Georgio fell back down, huffing for breath.
“Why did he run?” he said, helping up Nikkel.
The young black man shrugged and smiled.
“Don’t know, but I’m glad he did.”
“You hurting him be the cause, I’d say,” Billip said. He sat on the ground with Brak’s head in his lap. “Ogres are cowards like that, but we’re fortunate to live. Well, the three of us are, that is. Brak lives, but his back is broken.”
Venir arrived on the gory scene hours later. His blood was rushing. Dead orc bodies soaked the ground with blood. His friends were crafting a stretcher. Brak lay on the ground, unmoving. His heart stopped in his chest. He rushed over.
“What happened? Who did this?”
Billip glared at him.
“You left us. An ogre ambushed us. That’s what happened.”
“I can track him.”
“And abandon us again, along with your injured son? Why don’t you just kill us, already.”
Stone-faced, Venir kneeled by his son. “Be still,” he said, placing Helm on Brak’s head.
Help him, he urged.
All the men kneeled around the fallen warrior.
Several minutes passed before Venir removed Helm from his son’s head and shook his own. Looking into Brak’s horrified eyes, he could barely form words.
“I’m sorry.”
Chapter 9
Melegal’s fingertips tingled. It wasn’t the height of the great ivory tower that bothered him. It was the fact that he had no idea how to get down from there.
I could jump to my death if need be. I wonder if I would bounce.
He could see everything for miles. Maybe a league. The Three Falls, the grand vineyards, the complete outline of the city. The people looked like ants, the horses and carriages like beetles. There were high towers in the City of Bone that he’d climbed before, but nothing quite like this. He walked along the great stretch of window. The tiles were like black glass beneath his feet.
Is that pure onyx?
He pulled his jerkin tight around his chest and walked the perimeter of the tower. It was round, maybe a hundred feet in diameter. The furnishings were sparse, but fanciful. The sofas were tanned leather, a deep red and lake blue in color. Cabinets made from something that was not wood. Hard. Shiny. Smooth. Dark velvety curtains that hung without rods. Fires burned and warmed the room without fireplaces or chimneys. A huge, soft, green rug with intricate patterns and designs was beneath it all. There were no doors, just one continuous window that encircled the entire room. Melegal’s spine knotted.
What does the little witch want with me?
Melegal’s eyes darted all over the room. His heartbeat quickened. An avenue for escape avoided him. And he’d heard plenty about the wizards, their powers and their towers. From the sky, the locals said, they can see everything and do anything. Still, Melegal hadn’t seen much of anything from them. Not until today. He gazed back out the window. The strange fires crackled and popped behind his back. Sweet soothing scents were in the air.
I could get used to this. The city always has some kind of stink I could do without.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” a soft voice said.
It was her, the woman he’d chatted with in the street. He turned on his heel to face her. She’d changed clothes. A low-cut belt strung with green silken sashes sometimes covered her sensuous hips and legs, except when she moved, which was often. And she wore a high dark bodice that just covered her breasts. A diamond sparkled in the exposed button of her midriff. Her grey eyes were engaging and playful. She combed her fingers through her cinnamon-colored hair, which rested over one shoulder. She looked young and enchanting, but there was something more mature about the way she carried herself.
Ah, the bewitching women of this city. You never know what you’re getting until you wake up the next morning.
“Certainly,” Melegal said, removing his cap. “I can only imagine it’s as exquisite as this tower.”
She allowed herself a smile and opened one of the nearby cabinets. It was alabaster, trimmed in gold. Inside were crystal carafes of many different sorts of wine. She poured a plum-colored one into a crystal glass, walked over with her eyes locked on his, and handed it to him.
“Drink,” she said. “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on it.”
He took the glass and sniffed the bouquet. Took a small sip.
Gentle. Full. A little sweet. Exquisite.
“It’s divine,” he said, taking another sip.
She strolled over to the couch, took a seat near a hovering fire, and said, “That’s interesting, because it’s the worst wine we have.”
“Oh,” Melegal said, eyeing the glass, “well, I’ve never deserved the best. Seems you’re a good judge of character.”
She giggled and patted the cushion beside her.
“I’m only jesting. Now sit with me. Let the fire warm you.”
“Not without a proper introduction,” he said. It was best to assume she was a royal, and he knew their customs all too well. He made a gentle bow and swooped his hat behind his back. “I am Melegal of Bone.” He slipped his cap back on his head.
She nodded and said, “I am Jaen of Three. Now come and share more wine with me. There is business to talk about.”
Jayne. I like the sound of that name.
He smiled and said, “It seems my time is yours.”
She took a sip. “For the moment. And please, don’t worry about your pet. It’s fine.”
“Its name is Quickster.”
“No matter, Melegal. You’ll be reunited soon enough, but first, I imagine you wonder why I have brought you into this tower?”
He nodded, being careful to guard his thoughts.
“The royals in this city are different. We live in towers instead of castles, and we refer to ourselves as wizards or magi, because that is what we are. Every tower is led by a grand wizard. Magic is our passion. Our namesake. And we like our privacy.” She took another sip and set the wine glass down on the table. “And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t have an impact on the people that live below.”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree.” He cleared his throat. “It’s certainly had an impact on me. So ….” He tapped his bony fingers on the wine glass. “What do you want with me?
Slowly sweeping her hair from one shoulder to the other, she crossed her legs in a very sensual manner and smiled.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Eyes on eyes, not on thighs.
Her lips were as pretty as the smile they made. Her eyes were watching his.
Melegal, still uncertain if she could read his mind or not, found it almost impossible to think of nothing. He was trying to be smart. Patient. To let her spill her thoughts, not him spill his.
“You are interesting,” she said. “And that’s why you’re here. We’ve been watching you for some time.”
“We?”
“We watch everything we can. This is the Tower of Watchers, as they say in the streets below. Have you not heard that?”
“I have. But they call them all that. That and by their royal names. In all truth, there is little talk about it. I believe the underlings receive more attention.”
“And what are your thoughts on the underlings?” she said. “Do you think they pose a dire threat?”
Only a fool wouldn’t think so. My, you are beautiful. Everything from your arse to your eyes. Will you remove your clothes so I may ravish you, one kiss at a time?
Jaen’s eyes engaged him, but her expression did not change.
Good. She can’t read my mind. I don’t think.
“Underlings have always been a threat. Certainly that doesn’t escape your eyes and ears in your lofty tower,” he said. He
finished off his wine.
She poured him another.
I could talk and drink all day. “Why ask me?”
“Melegal,” she said, “why were you not overwhelmed when you were transported from the streets to this tower? I’m very curious about that.”
“Bish is full of many surprises. Many I’ve encountered before.”
She leaned forward.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Really.”
“That’s powerful magic you’ve experienced. And you sit here unfazed by it.”
He took a long swallow of wine. His limbs and tongue loosened. He felt a little giddy. His eyes glanced up and down her body.
This wine is incredible. It goes well with your breasts. Lips. Hips. He blinked. Straighten up, Melegal. He set the glass down. Maybe too incredible. Get on track.
“You were about to tell me why I was here?”
“Was I?” she said, leaning back. “Well, I suppose I was. But not until I’m ready.”
Melegal lay back in the soft leather of the couch and said, “Very well.” He closed his eyes. He felt so comfortable. Loose.
“I should have warned you about the wine,” she said. “It’s very strong.”
“Delicious,” Melegal said, yawning. “Intoxicating.”
She put his wine goblet to his lips and said, “Go ahead. Finish it. Enjoy. Rest.”
Every syllable she said was persuasive. Convincing.
He took the goblet from her hand and spilled it down her chest.
She gasped and jumped up from the sofa.
He giggled.
“Why did you do that? You’re not some clumsy oaf,” she said, grabbing a cloth napkin and wiping herself off.
“You’re going to have to take that off now,” he said, “or it will stain.”
What is wrong with me? He blinked his eyes and shook his head. I’m not normally this ornery. Am I?
She stormed over to the cabinet and grabbed another carafe of wine, poured it into another goblet, and brought it to him. It was white. Shades lighter than apple juice.
“Drink this,” she said.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea after that last glass I had.”
She stuck it in his face.
“Drink.”
He took it and drank. His mind sharpened, and he regained his focus. The intoxicating effects of the red wine were gone. He sat up straight and said, “What was that all about?”
“A test.”
“Really?” he said, rubbing his finger over his chin. “Did I pass?”
She shrugged and said, “You did well enough.”
He eyed her and said, “You magi are truly an odd lot. I suppose you’re just going to leave this encounter at that?”
“No, you’ve earned a few answers.” She resumed her seat beside him. “Wine makes one susceptible to suggestion. That plum stuff makes you very susceptible. Most start to guzzle it down. Even when I urged you, you didn’t. Instead, you defended yourself. Set it down. Poured it on me.” She dabbed her chest. The stains faded away. “Impressive.”
“I feel I owe you an apology.” He started to set the white wine down on the table.
“Finish it,” she said. “It’s truly good for your health.”
He hesitated.
“I promise,” she reassured him.
Wine and women. Can’t trust one or the other, but you can have a good time with both.
He took another sip. It was more than pleasant.
“Seems I need to spend more time at the wineries.” He took another swallow. “I could do this all day, but I’ve a feeling you don’t want me hanging around here forever.” He leaned back into his sofa. “But I could get used to it.”
“I’m looking for a go-between,” she said, placing the napkin down on the table. “A runner of sorts.”
“An errand boy?”
“You might call it that. A glorified one, of course. Many benefits come with the job.”
It was an interesting proposition, but it was still employment with royals, and he’d been through more than enough of that already. Unfortunately, he was curious.
“Why me?”
“As I say, we keep watch on things, and many things have been happening at the Magi Roost. We’re glad things have calmed down. But the fact that you outlasted the threat is intriguing. You’re a survivor. Not many could survive a threat like that.”
Well, I’m not so sure I’ve survived anything. It’s only a matter of time before he comes back.
Scorch was part of the reason Melegal avoided the Magi Roost. The all-powerful being had left the impression that he’d be back, and that when he did return, things would be ugly. Billip, Brak, Georgio and Nikkel’s story of roasting like logs in mid-air still haunted him. The vision was still ingrained in his mind, just as his memory of snatching the eyes of the underling Sidebor from a fire like pieces of toast was still clear. And even the memory of Scorch’s voice held a power that shook Melegal to his core.
“Sounds like a dangerous occupation,” he said. “Perhaps you need someone more formidable.”
“No, it’s you I need,” she said, touching his knee. “Subtle. Private. Cunning. Being an outsider is helpful. You see things others have forgotten about seeing.”
“I thought you saw everything. And that your eyes were everywhere.”
“We let the people believe what they want to believe.” Her voice was soft. Persuasive. “And I believe in you.”
He finished his wine and got back on his feet.
“Not interested.” He set the wine glass down. “Now, can you show me out of here?”
“What? I haven’t even told you what the job is. Or how much it pays.”
“I’ve worked with royals before. You’re all the same. I’d just as soon keep my distance from you.” He offered a thin smile. “But I appreciate getting a look inside this tower. And at you as well. I’ll not forget it.”
Jaen produced a small silk purse and poured it out on the table. Its contents glittered and sparkled. Gold, silver, and gems. Melegal’s mouth watered.
That’s a lot of money. At least to me it is. But to her it’s probably nothing. I’m not nothing. I’m The Rat.
“This is payment, not to you, but to one of our associates. He has a package for us. All you have to do is drop off the payment, pick up the package, and bring it back to us.” She toyed with the treasure. “And when you get back, you’ll receive a treasure such as this for yourself.”
Who is us? He eyed the treasure on the table. It was a small fortune.
“When do you need this delivered?” he asked.
“Now,” Jaen said.
“I’m not one to rush into things, so I’ll have to pass.” He looked around. The room seemed to be closing in. “Can you lead me out of here now?”
Jaen sighed, shook her head, rose to her feet, sauntered over and wrapped her arm around his. Her soft skin and pleasant curves loosened his rigid resolve. Her lips brushed against his ear.
“Do this for me, Melegal, please? I know your services are worth more than gold. But I need a man of your talents whom I can trust. An outsider with know-how.”
“You can’t trust me,” he said. He tried to pull away, but his boots were frozen to the floor. He tried more honesty, saying, “And I’m sure I can’t trust you. I’ve been told many times since I’ve arrived, ‘Never make a deal with a mage. They’ll skewer you.’”
She released his arm, stepped away, scooped the treasure back into the bag, and dangled it in front of him.
“Then we won’t make a deal.” Her painted eyes narrowed. “We’ll just call it blackmail.”
“Blackmail? Why blackmail?”
“What? And what about that gold?”
“The gold is off the table,” she said, putting the silk bag in his hand. She patted his cheek. “Now all you’ll get is another ride on your donkey. You should have taken the deal I offered you to begin with.” She scowled. “It was far better than you deserved.”
Melegal squeezed the silk purse in his fist. His eyes narrowed. Dozens of profanities raced through his mind. So did another word: IDIOT! He stuffed the purse inside his jerkin.
“Tell me what I must do.”
Chapter 10
Kam stood at the bottom of the stairs in the Magi Roost, watching Erin crawl up. Her heart pumped. She clutched her hand over her breast. Erin slipped down a step, and Kam lunged forward.
“Give her a chance,” Joline ordered from the top of the steps. She shook a shiny rattle in her hand. “She’ll make it.”
Kam pulled her outstretched arm back, dug her nails into her palm, and bit her lip.
Erin pulled herself up one stair, then another, eyes fixed on the rattle.
Joline kneeled down and said, “Come on, Pretty Girl. You’ve almost made it.”
Kam’s temples pulsated. After all she’d been through, watching her daughter grow day by day was almost a horrific thing. Any time you took your eye off the little girl, she would move. She climbed out of her crib. Through doors. Tumbled down the steps and fell asleep hidden behind the bar. Kam had almost killed everyone the day that happened. Even Joline.
Erin made it to the last step at the top and stretched her tiny hand up toward the rattle. A little bracelet was on her wrist, trimmed in tiny gemstones. Kam, with some help, had made it for her. It couldn’t be removed, and it made finding her easy. The little girl pushed her belly onto the last step, and Joline handed her the rattle. Erin stuck it straight in her mouth.
The Darkslayer: Series 2, Box Set #1, Books 1 - 3 (Bish and Bone) Page 20
