Pirate's Promise Read online

  Celeste climbed aboard without his aid and slammed the carriage door closed with her magic as soon as he sat down. "What did the guard mean, Torius? Why do you have to return by sundown? In fact, why are they releasing you at all? Windy Kate told me you punched the barkeep. Isn't the penalty for assaulting a guild member a year in the gaol?"

  Torius waved his hand dismissively. "They let me off with a fine for the assault charge. I've got to pay before tonight, or I'll have to serve time."

  Celeste's worry subsided to mere annoyance. "I noticed a squad of Zephyr Guard loitering around the dock near the ship. They must have orders to prevent us from leaving before you pay your fine. How much did that punch cost you?"

  He winced and looked away. "Three thousand scarabs."

  She gaped at the sum. "That's—" she cleared her throat, "—a lot. Was it worth it?"

  "The man was being a jackass! He was trying to extort me for damages that weren't our fault! There was a point of honor to be made."

  "Your honor seems to get you into more trouble than it's worth."

  His face flushed. "I couldn't back down from a conniving twit like him in front of my crew! It would make me look weak, and at the first sign of weakness, crew discipline goes to hell. I've got to depend on them to follow my orders, even when those orders put their lives on the line."

  "So you punched the barkeep in the face to ...um ...save face?" The corner of her mouth twitched, ruining her stern demeanor.

  "Now that you put it like that, Celeste, yes. That's exactly what I did." He grinned at her. "Besides, I can afford it."

  His nonchalance peeved her. "But if you couldn't afford it, you'd be in a gaol cell for a year. Would it have been worth that?"

  "If I couldn't afford the fine, the fine would have been less." He gave her a wry look. "I have little doubt that the taverners' guild looked into my finances and had a chat with the councilman about the fine. I'd only have spent a year in jail if I'd had no money."

  "Really?" She furrowed her brow.

  "This is Katapesh, Celeste. Business and profit take precedence over justice." Torius leaned back, automatically adjusting the well-used cutlass tucked into the side of his sash, only to wince as if pained. Arching his back, he reached and pulled a long, red scabbard from where it was tucked crosswise into the back of his sash.

  "You have a new sword." That she hadn't noticed it before surprised her. Am I that upset?

  Torius smiled. "From last night. The jackals had some decent weapons, and ...well, pirates will be pirates. I wasn't about to leave anything for that barkeep." He lay the curved scabbard across his knees and drew the serrated blade partway out to show her. "It's a beauty, isn't it?"

  Even in the light from the draped carriage window, she could see the wavy lines of folded steel. It certainly was beautiful, but it also seemed more than beautiful. Celeste cast a simple spell, and a golden aura suffused the sword. "It's enchanted."

  "It is?" He looked at the blade more closely. "I knew it was a good weapon, fine Drumish steel, but I didn't know it was magical. What's it do?"

  Celeste gazed into the golden glow. A vision appeared in her mind of sharp steel and a never-ending flow of blood. "The magic seems to maintain a preternatural edge, and deal grievous wounds that bleed and weaken the foe." She looked up to him. "A valuable weapon. It might even be worth what your temper just cost you."

  The carriage took a sharp turn and slowed as it began ascending the steep incline of the Night Ramp. Torius set the sword aside and opened the drape to stare out the carriage window, obviously intending to let the conversation lapse.

  Celeste followed his gaze out beyond the eternal flame that burned atop the Temple of Nethys, beyond the towers and ramparts of the city walls, past the Docks district, to the blue rolling waves of the Obari Ocean. The sea was his domain. On the sea was a freedom that no Zephyr Guard, king, or Pactmaster could take away from him. Torius loved the sea, and he had chosen to share that love with her.

  Her mood eased, and her volatile temper faded. She knew Torius longed to be back at sea. Yet he had offered to accompany her for a month to visit the Observatory. That simple generosity, his loyalty to her, his crew, and his ship, was what she had fallen in love with. Yes, he could be brash, and sometimes thoughtless, but beneath the pirate exterior beat a heart of gold. Which reminds me ...

  "We may have a problem with transportation to the Observatory."

  "What problem?"

  "I've been doing some research. Most caravans are simple camel trains. They shy away from using wagons because wagon wheels become stuck in the soft sand."

  Torius raised his eyebrows.

  "I'm nervous about traveling outside of a covered wagon. Neither my transformation nor my illusion spells will last all day, and we could meet up with other travelers." It was imperative that she keep her true nature a secret. Lunar nagas were rare enough to be a valuable catch for slavers. "And I can't ride a camel in my natural form."

  "I hadn't thought of that." He mused for a moment. "Why don't you ask Snick to help you?"

  "Snick?"

  "Sure. She might not be able to change your shape, but I'll bet my best tricorne hat that she can figure out how to make a wagon wheel that doesn't sink into the sand."

  "I'll ask her." The quirky gnome had a penchant for solving technical problems, and kept Stargazer in fine trim. Deep in thought, Celeste was caught off guard by the sudden itch of her failing spell. "Oh, damn!"

  Celeste's form suddenly shifted, her legs fusing and lengthening into a long scaly tail, and her arms receding into the sleeves of her dress. Her face remained the same, except for the venomous fangs that now filled her mouth. She writhed her coils, trying to avoid jostling Torius too badly, and flicked the drape closed with her magic to avoid curious eyes.

  "Sorry about that."

  "Don't be." Torius caressed her smooth scales. "I don't mind."

  "You minded the other night when we were—"

  "That was different." They smiled at one another. Their relationship was challenging at times, and when Celeste ran out of transformation spells at the wrong moment, it was frustrating for them both.

  The carriage jolted to a stop. "Immaculate Repository, sir," Windy Kate yelled down.

  "Time to pay the piper, my dear. I'll be back in—" Torius stopped with his hand on the door latch, and looked at her. "Why don't you come with me?"

  "Inside?" Celeste had never been in the Repository. Her share of the plunder was kept in a common account with the rest of the crew's. Whenever she wanted something, she'd merely ask Torius, and he would fetch it for her.

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to put you on my accounts."

  "What?" Celeste snapped around, taken aback. "Why?"

  "Because I love you, Celeste, and it seems a little ridiculous to not share something as trivial as money when we already share everything else." He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers and grinned at her shocked expression. "Besides, it'll save time the next time you have to bail me out of the gaol."

  Celeste stared at him, flustered beyond speech. She didn't know what to say, either to his claim that money was trivial, or his willingness to share his fortune with her. It was true that they shared most things, but ...his money? She knew how dear money was to Torius. He'd grown up with none, even before his pesh-addict mother sold him into slavery.

  "You have enough spells left, don't you?"

  "Yes, if it doesn't take too long, but ..." Celeste felt like smiling and biting him for being a fool at the same time.

  "But what?" He grinned that boyish grin of his, opened the door, and held out his hand to her. "Come on."

  Without another word, she cast the spell that transformed her into a human woman, placed her hand in his, and accompanied him into the Immaculate Repository.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Saffron sniffed at the door and turned to Vreva. *The wine man, and many others.* He trotted over and hopped up on the arm of the couch where
he settled quickly, obviously pleased with himself.

  "Thank you, Saffron." She ignored his feline superiority and went to the door. "Watch the others while I greet Fieson. They're probably just slaves, but you never know." Vreva donned her best smile, worked the latch, and pulled open the heavy doors. "Captain Templeton! How very nice to see you." She curtsied, giving the expected flash of cleavage and thigh. "Please come in."

  "Good to see you in such a glow, Mistress Jhafae." Templeton swaggered in, sweeping the lavish apartment with his eyes. "You've changed the décor since last I visited. I like it!"

  "A matter of nostalgia, Captain." She waved a hand at the opulent swaths of crimson and gold as several of the inn's slaves hauled three chests into the room. "Others might call the red ostentatious, but it's a reminder of our homeland that I find ...soothing." She glanced at the chests. "Your gift, I assume?"

  "Just some wine." He dismissed the slaves with a wave. "Another reminder of our homeland to sooth your nerves."

  "How thoughtful." The door closed and all their pretenses fell away.

  "Why in the names of ten thousand devils did you kill that lout?" she hissed in a harsh whisper. "The man could have been important! I don't have any Qadiran clients, and he could have supplied invaluable information about the eastern slave trade."

  "You'd have gotten no intimate pillow talk from him, Vreva. Not the way he talked about you."

  "I don't have to sleep with someone to get information, and you know it! All I needed was to get him alone. And the last thing you need is to draw attention to your business."

  "My business is above reproach." He waved off her admonition. "And I'm not the one who deserted her post for nearly two months. You left me hanging like a corpse on a gibbet."

  "My absence was unavoidable. I had to help a friend." He opened his mouth to comment, but she knew what he was going to say and cut him off. "A real friend, Fieson! I had to make things right." When Torius discovered that Benrahi Ekhan had blackmailed her into betraying him, he'd come storming into this very room with his sword in his hand. Luckily, he wanted information more than her blood. Celeste, on the other hand, would have cheerfully sunk her fangs into Vreva's throat, until Torius stopped her. Helping the pirate exact revenge was more than atonement; it was perversely gratifying, and ended the threat forever.

  "People in our line of work can't afford real friends, Vreva. They can be used against us." He scowled and continued. "No report for two months has put Marshal Trellis in a state of apoplexy. The consuls want things to move forward, and you've set them back!"

  "The consuls can wait! My whole operation was at risk! I had to take care of it or disappear entirely." Five years they'd been working together for Andoran, battling the slave trade at the vile business's very heart, and he still didn't understand her position here. His killing of Heclech proved that. Attention from the authorities was the last thing they needed, and corpses drew attention like flies. "Besides, the trip was very profitable."

  "Oh?" That got his attention. Money always got his attention. "Well, the consuls do appreciate someone who can fund their own operation, and you've been very generous with your earnings. How profitable?"

  "Enough to fill Devil's Dawn with the poorest wretches of the Fleshfairs ten times over." It was more than that, of course, but she wasn't about to hand over every last scarab. She had a standard of living to uphold.

  His eyes bulged. "Vreva, you are the very torch of liberty!"

  "Spare me the patriotic drivel, Fieson." She was in this for the same reason he was, to fight the abomination of slavery, but sometimes his rhetoric struck her as sanctimonious. She was a spy, not a saint. "Your stunt with Heclech will bring you the attention of every slaver in that room. That's what will put our operation in jeopardy, not my trip to Sothis!"

  "The bastard deserved it, Vreva." His eyes glowed with righteous fury. "I'd heard of him. He had a nasty reputation for abusing his cargo, and I saw the opportunity to rid the world of his stench."

  "And risk our entire operation? Don't be an idealistic fool!" Vreva kept her voice low, but girded it with enough steel to get her point across. "Do you know what slavers do to spies? Have you seen it? Have you smelled it?"

  "I know, Vreva." Fieson glowered at her, but she was right and he knew it. "Fine! I shouldn't have killed him in the middle of your little reception. I can't very well un-kill him, and I actually think it improved my reputation with your friends. I could get some valuable information myself, you know."

  "Please, Fieson, leave the spying to me. You don't have the temperament for it." Spying required patience, poise, and a persuasive tongue. Fieson had none of those qualities.

  "Temperament, or skill between the sheets?" He raked her gown with his eyes.

  "I use every weapon I've got, Fieson! Sex isn't my only one, and you know it." For Fieson to criticize her technique was like a blind man advising her on her outfit. He was not trained as a spy, had not endured years of honing the deceptive craft, learning the subtle spells, drugs, and poisons that gave her the information Andoran used to wage its war of abolition. While Fieson was little more than a delivery boy, Vreva was many things: spy, courtesan, poisoner, seductress, sorcerer ...

  "Enough. What's done is done, but I'll thank you not to draw any more unwanted attention." Vreva looked into Fieson's dark eyes. The job he did—buying slaves in Okeno in order to free them in Andoran, as well as bringing her supplies and taking her reports to Marshal Trellis—was important. She squeezed his arm in genuine concern. "Please, Fieson. If they find out ..."

  "You just don't want to replace me."

  "True," she admitted. "Who else would defend my honor against louts and bounders?"

  He gave a short, sarcastic laugh, and opened his mouth, but she forestalled him.

  "Now, what did you bring me besides wine?"

  "Oh, the usual." He fished a key from his pocket and unlocked the first chest.

  Tightly packed bottles of Chelish vintages filled it to the brim, but she barely paid them any attention. They removed the wine, and Fieson opened the secret compartment beneath to reveal row after row of vials: spell components and powders, drugs and poisons, oils and elixirs, the tools of her deceitful trade. Combine them with her subtle spells and courtesan training, and the slavers of Okeno didn't stand a chance.

  It took nearly an hour to sort the covert cargo and hide it away in the secret nooks scattered throughout her apartment. Into the now-empty compartments they placed tightly packed rolls of platinum coins—the profits of her trip to Sothis.

  "You know, I'm probably the only man to ever leave your apartment with more money than I arrived with."

  "Just tell Marshal Trellis to put it to good use." Vreva went to the sideboard, poured two glasses of wine, and handed one to Fieson. "And you be careful."

  "I am careful." He took his glass and raised it. "To freedom."

  "I'll drink to that." Vreva took a sip, eyed him and reached up to loosen his collar and ruffle his hair. "You need to look a little rumpled. And here." She leaned close and smudged her lip rouge on his collar, then retrieved a tiny bottle of scent from a hidden pocket and dabbed a spot onto his neck.

  "You don't miss a trick, do you?"

  "I'm still alive, aren't I?" Leaning in again, she gave him a well-placed love bite.

  "Ouch!"

  Vreva just smiled and peered at the mark her teeth had left. "Perfect. Everyone knows you came to visit me, and now you look the part. You're ready to stroll the Fleshfairs."

  *Can I bite him, too?* Saffron licked his nose in anticipation, but Vreva ignored his comment.

  Fieson quaffed the rest of his wine. "That reminds me; I have an appointment with Werreg this afternoon. He said he had something special for me."

  "Something special?" Suspicion nudged the back of Vreva's mind. "Did he say what it was?"

  "No, he said it was in appreciation for defending your honor." He grinned and put his glass on the sideboard. "I told you my reputation h
ad improved."

  "Be careful, Fieson! Werreg may look like a fat pig, but he's shrewd."

  "Oh, he probably just has some new merchandise he wants to sell me." Fieson's smile faded. "He specializes in children, you know. Young and ...compliant children."

  "So buy his entire stock and set them free."

  "I will!" His eyes took on a far-off look. "Their faces when I tell them they're free, Vreva ...that's what makes it all worth the risk."

  "At least you get to see the fruits of your labors." Jealousy stung her, and she masked it by lounging on the arm of the divan, sipping her wine, and reaching down to scratch Saffron's chin. "All I ever see is work, work, work."

  "Speaking of which, do you have any kind of report?"

  "I just got back, Fieson. I've been out of touch. Maybe when you return."

  "All right, but I warn you, Trellis isn't happy."

  "Let her come down here and give me a piece of her mind in person, then. Tell her what I told you: my entire operation was at risk. It's the truth. Besides, I'm the best asset she's got, and she knows it." Vreva didn't know that to be a fact, of course. Andoran's Twilight Talons were far too secretive an organization for any one operative to know much about the web of spies that Marshal Trellis had spun across the Inner Sea region. They were actually a branch of the illustrious Eagle Knights, but unlike the famous Steel Falcons and their naval branch, the Gray Corsairs, few knew that the Twilight Talons were more than rumor. What you didn't know, you couldn't divulge under torture.

  "It's not your assets that they have a problem with, Vreva. It's your attitude."

  "My attitude?" She suppressed the ire that threatened to break her composure. "What's wrong with my attitude?"

  "I shouldn't tell you this, but there's been some muttering about you. Some of the Talons think you're too headstrong."

  "Headstrong!" That was just too much! She surged off the couch, heedless of the wine that spilled over the rim of her glass. "Why don't you tell those paper-pushers to come down here and service a crowd of sweaty slavers!"