Cheeyt’s unhappy expression told Nuliyaa her sister already knew about Tewmisyu. She had cornered Singmij against the wagon and, as Nuliyaa came close enough to hear, said, “You are going to stand here and tell me you did not know the Bakfathi are moving toward Tewmisyu.”
“Back off, Cheeyt.” Nuliyaa wedged between her sister and Singmij. Cheeyt gave way with a huff. “Had you heard anything?”
“No.” Singmij rubbed her face. “We are in the process of negotiations with Bakfath. There should be no activity at Tewmisyu.”
“It happens.” Chesfi propped her chin on the wagon rail. “The Bakfathi keep threatening to invade at Tewmisyu. We negotiate and they go home.”
“Why?” Tseetsaa asked.
“Most of this side of Bakfathi is a swamp,” Singmij explained. “There is nowhere to build a wharf. They know they can’t take Aapa Mapri from Keeyl. Our military is smaller and more spread out. So they look at Tewmisyu.”
Chesfi sniffed. “And they are awful humans. They hate us.”
“The malks?” Nuliyaa asked.
“And all those who are not human.”
Cheeyt loomed over Sinchach and Tajak. “Did you know?”
“No.” Sinchach shrugged. He didn’t even look up from whatever he was working on in his hands. Either he hadn’t noticed, or it never occurred to him that she would do anything.
Tajak, however, touched his weapon and leaned slightly Cheeyt’s way. “Perhaps that is why your parents did not want you traveling.”
Sinchach looked up at that, expression baffled. “Why would my parents know if the sikoesnu did not? They are not part of the government.”
Nuliyaa saw concern flash across Singmij’s face, but her expression was smoothed out before she turned to Cheeyt. “I would understand if you do not want to go further.”
Miyt touched Nuliyaa’s arm. Nuliyaa clenched her teeth against her sigh. Of course she wasn’t going to argue with Cheeyt here. This could be far more dangerous than they had anticipated. Though they didn’t have anything to return to in Wulmaltsmaas.
“I wouldn’t,” Chesfi grumbled. “There are other ways home.”
“We could go to Riverport,” Kachaark said. “Cut overland to the Mife Oschim.”
Chesfi’s ears drooped but she didn’t object.
“What’s the Mife Oschim?”
“The bridge,” Cheeyt answered. “Above Tewmisyu, the river gets too narrow and steep for the barges. Mife Oschim is the closest bridge.”
“Adds more time,” Singmij said with a nod, “but it’ll be easier to move around the city-states than risk Bakfath.”
“What do you know about the roads between the city-states?” Cheeyt asked Singmij. “I haven’t gone that way in a while.”
Singmij leaned her shoulders against the wagon as she thought. “Riverport to Spires should be the most difficult. But the current Spires governor is friendly with Nengmek and has a stronger control of the army, so the road between Spires and the river should be clear.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“How difficult outside of Riverport?”
Singmij shrugged. “No more than usual.”
“What is the usual difficulty?” Miyt asked.
Cheeyt’s voice was more gentle when she said, “If you would like to return home, Miyt, we can find a barge going back to Wumaltsmaas for you.”
Miyt made a rude sound. “You have not scared us off, Cheeyt. Stop thinking you will. I am asking so we are prepared.”
Tseetsaa stifled a giggle with her hand. Nuliyaa saw her look up and meet Tajak’s eyes before she froze and jerked her face away. What was it between Tseetsaa and the two Nengmekians?
Cheeyt was scowling, but she said, “All right. I’ll go back to the waterfront and find someone going to Riverport.” She looked at Nuliyaa. “We’ll probably need to stay here another night.”
“I’ll inform the innkeeper.”
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Sinchach was possibly her new favorite person.
They were three days out from Aapa Mapri and Nuliyaa felt, at most, tiny twinges in her belly. Being able to sit under the canvas tarp that had been stretched across the barge’s deck and watch the shore drift by was far preferable to hanging on its rail while everything inside of her body tried to exit through her throat.
The only reason she wasn’t completely certain he was her favorite person was his attitude.
“You have a teamster,” Sinchach argued with Cheeyt as he swung his arm toward Kachaark. “Why must I be responsible for the wagon?” Kachaark, sitting with his back propped up against a stack of crates, merely straightened his legs. He seemed content to let Cheeyt handle the assignments.
Nuliyaa sighed and pushed herself to her feet. They couldn’t lose their mage because Cheeyt offended or scared him.
Cheeyt spun around, saw Nuliyaa coming around the edge of their wagon, and said, “You deal with this before I toss him in the river.”
“We do need him,” Nuliyaa reminded her.
“That’s why I haven’t tossed him in the river yet.” Cheeyt stomped off. Singmij hid a smile by lifting up her belt to examine the spot she was repairing. Tajak maintained his blank mask.
“Kachaark is our teamster only when we don’t have a mage,” Nuliyaa explained to Sinchach. “Propelling the wagon is one of your duties, as stated on your contract. If you had an objection, why didn’t you bring it up when we signed the contract?”
Sinchach stared over her shoulder. He probably hadn’t even read the contract. He’d wanted to go home—considering that he would have to work on his way there most likely never entered his thoughts.
“What is your objection?” she tried again.
“If I’m responsible for the wagon, then I have to stay with the wagon.”
At least he had enough sense for that.
“Yes, that’s true.”
“I won’t be able to look for spell components.”
“We gave you a budget to buy the spell components you needed to get us to Nengmek.”
“Yes, I have everything I need for our journey, but—” he waved his arms, “there are so many things on this side of the river I could never find shopping at home! The flowers, trees, mushrooms—you just don’t understand how different they are!”
Nuliyaa was certain she heard Chesfi giggle. Singmij suddenly had to bend over her repairs. Kachaark had covered his face with a wide-brimmed straw hat and she saw it bounce up a little as though he’d laughed.
“Trees on that side look like all the other trees to me,” one of the crew muttered as she passed.
“I suppose I don’t,” Nuliyaa said, “however, you are not the client. You are an employee. Cheeyt has assigned you to the wagon, so your responsibility is the wagon.”
He spun and walked to the far end of the barge, the hem of his coat flaring behind him like a manifestation of the drama surrounding him.
Nuliyaa turned to see a pile of snapped-off wood planks and rope passing on the side. “What is that?” she asked.
Singmij followed her gaze. “A sunken vessel, I think.”
“It is,” one of the other crew members said. He was sitting on a barrel and repairing a net. “Used to be a pirate boat.”
“Pirates?” Nuliyaa stared at him. “On the river?”
“Yep.”
Singmij focused so completely on him that the man almost dropped the net. “Why were we not warned about pirate activity when we hired this barge?”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “There ain’t no pirates an’more. That’s from a coupl’a years ago now.”
“Ah.” Singmij relaxed. “Yes. I remember.” At Nuliyaa’s curious look, she explained, “There was an issue with a group of pirates almost three years ago. The Tewmisyu and Riverport authorities hunted them down and the river has been quiet since.”
“Oh. Good. We don’t need another reason for Cheeyt to panic about us.”
Singmij chuckled.