Salt in the Water (A Lesser Dark Book 1)

by S. Cushaway

  She narrowed her sunset-bright eyes. “What have you done, Gairy Reidur?”

  “Nothin’,” he answered honestly. “I’m just here guarding the water rights and keepin’ quiet. Now, if you do the same, maybe you’ll be a good scout one day. Maybe I’ll put in a good word for you after the . . . after we get back to Dogton. We’ll be out here a while though,” he added. “So just relax. Tomorrow we’ll go up to Pointe Rock and have a look at the view. Nice up there at sunset.”

  “You know what happened, don’t you? You—” Senqua’s mouth opened and closed, reminding him of an illustration of a fish in the Pumer field guide.

  Finally, she managed to speak. “Someone bought you out. To keep you quiet. That’s where you got all this Saltang from, isn’t it? It wasn’t some caravan that came through last time you were here. You. Sold. Out.”

  “I—”

  Senqua snatched the bucket from the ground and heaved it at him. It smacked against his chest with enough force to leave a hot, stinging welt.

  “Stop throwin’ things like a maniac!” Gairy rubbed the bruise. “Go in the outpost. Sit down and read that book I gave you. Keep your mouth quiet for the next few days and things will be fine. You and me? We don’t know nothin’. All we’ve seen out here is a few vultures. Crows. Couple of—”

  “You can do whatever you want, but I’m going back to Dogton. Now. Without you. If you try to stop me . . .” She bared her sharp teeth. “I’ll stick a boot knife right in your belly. If something happens to Kaitar’s team, it’s on your head!”

  Squinting, he rose, the weight of his heavy body almost pulling him back down.

  She’s not gonna be happy when she finds that the Draggin’s cell ain’t charged. She—

  Dust shimmered in the west, bright red and orange. Shielding his eyes, Gairy studied the swirling cloud, still more than a mile in the distance, but coming on fast. He slapped at a fly absently, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

  Dust storm? No . . . not enough wind for one.

  The sudden revelation made him blanch, though he’d been expecting this very visit any day. He wet his lips. “Here they come. Senqua, you get inside. They won’t bother you if you keep your mouth shut.”

  “Who?” Senqua asked, turning to stare at the line of dust; it rolled along the landscape, thick and high, heralding the approach of the entire Scrapper fleet. Her eyes grew big, nostrils flaring, every muscle tensed—she gave Gairy the fleeting impression of an antelope. “What’s going on? What did you do, Gairy?”

  Before he could answer, she bolted toward the shack, moving so quickly she seemed no more than a blur. The door swung on its hinges, banging closed behind her.

  Gairy grimaced; Shyiine always ran and hid. Perhaps it was better, though. Scrappers could get a bit rough sometimes.

  Metal glinted in the sunlight, bright enough to cut through the dust. A low rumble—too familiar, somehow—reached his ears. Shapes became visible through the haze. Murky, dark things that seemed without solid form or substance. Ignoring the droning insects, ignoring his soaked shirt and soggy beard, Gairy waited. The pungent smell of his own body, the reek of liquor, and the damp scent of his clothing all mingled together in a noxious medley. But the odor wasn’t what made his big belly knot; it was that sound. Frowning, he tried to remember where he’d heard that exact pitch before.

  Romano’s Draggin.

  A small and very secret regret pinched his soul, more painful than where the bucket had smacked him. Gairy shuffled toward the crate. It had been almost a full day since his last bottle, and he wanted to drown the twinge of guilt with a well-deserved gulp. But the crate was empty, had been empty all morning save for a red centipede that had crawled to the bottom. It curled there, waiting to bite anyone who stuck their hand in. Gairy swore, kicked the crate over and watched the thing wiggle in confused panic. He stomped on it, grinding his boot heel hard. His heavy tread killed the poisonous bug, but it didn’t kill the regret. That still stung. And so did the thirst. He moved his foot and regarded the squashed centipede before kicking sand over it. Then, he straightened his duster to make himself more presentable.

  Well, not my problem. It’s not. Romano’s a grown man, and Kaitar is with him and Leigh . . . they’ll be fine.

  A thud from the shack made him jump.

  “Senqua! Keep quiet in there. I’m tryin’ to do you a favor.”

  No answer.

  Ungrateful Enetic bitch. Should just let them have her.

  The mechanical squeal of sand bikes and light-frame rovers rattled the air, jolting right down into the marrow of his bones. Gairy spat, wiped the dribble of saliva from his beard, and lumbered toward his own rover. There, in the back, his Pumer—handed down from great Granddaddy Eizendal—lay in its case. He pulled the weapon free and swung it to his shoulder, carrying it as he’d seen his father carry shovels as a child. It was too much gun for most men to handle, but propped against his wide shoulder, it looked a mere toy, and made him feel better.

  The Scrapper fleet slowed, near enough he could see individual men hunched in the seats, all wearing brown fatigues, sand masks, and goggles. Romano’s rover roared a dozen yards ahead of the others, throwing sand behind its big back tires in a wide plume. Gairy recognized Evrik Niles sitting in the passenger seat, and guessed the Scrapper driving must be Jess Karraetu.

  The Glasstown border mayor raised his arm in greeting as Karraetu eased the vehicle to a stop. The engine’s hum trickled to a low idle, then ceased all together. Both men swung from the vehicle and pushed back their grime-caked goggles. Niles grinned, his teeth red with grit. Karraetu merely nodded once, then went to directing the other Scrappers until the fleet formed a dusty, bristling semicircle around the well.

  Just gotta give the warehouse numbers and Enforcer patrol schedule. Keep Senqua quiet for twenty minutes while they refill, then ask for my water rights. Next spring, I’ll plant here. Corn. Beans. Squash. Have a few goats and chickens. Maybe rent mules or horses.

  “Well, Gairy Reidur!” Niles called, striding toward him, hand outstretched. “You’re still here guardin’ our property, I see.”

  They shook hands. Gairy released his grip. “I am. I hope you brought a crate of Saltang. I’m out.” A sheepish grin broke across his face, most of it hidden by beard and mustache. “Get thirsty, sittin’ out here in the sun all day.”

  “I guess you would at that,” Niles said. “Brynn Aurlin’s here with me. The whiskey’s in the rover he was hitchin’ along with. I’ll have him bring it over once the refill is all done.”

  Scrappers swarmed the well, busying themselves unhooking canteens, unstrapping water barrels, and checking cells. A few went to pissing against the shack.

  Gairy frowned. “Hey! Do that over by the tree. Hell, I’m gonna be livin’ in there and I don’t want piss stink on my house.”

  “Can’t smell as bad as you do,” a hazel-eyed man called back. “You fuckin’ goat!”

  “Baa-aaah!” Another Scrapper smiled, his teeth yellow with tobacco stains. “Just messin’ with you, buddy. No worries.”

  The hell you are, you son of a bitch.

  “Sure. Whatever. Just piss by the tree.” Gairy turned to Niles, who winked at him as if the whole thing had been a big joke.

  He ignored that sly look. “I got the numbers and the shift schedules written down, but if you wanna know the truth, Neiro’s got the Enforcers so shorthanded that—”

  “Hey!” the hazel-eyed man yelled. “Where’s that little bitch at? Niles told us there was a Shyiine woman here with you. She your wife or. . .?”

  “Panezii, help refill.” Karraetu said, motioning him over. “We’re not here to mess around with a woman. I want these rovers and bikes checked, I want the canteens and barrels filled, and I want you all back on and ready to go in ten minutes. You’ll have plenty of time to piss around after we’ve done our job.”

  Niles shrugged. “Rambunctious bunch. But where is that little Shyiine you had out here? You wear
her out and put her to bed, Gairy? Big guy like you, randy as an old billy goat, I bet.” He grinned crookedly.

  Something inside Gairy shrank back, small, hurt, and angry.

  “Aw, now. I didn’t mean nothin’ by that,” Niles said. “Hell, trying to pay you a compliment. Where’s the Shyiine bitch?”

  Gairy shrugged. “She . . . she ran off. Didn’t like scouting, I guess. Here.” He dug around the inside pocket of his duster and produced a grimy slip of paper. “Those’re all the numbers.”

  Niles took the note and read it over. “Hot damn. Old Neiro’s been hoarding those Firebrand cells like a s’rat in a grain silo.”

  “Now, I get my water rights, all written in a nice contract I can hang on the wall.” Gairy waited with an outstretched, empty hand. “Gonna start a farm here.”

  “That so?” Niles glanced back at the Scrappers gathered around the pump. Panezii made obscene gestures as he worked the lever. Water gushed into a barrel, and some of the men laughed. Karraetu cast a long, hard stare their way as he bent to check the Draggin’s tires.

  “Yeah,” Gairy said, hating the Scrappers almost as much as he hated Shyiine. “Where’s the—”

  The shack door banged open and Senqua stalked down the steps, her nilaj bow in hand, an arrow nocked at the string. All the Scrappers turned to watch, their surprised expressions twisting to hungry leers.

  “Senqua, get back inside!”

  “Fuck you, Gairy Reidur. I don’t listen to traitors.” Defiantly, she lifted her chin and faced the mercenaries.

  You’re going to get yourself raped or killed. I can’t stop them. Too many.

  Niles gave a low whistle. “Now, Gairy here said you ran off. I think he just wants to keep you all for himself. Some of the boys here like dark meat.”

  “My men aren’t here to mess around with a woman,” Karraetu said. “Niles, if you want this done, we’ve got to move now before Printz does.” The commander lowered his voice a notch. “I know she’s tempting, but if we’re gonna take advantage of this situation, we need to go. Now. Printz ain’t gonna sit on his ass forever, especially if that asshole Mal-eyio gets word to Dogton. Even if we do catch him, Neiro’s smart enough to figure out what’s happened once he stews on it a little.”

  Senqua sneered at Evrik Niles. “What did you do with Kaitar? With Romano and Leigh?”

  Gairy moved made a grab for the bow, but she darted away, too quick.

  “Don’t touch me, you lying turncoat.”

  “Shut the hell up and give me the bow.”

  “What did you do with them?” Senqua pivoted past his outstretched arm again. “Where are they?”

  “Do what with who?” Niles asked innocently. He looked around. “Anyone know what this little whore is referring to?”

  Several of the men chuckled, a few wolf-whistled. One grabbed his crotch and gave it a tug. “I got who she’s lookin’ for right here. Why don’t you come over on a search and rescue, darlin’?”

  “That’s Romano’s rover! That’s Leigh’s Firebrand! What did you do with them? Where are they?”

  You’re gonna get yourself shot, you dumb Shyiine bitch.

  Brynn Aurlin cackled from a rover. “Gairy, you need to teach this little cunt a lesson. She’s got a mouth you could put to better use than givin’ that kind of lip. Smack that sassy ass a few times, maybe she’ll learn some manners.”

  Before anyone could do so much as grin at the old border mayor’s suggestion, Senqua drew her bow, the arrow fixed toward Brynn Aurlin’s chest. In the space of a heartbeat, a sharp crack and an ensuing spray of sand filled the air.

  The blood drained from Gairy’s face. “Senqua!”

  “Put the weapon down, or next time it’s your head.” Karraetu trained the revolver at the Shyiine’s face. The distance between them—no more than thirty feet—would be an easy shot.

  Senqua hesitated only briefly before throwing her bow to the ground.

  Karraetu motioned with the revolver. “Better just lay the fuck down in the dirt and stay quiet. You’re wastin’ my time, and I don’t like that.”

  “Do it, Senqua,” Gairy said. Thirst burned deep in his throat with sudden, intense agony. “I told you to keep in the shack.”

  Slowly, Senqua lowered herself to the ground, glaring at the Scrappers. “I should have shot you from the window as you rolled up. All of you. But I should have shot Gairy first.”

  “Niles . . .” Gairy forced the words from his constricted throat. “You said no one was gonna get hurt during your coup!”

  “She had a weapon aimed at Byrnn Aurlin. That’s treason. He’s the appointed ruling official of Wrent, thereby a citizen of Avaeliis.” The border mayor shrugged. “And she’s just a filthy Shyiine with a scrawny ass. No great loss if she gets drilled.”

  Gairy clamped his mouth shut, looking away. It didn’t help—Senqua’s stare bore into him anyway, sharp as one of the arrows lying on the ground alongside her bow. Mercifully, she kept her silence.

  Her own fault. Nothin’ I can do. I tried to warn her.

  Karraetu holstered his revolver as quickly as he’d drawn it, then motioned at the brown-clad men. “Get the barrels loaded. Tinn, I want you and J. T. on a bike out looking for that son of a bitch Mal-eyio. Panezii, you and Markey take the other bike. You know what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  A scramble ensued as barrels were strapped back into place, goggles repositioned, sand masks donned, and orders barked.

  “You take point!” someone yelled.

  “We got the rear! Get that spotting scope ready just in case. Never know if Neiro might have already sent his boys out.”

  Laughter.

  “Old fat-ass is still probably wonderin’ what the hell is going on out here.”

  Gairy didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the mercenaries’ smug, grimy faces as they revved their vehicles. In two or three days, Dogton would be under siege, and he’d be there at the Old Tree Well, with water rights, planning his future. He peeked from under the brim of his hat, watching the flies hovering around the well.

  “What about that little Shyiine bitch?” Brynn Aurlin asked. “Should we shoot her or take her along for a bit of fun?”

  “Leave her,” Niles said. “I got some business to finish up with Mr. Reidur here. Brynn, why don’t you bring over that special stock we were savin’ for him for cooperating these past few months.”

  “Sure! I’ll bring it right over.” Brynn Aurlin slid from the rover and moseyed toward a crate tied in the back. He leaned against the side, searching, then held up a shining bottle of Saltang.

  Gairy squinted. Something floated inside the glass flask.

  The hell is that?

  Aurlin sauntered over, wiggling the bottle. “Gairy, look at you. Big as your daddy. I remember him well. Hell, no one else in these parts the size of a mountain, after all.” The older man squinted, casting a shrewd look at his comrade. “Niles . . . you think this big guy maybe has some Druen in him?”

  “Well,” Niles drawled. “I sure hope not.”

  Gairy grunted, a spasm lancing his throat. He wanted a drink. Wanted it damned bad. “I’m no filthy Enetic. I’m Estarian. Just big, that’s all. There’s plenty of big Estarians.”

  “None as big as you, though.” Aurlin grinned, brows arched over his bulging eyes. “None of ’em that looks like their mama maybe fucked a goat.”

  Take it. Just them having fun. Couple more minutes and you’ll have the water rights and be done with this.

  Senqua glowered in the dust, her long braid windblown, coming undone from the rawhide tying it in place. “Filth. Liars and filth is all I see here.”

  “Baa-aaah,” Panezii bleated.

  Karraetu shut him up with a look, a hand resting against his revolver again. “Let’s get goin’, Evrik. We got a lot of work ahead of us, and my boys are getting antsy as hell just sittin’ around.”

  “One last point of business and then we’re on our way, Commander.” Niles waved over h
is shoulder. He dropped his hand, regarding the Shyiine as she huddled in the sand, snarling. The border mayor sighed. “Sorry about your bitch there, Gairy. But on the bright side, it brought to light a little problem in our deal.”

  “Problem?” Gairy frowned. “We ain’t got no problem I can see. I did what you asked. Now, I want my water rights and the Saltang, like you promised.” He held his hand out again, wishing he could plow his fist into that smug face until it was only bloody pulp.

  “But we do, Gairy,” Niles went on. He jerked his head at Karraetu, who unholstered his revolver, aiming it at Gairy’s chest.

  “The hell is this?” Anger and humiliation churned in his belly like a coming storm. “What the hell is the deal, Niles? I don’t want to play games, and—”

  “See,” Niles stepped back, out of reach. “I don’t like Enetics. You can’t trust them. Hell, Gairy, didn’t you prove that? You turned on Neiro like a cur dog and bit him in the ass before he could even suspect you’d gone rabid. Any Enetic would do that, given the chance. Look at your little woman here. She’d have shot Aurlin if Karraetu hadn’t scared some sense into her.”

  “I’m not an Enetic!” The bellow came from deep down, rolling out like thunder across the desert. “I’m an Estarian! And we had a deal!” He swung the rifle from his shoulder, his finger groping for the trigger. “Give me my water rights!”

  “Move, shitface, and you got a bullet right in your head.” Karraetu’s voice remained steady as he spoke. “It’ll take you longer to pull that trigger than it’ll take me to kill you, so think real hard about this.”

  For a moment, Gairy considered just letting the commander shoot him. Letting the humiliation and shame be all over with forever. But he hesitated, and finally dropped the Pumer. The big rifle thudded into the sand and lay there, useless. Several Scrappers hooted in glee, slapping one another on the back. Panezii bleated merrily. Karraetu did not move as he waited, face expressionless, gun still in his hand.