The Dukes of Odwego finds Astra (secret necromancer, former nun, and displaced librarian of Qordashi) drifting ever farther from the life she knew and deeper into a world she never expected to see. The powerful, winding Hoshikwazu river leads her, her ailing best friend Traz, and the ever-enigmatic Xavai to a city that glitters with wealth but reeks of corruption. Within its walls, sour magic whispers, alliances shift like silt, and every kindness hides a price. To save the people she loves, Astra must rely on her wits, her courage, and maybe, maybe, a little necromancy.
Previously: Astra met the widest, longest river.
The great Hoshikwazu River did not, contrary to Astra’s expectations, move quickly. It was turgid, heavy with mud along its edges, and clouded with debris.
The raft that she, her childhood best friend Traz, and the Am-Ayat warrior Xavai floated on was designed to be used for short river crossings and canals (Astra had read of such things, anyway) but, at least at the point where the smaller river they had been traveling on joined the Hoshikwazu, bobbed well enough in the waters not to sink them. They got startled looks from the crews of the larger boats, mostly oared, that slipped by them. A few called out warnings about pirates in the common tongue of the Balashilar, Deshilli, but none paused in their journeys to help the obviously fragile raft.
They had only been on the Hoshikwazu little more than two days. It had been just over a week since Astra, the librarian of the Tiered Library at the revered and ancient Qordashi monastery that rested on a flank of the sacred Ice Mountain, had fled for her life from an attack mounted by an unholy alliance between the snow dragons of the south and the barbarian Yosoi tribes of the east. It sometimes felt like mere hours since her mentor and second mother, Doyen Superior Naboch, had died during that attack. Yet, floating under the hazy sunlit morning on the wide, mud-colored river, it felt like a lifetime ago.
Astra had lived at the monastery since she was eight years old and known no other life in her adulthood. She had gone gratefully from postulate to novitiate and finally to nun when she turned fifteen, determined to prove herself worthy to the Gods of the Four Winds through study, prayer, and chaste dedication. By twenty, she was dedicated to the goddess of the North, Bu, as a scholar, and had been appointed to work in the Tiered Library at twenty-two. Ten years later, when the previous librarian left the monastery to die of a wasting illness, she had been made head librarian of her library with great pomp and circumstances, a position she held devotedly for twelve years until Qordashi itself was destroyed. Yet, there she was, forty-four years old, flopped against the side of a meager stolen raft, looking out at the legendary river she had never expected to see in her current life, much less travel upon.
Behind her, Xavai, stripped of his boots and his heavy bronze armor but still in his leather and linen travel tunic and trousers, used one of the pole oars as a makeshift and mostly ineffectual rudder. The giant temple dogs, Ruby and Emerald, were strewn out as unintentional ballast in the middle of the raft, tongues lolling out while they snored. Traz was on the other side of the raft as balance, but that was the most that could be said. He had been pierced through the meat of this shoulder by a snow dragon’s talon and the wound was still raw, and probably infected after the adventures he had gone through being held hostage by the Yosoi and then rescued by Astra and their nameless but friendly fire dragon.
Said dragon was somewhere on or near the river, according to Xavai, whose magic as a dowser gave him the power to know the location of anything he was asked to find. It was invisible due to magical talismans that it wore and protected. Given the power of the Dragon’s Grail, which resembled a giant fire horn, and the ancient shawl infused with a protection spell, nothing the dragon did could be seen. It could be heard, though, and every once in a while some loud thuds or crashing sounds onshore would reach them that she assumed was the beast following along.
Traz was running a fever, but aside from Astra occasionally placing a wet strip of cloth over his forehead, there was not much they could do. They were penniless and without direction, going wherever the river took them. It would, at least, take them farther away from the range of the snow dragons who they assumed were still searching for them.
Xavai plunked down on the floor with a groan. His own ribs had taken a beating, literally, over the course of the past week and while they kept re-wrapping his bandages (which put his naked torso far too close to Astra’s hands for her own peace of mind) he had to be in pain.
“We’re in a stronger current for now.”
She nodded, knowing he would not have sat down otherwise. “Traz needs medicine, and a doctor if there is one to be had.” She looked out at the river. There were fewer boats upon it than she had first guessed, but there were at least ten within sight of them, upstream and down. Xavai, seeming to read her mind, shook his head.
“Too dangerous to ask for help, as vulnerable as we are. Most are likely traders or floating farms, but if they need slaves, it would be too easy to grab us and throw Traz overboard.”
Astra shuddered. She had read many such accounts in the tales kept in her library, and knew he was right. “We will need to find a river town, then. One with at least one inn, and a doctor.”
“And pay them how?” He waved a hand over the raft. Then he perked up hopefully. “Could we sell the dogs?”
“No!” Astra snapped.
“You always say no,” Traz groaned, waking up. He looked over at her. “What is it now?”
“We have no way to pay for lodging.” She side-eyed him. “Or medicine.”
Traz glared at the sky above his head for long moment. Then he slowly worked his uninjured arm until he could shove his hand down his pants.
“Pervert! Stop your wicked ways!” Xavai yelled, rocking the raft by trying to lunge across, only to fall backwards to catch the pole oar he had dropped before it landed in the water and was lost forever.
Astra was so busy staring at the Am-Ayat warrior’s antics that she did not pay any attention to her brother until he held his hand up over his stomach. Then she blinked in shock.
He was holding a glittery, golden necklace festooned with gems.
“The Yosoi weren’t too careful about what they had laying around before they wrapped me up like a dumpling.” He grinned, and with his fevered state, it looked slightly crazed.
Astra burst out laughing, pointing at the incredibly luxurious and obviously expensive item. “You had it all this time in your pants?”
He let it drop and lowered his arm. “Not like I was walking around,” he said with a soft chuckle.
Astra went to pick it up but Xavai snatched it from her grasp. He threw it on the other side of the raft and, with his hands, dumped river water over it to wash it down. Astra sat down next to her brother as they watched him.
“Is he washing the necklace?” Traz croaked, trying not to laugh.
“I think the Am-Ayat peoples have some very odd ideas about genitals and sex.” Astra propped her chin with one hand, her elbow on her knee.
“Says the virgin,” Traz said with a grin.
“You don’t know that!” Astra glared at him. “I think he’s trying to cleanse it of your manhood. To be fair, I’m not complaining. You stink.”
“Hey!”
Xavai reached out and handed Astra the wet necklace, which had river weed hanging from it. He refused to look her in the eye, instead turning to pick up the pole oar to start steering them again.
She ignored him to look more carefully at the necklace. There were rubies and sapphires and diamonds, and rarest of all, three opals as big as her thumbnail set in the front of the piece. It was otherwise a very strange geometric design, perhaps mimicking a vine covered in stylistic flowers of a shape she was not familiar with.
“I think it’s Eredu, from the Gilded Plateau.” Traz stared at it. “I have seen their jewelry before, it resembles that blunt style.”
“Hm.” She drew it closer to inspect it. “We can pull it apart, sell gems as we go along the river.”
He nodded. “But not to other people on the water. Only at ports, where we will get a fair price and not be cheated because we are desperate.”
He knew better than she did how to do such things, Astra thought. She turned to Xavai. “When you see a riverside town, try to pull us up there. We can go ashore to trade for supplies.”
He simply nodded, focusing on the river. It was quiet for a while as they drifted, and Traz faded back into unconsciousness. Astra set a cloth down and, with a short knife donated by Xavai, started deconstructing the necklace into its valuable component parts.
“I’m tired, Grav Astra. I need to rest.” Xavai said at some point near mid-day, setting the pole oar inside the boat and sitting down next to her. “Let me nap for a while, then in the late afternoon wake me and we will try to make for a shore. If you see a good-sized town on the banks, then wake me anyway.” With that, he promptly laid down, put his head on her lap, and went instantly to sleep.
Astra stared down at his wonderfully beautiful face, too surprised to argue his choice of pillow. Other stories she had read in her library talked about wars started over beautiful consorts, and Astra could far too easily imagine starting a war for Xavai. She was also shocked that he trusted her so much, given his initial reaction when he found out about her power as a necromancer.
Had they all changed so much already?
Shaking her head, she gently put one hand on his upper arm and gazed out at the river, watching the other boats and the people on them, most of which passed swiftly using oars and sails. After a while, she saw a settlement up ahead of them, one that climbed almost out of the water and up the side of the hill next to the river. It was smaller than the Qordashi monastery, of course, but far bigger than many of the villages she had seen on the distant shore. It was bound to have at least a few inns, traders, and most importantly, a doctor.
She shook Xavai awake and pointed. He groaned as he slowly crawled to his feet, hissing as the pain hit him, but he managed to steady himself with the pole oar and set their raft awkwardly tacking for the dock.
NEXT: Strangers in a Strange Land
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