Trade Circle: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 3) Page 18

  “We were knocked unconscious by their weapons,” Kavari said. Her Occ was missing and neither she nor Komati had their pistols.

  “Where is the Judge on Duty?” Chief Komati demanded. They had been promised technology, and the fact that he was empty handed, one Trade Ambassador short, and demanding to see a Judge meant trouble.

  “Where’s my dad?” Laos asked again, running beside him, afraid he’d knock her flat if she stood in his way. The Judge’s tent was in the center of the camp, but at evening meal, the Judge on Duty could be anywhere.

  “Ambassador Kassa is under their influence. And he’s bringing them here,” Komati warned.

  “Sound the alarm,” Caira ordered. “Tolen, form a shadow guard for the Ambassador.”

  “He should have taken me with him,” Tolen growled.

  “Guard, do as you’ve been instructed. Cancel the general alarm, though,” Judge Marius Kassa said, breaking through the crowd and holding up his hands. Marius, Laos’ grandfather, had smooth, soft, golden skin and only the slightest threads of silver through his straight, black hair. He couldn’t walk as far or as fast as he used to since he’d gotten arthritis in his toes last year, but the light sheen of perspiration on his face and neck told Laos that he’d run to meet the trade party. On seeing him, Kavari collapsed against Caira in relief.

  “They don’t want to hurt us,” Laos said, thinking of the Oriana girl she’d seen that first night.

  “Were you shot today, Scout? I was shot today,” Komati snapped.

  “You’re well enough to complain, Albie,” Kavari panted.

  “Were you able to heal their sick?” Laos asked urgently.

  “Not with what I had. Their ambassador is coming here to receive medicine,” Kavari told the Judge.

  “And bringing Sky the Bandit with her,” Komati added belligerently. The mention of the Bandit sent a whisper through the crowd. Ever since Brishen’s report yesterday, rumors had been flying.

  “We should take this discussion to my tent,” the Judge said, motioning Kavari and Komati to follow.

  “It’s simple!” Laos said, jumping in front of him. “Let’s have the medicine ready for them before they cross our borders. My dad can come home and we can send them away.”

  “Scout, let me handle this,” he said, cradling her cheek gently. She started to protest, but he silenced her with his wise, endearing smile.

  “Did you see the one who shot you? Was it the Bandit?” Marius asked Komati quietly as they walked.

  “They called her Sky,” Komati answered.

  “Judge, I knew that girl from my youth. Your son may be under her spell, but it is not the Bandit; he is bringing us Adita,” Kavari said, her voice hushed. “The one who stole our Seer.”

  “That cannot be!” Marius exclaimed.

  “Adita!” Caira cried. “No. No, we can’t let her come back now. She can’t!”

  “Why?” Laos demanded, skipping alongside. “Who is she?”

  “Scout. This is not your concern,” the Judge said, frowning and pointing at her to go.

  Laos barely got out a squeak of protest before Brishen clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her away. Kicking and struggling, Laos watched the Judge and Trade party disappear into the Judge’s tent. Grabbing Brishen’s arms, she tried to tear him off and wrestle him to the ground, but she couldn’t budge him. Laos was used to her brothers immobilizing her in a match, but never Brishen. All these years, he’d been holding back his true strength. Changing tactics, she tried tripping his foot, but it was like fighting with a statue. Desperately, she bit his arm, and finally he moved. As if awakening to the realization that she needed to fight, he let her wrestle him to the ground. He pinned her just long enough to let her know he could win if he wanted to, but then he let her flip him, and she pinned him.

  He gazed at her with soft, sympathetic eyes, breaking one hand free so that he could caress the hair from her face. “The Judge will bring your dad home,” he said.

  “I shouldn’t have gone with him this morning,” Laos moaned, her body quivering. “I slowed him down. The Nayak got to the Trade Circle first, and then there was violence, and he had to bring me home instead of going straight to their vessel.”

  “The Oriana needed a doctor,” Brishen pointed out. “The trade party would have come here either way.”

  “They could have gone to the Trade Circle with the remedy. We know everywhere they’ve been and everything they’ve touched. It’s obvious they contracted the Havara Pytr,” Laos muttered.

  Brishen laughed and stroked her hair. “Not to everyone. It’s not your fault. Your father has been searching for Adita since before we were born.”

  “Oh, that Adita.” Laos closed her eyes, fighting for composure. “I need to be with my mom. This is going to kill her.”

  She pressed her cheek to Brishen’s hand, wishing they were having this conversation in the privacy of a tent rather than in the middle of a major thoroughfare. Brishen’s fingers stroked her jawline, guiding her face down so that she could cry on his shoulder . . . or so she thought. Before she knew what was happening, his eyelashes fluttered against her cheek. Her eyes flying open, Laos jerked back, scrambling away from Brishen, feeling betrayed.

  “Sorry,” he said, failing to hide a smirk.

  “No you’re not. You’re gloating!” she accused, jumping to her feet and running. “What is wrong with me?!”

  “Where are you going?” Brishen called after her.

  “To find my mom!” she cried.

  24

  Tray wasn’t the only one unhappy about the situation Sky had roped them into. Komati and Kavari, when they came to, fought with Kassa for nearly an hour, and Kassa waved them off, trying to placate them with canteens and ice packs. Even worse, he’d sent them ahead to the Drava village before guiding Tray and Sky there. Tray was so prepared for things to go sideways that he had changed into running shoes. He wore a jade green shirt with a tacky geometric print that seemed in keeping with the style of the Drava. Kassa smiled when he saw it, and Tray hoped that meant he could trade the shirt for his life if necessary. The jacket he wore over it was black and equally old, though not tattered enough to be deemed offensive in any circles outside of the Quin elitists. Beneath the clothes, he concealed his brother’s hunting knife, a stunner, and a mini shock-dart. Only children and little old ladies carried mini darts like that—Tray had had paper cuts that hurt worse than the shock a mini dart inflicted—but Tray wasn’t good with knives and guns, and he didn’t have Danny or Saskia looking out for him . . . or even Sky for that matter.

  Sky walked next to Kassa the entire journey, and Tray trailed a few steps behind, feeling like the third wheel on their date. She fawned and caressed, distracting Kassa to the point where he wandered off the path a few times. Tray checked his Virp every time that happened to make notes on his map. He could see their history in the way Kassa’s eyes misted when he looked at her and in the way he craved her touch. Tray didn’t like that she was using him, but he felt more comfortable with the notion that she was asking an old friend for help than that she was seducing a stranger.

  “Shh!” Tray said, freezing and dropping to a crouch. He glanced around, trying to find the sound that had triggered the panic response. Kassa gave a passing glance to the left, failing to hide a superior smirk.

  “We’re nearing their settlement,” Sky explained, coming next to Tray.

  The assurance only made Tray tenser. He glanced into the trees, checking for defensive measures. Now that Sky and Kassa had stopped talking, he could hear it more clearly—the sounds of laughter and children playing. Sky placed her hand on Tray’s elbow and they walked a little ways further, then the entire woods lit up as the Drava camp came into view. It was huge!

  Stumbling and staring, Tray placed his hand over Sky’s and held onto her, letting her guide him into a village that looked neither portable nor temporary. The smell of fresh-cooked meat filled the air making Tray’s mouth water. There were a few
domesticated animals tied to posts and nibbling on brush. Tray had expected a few tents and a crudely motorized wagon, but the Drava had a mixture of technologies from basic carts to nuclear powered land vehicles.

  Sky let go of his elbow and directed him to hold out his arm palm down, then she rested her arm over his, placing her hand on top, and lacing their fingers. She gave him a firm look, and Tray guessed there was a social protocol involved, so he accepted the escort position. Kassa frowned, but kept his hands by his side and continued leading the way.

  They invoked whispers among the people they passed, like visiting dignitaries. One young girl came forward, offering Sky a wreath made of yellow flowers. Sky smiled and crowned the young girl with the wreath, telling her to go forth and be beautiful. It was obvious the gesture was unexpected and flattering, because the whispers bloomed into awed, benevolent chatter.

  The Lanvarian accents were thick to the point where Tray could barely pick out words through the noise. The one word he did hear over and over was ‘golden,’ and he assumed it was in reference to Sky. Everyone else here had dark skin like his.

  Kassa led them to a red, square tent deeply embedded in the village. An elderly man sat inside, making notes on an antique Virclutch ledger. Given the fact that Tray was walking into a tent, he found even that technology anachronistic. Kassa’s nod to the man was familial and informal, and they greeted each other in thickly-accented Lanvarian. Then Kassa turned to Tray, speaking slowly, his accent disappearing.

  “Ambassador Tray Matthews, this is Judge Marius Kassa.”

  “The tribe is ruled by a counsel of seven judges. We’ll meet the others later, I’m sure,” Sky said, dropping her voice. Tray nodded, suddenly wishing he were in more formal attire. It was ridiculous because the clothing he had on was in better condition than either the Judge or Ambassador. He assumed they were father and son. Having spent most of his teens riding his father’s coattails to get in the good graces of Quin officials, Tray understood the dynamic between the two men he now faced. There was no discernible tension between them to take advantage of, so his best bet for getting the medicine was to stay in the good graces of both.

  “Marius, it is good to see you well,” Sky greeted warmly, dropping Tray’s arm and kneeling across from the Judge.

  Marius squinted, and then his eyes widened. “The reports are true! Adita, I did not believe I would see you again before I died,” he said breathlessly, as though greeting a long, lost daughter. He was not as skilled as Sidney at dropping his accent, but at least Tray could understand most of his words. “Who is this you’ve brought before me?”

  “A traveler, like myself,” Sky said, cupping her hands like she was holding water. “His people rescued me, and now I am returning the favor.”

  Marius closed his hands over Sky’s and pressed her palms together. Tray wondered at the ritual, wishing Sky had had the courtesy to brief him on the customs of this place.

  “Does he speak?” Marius asked.

  Sky gave Tray a nod. Tray stood formally, keeping his hands by his side; he did not want to sit. “Yes, Judge Marius Kassa, I do,” he said. The word ‘sir’ almost slipped out, but Tray worried about how it’d translate.

  “These are the ones who wanted medicine?” Marius asked Sidney.

  “They are prepared to trade for it,” Sidney nodded, kneeling next to Marius. Tray could tell by the carefully measured tone of each man’s voice that they were in disagreement. Sidney kept looking at Sky, his eyes shining with glee. “We have not agreed on a barter, yet. I thought their Trade Ambassador would better understand our needs if he came here.”

  The father and son exchanged a look, then began arguing in hushed, thickly accented Lanvarian. Sky tugged Tray’s hand, but Tray was more inclined to run than kneel. When Sky gave up pulling him and simply hooked her hand through his belt and held on, Tray worried even more.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Tray asked in Terranan, squatting low enough for Sky to link arms with him again. He was glad to have an alternate language with her.

  “No. That’s a family dispute,” Sky said, switching languages as well. “We should’ve brought the solar panel.”

  “What happened to dinner and a massage?” Tray teased.

  “If I’m understanding them correctly, Ambassador Kassa is engaged. He’s arguing that nothing is formalized yet, and he all but proposed to me back on Oriana. He’s ready to throw away his life for me, and I’m not going to let him.

  “Aww. Look at you being moral,” Tray snickered, patting the back of her hand. “Do you think they’ll give us the medicine without upfront payment?”

  “I’m more worried they’ll gouge my eyes out,” Sky said pensively.

  “Is that a Drava marriage ritual,” Tray joked, desperate to ease her nervousness. “We don’t have to do this, Sky. We know the name of the disease and that the medicine exists. We can trade elsewhere for a cure. Let’s get out of here.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sky shook her head, squeezing his hand one last time before letting go of his arm. It was more terrifying than when she’d clung to him.

  Sky’s last request before leaving the Drava was that they not cut out the eyes of the Seer they’d captured. She couldn’t tell by Sidney and Marius’ argument whether they’d complied or not, but it was a sore spot between the men. She didn’t like hearing her name mixed with talk of the dead Seer or that they referred to the woman disdainfully as “the vessel.”

  “I can’t watch her die like that,” Sidney hissed. “The other one decayed so quickly. Never once told us the future. Never once hinted that the Seer spirit was real!”

  “Because the spirit was stolen and there was nothing left to keep the vessel alive,” Marius argued, pulling Sidney back, and turning his body for privacy.

  “Or there never was a spirit,” Sidney argue, throwing off his father’s grip. “It has nothing to do with Adita.”

  The longer Sky listened, the more Spirit twisted at the corners of her senses, swelling like choppy seawater, threatening to pull her under. Sky didn’t know if Spirit could sense the fate of the last Seer or if it was her own misgivings that made the acid churn in her stomach.

  “Perhaps we can get some air while you two discuss,” Tray suggested, putting a hand on Sky’s arm. Sky felt bile rising.

  “Yes. Yes, Adita take him to the Social Circle. I will join you there,” Sidney said quickly, reaching out for her.

  “Sidney!” Marius cried, grabbing his hand.

  “We will talk to the council of Judges,” Sidney continued, glaring at his father. “Their people were infected by Havara Pytr. They will be dead in hours without medicine.”

  Marius conceded, and motioned a guard to escort them to the Social Circle for the evening meal. Sky shivered, too sick to eat. A few of the village elders recognized her and exclaimed over her well-preserved condition. It was odd to see them old. She tried to play the grateful and vulnerable prodigal daughter, but the more agitated Spirit became, the harder it was to keep her thoughts in the present, and so she stared at the fire, willing Spirit to be calm.

  “That’s her—she came to the Trade Circle this morning,” Tray whispered, squeezing in next to Sky again, careful not to spill his food plate. This might have been his third helping of venison chowder; Sky had lost count.

  Sky followed Tray’s gaze across the Social Circle. A young scout girl with long, wavy hair clung to the arm of a warrior. When they walked properly, it was easy to tell they were siblings.

  “Pretty,” Sky commented.

  “Yeah,” Tray said, sighing in that horny, pining way that was normally reserved for lovesick teens. “She keeps looking at me.”

  “Wishful thinking,” Sky said, wishing she could smack him upside the head without her actions being misinterpreted by the Drava.

  “She’s coming over,” Tray hissed, smoothing his collar frantically.

  “Are you seriously going teen crush on me now?” Sky complained, gaping at him in disbelief.
In addition to her obviously overprotective, warrior brother, the young girl had three other men of various professions flanking her. Tray shot Sky a look, then sat up straight and tried to appear dignified and welcoming. The girl walked right past him, her gaze never turning to the side. Sidney appeared, and the scout greeted him with an eager hug. The men with her formed a barrier between her and Tray.

  “I don’t think she was looking at you,” Sky teased, chuckling as Tray’s cheeks turned red.

  “She was this morning,” Tray said, broodingly stirring his chowder. “She smiled and . . . I was ready to follow her anywhere. If it weren’t for her, Hawk and I would’ve kept running.”

  Sky rolled her eyes at him. A simple twist of fate and Tray’s libido had brought this about. Sky wanted to throttle him.

  The wall of men parted and Sidney came forward, presenting the young woman.

  “Ambassador Matthews, this is the Trade Scout you met this morning,” Sidney said. Formality dictated that he address Tray, but Sidney was looking at Sky. The girl tried to sit next to Tray, but Sidney weaseled in protectively and sat between them. “She is still learning the dialects of trade, perhaps you can teach her yours.”

  “I’m sure I could try,” Tray said eagerly.

  “I am Laos,” the girl said, pressing her palm to her chest to emphasize the words. The move was all the invitation Tray needed to stare at her chest and Sky had to elbow him to get his eyes back to the woman’s face.

  “Can you entertain us with a story of your travels,” Laos said pleasantly. “Perhaps tell us how your airship took on so much damage.”

  “I have more entertaining stories than that,” Tray laughed.

  “Do not tell them it’s a spaceship,” Sky hissed in his ear.

  He chuckled nervously, but if there was one skill Tray had, it was telling entertaining stories about nothing in particular. Sky was glad for the distraction. The stories he told, even though they had to be translated through Sidney, had the circle of spectators hanging onto his every word. As the sun set, the fire and the sound of Tray’s voice were the only soothes Sky had to fight off Spirit.