by Sky Croft
“I am Pathos, reputable trader of fine wares.” Pathos extended a cordial hand to Shale, and out of courtesy she took it.
There were several necklaces on the stall, and as Blake picked one out, Pathos moved keenly toward her.
“You have excellent taste,” he said. “But if I may say, a beauty such as yourself deserves a more befitting pendant. Something more exquisite.”
Blake’s tone was droll. “And no doubt more expensive.”
Pathos wagged a finger at her. “You cannot put a price on beauty.”
Shale gave the trader a wry smirk. “You just did.”
“I see I’m not going to get anything past you two.” Pathos sighed, though it was good-natured. “The gods blessed you both with beauty and intelligence. How refreshing. But extremely unfortunate for my business. Would you really begrudge me a living?” He traced a hand across his podgy, plain face. “We weren’t all blessed by the gods.”
Shale chuckled, tickled by his banter. “You are good at this, Pathos. I think the gods blessed you with a sharp tongue. Go on and show us the pendant.”
Pathos grinned and ducked beneath his stall for a moment. He could be heard rustling around, searching. When he reappeared, he was holding a dark colored cloth. Pathos placed the cloth in front of Blake, lowering his voice as he leaned toward her. “I reserve the best, for the best.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “It also doesn’t hurt to keep the most valuable trinkets out of the way of thieving hands.”
“Given the experience we’ve just had, that’s probably wise.” Blake peeled back the cloth, her eyes lighting up when they landed on the necklace underneath. The pendant was an unusual teardrop design, made of silver filigree, and beautifully embellished with diamonds and an emerald centerpiece. “It’s stunning, Pathos. Look, Shale.”
“It is lovely,” Shale said, her voice sincere. “Though it would look even more attractive if it was on you, Blake.” She smiled, enjoying the faint blush that crept across Blake’s skin. “Don’t you agree, Pathos?”
The trader didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely. Why don’t you try it on?”
Blake looked eager for an instant, then she reluctantly shook her head. “I can’t justify spending that amount. It’s a small fortune.” “Just try it.” Shale was already lifting the necklace and seating the silver chain around Blake’s neck. She fastened it in place, then took a step back to view the complete picture.
“My goodness,” Pathos whispered, almost to himself.
Shale simply stared, a devoted look on her face. “Helen, herself, could not be more radiant.”
Blake’s blush deepened, but the smile she gave Shale was dazzling.
“She’ll take it.” Shale handed a gold coin to him in payment.
“Shale, no, it’s too much.”
“It’s as if it was made just for you, Blake. It brings out the color of your eyes perfectly.”
Pathos blinked at the amount in his hand. “I can’t make change for this,” he said, startled. He lowered his voice, clearly not wanting to be overheard. “Haven’t you got any silver?”
“Not enough.”
Pathos’s face fell, obviously not wanting to lose the sale of a lifetime down to incorrect funds.
“Shale,” Blake whispered to her. “That money is for you to spend on yourself. You each got two gold coins to do with as you wished.”
The handful of gold coins that Kale had found and brought up from the tunnel had been divided equally between Kale, Amber, and Shale. As a reward from their queen. They’d kept aside three of the gold coins to buy the supplies and tools that they’d need for the return trip, but that amount was excessive, and would more than cover anything they wished to purchase.
Though it was true there was more gold to be had, a bagful spilling over with it in fact, never mind what else they might find down in the caves, it would go to the Amazon tribe as a whole, to help and better the lives of all, rather than only themselves.
“Well, I wish to spend it on you.” Shale smiled as she fingered the necklace that was still around Blake’s neck.
“There must be something you want, Shale.”
“You know I don’t wear jewelry.”
Blake gave her a look. “Not here. I mean in general. How often do you have gold at your fingertips?”
“I have you. There’s nothing more I could possibly want.”
Blake smiled broadly. “You’re such a charmer.” She paused, as if forgetting her train of thought. “Stop trying to distract me.”
“Blake, honestly, making you happy, makes me happy. So please, let me get you the necklace.”
Seeing that Blake had no comeback for that, Shale grinned and turned back to Pathos. She picked out the necklace that Blake had originally selected, and held it up to Pathos. “I’ll take this as well. Does that seem fair?”
Pathos nodded, looking as if he couldn’t quite believe his good fortune. “More than fair. Do you see anything else you would like? No extra charge, of course,” he hastily added.
“Blake?” Shale asked, since a jewelry stall held little appeal for her personally. The only jewelry she wore, though she didn’t consider it as such, was her joining ring to Blake.
Blake scanned the stand once more. She shook her head.
Pathos held up a finger, then ducked underneath the table. He came back up holding two neatly designed pouches, each embroidered smartly on the top. He offered them to Blake. “For your necklaces.”
Blake smiled at Pathos, clearly appreciating his extra effort. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said graciously. “Thank you both.”
Once the necklaces were tucked safely away in Blake’s satchel, they left Pathos and his stall behind, waving as he bid them a safe journey.
As Shale again led them through the crowd, heading toward the blacksmiths, Blake stretched up and whispered saucily into Shale’s ear. “You’ll receive your thank you later.”
Shale grinned over her shoulder, squeezing the hand that she held in her own. “I can’t wait.”
“KALE, STOP.” AMBER slapped Kale’s hand away from the satchel. “I see now why you wanted us to be responsible for collecting the food supplies.”
Kale munched on a mouthful of bread, which she’d torn off from one of the loaves they’d just bought. The bread was still warm, soft and delicious. “We’ve got more than enough for the four of us there, it’s not like we’re going to go hungry on our journey anytime soon.”
“We will if you keep eating it.”
Kale scoffed. “Fine. I won’t have anymore.” She tauntingly held up the chunk of bread. “I’ll just finish this piece.”
“I swear, your stomach is as deep as a well.”
“It’s an empty well at the moment.” Kale sighed dramatically. “That tavern better have good food.”
Amber gave Kale’s stomach a quick, comical rub. “I’m sure it will. Now, have we got everything?” She paused, as if thinking through a mental list. “Bread, cheese, meat, fruit...”
“You’re really not helping, Amber,” Kale said. “You’re meant to be taking my mind off food, not tormenting me with it.”
Amber laughed. “All right, all right. Since we’ve purchased the supplies we need, we are free to do as we wish. What do you suggest?”
“I know of one thing that will distract me.” Kale let her gaze rake slowly across Amber’s body, a seductive smile forming.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of town, with a busy marketplace a mere stone’s throw away.”
“We could always get a room at the tavern?” Kale said.
Amber seemed to consider it. “We could, but the walls are parchment thin in those places, and you know I have difficulty controlling myself.”
Kale grinned. Amber was very vocal while making love, which Kale found to be highly erotic. “Nor would I want you to.” Her eyes scanned the surrounding area. “I have an idea.”
Kale grabbed Amber’s hand and pul
led her toward the outer edge of town, between two buildings, leading them down the dimly lit passageway to the far end. The noise of the market had faded considerably, and as Kale stuck her head around the back of the building, she saw that it was deserted, not a soul could be seen, everyone was at the market.
She stopped and regarded Amber. “It’s hardly the most romantic place, but at least there’s more privacy than at the tavern.”
“I’m with you, that’s all the romance I need,” Amber said.
It wasn’t as if romance didn’t factor into their relationship, because it did, but they were both warriors, and it wasn’t a particularly high priority for either woman. The physical act of being intimate was enough for them, they didn’t particularly care about the setting.
Amber teasingly waggled her eyebrows. “I’m suddenly feeling selfconscious—you may need to convince me.”
Kale smiled and stepped closer, reaching behind Amber and cupping her rump with strong, firm hands. Though her mouth was tantalizingly close to Amber’s, Kale simply watched her, seeing desire flood through Amber as she began to knead her buttocks. Kale knew this simple action never failed to inflame Amber, and as she continued her massage, Amber pressed herself intimately against Kale, groaning at the contact.
Kale swallowed hard, the touch stimulating her also. As she kneaded Amber’s rump, squeezing with more pressure, their mounds rubbed against one another, causing a delicious friction. With one hand, Amber drew their mouths together, tongues thrusting out to caress and duel. Her other hand wound its way down Kale’s stomach, and was about to dip beneath Kale’s skirt when a loud clatter distracted them.
Their heads whipped toward the sound—a man was sprinting toward them. The noise had come from a barrel he’d just knocked over. His face was filthy, but had been washed clean in some places by a trail of tears. The man was blubbing, crying heavily, and kept glancing back over his shoulder as if in fear of being chased.
His direction was such that he clearly intended to run right past them, but when his eyes landed on Kale horror appeared on his features.
“How did you...?” He looked behind himself, then back again to Kale. “Please, I’m leaving. Don’t take my hand.”
Kale shared a confused look with Amber. When she turned back to the man, he was already fleeing, scampering away in a different direction.
“What in Artemis’s name?”
“I have no clue as to what...” Kale recalled how he had looked at her, as if he recognized her. The pieces suddenly clicked into place. “He must have had a run in with Shale.”
She let out a frustrated sigh as Amber took a step back—the interruption had ruined the mood completely. “And whatever it was,” Kale said as she clenched her jaw, “there had better be a damn good reason for it.”
Amber chuckled. “Look on the bright side, it distracted you from food.”
“Yes, but now I’m left with a different kind of hunger. And this kind is a lot worse.”
Amber soundly kissed her. “Hold that thought.”
Kale felt her body respond to the kiss, her desire still very close to the surface. “Amber, again, you’re not helping.”
AS BLAKE ENTERED the blacksmith’s shop, a mere step behind Shale, she immediately noticed a huge bear of a man standing over a forge, working a piece of metal.
The blacksmith’s bulging muscles were a testament to hard labor. It was uncomfortably hot, so he wore no shirt, only a grubby leather apron, which revealed his powerful body to full effect. He cut an imposing figure.
Blake surmised from the blacksmith’s surprised expression that he didn’t get many female customers. Still, that was no excuse for his rude demeanor. His gaze glossed across Blake in a belittling fashion, paying her no heed as he overlooked her and went straight to Shale—likely figuring that he might get some business from a warrior.
“Something I can get you, Amazon?” His voice was gruff, fitting for such a man. He put down his well-used hammer and came their way, though his focus remained only on Shale.
Shale reached overhead, her long body stretching upward to the lantern that hung from the rafters. She gave it a tug to get the handle over the supporting nail, then handed it to Blake.
Blake studied it for a moment, keeping the blacksmith waiting. The lantern was sturdy enough, and she always appreciated good craftsmanship. She was pleased to see that it already held a candle inside.
Shale nodded to the impatient blacksmith. “We’ll take four of these, and four spare candles too.”
The blacksmith looked pleasantly surprised, as if he’d expected them to be time-wasters.
Shale turned to Blake. “Do you think four spare will be enough?”
“I would’ve thought so. Still,” Blake raised her voice. “Better make that six candles.” The blacksmith released an unintelligible grunt as he went about collecting the items.
“Can I see the list, Blake?”
Blake unfolded the parchment, scanning it along with Shale to see what else they required. When the blacksmith returned, carrying everything easily in his ample arms, he set them down on a counter next to Shale, and again only addressed her, ignoring Blake completely.
“Anything else?”
Blake felt her skin prickle in annoyance. If there was one thing she didn’t tolerate well, it was rudeness. As queen, she’d had little of it in her life, and because of that she couldn’t endure it for long. Still, she made herself bite her tongue, they needed these supplies, and this was the only blacksmith around.
“She has the list,” Shale said to the man, clearly reading Blake despite her attempt to suppress her irritation. “The money too.” She moved aside, and picked up an item on a nearby shelf.
Blake could have kissed her, and she had to fight to keep from outright smirking at the ill-mannered blacksmith. She was quite impressed with Shale’s diplomacy. Shale had chastened the blacksmith with subtle effectiveness, correcting him in such a way that wouldn’t cause him offense, but righting the situation nonetheless. Not for the first time, Blake thought that Shale would make a fine addition to the council.
“Right, well,” The blacksmith finally acknowledged Blake. “Tell me what I can get you.”
Blake read from the parchment. “We’ll start with some twine, a good length of it. And the strongest hammer and chisel you have.” She waited while he fetched the objects. Blake took the chisel from him, testing it to ensure its quality.
“It’s good and strong,” he said. “My steel does not yield.”
Shale came back and tested both the hammer and the chisel. “It is as he says,” she said to Blake.
A fragment of a smile appeared on his unshaven face. “I do not lie. Ask anyone and they will tell you, Diokles makes tools like Hephaestus himself.”
Blake raised an incredulous eyebrow. “That’s quite a boast.”
Diokles scowled at her skepticism. “Woman, it is but the mere truth.”
“It better be,” Blake hardened her tone. “Because the last thing we need is for your tools to break.”
Diokles obviously took affront to her words, for his voice rose in anger. “My tools will not fail you. You have my word as a blacksmith.”
Blake held his glower for a long moment. Though Diokles towered above her in the confrontation, she felt perfectly safe, for she could feel Shale’s protective presence against her back.
“Very well,” Blake said finally, his impassioned defense telling her what she needed to know—Diokles believed his words to be true. “We need a solid hammer.” She read from the list. “What length is your longest rope?”
Diokles scratched his stubbled chin. “Fifty coils.” His gaze condescendingly assessed Blake’s smaller frame. “But it’s very heavy.”
Blake put a hand on her hip, not liking his insinuation that she was incapable of carrying such a load.
“We’ll take three fifty coils, and one thirty coil,” Shale said.
As Diokles went out back to fetch the rope, she adde
d, “The rope we already have with us is thirty coil, it would weigh almost twice that.”
Blake hadn’t realized that. The rope they had was heavy enough. Since she didn’t have a warrior’s muscle mass, she assumed Shale had ordered the single, lighter rope for her to carry. It made sense for the three heavier ropes to be distributed between Shale, Amber, and Kale. Blake nodded at Shale, a touch sheepishly. “I was about to order four just to spite him.”
“I know.” Shale rubbed her back. “Don’t let him vex you.” She moved to a selection of tools that were hung on the wall, and selected a couple, adding them to the ever-growing pile on the counter. “You know, Blake, it might be an idea to leave this stuff here, and we’ll pick it up later. It’ll be difficult to lug all this back through that crowd.”
Blake could see her point. Before she could respond, Diokles returned, carrying all of the ropes at once, two over his bull-like neck and one over each arm.
“One thirty coil.” He placed it on the countertop, next to the other goods. He slid the other rope off his arm, then removed the two from around his neck. “And three fifty coil.”
“That’s everything.” Shale smiled politely at him. “I added a few extra tools to our load.”
If Diokles was surprised by her honesty, he didn’t show it, his eyes flicking across the purchases as if to tally the other tools onto the amount. “A gold piece.”
“What?” Blake uttered in disbelief. “I’d want these tools to be made by Hephaestus for that much.”
The blacksmith merely shrugged. “You have many items.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Half of what you ask would be extortionate, never mind a gold coin.”
“You are not from around here. In Pyrrhos, these are the prices.”
“That’s horse dung and you know it.”
Diokles snorted. “And what would you know of it? A woman knows nothing of trade.”
Blake knew well the prices acceptable for trade, she’d written plenty of trade negotiations in her time. “Well since I am a poor, simple woman,” her tone dripped sarcasm, “why don’t you break the cost down for me, tell me what each item is worth.” At his hesitation, she continued. “No? Well let me do it for you.”
