Joseph Lewis - Halcyon

“But executions are? But war is?”

He was silent.

“People kill people, Kenan,” she said. “Sometimes for money, or orders, or passion, or just by accident. In the great scheme of things, the death itself is always all the same. People die. The only thing that matters is why. What was in the killer’s heart? Hate and greed? Or honor and duty?”

“What was in your heart?” he asked.

She shrugged. “That I needed the money, and that the world would probably be a better place without my marks in it. It’s not like I was hired by sadistic monsters to kill innocent children. I was hired by monsters to kill other monsters. At least in the old days. In Marrakesh, I was mostly hired by the victims to kill the monsters. I tried to tell you this before.”

He nodded and looked away. “Yeah, you did.”

“So? What do you say?”

Kenan moved over next to her and looked her in the eye. “No more killing?”

“No more killing.” She smiled.

He’s cute when he tries to lose an argument gracefully.

“All right then. Agyeman and Dumah Investigations. We’ll give it a try.”

She kissed him. “Dumah and Agyeman.” And she reached for his belt buckle.

He glanced across the narrow compartment at their snoring prisoner. “Here? Now?”

She grinned.

I think I’ll name our daughter Ziva.

Shifrah pulled him to her. “Here. And definitely now.”

The customs inspector at the pier had fixed an unpleasant eye on the sword strapped to the dwarf’s back and to the second sword rattling on Salvator’s hip, but the Italian quickly allayed the official’s concerns with a fistful of coins and a few choice words in Eranian that might have been misconstrued to mean that both of the travelers were close personal friends with a certain Master Rashaken.

The two men climbed the gangway and paced along the deck of the Hellan steamer to stand near the bow and watch the other passengers board.

“Is it very cold in Constantia?” Salvator asked.

“Cold-ish.” Tycho shrugged. “Why? Thinking of visiting? I thought you had a sword to deliver to your king in Rome or somewhere.”

“This?” Salvator patted the second blade sheathed below his rapier. After seeing the brilliant white blaze of the dwarf’s sword, he had taken the brightest of the surviving seireikens scattered around the rail yard before the local scavengers arrived to pick the bodies clean. The Italian shook his head. “I can hand this off to another agent in Athens when we change ships. There’s no need for me to deliver it in person.”

“You’d let someone else take the credit?”

“Of course not. I’ve already sent five letters to my associates at court to inform His Majesty that the sword is en route. They’ll know the truth of the matter.”

“Five?”

Salvator smiled. “You can’t trust the postal service, my young friend. Not in any country or any age. Are you sure you wouldn’t be willing to trade souvenirs?”

“No,” Tycho said quietly. “Philo died searching for this sword. I nearly died as well. But when I bring it to my Lady Nerissa, and she presents it to the prince of Vlachia, it will change the world. With Vlachia at our side, Raska and Rus will surely follow. The war with Eran will come to a head, and then it will end, and my city will be safe. Truly safe.”

Salvator raised an eyebrow. “Or, your alliance will call down the full might of the Empire, utterly destroying three northern nations as well as your little town.” He paused. “An extra ten darics for it?”

“No.” Tycho looked up. “Would you say I’m an attractive man?”

Salvator grinned. “No. But a woman probably would. Why?”

“I was just thinking that when I return, I’ll be a hero, right? Heroes get rewards. Honors. Money. Not that I did this for a reward, but if a reward was offered, it would only be polite to accept it, right?”

“Of course. Twenty darics?”

“No. And then, well,” the dwarf shrugged, “it would only be natural for a young lady to hold me in a higher esteem. If I was a hero, I mean. Wouldn’t she?”

“Is this a particular young lady, or a hypothetical one?”

“A hypothetical one,” Tycho said slowly. “With long black hair that shimmers red in the sunlight, and a lovely singing voice…and very muscular legs.”

“Oh, her?” Salvator nodded sagely. “She would be most impressed by your heroics, without question. Thirty darics?”

“No.” Tycho drummed on the white-handled revolver on his hip. “Does the gun make me look dangerous and exotic? Or no? I think I rather like it.”

Salvator frowned. “I hate guns. They’re for cowards and monsters.”

“I love this one.” Tycho threw a wicked grin up at the Italian. “With a gun like this, a person like me can fight a person like you. And that scares you, doesn’t it?”

Yes, it most certainly does.

“Forty darics?”

“No.”

When the train finally came to a stop in the Tingis station, Taziri was the first to climb down and feel Mazigh soil under her boots and see the Mazigh stars overhead. She quickly found the yardmaster and oversaw the uncoupling of the Halcyon, and watched a small steam tram shunt the special locomotive off into a siding where it would be safe and out of the way. By then, everyone else had woken up and disembarked.

Kenan and Shifrah wrangled their semi-conscious prisoner onto the platform. The detective paused. “Thanks for your help, captain.”

I guess he found his place in the world after all. It definitely worked out for me this week, at least. Taziri nodded. “Thanks for yours. Just keep her out of trouble.” She nodded at the one-eyed woman in white.

Kenan grinned. “I’ll try. Be seeing you.” And they left.

Taziri found Qhora and Mirari waiting at the end of the platform. “Come on,” she said softly. “Someone’s waiting for you.”

“And you,” the weary princess said.

They walked the long mile from the train station uphill across four intersections to the quiet old neighborhood where the Ohana house stood at the end of a paved street dotted with slender elm trees. Taziri opened the front door and saw the men in the living room.

Alonso was snoring in the armchair in the corner. Little Javier lay sprawled across the young man’s chest, drooling and whimpering.

Yuba sat on the sofa with Menna curled up in his lap. They both looked up from the book they were reading. “Mommy!” Menna dashed across the room and Taziri scooped her up and swung her through the air before crushing the little girl to her chest.

Qhora quietly picked up her baby and Mirari gently woke Alonso, and Taziri backed out of the room with Yuba to give the others a moment alone.

“You’re back.” Yuba smiled and wrapped his arms around them both.

“It took a little longer than I thought. Sorry.”

He kissed her. “You’re here. That’s all that matters. Did it go all right?”

Did it go all right? Flying across the entire continent, chasing criminals, hiding from the authorities, meeting a goddess, and fighting off a cult of assassins with burning swords full of enslaved souls? Did that “go all right”?

Taziri smiled. “Yeah. It went all right. We got the bad guy and came home in one piece.”

“Good work, honey.” He kissed her again.

“I missed you, Mommy,” Menna said. “Did you bring me something?”

Taziri laughed. “No, I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t bring you anything. But I do have a story for you.” She looked up at Yuba. “And I have a new invention that’s going to pay for all the new greenhouses you could want.”