Whisper

by Christine Grey

  Carly was already tugging on Dearra’s arm, trying to get her moving, thereby distracting her from the expressions on the men’s faces, which would certainly have gotten Dearra’s mind spinning.

  ***

  Dearra was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow. The day’s events had taken a lot out of her, and she was surprised to be woken up in the dark of night by Brin.

  Dearra! Dearra, wake up!

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” she whispered, trying not to wake Carly. Had she been more fully awake, she might have answered in her head, but she was barely able to open her eyes, let alone think clearly.

  Oh, nothing. I was just thinking.

  “Can’t you think in the morning, Brin?” Dearra said. She sank back onto her soft pillow, and her eyes started to drift shut.

  I just thought we could sneak out and go to the tavern Darius showed us earlier.

  Dearra’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up quickly. “We couldn’t do that, Brin! It’s the dead of night! What if something happened? No one would know where to find us. No, absolutely not; it’s too dangerous!”

  We could bring Carly along. You said yourself, she’s very good with her knife. She could stay outside in the shadows while you go in. Then, if anything happened, she could come back for help. You know she would love it, besides. So would the Dearra I used to know. But if you’re too afraid….

  “Goading me into it isn’t going to work, Brin. That tavern is a dangerous place. But just for the sake of argument, do you really think Carly could handle it?”

  “Never doubt an Etrafarian,” Carly said impishly as she threw back her covers and started to dress.

  I really do like that girl, Brin said happily.

  Dearra growled a rumble of defeat before tossing aside her own covers and dressing as quietly as possible.

  ***

  Once the two young women had donned their Parsaian garb, they wriggled cautiously out of the window in their room. They would have gone out the front door, but they couldn’t risk waking the men as they passed their rooms. The outer robes they wore were dark and blended well with the outside walls of the inn on the moonless night. They missed a couple of turns, but Dearra mostly remembered the way. Brin helped as much as he could, but he was not familiar with that part of town either, and things looked quite different in the inky blackness, besides.

  “There,” Carly whispered, tugging at Dearra’s sleeve and pointing to the tavern.

  “It looks awfully dark,” Dearra said. “Aren’t these places supposed to stay open quite late?”

  “I’m not sure, Dearra, but I would guess the first step to finding out would be to actually go inside.”

  “Ha, ha. Thank you, Carly.”

  The two of them slipped quietly closer and clung to the shadows as much as possible as they went.

  Dearra pushed against the door which opened with a faint squeak. She thought it odd, as the hinges looked new, but then she realized the squeak was probably there by design, in order to alert anyone inside of trespassers after hours.

  She nudged the door steadily wider in spite of the noise it made. Inside, the room was totally black and appeared completely abandoned.

  Small pinpricks of starlight broke through the mostly cloudy sky, and Dearra got a brief glimpse of Carly’s anxious and excited face as they stood in the doorway.

  “Stay here,” she mouthed silently to her.

  “Yeah, right,” Carly mouthed in return.

  Dearra shrugged her shoulders and they crept inside. Carly’s fingers wrapped in the heavy fabric of Dearra’s outer robe, and though the constant tugging served to remind Dearra she was not alone, it gave her little comfort. Dearra felt like a bow string that had been stretched taut. She almost quivered in anticipation. While she could not see what was up ahead, she could smell the pungent aroma of pipe tobacco, the semi-sweet and somewhat nutty fragrance of some kind of fermented beverage, and less pleasant, but not unexpected in a place like this, a combination of sweat and vomit.

  You’re going too slowly! Brin’s said, his unexpected outburst making Dearra jump in surprise. Carly’s grip tightened convulsively, and Dearra reached a hand back and patted her arm reassuringly.

  Damn it, Brin! Don’t do that! Dearra silently scolded.

  You just need to hurry, is all, Brin said, sounding somewhat sheepish.

  What in Cyrus’s name for? It’s early yet. The men won’t notice we’re gone for hours to come. What’s the rush?

  Almost as an answer to her question, Dearra heard the sound of muffled laughter and yelling. She put her hand to the door before her and opened it cautiously to reveal a passageway and stone steps leading downward. The corridor itself was unlit, but the faint glowing of distant torches made the stairs appear more gray than black, and Dearra felt confident she would be able to navigate her way without breaking her neck. Well, she probably would be able to navigate her way without breaking her neck.

  Dearra, please hurry.

  Brin sounded serious, and that, more than anything, frightened her. What aren’t you telling me? Dearra asked.

  I was…well, we never get to do anything. I was so bored, and it just didn’t seem right that the men got to have all of the adventure, but now…

  What about the men? Dearra demanded, not liking where the conversation was headed. Before Brin could offer further explanation, Dearra heard a loud thud, followed by more laughter, and then—

  The low groan that reached her ears was uttered by a voice so familiar to her that it might be her own. In fact, at that particular moment, she would rather it were her own, for to hear Darius in pain like that was almost more than she could take.

  Dearra ignored Carly’s frantic tugging and slipped silently closer and closer to the sound that drew her onward. The ground evened out at the bottom of the stairs, where a narrow pathway led them to several locked doors, but it was the large circular room at the end of the hall that held their interest. In that room, the walls were supported by beams and braces, much like a mine would be, in an effort to support the structure built on top of sandy and unstable ground. Torches were set into the walls, and crates were stacked about the room. In the center of the room, Darius, Daniel, and William sat tied to chairs. Daniel and William seemed unharmed, though Daniel had been gagged, and he fought viciously against his tethers. The same could not be said for Darius, who had been beaten. He was still conscious, though he slumped in his chair, letting the ropes that bound him support his weight.

  “Now, now, let’s be tryin’ this again. How many are ye, and where be the coin?”

  Darius only glared at his captor.

  “I swear, Breken, ye be a difficult man. What’s it to ye, anyhow? One small, foreign boy, not even yer own. Just tell us how many of ye there be and where the silver is, and once we be getting our hands on the coin, ye can be on yer way.”

  “I can’t do that,” Darius said. “He would be as good as dead if we don’t ransom him. Dead, or worse, alive as a Breken slave.”

  “So, he dies. What’s one dead Maj brat, more or less?”

  Dearra’s sharp intake of breath was covered by Darius’s furious growl before he spit in his captors face.

  The man wiped the mess from his forehead and cheek and grabbed a board lying nearby. He was about to strike when Dearra came out from behind the crates, Brin extended in front of her. With her hair unbound and the light of the torches casting shadows all around her as her sword glowed faintly red, she looked like an avenging angel come down amongst the lesser races.

  Darius’s eyes went wide and a look of pure panic spread across his face.

  Dearra did not speak as she quickly assessed the situation. There were five men in total. The one who had been about to strike Darius was, no doubt, the leader. He seemed dressed more elegantly, though his speech was by no means formal, seeming to bounce between common wharf rat and nobleman, as if he couldn’t quite manage either persona fully. There were two men standing guard by William and
Daniel, but what was more distressing, there were also two men stationed at the entrance to the chamber. The same crates that had concealed Dearra from view had also blocked her view of them, and she found herself no more than six feet distant from the closest man and maybe ten from the other.

  “What ‘ave we ‘ere? A pretty piece she is,” the leader said, grinning wickedly at Dearra, as the other men chuckled in amusement.

  Any lethargy Darius had shown earlier vanished, and he sat tense and alert, not wanting to betray knowing her for fear it would put her in even more danger. He hoped that, perhaps, they could fool the thieves into thinking she was simply lost and—

  “Those men belong to me,” Dearra stated boldly, dashing Darius’s fragile hopes.

  “What? All three?” the leader asked in mock disbelief. Again, the other men laughed, though this time adding jokes of their own, most of which would have made Dearra blush under normal circumstances.

  “Just the dark one, really, but I want all three just the same.”

  Left, Dearra, Brin warned.

  To the man on Dearra’s left, it looked like she had read his mind, for almost as soon as the thought to strike had formed in his head, the girl spun on him, aiming her sword in his direction. It was unnerving how decisively she had turned on him.

  In his waistband, Dearra.

  “The knife tucked into the waist of your pants. Pull it out slowly and toss it behind you,” she ordered.

  The man scowled fiercely but made as if he would comply.

  “No, not the left hand,” Dearra said, stopping him. “You’re left handed; use your right hand.”

  A little frightened now, the man’s hand shook slightly as he pulled the knife from his pants and tossed it away.

  The leader sneered in her direction, but spoke to the now unarmed guard. “Dobbin, you useless pile of fish guts.”

  In a rush, perhaps not wanting to incur his master’s disfavor, the second man at the entrance dashed in.

  “Dearra!” Darius shouted, unnecessarily, for Brin had already warned her a moment sooner. The man’s charge was clumsy, and Dearra easily sidestepped him, brought Brin down sharply, and knocked him unconscious. Darius watched with pride and relief as Dearra stepped fluidly around the prone man, and extended her sword out in front of her again.

  The first guard, seeing his companion so easily dispatched, stood with wide eyes as he mumbled prayers for salvation. Dearra began to wonder what kind of god thieves prayed to, but Brin’s silent admonishment snapped her focus back to the three adversaries before her.

  “Little girl,” the leader said calmly. “There are four of us, well, three anyway,” he amended, shaking his head in disgust at Dobbin, who remained quaking on the ground. “Ye cannot win.”

  “I don’t want to win, I simply wish to take what’s mine and go.”

  “Maybe I should let them go free and keep me a pretty dove to play with instead.”

  Unable to contain himself any longer, Darius growled low in his throat, and said, “I’ll kill you if you touch her.”

  The leader lifted the board he had been holding and swiftly struck at Darius, snapping the wood in two. Dearra charged forward, but the two men who stood beside William and Daniel drew swords of their own, and when they did, Dearra marked the way they stood and the ease with which they held their weapons, and she knew she faced skilled swordsmen.

  “Dearra, please, just go. You can’t fight them all. Please, love,” Darius said.

  Dearra looked at Darius’s bruised and bleeding face, and felt her temper flare. A humorless grin spread across her face as she looked to the man who had harmed him. The golden rings of her eyes flashed in the torch light as she said, “See, now I have to kill you.”

  It all happened so quickly. Brin yelled to Dearra to watch her back. Daniel tried to shout a warning through the gag in his mouth, but the guard who had been watching Daniel struck him hard across the face, effectively silencing him. Dearra turned swiftly, and Brin sank silently into the soft belly of Dobbin, who had regained a small measure of courage, only to die for it moments later. As Dobbin slipped to the dirt floor, Dearra spun back to face the remaining men. An instant later, the guard who had hit Daniel joined Dobbin, face up on the dirt floor, the jeweled dagger in his chest giving evidence to the cause of his death.

  Carly strode forward. The leader and the one remaining guard had stepped back, mostly from shock at how the events had spun so wildly out of their control. Carly edged her way closer to the prone man, and keeping one eye on the two remaining threats, took hold of the dagger embedded in her victim’s chest. With a delicate shudder, she pulled the blade free. With her other hand, she awkwardly grabbed the fallen guard’s sword, and matched Dearra’s stance.

  “It seems the odds have changed,” Dearra said, her voice deadly serious.

  A loud but distorted bellow from Daniel made Carly and Dearra change focus for a moment, and they turned toward their bound friends.

  “I believe he wants you to cut him loose,” William said with a small grin.

  Don’t do it, Dearra! This is the most fun I’ve had in ages! Brin said.

  “Carly, help the men,” Dearra instructed, and she continued to point Brin at the two men who were now backed against the stone wall. Carly used her blood-covered dagger to slice away Daniel’s bindings first. He quickly reclaimed the sword that had been taken from him, and joined Dearra as Carly first freed William, and then Darius.

  “Well, ye be holdin’ all the power now. So what is it ye want?” The leader suddenly looked smaller to Dearra’s eyes as he bargained in an attempt to save his own neck.

  “I want nothing but your blood on my sword,” Dearra said, and she lurched, headlong, to make good on her threat, but Daniel stopped her before she had advanced more than a step.

  Get him, Dearra! Get him! Look at Darius. Look what that pig did to him! Cut him down!

  “I’m trying!” Dearra said aloud as she whipped against Daniel’s grip.

  “Dearra,” Darius said, though not loudly.

  Almost instantly, Dearra calmed and looked into Darius’s warm brown eyes.

  “Leave him be.”

  “But he beat you! He—”

  “For Phillip, Dearra.”

  Defeated, Dearra stepped back, though she refused to lower her sword.

  After that, Tebreh, the leader of the Sayeh, seemed more than willing to provide all of the information they requested. He told them Phillip was being held by none other than House Falco, the very same house Darius had told Dearra about only days before.

  For some reason, this news seemed to agitate Darius, and he made Tebreh swear to its truth more than once. Darius had expected that Phillip would have ended up in House Tigre, his own house, as the captain’s way of compensating his father for Darius’s loss, the loss of an only son, on what should have been an easy raiding mission. Darius worried over the implications of this new and unexpected development.

  When they had gotten what information they could, they tied Tebreh and his guards to the same chairs that had been used to hold Daniel and William only a short time before.

  “What about us?” Tebreh demanded.

  “It will be morning soon. Your men will surely find you then,” Daniel said.

  Tebreh glared at them angrily, though he was hardly in a position to argue.

  “Tebreh,” Daniel said. “This is an end to our dealings. If any of us should cross your path again, we will not hesitate to kill you.”

  Tebreh’s lips twitched as some stray thought served to brighten his mood. Almost at the same time, Dearra’s expression twisted into one of rage as Brin shared with her what that thought had been. Before Darius could stop her, she slammed the hilt of her sword into Tebreh’s nose, breaking it in more than one place. A gout of blood soaked his shirt. Dearra roughly took hold of the man by his injured nose and Tebreh yowled loudly. Ignoring his protests, Dearra put her mouth close to his ear and whispered something for him alone to hear. Tebreh’
s eyes flashed to Darius and then quickly back to Dearra, and he shook his head from side to side. Dearra squeezed slightly harder on his nose as if she were unconvinced of his sincerity.

  “No! I swear!” Tebreh yelled.

  Dearra stood erect and glared down at the bound man. “I hope for your sake, Tebreh, that you are a man of your word.”

  Again, Tebreh glanced at Darius and then quickly back to Dearra before saying, “Not one hair. I swear it.”

  The five weary companions made their way back to the inn with William and Daniel supporting the much battered Darius between them, while Carly and Dearra followed slightly behind.

  “I could tell you were making Tebreh promise no further harm would ever come to Darius,” Carly said quietly. “But what exactly did you whisper to get him to agree so enthusiastically?”

  Dearra felt a blush on her cheeks as she responded. “It’s not something I wish to repeat. Let’s just say that men seem to have one thing in common—they are all remarkably protective of their…swords.”

  Neither girl spoke further, but each wore a wicked grin on her face that would have sent Tebreh running in horror.

  Chapter 17

  Phillip

  Falco! That’s the name of the family that holds me, Father. I knew I would think of it. The scarred one is the father of Mili. They are of the House Falco, and since he is the head of this house, he goes by just his house name. It all seems kind of silly to me, having a front name and a back name like that, but this whole place is pretty strange, so two names is no worse than anything else I’ve seen.

  There was a big mess here last night, let me tell you! This Tiger guy—that’s his name, though he isn’t really a tiger or anything. So anyway, he came here and started yelling at the Falcon guy. Mili just sat there the whole time looking at me like I was a goose at Harvest Celebration.

  The Tiger guy said I rightfully belonged to him, because his son was dead, and he needed to get paid something for what he’s out, and the Falcon guy said, no way, because the Tiger guy’s dead son was married to his daughter, Mili, and so now he’s out one son-in- law and stuck with Mili. She didn’t seem to like that too much, and I had a pretty hard time not laughing at the face she made. It was kind of like the face you make when Dearra cooks. You know what I mean. So anyway, then the Tiger guy said that Darius was his only son, and married or not, he was still a loss to House Tiger.