Wanderlust - Chapter 27: Chapter 27

"It isn't as simple as saying the port cities speak Teltish." Tanden paced in the middle of the room. His brothers, Clairia, Brilana, and the King and Queen were sitting at the head table. Other nobles from across New Teltar sat along either side of the room, and more guards than usual flanked the doorway. Tanden had spoken to large crowds before, his crew regularly, but even before that he'd never been shy. This crowd was certainly the most important he'd even stood up in front of. The noble families from Vasel and Lothin were attending, as were dozens of lesser lords from around the island. Tanden even picked out Acell's brother, Lord Atrick.
A lord he didn't recognize cleared his throat. "But, Lord Tanden, most of our business is with the port cities."
"That's exactly our problem," Tanden replied. "We are the outsiders. We arrived four hundred years ago and we forced Crelans and Native Zians under our rule. We all know that to be true. Whenever we show up in a foreign port, that's how the people think of us. We're tolerated, but not liked. I see it all the time. When I walk into a city, people expect the worst from me. So I make a point to speak the local language, and their behaviour towards me changes. Because to the merchant or barkeeper I'm talking to, that means I've made an effort. I'm respecting them and their culture while I'm a visitor in their city. It's the polite thing to do, and everyone involved benefits. We shouldn't continue acting like we're the dominant culture on this continent, because quite simply, we aren't."
There was a moment of silence around the room. King Edarius was nodding thoughfully. "What is it you're suggesting, Lord Tanden?"
"I believe that all navy ships which will be travelling to another country for any reason should be required to have a translator on board. Of course, we can't force the private merchants to follow those guidelines, but I believe that if the navy ships do it, the private ships will follow along. Those who can afford it, at least. It's much easier to get trading done when you can actually speak to the people you're trading with."
"While that makes sense, your suggestion will take a lot of work," King Edarius pointed out.
"The navies will have to invest in training translators," Tanden agreed. "Potentially the Order could work on offering this kind of training to the students. I certainly would have followed this line of study had it been available to me."
Lord Atrick waved his hand to get Tanden's attention. "How many languages do you speak, Lord Tanden?"
"Four. Teltish, Deoran, Navirian and Morcean. I'm an exception," Tanden said, and he at least made a little bit of effort to not sound like he was boasting. "I'm not suggesting every navy ship needs someone like me. But if a ship is heading to Morcea, they should have someone who can speak Morcean. I understand that it won't necessarily be easy, but the way our people are perceived will improve. I think that's worth the effort."
King Edarius nodded again. "You've given me quite a bit to think about, Lord Tanden. Thank you."
"Thank you for listening, your majesty." Tanden bowed before returning to his seat next to Tandar. One of the ladies got up to start her speech.
Tandar nudged his side. "And you say you're not a politician," he teased quietly.
"Like it or not, it's in my blood," Tanden replied.
On Tandar's other side, Brilana frowned at them and held a finger up to her lips. Tanden settled down in his chair and resigned himself to the rest of the speeches. At least they would be getting food relatively soon.
Another kick to the ribs woke Soren up and he rolled onto his side, coughing up water. Once he felt like he could finally get a full breath, he collapsed back onto his back. The first thing he noticed was that the sky had darkened. Then he realized that he was looking at a wooden ceiling, not the sky.
"Thought Lorca had killed you for awhile there."
Soren didn't have the energy to sit up. He titled his head so he could see Toliver, sitting on a low wooden box nearby. His throat felt raw from the salt water, but he forced himself to speak. "What do you want?"
"Didn't I say? I want to destroy Lord Tanden."
"How?"
"It's adorable that you think asking that again is going to get you an answer, mate."
With a groan, Soren pushed himself to sit up. He was next to yet another stack of crates, and he leaned back against it. It didn't seem like he was in immediate danger, and that thought helped him clear his mind. Gingerly, he touched the side of his jaw where Toliver had first hit him. It hurt, but it wasn't excruciating.
They were in the cargo hold of a ship, but it wasn't the Hiraeth. Maybe that was something Toliver would talk about. "Where are we?"
"How 'bout you give up on the questioning mate? It isn't going to work."
Soren sighed. "Toliver, please. I can settle things with Tanden, I swear on Roe that I can. But this escalation is just going to make him angry. He'll come after you. And if I'm too badly hurt, or... dead... there'll be no stopping him."
"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," Toliver said. "So, about what happened before you tried to drown yourself. I'm a tad offended, mate. I thought you said you loved me."
Soren perked up a little bit. He valued his life far more than he valued his pride. "I'll do anything for you. It was Lorca I didn't want to touch. Why don't we—you could—"
"Fuck you?"
Soren flinched. "If you want to upset Tanden, that'll do it, and I can make it worth your while. Maybe we could come to an agreement. If I do a good job, you could let me go?"
Toliver shook his head and stood up. "I should have gagged you. Lorca! Come on, get him up."
Lorca lumbered over from out of sight. He roughly grabbed Soren's arm and yanked him to his feet. Soren's arms still felt heavy and weak. He tried uselessly to pull away as Lorca held his arms behind his back. Soren's fear flooded back.
"Toliver, please..."
"You had a chance on the pier, mate. Settle down." Toliver pulled a piece of cloth from the pocket of his jacket.
Lorca held him firmly as Toliver forced Soren's mouth open and shoved the cloth inside. He gave Soren's cheek a condescending pat. "Try to keep quiet, mate. Take it with some dignity." From behind the box he'd been sitting on, Toliver pulled out a wooden pole, like the broken end of an oar. He looked over Soren's shoulder. "Lorca, watch yourself, mate." Then he held up the pole and swung it towards Soren's stomach.
Tanden's stomach grumbled as a servant slid a bowl in front of him. He wanted to pick up his spoon and dig in, but he knew better. Further down the table, Tandrael had gotten to his feet.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he spoke loudly, and even the servants started to move more quietly so they wouldn't interrupt him. "We have had a productive afternoon, and I'm sure we all have plenty more to discuss. But first, it is time to eat! My cooks have created a special feast, in honour of all of ours guests today, and inspired by the cities of New Teltar."
"There are only three cities," Tanden muttered under his breath.
Beside him, Tandar chuckled quietly. "Just listen."
"Our first course is a rabbit soup from Vasil, accompanied by bread from Lothin. The dessert is a surprise, a specialty West Draulin bakers have been making for four hundred years," Tandrael paused. "And our main course was created in honour of my youngest brother, using spices he brought us from Morcea. Tanden brings us fascinating things from around the world, and I hope this meal will further make the case for hiring translators in our navies. Regardless, please enjoy the food and drinks!"
Tanden couldn't help but grin as Tandrael sat back down. "A meal dedicated to me?"
"Don't let it get to your head," Tandar laughed. "Just eat."
"Oh, gladly," Tanden agreed, picking up his spoon.
Soren was only vaguely aware of being moved, then dropped. He could hear Toliver and Lorca talking, maybe another voice or two he couldn't place. It took a lot of effort to open his eyes, but he finally managed.
They were on top of a deck now. The sky, it really was the sky this time, was turning into a dark purple. Which didn't seem right, because the sun was right there. Soren tried to shift to get a better look at the sun, but it was too bright and too close. Toliver was holding it.
Then Toliver was beside him. "Try to stay awake, mate. This won't work nearly as well if you die."
Then the sun was all around him.
The lords and ladies had nothing but good things to say about the spicy chicken that had been cooked for the main course, which cheered Tanden up immensely. Dessert was a delicious pastry filled with cooked apples from down the coast. The meal was delicious, and Tanden enjoyed it. But then it was time for the discussions to start again.
At least he was allowed to keep his wine. Tanden slouched back in his chair, holding his glass and watching the liquid swirl around. He took an occasional sip, and when the glass emptied a servant was there to fill it back up. He lost count of how many glasses he'd had.
In the middle of a particularly boring talk about the quality of crops along the Eastern coast, there was an interruption. Guards burst into the room, nearly dragging somebody between them. Tanden sat up suddenly, intrigue breaking through his boredom. The man was tossed to the floor in the middle of the court.
"Your majesty," one of the guards said hurriedly. "My apologies for interrupting. This man was found burning your ship. We saved most of the ship, but we knew we had to inform you of this act of treason immediately."
Tanden didn't really understand what had happened until he felt Tandar's hand clamp around his wrist. That was when he realized that he'd jumped to his feet so quickly that his chair had fallen over. That was when he realized that he knew who the man was.
He wrenched his wrist from Tandar's hand and hurried around the table. The guards warily took a step back as Tanden rushed towards them and dropped to a crouch in front of their prisoner.
Soren was on his knees, leaning forward on shaking arms. He looked terrible. His face was darkened by smoke that didn't quite hide the bruising on his jaw. There was another bruise around his neck, and his tunic was spotted with blood. His breathing sounded ragged, like he couldn't quite pull in a full breath.
Tanden wanted to touch him, but he couldn't tell what to touch without hurting him. Then he remembered what the guards had said and he stood up, turning to face the head table. "Rael, you know he wouldn't," he said frantically. "Please—" He cut himself off as soon as Tandrael nodded, and turned to the guards. "What happened?"
The first guard cleared his thoat. "The King's ship went up in flames. We knew we had to put it out before the fire spread, and we managed it. Then we found him lying on the deck. He must have breathed in too much smoke and passed out."
"Are you an idiot?" Tanden snapped. "He's been beaten! Do you think he beat himelf up after lighting the ship on fire?"
"My lord, I—"
"Shut up," Tanden snarled. He didn't give the guard a chance to say anything else before crouching again. "Soren, look at me. Please."
Soren raised his head a little. Conscious of the bruise on his jaw, and knowing there might be more under the smoke, Tanden gently brushed some of Soren's hair away from his eyes. Miraculously, his eyes looked all right. Reddened from smoke, but otherwise unhurt.
Tanden forgot the court, the lord and ladies, the King and Queen. He kissed Soren, in front of all of them, without giving them a single thought. Then he kissed Soren's forehead, and very gently pulled him into a hug. "Can you stand?"
"Aye," Soren whispered after a moment.
Tanden let Soren drape an arm over his shoulders, then helped him get to his feet. Soren leaned onto him heavily. His head lolled to the side, and he started to slip as he passed out.
Acell appeared under Soren's other arm. "Let's get him to a physician, sir," he suggested quietly.
Tanden nodded, and together, they carried Soren from the room.