City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [151]
They talked of nothing significant for the rest of the evening, instead taking shelter below deck. Artemisia remained intimidating, but she conducted herself with grace, and saw that they were well looked after. Food had been left for them on a large platter, fruits and vegetables he’d never seen, olives and figs, and there was also bread and watered wine.
They huddled together in a small cabin panelled with dark wood, on a bed covered in opulent cushions. Around the edge of the room were placed long chests whose flat lids were painted with various scenes presumably from this other culture. A tripod stood next to the bed, and coloured lanterns hung from the roof. Gemstones were set into the wood furniture – lapis lazuli and jasper and quartz.
The three of them ate on the bed in silence. Randur kept thinking about the things that Artemisia had saying, about their world not being how they had thought it to be.
*
After night had fallen, Eir and Randur took a walk above deck. Ias surprisingly warm, as if the ship was emitting its own heat froithin. Initially, the smell of smoke prompted thoughts of wood fires, but they couldn’t see any. Eventually Eir pointed out that all the Hanuman were smoking roll-ups, similar to those used back in Villjamur.
Randur thought it absurd.
‘Little addicts, are they not?’ Artemisia had appeared silently behind them, her hands clasped behind her back. She approached alongside. Even without factoring in her size, Artemisia would have seemed intimidating, yet dignified – a killer yes, but a regal one. Now wearing a simple black tunic, her pale-blue flesh was exposed and her muscles frighteningly well-defined.
‘How come they all smoke?’ Eir asked.
‘It is their payment.’ Artemisia spoke proudly, a noticeably different tone from earlier. ‘They work in exchange for tobacco, to which they are addicted, and therefore they become addicted to working for me.’
‘Isn’t that like slavery?’ Eir suggested.
‘It is no different to working for money, like your races do,’ Artemisia replied.
‘What do they do, on this ship?’ Randur asked, strolling up to one perched on the edge of the rail so precariously, he wondered if it might fall off. He began stroking its fur, and the winged monkey regarded him coolly, taking another puff of its roll-up. It wore an expression of deepest satisfaction.
‘Mainly they do repairs on the Exmachina for me,’ Artemisia said, ‘since they can easily access all the way underneath. They run errands about the ship, and they scout better than anything else I’ve known, providing they fly on solo missions. They’re prone to arrogance and infighting among their tribes.’
There were so many questions Randur wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem urgent. It occurred to him that he felt immensely secure on this ship – being on the run had driven him into a sense of paranoia. A gust of wind came on board, disturbing the peaceful ambience. Artemisia glanced up in irritation, and only then did he think it odd that the wind hadn’t really been present before. His first thought was of some cultist trickery, then he realized that this woman and her ship might be beyond all that.
Rika strolled across the deck, a dark gown rippling softly against her body, once again every bit the Empress. Her demeanour was like a premonition, a return to something more ancient and established. Artemisia responded with something that might be mistaken for an emotion, though what, he couldn’t say.
Rika had noticed them survey her clothing. ‘I found it in one of the cupboards. It doesn’t fit perfectly, but it’s surprisingly warm.’
‘It is an example of what the few humans might wear, where I come from,’ Artemisia said.
‘You have humans in your world?’ Eir asked, but received no response.
Rika’s glance towards Artemisia was wide-eyed and approval-seeking. Randur knew this because Eir had often done the same to him. So Rika sought attention from this being but, according to Eir, Rika had not once in her life shown such interest in anything other than the Jorsalir church.
‘Lady Rika,’ Randur said boldly,