Lucifer Ch. 04: The Floating City

Resigned, I finish with my business and leave the latrine, disliking how the ship has just, more or less, run straight over what I'd deposited. Ships, I am certain, are the most horrific of human inventions. Despite the slight sway of my universe, I make it back to the bunks and opt to climb up into Marut's with him, finding the remaining sliver of space and slipping into it. He shifts and sleepily kisses my cheek. "Feeling better, Darling?" he whispers.

"Somewhat. I'm sorry I got sick on you," I breathe against his shoulder, feeling comforted by his nearness.

"Gotta work on my technique." Still feeling guilty, I shift a little and slide my hand down to his pants, unlacing them and reaching inside to stroke him. He grunts, confused, then shifts and grips my wrist and gently moves my hand away. "Not now, Baby."

"Oh... Sorry." I'm hardly in the mood for sex, but I felt like I owed him something.

He chuckles and pats my hip. "After you uh... well. After that I decided to let you sleep, so I went to the latrine to pleasure myself. I was nearly finished, too, when water like... splashed up, through the seat?" Marut sighs, and despite the shadows in this little space I can just see him rolling his eyes with annoyance. "Ice cold. ICE cold. It was just at the worst time and I nearly screamed and jumped out of the fucking toilet closet thing, whatever it is." I'm starting to shake with laughter, my hand pressed over my mouth to keep me quiet. "Clearly the fates don't intend for me to get any today, Darling, so let's just be nice and chaste until we make port. I don't want this fucking ship to sink in case I accidently erupt all over your hand."

I have to bury my face in his chest as I laugh, trying to muffle the noise so everyone else can sleep, and I'm not sure when I myself fall asleep, but I know for a fact that when I wake up again time has passed. Marut is softly snoring again, only stirring a little as I carefully climb over him and down to the floor. Up on deck everything is silvered from the moonlight, and I pull my hooded robe tighter around me to guard against the sea wind. The smell of smoke that it brings confuses me, and I join a few of the crew at the rail as they look out at the approaching jut of land dotted with burning houses and barns and fields. The men seem just as confused as I do, and we watch in silence as we round the southwestern part of the island.

Marut quietly joins me on deck, resting a hand on my shoulder as he looks at the devastation. Little silhouettes are running frantically to put out the fires, while men on horses ride back and forth to cut them down. "Where have you brought us?" I whisper back to him.

His hand caresses, then loops forward to pull me back against him. "Sicily... but this isn't the Sicily I know. Something's very wrong."

"Should we go back to Tunis?" I look up at him, nibbling my lip. "It would be safest."

"That's up to you. What do you want to do?"

The sight of these burning seaside villages fills me with dread. I've been out in the wilds for far too long and I have no idea what the world is like anymore. I don't even know what language these people are begging for mercy in. Still, I want my key back. Marut was right when he said that it was the key and not the bondage that was enchanted, and so long as it still exists it's a danger to me. And if it makes its way to the capital of Rome, someone is going to put together the records of an archangel poached with that key and my personal records and correspondence to arrange my freedom. With this new religion of Christianity spreading like wildfire among the blue-eyed kings, any one of them would be desperate to haul me in as a prize to their Pope.

I will not allow myself to be hunted and subjugated, not again, and I straighten my back. "We're continuing to Venice. I will get my key."

Marut's warm hand pats my chest affectionately and he kisses the top of my hood. "You are my prince, and I am ever at your side. Come, let's get our things together. We should be making port soon."

Chapter 3

The port of Palermo is quiet at this late hour. I had expected the turmoil from the countryside to be worse in the city, but it's not so. Our ship makes berth and the plank is let down, and we few passengers make our way off as the crew opens up the trap doors of the main deck to haul up the freight. To our right looms an imposing fortress, the Castello a Mare, and tall, watchful soldiers glare at us from beneath their helms. As we walk into the city, I realize that none of the guards are looking at me - they're all watching Marut.

Our search for lodging takes until sun up because we're turned away from at least six inns. The last is on the edge of a Muslim neighborhood, and there we're finally able to make arrangements with a friendly, if cautious, innkeeper. We take our things to our room and wash up, then head down to the small tavern attached for some breakfast. Qahwa is being brewed, and we buy a small plate each of bread and fish to tide us over until our hot drinks are ready. When they are, the innkeeper brings them over and then sits with us at our invitation, and in Arabic we ask him about what we saw.

"It's a bad time to be a Muslim in this land. This latest crusade has incensed the Christians, and with King Heinrich dead for nearly six years now, the rightful king only nine and in care of this war hungry Pope, and these other Germans claiming the rule of this city for one or two years at a time... Sicily is not the land it was. We used to live in peace here, but now? Now any who don't worship as they wish are being driven out or killed."

"We were just passing through," I explain.

"To where?"

"Venice," Marut notes, leaning back in his seat. He narrows his eyes at our host. "You're looking at us like we're crazy."

The man smiles a little and glances at the door at the sound of passing footsteps, but when no one enters the tavern he looks back at us. "You are. Now is not a good time to go north. Not to that place."

"But we must go. It is an errand that can't wait," I say softly, and the man turns to me.

"Then I wish you luck, and advise you to be brave and lie a great deal. If you pretend that you are already converted then you will be harassed far less. Perhaps you could find one of their bibles and study it."

Breakfast after that is taken in silence, and our host returns to his duties. When we're up in our room, I lay down on the bed and close my eyes, willing my anxiety to lower as I digest. I hear Marut rifling around in my luggage, and then he walks over to the bed to sit next to me, leaning back against the headboard to flip through a book. "Seems we already have a bible."

I crack open an eye, look up to see that it's one of my books, and I shift and nod. "I picked it up a few years ago from a Greek merchant."

"Are we in this one?"

With a sigh, I grumble, "You're not. I am."

"Not very flattering?" he asks, and I shake my head, and for my troubles I get a comforting pat on the arm. "I had a thought."

"Oh yes?"

He nods, skimming through this section and that one. "So, these Christians have a passion for harassing Muslims, correct?"

"According to the man downstairs... and all the looks we got on the docks."

Marut hums. "How's your faith in Allah these days? Rock solid?"

I snort. "You know I don't take up with human religions."

He smiles and snaps the bible shut, looking down at me. "Perfect. Then you aren't Muslim and you needn't worry."

Tiredly I roll onto my side and look up at him, narrowing my eyes. "This isn't about gods. It's never about gods. It's about groups of humans being just different enough from each other to provide a reason for war. The Egyptians did it. The Greeks did it. Sumer and Babylon did it. All humans do this."

"Correct!" Why is he so damn cheerful? "So if we don't look different, or act different, we needn't worry."

"You're a little too tall to blend in..." I caution, though I do see his point. His coloration and features are very close to those I've seen on the Greeks and the Romans. He could pass if he wanted to.

Marut rolls his eyes. "Have you seen some of the crusaders from the Frankish kingdom? From the north of the Holy Roman Empire? They're MASSIVE. They're as tall as I am." I frown at him in disbelief, but he persists. "It's true. You weren't there in Jerusalem. I saw them with my own eyes."

I grunt and roll once more onto my back, folding my arms beneath my head. "Did you sell them splinters of the true cross as well?"

"Of course I did."

Of course he did. "I go through all the trouble of protecting you from death, and it's like you court it at every opportunity."

He huffs and opens up the bible again. "Not every opportunity..."

I lay there in thought, mulling over the details of our trip north (which will bring us perilously close to Rome and the seat of this war-mad pope). "So how do I blend in?"

"You don't. I mean, look at you," he glances down at me, smirking. "You can't. So, we won't try. We'll say that I'm the wealthy son of a merchant from Crete, and you are my beautiful eunuch servant."

"Wait..."

"Albino eunuch servant, to explain your coloring."

"Marut, now hold on..."

"And we are heading north to Venice to pay fealty to our new rulers, now that Crete is in..."

"MARUT, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" The room falls silent as he looks down at me in surprise, and I push myself up to sit, frowning at him. "That's fucking humiliating. I'm not your eunuch servant!"

"Well of course you're not. But humans are stupid, and I'm not about to say 'Oh yes well this is my beloved mate who's an archangel, and we're immortal, and BOY do we have some fun stories but right now we need to get this key, and..."

I hold up a hand to command silence and Marut obeys, smiling prettily. My heart's pounding but I feel the chilly coil of resignation in my stomach that tells me his solution is probably the best one we have, especially if I'm seen unclothed. "I want you to know that I sincerely hate this... but we'll go with your idea." He nods, and I chew a little on the inside of my cheek. "Given how insane this country is... here, can you find me a map of our route north again?"

Marut nods again and sets the bible aside, getting off the bed to dig through his own luggage. "Ah, here it is." He brings back a large scroll and unwinds it on the bed, pointing to a little triangular island. "We're right here. Venice is up here. To walk, the shortest route is up along this eastern side."

"It looks like a boot, doesn't it," I muse, and he laughs. "What?"

"That was the first thing I said when I saw this map, too."

I smile at him and sigh. "Okay, so... there's Rome, right. I'm remembering this from the days of its empire... its borders have shrunk. Still... it would be faster to get on a ship headed for Venice and avoid the overland travel. Likely safer as well. The less we have to deal with these lunatics the better."

"I thought you hated boats..."

I lift a brow and mutter, "Nausea is better than walking through crusaders."

"Yeah, agreed. So, we hire another ship. Perhaps there's one setting out from Palermo soon. If not, we can certainly walk to another port on the island."

"Palermo is the capital, isn't it?" Marut nods, and I scratch at the back of my neck idly. "Then the most likely place to catch that ship is right here." I look over at him and ask softly, "Are there... any herbs or tinctures to help with sea sickness? That journey will take a few days, assuredly."

"I've heard that ginger root can help. Shall I go to the market and look for some today?"

I nod and he looks up at the closed window. Through the slats it's easy to see that it's already midmorning. "I'll go out now and see what I can find. Will you be staying here?" he asks, rolling up the map.

"I'm going to see about booking passage to Venice, or as close to it as we can get."

"Alright. I'll be back around midday, so if you're not here, I'll go look for you at the port." I give him a look, and he holds up his hands innocently. "Just in case!"

I make sure to pull up the hood of my robe to hide my features when I head out into the city on my own. I'm armed with two hidden daggers but seeing so many soldiers out on the streets all looking so alien and out of place is very disconcerting. Eventually I make my way to the port after feeling the need to divert down a side street or two to escape the growing interest of one particular soldier on patrol. The port master's office is tucked away among the warehouses at the water's edge, and I slip into it and make note of the chalkboard with ship names and destinations on it. One in particular, the Halberd, looks like it's due to leave in three days and still has room for passengers, so I gather the attention of the clerk behind the desk.

"Excuse me?" I attempt in Greek, but I'm ignored. I try again in Arabic, and then in Latin. That seems to do the trick, and the middle-aged man looks up at me, first with irritation, then confusion, then amusement.

"Wander away from the brothel, sweet thing? It's just down the road that way," he gestures, looking me up and down. His Latin is different, the words have all changed somewhat, but we can still understand each other.

I flush and swallow, frowning as I try to temper my indignance. "I wish to buy passage for two people on the Halberd for its voyage to Venice."

"Oh you do?" His smile is annoying in the extreme. "Well, I might have some tickets. Are you going with a friend?"

Marut I fucking hate you. "I'm heading there with my master. We have business to conduct."

"You're master, well now. And he's sent you here all on your own to pay the fair?" The man gets up from his desk, and I blink, then hold up my hands, taking a step back.

"Sir, I have coin. I only wish to... I'm only supposed to pay in coin." That doesn't deter him at all, and he rounds his desk and approaches me even as I back away.

"Which is it?" he muses, sliding a hand over my flat chest. "You don't want to pay any other way, or you aren't allowed to?"

I swat his hand away and stand up taller. "Both. Sir, I'm asking you politely..."

"And I'm the only portmaster here. If you want a ticket, well..." To my dismay he unfastens his pants and pulls out his cock, already half hard. I flush hotter when he shakes it towards me expectantly, keeping me nearly against the wall with the chalkboard on it.

My knees tingle as if my body is just telling me to give him what he wants and to get it over with, but having lived with Marut for so long has instilled in me an unwillingness to be bullied anymore. Rather than sink to my knees and suck his cock, I reach back to one of the daggers sheathed at the small of my back and pull it out just as I use my other hand to slap his cock sharply. The man grimaces with pain, then blinks as I grip his shirt and whirl him around into the wall, the dagger blade at his throat. Most of my powers might be gone, but I'm still very strong.

"I tried to ask you nicely," I hiss up at him. "Give me my passage onto that ship and I'll be gone."

The portmaster is panting in confusion and fear when we both hear the armored clank of a soldier nearing the office door. I glare up at the clerk and then sink down to my knees abruptly, taking up his cock and stroking it in the one hand while the other, unseen, holds the tip of the dagger blade up behind his ball sack. Within moments the soldier is at the door, peering in, and the portmaster, flustered, swallows and gestures for him to go away.

Once the door is pulled shut, I get to my feet and glare at the man, then gesture towards the desk with my dagger. "Now, if you would. I'm in a hurry." The clerk shivers and pulls up his pants, hurrying over to his desk to write out and stamp two tickets. I hand over the gold pieces in exchange, and just as I'd promised I'm gone from his life. My heart is pounding as I walk calmly back through the streets, trying to make it seem like I'm here in this city for a reason and not skulking about like a criminal or fleeing from an attempted rape. It's a very tense fifteen minutes as I get back towards the tavern, but just before I make it there I see Marut start walking towards me down the street from that direction and looking very tense. Our luggage, both bags, are strapped to his shoulders, and he drapes an arm around my waist and leads me back the way I'd come.

What's going on? I ask into his thoughts with no small amount of suspicion.

I'll explain once we're not out on the streets. Keep an eye out and your knives ready.

Great. I only notice now that he's dressed differently. His worn tunic, serwal, and robes are gone, and in their place are new garments - a black linen tunic that hems at the knee, a light gray surcoat over that, a braided leather belt, and a pair of black trousers that hug his legs, tucked into his riding boots. I hardly have time to decide whether I like this new style or not before he escorts me quickly into a small church.

It's comfortably cool and clean inside, and from what I can tell there isn't anyone here. There's a modest collection of pews and I take a seat in one towards the back, resting my hands in my lap and bowing my head in relief. Marut leans back by the closed main doors, listening to the street, and inevitably a regiment of armored soldiers jogs past, presumably looking for him. When they don't stop at the church he breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Oh..." comes a soft voice towards a door behind the altar. I lift my head sharply and I can hear Marut shift away from the wall, taking a step towards me. A young Sicilian man in brown robes looks at the two of us nervously, looks down, then sighs. "It's the soldiers again, isn't it?"

Marut's voice sounds tense despite his attempt at making his Latin casual. "Again? Aren't they always jogging around, weapons drawn?"

The young man smiles and approaches us slowly, giving us time to grow comfortable with his presence. We must be very obviously on edge. "The soldiers stationed here of late are little more than mercenaries and have no love for Saracens." He looks at Marut pointedly, and I glance back at him.

My mate stands behind my pew and sets our bags down, resting a hand on my shoulder to explain to me, "The Christian word for those they fight against in the crusades." To the young man in the vestments, he says, "No, they have no love for Saracens. Nor anyone else who looks different." I can feel his hand tighten on my shoulder, and I tiredly push back my hood to reveal my unusual features.

The young man looks at me, surprised a little at first, but then he smiles gently. "My name is Paolo. I am the attending brother of this holy place. If you need to stay here for a little while, please be welcome. There is a small dormitory in the cellar as well as a kitchen." He rubs his hands together. "Now is a dangerous time to be different in Sicily. I..." Paolo turns his head and grows tense, and I can feel Marut's tension in his hand. I stand up and turn to the door, reaching back for my daggers when our host whispers, "No! Please. I will hide you."

Marut gives him a disbelieving look, but Paolo hurries around to us and past us, opening up an odd wooden chamber little bigger than a wardrobe. "In here!" I slip inside, and Marut is quick to take up our belongings and stash them under a sheet covering a pile of construction materials. Then he's in the small chamber with me, both of us just fitting inside with the door closed when the main entrance to the church is pushed open and the clank of armor fills the empty space, their steps sounding from everywhere as they spread out to search.