by Jane Kindred
He had to consume a bit of the Meertongue in order for his words to travel forth, and the substance was precious. Nesre wrinkled his nose and licked the used powder from the parchment with a grimace. Perhaps there were restorative properties in the urine. He swallowed and spoke.
“Send your best hunters after the fugitives, but I would like you to acquire the Maiden and exact what knowledge you can of her involvement, through whatever means necessary, and report back to me. But keep the lovely Maiden alive. She may prove useful.”
Ume stretched beside Cree in the large featherbed the pub steward was allotted and stroked her hand over Cree’s bottom beneath the covers. Cree stirred and murmured something into the pillow.
“Sleepyhead.” Ume kissed the back of her neck, and Cree roused a bit more, but not enough. “I’m hungry,” Ume pouted. When Cree didn’t give any further acknowledgment, Ume bit her lightly on the nape.
Cree, wonderfully ticklish, squealed and rolled over. “Did you just bite me? What was that for?” She rubbed the back of her neck.
“I’m hungry, and you left me to my own devices.” Ume sighed dramatically. “What was I to do?”
Cree laughed and threw off the covers, making Ume shiver. “And I see you’re also very happy to see me this morning,” Cree remarked with a wink.
Ume tucked her hands behind her head on the pillow and glanced at the enthusiastic erection between her legs. “Well, I’m always happy to see you, love.”
Cree climbed over her and teased her, holding herself just out of reach as she kissed Ume, and then finally lowered herself onto Ume’s cock with a moan of satisfaction. Ume put her hands on Cree’s hips and pressed deeper into her, watching with delight as Cree’s nipples tightened.
Cree rocked into her with a wavelike motion. “I have the day off today,” she said, and groaned with pleasure. “What do you want to do?”
Ume met her motions with an upward thrust each time she rocked forward. “This works for me, darling.” She grinned up at Cree. “This and food. In fact, if you were to feed me cakes while you were doing that—ooh, yes, that, right there—I’d promise to love you forever.”
Cree’s breathy laugh sent delightful ripples down the shaft. “You’ll love me forever anyway, you…ai, gods…you…minx.” Cree moaned in staccato as Ume thrust into her too rapidly for her to speak, and her toes curled behind her as she leaned forward and took the cock deeper, arms braced against the bed, until at last she shuddered and clamped her mouth shut to keep in the sound of a happy howl.
Ume clutched her around the nape to pull her closer, held her tight around the waist with her other arm, and let go inside Cree with her back arched and her head tilted sharply into the pillow, not caring if her moan was audible. Let the guests talk.
Cree collapsed on top of her as she finished, panting and humming with satisfaction. “Okay,” she gasped. “What else do you want to do?”
Ume giggled, the motion making Cree tremble with aftershock. “Starve.”
They went out for food anyway, eventually. Of course, it was dark by then, but daylight didn’t last long this time of year. Ume snuggled against Cree as they strolled up the wooden walk to a kerum house that served breakfast all day long. It was the sort of uncouth eatery catering to the masses Ume wouldn’t have been caught dead in as the preeminent courtesan of Ludtaht Alya.
Ume drew a heavy sigh. There was nothing to be gained by indulging in regret. She stopped short as someone stepped in front of her path.
The young man doffed his hat—a rather dodgy-looking specimen—and squinted at her. “You that fortune-teller from the pub?”
Cree took a step in front of Ume, pulling her tighter against her side. “Are you in the habit of addressing other men’s wives?”
Ume squeezed her arm. “Cree, darling, don’t fuss.” Cree was always the gentleman, which Ume adored, but her occasional tendency to think like one in actuality could be annoying. “I am,” she said to the boy. “But you’ll have to come by the pub if you want a reading.”
She started to step around him as Cree drew her away, but a group of ruffians emerged from behind them so swiftly that Ume didn’t realize at first she’d been struck. A loud thumping sound impacted against her ear, and as she tried to sort out what it was, she saw Cree taking a swing at the thief on her side, while another stepped in front with a blade held close. He darted his arm forward as if punching Cree in the gut and Cree crumpled to her knees.
Ume opened her mouth to scream, but another blow struck the side of her head, and another her face as she tried to turn to defend against it, and then a musty burlap sack was dropped over her head and her knees pushed forward from behind as her wrists were caught up together in the grip of a leather thong. She hit the ground, knocking the wind from her, and just as swiftly, her assailants grabbed her under the arms and by the ankles, hoisting her and tossing her into a cart drawn by a horse that took off at a galloping pace.
All Ume could think was that Cree wasn’t with her. Cree was lying in the street with a knife wound to the gut, and no one had seen. In the dark, she might lie there all night without help. Even if time weren’t of the essence, it was too cold for that. Much too cold. Ume moaned against the dank-smelling burlap.
It didn’t occur to her to worry about what was going to happen to herself until the cart stopped and her captors dragged her from the back of it by her feet and set her on the ground. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. When they found out what kind of woman she was, it would be worse for her. Ume’s knees buckled, and she nearly wet herself in terror as they hauled her forward blindly into the close confines of a damp-smelling building without speaking.
Her boot heels echoing loudly on the wooden floor suggested the structure was open and empty, and the place smelled of mildew. “I have very unique skills,” she managed with a shaking voice. “I can give you unparalleled pleasure if you promise not to hurt me.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The man who answered wasn’t one of the two who held her. His voice possessed an air of amusement.
As Ume stumbled into the chair they shoved in front of her, one of her captors removed the burlap sack. She blinked in the light of a hanging lantern, her eyes trying to focus on the man leaning casually against a wooden beam and railing before her. Behind him, lamplight gleamed on a moving surface—water. Ume looked up and recognized the paddles of a water wheel. They were in the covered shed of a mill.
The man scowled at his accomplices. “No one told you to rough her up.”
One of them shrugged. “No one told us not to.”
“Go wait by the cart,” he snapped.
“You’re one of the Meerhunters,” Ume realized as they departed.
“The name’s Pike. We met.”
Ume’s fear was slowly receding and anger was surging up in its wake. “Exactly what do you want with me? I’m no Meer.”
“But you know one.”
“I knew one. Long ago. You and your ilk murdered him.”
Pike tilted his head, studying her with sudden recognition. “I saw you there. You were the bait.” His eyebrow lifted. “You were the boy.”
“I was a woman of seventeen summers,” Ume retorted. “You wanted to see a boy, to make Alya’s crime seem more scandalous, knowing it would incense the crowd. Cowards.” She spat on the floor in his direction.
“You seem quite sympathetic to the Meer. Yet you set the trap.”
“I was a vetma, you fool. His, to the soth of In’La, to give them what they wanted, since it was clear it was no longer his rule they desired, but his head. And mine to him,” she said more quietly. He told her, before he’d undone her with the ecstatic power of his possession, that she was the only vetma he’d ever received in his life. And he’d been grateful for the gift.
Ume turned her head, her throat tight with tears she wasn’t about to shed in front of t
his swine.
“So yes on the sympathy, then,” he said wryly. “You’re a Meerist. And there happens to be one here in the far western wasteland. At the same time as you.”
Ume’s mouth opened in surprise as she turned back toward him. “You think I’m involved with this fugitive Meer?”
“You are a Meeric temple courtesan.” He took a tin of chewing tobacco from his pocket and helped himself to a wad, pushing it behind his lip. It was the most despicable habit she’d ever seen.
“You’ve made a mistake. I know nothing about any Meer. The last I saw was Alya’s corpse on the day of the Expurgation—a sight I will be haunted by for the rest of my life. Now release me and return me to my husband. He needs medical attention immediately.”
Pike was quiet for a moment before he spat tobacco juice from between his teeth. “You’re in no position to make demands, sweetheart. Your reputation is infamous, but you seem to be unaware of mine. I’m well known for being able to get the answers I require. Most people unfortunate enough to find themselves where you sit don’t depart of their own volition. They’re usually carried out in pieces and disposed of.”
The churning of fear in her bowels had returned, and Ume twisted uncomfortably.
Pike spat again. “But it so happens my client has specified that you’re to be kept alive.” He flicked his gaze over her as if assessing his options. “Didn’t say in how many pieces, though.”
“I can’t very well give you answers in regard to something I know nothing about. But if you know my reputation, then you know my earlier statement is true. I’m willing to give you the full benefit of my expertise in exchange for my release. And my enthusiasm for any act you desire will appear more genuine than any woman you’ve ever had.”
Pike snorted. “What if the act I desire is to cause you pain and hear you beg for mercy?”
Ume steeled herself not to show fear and gave him a coquettish smile, dropping her voice into the purr. “I can display enthusiasm for that as well if you let me get help for my husband.”
Another stream of vile brown spittle shot between his teeth to land in front of her on the floor. “Husband. You mean the Tom who tends bar at the pub.” Ume was darkly amused that he considered Cree’s relation to her homosexual when he didn’t consciously conceive of Ume as female. Pike shook his head. “I’m not interested in your enthusiasm.” He unbuckled a knife at his side and pushed himself away from the rail. “What I’m interested in is the Haethfalter whose palm you read. Jak na Fyn.”
Ume stiffened as he came close, pressed back against the chair. “What about Jak?”
“It seems he—or is it she?”
“I have no idea.” She flinched as the blade of the knife trailed over her cheek. “I gathered Jak felt it was no one’s business.”
Pike rolled his eyes. “Well, it seems your friend was harboring the fugitive Meer.” He punctuated the sentence with a light jab of the knifepoint under her jaw. Ume’s brow furrowed as she recalled the feathering that marked Jak’s love line. “Ah, suddenly you do know what I’m talking about.” Pike smiled.
“I didn’t, but since you mention it, there was magic around Jak, and I’d wondered about it.”
“Magic.” Pike spat to the side of the chair. “Save your fourberie for the ignorant falenden. What do you know about na Fyn’s plans?”
“Nothing. I only met Jak once.” Ume swallowed as Pike thrust the knife into the flame of the lantern. “What are you doing?” He answered by holding the heated blade against her neck, and Ume jerked back with a cry.
“That’s how it feels on the outside. Imagine how it will feel in.”
The unpleasant thought reminded her that Cree might still be lying in a pool of her own blood. “I won’t tell you anything until I know Cree is being taken care of. If she dies, I’d just as soon go with her, and if I’m dead, I assume you don’t get paid.”
Pike frowned. “What do you mean, if she dies? What’s wrong with her?”
“One of your apes stuck a knife in her and left her lying in the street, is what’s wrong with her.”
“Ai, meeralyá. Fucking incompetents.” Pike jammed the knife into its sleeve on his belt and marched from the room looking fit to administer a beating to his men. From the shouting outside, she wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t.
Minutes later, he returned, arms folded across his broad chest. “Understand this, Maiden Sky. I don’t give a damn about your lover, and I can make you wish you were dead and keep you wishing it for a very long time, so your pathetic attempt at bargaining with me is pointless. But Meerhunters have a reputation to uphold, and mine is impeccable. What we do is simple: we hunt Meer, and we take the heads back to the Delta as bounty. Meerist sympathizers who are complicit in aiding and abetting them can expect to be dealt with severely, and those who persist in withholding information from me can expect that their interrogation will most likely be fatal. But there is nothing to be gained by killing civilians for convenience and leaving them lying about in the streets. That is an invitation to avoid cooperation entirely.”
Ume wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard to convince her he wasn’t bargaining with her, but if it saved Cree’s life, he could pontificate about the righteousness of his calling all he liked. “How do I know you’re not just saying this to get me to cooperate?”
Pike smirked. “Because I have much better means of getting you to cooperate. But I don’t mind doing things the easy way. Exacting cooperation can be bloody business. And then there are the pieces to dispose of, which is a headache I’d rather avoid when I can. But you have my word that she’ll be seen to.”
“I’m afraid your word doesn’t mean much to me.”
Pike shrugged and spat a stream of tobacco juice into the water. “We can always do things the hard way. It’s up to you. I’ve sent my hired men to ascertain what state your lover is in, and if they find her well—or at least reasonably so and being treated—they’ll report back to me shortly. If she isn’t, you’ll soon see for yourself, as I’ve instructed them to collect her.”
Coldness gripped her, partly the unheated room, and partly a terrible certainty that Cree must be dead. How could it be otherwise? Even if they found her alive, they might simply kill her and return with her body.
Pike trimmed his nails with his knife while they waited, obviously wanting her to see the blade and keep the fear of it fresh in her mind. Right now, Ume didn’t give a damn. She listened for the sound of the returning cart, her heart nearly leaping from her chest when it finally arrived.
One reported to Pike when they entered. “No sign of her.”
Pike paused in whittling at his nails. “What do you mean, no sign?”
“What I said. She wasn’t where we left her, and no one nearby seems to be aware of anyone being injured in the street.”
Ume bit her lip. If Cree was gone, she must have been able to walk on her own. Perhaps the wound hadn’t been as bad as Ume feared.
Pike unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll them up. “Your call, Maiden Sky. I obviously can’t speak for your lover’s well-being, but I can give you a detailed prediction of yours should you decide to keep mum.”
The little room was lit by a small fireplace, but the light seemed strange, every glimmer of it casting rays as though Cree were looking at it through a film on a pane of glass. “I want to see Ume. Where’s Ume?” She fought with the woman holding her down, but they’d given her something, some foul-tasting tincture, and she had no strength. And her gut hurt like hell. She surrendered and lay back, and the woman nodded.
“You must rest, or the cure will not work.”
“Who are you? Where’s Ume?”
“I am the Caretaker.” The willowy, fair-haired woman said this as though it made perfect sense, though Cree had never seen her before. “You have come under the hill. Your Ume turns the wheel in the house of stone.”
“What hill?” Cree shielded her eyes from the firelight making a corona behind the Caretaker’s head.
“The hill your kind see and cannot see.”
Cree tried to keep her eyes open, determined to find out what had happened to Ume, but the pull of sleep was too powerful, and the little room drifted away.
When she woke, she was in her own bed above the pub.
“What the hell?” Had she dreamt the strange room and even stranger woman?
Cree sat up, groaning against the ache in her belly. It was as bad as the time… She shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts and looked down at her stomach. Her shirt was open, and a thick bandage wound around her waist. Cree prodded at it gingerly and hissed at the pain, then peeled back the edge to see how bad it was. The cut beneath, just above her scar, had been stitched together as neatly as a darned sock and showed no sign of swelling or infection, and the bandage contained only a bit of dried blood. How long had she been unconscious?
Her stomach growled as if in answer. She and Ume had been on their way to supper.
Cree jumped up, one hand gripping the bandage, and stood hunched over, trying to breathe. Someone had taken Ume. She buttoned her shirt and looked around for her shoes. Whoever brought her here had set them in front of the vanity chair, with her coat draped over the back of it and her cap on the seat.
When she’d pulled them on with effort, Cree made her way downstairs, gripping the railing.
“You’re late for your shift,” the morning bartender groused, and then gaped at Cree. “What happened to you?” He pointed with the bar rag he held when Cree gave him a puzzled look. “There’s blood all down the front of your coat.”
Cree looked down. She hadn’t noticed it in the dim light of the room on the brown wool, but it was glaringly obvious now. “My wife is missing.” Cree came down the stairs as swiftly as she could. “We were attacked last night.”
“Attacked? By who?”
“Thieves, I suppose. They cut me, and I must have blacked out. I’m not sure where Ume is. I need the shotgun under the bar.” She came around the side to grab it. “Do you know what someone might be describing around here when they say ‘the wheel in the house of stone’?”
