He looked politely baffled. “I can’t think what you mean, Lady Darren. Oh. I beg your pardon, I should be saying ‘Your Majesty.’ You’re a queen these days, I hear.”
Slimy bastard. “If you know my name, you should also know that I don’t like men who try to play games with me. If you want to talk, talk straight. Otherwise, get the hell off my ship, and later on, we’ll meet in a less friendly setting.”
He smiled wide, as if he were immensely pleased. “You can end this parley any moment you choose, my lady. But of course, we both realize that you would regret that decision more than I would.”
It was tense, and growing tenser. With six of his crewmen towering around him, Timor looked calm and assured, utterly at his ease. I had attendants of my own—Regon stood at my right hand, Spinner at my left, and behind me loomed Latoya, her massive shadow leaving my whole body in the shade. Jess lurked amidships, her face grave and stony with concentration. But the person I chiefly needed was still nowhere to be seen. Where the buggering fuck was Lynn?
I desperately wanted to call a time out and go hunt for her. But I quashed the longing and pressed ahead. “Let’s make this simple. Someone, I don’t care who, hired you to hunt me down.”
“More or less,” Timor admitted, with another polite smile.
“Well, whoever it was, surely he gave you the catalogue.” Ever so slightly, I adjusted my weight in the throne, letting sunlight glint along my cutlass blade. “Mara of Namor, Gorax the Savage, the hillmen of the eastern islands, the Tawran Beast, Tyco Gorgionson, to name a few. All people who underestimated me. All dead, or wishing very fervently that they were. Do you want to be added to that list?”
“Your concern for my safety is very touching,” Timor said. “But I don’t think you have much to worry about.”
“I’m offering to make this easy. Five hundred crowns—”
He gave a startled laugh.
“Five hundred crowns, if you walk away,” I finished. “Not what your employer is offering you, I’m sure—”
“Nowhere close,” he said, amused. “I don’t think that you know what you’re worth on the open market, my lady. Even if your ship’s hold was stuffed full of ivory and spices, you’d still be the most valuable thing aboard.” He rose. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation, my lady, and I’ll enjoy meeting you again later, I’m sure.”
He turned to go, and his sailors turned with him. Spinner gave me a frantic, desperate look, and I stared stonily back until he got the message. Scoffing at an offer, feigning disinterest, is what bargaining is all about. Timor’s amusement at the bribe could easily be an act, put on to drag a higher price from me. It’s what I would have done in the same situation.
I waited until Timor had his hands on the rail, ready to pull himself over, and then I commented, “I might go as high as six hundred.”
Timor looked over his shoulder; his grin was cheery. “You really don’t understand how much I stand to earn here, do you?”
I gnawed the inside of my own cheek. Maybe I really didn’t.
“WATCH YOURSELF, GIRL!”
Something had bumped against Timor just as he was about to swing onto the rope ladder. He caught himself before he fell, looked around wildly, and grabbed the culprit.
I rose halfway out of my throne. Timor was clutching Lynn’s upper arm, so hard that she almost dropped the wine jug she was carrying. But that wasn’t why my eyes were bugging out. Lynn had gone below to change her clothes. That was what Spinner had said, and that was true. She was now dressed—if you could call it that—in a piece of white linen barely bigger than a handkerchief. It was caught at her shoulders with two brass buttons, and belted with a girdle of white rope. A coppery pattern was stitched along the bottom hem, and a thin copper bracelet encircled each of her wrists.
That was all. But that was enough. The linen was thin as a sigh, almost sheer. The merest breath of wind set it floating. It whispered. It clung. It did other things which made it hard for me to breathe. Timor stared, and he just kept staring.
“Watch yourself,” he repeated, more gently this time.
“Forgive me, lord,” Lynn answered. “Will you take a cup of wine before you go?”
He hesitated no more than a second, and then he followed her. A part of me couldn’t blame him. But that part of me was overpowered by the much greater part of me which now wanted to pound him into the deck until nothing was left but stains and bloody rags.
Lynn poured, deftly and silently, and handed Timor his cup of wine. Her arms were bare, like most of the rest of her, exposing her tattoo, the storm-petrel. Timor’s eyes flicked to it, and for some reason, that made me seethe. I gripped the hilt of my cutlass so tightly that the ridges cut into my palm. It seemed a long time before Lynn was at my side, pouring my own drink.
“And what in hell do you think you’re doing?” I said through gritted teeth.
“Not now,” she whispered. “Trust me.”
She bowed her head, ceremoniously, as she passed the wine to me, and I gave a little ceremonial wave in reply, hoping that would end it. Maybe, I thought, she would head back to the cabin now and change her clothes again . . .
I should have known better. As soon as Lynn’s hands were free, she turned in Timor’s direction. Then, without the least trace of hesitation or shame, she knelt down at the foot of my throne.
It was pure shock, I think, that kept me from jumping up and yelping. That, and the fact that I was embroiled in a tremendously tense negotiation, and jumping up and yelping would have been about as appropriate as farting during an execution. But I had to fake a coughing fit to give myself a few spare seconds.
“I hope you’re not ill, Lady Darren,” Timor said, in his oily tone. “It can’t have been the drink. It’s very fine.”
This with his eyes fixed somewhere between Lynn’s collarbone and her belt. Every last drop of blood in my veins began to steam. I had to end this fast or I really would kill the man.
“Six hundred and fifty crowns,” I said flatly. “In milled coins, full weight. I won’t go higher. You can take it, or you can lose half your crew, and maybe your head, trying for more.”
I gestured with my right hand as I said this. It was supposed to be a punchy, aggressive type of thing, but my fingers brushed against something soft. Lynn’s hair. Had she put her head in the way? I was about to pull back my hand, embarrassed, but Timor’s sharp eyes were there, all over us. I let my hand rest where it was, cupping the top of Lynn’s blonde head.
“Six hundred and fifty,” Timor repeated.
“Six hundred and fifty that you don’t have to bleed for. Be sure to factor that part in.” I took a furious gulp of wine with my free hand. “Has anyone ever told you what I do to the men I defeat? Because it’s gripping. I intend to write a book.”
Lynn’s head dipped forwards, then tilted to the side. It made my hand slip down past her hair to her neck, as though I was—oh gods, it looked like I was stroking her. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Lynn let out a little sigh as she pressed back against my hand. Exactly like an adoring pet. Red-faced, smouldering, I swigged more wine.
“Six . . . hundred . . . and . . . fifty,” Timor said again, and it was clear that he was having trouble concentrating on the number. “It still seems a little inadequate, Lady Darren.”
That was it. I was tired of this stupid dance. I uncrossed my heels, ready to surge to my feet and throw the man headlong from my ship, parley be damned . . .
“Mistress,” Lynn said, her eyes still downcast. “May I speak?”
I hesitated for three full seconds. Her hand found its way back to my ankle and squeezed hard. Trust me.
“Very well, girl,” I said gruffly. Oh, but I would make her pay for this later.
Lynn raised her head and sat up on her heels, looking Timor full in the face. “I will be delivering the gold on behalf of my mistress, lord. If you feel that the payment isn’t enough, we can discuss it then.” She paused delicately. “In depth. And I’m sur
e I can find a way to make up the shortage.”
My heart clenched into a fist-sized ball of stone.
“Ahhhhh,” Timor said, leaning back. “Ah.”
His smile this time was less mocking, more knowing. I bit my lips to keep myself from lunging for his throat.
“I have to admit,” he said gravely, “this gets more tempting by the minute.”
No. No. Absolutely not. I rose, and Timor, startled, did likewise. Lynn stayed where she was, kneeling on the deck between us.
“You’re a little too hasty,” Timor warned me. “I haven’t agreed yet.”
And you won’t get a chance to agree, you slimy son of a so-and-so. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could go and exactly what he could do when he got there, but Lynn’s hand touched my ankle again. It was almost apologetic, this time. Trust me.
The air hung heavy around me, waiting.
“Seven hundred,” I whispered.
Timor nodded. “Done.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MY CREW WAS stone silent after Timor’s longboat pulled away. Lynn rose to her feet and headed below without looking at anybody. I licked my dry lips and headed after her.
When I reached our cabin, she had the sea chest open and was rooting around inside. Maybe she was looking for something. Maybe she just didn’t want to face me.
I bolted the door and rubbed my hands together. “All right. What’s the plan?”
She glanced back briefly over her shoulder and returned her attention to the contents of the chest. “I’m going to go over there with the money.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll come back.”
“And in between?” I prodded. “You had me worried for a second there—but you’re not planning to sleep with that bastard. I know you better than that.”
She turned around, slim and pale in her skimpy tunic and copper jewellery. “Do you?”
There was no answer to that, really. The silence in the cabin stretched and stretched.
“Why?” I managed to say at last. It came out a lot louder and harsher than I had intended. “Why would you do that? Do you think you’re some kind of whore? Do you think that I think of you that way?”
Lynn reflexively pulled off her bracelets, then pulled them back on. “I know damn well I’m not, and I know damn well you don’t.”
“Then why? Why did you even start with the sex-kitten act? I had things under control.”
“He was bored, and you were losing him,” Lynn said flatly. “That’s not control. We had to sweeten the deal.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to be the sweetener. Hell, we could have offered him Latoya!”
“Men don’t really go for Latoya.”
“Spinner, then!”
She stared, aghast. “You want Spinner to go through this?”
“Better him than you.”
“How the fuck is that better? Darren, if this has to happen, why shouldn’t it be me?”
“Because—” I began without thinking, then stopped myself.
“Because I’m yours,” Lynn said, finishing the thought. “But that’s not a good enough reason. Everyone on this ship is a person. Nobody deserves this.”
My brain was spinning with that familiar reckless heat. “So let me do it.”
Lynn sorted slowly through the contents of the sea-chest: linen shirts, kerchiefs, stockings. “You can’t, Darren. Timor doesn’t want you. And don’t get ruffled—that’s not your fault. I’m little and I look helpless and that’s what he’s interested in. It’s pretty obvious. You saw the way he was staring.”
To my horror, I realized that tears were pricking the corners of my eyes. “Lynn, you can’t possibly wantto do this.”
She slammed the lid of the chest shut. “Of course I don’t.”
“Then don’t. We’ll find another way. We’ll take our chances in a hack-and-slash. Anything’s better than delivering you to that bastard gift wrapped.”
“Anything’s better?” she repeated in disbelief. “How do you figure? Every time we attack a ship, I know that you could come back missing a couple of limbs. You think I like sending you out to collect another set of scars? How is this different?”
“Because it’s different. Getting wounded in battle is clean. It’s nothing like having to lie there and take—that.”
Lynn breathed out, carefully and evenly. “‘That’ has a name. It’s sex. It’s just sex. It’s a weapon, just like a cutlass or a knife. Don’t make too much of it.”
“Do not you fucking tell me that I am fucking making too much of it. It matters, all right. It fucking matters!”
Lynn rested her head on her forearms. “Nobles,” she muttered to herself, viciously. “My god, your priorities are twisted. Bloodlines. Descendants. Family purity. You sit up straight at the table and you observe codes of honour and you tremble at the thought of getting your hands dirty. Darren, this is how it worksin the real world. Those of us who don’t have pirate ships do what it takes to stay breathing. You think getting screwed by a bounty hunter is the worst thing that can happen to a person? You think I’ve never had to do something like this before?”
I gaped. “Oh, Lynn. Oh Lynn, I’m so sorry—”
She rubbed her eyes fiercely. “Stop. Just stop. I can’t stand it when you get maudlin on me. I’m trying to tell you—this is life. If you want to survive, you do what it takes. Timor may be creepy and unclean, but you know what? I’d sleep with him every day of the week—and twice on Tuesdays—if that’s what it took to keep you alive.”
I slammed my hand down on the bunk. “What if I told you I’d rather die?”
Lynn rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. “Number one, that would be dumb. Number two, you’re not the only one at stake. I’d fuck Timor to save Spinner’s life. Or Latoya’s, or Regon’s . . . Hell, it may not be customary to admit it, but I would fuck him to save my own.”
“Then fuck him to save your own life! Leave me out of it!”
We were facing each other now, our chests heaving. Then, with an effort I could almost see, Lynn gathered up her anger into a tight bundle and pushed it away.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m going to go fuck Timor to save my own life. Hope you find something to do with your evening.”
She brushed past me on her way to the steps. My anger had evaporated. I just felt cold.
But a thought was tugging at me. Nobles, Lynn had said, you nobles . . .
Lynn wasn’t a noble. Lynn never had been a noble. Jess had been right after all.
And maybe, I thought dimly as I headed after her, maybe that’s why we had such different reactions to this. Maybe she was too different from me, deep down where it counted, to understand where I was coming from.
NOTHING HAD BEEN done when we got to the deck. The longboat was still waiting in the hoists; the chest of gold hadn’t been loaded. Most of the sailors were gaping at me with the same fixed, unbelieving expressions.
“Well?” I growled. “What are you sons of bitches waiting for? A sign from heaven?”
They moved then, unwillingly, lowering the longboat to the water. Lynn kicked the rope ladder over the side of the Banshee and climbed down, hand over hand. I stood staring at her as she took up the oars.
Regon looked from her to me, his mouth round with shock. “Captain.”
If he hadn’t spoken up, I’m ashamed to say, I would have let Lynn board the Hind alone. But Regon’s words brought me partway back to my senses. “Latoya, go with her,” I said, talking loud so my voice wouldn’t crack. “Spinner, you too.”
They nearly flung themselves over the side. Lynn didn’t seem happy to see them. She let Latoya take the oars, then clambered forwards into the bow. Drawing her knees up, she hugged her legs with her bare arms.
Latoya rowed, step by steady stroke. Spinner’s hand rested protectively on top of the chest of gold. The longboat cut a clean furrow in the water.
IT WAS QUIET as death over there.
Th
e crew had wisely allowed me my space. I stood alone at the gunwales, shaving off slivers of wood with the edge of my dagger. I would have skewered any sailor who defaced the ship in this way, but it was my damn boat and I was angry and if anyone had a problem then I would cheerfully toss him overboard. Me am boss.
I felt a presence behind me, a sort of shadow, before Jess joined me at the rail. “Aren’t you cold?”
I grunted, not interested in pleasantries. She was right, though. There was a chill breeze now that the sun was down.
Shell Game Page 17
