A Little Hospitality

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A Little Hospitality Page 5

by Kevin L. O'Brien

peek backwards and saw him illuminated by the fire, puffing away, but he had stoppered the bottle and put it aside. That seemed odd, somehow, but she felt too tired and fuzzy to ponder it. Settling her head, she closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep.

  Differel awoke out of a sound sleep.

  Something's wrong.

  Reaching under her head roll, she felt for the pistol, but couldn't find it. Alarmed, she threw off the blanket and jumped to her feet, summoning Caliburn. The great sword appeared in her hand as she left the lean-to. In the dim light of the much diminished fire, she saw five Leng Men, dressed in belted tunics, trousers, robes, and boots, with bulbous turbans on their heads. Three confronted her directly, with scimitars and butcher knives; behind them, two held Michael, one with a dagger to his throat.

  "Surrender," the one in the middle front said, "or we will kill your companion."

  Had she been alone, she would have engaged them all and taken her chances, though she had little doubt she could beat them. But she wouldn't be able to get through the three in front of her before the others cut Michael's throat.

  She had no choice.

  She lowered the blade, then gripped the ricasso and presented it to the middle Lengite, whom she figured was the leader. "Your prisoner, sir."

  Grinning, his wide, frog-like mouth full of blunt teeth, he gestured to his left-hand companion. He strode forward and took hold of the hilt, but as soon as she let go, its relative weight increased hugely and it dropped, its point biting into the rock in a shower of sparks. He grabbed the handle with both hands, but he couldn't lift it, even with all his strength.

  She willed the sword to vanish as he strained, and he flew backwards, falling onto his arse, to the amusement of his companions.

  "Get on your feet," the leader ordered between chortles, then looked at the other two. "Let him go."

  The one removed his dagger and they both pushed Michael forward. He walked up beside her, looking rather contrite.

  "You shouldn't have done that." His voice had a melancholy tone.

  "Never mind," she muttered, "we'll get out of this yet."

  He gave her a pained look at the same time he revealed one of her pistols. "You don't understand. I was never in any danger." He pointed it at her.

  She raised both eyebrows as her stomach clenched.

  He flashed a puzzled expression. "You don't seem very surprised."

  "I wasn't expecting it, but this kind of thing happens all the time. I just wish you weren't involved."

  "Keep an eye on her," the leader said, "while we set up."

  He nodded, and the Leng Men walked across the shelf to where five Shantak birds perched on the edge. Looking like a cross between a vulture and some kind of pteradon, she thought they were the ugliest things to ever fly through God's skies.

  "What are they planning to do?"

  "They're going to make it look like you were killed by a wild animal. I'm supposed to spread the word that I found you torn to pieces."

  "Hmph. I have friends who won't believe it. Not to mention my husband."

  "They've used it before; it's always worked."

  "Why would they care so much about me?"

  "They know who you are, as do I."

  She didn't think he lied, but she decided to bluff it out to try to throw him off guard. She flashed a smirk and laid her hands on her hips. "Oh? And pray tell, just who am I supposed to be?"

  "Lady Differel of Elissa, Heir Presumptive to the Kingdom of Ooth-Nargai."

  She lowered her hands in mild shock. She hadn't imagined he could be that certain.

  "What tipped you off?"

  "I recognized you almost as soon as I first saw you."

  "How?"

  "The red coat and hat? That giant sword? The pistols? Any by themselves were suggestive; all three together were definitive, especially the pistols."

  She couldn't help smiling as she shook her head. "I suppose they are a little obvious."

  "Plus, you look like her description, and those stories you told me. You were very good at leaving out incriminating details, but I could read between the lines. Besides, I also searched through your pack while you swam and I found those letters written by your husband."

  "Oh, bother. Did you set this up?"

  "No." He turned his back on her. "I'm really sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen--"

  She kicked him in the back, sending him flying onto his face. Turning, she dashed for her clothes, pulled a pistol out of the harness, and aimed it at him.

  "No, wait!"

  She pulled the trigger without hesitation. The internal wheel spun, throwing off sparks, but the gun didn't discharge. Surprised, she opened the pan; the powder had been removed. She realized he must have done it after she fell asleep.

  "Bloody hell."

  He stood up and approached her. Staring in a cold rage, she tossed the pistol at him. "Here; payment in full for services rendered."

  He fumbled catching the weapon, but managed to get a firm grip before he dropped it. Meanwhile, the Lengite leader stalked over.

  "Enough of this nonesense." He pulled some cord out of a bag tied to his belt. "Hands behind your back."

  Michael pointed the primed pistol at her. "You'd better do what he says; you don't have any choice."

  She complied and the Leng Man tied her wrists together.

  She hissed in pain. "Not so tight."

  "Of course not, Your Highness," he said in a mocking tone. He came around to face her, grinning. "Do you have any idea what we plan to do with you?"

  "Not the foggiest. Enlighten me."

  "We will hold an auction, with you as the main attraction. There are many people who would like to get their hands on you; you should fetch a high price. Of course, what your buyer does to you is their business, though I can imagine what that might be." He paused as he let his eyes drift down her front, then he ran a hand over her flat bosom. She considered spitting in his face, but thought better of it. It would have been a futile gesture.

  "If I wouldn't take such a huge loss, I'd consider keeping you for myself." He pinched a nipple, making her wince. "Ah, well, such a pity."

  Turning to Michael, he grinned a leer. "Enjoy yourself." He went to join his companions, chuckling in an evil manner.

  She turned to give him a baleful stare, and he blushed and looked away.

  "You tried to kill me." He managed to sound hurt.

  "Does that surprise you?"

  "Yes. I thought you liked me."

  "I did, until you betrayed me."

  "I didn't betray you. As I tried to explain before you kicked me, I didn't want this to happen, but I couldn't stop it."

  As much as she would have enjoyed cutting him up into roasts, the sincerity in his voice unnerved her. He appeared to have too honest a character to be deceptive, and she doubted he was that good an actor.

  Maybe he's telling the truth.

  "All right, I'm listening."

  "I'm a smuggler. I sell items that are either banned or have high tariffs placed on them. The Leng Men are one of my clients. They give me items and I pay them the money I collect, minus a small commission. We meet here once a month to make the exchange. Tonight is one of those rendezvous."

  "And I blundered into it. Why didn't you simply tell me?"

  "Confess to being a criminal? How could I be sure you weren't a marshal, or that you wouldn't try to turn me in for a reward, or blackmail me?"

  "Hmph. I see your point."

  "Even if I could trust you, the Leng Men would have killed me if they found you here with no explanation, and still have taken you. The only way to save you and protect myself would have been to send you away."

  "Then why didn't you?"

  He turned his back on her again, as if trying to hide from her. "I'm ashamed to say."

  She almost felt sorry for him. "You've been honest with me up until now. Best to make a clean break."

  He sighed. "You're probably right. I want to get
out of this racket, make a fresh start. When I thought I recognized you, I realized you could be my ticket to making a huge score, big enough to let me go somewhere else and set up some kind of business, like a small tavern. Nothing fancy. So I convinced you to be my guest. I planned to turn you over to them. I waited until after you were asleep to disarm your pistols, and then stayed up until they arrived."

  "When did you steal the one I put in my bedroll?"

  "When you relieved yourself."

  "Is that why you got me drunk? So I wouldn't check to make sure it was still there?"

  "I wasn't trying to do that, but I needed you to sleep soundly until we were ready for you. So I drugged the whiskey. An expensive sacrifice, but you would be worth a hundred times that bottle."

  Puzzled, she said, "But you drank from it, too."

  "Only small amounts, and about a third less than you did. The drug is weak; it takes a fair amount to make someone woozy."

  "I see. You had this well thought out."

  "Yes, but I didn't count on liking you. After you retired I debated with myself whether to go through with it, and if not how to get you out of it. I finally decided to let them capture you, then I'd release you and you could hide until they left. Unfortunately, I had not counted on you being tied up."

  "How were you going to accomplish that?"

  "Have you pretend to attack me, then run away. Only you moved before I could explain what's going on, and you went for a gun instead of trying to escape."

  She got an idea; it was a long shot, but it just might save his plan. "What did the leader mean when he told you to enjoy yourself?"

  "He probably assumed I'd take advantage of your plight, if you catch my drift."

  "Wouldn't that lower my resale value?"

  "You're married."

  "Yes, that's true."

  "Besides, I'm pretty

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