you, though I need to know the reward justifies the risk. Right now, I don’t see it. Our ship might not make the glory of the others, but we are able to keep a life, a home, and a family without the worry of others attacking and killing them because of our behavior. Are any of you willing to give that up?”

The men lowered their eyes, sobering up at the thought of what they might risk if they started a life of crime.

“Now, that is enough talk of becoming privateers. We’ve plenty of cargo to haul. We can make good safe coin.” Kanika admitted there were times the gold sounded good on the far side of the law, but her argument remained valid. She’d not seen rewards high enough for the risks of a prison colony or a hangman’s noose.

Glancing up from her crew, she discovered the strangest man standing nearby, observing the discussion. Covered head to toe, his brown floppy hat and wrapped scarf only allowed his eyes to peek through. Their eyes met as she caught him staring from under the brim of his hat, watching her. If his eyes didn’t seem so vibrant, she would have guessed he hid the coughing disease or some other ailment. Those eyes, the strangest color, a brown so light they looked green. Another peculiar admirer, she thought.