PARADOX II

by Rosemary Laurey

  Bran laid his cards face down on the table. "You wish to wager a person?" His tone was bland, though Nova wasn't fooled. He was furious.

  "A servant," Evi said. "Trust me, he's a willing participant in this matter."

  "Do you engage in this behavior often?" The faint flutter of Bran's cards told her he was nervous about this hand.

  "Well, not often--"

  "A servant? What would I need with another servant?" Ginder laughed as he indicated the three well dressed young men lined up behind him. They'd attended to his every need from lighting his cigars to supplying him with ample quantities of food and drink during their long game. "I have another ten just like these at home."

  Nova's gaze centered on Evi and her skin crawled. When a man was wagered in a card game, it was a good guess he was a slave. Servants were paid employees while slaves were considered possessions, chattel. This man had to be a slave if Evi was going to use him in a bid. She'd never heard of a servant who would willingly allow their employer to abuse them in such a fashion.

  She forced her expression to remain impassive and reshuffled her cards as if the conversation were of no concern to her. She knew well the bonds of slavery and could not, in good conscience, allow this man to remain in Evi's possession.

  "I've no problem with allowing Master Evi to place his servant on the pile." She gave a languid wave toward the money in the middle of the table. "I could always use more help around the house."

  She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Big lies had crossed her lips on numerous occasions; however, this one was one of the biggest. She barely had a house, let alone servants, but these men wouldn't know that. After she'd won this hand, she'd take him to her home, hire him to help fix up the house and then send him on his way with a full belly, a new set of clothing and a few coins to aid his journey. It was the least she could do to relieve a fellow victim of the hard times.

  Evi straightened and for the first time his gaze veered from her bosom to her face. "Thank you, Mistress Nova. Kelwyn has been an exemplary servant for some time and, should I lose, he will make a loyal servant to you as well." His earnest expression and passionate speech gave him away. Unlike the others, he held something of value in his cards.

  Ginder cast a leering glance at her breasts while his hand crept across the table toward her. "You seek a man, Nova?"

  She pretended not to notice his behavior as she added her coins to the pile. "Indeed I do not." Silently she cursed her exposed shoulders and enhanced bosom thanks to her corset. Exaggerating her feminine charms was a surefire way to distract male card players, and a distracted player was a sloppy player. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

  A few seconds later she felt Ginder's hand grope her thigh. Resisting the urge to spit in his face, she slid her bodice knife from its sheath between her breasts with a practiced flick of her wrist. She pointed it at his throat and her gaze impaled his. "Kindly remove your hand from my leg, Master Ginder." She gave him a cold hard smile. "I'd like to keep our game friendly and your blood off my winnings."

  Bran laughed while Evi's eyes threatened to pop out of his head. His gaze was fixed on the unwavering steel blade a hair's breadth from Ginder's throat. Nova waggled the blade when Ginder's hand tightened on her thigh.

  "Woman, I was only pretending." He released her, then straightened to move away from the lethal tip. "Why does your kind always overreact?" With shaky hands, he picked up his cards and began to shuffle them.

  Bran tossed back the remains of his drink. "She's got you, Master Ginder." He set the squat glass on the table with a broad grin.

  "Shut up, fool," the merchant snarled.

  Nova slid her knife back into the removable sheath built into her corset. The slim handle created a delicate jeweled decoration against the plain black velvet bodice of her corset cover. Looking at it, no one would be able to tell it was a weapon, which was exactly why she'd purchased it last year at a market in Malian. At all times she kept it close at hand and this evening was no exception.

  "Gentleman, I call," she said. "Lay them on the table."

  Bran dropped his cards in a haphazard fan before turning his attention to the woman in his lap. Nova ran her experienced gaze over his hand. One low pair and one goddess, his hand was not even close to being a winner.

  One down, two to go.

  Ginder grunted his displeasure and tossed his cards onto the table. She scanned them. Nothing. Not even a master card or a lowly pair of twos. She dug her nails into her palm in an effort to contain her excitement.

  One more...

  Evi clutched his cards in both hands, his gaze glued to the losing hands of the other men. He licked his lips then gave a triumphant bark of laughter as his gaze met hers.

  "I believe I win. One pair, two masters." He laid his cards on the table with a flourish and, for a second, Nova couldn't breathe. Her gaze skipped over the cards, once, twice, not quite believing what she saw.

  "Aren't I destined to be lucky this evening?" He leaned forward to rake in his winnings when Bran grabbed his arm.

  "I believe Mistress Nova has yet to show us her cards. Are you so sure you've won, friend?" His voice held a note of warning.

  All three men turned toward her, their gazes riveted on the cards she held close to her chest. With her heart in her throat, she lowered the cards to the table and spread them so everyone could see the two pairs, the two master cards and the goddess she held.

  She'd done it. She'd won.

  Nova could barely breathe. Her senses were so focused on the cards she scarcely heard Bran give a snort of laughter, though she did feel the congratulatory slap on her shoulder that threatened to knock her off the chair. She looked up in time to see Ginder's envious glare before he turned away and muttered something uncomplimentary.

  Only Evi was silent. He'd shrunk into his chair and looked miserable, horrified and defeated at the same time. The way his gaze shifted about the room, she had no doubt he'd have taken her winnings and run if he'd thought he could get away with it.

  Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she twisted in her chair to retrieve the leather bag that served as her tote. "Gentlemen, I'd like to thank you for the masterful game." She opened the bag and pulled out a silk scarf that she lay across the table. She stood and began transferring her winnings into the center of the scarf. "This has been a most enjoyable and profitable evening."

  Ginder grabbed her forearm, causing her to drop a few coins. "You won't even give us a chance to win back our losses?" he demanded.

  "Not this evening." Nova nodded toward a partially opened window. The sky was still dark, but soon the eastern sky would herald the coming of the sun. "It's late and I'm very tired."

  "But you must give us a chance to regain our losses." Evi's tone was strident and he leaned toward her, desperation written on his face.

  She glanced out the window again. Time was wasting and, while she had no intention of playing cards with these men again, it might do well to fool these men into thinking she'd return tomorrow.

  She met his gaze with what she hoped was an inviting smile. "If you insist, Master Evi. Please meet me here this evening one hour after sundown. We'll resume our seats and see who is the best strategist for a second night."

  She dumped the rest of her winnings into the scarf and tied the ends into a bundle. Bran probably had an inkling of her plans, but he'd never give her away. She shoved the bundle into her tote and slung it over her shoulder. The weight of her winnings threatened to break the worn leather strap. Lucky for her she didn't have to walk very far.

  "Now Master Evi, if you'll be so kind as to direct me toward my new servant, I will be on my way to bed." She caught the look of irritation that flashed across his face before he masked it with a cool smile. Yes, she would be well served to keep her eye on this one.

  "As you wish." He rose from his chair, taking care to brush the wrinkles from his tailored pants before retrieving his cape from the hook by the door.
"If you'll follow me, mistress."

  Nova nudged Bran's arm, dragging his attention away from the prostitute's ample bosom. "Will you accompany me, Master Bran?"

  He nodded, then whispered something to the young woman in his lap. She giggled and stood, allowing him to rise.

  Nova retrieved her cloak and gave Ginder a parting nod that he returned with great reluctance. Guess they weren't parting friends. She quashed a grin as she turned and followed Evi from the room.

  The private game room they'd left was situated in the back of the Laughing Gryphon Gaming Salon. The secluded location of the private rooms ensured maximum privacy and anonymity for the high stakes players. There were several exits that would enable someone to escape unnoticed by the patrons of the establishment in the main salon.

  Evi led them through one of the larger gaming rooms and Nova wasn't surprised to see it devoid of players at this late--or very early--hour. Three women wielded brooms on the expanse of polished floor while several men were perched on ladders to clean the glittering chandeliers. A variety of game tables were arranged around the room and all were tidy. The chairs for the patrons were turned upside down on the tables to make the sweeping easier.

  The bartenders were polishing glasses behind the bar while the cashiers counted the days' take, safe in their wrought iron cages at each end of the room. Judging from the upscale furnishings, the Laughing Gryphon appeared to do a good business.

  When they approached the entrance a beautiful attendant resplendent in black and red silk opened the door. With Bran bringing up the rear, the threesome exited into the cool crisp morning. Overhead the stars were bright and Nova took a deep breath, eager to rid herself of the stench of cigars and booze. They walked down the wide front steps and Bran grabbed one of the brass torches to light their way.

  She pulled her cloak over her shoulders against the cold air. After securing the closure, she checked to ensure she could reach her knife with ease. She had a small fortune tucked into her tote and had no intention of losing it now.

  Evi led them to the south end of the building to a gravel lot in front of the stables. A neat row of coaches was beside the stable and on the far end was a peddler wagon that looked out of place among the expensive conveyances. It was painted dark gray and the closed compartment on the back was tall enough for a man to stand in. There were no markings to indicate a traveling merchant used it. How curious.

  Their guide led them around the back of the wagon to a narrow door. Her eyes widened at the sight of the numerous locks and chains that held it shut. The door and the molding around it was a lighter color than the rest of the wagon, indicating it had been recently replaced.

  "Mistress Nova," Evi spoke. "Since we'll be playing again tomorrow evening maybe it's better if I keep him with me until--"

  "That won't be necessary." Nova nodded toward the locks. "If you'll open the door, please."

  His thin lips tightened and he withdrew a ring of keys from his pocket. As he did so, two men exited the stables and headed in their direction. Nova could feel Bran tensing with each step they took.

  "Boss?" The tall blond one gave a wide yawn.

  "Open the door, Ber." Evi threw the keys at his chest, forcing the man to step back in order to catch them. "Dreg," he spoke to the second man, "get ready."

  Nova glanced at Bran's expressionless face. Only his eyes were alive and alert as they moved from man to man, assessing them, as the blond unlocked the door. After the blond removed the last chain, he let it slide to the ground in a rattle of iron against iron. The door swung open and Bran hoisted the torch higher to illuminate the interior.

  The floor of the wagon was littered with dirty straw and the stench of human waste and rotted food was overpowering. Against the back wall stood a man clad in filthy rags and dirt. He was quite tall, his head stooped to avoid hitting the roof. His dirty tangled hair obscured most of his face with the exception of his eyes. Hatred burned hot in their glittering depths. If looks could wound, Nova knew she'd be dead where she stood. His lip curled when his gaze settled on Evi and he emitted a low growl.

  The one called Ber climbed into the wagon and the so-called servant moved forward in an aggressive lunge, stopped short by the thick chains that tethered his wrists to the wagon wall. His ankles were cuffed as well, the chain so short he'd be unable to walk far even if he were to get free.

  "This is what you call a servant?" Nova spat.

  "Yes, Kelwyn has served us well." Evi smirked; his gaze was fixed on the chained man.

  Evi enjoyed this man's humiliation. Nova's stomach churned. There was nothing she despised more than slavery. She'd spent almost six years as a slave before she'd managed to buy her freedom just over a year ago. Still, she had nightmares of the degradation she'd been forced to endure during her time of captivity.

  "Do you treat all of your servants as such?" Her tone was flat.

  "Kelwyn must be beaten to obey my commands," Evi shot back.

  "Release him."

  "No."

  Dreg tossed Ber a short wooden club that had been hanging on a hook near the door. Ber advanced toward the chained man, the club held in a striking posture. Kelwyn's stance didn't alter; he continued to lean against the chains, pulling at them with all his might. Beneath the dirt and rags, muscles bulged with the strain.

  "You'll need to keep him chained--" Evi was saying.

  Ber moved closer, the club held higher. If he swung at Kelwyn...

  "I said release him." Nova's voice was hard, unflinching. "You put him on the table and you lost. He's no longer your responsibility, Master Evi, he's mine."

  "Mistress--"

  The sound of wood striking flesh caused her to look in time to see Ber raise the club for another strike. Putting aside any thoughts of self-preservation, she leapt into the wagon and darted between the two combatants. The club whooshed through the air and narrowly missed hitting her shoulder. Whipping out her blade, she pointed it at Ber's nose.

  "Back off or you'll be breathing through a hole in the center of your face," she snarled. Behind her, she felt Kelwyn standing close. The stench of his unwashed body was so overpowering that her eyes were beginning to water and she imagined she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck.

  Ber glanced at Evi and out of the corner of her eye Nova caught his imperceptible nod. Ber moved away and, as he did so, lowered the club. The message in his eyes promised retribution for both her and the man she protected. Satisfied the threat had passed, Nova headed for the door.

  "Release him," she spoke to Evi. "I will secure--"

  A snarl and a thud had her swinging around in time to see Kelwyn fall to the filthy straw, a victim of a single blow to the head. He lay motionless, his arm outstretched as if to seek her help.

  Rage flared and without a second thought, Nova felled Ber with a sharp kick to the side of his knee. With a sickening crunch and a scream of pain, the man went down hard, narrowly missing the overflowing slop jar. Still screaming, he rolled on the floor, clutching his knee.

  "You broke me fuckin' leg!" he howled.

  "No, but by tomorrow you'll wish it was broken." She stepped over the writhing man. Eschewing the steps to leap to the ground, she forced Evi to step back a few feet. "Get out of my sight," she snarled at him. She replaced the knife and picked up the keys where they sat on the top step and flung them at the one called Dreg. "Release him immediately."

  "Miss--" Evi spoke.

  Bran placed himself between them. "Now, runt." His tone was mild, but Nova could tell he wanted Evi to make a move against him.

  Frustrated yet defeated for the moment, Evi shot her a hot glance before he turned on his heel and stalked toward the main doors.

  "He'll be back." Bran didn't sound as if he minded going for another round.

  "Indeed he will." She headed toward the stables. "Make sure this one gets Kelwyn unlocked while I retrieve my cart. I want to get out of this godforsaken place before the sun comes up."

  "Aye." />
  The short walk cooled her temper and she was marginally calmer when she entered the relative peace of the stable. It took only a few moments to locate the stable master from whom she'd purchased a small hay cart and a mare the night before. After giving him instructions to bring it around front as soon as possible, she returned to the peddler's wagon.

  Bran was inside, crouched by the unconscious man. Everyone else had gone.

  "He feels warm," he said.

  "Fever?"

  "Could be." He wiped his hand on his pants as he stood. "Whatever it is, you'll want to take care with it. You don't want him dying on you."

  The clop of hooves and the rattle of her cart heralded the arrival of the stable master.

  "Here y'ar, mistress." He dropped the lead rope over the wheel of the peddler's wagon, then peered inside. "Whatcha got in dere?"

  "A man in need of help. Can you secure me blankets, a cloak and some food and ale?" She removed a gold coin from her cloak pocket and held it up so that the man could see it. She was well aware she was offering him more money than he'd probably earn in a fortnight. The better the pay, the better the service, was her opinion.

  His eyes widened and he bobbed his head. "Y-y-yes miss, right 'way." He handed her his lantern and rushed away to do her bidding.

  Bran eased the unconscious man onto his back. "This Kelwyn is a big guy," he said.

  "Indeed." Nova set down the lantern and climbed into the wagon.

  He was tall, at least several inches taller than she, and was broadly built. Even though it was obvious he'd been sorely misused, he looked strong. His upper body was corded with a thick layer of muscles, though he wasn't a bulging brute like a soldier or a blacksmith. She crouched beside him and pushed a tattered section of his shirt aside to reveal the abraded skin stretched across his ribs. Judging from the marks on his body, he'd been treated badly for several months at least. Some of the bruises and whip marks were old while others were still fresh. But with a few weeks of good meals and ample rest, this man would be back in fighting form.

  Bran cursed beneath his breath as she covered him up again. "What are you going to do with him?"