Lioness of Kell

by Paul E. Horsman

  At last, they came to the gates of Fastness. The guards saluted Darquine with smiles and pleasant greetings as the steamcart passed. Inside the walls, the streets of the upper town were as narrow as the alleys in Harbor, only cleaner. Most of the houses were bigger, decorated with potted plants in shades of pink and red. People went about dressed with far more dash and color than the lower-class folk below. Men and women both wore sashes and long cloaks, feathered headwear and thin, elegant swords.

  ‘They look like pirates,’ Basil said, looking around open-mouthed.

  Darquine slapped his knee. ‘I told you so. Most of them are pirates in one way or another.’

  ‘Where do they work?’ Jurgis asked.

  ‘Not around Malgarth, obviously. Their ships prey on the continental trade, snapping up coasters, smuggling, carrying everything but slaves. That’s where I would go if I were free.’ Darquine pulled Yarwan’s list from her pocket and glanced through it. Then she whistled. ‘We made a bigger haul than we thought with the Daisee,’ she said. Her eyes alert, she looked around. After a few minutes, she punched the driver’s shoulder. ‘Stop!’

  Leaning out, she cried over the noise of the steamcart, ‘Suijan!’ A tall man in cream and blue took off his hat when he saw her and hurried over.

  ‘Darquine! Thank you for taking care of that blighter Wanguy. Business will be much jollier with him behind bars.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Suijan. In going after my friends, he went too far.’

  The trader nodded. ‘Yes, of course. I heard young Yarwan is your new ship’s captain.’

  Darquine nodded. ‘I had a chance to engage him, and I grabbed it. He’s a great captain. By the way, are you interested in Mallan carpets?’

  The trader smiled. ‘Assuredly I am; they’re rare enough. Do you have any?’

  ‘Four of them, in prime condition. I immediately thought of you, as the Towne carpetry expert. Should you want them, send your man to the Daisee at noon tomorrow.’

  Suijan’s smile widened. ‘You give me first choice? You’re great, Darquine. I’ll send him over. Thanks!’

  They exchanged bows, and the rich merchant hurried away. En route to her home, she stopped the steamcart six times more, and every time she found someone interested in an item on Yarwan’s list. When they reached the Overhouse, and the cart stopped in front of a colonnaded mansion, she leaned back and sighed.

  ‘That should make us some money. Now there’s one batch left to dispose of. I’ll do that after dinner.’

  Basil had never before seen his friend in action, and he chuckled. ‘It’s a game, isn’t it?’

  ‘The best game in the world,’ she said.

  A servant came out to receive them. ‘Miss Darquine!’ he said, beaming from ear to ear. ‘I am so happy to see you. It’s been far too long, miss.’ He paid the driver, who tipped her hat and turned the big vehicle in a small circle before driving off.

  ‘Do come in, miss. Your father will be overjoyed to see you, Miss Darquine. And your friends, of course.’ The man lowered his voice. ‘He has missed you, miss.’

  CHAPTER 13 - PERILOUS BOOTY

  Darquine felt a surge of impatience. She strode through the rich corridor to the sitting room, leaving her friends to hurry after her. All around her the elegant furniture, the drapes and carpets that spoke of a life of ease, were unchanged, and she didn’t spare them a glance. Her attention focused on the thickset man, who as she entered turned his back to the windows and the view over the harbor below. He was tall for a Chorwaynie; dressed in a uniform like Yarwan’s, but lined with four rows of golden buttons, and epaulets as large as deck swabs. His heavy face was marked by his years at sea, and his thick, graying brows frowned at her.

  ‘What puny ship was that you came in?’ he barked. ‘A cutter isn’t much better than a dinghy.’

  ‘But this one is mine,’ Darquine said, falling back into their old routine of tit for tat. ‘I’m founding a company.’

  ‘Becoming a money-grubber, girl? Let me look at you.’ The Overcaptain put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length. ‘You’re thinner. What’s her name?’

  ‘The Daisee.’

  ‘That crook Felrich’s ship. We shan’t miss him. He is dead, I presume?’

  Darquine smiled. ‘You can thank the lioness here. She’s a great shot, and she popped him properly.’

  The Overcaptain nodded at Maud. ‘You do seem a no-nonsense type. There aren’t many of you warrior girls at sea. Must be a story behind it.’

  ‘There is,’ Maud said. ‘We’ll tell you when you two have finished your touching reunion.’

  ‘Ha!’ the Overcaptain bellowed. ‘Touching indeed.’ He turned to his daughter. ‘Did you have to beat up young Wanguy?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s an offensive little twit.’

  Her father laughed uproariously. ‘That he is. All right, I’ll settle his father. Hinguy’s getting too big anyhow, so a slap-down is overdue.’

  Darquine scowled at him. ‘Tell the blighter to keep his paws off Captain Yarwan’s family business, or I’ll go after him myself.’

  Her father’s face darkened. ‘You made that damned fag Yarwan your captain?’

  Darquine shrugged. ‘He’s an excellent officer and I don’t give a flip about his sex life. The crew likes him.’

  The Overcaptain gave a snort like a force ten gale. ‘What did you come for?’

  His habit of constantly changing the subject had made great men break down, but she was used to it. ‘Money. And more hands.’

  Her father’s eyes narrowed. ‘What kind of crew do you have?’

  ‘We’ve retained the Daisee’s Jentakans, but there are only twelve of them.’ She recounted their boarding the cutter and the wandin telling how his crew hanged their officers.

  This made her father laugh again. ‘Great man, that wandin. What’s their village?’

  ‘Maiwar. We’d like to go there and ask for volunteers. At the moment we can sail, but not fight, so we’d love a batch of gunners.’

  ‘Fine. Need a mate?’

  Darquine stared at her father. ‘If you’ve got a spare one, yes.’

  ‘Old Hamui, if you don’t mind a man with a wooden leg. Those tiny details aren’t important; he’s brilliant with small ships. I’ll send him over.’ Then he frowned at Jurgis. ‘I see your father is a braver man than I’d supposed, boy. Basil’s clandestine twin.’ He wagged a finger at the thief. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jurgis of Brisa.’

  ‘That’s a powerful handle, young man.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I’m not a warlock.’

  The Overcaptain harrumphed. ‘You don’t need magic to be powerful. Sit down, all.’

  He dropped his bulk into a large chair, and immediately the servant came with a tray full of drinks.

  Wallanck folded his hands over his stomach. ‘Let’s talk business. You said money; what for?’

  Darquine raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Do your ships run on seawater?’ She stretched her legs and crossed her arms. She knew her father liked his daughter being tough. ‘As long as you’re sitting on my portion of mother’s inheritance, I can’t fit the ship out. So I need money.’

  Her father’s face turned dark again. ‘Leave your late mother out of it.’

  ‘I am leaving her out of it,’ his daughter said. ‘But not her gold. It’s mine, and I’m no longer a minor.’

  ‘Hah, to me you’re still a babe. What will you do with your ship? Trade? Piracy? Carrying dullfruit?’

  ‘For the moment we four have other plans.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Darquine bent toward him. ‘Listen,’ she said and her father leaned forward. She lowered her voice. ‘I can’t tell you.’

  Her father veered up and shouted, ‘Why, you ...!’ He coughed. ‘Why not?’

  She smiled sweetly. ‘Because it’s a secret.’

  The Overcaptain narrowed his eyes. ‘My daughter has a secret. Humph, well, keep it; I�
�ve secrets of my own. How much?’

  ‘Five thousand giffons in cash.’

  ‘Five thousand gold pieces? Just like that? Going to build a floating palace, are you?’ He sighed. ‘I’ll have it delivered on board. Tomorrow. Now, we’ll dine.’

  Darquine smiled at him. ‘Good. I’m hungry.’

  Dinner was served on a large balcony overlooking the bay. Roast pig with a great many side dishes and accompanied by a local wine made a satisfying meal, and they ate in silence. Only the Overcaptain talked, speaking of past adventures and present problems, to which they listened with varying degrees of interest.

  When she had finished, Darquine leaned back in her chair. She watched her father, while he told of his colorful career—stories she’d heard so often they had made her scream and slam the door as a child. From the moment she could talk, her father and she had lived in a state of war. With her mother still alive and him a captain, life was peaceful till the day he returned from his voyage. Then the quarreling started even before he’d said hello to his wife. Later, when her mother died, and he stayed home to become a merchant, the wrangling intensified. Nor did it stop when the high merchantry made him Overcaptain and ruler over the whole archipelago. By that time, though, she was the one spending long periods away from Towne, working her way up from journeywoman to mistress merchant. After breezing through her exams, she had left to stay with Basil for a year. She needed to distance herself from Towne and everything it meant. Funny, with the comfortable weight of the master’s license in her pocket, something had changed between them. Her father’s stories and his overbearing manner didn’t irritate her anymore.

  ‘Is old Lahyong still in business?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ her father said, scowling at her interrupting his tale. ‘He won’t stop trading as long as there’s breath in the old carcass. And he’s getting richer with every day he lives. Why?’

  ‘I’ll go and see him.’ Darquine rose. ‘He always liked my visiting him at this time. No, you all stay and finish your meal. Lahyong is an old man; he doesn’t want a crowd in his room. I won’t be long.’

  She went out and once on the street, walked briskly away.

  Like the house, the town hadn’t changed in the twelve months she’d been away. The tall, narrow dwellings with their whitewashed facades and green woodwork, the brown cobblestones, the pink-blossoming galaw trees, all were as smugly dull as ever.

  Descending a flight of steps, she arrived at a small redstone building; the only house in Fastness that wasn’t white. She used the brass knocker and waited.

  Darquine had known Lahyong since she was old enough to speak his name. He and her father had had many dealings in those days, and the old trader had been Wallanck’s staunchest supporter for the Overcaptaincy. Before she left for Winsproke, Darquine visited him often. In the beginning, she loved to listen to his stories of the world, and when she grew older, the two of them had long discussions about politics and trade. Lahyong knew a great deal of both, being the richest and the most powerful man in Towne.

  They’re getting old, she thought. The waiting gets longer every time.

  Finally, an ancient female answered the door. ‘Miss Darquine! The master said you were back, but we didn’t expect to see you so soon. He’ll be tickled.’

  The maid led her to a dim back room filled with a decades-spanning collection of curiosities centered on an even more ancient gentleman. As they entered, he looked up, and a smile appeared between the wrinkles in his face.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said, moving his glasses from his nose to the thin hairs on his head. ‘It’s our youngest mistress merchant. Darquine, my dear, how are you?’

  ‘I’m well, Lahyong, I hope you can say the same?’

  ‘Ah, the gods don’t want me yet. So yes, all is well. Sit, girl, and tell me of your life.’

  Darquine took a chair and spoke of Winsproke, the capturing of the Daisee, and the little fight with Wanguy.

  ‘I heard about that one.’ The trader chuckled. ‘His old man was livid, seeing his catch slip through his fingers when he thought it secure.’

  ‘He’ll be even more livid when my father is done with him,’ Darquine said.

  Lahyong nodded. ‘It’s like that, is it? Tell your father I’ll add some stones to sink the Uys’ business. The gods know they’ve irritated me long enough.’ He peered at the girl. ‘Have you got anything interesting to sell already?’

  Darquine lowered her voice. ‘Our captain described them as: “Masks, four, made of unknown material. Inlaid with gold and gems. Quite ferocious looking, with tufts of hair all over.”’ She grinned. ‘They won’t be the masks, I suppose. Not in the late Captain Felrich’s cargo hold.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ the old trader said with a face expressionless as a turtle’s head. ‘Though they do sound intriguing. Were they very old?’

  ‘The crate’s lock had almost rusted shut, our captain said. Are you interested?’

  ‘I am,’ Lahyong said. ‘I’ll send someone to your ship at noon, to haggle about the price. As you’re just starting out, you want cash, I suppose? Fine. Then we’ll have tea now.’

  An hour later she took her leave from the old trader. A sudden thunderstorm erased the starry night sky and the rain drove the last pedestrians inside. Darquine sighed and climbed the stone stairs, now a cascading waterfall.

  After a while, she thought she heard footsteps behind her, walking when she walked, and stopping when she did, like an echo. A thundering crash drowned all other noises, and when it had died away, a voice behind her said, ‘Mistress.’

  She turned to see a shadowy figure in a cloak, sword in hand. ‘Hinguy wants you gone, mistress,’ a woman’s voice said. ‘So this is it.’ Then the assassin attacked.

  In silence, they fought. Darquine was a competent fighter. Not a master, but she knew her way with the rapier. Her opponent however was a master and with her heavier sword, she pushed Darquine step by step back toward a dark side street. After a heavy meal, followed by Lahyong’s tea and cakes, Darquine wasn’t as fast as usual. Her arm began to ache and her desperation grew. To be killed here, so ignominiously, never! ‘Help!’ she shouted. ‘To me!’

  But no one answered.

  A swift flurry of attacks pushed her ever further toward the dark alley. ‘Help!’ she cried again.

  ‘No use,’ said the assassin. ‘Nobody will hear you.’

  Darquine growled.

  ‘There!’ It sounded like a child’s voice, high and nervous.

  For a moment, Darquine thought she’d imagined it, but then she heard running feet above the sound of the rain.

  ‘Drop your sword!’ a deep voice commanded.

  The assassin cursed and delivered a final cut, her blade biting deep into Darquine’s sword arm.

  Darquine dropped her rapier as a searing pain lanced through her body, and sank to her knees. In the far distance she heard a bang. ‘They’re firing at us,’ she mumbled, believing she was back with the boarding party. ‘Boat making water.’ But it was a pool of rain, mingled with her blood. Then, strong hands were ripping open her shirt, exposing the gaping wound in her arm. ‘Hey!’ she protested, and the lights went out.

  ‘Damnation,’ Maud said, as she tore the shirt into strips. ‘I knew she shouldn’t have gone out alone. Crooks like that Hinguy don’t like being humiliated. Go and search the assassin.’ Jurgis hurried to the hooded figure, lying face-down in the pouring rain.

  ‘Stop blubbering, child,’ the lioness said to the kitchen boy who had guided them here. ‘Put your fist on this wad. Don’t let it move.’

  The child laid his hand on the prop of linen and the bleeding stopped. When Maud had tied enough strips together, she bound them around Darquine’s arm. ‘You can let go now,’ she said. Reluctantly, the boy removed his hand.

  Jurgis returned. ‘She carried nothing.’

  Maud scooped the unconscious Darquine up from the ground. ‘You bring the assassin.’

  Without a word, the
thief went to pick up the dead woman. She was light, wiry more than muscled and no heavy weight.

  ‘Pick up the assassin’s sword, mate,’ he said to the kitchen boy. Big-eyed, the boy obeyed, and they hurried back through the wet streets to the Overcaptain’s mansion.

  The local healer, dragged from his house half-dressed by Wallanck’s frantic servants, had examined and cleaned the wound. ‘Nasty, very nasty,’ he muttered. ‘Tendons cut; that’s always bad. No great bleeding is a blessing. But ...’

  ‘But what?’ the Overcaptain said, his voice filled with anguish.

  The healer looked up. ‘The wound will heal, but she’ll never properly use her right arm again.’

  ‘What?’ Wallanck swayed. ‘She’s only eighteen!’

  ‘The sword cut through the tendons; it’s thanks to the quick and proper action of the lioness that I’m not now amputating. How much she’ll be able to do with the limb remains to be seen. She will find it a long and painful process.’ He coughed and looked at all the faces in the room. ‘For now, the girl needs rest; she lost a great deal of strength.’

  ‘I will help her recover,’ Basil said. He was pale and his eyes glittered. ‘Tonight, I shall restore her energy and make the healing go faster.’

  The doctor glanced at him. ‘You know how?’

  ‘I’m the Spellwarden. I’ve been trained in energy transfer.’

  A fleeting look of distaste crossed the doctor’s face. ‘Yes, of course. Don’t overdo it, please. And mind the side effects.’

  ‘She is my friend,’ Basil said. ‘I will be very, very careful.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘She’s a girl. Those effects won’t disturb me a great deal.’

  The doctor’s glance was noncommittal. ‘Is that so? Well, I’ll be back tomorrow.’ With a nod, he left the room.

  ‘Hinguy sealed his fate with this,’ the Overcaptain said, staring down at his unconscious daughter. ‘I’ll convene the high merchantry and we will hang him. I’ll have his possessions confiscated. Dividing his riches among the high merchants will bring me enough votes. Young Wanguy will be a harbor sweep when I’m finished.’ He turned to Maud. ‘You were right; she was in danger. I’ve known Hinguy for forty years or more, and still I underrated his need for revenge. Thank you, Lioness, for saving her life.’