“That’s very true. I was just about to have some tea myself, with no sugar. Would you like a cup?”
“Sure, but with sugar.”
“Excellent. Let’s go sit. I’ll have someone give these pieces a thorough washing so we can use them next time we want some tea.”
Puk followed him into the dining area and took a seat while Botro slunk into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with a tray of steaming hot tea, a couple pastries, and plenty of sugar.
They prepared their respective cups in silence. Puk’s spoon clinked against the side of his teacup, which was a pastel pink with yellow trim.
Botro then said, “Please don’t take offense to this, but you seem to me a bit…out of it. Are you okay?”
“Out of it right now or out of it in general?” asked Puk, still calmed by the effects of the fire-spit. He had no idea if Botro could tell he was high. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he thought he was doing an admirable job.
“Both, I suppose.”
“I’m alright,” Puk shrugged.
Botro nodded and considered his answer. “You kept saying to me that you have no money. Is that true? Or was it an exaggeration?”
“It’s true.”
“Is the tea set stolen?” It was the first time Botro looked more serious than jovial.
“Nah, I bought it,” said Puk, taking a sip of the tea. It soothed his throat but still wasn’t sweet enough. He added more sugar. “I’ve now got three crescents to my name.”
“How is it you only have three crescents?” Botro asked with genuine concern and bemusement.
Puk grunted. “I was part of a traveling qarmish troupe, but they kicked me out after our show the other night. I’m from Atlua, but they were my ticket back home, where all my shit is. I’ve got nothin’ in Herrilock.”
Botro frowned. “Why did they kick you out?” He immediately caught himself and added, “You don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal.”
He appreciated all that Botro had done for him, but the man did not need to know about his affinity for fire-spit. “It’s a long story,” was all that he offered.
“Fair enough.” Botro contemplated this for a moment, pausing to drink his tea. He then asked, “What did you do for the troupe?”
Puk sighed. He hated talking about his performance. “I was a singer.”
“Were you kicked out because you’re a bad singer?”
“No,” Puk laughed.
“You’re good?”
“I’m not bad.”
“‘Not bad’ is just another way of saying ‘good.’ Here’s the thing: I take it you want to return to Atlua, right?”
Puk nodded.
“Which requires getting on a ship in Restick or Toralas or I guess even Rus Rahl, but I take it any ship harboring in Rus Rahl is significantly out of your price range. And then even before that, you need to get to one of those cities.”
Puk nodded again.
“I think we can arrange something mutually beneficial here. I’ve been searching for some talent to perform at the inn a couple nights a week, like singers or musicians. I admit, I’ve already signed a contract with someone, but she isn’t able to start for another few weeks after she takes care of some family affairs in Gillus. If you’d like, you can work here at the inn singing for the guests, and I’ll pay you for it. Just until my other singer is available, of course. But by then I think you’d have enough to at least get yourself to the coast. And, of course, I can arrange for you to sleep and eat here for free. How does all of that sound?”
Realistically, there was nothing to consider. Puk would be a fool not to accept the incredibly generous offer from the absurdly generous man, but a nagging part in the back of his mind wanted to just find some more fire-spit and waste the day away. Singing was the very last item on his list of things to do.
“That sounds good to me,” he finally said, conceding to good sense. “That’s a very kind offer, Mr. Shiar.”
Botro laughed. “Even if I’m your boss, you can still call me Botro,” he said. “No need for formalities. But I’m glad to hear that. And I am excited to hear your voice! My father would take me to see qarmish troupes as a boy, and I always loved them. Qarmish music is so great.”
Puk smiled. Getting back into singing after the few rough days he’d had might not be the worst thing for him.
“When do you want me to start?” he asked.
The man looked him up and down once more and said, “I can tell you’re tired today, so how about tomorrow night? That’ll give you time to enjoy your tea, maybe get some dinner, and relax in your room to prepare whatever you’d like to sing.”
Puk nodded in agreement, and with that, Botro stood and returned to his duties managing the inn, leaving Puk alone to finish the pot of tea still steaming on the table beside him.
He poured himself a bit more, being sure to scoop in a sufficient amount of sugar, and sighed contentedly, pleased with how everything was working out.
He’d be able to afford more fire-spit soon.
- -
The night was heavy but her sleep was not. Kali’s eyes flashed open with the tittering of her door’s lock.
She was in bed, facing the window. A black square sprinkled with starlight.
For a moment, she wondered if she’d hallucinated, or perhaps was hearing a noise from elsewhere in the outpost, but then the sound came again. Someone was trying to break into her room.
It was not hard to predict who it might be.
Lucky for her, he was incompetent and making a racket with the lock. Kali soundlessly leapt from the bed and rummaged through her knapsack on the floor, fumbling for the antique dagger she had bought from Vonoshreb. She grinned as she wrapped a sweaty hand around the weapon’s cold hilt.
Jeth was still tinkering with the door when she slid back into bed underneath her sheets. She faced the window again, feigning sleep. Ready for him.
It took almost two full minutes, but finally the door creaked open and Jeth’s unsteady footsteps followed. Kali clasped her eyelids shut tight and tried to keep her breathing regular, inconspicuous.
“I know you’re awake,” came Jeth’s raspy drawl. “Heard you doin’ somethin’.”
So neither she nor Jeth had been as sneaky as they’d planned. Kali swore internally but kept her eyes shut for the moment. Maybe he would fall for it. Doubt himself.
“Don’t make a sound,” Jeth warned her. “Make a sound, I’ll have to do somethin’ less than favorable. I ain’t here to hurt you. I don’t wanna hurt you. Just here for your shit.”
She then heard a rustling and opened her eyes to spy him crouched low to the ground, going through her bag with his free hand. In the other, he held a pistol with a long barrel. It was currently half-cocked, and she wondered if it was loaded or simply for show.
Jeth looked up and saw her observing him. He grinned.
“If you scream, so does my gun,” he said, nodding toward the firearm. “And I think I know which of you is louder.”
Kali slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, not bothering to conceal the dagger. There wasn’t much in the sack, but she didn’t have much in life. What was there was a lot to her. She wasn’t going to let this person take it from her.
At the sight of her dagger, Jeth chuckled and stopped his search. He grabbed the handle of the bag and stood up straight, holding his pistol farther out, fully cocking it.
“Don’t need to get closer,” he said. “Might be easier if I just take this whole thing, don’t you think?”
“No, I do not think.”
“What a shame,” said Jeth. “With such a pretty face, I’d hope there’s a big brain to match. But you can’t win ’em all, I s’pose.” He turned to leave.
She had to act fast. On instinct, she threw the dagger at the man’s back.
There was a gross miscalculation and the dagger’s hilt smacked into the back of Jeth’s head rather than the blade stabbing into his
back, but regardless of her intentions, it bought her some time.
Jeth stumbled forward, dropping the knapsack to clutch his aching head, which caused him to trip over the knapsack he had dropped and slam the front of his face into the side of the door, sending it swinging shut with a thunderous thwump!
Kali raced around the bed and snatched the dagger up off the ground. In front of her, Jeth was lethargically rolling from his belly onto his back, the pistol still gripped in his hand.
She swiftly stabbed the arm that held the gun, and Jeth instantly dropped it while letting out a high-pitched shriek.
In dropping the gun, his finger had squeezed the trigger and the flintlock fired, but no bullet came out. It hadn’t been loaded after all.
Dipshit.
Jeth clutched at his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Globs of red gushed between his fingers and ran down his uninjured arm as well.
“You bitch!” he yelled.
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, giving him a hearty whack on the chest with the dagger’s hilt. He huffed out a pained moan.
The door was shoved open, hitting Jeth in the head as he lay there on the floor, and the retired Atluan Guard that Kali had spoken to earlier in the evening stood there. She absorbed the scene for a moment before barking out a hoarse laugh.
“You really laid this fucker out!” she beamed.
Kali had to laugh as well. “I guess I did,” she said.
“Fuck you both!” Jeth chimed in.
The woman was still holding onto the doorknob, so she took the opportunity to swing the door into his head again. He wailed but kept his comments to himself.
After a few moments, a mustachioed man bearing an outpost uniform appeared in the doorway behind the woman and looked aghast at the mayhem before him.
“What in the world happened here?” he demanded to know.
The retiree took it upon herself to explain for Kali. “It seems this unpleasant fellow was forcing himself into the lady’s room and so she laid the fucker out. Is that about right?”
Kali nodded.
Jeth decided to speak up. “Can you help me with the bleeding here?” he wheezed desperately to the employee. He got the door slammed into his head again.
“Ma’am, please, that’s quite enough,” said the mustachioed man, who was clearly trying to wrap his head around how to tackle this bizarre situation. He ducked into the room and helped Jeth to his feet, leading the injured man out into the hallway and down the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
“Hell of a job, kid,” said the woman. The smile had not yet left her face. “The name’s Beatrix.” She held out her hand.
Kali took it. “Kallia,” she introduced herself. “I go by Kali, usually.”
“Nice to meet you, Kali,” said Beatrix, retracting her hand. “I always enjoy meeting someone who can handle themselves. It fills me with glee, I must say.”
Kali laughed and thanked the woman. “It was just necessity.”
Beatrix nodded, her expression turning severe. “He didn’t…?”
She knew what Beatrix was getting at. “No, no, thankfully not,” she said. It gave her chills thinking about Jeth’s flesh touching hers, even for an instant. “He was only trying to rob me.”
“‘Only,’” Beatrix chortled. “What a guy.” She crouched down to pick up the man’s gun that he had left behind. She tossed it over in her hands, inspecting it at each angle. “Not a bad gun,” she said. “Back in my day, these things were a lot worse and a lot less common. But I guess someone’s going to keep working on improvements so we can keep killing shit easier.” She grabbed it by the barrel and held the grip out toward Kali.
She shook her head adamantly. “Oh, no, I don’t want that.”
“That shithead certainly doesn’t need it, and I don’t want him to have it,” said Beatrix. “Might come in handy for you.”
Kali continued to shake her head. “No, thank you. You can keep it,” she insisted.
Beatrix nodded and shrugged. “Works for me. Could use it in my line of work.”
“I thought you were retired,” said Kali.
“Yeah, well, you know. Retirement doesn’t always suit everyone.” She took a step back out into the hallway and said, “I’ll go fetch someone to come clean up in here so you can get back to sleep soon.”
Kali thanked her again and watched as she shuffled down the stairs in search of an employee.
She was suddenly aware of how frantically her heart pounded in her chest. Its rhythm finally began to slow as she took long, steady breaths. She knelt down on the ground, avoiding the intruder’s blood, and looked through her bag to ensure every item and crescent was accounted for.
Satisfied that Jeth had not made a getaway with anything, she latched the knapsack again and slid it underneath her bed. She stood back up and sat herself down to await the arrival of an outpost employee to clean up the mess for her.
Her hand still firmly gripped the dagger. She needed to wipe the blood off its blade.
CHAPTER IV
SWEET SHERI
“Look at this boy! Look how beautiful! You treat him like a prince, I can tell just by looking at him.”
The stablemaster was a muscular old man by the name of Gregori, whom Kali’s father had grown up with, remaining friends throughout the years. Gregori was a bit older than her father, but their childhood homes had been on the same street and they had ended up running in the same circles.
He stood watching with his hands on his hips as Kali and Bango approached. A goofy, proud grin was plastered across his wrinkled, weathered face.
Bango squeaked happily at the sight of his owner and wagged his tail wildly behind him, whacking Kali in the back and putting some pep in her step. She hurried ahead of the ayote and greeted Gregori, who wrapped her in a hug.
“Was he alright this time around?” the man asked, already knowing the answer. It was always the same.
“Of course he was,” Kali smiled. “Bango is always a consummate gentleman. Aren’t you, boy?” The animal had caught up and she scratched him behind his ears. His tail continued whipping around like a crazed snake.
Gregori attached the blue-dyed lead rope to Bango and began guiding him back to the stable. Kali followed, as she did every time, wanting to give Bango a proper farewell once he was housed.
Plus, Gregori usually had the best gossip waiting for her when she returned from her trips.
“So,” the man started, unprompted, “have you heard the latest?”
“The latest about what?” she giggled.
“Word has it they mighta found the bones of a new aeon!” He gasped for effect, despite already knowing the news he was relaying to her. “One out in the ocean somewhere, between here and Vareda.”
Kali was intrigued. And Gregori knew she was, but he never divulged the full story at once. He had to bait her, make her ask questions. It was the thrill of the gossip for him.
“How did they manage to find that? Why would someone have been at the bottom of the sea?”
“Terrible business,” Gregori muttered. “A Gillusian airship was flying over the ocean—wasn’t on any official trade or governmental business or anything, just a sightseeing cruise, you know how those fancy Gillusians are—and some Varedan ship shot it down.”
“Pirates?”
Gregori shrugged. He pulled open the stable door and led them down the long row of stabled ayotes. Each side of the building was able to hold fifteen of the animals, and a little less than half were currently occupied. The stable’s residents yipped at the arrival of Gregori.
He went on, “The ship was sporting the official military flag. That’s all I’ve heard. Pirates are no strangers to waving false flags to trick other sailors, but things have been tense between Gillus and Vareda for a while now…”
“True,” said Kali, “but attacking a ship full of socialites seems like a pretty low tactic.” Her face scrunched up at the smell of dung as they passed by excited ayotes on their
way to Bango’s stable.
“I agree,” said Gregori. “It makes a lot of sense for pirates to go after the wealthy. That’s what pirates want, right? Wealth. But the thing is they shot it down and the ship crashed into the ocean, as an airship does when it’s in the air, and the Varedan ship just left. Like it didn’t give a dang about what it’d done.”
They came to a halt at Bango’s freshly-cleaned stable. The ayote gleefully waddled inside, his shell just barely slipping through the entryway. He was still growing.
Gregori unhooked the lead and Bango turned around once inside to face the stable to his left, which housed his best friend there, a female named Letty. The two yipped and yowled ecstatically at their reunion. Kali grinned, warmed to see him so happy.
But the old man wasn’t done telling his story. He had a habit of being somewhat long-winded. “Anyway, regardless of whether Vareda’s starting a war or not, the Gillusians managed to get the word out and contracted some people in Lyukashi to go search the wreckage for ’em. The official word was to ‘seek out any survivors,’ but we all know the dang Gillusians just wanted to recover whatever valuables woulda been lost on that ship.”
Kali had never been to Lyukashi, and she was impressed that Gillus had been able to send a message to its residents with such haste. It was primarily a centript hive on the other side of Vanap’s Peaks, opposite Yspleash, and it was fairly isolated from outsiders. But it was very close to the eastern coast and probably closest to where the ship went down, if it had gone down between Herrilock and Vareda, which lay east across the sea. Centripts’ respiratory systems made them exceptionally skilled divers, able to submerge for up to three hours at a time without issue.
Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2) Page 9
