Scars and Swindlers

by Val Saintcrowe

  “Hadn’t heard of him until the Deux of Madigain tipped you off?” said Sefoni in a low voice.

  “This,” said Chevolere, “is Ziafiata Abrusse, street queen of the Abrusse crime family, and it’s her territory you’re working in. She doesn’t like it when people step on her toes, and she can be a bit… brutal when it suits her. I wouldn’t make her angry if I were you.”

  Ziafiata gestured with her pistols. “Why don’t you both have a seat?”

  Haid sighed heavily and Sefoni sighed too, and then they walked over to the couch where Ziafiata had gestured and sat down.

  “Don’t worry about your servants,” said Ziafiata. “They are no longer in this wing, but we did not harm them.”

  Chevolere came to stand next to Ziafiata, and he put his arm around her possessively but he didn’t say anything.

  Ziafiata was obviously the one running this show. Perhaps Chevolere was on her leash, some sort of lapdog lover. Sefoni couldn’t say, but she could see that there was an easy intimacy between them, and she wondered if she could exploit that if she needed to.

  “Is it true you’re planning on stealing something in my city?” said Ziafiata.

  “That’s what Madigain told you?” said Haid.

  “It doesn’t matter where this particular rumor came from, does it?” said Chevolere. “Is it true? I understand that’s what you do, Lord of the Dead, steal things.”

  “I swear,” said Haid, giving Chevolere an impish grin, “you rob one king’s tomb, and you’re Lord of the Dead for the rest of your life.”

  Chevolere’s own smile deepened. “I like him, Ziafiata. It’s really too bad that we’re in this situation. I think we might all be friends otherwise.”

  “You can’t steal in my city,” said Ziafiata. “Any stealing goes through my family. Even the Caputio family is subservient to my family now. I am the street queen of Rzymn, and I take encroachment on my queendom rather seriously.”

  “So, what’s about to happen, then?” said Haid. “We’ll promise not to steal, you’ll leave us, and then we’ll break our promise—no honor amongst thieves after all—and then—”

  “Then I’ll kill you,” said Ziafiata, gesturing with her pistols. “After that response, I think I may have to kill you now. It’s a pity, because this creamy couch will be ruined, and my good relationship with the owners of this inn will be also be ruined, but…” She shrugged.

  Sefoni shook her head. “If you try to kill us, I’ll be forced to kill you.”

  “Oh, Chevolere, we didn’t check her for weapons,” said Ziafiata. “How positively silly of me to underestimate you simply because you’re a woman. I’m frankly ashamed of myself.”

  “Up then,” said Chevolere. “I’ll pad her down.”

  “The blaze you will,” said Haid mildly.

  “You won’t find anything anyway,” said Sefoni. “I won’t need weapons to kill you.” She said it plainly, without any hint of bragging but in a tone that conveyed her seriousness.

  Ziafiata assessed her for a moment, and Sefoni could see that the other woman believed her.

  “You know,” said Haid, “it occurs to me that perhaps this doesn’t have to become violent. Couldn’t we negotiate?”

  “Negotiate how?” Ziafiata was still looking at Sefoni.

  “A percentage?” said Haid. “Say, ten percent of whatever I steal, directly to you? As gratitude for allowing us to operate in your queendom.”

  Zifiata’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, if I agree to such a thing, then this will open me up to others encroaching on my territory and wishing for some sort of financial agreement.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” said Haid. “They do the work, you make a bit of money for doing nothing except looking the other way. Even if my wife here wasn’t extraordinarily lethal, you’d exert a good deal of effort in killing us. As it stands, you’d never survive, and it would be very inconvenient to us to have to dispatch you.”

  “You’re very confident in her,” said Chevolere.

  “I have reason to be,” said Haid.

  “Well, I have reason to be confident in Zia,” said Chevolere. “But I also must say that I’m not enamored of bloody messes and lugging about dead bodies, so if we could avoid killing them…?” He shrugged at the street queen.

  “You think we should take their offer?” said Ziafiata.

  “I think twenty percent and not a bit less,” said Chevolere.

  Haid shrugged. “Fifteen.”

  Chevolere and Ziafiata exchanged a glance.

  “How do you kill if you don’t use weapons?” said Ziafiata to Sefoni.

  Sefoni regarded the other woman and made a split second decision that it was worth it to reveal her power. She flicked her wrist and her hand became a ball of bright flame.

  Ziafiata staggered backwards. It was only Chevolere who kept her upright.

  “Well,” breathed Chevolere. “I think fifteen percent is a bargain.”

  “Yes,” said Ziafiata. “Yes, quite.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  MAIRLI STARED OUT at the expanse of the city of Rzymn, buildings up on stilts, their lights reflecting on the water. It was beautiful, and she hadn’t been to Rzymn since she was a very small girl. She’d been put to bed early then. It had been when her mother was still alive. After her mother’s death, her father hadn’t brought them here anymore. He hadn’t brought them anywhere.

  Anyway, she’d never seen the city at night, and she was charmed by its glitter and grace. She drew in a breath of the sea-salt air, feeling as if she was drawing the city into her lungs.

  “I’m sorry,” said a voice.

  Mairli didn’t look up. She recognized the voice, and she knew it was Tristanne. She was standing out here, at the dock, two blocks down from their inn, and she had thought Tristanne had gone upstairs to their rooms along with Cadon and Pairce.

  Apparently, however, the other woman was here.

  “You said,” continued Tristanne, “that the next time I tried, I should start with apologizing.”

  Mairli uttered a low, disbelieving chuckle. “Well, that was before.”

  “Before what?”

  Mairli looked up now, because Tristanne was next to her, looking out over the water, hands shoved into the pockets of her trousers. Her bodice was cut low, showing off her high, round breasts, and her face was in profile beneath her wide-brimmed hat. Her upper lip was in shadow with the rest of her face, but Mairli could see it. Mairli’s mouth went dry and she couldn’t speak.

  Tristanne turned to her, tugging her hat off her head. She ran a hand through her hair. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  “Before that stunt with the girl in your house, when you said that I was a threat to you and made me watch you put your mouth on her little, rosy nipples.”

  “Rosy,” said Tristanne, nodding. “They were rather rosy.”

  Mairli slowly shook her head at the other woman. “You’re impossible.”

  “You were attracted to her too,” said Tristanne. “And anyway, that’s all I did with her, what you saw. I paid her for it, and there was nothing between me and her. I just did it to… to hurt you. I never bedded her, not really.”

  “I can’t decide if that’s worse or better,” said Mairli.

  It was quiet.

  “I am sorry, though,” said Tristanne.

  Mairli looked back at the reflection of the lights on the water.

  “More than sorry,” said Tristanne. “Wretched. Penitent, even.”

  Mairli snorted.

  “Listen, Mairli, I’ve been thinking,” said Tristanne.

  “I want you to go away.”

  “Can I just say this first?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m an imbecile.”

  “You are,” Mairli agreed. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to bed.” She turned to walk back up the deck toward their inn.

  Tristanne’s hand shot out and caught her by the arm. “Wait. Please?”


  “I don’t owe you anything. Let go of me.”

  “I know you don’t owe me, but it will only take a minute, and… please?”

  Mairli wrenched her arm out of Tristanne’s grasp and planted her hands on her hips. “Quickly, then.”

  “All right, well, you see, when I said you were a threat to me, it was because I thought… well, when my mother died, I was destroyed, and then I didn’t have anyone, not until Gail, who you met?”

  “Your husband’s sister?”

  “Well, she left me,” said Tristanne. “She said that what we felt for each other was unnatural and sinful, and she married a man, and I was devastated.”

  “Yes, terrible things happen to everyone, Tristanne, and your story isn’t any more horrible than my own, so—”

  “I know,” said Tristanne. “I’m not… This isn’t an excuse. It’s an explanation.”

  Mairli snorted again.

  “I sort of decided that I never wanted to be in that position again,” said Tristanne. “I never wanted to be abandoned and left behind, and pining over someone who… so, I just never let myself get attached. And then… then you.” She shook her head. “And despite everything I’ve done, I can’t help it, I’m attached.”

  “You have a very odd way of showing it.”

  “Well, I was talking to Sefoni a few weeks ago, and she said something interesting. She said that people couldn’t make themselves safe, because unexpected things always happen. But that if a person was resilient, she’d make it through the hard times. And I, well, I realized I am resilient, very resilient, and so I realized I was being am imbecile to push you away, because I could survive losing you if I had to—in fact, I was making myself survive it, but I was throwing away being with you in the first place, for no reason, and that was really, really, really stupid.”

  “Yes,” said Mairli.

  “So, um.” Tristanne ran her tongue over the curve of her upper lip. “Well, I’m sorry for doing that. And, er, I want you back. Or I want you in the first place, since I’ve never properly had you. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll do your society dinners and be polite and proper and try to help you—”

  “I don’t want any of that any more,” said Mairli. “None of that means anything.”

  “Oh,” said Tristanne. “Well, whatever you want, I’ll—”

  “What I want is for you to leave me alone,” said Mairli. “You had a half-naked woman on your lap and you put your mouth all over her skin for my benefit, precisely to hurt my feelings. And that is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to you, Tristanne, so…” She threw up her hands and stalked off.

  “Mairli,” called Tristanne.

  Mairli walked faster.

  To the blazes with Tristanne Wintereth.

  HAID STRODE ACROSS the ballroom to the table where Madigain was sitting. It was after dinner, and Madigain was utilizing the hour that the finalists were entitled to be in the ballroom and practice.

  Haid had taken pains to make sure that the other men who made it this far in the tournament would not come to practice and would not be here, and he’d assumed Madigain, hosting the tournament, wouldn’t be here.

  But.

  Here he was.

  Haid pulled out the chair opposite the shanj board, its legs scraping loudly against the floor.

  Madigain didn’t look up, however.

  Haid sat down. “You couldn’t have really thought that Abrusse street queen was going to damage us. Not when you know what Sefoni can do.”

  Madigain ran his forefinger over one of his cavalry pieces. “Oh, good evening, Darain. So nice to see you.”

  “What was it? Some sort of psychological warfare?”

  Madigain looked up at him. “Was Vox with her?”

  “Yes,” said Haid.

  “Ah,” said Madigain. “I would have thought you were acquainted with him. Where did you get your iubilia when you were in town before?”

  Haid straightened. So, it was that Vox. Now it clicked. He hadn’t made the connection before, but of course he knew of the man. Vox probably supplied the bulk of the iubilia in the realm, buying it straight from pirate ship sources and distributing it to others who took it throughout the various countries, all marking it up a bit as they did so.

  Sefoni turned on them. “If the two of you are going to talk, would you mind going out into the hallway and closing the door? I’m trying to concentrate here.”

  Madigain smirked.

  Haid stood up, scraping the chair as he pushed it back in. “Yes, let’s go into the hallway, Madigain.”

  Madigain looked up at him. “What do we really have to talk about?”

  Don’t look at the tiara. Haid clenched a hand into a fist and kept his gaze on Madigain. “You’re afraid she’s going to beat you, aren’t you, that’s why you sent them after us.”

  “Please, go out,” snapped Sefoni. “Haid, I’m sure there’s someone’s wife you want to catch up with.”

  Haid flinched, partly for show. He wasn’t sure what Sefoni was about. She was improvising. They were both improvising. Was that likely to make Madigain leave the room?

  Madigain chuckled. He ran his finger over several of his infantrymen pieces and then stood up. “Well, we wouldn’t want to disturb Her Grace, would we?” He sauntered out of the room.

  Haid let out a long, slow breath and followed him out. He shut the door to the ballroom once they were on the other side. “Listen, I have asked you repeatedly to leave her out of whatever it is between the two of us.”

  “Oh, yes, she’s out of it,” tittered Madigain. “She took care of the Cowntess for you—”

  “For herself. You and the Cowntess forced her to do horrid things—”

  “Right,” said Madigain. “So, that means she has a grudge against me.”

  “Yes, and she wants badly to beat you in shanj. Which is why we’re here. It’s for her. I have much to… atone for with her.” Haid looked down, as if ashamed, and this was mostly for show. He was still improvising. He shouldn’t put too much emphasis on that, of course. Madigain would get suspicious if he showed too much weakness. “But never mind that. Never mind what she said. Never mind anything except that you need to have your quarrels with me and not with her. Leave her be if you don’t mind.”

  Madigain narrowed his eyes at Haid. “Quarrels with you, eh?” He leaned closer. “Forgive me, but haven’t I challenged you to duels before, on more than one occasion, and haven’t you turned me down?”

  “Is that another challenge?” said Haid.

  “What if it was?”

  “I think I explained my position on duels.”

  “Yes, that you are a coward and prefer to use underhanded means to rob men of their hard-earned property.”

  “Hard-earned?” Haid let out a wild laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

  Madigain put his forefinger in the middle of Haid’s chest. “I thought it would be you.”

  “Me?”

  “In the tournament,” said Madigain. “I thought you’d want to play shanj against me. Instead, it’s your wife, and she’s… well, she only loses when she wants to. Or perhaps when you want her to. I can’t decide if you and she are working together, or if you’re deliberately bringing up your past with other women to hurt her and destroy her focus so that she can’t play. I wouldn’t put it past you, Darain, but the question is why?”

  “You want you and me to play?” said Haid. “Fine. Let’s play.”

  Madigain raised his eyebrows.

  “You were in there practicing,” said Haid. “So, practice against me. But let’s give Sefoni another twenty minutes or so before we barge in, because she craves quiet right now. She needs her focus.”

  Madigain folded his arms over his chest. “Really? You’d play against me?”

  “Of course,” said Haid.

  “For what purpose?” said Madigain. “You want me to put something up, don’t you? Something to win back from me?”

  “No, I don’t care,�
�� said Haid.

  “I know,” said Madigain, lifting a finger. “Your father’s signet ring.”

  Haid lifted his chin. He had a perverse inclination to ask for the tiara now, but… “You’d really give me that if I beat you?”

  Madigain smiled. “Well, it will make it interesting, anyway, won’t it?”

  Haid sniffed. “Twenty minutes.”

  Madigain shrugged. “Twenty minutes.”

  But just then, the door opened and Sefoni was there.

  “Are you done?” said Haid to her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Your husband is going to play me at shanj,” said Madigain. “You’ll want to stay and watch, I suppose.”

  Sefoni’s eyes widened.

  Haid gave her a tiny shrug. I was improvising, he tried to communicate. “You don’t have to stay, Sefoni. You’re quite tired, I’m sure. You can go back to the inn.”

  “Without you?” she said.

  “Well, the carriage we hired is waiting for us, so I’m sure you’ll be quite safe if you take it without me. Here’s some coin for a tip.” He took out his purse and gave it to her. “I’ll walk back.”

  “All right,” she said slowly.

  “All right,” he said.

  She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.

  He gave her a squeeze.

  She walked off.

  “She didn’t want to watch you play?” said Madigain. “I must say I don’t understand your relationship with her.”

  “Well,” said Haid, “she’s a, uh, a force of nature.” He gestured. “Shall we?”

  “Eager for your shot at the ring?” Madigain walked back into the ballroom.

  Haid followed him. Don’t look at the tiara, he told himself.

  But he did.

  And there it was in the display case in the middle of the room, looking just as it had when it was sitting on his mother’s brow.

  He let out another low, slow breath.

  Madigain was already striding across the room to the shanj table. Thank the blaze he hadn’t noticed where Haid was looking. “Black or cream?”

  “Whichever you prefer,” Haid called, tearing his gaze away from the tiara to move across the room, following the other man to the shanj board.