“I believe those are the kind of ships that have not been seen in an age,” Balam said. “They are meant for long voyages, not the sort of seafaring we do along the coast of the Crescent Sea.”
“Where else would one sail?” Powageh asked.
“And why?” Tuun echoed.
“I suspect we will find out very soon.” Their overloaded barges drew alongside the sleek black and silver vessels like lumbering sea turtles approaching a school of barracudas. Balam glanced up at the ten-story palace mound before them. He saw people gathering along the tiers, leaning over the wooden fences to watch them. He suspected the Sovran of Hokaia waited at the top to greet them, and beside him, no doubt, stood the owners of these fine-sailed ships. He smiled despite himself. Another player on the board but one not entirely unexpected. In fact, it solved the problem of a sea attack quite nicely. If they were willing to play.
* * *
Balam watched from land as their entourage assembled on the pier. Even more people had gathered to watch the Cuecolans, and Lord Pech with his loud nasal whine was putting on quite the show. He stood on the pier in his yellow and red box headdress and insisted he required an honor guard of at least twelve men, while Sinik and Tuun argued that too many soldiers would be a threat and four for each lord would be sufficient.
On the other side of the dock, Cuecolan servants were loading great baskets with the riches of the merchant city: gold, jade, feathers, and bolts of fine woven cloth. Balam surmised it would be some time before their assembly was ready. He took the opportunity to meander down the docks. He let his gaze roam over the idling crowd but did not see the familiar face he was looking for. Patient, he wandered a bit farther until he was walking along the dock where the mysterious black and silver ships were anchored. They were even more impressive up close, their hulls shaped to cut through the waters at high speed. He suspected they could not hold many people or goods, but they were not meant to. He bent and ran his hand along the rail on the nearest vessel, enchanted by the possibilities of such technology.
“Hands off,” drawled a feminine voice. “Don’t you know it’s impolite to touch a lady’s ship without permission?”
He looked up to find a woman, no more than thirty, lounging at the far end of the ship. Her hair curled thick and dark around a heart-shaped face, and big blue eyes the color of island waters sparkled over wide cheeks. Her skin was the color of her ship, as black as night, and her smile flashed in challenge. He hadn’t noticed her there, hidden behind the sail spar, but now that he had, he wondered how he had missed her.
He smiled his most disarming smile. “I am only admiring beauty where I see it.”
She grinned, eyes alight. “Aye, you’re quite a beauty yourself. A bit old for my usual, but I’m willing to take you for a ride… on my ship.” She winked exaggeratedly. “What do you say?”
He took the opportunity to step down into the vessel and sit on one of the small, narrow benches. “My name is Lord Balam.”
“I don’t usually keep my passengers around long enough to learn their names,” she said, leaning back, arms and legs wide in loose-cut pants, “but I never had a lord on board before. Sounds promising. Tell me, Lord Balam, is there a difference between a lord and a regular man?”
“There are many differences.”
“I mean in the boom and thrust. Where it counts.”
He laughed.
“Nice hat, too.”
He touched a hand to his headdress, long white feathers on a golden crown.
“How does a man like you, all in white, stay so clean?”
He tilted his head, catching the shift in her tone, the slight mockery. “Who says I do?”
She laughed at that, and the moment of tension faded as if he had misheard. But he had not, and he marked it as a warning.
Someone called his name, and Balam turned to see Powageh waving furiously. Pech was already leading the group toward the palace mound, trailing guards and gift-bearing servants.
Balam straightened, brushing his hands off. “It seems my friends are calling me.”
“A pity,” she said, sighing heavily. “I was hoping we could be friends.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Alani.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time for a tour of your ship, Alani, but I appreciate the offer.” He let his eyes linger on her form and was rewarded with a grin.
“But you’ll come back, eh? I mean, if you survive.” Again there was that hint of portent in her tone.