The Ananaki
Kira Bacal
Copyright 2012 Kira Bacal
The gods were going to be upset. And of course, when they fumed, we mere mortals paid the price. I took a deep breath and tried to put the thought from my mind. Time enough for that later. Instead, I looked down at the dripping sailor cowering at my feet and forced my voice to be gentle. “Fully half the cargo was lost? You’re sure?”
Alchimon raised a tear-streaked face and nodded. “I would give anything if it were not so, but I saw with my own eyes as the bales washed overboard and sank.” Over his head, his uncle, my first mate, caught my gaze and nodded grim confirmation. I could see from his expression that he considered the loss to reflect badly upon him.
Behind me, the rest of the crew absorbed the news and a low rumble of comment began. I couldn’t tell if they were angry with Alchimon, apprehensive of what was sure to follow, or just dismayed by the events, but I cut the mutterings off. “That’s enough. Alchimon, tell me again exactly what happened.”
He gulped and tried to compose himself. “We had left the Etreans nearly two marks of the sundial before and were passing the small reef that marks the end of the shallows.”
I nodded to encourage him. “You made good time then.”
“Yes,” he agreed eagerly. “The Etreans had the cargo ready, and I had already worked out the best method to load the skiff. It was as we were crossing in front of the last outcropping of the reef that we saw him. He was nearly underwater – waves were lapping at his chin and they prevented him from calling out. He tried, but ended up choking, so all he could do was wave at us. Belsides saw his arm flapping, and I – I ordered the boat to change course to save him.” He glanced from me to his glowering uncle. “He was drowning! I had to do something!” Then he dropped his gaze, recalling what happened next. “But when we got near, the currents around the reef were treacherous and strong. The boat began to rock from side to side, and the cargo was not – I had not secured the cargo against such a surf. It began to shift, and when we pulled the man into the boat, it overbalanced and went overboard. The entire craft nearly capsized… I thought we would lose it all and crew besides before we could fight our way clear.”
I looked over to where two of my men were working on the half-drowned figure. “Of course you had to save him, Alchimon. But did you not realize that the tide is going out, and so the man had already survived the worst of it? You could have returned to the ship, unloaded your cargo, and returned to fetch him well before the tide would turn. Empty, the skiff would have been much easier to navigate near the reef, and you would have put the crew at much less risk.”
His expression told me all I needed to know. In the excitement of his first major assignment, the prospect of a rescue at sea had driven all other thought from his head. As the realization dawned that the loss of the cargo had not just been unfortunate but also wholly avoidable, Alchimon lowered his head and wept.
His uncle cuffed him on the shoulder. “Think that will do any good?” he demanded angrily. “Save your tears for the Ananaki! When they get through with you, you’ll have reason to cry!”
“I will deal with the Ananaki,” I snapped, glaring at Nemadon. “I am the captain of this vessel. The responsibility is mine alone.”
Alchimon sobbed harder. Nemadon hunched his shoulders and frowned at me. “But they will–“
“They will be most displeased,” I finished for him. “It is not the first time, nor will it be the last, that I must give them unwelcome news. That doesn’t change the fact that it is my duty to do so – and to bear the consequences.” I glanced at Alchimon, now hiccupping and gulping as he struggled to regain his composure. “We will all learn from it. Alchimon has learned the need to maintain a cool head under all circumstances and to tie down cargo even in calm seas. I have learned that Alchimon is not yet ready for command.” At my words, Alchimon flinched as if struck, but he managed to refrain from more tears. “Nor is he yet ready to face the wrath of the Ananaki. That is all; I have spoken.”
Nemadon glared at me and shook his head, but all that passed his lip was an incoherent grunt, a mix of resignation, disapproval, and worry.
“Go see to the unloading of what cargo remains,” I told Alchimon. “The rest of you, back to work! Nemadon, come – there is no benefit in delaying the inevitable.”
My mate accompanied me to the small room at the far end of the deck. We paused at the door and he gave me an unhappy look. “The blame belongs to me. I should not have urged you to give Alchimon the duty. He was not ready, but I was too proud to realize it. The fault is mine.”
I grinned at him. “Are you now the master? Yes, I heard your words, but I knew how you felt. I did not have your familial pride, and I too thought the boy was ready. The decision was mine, and so too the error. You are getting above yourself!” I teased. “Do I need fear a mutiny?”
The words wrung a smile from him, but it was short-lived. “I just wish—“
“Do not anticipate the worst,” I admonished lightly. “Perhaps we shall be lucky. If it is Astarte, we might yet get off lightly.”
He shook his grizzled head doubtfully, but forebore to contradict me directly.
I turned from him and entered the Holy of Holies – the one room on the ship where no one goes save myself. The small room held an altar, with the offering I had made this morning, and the Amulet of Summoning. Obeying the ritual first taught me when I became a Master of the Sailors’ Guild, I made the proper obeisance and brought my forehead down on the square Amulet, feeling the familiar click as I pressed against it. Then I retreated a pace and knelt before the box, awaiting the gods.
It was not long before I could hear the whispering begin in the air around me. Quickly, one voice became clear. “Kasker! Why have you summoned us?”
The voice was mellifluous and female, and I felt my heart leap with new hope. “Greetings to you, O most wise and gracious Astarte.” Although no Ananaki would ever be gentle, Astarte was among the least capricious, and she seemed to be fond of me. My crew never failed to pay tribute to her, wherever we traveled, and she often seemed to be aware of and pleased by our devotions, though naturally she never treated them as anything less than her due. I took a deep breath. There was no good way to say this. “We have had a difficulty –“ I started.
“Tell me!” In an instant, the warmth was gone, her voice sharp and angry.
“Half the cargo has been lost,” I said bluntly. Dressing up the facts with flowery words would not help me.
“How?” she demanded. “Was the sea too rough?”
My heart sank. Sarcasm was never a good sign. “No, most serene one. The weather you have sent us is as fine as any sailor could desire. The seas are like glass, the breezes gentle and warm.”
“Then what happened?” A new voice broke in, harsher and male, and I abandoned all thoughts of a light punishment.
“Blessings on you, Ohtolam,” I murmured, again pressing my forehead against the deck.
“Answer my question!” he snapped.
“The skiff was not loaded properly and nearly capsized when it approached a reef, where the surf was more active. I give thanks to your providence for preserving my crew.”
Ohtolam made a savage sound of dismissal, confirming my opinion that he cared little for the lives of his servants. “The cargo?”
“Fully half gone,” I confirmed.
“Useless!” he cried, and I scented the unmistakable tang in the air that presaged a fiery lash. A second later, the first blow fell across my back. I stifled my cry – there was nothing to be gained by such displays.
“Wait – something is amiss,” Astarte intervened. “He has never before shown such inepti
tude.”
“So?” Ohtolam demanded of me. “What happened? Were you the worse for drink?”
“I was not!” Stung by the accusation, I replied automatically, and instantly cursed my candor. Despite the inevitable beating it would provoke, a lie about an uncharacteristic bout of drunkenness causing the error would have been much the wiser course.
“So? Then how did it come to pass?” Astarte asked, her tone more measured than Ohtolan’s angry one.
I sensed she was trying to help me, to distract Ohtolam, but her questions were most unwelcome. “Another was involved,” I admitted reluctantly. “But I did not supervise the loading, and so the blame and the punishment are mine.”
“Aha,” Ohtolam said, almost a purr in his voice. “So there is someone else? Bring the wretch before me.”
The image of Alchimon’s terrified face swam before me. “There is no need. I will take the beating for this infraction.”
“What? You presume