3-58. A Challenge in Wartime

Soorong met them on the deck of her ship. It was nicer than Sami and Everett’s little Waverider. Like a cross between a luxury yacht, a battleship, and an old pirate ship, but with no sails. Its crew numbered in the dozens, maybe in the low hundreds, and women - and some men - busied themselves about the ship, mostly ignoring Otter and Juala.

Soorong looked annoyed, her lips set in a grim line, her hands clasped behind her back in an effort to visibly control herself. Otter didn’t know the woman, but she seemed the kind to brook no nonsense, and Otter suddenly wondered at the wisdom of choosing herself to lead this part of the plan.

“You’re here to force my involvement,” Soorong said evenly. “You want me to stop what Sureya’s set in motion.”

It was an accusation with an edge to it. She was expecting to be recruited. Relief flooded Otter’s chest.

“Nope. Well, yes. But also no.”

“We need you to dock with Sureya’s ship, and get us an audience,” Juala said. “That’s all we need from you.”

Soorong glanced at Juala, her lip curling in further distaste. “A not unreasonable request. Are you doing this on behalf of Seat Hyleah?”

Juala looked about to answer, but Otter cut her off, “Yes. I’ve been in contact with Rua. She wants a cessation of hostilities. This doesn’t need to escalate any further than it has.”

“Finally, some wisdom.” A sudden rain squall hit, the rain drumming down, and Soorong had to raise her voice to be heard. “Someone dropping the sail during the middle of a storm. It might already be too late. Come.”

She gestured to a door on deck, what Otter assumed was the captain’s quarters or whatever the admiral equivalent was - admiral’s quarters? - and the three headed for it. When Juala stepped in behind them, Soorong frowned.

“You pick odd help,” was all she said.

Inside was a small desk that was affixed to the floor to prevent it from moving, along with a series of chairs that had undergone the same. Seated in one of them was Leilynn. She had her eyes closed, and she had a small smile on her face.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here,” Otter said.

“Surprised? This bitch has been manipulating things from the beginning,” Juala muttered.

“Reyna!” Soorong barked. “To attention, sailor! That is a Seat you are speaking of!”

Juala went stiff, standing straight and her arms falling to her sides. She almost looked ready to do whatever the Silayan equivalent of a salute was.

“Good, you do remember how to be a soldier,” Soorong muttered. “You haven’t drunk that memory away yet. Now, that said, yes, Leilynn has been very firmly manipulating things. She’s outright admitted it to me. How she’s been doing so, I’m not sure, since Dream-touched can’t actually alter any future they see. It never does seem to stop them from meddling, though.”

Leilynn cracked open an eye, a smile coming over her face. “Flatterer.” 

“I don’t think I said a single compliment in there.”

“It was implied. Good. Both of you are here,” Leilynn said addressing both Otter and Juala. “We are on this timeline. It’s… difficult to keep track sometimes.”

Soorong’s attention snapped to that. “What do you mean ‘timeline’?”

“I think she’s referring to my Pact,” Otter said. “I’ve been getting very strong hints that the Sleeper in the Depths gave me a Pact that is deliberately altering the flow of events the way they’re ‘supposed’ to go. And it’s been having… rippling effects on everything.”

Soorong watched Otter, her expression blank. Finally, she crossed the room, sat down at her desk, pulled a flask from the drawer, and began to drink from it.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like her explanation,” Leilynn said.

“Why did we have to get stuck with the Dreamer that’s such a cunt,” Soorong muttered, then looked upwards to the ceiling. “No offense. How were things originally supposed to go?” 

“Sureya leads the Islands to war. She provokes the Mikovians into a response. Over the course of four years, we eventually lose. We have the homefield advantage, but our numbers are dwindling because most of our pelanoa are dead. We need to be focusing on building those numbers back up, breeding immunity to the Faceless Oppressor into our people, not picking fights with our neighbours. Three years after we lose, the Criobani, seeing weakness in both us and the Mikovians, invade once more, led by Rovarra once more. He gets his vengeance. He exterminates us. A few score manage to flee to the Jiridon Belt, some are captured and sold to the Salassians as slaves, but for the most part, the Silayan people are wiped from Reylorien.” 

There was a moment of silence, and then Soorong took another long pull from her flask. She looked as if she was about to offer it out, but then looked at Juala and deliberately put it away. 

“And what happens now, with this one changing things?” Soorong asked.

“I don’t know. It’s… difficult for a Dream-touched so close to Otter to be able to see the future accurately. I see too many possibilities. I’ve seen a number of possible futures. Some good. Some bad. Some are dark to me.”

Outside, the rain stopped just as suddenly as it came, and the glare of sunlight was almost blinding from the one window in Soorong’s cabin.

“How would they be dark?” Otter asked. “Can’t you see everything?”

“Only portions, and portions of my own lifetime,” Leilynn corrected. “In a number of the possible futures you alter, I die fairly early on. You manage to get me killed more often than you don’t, I’ll have you know. But it’s a preferable fate than what was waiting for me.”

“What have I been dragged into?” Soorong said. “You could be lying. You could all be lying.”

“They’re not,” Juala said. “Or at least, Otter isn’t, from what I can tell. Leilynn’s a manipulative bitch, so she might be.”

“You’re holding a grudge, I see,” Leilynn said.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“What happened to you really was for the best. You’d have died otherwise.”

Soorong was tapping a finger on her desk while staring at Juala. Anger was darkening her expression. And in a moment of foolishness, Otter finally realized it was because she had no way of knowing that ‘Reyna’ was Juala. She wasn’t completely in the know yet. She just saw an insubordinate soldier - one who had failed to protect her charge in the past - being rude to what amounted to Silayan nobility. 

“Juala–” Otter started, but was immediately cut off by Leilynn.

“Is a tragic loss to us all. And we can’t let what happened to her inform our decisions now.”

Well, that had some layered meaning to it. Leilynn didn’t want Soorong to know. At least, not yet. Could that mean Soorong shouldn’t be trusted? Or just that it would alter things that were going to happen if she did?

Ugh. Otter hated this. She hated the twisty ‘what if’ of it all. It had her second guessing every decision. She hated the idea of all this future crap. She’d never been one to think about the future too much. Right up until she was sentenced to not have one. She usually just bulldozed ahead. It usually worked out for her. 

Mostly. 

Sometimes.

“We need you to bring us to Sureya’s ship is all we need,” Otter said. “Make sure we get on there safely, and that Sureya meets with us. And if a few other important people happen to be present on deck when we speak to her, all the better.”

“I can’t tell which of the two of you is manipulating me more. But fuck it. The sooner I do this, the sooner I get Leilynn off my ship, and all the better for that. You can’t stop Sureya, no matter what you do. Even representing Seat Hyleah in Rua’s stead will make no difference. Rua can’t vote on decisions. It’s just Leilynn’s vote against Sureya’s. It deadlocks, and Sureya will just charge on ahead.”

“Doesn’t Rua have tiebreaker authority or something?”

“Only if she’s present,” Juala said. “She can’t have a proxy deliver that kind of vote. Especially since we don’t actually have any way that you are a proxy of Rua’s, even though everyone knows the two of you are fucking.”

“She does have a certain satisfied expression whenever I’m around,” Otter said smugly.

“Yes, that’s just what we need. Pink-haired quarterlings running around in Hyleah’s manse,” Soorong muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

Soorong had some of her sailors wave flags at the various vessels that were nearby. Otter had no idea what it meant, but Juala let her know it was to signify a meeting of admirals and captains on the nearest ranking vessel. Shortly after, all four of them were packed onto a smaller vessel that was lowered off the side of Soorong’s ship, and made for Sureya’s ship.

For an open sea, traffic was a nightmare. The small fleet - flotilla? Otter really had no idea about nautical terms - wasn’t well organized. Otter liked to think that was a sign that Sureya was a shit military commander, which felt like a victory. Right until she realized that if Sureya was a shit military commander, it meant she was about to get everyone here killed.

She remembered Leilynn’s casual pronouncement of the future, the doom of the Silayan Islands, delivered so blandly that it might as well have been a weather report. 

There were real stakes here. Otter was no Slavomir Risko. She didn’t like to gamble.

But she had a solid plan. This wasn’t a gamble. This was a very real chance of victory. 

She looked over all those disorganized ships. Some were barely better than little catamarans. Anyone could be hiding in that fleet.

She checked her messages once more, rereading the last confirmation she’d received. 

Ships were taking turns loading officials onto Sureya’s large ship, which was quickly becoming crowded. The person onboarding people didn’t look too pleased. Likely she’d been yelled at by Sureya, or questioned by everyone coming on board as to the nature of this meeting. The uniformed soldier stood stiffly when Soorong came aboard, but her annoyance was evident in her eyes.

Their company was the last to board. Juala’s idea, to just be extra annoying. Keep Sureya waiting, make her annoyed, offbalance. 

It apparently worked, because as soon as they were on the deck, the wood slick with the previous rainfall, Sureya descended on them. She flicked a glance at both Otter and Leilynn, but her focus snapped on Soorong. 

“I assume this is important,” Sureya said. 

“It is.”

“And you won’t be joining my fleet, I assume.”

“My position, as always, is neutral. But I was asked by Rua’s proxy to arrange this meeting.”

Sureya’s eyes once more flicked to Otter. An amused smile came over her face. “Oh, really now? And what does the so-called proxy of a Seat that has no voting rights wish to say?”

Beside Otter, Juala went very still. Hovering just behind Sureya was a young girl. Maybe twelve or so. Definitely a pre-teen, but just barely. She cringed slightly, her eyes looking at the decking beneath her feet. On her bare arms were very apparent bruises.

Juala’s breath came very loudly. Her hand tightened on the haft of her spear until her fingers went white. 

That had to be Moami, Juala’s sister. The person who’d inherited Juala’s title and Seat.

Well, that was probably for the best. The angrier Juala was for this, the better.

“I vote against war with the Mikovians,” Leilynn said loudly to everyone assembled. “I have foreseen the disaster Sureya leads us to.”

“And where was this vaunted foresight before?” Sureya asked. “Convenient, that it shows up now, on the eve of our victory.”

“I vote against war,” Otter said. “As Rua’s proxy, for a tiebreaker.”

“I don’t recognize your authority. Rua has no officially named you as such. And even so, this isn’t a tiebreaker.” Sureya reached behind her, grabbing the young Moami by the arm, and dragging her to her side. “Your vote, Moami.”

The girl’s glance flicked up to Sureya. She quailed, huddling in on herself. She mumbled something, a stuttering apology, which trailed off into unintelligibility. 

Juala knelt down in front of the girl, and patted her on the head. “Don’t worry, squirt. You don’t need to be brave today. That’s what I’m here for. That’s what I’m always here for.”

“Reyna!” Soorong barked.

And then Juala’s spear lit up with lightning, a thunderbolt clapping down from the sky and striking its tip before arcing out back into the sky. Everyone staggered back, some people falling directly on their asses as they scrambled away.

Sureya’s eyes stared at Juala’s spear in absolute astonishment, her gaze flicking to ‘Reyna.’ Otter could practically see the wheels turning in the woman’s head as she put the pieces together.

“The Fleshcrafter,” Sureya hissed.

Or at least, that’s what Otter thought Sureya said. She was busy trying to get the ringing out of her ear while making ‘mawp’ noises.

“In case you stupid fuckheads didn’t figure it out by now,” Juala said loudly, “I’m fucking Juala. Seat of House Moseina. Burden of Vigilance. And this cunt tried to have me killed.”

“You’re not–” someone said, but was immediately cut off by another, “That’s Juala’s spear. No one but her can use it.”

There were mutters all around, people claiming they’d seen her body. That they’d held a funeral for her. But more kept pointing out the obvious proof.

“I was stabbed with a knife laced with the Faceless Oppressor,” Juala said. “And I was saved by a Fleshcrafter! I was forced to go into hiding with this new face. It was… It was Reyna who died that day, not me. And I am here to avenge that murder.”

Not everyone was sold on it. But enough were.

Soorong stood a little straighter. There was a little more fight in her eyes. Her hands balled up into fists. Others looked just as angry as she did.

“You have no proof it was me,” Sureya said. “It was some foreign assassin. I’d never employ a foreigner to kill my enemies. More, everyone knows he was bound by Kir’s Pact!”

In the script in Otter’s head, this was the moment where Il-Su was supposed to emerge, showing he wasn’t dead, and testify. Declare Sureya a liar, and tell everyone she was the one who’d given him his orders.

So of course the little asshole didn’t show up. Either because he was being spiteful, or he was late. Otter wasn’t sure which annoyed her more.

“I don’t need proof,” Juala growled. “I just gotta kick you in the cunt so hard your dead daughter comes back to life for five seconds just to cry out in pain before dying again. I challenge you to a duel.”

“If you are Juala,” Sureya said, heavily emphasizing the ‘if’, “then you are a Seat. Seats are forbidden from engaging in violence against one another.”

“Crazy times. Rua and Kir just did some violence to one another recently, and I didn’t hear you whine about it then. In fact, you seemed downright happy about Kir dragging Rua off as a prisoner. And I really want to fucking kill you right now. Don’t think I don’t see the fucking bruises on my sister.”

That seemed to break something in Moami. She leaned forward and wrapped Juala in a hug, and began to softly cry. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Juala said to her. “I’m here now.”

“Don’t fight her,” Moami said. “You can’t win. I can’t lose you again.”

“She won’t be,” Soorong said. “Duels between Seats are rare, but there is legal precedent. Sureya is allowed to pick a champion.”

“I refuse,” Sureya said. “I can fight my own battles.”

Inwardly, Otter felt a little surge of glee. This was exactly what they’d hoped Sureya would do, back when they’d initially hammered out the plan. They’d known Sureya wouldn’t back down. She was confident in her Pact. And for good reason. It was a terrifying one.

“Since you decline a champion,” Soorong said, “that means Juala must choose one, to prevent one Seat from directly engaging in violence against one of her own.”

“Who–” Sureya started, but was cut off as Otter’s fist slammed into her Tenacity, the shield momentarily flickering into view as it was impacted.

Otter smiled wide, and cracked her knuckles. “Yo, she-bitch, let’s go.”