Sako and Dason had been friends since childhood. Sako, in spite of his charming and polite façade, was a vicious killer. He was very gentle around women, but would kill any man with very little provocation. Osi got the impression that there were others in the crew that had known Sako as long as Dason had, but none were so close.
Dason Nive was witty, charming and very likable. Even his sarcasm was gentle, more amusement at a situation than criticism of the people involved. He was the sort who only killed when he had to. Dason was the First Mate, and was probably what kept the crew on an even keel. Without Dason, Osi thought that Sako would be a monster worse than Spiderhead.
She let none of this affect her conversation with these men. Talik didn’t like any of them and barely hid it. Dason, of course, was slowly winning him over, but Sako apparently felt that charm was wasted on a man. The meal was over and they’d just received their coffee when three women approached the table.
The lead article in the broadsheet had been the upcoming wedding between Lozia, the son of Duke Iambola, and one of the three women. Thus Osi knew what was going on as soon as they stood up from their own table. The men at her table were speechless, but at least they didn’t gawk. Sako set down his coffee before his hand could shake.
Their skirts were the shortest he’d ever seen. The one with the reddish tinge to her hair offered an envelop to Dason. She wore a flowered twin triangle type of halter with a strap over each shoulder that looked as if it were painted on, and her skirt featured a slash that went to the waistband, exposing the front of one hipbone. A little wind and she’d show everyone her private hair, Sako thought. It didn’t seem possible that she could wear anything under that.
The tall one with shorter hair gave an envelop to Tirpa. Her halter was the kind that covered most of her back and shoulders. It was secured by a pair of buttons in the front. Then Sako was distracted by the third woman, who offered a sealed envelop to him.
She was the shortest of the three, the darkest and the most buxom. Her halter was dark brown and was held by a neck strap. There was a triangle cutout in the center that was point up rather than the more common point down. Sako’s hand reached blindly for the envelope as he looked her in the eye. The tall one spoke, but Sako could barely hear her for the blood pounding in his ears.
“Excuse us, Stess. I trust we’re not intruding?”
“Not at all, Stess.” Sako could hear the smile in the factor’s voice. “Please proceed.”
Sako felt a strong rush of desire. Something in his face gave him away, for the dark girl smiled encouragingly. Her lips were very full. It was an effort not to focus on that triangle, but he managed. Dimly he could hear the tall girl.
“You are each invited to dinner tomorrow evening; the details are in your letters. As you are foreign, I must point out that there will be no exchange of names, nor would it be appropriate at dinner. Do you accept the invitations?”
“We do,” Dason answered for all. “Thank you.”
The buxom brunette smiled at Sako again as she turned to go. Sako finally blinked. The girls looked every bit as good going away as they had face to face. Sako was too busy watching the short skirts—hoping for a glimpse of bottom—to notice the venomous look Talik shot him. Osi missed it as well, as she had closed her eyes in bliss at the last bite of her pastry.
The Crew was more than happy to spend an extra day in town. A few had met ladies and the rest were satisfied to watch the locals. Osi had provided directions to the Grape Arbor, but Sako decided to hire a coach. The Grape Arbor was across town, and none of them wanted to arrive at dinner sweaty. Sako wore his sword, as befitted a privateer captain, and all three carried hidden pistols.
The three Smilers were punctual, and were expected. A servant led them to a private dining room and closed the door. The table was set for six. Tirpa gestured at the chaise lounges, one in each corner. “Just in case you were doubting, it is a Bride-to-Be.”
“Wonder which one’s the bride?” said Dason.
“Who’s caring?”
The women arrived together, dressed differently but just as provocatively as before. They sat at the table, all on the same side. Each man sat across from the lady that had invited him. Food and drink arrived on covered dishes, and the servants bowed out. Sako’s lovely new friend poured wine for all, and the tall girl stood and made a toast, “To the bride-to-Be: may this, her last night of freedom, be free from strife, may the men invited prove strong and capable.” Everyone drank deeply.
“Couple more toasts like that and I won’t be strong or capable!” That was Dason.
The brunette served the meat course. It was tender cuts of beef, rare and well-peppered. Sako picked up his fork after everyone had been served, but the brunette shook her head.
“You have to take off your boots, first.”
The men thought that a little strange, but did as they were told.
Conversation was light and flirty. Dason was the most comfortable with this, but the other two were enjoying the boldness of the ladies. Women were by no means expected to keep their desires quiet or their comments innocent in the rest of the world, but Jono women were used to being completely in charge, and these three were having fun with whatever they wanted to say. The confidence and boldness was very exciting for the men.
When they were required to remove their stockings for the next course, the men understood exactly where this was going. Sako hoped the meal ended before he lost his shorts. He wouldn’t be comfortable eating while naked. The ladies however, were not as concerned with his comfort. They began to remove clothing as well, one item at a time.
Dessert was key lime pie. Sako had never felt so self-conscious while eating. The women now wore only their halters, so nothing had changed on their side of the table, at least visually. The brunette finished last, and blotted her lips with her napkin. Color had risen on all three women. “It’s time to stand up boys.”
“I’m already standing,” Dason said.
The girls giggled.
“Where we can see,” said the one that had chosen him.
The Smilers obeyed, carefully, not looking at one another. The women obviously appreciated the show. The tall one even licked her lips.
Is this how a woman feels when a man is ogling her? Sako wondered. He was still self-conscious, but quite flattered.
After a few moments, the ladies removed their tops, and it was the men’s turn to stare. Each woman was unique in her size, shape and coloring, yet each was lovely and perfect. They stood up, and pirouetted slowly. They reached out and each led her chosen escort to a different corner of the room. Sako and his new friend were sharing their first kiss when the door burst open.
“Chendre!” The voice was male, and outraged. “Rape!”
Sako didn’t move. The penalty for rape in Jonos was worse than death. The brunette stepped back slightly but didn’t take her arms from Sako’s neck.
“Don’t be a jackass, Lozia!” she said. “It’s my Bride-to-Be, not a rape. You weren’t invited!”
“A commoner? With whip scars? Chendre! I’m your husband!”
“Not yet!” Chendre said sharply. “Tomorrow night you’ll be the only man I’ll ever have again. Tonight is mine, as you know.” She gave Lozia a hard look. Then she knelt, seized Sako by his buttocks and pressed her breasts into his thighs. Sako suddenly had trouble breathing.
Chendre stopped what she was doing and made shooing motions at her betrothed. “Leave, Loz.”
Watching her with the whip-scarred man was too much for Lozia. Instead of leaving, he drew a rapier. “I challenge you, scum!”
Sako gently but firmly disengaged from Chendre and turned to face the enraged man, and froze. His own sword was on the floor by the table. The women were outraged.
“You can’t challenge a man for what happens at a Bride-to-Be, Lozia!” the tall girl said from her corner.
“You’re not even supposed to know what happens here tonight,” the other girl said firmly.
Dason was out of Lozia’s line of sight. He began edging toward his clothes.
“Leave, Lozia,” Chendre repeated. “Or else you’ll walk down that aisle tomorrow to find no one waiting for you.”
Lozia lowered his rapier, but didn’t sheathe it. He fixed Sako with a look of pure hatred. “I’ll have my revenge on you! I’ll find out your name, and five thousand queens will ensure you are hunted wherever you hide. And when I have you, I’ll cut off your stap!”
Sako was amused. This man was no real threat to him. “Meanwhile,” he drawled, “I’ll put it back where it was.” Sako smirked at the nobleman. “It was quite happy there.”
Lozia howled in outrage and slashed viciously at the door. He took a step into the room and found himself face to face with Dason.
Dason had his pistol out. “I believe the ladies asked you to leave, sir.” There was no hint of amusement in his tone.
“What’s going on here?” a woman demanded authoritatively. Then Sako heard a gasp, followed by, “My door!”
A woman just a few years older than the others stormed in and grabbed Lozia’s arm. Her pretty face was twisted with anger. “Don’t think for a heartbeat you’re not going to pay for that!”
Lozia looked less sure of himself, but blustered anyway, “Do you know who I am, Stess Innkeeper?”
“I do.” The innkeeper was not impressed. “Your father will hear of this, I assure you.”
Two burly men in Grape Arbor vests stood in the door. They looked in at Chendre and the tall girl, and turned their attention to Lozia.
“Now put that down,” the innkeeper continued, pointing at the rapier. “That’s not an axe, nor is my door firewood! Are you through disturbing my guests, or shall my men escort you out?”
Lozia eyed the men speculatively as he put away his weapon. “Five thousand queens to the man or men who deliver that one to me, alive.”
They looked at Sako. It was a lot of money.
The innkeeper was having none of that. “If either of you offer harm to one of our guests—”
Dason cut her off. “This is an Alarfaji pistol.” He turned it sideways so everyone could see its unusual shape and design. “I can fire six shots before reloading.” He showed them his most charming smile. “Dead men can’t spend anything, you know. Dead men can’t pay rewards, either.”
The Grape Arbor men considered that for a few seconds, then took Lozia by his arms and guided him toward the stairs. There was a lot of town between the Grape Arbor and the docks…
“I’m very sorry for the disturbance, Stess,” the innkeeper said to Chendre.
“I won’t pay full price anymore, but we can talk of that in the morning. For now, I’d like to return to my party.”
The innkeeper sighed. It wasn’t her fault the boy had found the party, and she certainly wouldn’t marry a lout who would try to break up a Bride-to-Be. “As you wish, Stess.” She nodded and withdrew.
“Put your weapons away, boys,” the reddish haired girl said.
“I’m sure there’s something in this room more interesting than a northern gun,” said the tall one.
Sako relaxed and looked at Chendre. She was so beautiful. His excitement returned.
“That’s better,” she said with approval. “Now, what were we doing before all that?”
The next morning they hired a closed coach for the trip to the docks. Word of Lozia’s reward had surely spread. The coach deposited them next to the Spicerunner without incident. Talik was waiting for them.
“My wife sent me,” Talik said as he passed a letter to Sako. “She knows a factor who can move large quantities of spice with no questions. He’s actually more of a broker than a factor. She says he’ll buy merchandise in his own right, and sell according to the market. His name is Count Baggich, formerly of Agresia. This tells you where to find him and him who sent you.”
After the evening he’d just had, Sako felt kindness for the world. Even for a worthless househusband/athlete like Talik. “Thank you very much, sir. Please tell the Stess how much we appreciate the extra help.” Who sent us to him? Oh, I see. She’ll get her piece of it from the commission, which this count must pay if he wants factors to deal with him.
Talik smiled sourly. “I will. If you’ll excuse me, I have a competition today; I should see to my horse.”
“Horse?” Dason said pleasantly. “You’re a horse racer?”
“No, I play polo.”
44
Sulmir’s Palace,
Saleet, Alarfaji Sulmirate
D’Shar Scipio waited impatiently in the Great Hall. The Sulmir was currently holding court, but had summoned the Minister of Foreign Trade for a private discussion after. The Great Hall was far busier than usual, so Scipio tried to relax.
It was Hulmeous the Great’s Birthday. On this day, the birthday of the first Sulmir, any citizen of the Empire or its colonies could ask for a single boon from the Sulmir. People traveled from all over the Sulmirate to be here, on this day.
Himself sat on his ornate golden throne, lined with thick purple cushions. He seemed to glow in the unadorned white robe that was open to the waist. His muscular chest gleamed in the sultry air.
Scipio thought His golden eyes, unique to His line, looked tired. A pair of Clavvish slaves stood to either side, fanning Him. The throne sat nine steep steps above the floor where the supplicants stood.
Long familiarity with the Great Hall and its wonders made Scipio blind to the blue-veined marble columns that stretched from the Great Door to the throne. He no longer saw the intricate floral carvings on the feet and caps of the right row, nor the animal motif that decorated the left. The fine plush carpet beneath his feet escaped his notice as well. He watched the current delegation with mild interest.
These people were the Parji, a tribal community that lived so far north they only saw the sun for half the year. They were stocky and short and looked rather strange, with straighter hair and a lighter brown skin than most citizens. Seven of them were kneeling with their heads bowed and the eighth stood below Himself, pleading his case.
They were content to allow the crab trappers, fishermen, whalers and seal hunters access to their frozen bays and islands. They brought things in trade that could otherwise not be obtained, and generally behaved themselves. But white bear hunters near the western mountains were getting sloppy.
Twice in the past year careless hunters had used firearms in avalanche-prone areas, and wiped out a family of Parji each time. Also, one had been too lazy to track and finish a wounded bear, which had killed and eaten two more families before local hunters could get it.
Finally, the Parji were tired of finding the bodies of hunters who were improperly clothed or hadn’t brought enough food. It was expensive to send these hunters home. Their chief asked that white bear hunting be outlawed, except for those hunters known to the Parji as experienced in the local conditions.
All others should be required to take terrain and weather wise Parji hunters as guides, and they should pay these guides in cash or kind. Poachers should be shot on sight as if they were rabid dogs.
“Like a dog, he might have been good and useful, but a poacher is a danger to himself and those who live in the north.”
The Sulmir closed his eyes, deciding. Scipio knew it wouldn’t take long. The Parji are so far out on the edge that they are essentially self-governing anyway, tributary taxes notwithstanding. They will do as they please with the hunters. Better to make it His law as well as theirs.
The Sulmir opened his eyes and began to speak. Non-Parji hunters of the white bear would be licensed by a fee every year, each subject to approval by the Parji. They would receive three quarters of the fee.
The Parji accepted the proposal with gracious smiles. They presented the Sulmir with slippers made from seal-pup fur, the whitest and softest in the world. They withdrew and the next supplicants came forward.
Only the most important or wide ranging requests made it here, to the Sulmir’
s attention. Lesser matters were forwarded to the appropriate Ministry, which granted all that were reasonable.
These supplicants were the rulers of two of the petty former kingdoms to the far west who had a border dispute. There had been raids and suchlike for over a century, and the current rulers wanted the border settled once and for all. Scipio’s eyes glazed over as each jockeyed for the Sulmir to rule in his favor.
In the end, the Sulmir took a mile wide swathe centering on the disputed border and declared it His property. Residents were to be moved to their kingdom of allegiance as soon as possible. He would send cavalry to patrol the buffer area with orders to kill anyone there for any reason.
If the kinglets could not settle their differences peacefully in one year, the buffer would become ten miles wide. If the Sulmir had to wait a second year…
Now the petty kings were angrier with the Sulmir than each other. They swallowed their protests and presented their gifts. They were the last.
The Sulmir noticed Scipio and motioned him forward.
Number One Son and Number One Daughter ordered the room cleared and soon only the Guards, Scipio, and the Family remained. The Majestic Children took seats on the steps below their Father.
The Sulmira appeared from nowhere, leading Number Four Son, who was mind-defective, by the hand. Scipio knew that Number Two Son was on a diplomatic mission to the Kingdom of the Moks, far in the south. Number Three Son was a general. He was in the field, suppressing a minor rebellion in the Ictian District.
Number Five Son was why Scipio had been summoned.
“Minister Scipio, it has been a year since the Pride of Saleet departed.” The Sulmir had a deep, resonant voice. “Yet we have heard nothing. What is being done to learn of its fate and that of Our Son?”
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