Pirate's Promise

by Chris A. Jackson

  "And the food's no worse than on a long sea voyage, though I do miss Soursop's cooking."

  "You sound like you're trying to talk yourself into enjoying this trip."

  "I'm trying to talk myself into not feeling like warmed-over camel dung."

  "Is it working?"

  "No." He sighed and rubbed his eyes with a shaky hand. "Gozreh's guts, Celeste. Maybe it would be easier if I just—"

  "No, Torius. It wouldn't be easier." She put as much sympathy as she could into her voice, but edged it with determination. "You're never going through this again. Not if I have to—"

  A low, guttural howl tore through the peaceful night.

  The caravan came to a sudden halt. They had heard plenty of jackals during the trip, but their mounts seemed to sense that this was different. Celeste felt it, too, a foul essence in the air, but she couldn't pinpoint its nature. She breathed deep, and flicked out her sensitive tongue. A heavy scent hung on the light breeze: musky and ...familiar. Her tail twitched.

  "Torius?"

  Blood-curdling laughter raked the air.

  "Wake Dukkol!" Torius smacked his camel on the rump with his quirt and urged it up beside the restive mules. "Grogul! Trouble!"

  "Where?"

  As if in answer, more high-pitched laughter sounded from a different direction. A camel bawled, and Celeste heard Grogul curse the beast. Stretching her tail into the back of the wagon, Celeste thumped the snoring dwarf, ignoring his irritated exclamation.

  "Can you see anything, Celeste?" Torius brandished his new scimitar, his eyes focused out into the night as his nervous camel trotted back and forth beside the mules.

  Celeste reared up on her coils to increase her vantage. The moon's light cast the landscape in silver and gray, and she could see quite well, but there was little to see. Here, a flicker of motion, low and quick. There, a shadow moved among the dark scrub and cacti.

  "Nothing distinct, but ..." She took another deep breath and flicked her tongue. A metallic tang in the dry desert air detonated a memory, a very bad memory. Visions flashed through her mind: chains and dark holes, leering hyena faces, a cold collar around her neck, pain ...The answer sprang to her lips. "Hyenafolk, Torius! They're—"

  Hideous laughter rose on the air, and a flight of arrows whistled out of the night.

  The two lead mules brayed in pain and terror, and the wagon lurched forward. Celeste coiled low to keep from falling off the seat. Dukkol had been climbing forward from the wagon's box, and she heard a crash and a curse as he fell back.

  If he broke my sextant, I'll—

  "Set the bloody brake!"

  "Brake?" Celeste grabbed up the reins with a flick of magic and hauled back, but she couldn't pull hard enough with the spell to slow the panicked animals. "What brake?"

  Her instruction in driving the team had consisted of lash to go, pull to stop, pull one side to turn. She had no idea where the brake was. In no time, the wagon was moving much faster than seemed prudent. Celeste glanced back and saw the rest of the caravan milling around behind them, trying to get their panicked camels under control as a pack of hyenas harried them, darting in to bite their long, thin legs. The pirates swung their cutlasses to no avail, being too high atop their camels to reach the beasts below. Grogul solved the problem by falling off his camel right on top of two hyenas, his axe severing one's spine with the impact. The last thing Celeste saw as the band of pirates dwindled in the distance were larger, upright hyena figures racing in to attack. Tall but hunched at the shoulders, with long furry arms and the thick-jawed heads of hyenas, hyenafolk were the scourge of the Katapeshi wilds. They were pack hunters, scavengers, and slavers, and took humanoids of all types to sell, keep for labor, or consume as food.

  "The bloody brake!" Dukkol tumbled forward over the driver's seat, crossbow in one hand. Unfortunately, his foot encountered one of Celeste's coils. As he fell, he managed to grab a little post that stuck up beside the seat, which not only kept him from being crushed under the wheels, but slowed the wagon's speed to merely reckless instead of suicidal.

  "Oh. That's the brake!"

  "Now, haul on those reins!"

  "I am, but ..." She couldn't pull hard enough with her magic. Realizing that they were already cut off from the others and getting farther away by the second, Celeste cast her transformation spell. As soon as her limbs sprouted, she grabbed a double handful of leather and pulled back as hard as she could. Okay, so hands are good for something!

  Slowly, the wagon ground to a halt.

  "Well, that worked." She tied off the reins and helped the dwarf up from his precarious position.

  "Uh, Miss Celeste, you're ...um ..." His wide eyes were fixed slightly lower than hers, and looked more panicked than a simple attack by hyenafolk would warrant.

  She looked down and realized why.

  "Oh, damn!" She had forgotten about clothes. But her real concern wasn't modesty. The moonlight on her alabaster skin made her stand out like a glowing white pillar in the darkness, a perfect target.

  She started to banish the spell, but deep growls followed by hysterical laughter interrupted her. Glowing eyes surrounded the wagon. Dukkol's eyes shifted away and narrowed. He fired his crossbow, and a yelp told her he'd hit something. Celeste cast searing spears of fire at an advancing figure, lighting the darkness with the spell's orange glow. The attacker fell with a startled whine, and the scent of burned fur filled the air.

  "Turn the wagon around, Dukkol! We need to get back to the others!"

  "Right!" He kicked the brake free and reached for the reins.

  Hyenafolk charged out of the darkness wielding blades, nets, and tangling bolos.

  Duenas! Celeste felt her heart leap into her throat. The Duenas, a pack of hyenafolk that hunted the Katapeshi plains and deserts for slaves, were the very reason she'd never seen the Observatory in the first place. Years ago, when Celeste first came to this region in search of a means to explore the cosmos, and before she knew all the dangers of slavers, or how valuable a lunar naga would be on the slave market, they had captured her. She'd killed more than a dozen before their nets dragged her down and they knocked her unconscious. She woke in chains, underground, away from the night sky and the stars. Celeste would have died in their clutches if a young and reckless pirate hadn't rescued her, and she wasn't about to become their captive again.

  As Dukkol lashed the reins and bellowed at the mules, one of their assailants reached for the forward traces, its slavering jaws snapping. Celeste sent an unerring flight of magical energy racing at it, blasting four neat holes in its torso. Blood wet the sand, and it fell with an astonished yip.

  The mules lurched forward, and Celeste sent more energy motes into the night, catching several attackers at once, more to keep them at bay than to kill. Scratching came from the roof of the wagon, and before Celeste could turn, clawed hands grasped her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides.

  Fetid breath warmed her neck as the creature growled, "You'll fetch a fine price on the block!"

  Celeste banished her transformation spell and writhed in the Duena's grasp, twisting around to bury her fangs in its neck. Flexing her powerful body, she lifted the thrashing creature completely off its feet and flung it off the wagon. She hissed, spitting venom and blood as she whirled back.

  "Keep 'em off the wagon!" Dukkol planted a foot in one hyenalike face while desperately lashing the reins. They were turned around and picking up speed, but the sight of the rest of the caravan brought Celeste's heart into her throat.

  Two camels were down, their riders stretched out on the sand. The rest of the pirates were on foot, arrayed in a rough circle to protect the remaining animals. Grogul fought one-handed, a broken spear jutting through his left shoulder, but a litter of corpses attested to his continued effectiveness. Torius stood with his blade in hand, his stance awkward, a wide, red stain marring his kaftan.

  Several Duenas advanced with nets held high as others attempted to herd the pirates together by
stabbing at them with spears. Then a new foe arrived. Obviously the pack leader, it rode an immense, leather-barded hyena with jaws wide enough to engulf a human's head. For Celeste, this was a welcome sight. She knew that the Duenas wouldn't relent as long as they had numerical superiority and a good chance of victory. But if their leader fell ...

  "Run him down!"

  Dukkol lashed the reins, and the barrel-like wheels threw rooster tails of sand as their speed increased. Celeste slithered atop the wagon and prepared her newest, and as yet untried, spell. She'd first seen it used by a wizard when they battled an efreeti in Sothis, and had been impressed by its effectiveness. When Stargazer arrived back in Katapesh, she had sought out a wizard to sell her the proper scroll. The spell was simple, really. Unlike her magical darts or transformations, this was a powerful force of nature.

  Focusing on the pack leader, Celeste let her magic flow. Lightning split the night in a blinding flash, arcing from Celeste to the monstrous hyena. The bolt struck the mount squarely upon its shoulder, blasting a huge hunk of burning armor and charred meat clear through the beast. It fell, throwing the howling pack leader to the ground.

  For a shocked instant, melee ceased, and all eyes turned toward the charging wagon. Then Torius's voice rose above the thunder-induced ringing in her ears.

  "Stargazers!"

  The pirates cheered a raucous cry, but the Duenas' leader was not dead. The creature rose from the carnage-littered sand, its armor and fur smoldering from the lighting that had killed its mount. Snarling laughter rose from its throat as it raised a huge hooked axe.

  "Hey! Dog breath!" Dukkol stood upon the jouncing wagon seat with the poise of someone accustomed to walking a fore-topsail yard in a gale, the reins in one hand, his crossbow in the other. He leveled the weapon and fired while steering the terrified mule team straight at his target. The bolt glanced off the pack leader's iron pauldron, but got its attention. Its eyes widened at the sight of the wagon bearing down.

  Celeste didn't give the beast the opportunity to show more than an instant of fear. She cast her lightning again, catching it squarely in the chest. Cooked meat sprayed the sand. The wagon churned over the charred corpse, but even as Dukkol hauled on the reins to stop the mules, Celeste sent another bolt of lightning into the retreating ranks of Duenas.

  As the echo of thunder faded, and the stench of burned fur wafted away on the desert wind, the cheers of the Stargazers rose up. Celeste slithered down and through the carnage to Torius. He lowered his scimitar, his shaky stance belying his triumphant grin.

  "Nice spell."

  "You're hurt!" She peered at the blood on his kaftan, looking for the wound. "Dukkol! Bring a potion!"

  "He's hurt?" Grogul sat down with a grunt, grimacing at the broken spear shaft that transfixed his shoulder.

  "Actually, Celeste, this isn't mine." Torius wiped his bloody sword on his already soiled kaftan and sheathed it. "You were right about this scimitar. It makes things bleed. A lot."

  "Oh! Well, then ..." She nodded toward Grogul when the dwarf arrived with a potion bottle in his hand.

  Dukkol handed the bottle to the bosun, then gripped the bloody head of the spear. "Ready, mate?"

  Grogul pulled the cork with his teeth and nodded, quaffing the potion as the dwarf wrenched the shaft free. He tossed the bottle aside and peered down at the closing hole in his shoulder. "Damn it! Another kaftan ruined!"

  "Try getting out of the way next time," Torius suggested. "See to the others, Dukkol. I think Lonnie's just tangled up in that net, but Tory took a spear in his leg when he went down."

  "Right!" The dwarf trotted off to see to the wounded.

  "Well, that livened up the evening." Celeste looked around at the litter of corpses before turning back to Torius. "You certainly know how to show a lady a good time on vacation."

  "Anything for you, my dear." Torius helped Grogul to his feet. Neither of them looked very steady.

  "At least we know what to name Snick's contraption now," Grogul grunted.

  "What's that?"

  The bosun pointed to the charred and mangled hyena parts caught between the staves of the wagon's wheels. "The Dog Roller."

  Chapter Six

  Disturbing Messages

  Vreva slipped from between the sheets and reached for her robe. Easing out of the bedroom, she cast a glance back at the sleeping form of Zarina Capoli and smiled. Who could have guessed that the cool-mannered inquisitor would be so hot-blooded when her passions were aroused? As she tiptoed into the front room, Saffron woke from his favorite spot on the arm of the divan. She got a lazy feeling of fullness from him. He'd obviously been nibbling the leftovers of their dinner.

  "You're going to get fat eating so much," she whispered.

  *And you're going to get killed seducing an inquisitor.*

  "I saw an opening and I took it." Secretly, Vreva wondered if higher forces might not be at work here. Vreva could imagine Calistria laughing in delight. What greater trick than a courtesan of Calistria seducing an inquisitor of Abadar?

  *She's hunting you, Vreva. You should be more careful.* He hopped down to rub against her leg, purring when she picked him up and nuzzled him.

  "I know who she's hunting, and I am being careful, my love. But I had to ..."

  *Oh, all right.* He bumped her chin with his forehead. *So, how are you going to go about this?*

  "She's ...very intense, and lonely. That's good. I can work on her emotions, be her best friend as well as her lover. She'll be head over heels for me by the time I'm done. The closer I get, the more I'll be above suspicion. I can get more information from her about anti-abolitionist activities than I can from any slaver in Okeno."

  *Speaking of head over heels, I think you broke the divan.*

  "Oh, hush!" Vreva lowered her familiar to the carpet. "I've got to send a message to Marshal Trellis. Go watch her while I cast a spell."

  *With an inquisitor sleeping in the next room? Are you crazy?*

  "Obviously, or I wouldn't be in this business. Go!"

  *All right.* He trotted to the bedroom door.

  Vreva moved to a shelf that held a row of decorative vases. Running her fingertip across the ornate molding, she found the right point and pressed it. A drawer slid out, and she removed a scroll. She kept several of these for emergencies. She glanced toward the bedroom. Should the inquisitor wake, Saffron would alert her before Zarina could even get out of bed. Still, it was risky, but she dared not wait any longer.

  Reclining on the divan, she unrolled the scroll and read the incantation, then tucked the blank parchment behind a cushion. "Marshal Helena Trellis," she whispered as she closed her eyes. Immediately, Vreva slipped into a dream that was not hers.

  "Marshal Trellis, I must report dire news. Fieson Templeton is dead. He was captured by Okeno slavers west of the Isle of Kortos. I don't know how, but they took him alive. The Pactmasters sent an inquisitor to interrogate him, and he—"

  Vreva stumbled over her words as a vision of the burning ship threatened to overwhelm her. Shoving all emotion aside, she continued.

  "He was executed yesterday."

  She gave Trellis a succinct report, including everything from her return to Okeno, to her seduction of Zarina Capoli. Lastly, she told Trellis of her urgent need for a new intermediary. Without someone to bring her supplies and take her reports, she was useless.

  Vreva opened her eyes, heavy with fatigue. She heaved herself up from the divan, went to the sideboard, and poured herself a measure of spiced rum. The sweet liquor soothed her nerves. Vreva considered the previous evening. Such a surprise ...After their first feverish lovemaking atop the divan, Vreva had plied Zarina with tidbits of their dinner, feeding her and encouraging her to wash down each bite with a sip of whiskey. The gracious attention put the inquisitor at ease, staving off a bout of conscience and a hasty departure. Eventually they had moved into the bedroom.

  With the trained memory of a spy, she recalled each kiss, each caress, and shivere
d in remembrance. The recollection brought her up short. Something had happened there that she hadn't expected. For a few moments, Vreva had lost herself in their lovemaking, forgotten who and what she was, and indulged herself in pure pleasure. She had truly paid homage to Calistria, body and soul.

  If Zarina conducts her investigations with the same intensity with which she makes love ...The thought brought a flood of conscience. This woman was the enemy. She had tortured Fieson, and sought to destroy the cause to which Vreva had devoted her life.

  What the hell are you doing, Vreva? Fieson's voice seemed to berate her from the grave.

  I'm doing my job! Vreva clamped down on her feelings. She had not seduced Zarina for her own gratification, and she would not begrudge herself a bit of pleasure in a life so bereft of it. Besides, she couldn't make herself hate the woman. Zarina didn't care for the institution of slavery, and didn't enjoy inflicting pain in her interrogations. She was simply following her faith, doing Abadar's work in upholding the laws of Katapesh. Vreva couldn't fault her for that.

  The courtesan finished her rum, and started back toward the bedroom. Saffron trotted out before she reached the doorway, and rubbed against her leg.

  *She never moved. How'd the message go?*

  "Fine. Now I just need to wait for my new intermediary to show up."

  *All right. See you in the morning.*

  "Rest well, my love." Vreva approached the bed as quiet as a ghost, but apparently not quietly enough. She froze as Zarina stirred and rolled over.

  "Couldn't you sleep?" The inquisitor's voice was thick, but fully awake.

  Panic surged through Vreva. Her chat with Saffron had been in their private language, so Zarina wouldn't have understood, but she hadn't kept her voice as low as she usually did when they were in public, and it would have sounded strange.

  Vreva shrugged out of her robe, letting the glow of faint moonlight bathe her body, her hand draped casually across the sculpted headboard. Watching Zarina's eyes to make sure her distraction had worked, she slid the hidden needle from its groove with her fingernail. Her secret sting, it was coated with toxin from sea urchin spines, and would kill in moments. Sliding into bed beside Zarina, she secreted the needle between her fingers, poised to plunge it into the woman's flesh should it be necessary. Killing Zarina was a last resort. Aside from the fact that she actually liked the woman, explaining a dead inquisitor would be difficult.