Pirate's Promise

by Chris A. Jackson

  "We were not." Torius turned to the Zephyr Guard squad leader. "Please, ma'am, my name is Captain Torius Vin. I'm a guildsman in good standing, and these are my crew. Ruffians we are not! We were simply celebrating our arrival in port, and ended up defending ourselves from these creatures. This was not our fault, but since the guilty parties have fled, I'll be happy to pay for the damages."

  "I'm pressing charges!" The barkeep folded his arms over his skinny chest in defiance. "It'll take a month to put this place to rights, and I'll lose my lease if I can't bring in customers. My livelihood is ruined!"

  Torius refused to even look at the man for fear that he couldn't keep his hands from around his lying throat. "That's a complete fabrication. My crew can have this place spit and polish by tomorrow evening, and I'm willing to do so out of my own pocket. He's after more than his due."

  "And what about the rumors? My business will be ruined when the whole city finds out that there were murders here!"

  "Nobody's been murdered!" Torius rounded on the man, so furious at the accusations that his hand slipped unthinkingly to the hilt of his sword. "You're lying just to get more money out of me, and I won't stand here and—"

  "Enough!" The Zephyr Guard squad leader's shout rivaled Grogul's. Everyone fell silent. "Master Helwek, Captain Vin has offered to pay for damages and repair your establishment out of his own pocket. That sounds fair to me. Will you not have an end to this without bringing the guard into it?"

  "I'm pressing charges!" the bartender repeated, his face red. "Disorderly conduct, public drunkenness, destruction of property, and loss of livelihood due to wanton negligence."

  "Public drunkenness? Gozreh's guts, man, it's a tavern!"

  "Arrest this man! I insist!" He pointed a shaking finger at Torius.

  Torius seethed, but managed to compose his face before turning to the squad leader. "My people want no trouble with the Zephyr Guard, ma'am. We'll go quietly, but you better add one more charge to that list."

  The woman's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What charge might that be, Captain Vin?"

  "Assault."

  Now it was the bartender's turn to look confused. "But I wasn't—"

  Torius doubled up his fist and cut the bartender's protest short by laying him flat out on the floor. Turning back to the Zephyr Guard squad leader, he dusted off his hands and smiled. "Lead on to the gaol! I hope you've got room for all of us, because Stargazers stick together! Grogul, get Windy Kate and the others."

  Amid another round of cheers, the boisterous pirates hoisted their still-woozy mates onto their shoulders.

  The squad leader only shook her head and said, "This way, Captain."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Vreva paused for a moment at the second landing, just out of sight of the room below, and took a deep breath to still her pounding heart.

  *You ready for this? You seem nervous,* Saffron said from the crook of her arm, keeping his meows low.

  She looked into the bright yellow eyes of her friend and familiar and smiled. "You're such a worrier," she whispered back. "Of course I'm ready."

  She took another breath, and her body responded to the long-practiced technique, calming her singing nerves. Raising her head and moving with majestic grace, she continued down the sweeping marble stair that led to the opulent entry hall of the Inn of the Eighth Sin.

  A joyful shout brought all eyes to her, and impromptu applause rose from the crowd. Vreva beamed in the light of their adoration, sweeping an appreciative gaze across the crowd as if astounded that all this fuss was for her. At least fifty Okeno notables—some clients, some not—and a scattering of unknowns crowded the room. It was enough to turn any woman's head, if that woman wasn't more worried about her head ending up in a noose.

  "Quopek, you sly dear." At the bottom of the stairs, Vreva playfully slapped the innkeeper's shoulder. "A surprise welcome-home party for me? How sweet of you!"

  "Nothing but the best for Okeno's foremost courtesan!" The fat man quivered with excitement. Of course he was happy to see her; he earned ten percent of her profits, and her long absence had undoubtedly cut into his cash flow.

  Vreva curtsied with consummate grace and waded into the throng, accepting kisses from those she knew, and proffering her hand to those she did not. Everyone jostled to catch her eye. Her reputation, it seemed, had grown during her sabbatical.

  "Absence apparently does make hearts grow fonder," Vreva whispered so quietly that only Saffron could have heard her. None could understand their secret language, but talking to a cat could draw attention. They'd long practiced the art of conversing covertly, even in crowds, her whispers seeming nothing more than an owner's senseless endearments to a beloved pet.

  A callused hand caressed the curve of her buttocks, and she barely suppressed the urge to slap it away.

  *Absence evidently makes the heart grow randy, too.* Saffron's hiss at the slaver captain needed no interpreter.

  "Oh, be civil, Saffron!" Vreva chided. She kissed her familiar on the head, then whispered, "You forget yourself! Now scout the room and report back!" Dropping the cat to the floor, she turned to her groper with a smile. "My apologies, Captain. We've been aboard ship for the better part of a week, and my poor kitty is in a snit."

  "No offense taken, Mistress Jhafae," the slaver gushed, giddy with her attention. "We've got cats aboard Hell's Razor, you know. Keeps the rats from chewing up the merchandise!"

  Vreva laughed at the supposed witticism, bestowed a smile and subtle caress sufficient to leave him dazzled and momentarily speechless, and continued circulating through the crowd.

  "You look gorgeous, my dear. Absolutely gorgeous!"

  "Where have you been? It seems like you've been gone for ages!"

  "Mistress Jhafae, you simply must put me at the top of your calendar. Even my wife has complained about how edgy I've been, and only you ..."

  Compliments, promises, pleas, and questions battered her like waves against a rocky shore, but Vreva responded with the glib dissemblance she had perfected long ago. The physical contact, however, set her teeth on edge. A hand on her arm or a kiss on the cheek roiled her stomach, while the more intimate caresses forced her to suppress violent reprisals. Weeks among pleasanter company had dulled her ability to block the revulsion she felt for these people.

  I never thought I'd miss Torius and his boatload of pirates so much!

  Vreva caught an empathic flush of urgency, then a flash of delight, and the flavor of seasoned meat flooded her mouth. Someone had dropped a tidbit, and Saffron had pounced. Quashing the sensation with a sip of wine, she broadcasted a thought of stern disapproval.

  You have a job to do. Do it! He couldn't actually hear her thoughts, but would get the gist.

  "I hope you are quite finished traipsing all around the Inner Sea, Mistress Jhafae."

  Vreva recognized the voice and turned to the rotund slave merchant behind her.

  "It was just a little holiday, Master Werreg." She accepted his kiss of greeting and did not flinch as his pudgy fingers caressed her hip. Werreg might be a fat lecher, but he was also an important member of the local merchants' council, and a font of information.

  "I heard that you were spirited away by the Ruby Prince himself!" Looking pleased by his attempt at flattery, Werreg gave her an ingratiating smile. "I was worried that you'd succumbed to his charms and gone away for good!"

  "How could I ever leave my dear friends here?" Vreva caressed his sweaty cheek, tracing the nerve along his jaw. "It was not the Ruby Prince whose company I kept. Just a ...special friend who asked a favor." That was true enough. Torius was a friend, or as close to one as she had. And Quetaal, the commander of the Sothis Guard, with whom she'd kept company there, had been like a breath of fresh air compared to these sniveling traders in human flesh.

  "A toast to your favors." Werreg raised his glass, leering openly at her. "May they never run short of supply!"

  Laughing, Vreva lifted her own glass in acknowledgment, but as her lips t
ouched the rim, panic surged through her. Then a jolt of pain between her shoulders snapped her head back.

  Saffron! The glass trembled in her grasp, and her vision glazed over as she concentrated on Saffron's mental cries. Rage, panic, fear ...trapped!

  "Are you all right, Vreva?" Werreg's voice snapped her attention back to a circle of concerned guests.

  "Yes, I ...I'm fine. Just a moment's fatigue." Sipping her wine, she attempted to quell the emotional onslaught from her familiar before it overwhelmed her. Considering her arsenal of spells, she silently cursed. Her magic was subtle, tailored to the boudoir, not the battlefield, and certainly not a room full of people. She had to disengage herself from this crowd and find Saffron. Vreva handed off her glass and made her excuses. "I've yet to recover from my voyage. The wine, I'm afraid, is going to my—"

  "Is this yours?"

  Vreva turned to the unknown man. He wore a snug headscarf in the Keleshite manner, and his beard was trimmed to a neat point. His clothes were rich, and the long whip at one hip and the scimitar at the other gave him a rakish appearance. She might have thought him handsome, except that he dangled Saffron by the scruff in one large, callused hand. The sight sent a surge of ice water through her veins.

  "I caught it running loose." He held the cat out, sneering as if he'd just as soon wring the feline's neck.

  "Saffron!" The familiar's relief echoed her own as she took the panicked cat in her arms. The ice water turned to fury, and Vreva glared at the man. "I don't know you, sir, but molesting my pet is not a means to garner my favor."

  *He smells like blood!* Saffron spat and hissed, mewing dangerously. *His boots and that snake at his belt stink of it! I only sniffed, and he grabbed me!*

  "My pardon, Mistress Jhafae." The man nodded and touched his forehead with a flourish. "I am Captain Heclech, master of Sovereign Chain out of Katheer. You must forgive my reaction, but where I'm from, animals belong in cages or on plates, not running free to soil a man's boots."

  "My pardon, Captain Heclech, but I must not forgive you." Vreva was dismayed at the harsh words and acerbic tone that tumbled from her lips, attributing them to the waves of rage from Saffron that surged through her mind. "This is not your home, but mine, and in my home, my pet is afforded the same regard as any guest."

  *‘Pet' my pink, puckered ass!* Saffron hissed.

  "Shhh." She stroked his chin to ease his temper.

  "Your home?" Heclech looked around the inn's opulent hall. "I was under the impression that this was Master Quopek's establishment. He keeps many men and women of your sort, does he not?"

  "Master Quopek does not keep me, Captain. I come and go as I please." She tried to keep her tone civil, but could not disguise her dislike for the man.

  "A fact that has left us all pining for the last many weeks, Captain," Werreg interjected from beside her.

  "Yes." Heclech's eyes flicked to the merchant with a sneer of distaste. "This is why I came here, to see this woman who commands such obedience from men."

  "I do not command anything, Captain Heclech." Vreva regained her composure and gave him a sultry smile. "They offer their respects willingly."

  "Along with a good bit of gold." Werreg laughed, obviously trying to diffuse the situation. "I daresay we're all a bit richer for her recent absence, but I for one intend to pay my respects to her as soon as she'll have me."

  "Where I'm from, women of her ilk do not have the respect of men." Heclech turned his eyes to Werreg and grinned a challenge. "And men who curry the favor of such women are little better than dogs."

  Werreg paled, his blubbery chins quivering with rage, but he obviously knew better than to take up the man's challenge.

  "And in this city, Captain, it's considered rude to insult a lady." The voice over Vreva's shoulder was low with a slight rasp, like well-oiled steel sliding across a fine whetstone.

  She recognized the speaker even before Saffron said, *The wine man's behind you.*

  Vreva felt a hand settle onto the small of her back and urge her aside. She didn't know whether to be relieved or agitated.

  "And this particular lady has friends in very high places." Her champion stepped forward. His dark hair, pale complexion, and richly brocaded clothing marked him as Chelish, while the hand on the gleaming rapier at his hip marked him as a swordsman. Vreva knew that he was neither, but something else entirely.

  "If you wish to do business in Okeno, Captain Heclech, and not be shunned like a plague-carrying rodent, you should apologize, and reconsider your opinion of Mistress Jhafae."

  "And you are?" Heclech's hand drifted to the scimitar at his waist.

  "Captain Fieson Templeton of Devil's Dawn." He made a short, courtly bow, and nodded to Vreva. "Chelish merchant and close personal friend of the lady."

  "And by whose authority do you threaten me?"

  "Threaten?" Fieson laughed, but his mirth didn't reach his eyes, and his gaze never left Heclech. "Oh, that was no threat, Captain, just a bit of advice. If you treat the lady with contempt, her friends will see to it that you do no business here. It's that simple." He shrugged. "Insult her again and I will personally feed you your own testicles. Now that," he added in a helpful tone, "was a threat."

  "Gentlemen, please, you mustn't—"

  "She's nothing but a high-priced prostitute!" Heclech stepped aggressively forward, and Vreva eased back a step, realizing the futility of attempting to placate the two men. "And you pay for her favors because you could never earn the attention of—"

  The sounds of tearing silk and a wet plop on the marble floor interrupted his tirade.

  Heclech's eyes flung wide, his voice caught in a strangled cry. Fieson stepped back as the larger man collapsed to his knees, hands clutching at the flood of crimson down his legs. The crowd gasped, and Vreva turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth in feigned shock. She knew Fieson did not threaten idly and, while he might not be skilled with a sword, he was entirely apt with the stiletto he wore strapped to his forearm beneath his sleeve. His cut had both gelded the man and severed one of the large arteries in his leg.

  *Good!* Saffron purred as the man fell into the spreading crimson pool. *Now he smells like his own blood!*

  "Captain Templeton! What is the meaning of—" Quopek stepped through the onlookers and gaped. "Abadar's key, man, what have you done?"

  "The man insulted our guest of honor." Fieson casually cleaned and sheathed his blade. "After I warned him about his conduct, he insulted me with his hand on his sword. With Mistress Jhafae so near, I had no choice but to carry through with my warning. For her safety, of course." He bowed to Vreva, then the innkeeper. "My apologies to Mistress Jhafae, and to you, Master Quopek, for the mess. I'll be more than happy to pay for the cleanup."

  "Well!" Quopek assessed the dead man, the stained marble floor, and the crowd. "I really should call the city guard about—"

  "Please, Master Quopek." Vreva stepped forward, fanning herself with her hand as if she might faint. The blood affected her not one bit, but she had a façade to maintain, and needed to avoid calling official attention to the incident. "Captain Templeton was only defending my honor. I've never seen this man before, and I wonder at his motives for coming here. He picked the fight, sir, and he picked it with the wrong man."

  A buzz of confirmatory assertions swept through the crowd, lauding Captain Templeton. In the end, Quopek merely called for a flock of slaves to clean up the mess, and shifted the reception to the common room. Vreva sighed with relief as she allowed Templeton to escort her to the new venue. Envious glances followed them as the captain leaned in close.

  "I have a present for you, Vreva."

  She beamed up at him. "How sweet of you, Captain. And in gratitude for your gallant defense of my honor, you shall have my first appointment. Is tomorrow afternoon good for you?"

  "I am at your disposal, my lady," he said with a satisfied smile.

  Chapter Two

  Lessons in Freedom

  They're coming out,
Miss Celeste," Windy Kate called from atop the carriage.

  "Thank you, Windy."

  Celeste parted the drapes with a flick of magic and peered out into the blazing morning sun. Torius and the Stargazers strode down the Council Hall steps, escorted by a half-dozen Zephyr Guard, looking surprisingly cheerful for having spent a night in the gaol. Celeste narrowed her eyes. Her own mood fluctuated between anger and worry. Snick had brought Windy Kate to the cabin late last night with a report of the disastrous evening. Celeste had wanted to travel to the gaol immediately, until assured by Windy Kate that Stargazer's rowdy crew would spend at least one night in the lockup.

  Celeste cast her transformation spell, and felt her tail split into legs, arms separating out from her torso. She would have preferred to use a simple illusion, but feared a Zephyr Guard might greet her with a handshake or, stars forbid, step on her tail. Adjusting the dress she had worn draped over her sinuous body, she made sure her cloak was fastened properly, and stepped from the stifling carriage into the desert sun. As a lunar naga, she reveled in furnace-like temperatures. In human form, it was oppressive, especially since she had to wear clothing.

  As the sailors approached, Torius glanced at his looming bosun. "Grogul, see that everyone gets back to the ship. No detours."

  "Aye, Captain." The half-orc passed the carriage with a respectful nod. "Miss Celeste."

  "It's good to see you in one piece, Grogul, though ..." Her tone hardened as she glanced pointedly at Torius's bandaged hand. "...I see that not everyone managed to remain so."

  Torius held his hands wide. "It's just a little bite." Turning to the officer beside him, he smiled and bowed. "Thank you for the hospitality, sir."

  The man nodded. "We appreciate noncombative prisoners, Captain. Just make sure you're back here before sundown."

  Torius smiled to forestall Celeste's raised eyebrows, and extended a hand to help her into the carriage. "The Immaculate Repository, driver."