The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Thank you,” she said, pushing the coins toward him. She turned away from the bar and moved toward the door. She felt Jarrett fall into step behind her.

  “You might try the joint the next block over. Lot of sailors go there for the music. Got a real good piano player.”

  Tyla glanced back at him. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Then she and Jarrett stepped back into the night. She glanced at the stars and tried to calculate what time it was. She didn’t think it was that late, but they didn’t have a whole lot of time left. A wave of despair passed through her and she faced Jarrett.

  “They know about Brodie.”

  Jarrett nodded.

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure. Nazarien have their ways.”

  She suddenly remembered something Kalas said. “They found my letters to Kalas. They took them from the mail carrier Kalas found in the Groziks.”

  “That must be it.”

  “Which means we don’t have much time to find Brodie before he winds up dead.” She gave Jarrett a severe look. “But why would they want to waste time on him?”

  “To keep me in Kazden, to keep me from going to that island.”

  She looked up the street in the direction the bartender had suggested. “What if we’re not in time?”

  Jarrett reached out and gripped her shoulder. “Then we’ll find another way.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Kalas eased the robe off his wounded shoulder and dropped it on the chair, then turned. He took a step back, his heart slamming against his ribs. Ellette was sitting on the end of his bed, her legs drawn up beneath a cotton nightshirt.

  He closed his eyes and drew a calming breath. “Damn it, woman, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  “I heard something below stairs,” she said.

  Kalas nodded, motioning her off the bed. Her vulnerable position and her state of dishabille unnerved him. She rose, standing before him. The voluminous folds of the nightshirt hid her figure, but her hair was loose about her shoulders and her bare feet poked out below the hem. Kalas found himself staring at her mouth. He blinked and looked into her eyes. “Jarrett wanders the halls all night for some reason.” He took another step back. “Look, Ellette, you can’t keep coming into my bedroom like this.”

  Her eyes passed over his bare chest and then shifted to the bed, but she didn’t move away. “Why does he wander the halls?”

  Kalas circled wide around her and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She shifted to face him, then did an odd thing and climbed back onto the bed at the end, their knees nearly touching. Kalas’ eyes widened in surprise, but he tried to ignore her behavior.

  “I suspect he’s trying to keep my sister in the manor. She has a habit of sneaking off on her own.”

  “Where would she go?”

  Kalas shrugged, then regretted it as his stitches pulled. “That would be anyone’s guess. My fear would be she’d steal a boat and begin paddling aimlessly around the ocean.”

  Ellette frowned. “That is ridiculous.”

  Kalas laughed. “You don’t know my sister.”

  “You love her very much, yes?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “I would do anything to keep her safe.”

  “You knew her mother?”

  Kalas’ gaze rose to Ellette’s face. Her hair had fallen over one eye again and he longed to brush it back. “Yes, she took care of me for a while.” Whenever he thought of Shara, he felt an ache for what might have been. “She was one of a kind. The mother I would have chosen if I’d been able.”

  “Your father loved her very much, yes?”

  “My father couldn’t live without her. When she died, I knew he would die too.” He fingered the edge of his sling. “I was so young, but I remember looking at her still face and knowing that she was gone. Immediately, I thought of him. I knew he would die. I knew it.”

  “You watched her die?”

  Kalas nodded.

  Ellette reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  Kalas knew he should pull away, but her touch was warm. He tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

  “Your sister has power like he did. Do you ever long for it?”

  “I felt it once. Just once. It was like a flame of rage tore through me. I hated the feeling. I couldn’t control it. It acted on its own. I never want to experience it again.”

  “Is that why you feel you have to protect her? Because you know what she fights to contain?”

  Kalas frowned. “No, I feel I have to protect her because she’s my sister, my family. That’s what family does.”

  Ellette’s direct gaze searched his face, probing. “She can take care of herself.”

  Kalas laughed. “Again, you don’t know my sister. There has never been a more headstrong woman. She will tempt anything if she feels she has a purpose. Like this scheme of hers – going to an island no one knows about – she’ll find a way, mark you.”

  Ellette was silent for a moment, long enough for Kalas to become uncomfortable. It was one thing when they were talking, but when they stopped he became aware of her, of her scent, of her warmth, of her sensuality. “Do you ever wonder…” she began, then her voice trailed off.

  “Wonder?”

  Her eyes moved back to his. “Wonder what you might be like had he lived?”

  “Dangerous thought,” he answered, then sighed. “All of the time. I wonder that all of the time. We were happy in Terra Antiguo. It was good. I longed for it once it was taken from me.”

  Ellette nodded. “I wonder too. I wonder what my mother might have taught me. She knew so much.” She gave him a ghost of a smile, the closest a Nazarien ever got, and Kalas wanted to touch it, stroke his thumb along her bottom lip.

  He rose suddenly and stepped away from her. Dangerous, dangerous thoughts, he scolded himself. “Ellette, you need to leave, go back to your room. You can’t stay here.”

  Her expression fell. She looked down and away from him. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t dare. Without another word, she unfolded herself from the bed and turned her back on him. Then she walked to the door and pulled it open.

  “Good night,” he said.

  She didn’t answer and the door closed at her back. It was just as well, he told himself.

  * * *

  Tyla hesitated on the porch of the next tavern, the Tern. The last bartender had told them sailors were attracted here by the music, but they heard nothing. In fact, the usual sound of nightlife was oddly absent. The front of the building was weathered grey clapboard. No windows broke the expanse of overlapping wood. A sturdy door with metal bolts sported a lopsided sign that said welcome.

  Tyla reached for the dented knob and turned, pushing the door open. It struck something heavy, forcing her to lean her weight on it. The sound of something scraping across the floor filtered back to her and she peered around the opening, her eyes widening.

  Broken glass, shattered tables and chairs, and overturned boxes littered the floor. In the middle of it was a small, wiry man with a thick head of red, curling hair. He looked up at her and squinted behind round glasses.

  “We’re closed,” he snapped from his crouched position. He had a small broom and a dustpan in his hands and he was sweeping up the glass.

  Tyla shoved the door into the table that was blocking it, opening enough space for herself and Jarrett to push into the room. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  The man glared at her, but when Jarrett appeared, his expression turned to rage and he dropped both the dustpan and broom. He reached for a broken table leg that lay next to him and brandished it at them.

  “Get out!” he shouted. “Get out!”

  Tyla reared back and held her hands out to the side. “Hold on a minute. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

  “Get out!” he screamed, pointing the jagged end of his weapon at Jarrett.

  “Please listen to me. I don’t know what happened here, but I want to help you…�
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  “Help me! Get him out of here! That’s all I want!” He feinted forward menacingly and darted back. “Get out!”

  Jarrett let out a deep breath, then took a sudden step forward. Tyla had seen him in action many times, but she always forgot how quick he was. He cleared the space between him and the man. The tavern owner raised the table leg in a defensive movement, but Jarrett caught it and thrust the man back. He stumbled over a broken chair and fell on his backside, staring out from behind his glasses with a wild, terrified look.

  Jarrett threw the table leg away and looked back at Tyla.

  She moved closer to the downed man. “I want to help you, but I need you to answer some questions.” She glanced around the tavern. The piano stood in a corner, but someone had hacked it with a sharp object, breaking the keys and cracking the cover. She turned back to the tavern owner. “I’m not sure what happened, but I can guess by your reaction. Did Nazarien do this?”

  The man’s shoulders deflated. “They came in right after I opened tonight. They also wanted to ask me some questions.” He gave Jarrett a scowl. “When I didn’t have the answers, they did this.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Tyla.

  Jarrett reached down and offered the man his hand. The tavern owner stared at it a moment, then reached out and clasped it, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet.

  “What questions did they ask you?”

  The tavern owner dusted off his trousers. “They wanted to know about some old man named Brodie.”

  Tyla moved closer. “Do you know a man named Brodie?”

  “No, and that’s what I told them, but it wasn’t enough. They started smashing things and chasing my customers off. I’m sunk. Everything I had was tied to this place.”

  “Is there a chance you’ve seen Brodie, but just didn’t know it?”

  The tavern owner gave her a frown. “I supposed there’s a chance I’ve seen a lot of people and don’t remember.”

  “He’s a sailor.”

  “You know how many sailors I see every day?”

  “He’d likely be in the company of a Stravad – not Nazarien, just Stravad. They were friends?”

  The tavern owner thought a moment. “Sounds familiar, but I don’t remember them coming in here.” He scratched his head and cuffed some of the debris by his foot. “A lot of the older guys go down to the Blue Sturgeon. It’s near the smaller slips where the privately owned vessels usually dock. They got the best fish stew.” He closed his eyes briefly and drew a deep breath. “I had the music, they had the food. Now I got nothing.”

  Tyla climbed over the debris and approached the piano. She ran her fingers over the broken keys, then bent and picked up a torn piece of sheet music. She returned to the tavern owner’s side and motioned to his apron.

  “Can I borrow your pencil?” she said.

  He reached into the pocket and pulled out a blunt pencil with a heavy lead tip. Tyla braced the sheet music against an overturned table and scribbled out a note, then she held it out to the tavern owner.

  “Take this note to the manor home of the King of Eastern Nevaisser. Do you know where it is?”

  He frowned at her and didn’t reach for the note. “The King of Eastern Nevaisser? Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. Take this note and tell the guards you need to give it to him. Tell them it’s from his sister.”

  The tavern owner’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Tyla shook the paper. “Tell the King what happened. The note will confirm it. He’ll help you restore your business. I promise you that.”

  He hesitantly reached for the note. “This is insane.”

  “Not at all. Just promise me you won’t go to him until tomorrow morning. Just wait until tomorrow, please.”

  The tavern owner glanced at the note, then studied Tyla’s face. “Okay, but why?”

  “Just promise me you’ll wait.”

  “Okay,” he repeated and tucked the note into his apron. “I hope I don’t get locked up as a lunatic.”

  Tyla smiled at him. “You’ll be fine. And you’ll be back in business in no time.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed the man’s face. “Yeah, thank you. I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. It means a lot.”

  Tyla turned and made her way back to the door, Jarrett on her heels. Once out of the tavern, she checked the position of the stars. The night was getting away from them and they still hadn’t found anyone who knew Brodie.

  “They’re getting closer,” she said to Jarrett. “If he told us about the Blue Sturgeon, he’ll have told them.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get the impression he remembered the name of the tavern until you specifically questioned him. We may still have a little time left.” He nodded at the guards passing in the distance. “After the Nazarien busted up this place, they aren’t going to mess with a second one. Not with the increased patrols.”

  Tyla sighed. “I sure hope you’re right because if they get to Brodie before we do, I’m afraid he’s a dead man.”

  * * *

  They found the Blue Sturgeon easily enough. It was one of the only taverns in this part of the docks. The commercial lines drew most of the taverns because their ships brought in a lot of sailors looking for a place to spend their earnings on warm food, strong beer, and friendly companionship. In fact, the Blue Sturgeon was a squat, two story building that might have been a fish shop or a private home in a previous era. To the right of the building was a narrow ally nearly filled by a staircase, which rose to the second floor. There was no porch on the front of the structure. One simply stepped off the street to the door and inside. A hand printed sign in the window to the left of the door proclaimed it the Blue Sturgeon.

  Jarrett glanced down both ends of the street. For some reason, the hair on the nape of his neck rose. He lifted his hand and scratched at it. Tyla stared into the dark alley, her eyes narrowed. At her throat, the emerald pulsed.

  “What is it?” he said.

  “I’m not sure.”

  A patrol of soldiers passed behind them, talking loudly.

  “You sense something.”

  She looked up at him. The single lantern, hanging beside the door, illuminated her green eyes. “I can’t get a feel for it.” She looked back at the door. “Let’s go in.”

  Jarrett nodded and followed her. She turned the knob and pushed it open. The room was small, not much bigger than a parlor with a fireplace to the left and a few tables and chairs scattered across the main floor. A bar at the back of the room was lined with stools and along the right wall were private booths with high backs and dark interiors.

  A few people sat in the booths, talking quietly, but no one sat at the bar. A man and a woman stood behind the bar, watching as they approached. The man was polishing glasses with a cloth, but the woman came to the edge of the bar and leaned against it.

  “Good evening,” said Tyla, forcing a bright smile. “I wonder if we can ask you some questions.”

  The woman’s eyes briefly tracked over Tyla, then fixed on Jarrett. A slow smile curved her lips. She leaned forward a bit more so her ample bosom strained the bodice of her low-cut blouse. Jarrett glanced into the mirror behind the bar, trying to count the number of patrons in the room.

  “You are one tasty piece of Nazarien male, aren’t ya, darlin’?” she said.

  Jarrett’s eyes snapped back to her face, then he glanced at Tyla.

  She arched a brow. “I guess you’re going to have to take this one,” she said, a trace of amusement in her voice.

  Jarrett’s thoughts escaped him. What the hell was he going to do? For so many years he’d hardly even talked to a woman, let alone flirted with one. Nazarien shunned such trivialities. Both women watched him as if expecting him to react. The bartender smirked as he replaced the glass and picked up another one.

  Jarrett cleared his throat. “We’re looking for someone,” he began.

  The woman smiled, a bit too broadly. She’d been attractive once,
but her heavy makeup made the lines around her mouth more prominent and her hair was an unnatural shade of blonde. “Maybe you’ve found her,” she said.

  “No, we’re looking for a man.”

  The bartender stopped polishing his glass and the woman leaned back a little, her smile growing wider. Tyla gave him a look that said he wasn’t doing a very good job. He drew a deep breath and took a step closer to the bar.

  “A Stravad, handsome, probably around my age. He might have been in the company of an old man.” He could see by the expression on both their faces that they knew something. “His name was Jax Paden.”

  The woman nodded. “Yeah, I remember him. He was a regular here for a while. Then he went away.”

  “Bum leg,” said the man. “Nasty bit of business that.”

  “That’s right. He went home, back to Temeron.”

  “That’s what he said,” offered the man. The woman glanced at him, then turned back to Jarrett.

  “Whatever he’s done, we didn’t know nothing about it,” she said. “We ain’t responsible.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Jarrett glanced into the mirror. A few patrons at one of the booths were watching him, but they didn’t appear Nazarien. He dismissed them. “Actually, we need to find the old man, the one who taught him to sail – Brodie Daegan?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “He owe you money?”

  “No,” said Jarrett, confused. “No, he doesn’t own me money, I just wanted to ask him a few questions.”

  “Questions about what?” The tone of her voice was suspicious.

  Jarrett swallowed. Obviously he wasn’t approaching this with the finesse he should. “When Jax got back to Temeron, he was very ill. We think Brodie may know something about it.”

  The bartender stepped forward. “Brodie didn’t do nothing to Jax. Jax did it to hisself.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Brodie’s an old man. He’s been a good customer here,” said the woman. Her smile disappeared and her eyes narrowed. “Talk travels quick around here. I heard what happened at some of the other places when Nazarien start poking around. Greyburn’s got a club back there.” She nodded over her shoulder and the bartender reached under the bar, picking up a wicked looking club with a spiked edge. “We ain’t gonna stand around and let you bust up our place, and we ain’t giving Brodie up neither.”