Beneath the Eye of God (The Commodore Ardcasl Space Adventures Book 1)

by Payne, Lee

  She drew closer to Ohan and laid her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry that wretched boy took three of your coppers for that which every man knows costs but two. But now your time is up unless you have another."

  "Oh, I have more but they are not mine to spend." At the touch of her hand and the softness in her voice, Ohan's nervousness melted away. He began to babble about his errand and his wondrous companions.

  The girl was gratifyingly impressed. "And how many coppers has this Commodore left in your safekeeping?"

  "He gave me 80. That boy took three so I only have 77 left. I'm afraid the Commodore will be angry. And I still have to buy the supplies."

  "Never mind." She stroked his cheek lightly with her fingertips. "Seventy-seven should be enough. Your Commodore sounds like a kind and generous master. I'm sure he will approve. You can buy my contract." She stood up, retied her tunic and pulled Ohan to his feet.

  "What? Contract? I don't understand."

  She took Ohan's head in her hands and drew his ear close to her mouth. "I'm a prisoner here," she whispered. "It will take years to buy my way free. It's awful here, Ohan. They put their hands all over me. Only you can save me."

  She had pressed him to the wall with her body. He felt the heat of it. Her scent filled his nostrils. It made him dizzy. "Who touches you?" he stammered. "What can I do?"

  "Ye gods," she slipped the purse from the lining of his coat. "You still don't know what this place is? I'm a prisoner here but the Fates have sent you to save me. Let's leave it at that."

  She pulled him from the room and hustled him farther along the narrow hallway. "I am Leahn. My life is in your hands. Keep quiet and let me do the talking." She knocked on a door, paused for a second, then burst through, shoving Ohan before her.

  A plump, middle-aged woman sat eating breakfast in the most amazing bed Ohan had ever seen. It had a red canopy supported by carved pillars. There were tassels and billowing silks everywhere.

  "This gentleman would buy my contract," Leahn said as she scattered the coins from Ohan's purse across the flowered bedcovers.

  Indignation at the interruption alternated with interest in the money as the woman struggled to collect herself. She wiped a dribble of jam from her chin. "We should truly hate to lose you, Leahn, my dear."

  "Look at it." The girl's sweeping gesture encompassed the scattered coins. "That's more than I clear in a year. I'm not good at this. I haven't the temperament for it."

  "You do have a tendency to discourage repeat customers but I'm sure that can be worked out. How much is here, exactly?"

  "Eighty," the girl said. "Actually 77 plus the two in my pocket makes 79 and you owe me 12. Pay me eleven, keep one and that will make 80."

  "Really, dear. I've never sold a girl for less than a hundred. Think of my reputation." She was gathering up the coins in her pudgy fingers with remarkable speed, counting and talking at the same time. "But I can see you have your mind set on leaving. I'm too kind to my girls. It's a fault, I know. But none of us is perfect. I'll keep ten of the eleven I owe you and we'll settle on 90 coppers for your contract. Here's your change, my dear, and may the gods speed you on your way. I hope you and your young, uh . . . man will be very happy."

  She fished a large metal box out from among the bedclothes. She removed a paper which Leahn glanced at, then folded away inside her tunic along with the single coin the woman gave her.

  Still trying to digest the previous scene, Ohan found himself in an alleyway being hustled toward the street. "I think we're OK," Leahn was saying. "She'll spend the rest of the day pulling the bed apart looking for the four coppers I shortchanged her. I would have kept more but she's amazingly quick at counting money. That's why I scattered them."

  At the street corner she turned and faced him. Taking the paper from her tunic, she pressed it into his hand. "OK, sport, I'm yours."

  Ohan stared at the document. "Oh no! I couldn't. I mean I bought you your freedom from that terrible place but we uh . . . we don't keep slaves, we galaxy traders. It . . . it slows us down."

  "Freedom?" She took the paper from his hand and tucked it back into her tunic. "I'm afraid it's not that easy, sport. I've got nowhere to go. With five lousy coppers, I'd soon starve. Or worse. I'd be better off selling myself back into that place, except she probably wouldn't have me. That fat cow said I ate too much. Buying a girl's contract is serious business around here, sport. You can't just toss us aside if you change your mind. Besides, you need a bodyguard."

  "A bodyguard? Why would I need a bodyguard?"

  "Well look at you. Weren't you just cheated out of 80 coppers? And what's going to happen to you when your friend the Commodore finds out?"

  Ohan's eyes went wide. "He'll kill me."

  "See. You need a bodyguard."

  "But . . . but you?"

  "I told you. I can ride and fight better than any three men in this town. At least I will soon. Step in here." She had steered Ohan into another dim alleyway and up to a dusty shop. The windows were caked with grime. A broken one was boarded up. The few items stacked haphazardly on view gave little clue as to what might be for sale inside. Once through the door, Ohan still couldn't tell what they had come to buy. A bit of everything crowded the narrow aisles. He saw harness, books, chain, farm implements, tools and great stacks of closed boxes and crates piled high up into the dusty gloom where the ceiling must be.

  "But it's not the end of the month yet." A dried, bent little man in a long, dark coat and carpet slippers came shuffling toward them. "You've come too soon, Princess. I haven't time today. I'm much too busy."

  "This isn't my day off, Mr. Mumphrey," Leahn said. "I'm leaving town. I've come to collect."

  "Leaving? Oh dear." The little man seemed truly stricken. "I did so look forward to our monthly assignations." He winked from behind bent glasses at Ohan. "I couldn't possibly be seen going into her place of business. My position in the community, you know." Ohan wondered what position the proprietor of this dusty junkheap could possibly hold.

  "This fine young gentleman," Leahn indicated Ohan, "has bought out my contract. I am to serve him as bodyguard. I shall need arms."

  "But to go away?" The little man stroked Leahn's hand. There was the suggestion of a tear in his ancient eye. At her side, he seemed no larger than a child. He suddenly brightened. "This is the last time then?" He looked around and sighed. "But it's the wrong day and I've no time." As near as Ohan could determine, they were alone in the labyrinthine shop. What pressing engagement awaited the little man, he could not guess.

  "I have been building up a monthly credit with Mr. Mumphrey," Leahn explained. "On my days off. No cash changed hands for that fat cow to get hold of."

  "She was saving to buy this." Mr. Mumphrey emerged from the shadows bearing a nasty-looking cutlass. Leahn took the weapon and swung it over her head in, to Ohan's eye, a disconcertingly skillful and deadly fashion.

  "Another three months and it would have been paid for," Mr. Mumphrey sighed admiringly. "Then she would have killed them all."

  Ohan started. "All who?"

  "The fat cow." Leahn returned the sword to the little man. "The men with the sweaty hands. A couple of the girls . . . though maybe not. Most of them were nice. We hadn't worked out the details yet. And then myself."

  "On market day," Mr. Mumphrey beamed. "When a big crowd was in town. It was a good plan."

  "It's a terrible plan," Ohan said indignantly.

  "Actually it was only a fair plan," Leahn admitted. "It lacked focus."

  "It was vengeance and that's always satisfying," Mr. Mumphrey said. "But it was vengeance on most of the wrong people."

  "That was a flaw," Leahn said.

  "Except for that, it was a good plan," the little man cackled. "And vengeance on the wrong people is better than no vengeance at all."

  "It was the best we could think of," Leahn said.

  "Actually," Mr. Mumphrey said, "it was an alternate plan. My favorite was the one where the prince rides in and c
arries you off to his castle." He peered over his dusty glasses at Ohan. "I don't suppose this is he?"

  Leahn too, was surveying Ohan critically. "No," she said. "Not exactly. This is another alternate plan, I think."

  "So how may I help you?" the little man asked. "You do have credit, even if it's not enough to buy the cutlass."

  "I'll want two of the throwing knives in leather gauntlets and that big old sword in the next to last room."

  "Which sword is that?"

  "The big one. It's been there gathering dust for years. You said yourself you'd probably never sell it as there's no one around here tall and strong enough to swing it anymore."

  Mr. Mumphrey was not enthusiastic. "Maybe we can work a deal on the cutlass. Your young friend will doubtless lend you a few . . ."

  "We have five coppers between us." Leahn laid them out on the counter. "That's all. You and I chose the cutlass because it was short enough to work well in close quarters back at the brothel. Now the plan is changed. I want the sword." She ran her fingers through the little man's sparse white hair. "Hugo," she cooed, "this is Leahn. After all we've meant to one another, you are the only one I can turn to. You must help me."

  "You take unfair advantage, Princess," Mr. Mumphrey grumped as he scooped up the five coppers. Leahn kissed the top of his head and disappeared into a back room. "Never mix lust with love, young man," he said to Ohan. "And keep both separate from business." Then he smiled absently. "But there are, rarely, bargains that just don't fit on the balance sheet."

  Leahn emerged from the other room with a dagger gauntlet strapped to her wrist, another at her ankle. She was lacing an intricate leather belt around her waist. It held a long scabbard at an angle across her back from which protruded, a foot above her right shoulder, the hilt of a giant sword.

  Ohan had been wondering about Leahn's attire. Her short tunic seemed wildly inappropriate for general outdoor wear, even in this warm climate. He had not thought of a way to tactfully broach the subject. Now the scabbard harness did much to solve the problem. Its straps over her shoulders and between her legs met and cinched tightly into the belt at her waist. Her long legs, he noted appreciatively, remained bare.

  Mr. Mumphrey was equally taken by the spectacle. "Oh my," he murmured, "it does fit nicely. Perhaps it has waited all these years just for you, Princess."

  Leahn pressed the hilt downward and to one side. The scabbard snapped open. She drew the dull silver blade, the longest Ohan had ever seen, slowly over her right shoulder, taking care not to bring down a stack of crates.

  "It rests lightly in your hands, Princess. Do you know the weapon's secrets?"

  "I practiced with it sometimes while you slept, Hugo. I played with similar blades as a child, though not as long and fine as this. Properly wielded, the edge will cleave a man. The dull side will break his back." She set the blade carefully back in the scabbard which snapped shut around it. "You do not regret our bargain, Hugo?"

  "No, Princess." He reached up to take her hand as they walked to the door. "There are many ways to count up value. Coin is earned and spent. A pleasant memory is more rare and lasts the longer for it." He opened the door for them, then straightened and kissed Leahn's hand. "I shall always remember you, Princess." He smiled sadly. "Always."

  ***

  The tavern was one of several, neither the largest nor the closest to the market square. Those other establishments were frequented by the farmers and traders who came to buy and sell. This tavern, farther from the center of town, attracted both townspeople and those who had come greater distances, often on darker errands than the trading of fowl and cabbages.

  Ohan peered through the open doorway into the darkened interior, half hoping the Commodore might be gone, already hearing his hearty laughter coming from the far end of the bar. Ohan swallowed with difficulty. Only a few hours earlier he had been entrusted with 80 coppers for safekeeping and had been sent to buy provisions. He was returning with no money, no provisions and a young woman armed with a very large sword who insisted she was his bodyguard. Worst of all, he was not at all sure how it had happened. Where was he to begin his explanation?

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, he saw the Commodore holding forth at one end of the half-filled bar. The twins sat chatting with some men at a table against the wall.

  "Ah, there's my lad," the Commodore shouted across the room, "returned from the market. Come let me buy you a beer to wash the dust from your pipes."

  "Thank you, sir. But first I have to explain how I . . ."

  "No, lad. First you must introduce us to the young woman who seems to be following you around."

  With a start Ohan realized that Leahn had come with him into the tavern and now stood directly behind him. "Oh yes, of course," he stammered. "This is the Princess Leahn. She uh . . ."

  "I serve master Ohan as bodyguard," Leahn said.

  Even the Commodore was taken aback. "By Odin's beard," he said. "You have had a busy morning. But I don't see that the purchase of a few loaves of bread requires an armed escort, even one so fair as this. Allow me to buy you both a drink."

  "Folks may not be particular wherever you come from, stranger," a dark man halfway down the bar snarled at the Commodore. "We don't drink with whores around here."

  Ohan was aghast. "Oh, sir," he said to the Commodore. "She is truly a princess."

  "I'm sure she is. It's been my experience that well over half the fallen flowers I have encountered in my travels have been of royal blood. We'll have two beers for my friends, innkeeper."

  "You must be hard of hearing, fatso," the dark man said as he advanced toward them along the bar. "Your 'fallen flower' is more like a blueapple. The skin looks smooth and sweet but the inside is all fiber and thorn."

  "I know you," Leahn said to the dark man. "Have a care for I like you not."

  "Fiber and thorn beneath that smooth skin. It takes a good deal of beating to squeeze even a drop of sweetness out. She belongs in a house down by the square, not here with honest men."

  "Let's all have a drink and discuss this," the Commodore said. "My treat."

  "Sure. I'll drink with you," the dark man snarled, "right after I drag this whore back to where she belongs."

  "Don't touch her!" Ohan found himself shouting. "I've bought her contract. She's mine."

  "Then you've made a bad investment, furball." The dark man had a knife at Ohan's throat. "I've a lot more sweetening to do on this one. And I've yet to teach her to cry."

  "You put your life at peril ere you threaten my master," Leahn said quietly, her hand steady near her right ear.

  "Are you sure I can't buy anyone a drink?" the Commodore asked.

  "First I'll skin your fuzzy little friend, then I'll have his whore right here on the bar. No sense wasting two coppers when I can . . . " The dark man stopped talking as his head thumped onto the floor. His body slowly collapsed into a heap beside it.

  Leahn wrenched her sword from the wine cask where it was imbedded and leaped onto the bar. "With whom have I bloodfeud in this scum's death?" she shouted.

  The innkeeper, a round bald man, shook his head and laid his club back under the bar. "I think none will claim bloodkin to that one," he said. "But that was a good wine cask."

  "I'm sure suitable payment can be arranged," the Commodore said. "Allow me to help you down from there, my dear." He extended a hand to Leahn. "I'm seldom one to criticize and I hope you won't be offended if I offer a suggestion purely in the spirit of constructive criticism. I believe you would have decapitated that cask as cleanly as you did our late friend if you had not lowered your elbow at the end of your swing."

  "It looked more like her left hand to me," a man sitting with the twins volunteered. "Too far over on the hilt."

  "Stance was wrong, too," a man at the bar said. "Feet should be at 45 degrees to your foe."

  "You may be right," the Commodore said. "Ohan, you look a bit pale and I don't suppose you have enough left of my 80 coppers to settle fo
r the damage to the wine cask? No? I thought not. No provisions either? You do need a drink, lad. Erol, will you please settle up and buy us all another round."

  "And now, my dear," he said turning to Leahn, "do take another swing at that cask and this time, check your feet, watch your grip and don't raise your elbow quite so high."

  Chapter 4

  Ohan had seen horses before. But never this close. They were larger than he expected, and less friendly.

  There had been a herd of mares near the school. He had often seen them pulling wagons along the road. The stallions, with their overlapping scales and clawed feet, were far less cooperative. They never consented to be hitched to anything. He had marveled at the drawings of mounted white warriors in his history books but those were tales of long ago in lands far from the forest.

  He knew that the great beasts roamed the rocky plains in large herds and that, while they could certainly forage into the forest if they chose to, the cats prevented them from gaining a permanent foothold there, not by attacking the adults who were far too large, but by sneaking in and carrying off the foals soon after they were born. There was, in fact, a whole series of children's stories handed down among his people, which featured the clever forest cats continually outwitting the fierce but dim horses.

  That was all textbook and legend, however. What he faced now was a very large creature that eyed him suspiciously from beneath an armored brow. And Ohan wasn't feeling too well to begin with. There had been a farewell party at the tavern last night. It had left him, as close as he could tell, near death.

  "They sense fear," the Commodore said as he heaved himself aboard his own mount. "Look him square in the eye and pretend you know what you're doing."