The Voice

The sun shone defiantly in the chilly air as the white sails of the Hataras made their way with all speed towards the coast of Darmica. Several of the ship’s company were out on the riggings, and many were up on deck gazing off at the coast. Rugged hills could be seen through the mist, along with the dim peak of the tallest tower of a palace. While many of the ship’s people watched the coast, the younger passengers were grouped in a clump, listening to a man who paced back and forth in a dignified manner in front of them.
The man was Katir Hataras, the ship’s captain. He stood holding a dagger and demonstrating techniques to the group, who watched in a huddle.
Katir was thirty or so, a strong, tough man who was also uncommonly handsome; the years had only made him more so. He held the dagger firmly and skillfully, and in his work he was solemn and serious, a sharp contrast to the boy he had been fifteen years ago, to whoever remembered. His voice was not loud, but his charismatic air was unmistakable, and the group of teenage girls and boys sat hooked to his every word.
“You all know that after this voyage, the Council and I will choose my successor. One among you will be chosen, will end up by my side, learning the skills necessary to be not only the captain of the ship but the leader of the entire Hataras clan. This boy or girl must show talent in all areas, from book-learning to fighting to the art of selling our goods. Rali, would you mind stepping forward?”
The boy who had been called walked up to the front, picked up a dagger, and tossed it in the air, catching it again by the hilt as it spun. He looked to the group as if hoping for some sort of applause. He tossed back his jet-black hair, strode leisurely up to the front, and smiled lazily towards the girls in the front. It was the general consensus among most of them that he was perfection embodied, at least in looks.
He took his position facing Katir and when Katir nodded, Rali lunged. Katir went in and before anyone could blink an eye, Rali’s dagger was on the ground, sliding across the deck.
“Really,” Katir said, “I haven’t yet seen a lot of potential with any of you bunch. Except possibly… Cass and Jasmin, show us how it’s done.”
Jasmin got up gracefully, like a dancer. She was a slender girl, with a braid of silky black hair down her back and large, slanted dark eyes like a cat’s. Her name was Jasmin, and her voice was catlike too, silky but never far away from a laugh. None of the boys would really fight Jasmin in lessons. They’d let her win while she giggled and they imagined being close to her in a far different context.
Cassah was Jasmin’s best friend, but the two of them were nothing alike. Cassah was pale for a Karikan. She was pretty but not stunning, and she did not laugh as easily as did Jasmin. There was a sort of regal bearing about her and she was not afraid to speak her mind to anyone. She took herself and her schooling seriously, and she had a talent for the fighting arts. She was as practical as Jasmin was beautiful, and the two of them basked in each other’s glories, inseparable, to the point that when one came up in conversation, the other was sure to follow. As a result of this, no one realized that Jasmin had real talents, and no one realized that Cassah could be considered attractive. They were the smart one and the beautiful one.
It was probably this that most of the spectators were thinking about as the two girls began to practice fight, Jasmin smiling, Cassah intense, unreadable. They went through motions that they had been taught with daggers that could not hurt each other. On the mainland, Karikans carried real daggers. The Masks were not dead everywhere, and it was always best to be able to defend oneself.
Suddenly Cassah stopped. She put down her dagger, and Jasmin had to pull back to avoid hitting her.
“What, Cass?” said Jasmin, her defined features arranged into a perplexed expression.
“Did you hear that?” said Cassah, looking around.
“Hear what?”
“That voice… it just said, ‘Ah, so I’ve finally found you.’”
Now the bemused expression spread to the rest of the people gathered, including Katir. “Cassah, there was no voice,” he said firmly. “Right, class dismissed.” He turned away, as if he was hiding something in his eyes. The group was suddenly uneasy and silent; the very sound of the waves seemed ominous. The sun in the cold air seemed too bright, even malignant. Everyone alternately looked at Cassah or looked around for the source of Cassah’s voice.
Then a boy called Ari laughed, a sort of nervous giggle. “Cassah, you are bloody crazy. Always known it.”