Solstice Day Gifts (an Emperor's Edge Short Story) Read online

Solstice Day Gifts

  by Lindsay Buroker

  Copyright © 2014 Lindsay Buroker

  Sicarius crouched on the hull of the submarine, the open hatch at his back. He and Amaranthe had already observed the port through the periscope, but he wanted a panoramic view before guiding the craft into the harbor. Ferncrest Isle was a Turgonian holding and trouble should be unlikely here, but he did not know if news of the dissolution of the empire and the creation of the republic had made it to this remote, equatorial outpost yet. Sicarius and Amaranthe had left the day after the inauguration and had stopped only once along the way. They had traveled at a leisurely pace, but still made good time to this island. For all he knew, one of the would-be emperors who had sought to replace Sespian on the throne had mercenaries stationed here, waiting for word to invade the mainland.

  His mind lingered on the thought of his and Amaranthe’s “leisure” rather than the thought of mercenaries. It still made him smile on the inside. On the outside... Amaranthe informed him that his faint softening of his lips didn’t count. Apparently his conscious attempts to stretch his mouth into a smile lacked an authenticity or, as she said, contained all the joy of someone gritting his teeth as he rode a steam hammer down a cobblestone street.

  “How’s it looking from up there?” Amaranthe called up from the navigation area at the front of the small submarine.

  “A small military outpost sits atop an escarpment to the south, and a village stretches along the harbor, the homes made from mud and thatch.” A poor choice to withstand invading fleets or pirate attacks, Sicarius thought, though history proclaimed that the village, full of its simple residents, had been here long before Turgonia had taken charge. “Some of the newer buildings are from brick. A few fishing vessels are plying the waters beyond the reef, a mixture of ironclad Turgonian craft and native canoes and catamarans. None have cannons or other obvious weapons. There is nothing else sharing the shallow waters inside the lagoon with us. There are a handful of vessels in port, and if there is a dock master on the look out for new arrivals, he hasn’t come out to greet us yet.” Sicarius lifted his spyglass to his eye again. “I do not see any enforcers patrolling the streets.”

  “Thank you... Security Sergeant Sicarius. What I was really wondering is if you saw any lush tropical forests, idyllic palm trees, or sandy beaches with fun little bungalows perched along the water that might be for rent.”

  Sicarius did not know what to make of this cavalier response to his straightforward description of the harbor. Surely Amaranthe would not believe they could ignore their pasts completely and trust the locals not to trouble them? And that last comment. He found it perplexing. “For what purpose would we need a bungalow rental? The sleeping cabin in the submarine has proven suitable for our needs for the last three weeks.”

  Very suitable. One might expect a naval vessel to have cramped accommodations, but President Starcrest had clearly designed the submarine with his six and a half feet of height in mind.

  Amaranthe’s head popped out of the hatchway. She wore her hair in a loose braid, several wisps waving freely about her face in the warm salty breeze. She smiled with pleasure at the bucolic setting, though her gaze seemed to linger on the pale sandy beaches and coconut trees, rather than the military fortification and more practical infrastructure and personnel. She turned the smile upon Sicarius, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “Tomorrow is Solstice Day,” she said.

  Sicarius tilted his head, failing to see how this provided an answer to his question.

  “You don’t know the significance of Solstice Day?” Amaranthe asked.

  Sicarius sensed they had different definitions of the event, but he provided the first response that came to mind anyway, for he was distracted trying to figure out why she might require a bungalow. “In the northern hemisphere, it represents the shortest day of the year. At noon, the sun is at its southernmost point in the sky. At our current location, approximately three degrees in latitude, it is unlikely we will notice a difference because the days remain close to the same length throughout the entire year.”

  “All true,” Amaranthe said, “but I was referring to the cultural significance of Solstice Day, a time when friends and lovers gather about the hearth, toss sparkers into the fire, sing, and give thanks for the year that has been and to welcome the longer days that will return in the months ahead. Drinking and merriment are required.”

  Sicarius had already been planning to object to the notion of singing when Amaranthe said this last part, narrowing her eyes in his direction.

  “I do not imbibe alcoholic beverages,” he said. “Also, I do not know how one could enforce merriment or other emotional state of being that relies upon numerous external and internal circumstances.” Though what he had seen from people who drank copiously was that a false sense of cheer could certainly be obtained via the way alcohol acted on the human brain and nervous system.

  “One can try to be merry by letting go of one’s inhibitions for a time.” Amaranthe ducked back into the submarine. Sicarius was trying to decide if he had offended her with his statements, when she returned to sight, this time with a dark brown bottle in hand. “As for the drinking, did you not notice that President Starcrest stocked the submarine with a couple of ciders and brandies from his family’s estate?” She held the bottle aloft, displaying the label, which did indeed proclaim the beverage a product of Starcrest Cellars.

  “I did notice those bottles,” Sicarius said. “I assumed they were to be used for trade purposes if we visited islands where the ranmya would not be accepted.”

  Amaranthe rolled her eyes. “Then you obviously didn’t see the note.”

  “Note?” Before they left, Sicarius had taken a thorough inventory of the contents of the submarine, so that he could return the craft in the same condition and with the same supplies as it had been loaned to them. He began to suspect Amaranthe was teasing him.

  She turned the bottle and untied a ribbon fastened around the neck, then handed him the small card that dangled from the end. Perhaps it was possible that in quickly dismissing the bottles of alcohol, he had failed to notice it. He read it now:

  Drink, enjoy your trip, and be merry. ~ Rias

  Merry. The root of merriment. Sicarius tried not to feel ganged up against, but the twinkle had returned to Amaranthe’s eyes.

  “Sounds like an order to me,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I chose this destination because I knew we could get here on time, and I had no intention of spending Solstice Eve cooped up in a tiny boat. A bungalow, Sicarius, a romantic bungalow. Instead of watching the snow fall outside and cuddling beside the fireplace, we’ll listen to the waves breaking on the shore, gaze up at the stars, and cuddle beside a campfire on the beach.”

  “None of those activities require a dwelling,” Sicarius felt compelled to point out. They could simply take a blanket and go ashore for the evening.

  Amaranthe squinted suspiciously at him. “Now, I think you’re just being deliberately obtuse. We brought enough money to afford a few luxuries, especially since we’ve been living off the ocean of late.” Her voice lowered to a murmur, and he barely caught her aside of, “Dear ancestors, I hope they have something more than seaweed and fish for sale in that town. Spices at the least.” Before he could respond, she raised her voice again and rested a hand on his thigh. “Besides, post-cuddling activities are more comfortable when done in a plush bed rather than on a sandy beach. Sand gets everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.”

  Sicarius had never engaged in coitus on a beach, but he allowed that the gritty sand might be unco
mfortable. “A bungalow,” he said, trying to find the idea appealing.

  What he appreciated about the submarine was that when they were submerged, there were few places more secure, and one could utterly relax, knowing an enemy ship would not chance upon them. If it did—it would float past overhead without ever knowing. Some cottage on the beach with windows and doors open to the warm breezes... would be a security nightmare.

  “A bungalow,” Amaranthe said firmly, then gazed toward the main street, which was gradually drawing near as they coasted toward the docks. “And shopping.”

  “Yes, our supplies are running low.”

  “That can be remedied before we leave. I was thinking more of finding a present for you. You are aware of the tradition of exchanging gifts on Solstice Day, certainly? Though I do recall that last year, you disappeared for the days around the event.” She lifted her eyebrows.

  “I had no interest in exchanging gifts with Akstyr and Maldynado,” Sicarius said. In truth, he had taken a mission during that time, as he recalled. The group had been together a mere two weeks then, and he hadn’t yet been certain whether he would stay, nor had he particularly cared for their company. He might have stayed if it had been only Amaranthe, but it had taken him many months to consider the others as anything other than pests.

  “Yes... thus leaving me to shop for a gift for Akstyr and to receive a gift from Maldynado in our group gift exchange.” Amaranthe grimaced. “Given that Maldynado got me nothing but an eye patch for my birthday present—as if I’m the sort to wander around the Pirate’s Plunder wearing nothing but that—I suppose I shouldn’t complain about the Solstice Day gift, but let’s just say that undergarments are an item a lady likes to pick out for herself. Or perhaps receive from a particularly attentive lover.” She gave Sicarius another eyebrow wiggle. “One certainly doesn’t expect to receive them from a man she’s commanding, one she’s known only a few weeks, and one who is nosy enough to ask later on if she’s modeled them for anyone yet.”

  Sicarius had been unaware of Maldynado’s Solstice Day gift. It would have meant little to him at the time, but now he felt the urge to punch the man when next they met.

  “We’re getting close.” Amaranthe waved toward the shoreline. “I’ll guide us in if you direct me and let me know if anyone runs out with guns. This probably isn’t indicative of the crafts they usually see docking.”

  “Agreed.” Sicarius shifted his position to monitor their approach and search for the dock master, or the island’s equivalent. As he did so, a realization came to him, one he wasn’t sure whether to approach with dread or with the mien of someone who likes a challenge. If Amaranthe intended to shop for a gift for him, he would be expected to provide a gift for her.