An Opportunity for Profit tddts-5

by David Gross

  Sharessa had never had trouble penetrating the veils that men use to obscure their motives. Black-fingers had also been a mystery to her, at first. It hadn't taken Sharessa long to insinuate herself into his council, earning his trust and later his affections. He was much more likely to listen to her opinion after they had begun sharing a bunk most nights. She liked to think that her motives were never entirely selfish. Never did she misuse Blackfingers's trust, nor did she betray the secrets he had shared with her. As whether she was merely using him, Sharessa truly had cared for Blackfingers-far more than she realized until it was too late, and he was dead. Unlike Kurthe, who sought to punish Blackfingers's killer, Sharessa wanted only to replace the loss, to fill the void.

  At first, Belmer was exciting and impressive. While most of the other Sharkers hated his mysterious agenda and private council, Sharessa found him the more intriguing for it. She always loved the shadows more than the daylight. Was Belmer smiling in the darkness, too? Sharessa couldn't see his face. The moon had fallen too low to spill light this far into the ravine. She craned her neck to see that the upper half of the far cliff side was still illuminated in the ghost light.

  "Did the others get off the bridge?"

  "I couldn't tell. There was some more shouting after you fell, but I think they fled."

  "How will we find them?" "I don't know."

  "They need Brindra's sword, or they don't have a chance." Sharessa began to fear for their lives. It was hard to lose Blackfingers, but Ingrar's blindness and Brindra's death shouldn't have hurt so badly. Sharessa often had seen companions die in her years as a pirate. She knew it could happen to her or to one standing beside her. If Tempus was asking Sharessa who would die next, then the answer was always, "Thankee kindly, but I'll have mine later." Now, however, Sharessa was beginning to think she'd trade her life just to make sure that Anvil or Belgin had Brindra's enchanted sword to use against the fiend that stalked them.

  Belmer looked up at the cliff. "I can't make it up there and carry you," he said.

  "You can leave me here," she replied.

  "Well wait a while first. If the others don't come along after half hour, I'll try the climb."

  "What makes you think they'll be able to search for us with that fiend behind them?" Sharessa didn't like the idea of being left down here while Belmer ascended the cliff, but she knew she couldn't make the climb with her wounded arm.

  "Without me, no one collects their money," he replied with a little shrug.

  "I thought you weren't worried about the money anymore," said Sharessa. She saw the black line of Belmer's smile in the reflected light.

  "What's the point of our being here, if not for the money?"

  "After what you told Anvil, I thought you cared more about just…"

  "Oh, Shadow," Belmer said, chuckling. "What would you have told him? It was the only thing he would hear from me. Perhaps you could have found a subtler persuasion. You have a greater talent for it than I."

  Sharessa pushed away from him, standing apart. She didn't like the way he was laughing. Was he mocking her? Did she seem so transparent? Her frown must have told him what she was thinking.

  "Besides, it was true," he said soothingly. "How can we enjoy our reward if we don't survive to collect it."

  "I saw the way you looked at Ingrar when we stopped," countered Sharessa. 'You weren't worried just about the money then."

  Belmer chuckled again. "What? Did you think I'd gone paternal on the boy?"

  "So why didn't you order him left behind?"

  "And spark a mutiny? Come, Shadow, there's no profit in mercy. Taking Ingrar with us kept Anvil and Brindra from fighting me. He was valuable, so we kept him."

  'You don't really think that way, do you?"

  "Of course I do. So do you. What did you do before we met? You killed people for their cargo."

  "I'm not denying that," said Sharessa. Her own bitterness surprised her. "But Ingrar's a mate. We're loyal to each other."

  "Loyalty is just another contract," Belmer stated.

  "What?"

  "What's loyalty but a promise of help in return for the same? You're loyal to Anvil and Rings and the rest because you know that they'll watch your back in return. It's an informal agreement, but it's just a contract, no different from the one you signed for me."

  "It's completely different," said Shar. "It's a matter of trust."

  "Isn't trust what a contract is for?"

  "Of course not! Contracts are for when you don't trust someone."

  Belmer laughed again. "The only difference is that contracts are written, and your promise of loyalty is never spoken."

  "Even so, that's a big difference in itself."

  "I don't think so," said Belmer. "Every man does just what pleases him, and contracts are a way to keep others from interfering with his wishes."

  "So what about priests and lords who give their money to the poor?"

  "They do it because it pleases them." Belmer shrugged again, but he was no longer looking at Sharessa. He seemed bored with the conversation and turned his attention to the cliff above.

  "How can it please someone to give up all his wealth and live like a beggar, just to spread a few coins around a crowd that'll live and die in filth anyway? What's the pleasure in serving others who don't have the strength to take for themselves? That's sacrifice. It's charity."

  "No, that's foolish," said Belmer, still watching the cliff. "But it pleases those who think their gods will reward them for it. Even a priest behaves kindly because he thinks there's spiritual profit in it for him." Belmer stopped staring at the cliff and looked straight at Sharessa.

  "There's nothing good in this world, Shadow. Everyone seeks profit, whether that's gold, power, pleasure, or passing crusts to beggars because II-mater will love you for it. You get what you take by your own strength and cunning, and when someone interferes with that, you kill him. That's what I do, and that's what you do. It's what we are."

  Sharessa stared back at Belmer, wanting desper ately to argue with him. If he'd put it another way, if they'd laughed at the misfortune of some ship they'd robbed together over cups of ale in a Tharkaran tavern, then she'd smile or laugh or make a joke in response. But put so seriously, examined so plainly, this life didn't seem exciting. It seemed wicked and cold, like the fiend that hunted them for its own pleasure. Cruelty was that monster's profit.

  Her damp clothes seemed suddenly cold, and Sharessa hugged herself against an imagined wind. The sudden pain in her right arm made her wince, but it warmed her slightly. That twinge made her think that maybe what set her apart from the fiend was that she sought profit in pleasure rather than pain. Maybe that was the important difference, the thing that made her human.

  She looked up to renew the argument with Belmer, but he had already crouched low against the cliff wall. She felt his cool hand touch her belt, tugging her gently to join him. Sharessa crept into the shadow beside Belmer, and he leaned close to whisper.

  "Something's coming."

  Chapter Seven

  Bait

  Doubt drew the moment thin and tight as a bowstring. Sharessa felt a nauseous, uncertain quivering in her stomach as she strained to hear the sound that had alerted Belmer. Distance shushed the echoes of something coming through the forest above.

  When Sharessa saw torchlight reflected on the far cliff, she felt her own smile and rose to her feet to call out, but Belmer squeezed her left hand to stop her. He put his lips near her ear and whispered, "Wait."

  They listened carefully, almost painfully. Sharessa heard the faint sound of voices far above.

  "It's them," she whispered to Belmer.

  He hesitated a moment longer. "This fiend has tricked us with illusions before."

  Sharessa nodded and drew Brindra's sword from her belt. "Here," she said, offering it to Belmer. This time he did not protest.

  "Call out. I'll climb, in case it's another of the fiend's tricks." He faded into the shadows before Sharessa cou
ld reply.

  "Rings!" called Sharessa. "Anvil! Belmer! I'm down here!"

  "Shar!" came the dwarf's reply. Then they all called out questions for a moment before falling suddenly silent again. Sharessa was sure it was really them; they'd remembered the fiend might hear them. Soon they lowered the rope that they had salvaged from the Morning Bird.

  "My arm's hurt," called Sharessa from the bottom of the cliff. She hoped her voice was loud enough for them to hear, but not so loud that it carried down the ravine. "You'll have to pull me up."

  She looped the rope around herself and secured it as best she could with one arm. She tugged once, hard.

  "Belmer?" she whispered. But he did not answer. She wondered whether he was already climbing. The rope pulled taut, and she felt herself rise. She used her feet to guide her ascent, careful of her wounded arm. When she came to the top, eager hands pulled her into quick embraces and patted her on the back, careful of her arm.

  "Brindra's dead," said Sharessa. She could see by their faces that they already knew it.

  "At least you made it," said Belgin. His chubby face was lucent with moonlight. "We saw you fall."

  "The water knocked me senseless, but Belmer found me before I drowned."

  "Belmer made it, too?" Rings sounded half disappointed, half astonished. "The fiend threw him like a doll."

  "He's not human," interjected Turbalt. Sharessa marvelled that he still lived, while better fighters had already fallen to the fiend tonight. "He's a fiend himself! We should get out of here before he finds us again."

  "Silence," said Belgin.

  "I have a right to speak my mind," bleated Turbalt. "It was my ship you sank. They were my men you've let die — "

  "Shut up, you fool!" This time it was one of his own crewmen who spoke. Turbalt didn't even pause.

  "And I haven't been paid yet! By Umberlee, I'll have…"

  "You'll have what?" Belmer's voice came smooth as a sharp knife from the shadows.

  Turbalt's flabby face blanched, and his jowls shook as he jabbered his mouth silently. He didn't turn around to face the voice but shuffled back into the shadows. Belmer walked into the light, ignoring the frightened ship captain.

  "Kill those torches, and hood the lamp. If the fiend doesn't know that you've found us, we may have an advantage we can use."

  "What d'ye have in mind?" asked Rings. He stubbed out the torch he carried before Belmer could answer. One of the sailors did the same with the other, and Anvil shuttered the lantern. The scant light spilling through its covers cast tiny yellow stars on the faces of the company. "Listen carefully," said Belmer.

  Rings and Anvil took the lead, each carrying a freshly lighted torch. Rings held his plain axe in his other hand, while Anvil clutched the unlighted lantern. Its hood was missing, and the remaining oil sloshed gently as they walked.

  Sharessa knew that Anvil hadn't liked relinquishing his stewardship of the blinded Ingrar, but after exacting a promise from Belgin that the round-faced gambler wouldn't stray from the young pirate, he had relented.

  The three survivors of the Morning Bird took up the rear this time. Turbalt kept pushing ahead of the other two, trying desperately to keep himself in the middle. The crewmen glared at the back of their former captain's head. They obviously despised him more than the Sharkers ever could. It was bad to be a weak and cowardly man, but it was far worse to be so when commanding the lives of others. They would never forgive him for that.

  "He's using us as bait," whimpered Turbalt. His earlier histrionics had reduced his voice to a strangled mewling. "Belmer's sacrificing us to the fiend to save himself!"

  Belgin reached out and slapped Turbalt in the back of the head with a quick hand. The fat ship captain stumbled to one knee. He rose, indignant and persistent.

  "You know it's-" The heavy slap whipped his face around, harder than before. Belgin didn't speak a word. When Turbalt opened his mouth again, he just struck him again, harder still, spinning the fat man to the ground.

  "That's enough," said Belgin softly. With the faintest of whimpers, Turbalt crawled to his feet and followed, this time taking up the rear.

  Sharessa watched it all from the darkness. Her clothes remained damp from her plunge into the river, but the sultry night was uncomfortable. On this side of the river, the ground was soft and moist. The tall trees had shrunk and withered, their gnarled limbs painful in the shifting torchlight.

  The breezes had fled, and in their wake had risen a miasma of insects. Where they stung, Sharessa felt her flesh contract and burn. She dare not slap at them as she shadowed the others, staying always just outside the torchlight, but not too far away. Instead, she squeezed the handle of Rings's everbright axe.

  Somewhere on the other side of the torchlight was Belmer, his path mirroring Sharessa's. He bore Brindra's enchanted sword. Together they waited for the fiend to attack the others. They couldn't defend themselves without these two weapons, so Turbalt's words were true. Belmer had called it a lure, but the careless passage made them nothing more than bait. Sharessa and Belmer were the hooks.

  The heat grew more intense, the insects ever fiercer. Sharessa wiped at her sweaty neck, and her hand came away a battlefield of bloody mosquito bodies. Another legion took their place, their buzzing growing louder in her ears.

  Back in the torchlight, Turbalt and the sailors slapped at their faces and arms, cursing, then peering into the darkness to see if their noises had at tracted attention. Sharessa could see by their halting gaits that they expected the attack at any moment. She knew how they felt. Her own muscles were sore from stopping at the crack of a twig, from twisting suddenly at the supernatural chill that passed like a winter cloud across the back of her neck.

  Maybe the fiend never crossed the river, she half-hoped. She banished the thought as soon as it formed. That's what the thing would want them to think. They had to believe it would attack again, or else it would catch them by surprise yet again.

  Something trembled the brush ahead of Sharessa. She stopped. Her blood turned to ice, and the mosquito bites spread like fire across her skin. She watched the spot carefully but saw nothing. The others hadn't heard the sound. They continued their journey.

  The sound came again, this time behind the travelers. They spun around, the sudden movement of the torches creating a vertiginous whirl of shadows. Rings and Anvil brandished the torches like swords, holding their weapons like mere shields. Belgin swept Ingrar behind the warriors, and the sailors followed, forming a defensive square around the blind boy and the gambler.

  Turbalt screamed and ran blindly into the woods- straight toward Sharessa. The rustling darkness followed him.

  Sharessa slipped sideways, smooth as a serpent. The bumbling Turbalt crashed past her. Something hotter and darker than the night followed upon his heels. Sharessa raised the axe in both hands and struck.

  The impact was tremendous; it evoked a squealing hiss and a blast of putrid breath. The axe re bounded, spinning Sharessa backward. She barely kept her double grip upon the dwarven weapon. She struck again before recovering her balance. Again her blade struck hard, but she felt the same unyielding impact, closer this time. The thing closed with her.

  Sharessa threw herself backward, but one foot caught in the undergrowth. She felt a searing slash across her hip. Before another came, she thrust away. Dead roots twisted hard at her feet. She tore away, wrenching an ankle. As she stood, pain exploded in the twisted joint. She hopped to the side, but then an avalanche fell upon her.

  Sharessa felt ragged fingers reach into her hair, pulling her head back. A bony knee pressed hard into her spine. She opened her mouth to scream, but her lungs were already squeezed empty. It was breaking her in half.

  The fiend squealed again, this time in pain and rage. When it released Sharessa, the pirate rolled weakly to the side. She saw Belmer's lithe form in silhouette against the torchlight. He stood before the fiend, Brindra's sword pointed at its face. The torches came closer as Anvil and Rings charged fo
rward.

  Even crouched, the fiend towered over Belmer. Its arms and legs were long, with hard muscles knotted together in grotesque clusters. Claws whipped toward Belmer, blossoming like bony flowers. Brindra's sword licked out, and the fiend drew back its wounded hands. It held them to its mouth, and Sharessa heard a horrid sucking sound.

  Belmer didn't give the fiend a chance to lick its wounds. He darted in, stabbing at its leg. Blood sprayed like a string of black pearls, glimmering briefly before splattering on the ground.

  The fiend struck back with a scythelike motion. Belmer's parry materialized before the attack, but it was only a feint. The heavy tail crashed into the ground where Belmer had stood, but the little man leapt above it, slashing at the fiend's face. The creature was too fast, slipping back just out of range of the sword.

  It didn't hear the others until they were nearly upon it.

  A burly sailor threw his shoulder into the back of the fiend's leg. The monster stumbled backward, turning to reach its attacker with its teeth and claws. The man had time for a single dying scream.

  A torch smashed against its head, casting a halo of sparks about its skull. A second sailor backpedaled to escape, but he was too slow. The fiend's tail arched down, piercing the man's throat with its sharp barb. A dark spurt of blood crossed the sailor's face. He reached up with clumsy hands to staunch the flow, but his movements were weak and jerky. He sank to the ground.

  A big shadow rose behind the fiend as it descended upon the fallen sailor. Anvil smashed the open lantern against the monster's back. The blow itself would have stunned or killed a man, but it merely surprised the creature, splashing it with lamp oil. Rather than press the attack, Anvil threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the fiend's powerful tail.

  Rings was already on the fiend's other side. He smashed his flaming brand against the fiend's back. The oil ignited immediately, spreading across the monster's decaying flesh in a blue-white wave. The fiend raised its arms high above its head and shrieked, shaking its ragged claws at the sky.