King's Ransom

CHAPTER ONE: CAPITULATION

The day Katyria's father surrendered the kingdom of Salbatora to the Urit Empire, his head was nailed above the front gates. Other than that, the Uriti generals kept to their promised terms.

Katyria wiped salt spray from her face and pulled Franze closer to her knees. He whispered about the indignity to his rag bunny, but didn't struggle to move away. She wrapped their father's hunting cloak tighter around them both to fend off the blustery air, but it did nothing to melt the ice in her stomach. Her little brother was too young to understand what was happening. She envied him.

They had lost their father, their home, and soon, their freedom. Her chest tightened. She was only sixteen. No one would think less of her for crying, but Katyria was through bawling like an orphaned calf. The Uriti would not get that satisfaction. She lifted her chin higher.

On the dock, Dontien stood rigid, surrounded by imperial soldiers. The crown kept sliding down her brother's forehead, forcing him to push it back up. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and his skin was so pale, Katyria thought he might faint. He had a long way to go to fill their father's place. No one had expected it to be required so soon.

"Good luck, Dontien." The deck of the ship surged under Katyria, and she nearly stumbled. The hawsers creaked and moaned. Not even the sheltered bay protected them from the storm.

"Kat..." Her brother swallowed. "I'm sorry." He stared up at the ominous sky, blinking his eyes rapidly.

"I don't blame you."

Dontien shook his head. "This is my fault. I didn't think. I didn't know."

"Just...do the right thing now. You have to take care of everyone." She glanced at the Uriti satrap standing beside her brother. Dontien was only ostensibly in charge. The satrap would no doubt ensure that all decisions ultimately benefited the empire. "Don't let them bully you too much, eh?"

Dontien attempted a smile, but only managed a queasy grimace. The satrap regarded her solemnly and said nothing.

The sailors called to each other and began moving around the deck with the smooth dance of a professional crew. They wound ropes and raised small sails in preparation for sailing in front of the gale.

"I'll do everything in my power to bring you home. You know I will." Dontien's boyish face held a strain that had never been there before.

"They don't let hostages go home. If you can do anything, get Franze back. Promise!"

"I promise," he said. "May the gods watch over you."

He turned away as the creaking ship slid away from the wharf. Franze peeked through a gap in the cloak and waved his chubby fist good-bye.

****

As they reached the end of the natural harbor, the passage grew rougher. The high wind stoked the water into foamy ridges, and the ship bucked and rocked when it rounded the point. Katyria had spent almost as much time at sea as on land during her lifetime. Only fools would continue into such a storm. Franze giggled when the deck tilted wildly. She grabbed his arm and the railing, barely preventing them from tumbling into the open hatchway. Why couldn't they wait until things calmed down? Returning to Urit couldn't be that urgent.

The vessel leveled out and Katyria led Franze over to the captain. "Are you mad?"

The captain grinned, her eyes alight. "Don't you worry. The gods won't let us drown."

Katyria rolled her eyes. Neither Daybringer nor Nightstealer would lift a single divine finger to help idiots. But, the woman probably worshipped the Five. Maybe her gods were more forgiving of stupidity.

Franze clung to Katyria's leg like a limpet, and she steadied them against a capstan. She should go inside. Dry off. Settle in to her imprisonment. But, this might be the last time they ever saw their home. It was worth enduring even the most wretched conditions. As they rose on a wave, she caught sight of the stone towers of the small Salbatoran castle jutting above the pines.

Zyrta Tyr Ha, the Uriti ambassador, nodded to Katyria as he joined the captain by the wheel. "Princess. I'm pleased you are here to witness what it means to be granted the favor of the Five."

The captain nudged Katyria with an elbow. "He'll make sure they protect our little fleet."

If the gods were taking requests, Katyria hoped a wave would sweep him and the rest of the Uriti off the deck instead.

The ambassador braced himself against the rear mast and drew a gold box from the sash tied around his waist. He examined the object and adjusted several tiny dials. His lips moved, but the wind and distance muffled any sounds. Then he brought one edge to his lips and blew.

Nothing happened. The wind and waves continued to toss the ship back and forth between them, and a sputtering rain pelted the deck. Was this supposed to be the prayer magic that intimidated country after country into surrendering without a fight? Had her father given up the kingdom for a fairy story?

The wind gradually shifted until it came from the aft, and the flapping of the canvas quieted. The captain signalled for the main sails to be unfurled, and sailors, who must have been poised ready for the order, hoisted them with quick efficiency. The ship still dipped into the canyons of the waves before rising on their crests, but it rode them purposefully instead of like a toy cast into a whirlpool. Did the ambassador really do magic or had it been coincidence?

Zyrta tucked the box back in his sash and nodded smugly to them before descending back into the depths of the ship.

The captain winked, but was too busy shouting orders to speak to her.

Katyria looked back. One last glimpse of the log houses squatting behind the wooden palisade that couldn't protect them. The docks where her father taught her to fish, now overrun with war galleons and orange-sashed soldiers. Everything faded in the mist, until at last, only the mountain peaks beyond the city were visible, and then clouds swept them from sight.