by Jane Kindred
Cree wasn’t amused. “You fucked a ship’s captain in the ass all the way to Soth Szofl. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes, Cree. That’s how the ship was powered, in fact. Ass engines.”
For a moment, she was sure Cree was going to throw something at her, and then Cree laughed—a sort of choked, despite-herself, horrified laugh, but it was laughter—and then swore and kicked the support column beside the door. And swore again, louder, as she hobbled to the bed and flopped onto it.
Ume lay back beside her as Cree stared up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, love. I should have told you. I just thought you’d be happier not knowing the details.”
Cree twitched away from her when Ume made a try for her hand. “I think you mean you’re happier with me not knowing the details.”
Guilt wouldn’t allow her to deny there was more than a grain of truth in that. “I suppose that’s part of it, too. There’s an element of feeling powerful—and desirable—in practicing my art. But it’s you I love, Cree. It’s you I desire. And I know I can’t explain that to you in a way that doesn’t feel like I’m just making excuses. I’m truly sorry, love. I hate that I’ve hurt you.”
Cree’s fingers played at the edges of Ume’s. “And then I always prove to you that I can’t handle when you do tell me.”
Ume threaded their fingers together, rolling onto her side to see Cree’s face. “Maybe you’d handle it better if I didn’t keep things from you until you found out by accident. I seem to have been making an unfortunate habit of it of late.” Cree’s shrug said she agreed but wasn’t going to press the point. “I promise I haven’t kept anything else from you. Arvati was the only one.”
Cree squeezed her hand, but it was clear she wasn’t quite ready to let go of her grudge. “You keep using his given name.”
“Habit again. ‘Bend over and prepare for me, if you would, please, Captain Paravar’ doesn’t quite have the same punch as ‘shut up and suck it, Arvati’.”
This time Cree’s laughter was genuine.
The trip up the Anamnesis on the Deltan Pearl took eight days, one daily port of call to give the passengers a few hours to take in the sights of each of the Deltan soths. Ume and Cree stayed on board for most of these. Cree had to admit the Delta was lovely from the water, even at this time of year, but it was a relief not to have to travel through each of the soths on foot—and neither she nor Ume were keen on seeing their former soth of In’La again.
Rhyman was the last of the city-states before the falend—or wasteland—began. The term encompassed the arid lands, but also the moors and highland country beyond. Deltans liked to believe the Delta was the end of civilization, and Rhyman was its last outpost.
Staying onboard the Pearl during the excursions gave them plenty of time to themselves, which they’d been sorely lacking on the Dream. The other advantage was that when they ventured out of their stateroom for sustenance, the dining cabin was mostly deserted and they had their pick of the sumptuous buffets.
Unfortunately, the deserted ship also meant more awkward opportunities to encounter Ume’s captain, and worse, to cross paths with Pike. The afternoon of their last day on the Pearl, Ume proposed facing the one to avoid the other.
“The poor man has no idea what my intentions are,” she explained to Cree in making her case. “I’d hate for him to think what happened between us on The Lady’s Bounty was some kind of scam, or that I’d been making fun of him. I owe it to him to explain my circumstances and to assure him that I haven’t spread any stories about him. You can see on his face that he’s terrified of being exposed.”
“Well, you don’t need me to do that.” Cree flipped through her beverage menu, though they’d both memorized it by now. There weren’t that many options on such a small vessel. “If you really feel it’s important, go ahead. I’ll read.”
Ume pulled down the menu from in front of Cree’s face. “Read what, love? The six mixed drinks available on the Deltan Pearl?”
“I have a book in the cabin,” Cree protested.
“I just think it would ease his mind more if it came from us both.”
Cree snorted. “I can’t imagine why you think that. Do you think he wants to sit there knowing I’m fully aware of how he likes to spend his time behind closed doors? He’s mortified as it is.”
“If he realizes you’re a woman, I expect it will make a great deal of difference. He’ll see that you have no reason to expose his personal life, just as you’d wish from him.”
Cree reached across the table and took Ume’s henna-painted hand, unable to remain irritable for long in the presence of her lovely girl. “Sweetheart, if you really think this is important, I’ll do it. But only for you.” She glanced behind Ume. “Besides, that odious, spitting shit-stain, Pike, just sauntered in and has that look on his face that says he’s found his favorite game. Let’s not be it.” She rose and took Ume’s arm, and they turned in the opposite direction as Pike opened his mouth.
He called out to them as if they weren’t obviously avoiding him. “Going all the way to the capital, are we?”
Though Cree tried to stop her, Ume turned back. “It’s none of your damned business where we’re going.”
“Just being friendly. No need to be hostile.”
Cree tugged at her hand. “Ume, stop talking to him.”
Ume ignored her. “Why have you bothered to stay on, anyway? Wouldn’t it have been more efficient to take the stage from In’La? One would think you’re merely wasting time because you haven’t the slightest idea what you’re going to do when you reach Munt Zelfaal. If you’re going there at all.”
“Oh, I assure you, Maiden Sky, I will find what I’m hunting.” He tapped his breast pocket. “I have the drawing you so helpfully provided to guide me, after all. A resurrected citadel at the top of the mountain will be hard to miss. It’s like a treasure map with a big X in the center. That soft-headed boy was certainly good for something.”
Cree yanked Ume away a bit forcefully as Ume opened her mouth once more. “Don’t. Let it go. He’s enjoying this. Just turn around and walk away from him.”
The slick splat of Pike’s tobacco juice against the cup he carried with him sounded behind them. “There’s one thing that’s been poking at the back of my mind. I’ve been reading through Prelate Nesre’s journal—shipboard life is wonderful for reading, don’t you think…Mistress Silva?”
Cree let go of Ume and spun around, and it was Ume’s turn to hold her back. “You’d better stop there, damn you.”
“I’d wondered where I’d heard your surname before. It’s an unusual one. Not as unusual as Cillian Rede, of course.”
“One more word, and I swear I will flatten you.” Cree rolled up her sleeves, ready to lunge at him, almost wishing he’d push it.
“And then I remembered. There it was in the early entries of Nesre’s diary: the arrest of Cree Silva and Cillian Rede for gender impersonation.”
Cree strode forward, glad of the opportunity to punch the Meerhunter in the snout, but he stopped her with one more revelation.
“I had no idea you’d given birth.” Pike’s eyebrows lifted significantly, and he spat into his cup. “Nesre’s notes go into some rather intimate details.”
Before Cree knew what she was doing, she’d breached the space between them and grabbed Pike by the collar, knocking the cup out of his hand and spattering the wall behind him with tobacco juice as she slammed him into it. “One of those details comes out of your mouth,” she growled, just loud enough for him to hear, “and I’m going to shove that wad of chew down your throat and make you choke on it.”
“Master Silva! Mistress Sky!” Ume’s captain had entered the dining hall at the other end, and he made his way swiftly toward them with an authoritative air. “Is this passenger bothering you?”
Cree loosed her hold on Pike, and stepped back. �
��He insulted my wife,” she said between clenched teeth. “But I’ve handled it. Sorry to alarm you.”
Paravar stroked his fingers down over his whiskers as he trained his unhappy gaze on Pike. “I won’t have my passengers harassed, Mister Pike. I think perhaps your tour aboard the Deltan Pearl is at an end. You can find other accommodation to take you back to meet the Dream.”
Pike dusted himself off and spat on the floor near Cree’s feet, though Cree made no attempt to step back and give him the satisfaction of being moved by him in any capacity. “I’ll find a land conveyance to take me the rest of the way, Captain. I have no wish to make your other passengers uncomfortable. It so happens my business takes me west, and I won’t be returning on the Dream. But I must say, the Pearl has been quite enlightening.”
Paravar looked uncomfortable as Pike ambled away. “I hope this hasn’t marred the trip for you. If there’s anything else I can do—”
“As a matter fact,” said Ume, stepping forward, “we were just coming to see you. Do you have a moment to speak in private?”
The captain flamed to his ears. Ume might think Cree’s presence would make him more comfortable, but for once, she was wrong.
“You don’t need me to hang about while you chat.” Cree put on a polite smile. “I’ll just head back to the stateroom and pick up where I left off in my book.” She turned about before Ume could object, and slipped away. Of course, it hadn’t only been her discomfort with Paravar that had prompted the sudden change of plan. Before Pike slunk off the Deltan Dream, Cree was going to have one last go at him.
She waited at the end of the stateroom passage until he emerged, and her presence brought him up short.
“I thought you’d had enough of me.” Pike walked resolutely ahead to pass her.
Cree grabbed his arm and swung him around. “I want that journal.”
Pike eyed her hand on his arm. “I’m sure you do. It’s quite fascinating. But it happens to be in my possession, and thus my property. If you want to involve the good captain again, I’m sure he’ll have something to say about even one of his pet passengers robbing another passenger on board his ship.”
“What do you want for it?”
Pike laughed. “You couldn’t afford it, Master Silva. Not only is it a recipe book for Nesre’s relics, it contains the known methods for subduing a Meer—everything Nesre attempted that succeeded.”
Cree’s fingers uncurled from his arm. “Subduing…”
Pike’s smirk was absent for once. “Methods he used on the boy to ensure his compliance. You may think my calling is a despicable one, but I remind you that I never harmed the child. Even inhuman and dangerous, he is a child, and I’m not in the business of torturing children. I relinquished him to your charming Ume with a warning for her to be careful, but I relinquished him nonetheless. But while I don’t approve of what Nesre did—to you or the boy—I will not part for any price with the knowledge he gained in the process.”
Cree crossed her arms, rubbing them against a sudden chill. “Then let me see it, just the parts that are relevant.”
“There are no parts that are relevant to you that wouldn’t be needlessly unpleasant.”
“Now you’re concerned with what I find unpleasant?”
“I was baiting you. Just something to pass the time. But trust me when I say you don’t want to read it, and it will have no benefit to you in dealing with the boy. And let me just give you one last piece of advice. I know you feel you have ties to the child—ties that I now understand far more clearly—but you don’t understand what he is. With a written word, in a fit of temper, he could split you open and eviscerate you. Or if he manages to speak after all, he could utter a curse that would rot the insides of every man, woman and child in range—and who knows what his range is. Whatever you choose to believe, know this: he will not always be a child. And when he comes of age, I will hunt him. It’s nothing personal. I may well be saving your life.”
Cree didn’t attempt to stop him again as he departed. Her heart had a caul of cold enveloping it. The Hidden Folk had tried to convince her Pearl was a monster, but they’d been mistaken about the extent to which his visions had affected him. She didn’t believe, in her heart, that Pearl could be what they claimed. But Pike’s words had enough truth to them that she couldn’t dismiss them entirely. Pearl wouldn’t always be a child. And with the things Nesre had done to him in his formative years—and what the Hidden Folk might be doing to him even now—there was every chance he would grow up to be the most dangerous man who had ever lived. Cree might one day be the mother of a monster.
It was all the more reason she and Ume had to find him and get him back. They were his only chance.
Ume’s visit to the captain’s quarters took longer than Cree found comfortable. Sitting cross-legged in the center of their little bed, Cree was pretending to read when Ume returned.
Ume frowned at her from the door. “You disappeared on me.”
“It was already awkward.” Cree closed the book and glanced up as Ume shut the door and leaned back against it. “He didn’t need me there to make it more awkward. So how did he take it?” She couldn’t resist adding, “Your talk took quite a while.”
Ume rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “My jealous husband.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“I told him about my vocation, my history in Soth In’La, and why I felt the need to travel under my old identity for safety. He was very understanding.”
Of course he was. Cree didn’t want to think about just how understanding he might have been.
“He was somewhat understandably disappointed to realize his adventure had taken place with a woman—or rather, that he isn’t likely to encounter Cillian Rede again. He’d grown quite attached to him, it seems.”
“Ume—”
“I told him in no uncertain terms that Cillian would not be reprising his role.” Ume came toward the bed. “I also told him about you, how you prefer to allow others to make assumptions about your sex for similar reasons of safety and livelihood.” Ume climbed onto Cree’s lap, facing her. “He was quite intrigued.”
“Was he, now?” Cree slipped her arms around Ume’s waist.
“He confessed to finding Cillian a bit too pretty for his tastes, despite how much the exchange had meant to him. But he admitted to finding you incredibly attractive.” Ume nibbled at Cree’s ear in the way only she could that instantly reduced Cree to putty in her hands. “He sighed and said, ‘If only I could meet someone with your Cree’s presentation and mannerisms and Cillian’s skills and attributes.’” Ume’s teeth sank into the lobe just the right amount to make Cree moan. “To which I replied that they were, of course, my skills and attributes, and pointed out that someone with your mannerisms was right here. And together we’re rather a perfect package.”
With effort, Cree ducked her head to the side, and out of the immediate range of Ume’s mouth. “Ume! Why would you say something like that?”
“Well, because it’s true, darling.” Ume’s wicked smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. She was enjoying this way too much.
“And now he’s under the impression that he can get two for one! I’m not in your profession. Don’t try to pimp me.”
Ume drew back, the amber darkening in her eyes, and let her arms fall away from Cree’s shoulders. “That was uncalled for. I had no idea you thought yourself so far above me.”
“Ume—” Cree had to topple them both onto their sides to keep her from scrambling away. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t think about how that would sound. I’m sorry. Don’t bristle.” Cree pinned her wrists lightly, and Ume looked away from her but at least didn’t try to escape her touch. Cree had really stepped in it this time. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. You know my history, that I worked the streets sometimes when I was young only because I had no other way to survive, and not because I wanted t
o. I have a very different frame of reference for the experience. But I didn’t mean to dump that onto yours.”
Ume shrugged, a slight concession, though she still looked away. “I suppose I was out of line, making a suggestion like that without thinking about how you might feel about it, even in jest.”
“Was it in jest?”
Ume looked up at her, the deep honey cheeks pink. “No. But I didn’t promise him anything. I just got a little carried away thinking about the possibilities.”
“Are you thinking about them right now?” Cree gave her a sly smile as she flicked her gaze toward Ume’s lap. “I bet you are.” The silky garment rose slightly at the scrutiny.
“You’re a tease, Cree Silva. Unhand me.” Ume made no move to enforce the demand.
Instead of unhanding her, Cree drew her touch softly up Ume’s left arm and over to her chest to pinch her nipple through the silk above the high-waisted Deltan sash. Ume squirmed delightfully, her erection becoming more visible beneath the skirt.
“You wanton thing.” Cree clucked her tongue. “I suppose you want me to mount you, here and now.”
“Oh, goodness.” Ume let out a soft giggle as Cree continued to torment her. “Mount. Such a utilitarian word. Yes, please. Please mount me.” Despite the banality of the term, she managed to make the entire exchange unbelievably sensual, and Cree wasted no time in wriggling out of her pants and divesting Ume of her layers of somewhat baffling underthings.
Ume shivered and moaned as Cree lowered herself onto her pennant cock.
“What was it you wanted to do to that poor Captain Paravar?” Cree kept her voice slow and deep, echoing her motions in Ume’s lap.
“I was rather hoping,” Ume gasped, clutching the bedclothes, “that you’d give him—a bit of much needed discipline.” Her grinding hips kept tempo with Cree’s.
Cree began to move faster, bracing her palms against the bed and pumping herself against Ume. “Oh? And how would I do that?”
“Tell him how very naughty he’s been and”—Ume bit her lip, trying to hold back—“and order him to service me on his knees, of course.”
