A woman with long black hair and a sultry voice pressed her body into Georgio’s back and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t you let me draw for you, Handsome?”
Georgio swallowed hard and said, “Certainly.”
Billip just shook his head, shuffling the cards like a magician. “Let’s get this over with and draw.”
Sam the barkeep hopped down from the bar, dragging his club behind him, and headed towards the middle, where he stood puffing his cigar. “Get over here and draw, Velvet.”
The woman kissed Georgio on the cheek as she wiggled her way up to Sam, who fanned out all the cards on the table. Georgio’s feet twitched and jangled as she bent over to some oooh's and ahhh’s while walking her fingers over the cards.
“I think I’ll take … this one,” she said, sliding the card from the deck and nuzzling it between her breasts.
The crowd jeered with lust.
“Show um’ to us, Velvet!” one man shouted.
“The cards, too!” another added.
She peeked at the card, and her bright eyes began to dim.
What? Something was wrong. Georgio could feel it in his bones.
“Show us the card, Wench!”
She was biting her lip as her sad eyes looked on Georgio and she rose the card up over her head.
A gasp filled the air.
A black card faced them, showing a burning skull with a pair of fencing blades stuck through it.
“The Flaming Fence!” the barkeep cried.
Georgio felt a heavy shadow fall over him as every eye in the room turned toward him and the barkeep added, “Ye might wish to yield unless you want to die.”
CHAPTER 7
Kam was numb. Humiliation was something she hoped she never got used to as she soaked in the cooling waters of Palos’s golden tub. Since becoming a captive, she’d been shot with a crossbow and punched in the gut by a man named Diller, and she wasn’t sure which was worse: taking the pain or succumbing to Palos’s erotic needs. She scrubbed the soapy water deeper into her skin with a wash cloth.
“Lefty!” she exclaimed under her breath.
“What was that?” Palos said, knotting the belt over his long black bath robe.
It was only the two of them now and the sound of a roaring fire underneath the nearby mantle. Things would be much better if Venir was here, but there was no chance the man could come to her rescue now. Nor any man for the matter. Besides, for all she knew, the father of her daughter was dead, even though that didn’t really seem possible.
“I said, 'When can I see Erin, Palos?'”
He huffed as he dried his hair with a towel and took a seat at the table.
“It’s not even been a day,” he said, rolling his pale eyes and pouring a jeweled goblet of wine. “Now, let’s take a moment to talk about things, Kam. I think it would be better if we had a fresh start.” He poured another goblet. “Come on over and join me for some wine, and let’s talk about something different. The past, perhaps.”
Deep in the water, her nails dug into the palms of her hands. Just go along with it. What choice do you have? Just don’t make it too easy.
“Fine,” she said, grabbing her robe and standing up in the tub while taking her time slipping it on over her soapy body.
Palos' eyes were every bit as hungry as moments earlier.
“We can talk about the past, but not forever.” She walked over, grabbed her goblet, and stood by the fire. Its burning logs warmed her from head to toe. It felt good, revitalizing, almost cleansing.
Palos smiled at her. “Feels good, doesn’t it, Kam? The fire, the wine and the touch of a man. I know, Kam. I can tell how lonely you are. You’ve always been that way. You never wanted to get too close or have the kind of fun the other girls had. You were such a serious person, a dreamer within your own little world. I've wanted you since the moment I first saw you, but unlike the rest of your feminine breed, you never dropped your britches for me.” He gulped down his wine. “It just made me want you so much more.”
“And, now you have me?” she flipped her hair. “Does that mean there are no more pastures of women to conquer? Is it just a matter of time before I’m tossed dead into a gutter when you don’t fancy me anymore?”
He lifted his palms up and said, “Easy. Easy now, Kam. I’ve promised you that no harm will come to you or your daughter.”
“So long as I play your little whore.”
He shrugged his satin shoulders and smiled.
“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but I want more than that with you, and over time you will see that.”
I hope not. She ran her fingers under the choker on her neck. If she could just get it off, she’d turn him inside out with a single word. Her power dwelled inside her, and she’d memorized quite a few spells. But she couldn’t hang on to them forever. Still, she’d always have some power. Her sorcery allowed for that.
“So, would you like me to rub your feet now, Prince Palos?” She batted her eyes.
“Oh, I like the sound of that! But don’t patronize me.”
She strolled over behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.
“How about I rub your shoulders, then?” she whispered in his ear. She could see the hairs on his neck stand up on end.
“Eh … well, I suppose that would be all right.”
She rubbed deep into the supple muscles under his meaty neck. The man, despite his additional girth, moved with the grace of a swan. As much as she wanted to choke him to death, she knew taking the opportunity would only meet with failure and with that would come more time away from Erin. She rubbed harder and deeper.
“Aaaahhhh …,” Palos moaned, “it feels so good.”
She pulled him back into her chest and said in a soft voice, “After this, can I see my baby? It’s nursing time already.”
“We’ll see. But I’m going to need more of these muscles loosened first.”
She brushed her hands through his flaky hair. She remembered when Palos never had a thing out of place. Compared to most men, he’d been divine. And he’d been right about her, too. She was a prude. She didn’t do things like the other girls in school, but not because she thought she was better, but more because she was afraid.
“Perhaps I could trim this hair of yours? I think it could use a woman’s touch.” You vile and fattened beast.
“And have my own scissors rammed through my eyes, Kam? I don’t think so. Besides, when the time comes, I’ll have my nanny do it for me.”
“So be it, then.” She continued her rubbing, minute after minute as Palos slunk deeper into the chair. Just relax, Pig. Getting Palos out of her hair was one thing, but escaping the Nest would be another. There were hundreds of cutthroats out there: murderers, slavers, smugglers and thieves, and if Palos fell, no doubt someone would take his place. And she was certain she’d have Palos’s father Palzor to deal with after that. There had to be another way.
Palos’s eyes rolled up in his head as she rubbed his temples with her thumbs. Cocky bastard. The Prince of thieves was as loose as a goose in her hands, and it made her uneasy. The man had no fear of anything bad happening in his own house, it seemed. It left her feeling more helpless than ever. She scanned the room looking for anything that might assist her to escape. Empty bottles of wine, stacked piles of coins, candle stands, and furniture all of the finest quality. But nothing of a useful sort. The magic Palos had displayed had been tucked away somewhere her keen eyes had yet to find.
“What are you thinking, Kam?” he said, raising goosebumps on her arms. “I can feel you thinking, and frankly it’s only making it harder for me to relax.”
“I want to see my Erin, that’s all. Of course I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
He puffed a laugh and said, “Why, because my breasts are not yearning to be suckled?”
Something was uncoiling inside her. Her emerald eyes blazed on the great sword that hung on the mantle. Something about that magnificent sword was speaking to her
.
“Don’t stop now!” Palos warned, “Or you won’t see your baby until the morrow’, maybe later.”
“Of course, Prince …” of swine
He reached back and snatched her by the hair and jerked violently down.
Face to face, she saw a deranged look in his eyes that was not there a moment ago.
“And if you don’t stop thinking of escape, Dearie, I’m sure my servant Diller and his men will be more than glad to suckle that swelling chest of yours!”
She cracked her head on the table when he shoved her to the floor.
“Now, rub my feet, you red-headed cow, and think of nothing more!”
Kam shivered and averted her eyes from his. He’s mad! One second he was as smooth as a stone in a tranquil river and in the next he was an impulsive maniac with murder in his eyes. It scared her. It was one thing to deal with a wicked person that was sane, but it was quite another to deal with one that might just be crazy. Her body trembled as she rubbed and rubbed and rubbed and her doubt at ever again seeing her daughter grew. All she wanted to do was get her baby to safety now, but trying to do that might cost her life.
***
Got to save them. Got to save them! Lefty sat beside Gillem at a table full of cards and coins, his blond hair disheveled, trying to hide the weight of the world from showing on his face. He faced the steps that led up to Palos’s room and cast a casual glance up now and again.
Diller was there, crossbow folded under his arms, toothpick dangling from his mouth, eyes surveying each and every person below.
But how do I get past that man?
“Drop a card, you little rodent,” the man with a skinned up face sneered across from him.
“Oh my,” he said, running his tiny fingers through his hair before plopping a few coppers on the table. “Tell you what, Scratch, why don’t you drop a card instead?”
Scratch glowered at him with beady eyes and said, “You’re a little fool, Boy. Master Gillem, why’d you bring this rodent to us? He’s as stupid as he is short.”
Gillem sat on his stool, his pie face a humble grin, puffing on his pipe.
“He’s learnin,’ Scratch. Nothing better to teach a youngling quick than to snatch his coins. And since when did you ever care about someone losing to you? Take all his money you want. It’s mine you should be worried about.” He slipped a silver coin onto the table.
Scratch grunted as the remaining figure at the table, a black-eyed dwarf with a braided brown beard, shoved a matching silver coin across the table.
Lefty showed his teeth to Scratch and said, “It seems fortune’s on the side of the little people. Call or withdraw, Scratch.”
The card game they played is called Three. Ninety-nine cards fill the deck. There are nine symbolic face cards, each a different animal or creature, numbered from one to eleven. Each player is dealt three cards face down. One can look at them, bet or withdraw. The highest card wins. In the event of a tie, the deck is shuffled and dealt again, and the pile of bets grows.
Lefty’s eyes flicked over all the cards turned over on the table. Gillem showed a rooster and a dog, and had withdrawn. The dwarf who had not revealed his name, as he didn’t speak, but grunted, had done the same, showing only a pair of weasels. All low cards. Scratch showed a bear and a ram, high cards. Lefty had a dog and a rat. He rubbed his chin. “Hmmmm …”
There were three of each animal represented. A rat was the lowest, and the dragon was the highest. No dragons were played, and Gillem and the dwarf had withdrawn. He could feel all eyes on him. Good. He looked at his last card again. A lion. Only a dragon could beat it. Out of the twelve cards on the table, only the dragons were loose, and two lions would tie.
“Watcha going to do, Lefty?” Gillem asked, his blurry eyes watering as he stuffed more tobacco in his pipe.
“Ah … I’m thinking, Master Gillem,” he said, scratching his head, “but this is pretty hard.”
Wham!
Lefty jumped as Scratch rapped his fist on the table and said, “Think faster, you little turd. I’m getting tired of waiting on you. Gillem, teach him cards elsewhere!”
Gillem glared at the man and said, “That’s Master Gillem, you son of a pick pocket! You best remember the order of things around here.”
Scratch sulked back in his chair as the rough hewn dwarf stuck a wad of chaw in his mouth.
“Apologies, Master Gillem. I’m just getting tired of his halfling's good fortune, is all. He’s fared well for someone that’s never played before,” he said, pouring more grog into his tumbler.
So I have him fooled, after all. Now all I have to do is figure out how to fool them all. His hand that he drummed his fingers with slid down to his tell. Do one thing so they think you are going to do another, Melegal had said. Lefty was beginning to understand all of these little lessons better. He’d been observing all of them, taking notice of what they did with a good hand or a bad hand.
Scratch’s tell was that he drank a little more with a good hand, and bit his inside cheek with a bad one. The dwarven man was a stone, however, and Lefty had the hardest time figuring him out. He didn’t talk; he grunted. He didn’t blink at all. All he did was chew and swallow the nasty tobacco juice. But, come to think of it, on a good hand he could hear the dwarf sucking the juice through his teeth, and on a bad hand he switched his chaw from one cheek to the other. And that left Master Gillem, who, as it turned out, had the easiest tell of all. Or was that just what he wanted him to see? On a good hand, he let out a plume of smoke, and on a bad hand he sucked the smoke in from his mouth and in his nose.
He took another peek at his card. Better let him win one. This is too easy.
“What’s the matter, did you forget what you got, Stupid?”
“No!” Lefty shot back. “Are you certain you don’t want to withdraw Scratch? I’ve got a pretty fine card!”
Scratch pushed another silver coin across and said, “Let’s see it, then.”
Lefty added his silver to the pile and flipped over his card.
“Ha!”
Scratch slapped a dragon card on top of his lion.
“Beat you again, halflings!” he said in elation, scooping the small pile of coins his way.
Lefty frowned, chin down, and said, “I’m sorry, Master Gillem. I really thought I had him. I really did.”
Gillem reached over, rubbed his head, and said, “That’s all right, Lad. You’re getting better. But sometimes you need to know when to withdraw and wait for the sure thing.”
Lefty nodded, locked eyes with Gillem, and said, “I know. Can I take a moment, go outside, and stretch my legs? Besides,” he said, fanning the smoke from his face, “I’m getting a bit of a headache.”
Gillem was shuffling the cards. “Be quick about it. You never know when Prince Palos will call. We must be ready.”
“Hah! I bet he’s having some good fun with her up there! I’d give a mouthful of silver just to watch,” Scratch said with a lusty look in his yellow eyes. “Give her a week, and she’ll be just as common as the rest of his whores.”
The man’s cold words felt like daggers in Lefty's back. Kam’s situation was his fault and his alone. Do something or die, Melegal had always said. He patted his belly. There was something in there he’d been careful to conceal from the rest of the guild, especially Gillem. Magic. He could use some, a little bit at least. And he knew that Palos had plenty of items at his disposal as well. If he could just get in there and get his hands on some, he could help. If I could just make it back to the Magi Roost. He fought an inner sob. What have I done to my friend? If I can't do anything else, I’ll at least save her baby. Whether his eyes were watering from tears or from the smoke, he did not know as he stepped over the threshold and outside.
“Ulp!” A pair of strong hands picked him up by the hair of his head.
He clutched at the hands that held him as he looked into the burnt and angry face of the man called Thorn.
“You halflings are going to d
ie,” he said in a garbled voice.
Lefty kicked him in his crooked nose.
“Ow! Blasted Halfing!” Thorn swung him by the head of hair, sending him flying back inside. He crashed into a table and whopped his head on the floor so hard bright spots burst forth. The sound of a sword slipping through the leather filled his ears as Thorn cried, “Gillem! You and this little boy are going to die tonight!”
CHAPTER 8
The City of Bone. It wasn’t a place Verbard ever would have imagined setting his foot in before. As he walked down a narrow alley followed by two dozen of his men, the feeling he had in his gut wasn’t something he had ever dealt with. He reached forward and tapped Jottenhiem on the shoulder. The underling fighter turned, a fierce grin under his ruby red eyes.
“My Lord,” he said.
Verbard raised a finger, his silver eyes flickering in the shadows of the midday sunlight. The city smelled far worse than he imagined it. How do men live in this wretched place? The underlings were notoriously clean by comparison. There were no slums in the underworld, just caves and caverns filled with creatures united in the working cause of destroying mankind.
“Let me send Eep ahead,” Verbard said. “We are getting very close to the people; I can hear them now. Many, many people.” He stuffed his fingers in his pockets and secured them on some magic objects. I have a feeling I’ll need all of this. Eep, what is ahead?
Somewhere, Eep sat on the ledge of a building at the end of an alley, peering downward.
People, Master. Many people, working, eating and waiting for me to kill them. Can I kill them all, Master?
Any soldiers?
No. Just sacks of soon to be rotting flesh. So many, Master. I cannot contain myself. Release me!
Be still, Eep. I have other plans for you.
Does it involve killing more people?
Certainly.
Verbard turned to his commander, Jottenhiem. “Our time to strike has come.” He looked back over his shoulder at the small group of underlings..
The swords of the twelve Juegen armored in black plate mail from head to toes gleamed in the dim light. Six badoon underlings in black leather hauberks stood with small crossbows and knives at the ready, and behind them were six magi, fingers glimmering with radiant power, eyes flickering under their hoods. No human could possibly be ready for this. Not even The Darkslayer, himself. A slender smile broke over Verbard’s lips. He was ready.
The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands Page 4