“I am done speaking with you.” The harbourmaster stated coldly, averting his gaze from Ives to lock eyes firmly with Thomas. “You, I will talk to… You can’t dock here.” Thomas rolled his eyes to the heavens and held out a hand to prevent Ives pushing forwards again.
“You are to leave here immediately. You will not be granted refuge and if you resist you shall be thrown into jail. Have I made myself cle…?” The official’s face paled and his eyes widened as he stared past Thomas to something over the captain’s shoulder. Sweat appeared on the man’s forehead and his tongue appeared to be stuck to the roof of his mouth, leaving Thomas wondering if the harbourmaster were having a kind of seizure. The crowd dropped to the floor, heads bowed, touching the jetty, their protest extinguished. Shields and spears clattered to the ground as all eyes were cast down to the floor in abject compliance.
“My lord…” squeaked the harbourmaster. “I am so sorry. I did not know. How could I know? I mean this is not even one of our ships. You must forgive me master.” He threw up his arms in terror and sank to the floor, his hand grabbing Thomas’s boot tightly. The captain looked down at the trembling man confused.
“Please save me.” The man pleaded, begging as if his very life depended on it.
“From what?” Thomas asked, staring around blankly.
“What are they all looking for?” Rauph asked innocently from behind him.
“Defeats me.” Thomas replied, shrugging his shoulders whilst trying to wriggle his boot out of the grasp of the harbourmaster, who held on as if he were sinking in quicksand.
“Do they need any help?” Rauph continued, moving from the gangway and kneeling down beside the cowering harbourmaster. “I am very good at finding things.” The harbourmaster had his eyes closed now and was shivering all over. Rauph’s nose snorted as he sniffed the ground, causing a low moan to escape the man’s lips.
“You know if I didn’t know better, I would suggest this man is about to throw up.” The Minotaur commented. “Here let me help you up.” There was a shriek of shock as Rauph hoisted the man to his feet then went to brush him down with his free hand, sending clouds of dust into the air as he did so and making the man wince at each touch.
Thomas took it all in, the cowering crowd, the terrified harbourmaster, the statue. This was not the normal reaction of seeing a Minotaur, this was the reaction of someone who saw them frequently and feared them.
“Look,” he opened, tapping the harbourmaster on the cheek. “Just look… We know it’s all a genuine mistake. Relax we won’t hurt anyone. All of you, please stand up.” No one moved. Thomas sighed then turned to his shaggy friend who was still holding the trembling spokesperson and uttered the words to confirm his suspicions.
“Please tell everyone to stand up Rauph.”
“Stand up Rauph.” The Minotaur snorted. The crowd slowly got to their feet, heads still bowed. The anger and outrage from earlier now long gone. Instead the assembled crowd looked pale and terrified as if they had only moments left to live.
“Please all of you relax,” Thomas gestured, aware that Weyn and Mathius had now wandered down the gangway to check what was going on. He turned to the harbourmaster. “Look, do you know anywhere nearby that we can all go to have a drink? Then we can discuss how we can all help each other. I am sure this city, wherever we are, has a bar where honest men talk and trade.”
The harbourmaster opened one eye, took in the grinning face of Ives clearly feeling superior at the recent turn of events and then looked over at the ginger coloured eight-foot tall creature holding him.
“You are in Taurean.” He replied breathlessly. “Please put me down now.” Rauph lowered the man carefully back to the dock and slapped him one more time to ensure that all the dust was off his shaking body.
“I…I think I know just the place.” He muttered, appearing dazed, clearly surprised he was still alive. “Please master, if you would be so kind as to follow me.” Rauph stood back as the man and moved off, then noticed Thomas urging him to follow.
“Who is this master he keeps talking about?” the navigator frowned at the captain.
“Just follow him,” Thomas instructed. Ives, Weyn and Mathius moved to shadow the navigator, mingling with the crowd of supporters who now seemed overjoyed to have the Minotaur in their midst, all complaints of the El Defensor’s docking fiasco now forgotten.
“Wait for me.” A commotion at the top of the ramp had stopped Thomas in mid-step as he turned to see Ashe struggling to free himself from Aradol’s firm grasp back on the El Defensor. The captain nodded his agreement at Aradol’s actions before passing orders.
“Set a guard on the ship.” Thomas ordered, before turning and fixing the Halfling with his intense stare. “Ashe… you are not to leave the ship. No matter what. If this ship sinks in the dock, I want your body found inside it when the ship is salvaged… Do you understand?” He glared in the Halfling’s direction, lifting a threatening finger, making it clear that breaching this order would not be tolerated, then moved to follow the ever-increasing crowd that was tracking his shaggy navigator from the docks.
* * * * * *
The dazzling white marble facade of the luxurious royal palace stood perched high above the city of Taurean. Columns ran the entire length of the building, massive statues of Minotaur in various warrior poses sited between them. Large open spaces contained gardens, fountains and pastures where the hierarchy of the city could meet, discuss learning, politics and the intricate running of the populace below. Cool marble-floored hallways stretching for hundreds of yards, held planters densely packed with lush vegetation that could obscure secret meetings, sinister plots and passionate trysts. Shaded balconies offered incredible views out across the waters of the lake and safe glimpses of the dense jungles around. Despite the fact the huge pyramid temple always cast its shadow over the tightly packed homes of the workers below, its position was such that it never darkened the gleaming palace, a statement to those below of who was truly in charge.
Mora blew out her white cheeks, her green eyes bulging in anger. She ran her hands through her shoulder length long white hair, streaked with the odd stray length of rust orange, pushing it back from her bovine face as she paced up and down the marble floor of the balcony overlooking her sprawling city. A long blue dress enveloped her generous form and flowed out behind her as she waked, the deep royal colour hemmed with gold braid that matched the massive gilded horns on either side of her head.
She stopped at the balcony and placed her hands onto the warm carved marble surface, staring out over the city and docks that she ruled, not taking in any of the hustle and bustle before her but instead listening with growing ire to the rest of her preening entourage sitting around the table behind her.
“They want me to touch the children in the nursery.” A blonde-haired Minotaur moaned to her associates. “Actually touch them. I mean what about my nails?”
“Oh, that’s simply ghastly Karlar. Those human children carry diseases you know. Intestinal worms and head lice.” A larger oak brown Minotaur added, her hair braided into a long ponytail that ran down over her right shoulder. “You should stop doing the charity work if you ask me.” She reached forward and lifted a palm sized mat of weaved grass studded with candied sweets.
“I never had that problem when I did charity work with the older ones.” An emaciated, ebony black Minotaur replied, a gold earring flashing in her left ear. “Of course, all of my charity cases died Wanessa. It wasn’t my fault no one fed them. I always managed to find time to feed myself.”
“Oh Amnet you are simply a scream,” butted in a plump black and white Minotaur wearing a pale chiffon dress that displayed her chest and hid nothing. “Speaking of a scream have you seen the new captain of the pyramid guard. He’s simply dreamy. I would love to polish his horns.”
“Shuesan I so know who you mean. He is so lush.” A curly red-haired Minotaur fluttered her painted eyelashes. The Minotaur’s tight-fi
tting toga wrapped around her body looked like the latest fashion from a distance but up close the seams were frayed and worn. “But he will probably never look at anyone like me. My life is so unfair.”
Mora tapped her fingers angrily on the balcony. It seemed that no matter how often the most senior members of the matriarch society of Taurean got together, nothing positive ever seemed to get done. She grabbed a handful of grass and chewed on it in disgust. Pascol was so weak, the weakest of the group. Mora often considered replacing her.
“I need a flame.” Shrieked a high-pitched voice. “Where is my servant girl.” Mora turned back to the room to see another member of the group lounging on a padded bench gesturing a rolled-up tube of herbal grass. “I need someone to light this. Where is my servant when I need her?” A human child ran from the shadows, holding a small bowl of flame in her shaking hand.
The slim orange haired Minotaur sucked hard on her grass tube as the flame lit the end, then inhaled before releasing a fragrant smoke that she blew towards the servant powered fans swinging backwards and forwards on the ceiling. She looked down at the small child with distain.
“I think you were too slow.” She hissed at the serving child, snatching the girl’s arm before she could run away. “Next time you will be faster.” She removed the roll of grass from her mouth and ground the glowing ember into the child’s arm, raising a shriek of agony from the struggling infant, then released her so that she dropped to the floor sobbing.
“It is a privilege to serve one of us.” She snapped, her orange hair remaining in a perfect style of sculpted coils upon her head. “Don’t you ever forget it. Next time I want you, be here. You may go.” The small child seized the chance to run for the safety of the shadows, tears streaming down her face, holding her burned limb to her side.
“Oh Chane, did you really have to do that?” Karlar moaned. “The rug is all singed now!” Titters of cruel laughter rang around the room. Mora turned away in disgust and continued her pacing. They all seemed to have forgotten why this meeting had been called.
“How are the plans for the midsummer ceremony progressing?” Mora enquired. “Do we have the gladiators, the sacrificial offerings, contestants selected for the Labyris contest?”
“Oh the gladiators are picked, the slaves purchased for the slaughter but we are still missing candidates for the main event. No one of royal blood dares to take the challenge so it looks like the pyramid will remain sealed this year.” replied Wanessa. “It will be such a disappointment to the crowds.”
“What about your son Drummon?” Shuesan asked, shouting out onto the balcony. “He is of age now. Surely, he would want a chance at the Labyris prize? Oh he is so dreamy.”
“He is so dark and rugged, even his muscles have muscles.” Amnet crooned. “I would let him take me for a ride any day. Maybe I should pop around and see him.”
“Oh so true.” oozed Wanessa.
“Excuse me! We do not pop anywhere.” Mora snapped. “We are royalty, so we visit. I also expect you to remember that Drummon happens to be my son!” She tried to contain the smile threatening to cross her lips. She wanted them to nominate Drummon but she did not want to push the matter too strongly at this time.
“Your last surviving son.” Chane laughed slyly, blowing another cloud of fragrant smoke towards the ceiling. “After what happened to Kristoph, I am surprised Drummon even dares to close his eyes and sleep at night.”
“Kristoph was a mistake.” Mora snapped back. “His death an accident.”
“He was a mistake I would have liked to make.” Shuesan bellowed. “He was so…”
“Dreamy.” They all called out before bursting into laughter again.
Mora went to reply, caustic words on her lips, then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. There appeared to be a crowd down by the dock. She squinted, cursing her aged vision and noticed the exotic ship at anchor.
“Why don’t you all just… what is going on down at the docks?” she asked.
“Nothing to my knowledge.” Wanessa mooed, shuffling out onto the balcony to join her leader. She rested her dark brown hands on the balcony and leant over. “You are right, there does appear to be something going on.”
“Where?” Shuesan butted in. “I want to know the gossip as well.” She stared over the rail and noted the people rushing to join the small procession winding up from the harbour.
“Well whatever it is they all seem rather excited.” Pascol moped. “Maybe it’s a party and no one invited me. My life is so unfair.”
“If someone is having a party and I haven’t been invited heads will roll.” Chane glared.
“Why has everyone gone outside?” Karla moaned, still lounging back in the room. “It’s all hot and sticky out there and I haven’t finished putting on my makeup yet.”
Amnet eased her painfully thin ebony hide between Wanessa and Shuesan. “Is there free food?”
“Why is it that you always want the free food.” Shuesan moaned. “After you eat it you simply throw it up again. It’s such a waste.”
“Well that way I don’t get fat.” Amnet snapped back. “And as the food is free it doesn’t matter what I do to it. Remember I do have two stomachs to fill.” Wanessa nudged Amnet hard.
“We all have two stomachs to fill.” She warned. “So from now on if there is free food you wait your turn and know your place.”
Mora tried to ignore the catfight erupting alongside her and gazed intently at the gathering below. Something about this crowd worried her. Something niggled at the back of her mind. She did not know why exactly but a chill was running along her spine.
The Matriarch turned, barging the other Minotaur out of her way and walked back into the coolness of the fanned room, motioning to a hulking grey-haired guard with a twisted horn who stood silently against one wall.
“Aelius, please rouse my son. Tell him to go and find out what is going on down at the harbour. I want to know what all the fuss is about and if the slaves are getting rebellious, I want him to swat them down hard.”
“Yes my queen.” The guard snapped to attention then turned away, intent on getting as far from the room of females as possible. He tried to put a brave face on his reprieve then realised that he had to get Drummon and Drummon was nothing but a brainless idiot.
* * * * * *
“So my beneficiary returns.” Octavian smiled. “I ordered you a drink, which you now owe me for. Have you secured the funds for my services?” Kerian sat down heavily, his saddlebags dropping to the floor at his side and looked across at the dark-haired youth, weighing up the man before him whilst trying to keep his own troubled thoughts from showing. He took a large gulp of his drink to boost his courage, grimaced at the taste, wiped the back of his hand across his lips and then leant forwards across the table.
“I don’t like the way you spoke to me earlier.” He said quietly. “Because of that, I think we should make things more interesting. I know you like to gamble, so let’s set a wager for the information I require.” Octavian’s face fell, his expected payday now clearly somewhat resistant.
“What do you mean?” the gypsy asked suddenly suspicious. “Where is my money? Remember, information you don’t have is expensive.”
“I know,” Kerian replied. “You already told me that but I have no idea how much your information is worth. What you know may not get me what I ultimately seek. I need reassurances. If you truly believe what you know is good enough, then you should be up for a spot of gambling. After all, life is not rich if there is no element of risk.”
“I don’t think so.” Octavian snapped, clearly not liking the direction their conversation was going.
“Oh come on.” Kerian goaded “I’ll play any game of chance you like.” A sly smile swept across Octavian’s features.
“I believe dice are my forte?” he smirked.
“I thought you would never ask.” Kerian replied, moving his stool closer. The hook was bait
ed; the fish had nibbled, now it was time to reel the young man in.
“If I win,” Kerian began, trying to keep his breathing slow and steady. “I want more than just information. I need transport, armour, a sword and a guide.”
“Now that will not come cheap.” Octavian replied. “So, what’s in it for me?”
“If I lose, you can have every gem currently in my saddlebags and your information is yours to keep.”
Octavian’s dice suddenly clattered to rest across the table.
“So who rolls first?” the gypsy enquired grinning like a cat facing a bowl of fresh milk.
“Well I think you should throw first.” Kerian replied, swiftly reaching forwards to scoop up the magical dice in his hand, clearly surprising the gypsy as his own hand closed over empty space.
“If you have my dice, how can I roll first?” Octavian asked, clearly confused.
“It’s only fair that if you are going first, I should be able to choose what dice I use.” Kerian replied.
“Then what dice do I use?” Octavian asked.
“Hang on a moment.” Kerian got to his feet and moved over to the bar, leaving the gypsy sitting with his mouth open. He watched as the old man leaned over the bar and gathered something from the barman’s hands. Octavian opened his mouth to protest as Kerian sat back down again, however this time it was the old man’s unexpected smile that disarmed him.
The gypsy’s eyes moved back down to linger on the worn and chipped ivory dice sitting before him, some of the dots were missing, there was a crack across one face and the six on one dice looked decidedly wonky.
“But this is not fair.” Octavian began. “Why should I have to use these decrepit cuboids?”
“Because you have nothing to lose.” Kerian replied. “And I have lost everything. Shall we begin?” Octavian sat for another moment, then leaned forwards and scooped up the chipped dies, shrugging.
“Okay then…” he said slowly. “The rules are simple. Highest throw wins. If we draw whoever rolled first wins.” Octavian paused again. “You said you want a guide, a sword, transport and information. That’s four throws, for four chances.” Kerian nodded his head, he had no choice but to play and let luck guide his way.
The Labyris Knight Page 15