The Sanraethi had certainly been stationed before the dock to shoo away beggars or stowaways, not to repel an altercation. It didn't appear the crowd would be easily dissuaded, though: angry shouts rose from their ranks like the chorus cawing seabirds, and a few raised their fists, spat at the soldiers, and tried to push them out of the way.
"I don't suppose it's the foreigners they're mad at." I looked from the mounting disturbance to the remaining crates Rayyan and I had yet to load. Only three left, but it would take another half hour at least to get them all tied in the nets, secure for transfer, and up over the railing of the deck.
I glanced toward the end of the dock and the gangplank leading up to the ship. Mara, Ailsa, and a handful of sailors had taken notice of the disturbance, too, and paused in their work to watch with furrowed brows and curious expressions.
The cat gave a rumbling, inquisitive noise and struggled in my hands. When I relaxed my grip, it slipped through my fingers and up to my shoulder. There, it hunkered down, and a low, gravelly growl ticked away in its throat.
I grasped for it again, but the cat ducked my hands. "What is this thing doing?"
Rayyan didn't answer. He crouched to retrieve the spear he'd set aside when our work began, and as he rose back to his full height, he positioned himself between me and the crowd.
"You should get onto the boat, Sadira. I don't know if—"
Before he could finish, something came sailing through the air and struck me on my left shoulder with a sharp, solid pain. Startled, I fell back two staggering steps, clutching at the spot with my right hand.
"Sacred serpent!" I hissed. A smooth, white stone the size of a bread roll lay on the boards at my feet.
I had just enough time to realize what the angry crowd meant to do before another flying missile struck me square on the forehead. Not a rock this time, but some foul, fermented fruit with bruised red skin, soft and dotted with mold. It splattered when it hit, sending stinging juices down into my eye and over my cheeks.
"That's right, whore of Alaric!" yelled a tall, pimply boy who must have been no older than fifteen. "We know who you are!"
"When is this going to end?" I snapped as I wiped rotten fruit from my face.
One of the Sanraethi grabbed the boy by the arm and shoved him back. A squat, hunched older woman darted past the guard and pelted me with two eggs, and another stone fell just short of hitting my kneecap.
"The ship," Rayyan told me, moving between me and the group.
People jostled and pushed aside the Sanraethi. Over my shoulder, Mara shouted instructions to two of her warriors, ordering them to join the guards and keep the mob at bay.
"The ship, Sadira!"
"No." I sank into a ready stance of snake and scorpion, a pose of power in the dance-like martial art of chorremachi. "I'm not running, Rayyan. Let them try and bury me in their rotten fruit. I am through with this!"
The caracal kitten on my shoulder arched its back and hissed.
Three of the mob managed to push the first guard off the side of the dock and into the water. The second guard lifted and spun her spear, leveling it at her attackers, but she could no longer hold them at bay: several sprinted past her toward me.
Rayyan and I readied ourselves. The caracal spit and growled.
One of the men lifted his arm to send another rock my way, when a wild, savage howl sounded from the pier.
Slinking out from between buildings, moving like oily shadows, a pack of wild dogs prowled toward the crowd.
Chapter Four
The dogs snapped and barked at the mob as the came near, and one lunged at a man who tried to kick it, tearing off his boot with a snarl.
"What now?" I whispered at Rayyan.
Rayyan stared at the dogs, wide-eyed, but kept a firm, brave expression on his face.
"This city seems to have a problem with wild beasts." He leveled his spear at the lead dog, the biggest of the pack. "A caracal kitten is one thing, but jackals?"
The dogs strode right past the mob, snapping at their ankles or giving a short, sharp bark at any people in their way. They, too, seemed intent on me, focusing dark, shining eyes in my direction, bearing vicious teeth.
On my shoulder, the caracal gave a strained, curious sound. I backed away from the dogs, careful not to move too suddenly, as I raced through the options in my mind. My khopeshes were stored in one of the crates with my other belongings. I hadn't claimed one of the soldier's spears like Rayyan—I hadn't expected to need it. Human attackers could be dissuaded with a few quick strikes and a throw sending them into the water. Hungry beasts, however, were another matter.
Hungry? Don't be stupid. They're not here for food. They're here for you.
Dark harbingers.
The alpha stopped right before Rayyan, baring its teeth, hackles raised. Rayyan lunged, thrusting with his spear, but the dog ducked to one side and caught the shaft in its jaws. Two of the others bounded forward, flanking Rayyan and lunging for the big muscles of his legs.
I didn't have time to think. I darted at the nearest of them, putting my fingers to my lips and letting out a high, sharp, whistle. Just as I hoped, all five turned their heads toward me, dark eyes glittering and pointed ears alert.
The alpha dog released its hold on Rayyan's spear and came at me instead. I sunk back into a fighting posture and raised my hands to strike—then, though, to my astonishment, the jackal relaxed, sitting back on its haunches.
Eye of...
I narrowed my eyes. The dog held my gaze, sitting still as a stone. The others—every one of them—locked on me as if scenting prey. But then each sat down, staring at me with the same eerie, waiting expression.
"Sadira?" Rayyan, still holding his spear up and pointed at the lead dog, shot me a cautious glance. "What did you do?"
I opened my mouth to say I didn't know, when one of the mob shouted. "See! She commands the black dogs! Sorceress!"
The man wound up and pitched his stone at me, striking me in the belly. I doubled over clutching my middle, and the caracal leapt down from my shoulder. Heedless of the jackals, it streaked at the rock thrower and bounded up onto his thigh. He screamed as it dug in with its wild claws and sunk its teeth into thick muscle.
He hardly had time to pry the feline from his leg, though: the alpha dog had spun around and barreled at him the moment I'd been hit, and it knocked him to the planks and pinned him down. Its lips curled back from its teeth and strings of saliva dripped onto the man's face.
The other dogs got back to their feet to join the attack, but I put a hand out and, on instinct, gave a second ear-splitting whistle.
To my amazement, the alpha backed down. It moved off the man, still rumbling with a wet, vicious snarl, and placed itself between him and me, shoulders lowered, ready to attack.
The caracal kitten had dropped from the man's thigh when the jackal knocked him down. It came bounding to me again and wound around my ankles.
"I don't understand." My gaze shifted from the jackals to Rayyan, down to the caracal, and to the swarm of people. My heart pounded in my chest and the day seemed to grow dim around me.
Alaric did this. The beasts outside the castle—the creatures he summoned to keep us trapped within the walls—
The dogs bristled and growled, hackles raised as more people shouted at me, jabbing accusatory fingers at me, throwing eggs and fruit. The lead dog had them frightened enough to stay at a distance, though, and their missiles fell short, splattering or bouncing off the dock several feet from me.
Bannon's voice boomed over the crowd.
"What in the name of Goddess Sherida are you people doing?"
The crowd parted, most of them turning to meet the towering Sanraethi captain. Others kept their eyes on the dogs and me, as though expecting an attack as soon as they looked away.
Oh, thanks be. I straightened, as did Rayyan, and gave Bannon our salute: right fist held over the heart. The jackals, however, hunched low to the docks, mad black eyes flashing wi
th warning.
Bannon stalked through the mob, eyeing them. Behind him came the two Sanraethi women, one of them still dripping and bedraggled from her unexpected swim.
"I don't suppose there's someone among you who wants to explain why you're attacking my soldiers?"
Bannon bent to peer at the man knocked on his back by the dog. "You, maybe?"
The man scowled and rolled onto his stomach to climb to his feet. As he did, Bannon planted his boot square between the man's shoulders and shoved him back down to the boards.
"I asked you a question."
"Are you blind?" The man tried to point toward me and the dogs, though his awkward, sprawled position made it difficult. "Alaric's witch called the black dogs to her side! In our city!"
Rayyan pointed at the man with his spear. "Captain, the dogs only appeared after these agitators started throwing rocks at us."
"Not at you," sneered a woman at the head of the mob. "At her. Alaric's pet!"
"My pet," Bannon corrected. He lifted his boot off the man's back, and the man scrambled back to his group.
"I know Olyb has kept itself more or less independent from the Cursed Sands and the rule of the Khan dynasty," Bannon said to the crowd. "But I'm sure you know enough about desert politics to know who I am, and how I staked my claim on Alaric Khan's defeated kingdom."
"By the right of victory," barked an older woman, slim and willowy but startlingly loud. She folded thin, bony arms over her chest. "And you took his consort by right of claiming. Everyone knows, Red Bear of the Highlands. What you don't understand is that we know how to deal with scorpions and snakes. You crush them under your heels before they get close enough to sting you!"
"She touched the fruits on my market wagon, and they spoiled before my eyes!" shouted a young man, waving a hand with a browned, foul-looking dragon fruit.
I brought a hand to my mouth. Speeding through the day's events in my mind, I remembered the young man. He'd manned an old produce cart with an elderly man dressed in the manner as he.
"But I didn't touch anything on his wagon. Not one thing!"
Had the fruit spoiled after mere proximity? No, the vendor must be lying. Looking for an excuse for bad wares.
"She spooked my chickens and my ducks!" another merchant claimed. "Two of my hens nearly pecked each other to death!"
"Pah," Bannon spat. "Your hens only scuffled, as animals do. Don't try and put the blame on my woman."
The crowd seethed, and more voices cried out over each other. Some shouted complaints of their own misfortunes, while others called Bannon an idiot and a whoremonger. When the willowy woman in the lead tried to step forward, though, raising an oozing, rotten tomato to cast at Bannon, the big, black alpha dog sprung forward at her with a loud barrage of barks.
Both Bannon and the woman staggered back, but Bannon recovered his balance. She, on the other hand, fell against the others in the crowd, knocking two others with her to the ground.
"Get out of here!" Bannon roared at them, cutting a hand through the air. "Take your poisonous accusations elsewhere and let my soldiers do their work. We're setting sail soon enough anyway."
With grumbling, nasty displeasure, they started to disperse as he'd commanded. As the first few dropped off from the edges of the mob and sulked away, some of those who'd been right at the front, storming down the dock and pelting their missiles, lingered and glowered. The woman who'd taken a tumble hawked and spit in Bannon's direction, before her colleagues helped her up and led her from the port.
Bannon waved them away, sneering. As they broke apart and wandered away, he approached me and Rayyan.
I raised my hands to stop him, shooting a pointed glance at the dogs still surrounding me. Bannon hesitated, but in the same instant, the pack all lowered their ears and gave a strange shudder, as though shaking water from their coats. Dark, canine eyes glanced back and forth, and one of them uttered a low huff.
The alpha male barked twice. The others trotted to him, moving past Bannon without so much as a sniff or a nip. Soon all of them had retreated to the shoreline and disappeared again in the dark space between two buildings.
Bannon watched them go, then checked me, searching me from head to foot.
"Are you hurt?"
"No, Sir." I assumed my submissive pose, and all at once remembered the caracal kitten at my feet. It wound between my ankles and mewed, shining green eyes gazing up at me.
Bannon rubbed his chin. "New friend?"
"I don't know." Crouching, I scooped the caracal into my arms. "It showed up while we were working. I thought it might be hungry."
"There are fishermen only a short way down the pier," Rayyan pointed out. "And no shortage of pests in the alleyways, I'm sure. The kitten—and the dogs—came to you, Sadira."
"Why?" I spun on Rayyan, a bolt of sharp guilt piercing my chest. "Why would they do that?"
"They looked ready to defend you to the death," Bannon said.
I rubbed at the back of my neck. "I know."
I didn't mention how the jackal's focused glares and strange, shining intelligence had reminded me of the wild beasts arranged outside Alaric's castle during the cursed siege. I brought my hand back down to scratch at the caracal's chin, and the cat reached up with both paws to seize my wrist and rub its silvery-gray face against my palm.
Bannon eyed the cat for a moment, stroking his beard. When he reached out to touch it, it shied from him, hissing, and climbed back onto my shoulder.
"Strange thing," he muttered, his tone unreadable. A flush of chagrin crept up my ears.
Bannon frowned, gazing from me to the pier where the angry protesters and then the animals had disappeared.
"You should get on board," he said. "I'm tired of Alaric's legacy following you even now. Once we're on our way at least we can leave it behind."
He might as well have slapped me. My mouth dropped open and I wanted to retort, but I schooled my reaction before Bannon turned back to me.
"Sir?" I asked. "Respectfully, I'd like to finish my task loading crates with Rayyan."
"One of the other soldiers will help him." Bannon glanced at Rayyan, who gave him a nod. "Onto the ship, Sadira."
I hung my head. With a heavy sigh, I gathered the caracal from my shoulder and set it down on the dock.
"On with you. There's fishermen all over who'll have something to share."
She offered a strange chirruping sound, something curious and bright. I gave her one last scratch of the ear before following Bannon to the gangplank, where Mara and Ailsa stood waiting. They both looked at Bannon with questions in their eyes.
"Go on ahead," he said to me, gesturing up the gangway. "I'll join you after I've explained what just happened, and Mara's given me a report of where we stand in terms of setting sail."
"Yes, Sir."
Before I stepped onto the gangplank, he reached out and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. When I met his gaze, he stepped closer, pulling me into an embrace.
"Kitten, walk with your head held high." He kissed my cheeks, then my lips. "You're not to blame."
His reassurance did little to cheer me up. I glanced back at Rayyan, now fitting the loading net over the next crate along with one of the other spear carriers. Being stripped of my duties thanks to a mob of people whom Alaric had wronged—Alaric, not me—brought a sour, aching pain to my gut.
I want Bannon's people to know I am not some spoiled pet, afraid to work and favored with special privilege. They thought I was Alaric's queen, some slavish, pampered bitch. I don't ever want to be called that again.
I met Bannon's eyes and straightened my shoulders, giving another obedient nod and bringing my fist over my heart in salute. He released me, and I climbed the gangplank without a word.
A bright, booming voice called out as soon as I ascended to the deck.
"Well, what've we here? Is it the famous desert witch everyone's been on about?"
My spine stiffened and I bristled, ready for another spat of cur
ses and accusation. At least since we're on the boat they won't throw rocks...
To my surprise, though, the stout man striding toward me across the deck regarded me with a cheerful, sparkling grin. A thick, blonde beard arranged in long braids poured down his front almost to his stomach, and one leg ended in a thick, ornately carved wooden stump. The smell of something spiced and robust emanated from him as he came right up to meet me, evidently unperturbed by my appearance.
"Welcome aboard the Drekakona!" He gave the same salute as Bannon's soldiers, and on reflex I returned it.
"Are you the captain?" I asked.
"Nay, the quartermaster. Call me Torv." Clapping a hand on my shoulder, he gestured over the broad deck before us. "Shall I show you the ship, then? She's a proud dhalut warship. She's been too long here in port, though, waiting on Bannon and the army to return. She needs to be out on the open sea again. Oh! The king's witch has brought her familiar, too!" "
I gave a start, shaken again by the word. I glanced back and forth, hoping nobody else heard him, and then noticed what Torv meant.
The caracal kitten had followed me up the gangplank and sat at my heel, twitching its short tail back and forth. Its green eyes locked on Torv, sharp and suspicious, its tufted ears alert.
"You again?" I crouched, curious, and the kitten promptly leapt onto my shoulder. It rubbed its cheek against mine, then shot another glare at the quartermaster. A flat, quiet growl rumbled in its throat.
A witch's familiar?
But then...who's the witch?
Chapter Five
An hour later, I sat on the floor in the quarters assigned to Bannon, arms propped up on the edge of the single, meager captain's bed. I stared at the caracal. It had tucked itself into a comfortable position on the quilts and returned my gaze with its misty green eyes, purring.
"Why are you following me about all of a sudden?"
The caracal—a female kitten, I'd determined—continued to stare back, offering a tiny, mysterious grin in response.
"Are you some kind of omen? A harbinger of bad luck?"
Beauty's Secret (Beast and Beauty Book 2) Page 4
