Weapon of Flesh
Page 37
“Paxal, you have once again served me well,” Mya said as the innkeeper moved about the room, clearing the glasses and small plates of tidbits that had gone largely untouched. She tossed a small pouch on the table. It landed heavily. Thick gold coins rattled inside as it vanished into the innkeeper’s hand. “I will require the room in three days. Until then, please see that my presence in your establishment remains a secret.”
“My pleasure, Mistress Mya,” he said with a bow, turning to leave.
“And you, Lad,” she said, turning to her silent partner in this dangerous gambit. “Thank you. Your presence is the only reason I’m still breathing.” She withdrew another pouch from a pocket and held it out before her. “I don’t suppose you’d consider trading that ring in your pocket for this?”
“No, I wouldn’t, Mya.” He narrowed those luminous eyes at her and smiled thinly.
“Oh fine. You really need to learn some humor, Lad. Take the money. You’ve earned it. Go spend it on that innkeeper’s daughter of yours.” She thrust the pouch at him.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, he took it.
“I still will not kill for you, Mya,” he said, tucking the pouch into the belt of his trousers. “Not now, and not ever.”
“And I won’t ask you to, unless it’s to defend me from those jackals.” She moved to the rack in the corner and removed a heavy cloak of crimson-dyed wool. She drew it over her shoulders and tied the clasp with a smile. “Our partnership is simple, Lad. Don’t read more into it than is really there. You protect me and help me change the guild into something slightly less brutal, and I keep you safe from the Royal Guard and keep Youtrin’s racketeers out of the Tap and Kettle.” She paused and checked the weapons hidden inside the heavy cloak. “Personally, I think you’re getting the better end of the deal.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, his eyes raking over her and, she knew, cataloging every one of her hidden surprises.
“Out.” He didn’t need to know anything more.
“Should I accompany you?” He nodded to the back door. “The others could have someone waiting for you.”
“No, Lad. Not tonight. I’m... meeting someone.”
“Who?”
He was still so naive that she had to smile. “A friend, Lad. That’s all you need to know.”
“Good.” He smiled and nodded at her, his strange honest features relaxing somewhat. “It’s good that you have a friend, Mya.”
“Yes.” She had to smile again. “Yes, it is good. And thank you, if I didn’t tell you before. I owe you a lot.”
She held out her hand to him then, and he took it, though she did notice that he checked to make sure that she wasn’t wearing a ring on that hand before he carefully matched grips with her.
“You are welcome, Mya,” he said as their hands parted. “I still do not trust you, you know, but.... Well, I suppose there is no harm in trying.”
“No, Lad. No harm at all.”
“Goodnight, Mya,” he said, heading for the door. She knew where he was going, so there was no need to ask. She thought not for the first time that Lad was wasting his time with that innkeeper’s daughter, but it really wasn’t her business. The door closed, and she waited a few moments before following.
The night was cool and a light rain fell, dampening the air and her high spirits. She had never liked the rain, especially the cool rains of winter. She could never get warm enough, and always felt like her feet would stay wet forever.
She stayed to the shadows, more from habit than from any need for concealment, and made her way a few blocks north and east. She made sure that her enthusiastic bodyguard was not following her by doubling back a few times, ducking into a couple of pubs and exiting through different doors than she entered. Lad could have followed her through the open streets without her knowing, she knew, but she doubted he could manage to keep track of her through the noisy public houses.
Finally, she entered the stately inn that was her destination. She passed through the common room without a nod to anyone; the room had been reserved in advance. Besides, the proprietor knew her and knew what she was; he would not have interfered with her if she’d walked in without a penny in her pocket and claimed the finest suite. When the landing of the third floor was finally beneath her boots and the noise of the rowdy common room was dampened and distant, she felt secure in the reality that she had reached her goal without being observed. The proprietor of the inn was the only person who knew who she was meeting here, and he knew equally well that he would be dead by morning if he betrayed that trust.
The key in her pocket worked the latch without a hitch, and she slipped into the room without any more sound than the click of it locking behind her.
“Hello, my dear,” her clandestine associate said in a soothing even tone. He knew she was uncomfortable with this, and his calming manner was to set her at ease. He almost accomplished it.
“Hello,” she said, releasing the clasp on her cloak and hanging it on one of the pegs behind the door. “Are you ready for me?”
“Presently, my dear. Just make yourself comfortable.”
She knew what he meant, so she hung her sword belt on another peg and slipped off her high, soft boots. The hard mattress creaked as she sat and loosened her tunic lacings. She watched him covertly as she drew it over her head and folded it neatly, but he kept his attention on his work. The light chemise came over her head and was folded atop her tunic on the small night table. She stood, removed her trousers and added them to the pile. Her thin scanties and socks, she kept, the former for some modicum of modesty, the latter because her feet got cold.
Next was the hardest part, as far as she was concerned; she lay on the bed and tried to relax, tried to think of something else, tried not think at all. She tried not to listen to the tick, tick, tick of metal against porcelain, tried not to hear the droning of his voice, tried not to wonder about the words she could never understand. As with so many things she tried, she failed.
“Ready, my dear?
She forced herself to answer, willing her voice to radiate the calm that she did not feel. “Ready, Vonlith.”
“Very good.” She closed her eyes and felt him move to the side of the bed. “Now, just try to relax, my dear.”
“Just shut up and do it,” she snapped, steeling her nerves for that first prick of the needle and the overwhelming rush of the magic.
Epilogue
“It’s late, Wiggen,” Forbish said, taking the mop from her weary grasp and resting a comforting hand on her drooping shoulder.
“Is it?” She looked around the common room, brushing a lock of hair back from her face. All the guests had gone to bed. The fire was burning low, and the lamps had been turned down. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You should go to bed. We can finish up here.”
“I’m fine, Father.” She wiped her hands on her apron and sniffed, blinking away unshed tears. She’d been thinking while she mopped, and time had fled. “I’ll get the dinner dishes, and then go to bed.”
“The dishes are done, Honey. Josie did ’em, and those two rascal nephews of hers have the kitchen clean as a whistle.” Forbish leaned back and stuck his thumbs in the tie of his apron. “Never thought those two would take to work like fish to water.”
“It’s because you pay them too much, Father,” Wiggen said humorlessly, loosening her own apron strings and drawing it over her head. “I am a little tired. If you’re sure you don’t need me, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Everything’s fine, Honey. You just get some sleep. You’ve been looking far too tired lately. You need your rest.”
She could hear the concern in his voice, and felt guilty for it. “I... don’t sleep much, Father. I know I should, but something keeps me awake.” She rubbed her eyes with her apron and shrugged, trying to smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, you just don’t worry about anything, and try to think of happy things. That always works for me.” He wrapped a massive arm
around her shoulder and guided her down the hall to her room. “We’ve got our health, business has picked up, and we’re not bothered by those blasted ruffians any more. There’s nothing to keep you awake but what’s in the past, Honey. Let it go and you’ll sleep.”
“I know, Father,” she said, nodding to his wisdom. “I know he’s gone, but sometimes it’s like he visits me in my dreams, but I’m not dreaming, not even sleeping.”
“It’ll ease in time, Wiggen. Just think of the life that’s ahead of you. That’s what’s important now.”
They stopped at her door, and she turned and embraced him heartily, though her hands still wouldn’t touch around his substantial girth.
“I will, Father.” She squeezed as hard as she could, and felt him sigh in contentment. It was all she could give him. “I love you, Father.”
“And I you, Wiggen. More than life itself.” His thick arms enfolded her, and she felt utterly safe and at home. “Now get some sleep.”
“I’ll try.” She opened her door and stepped through, smiling back at him as she turned up the lamp. “Goodnight, Father.”
“Goodnight, Wiggen.” The door clicked closed, and she wished not for the first time that there were a lock.
Before she could even turn, hands slipped around her waist, quiet as a breath of midnight shadow, soft as a feather in the wind, and warm. Oh, they were so warm.
“You’re becoming quite an actress, but that was a little too close to the truth, Love,” Lad breathed into her ear. “Something keeps you awake, does it?”
“Something does keep me awake,” she said, turning in his embrace until their faces were a hair’s breadth apart, his breath warm on her cheek. “It’s been keeping me awake almost every night for weeks, and I just don’t know what to do about it.” She let her hands explore under his silken shirt and suppressed a giggle. Their lips met and his warmth invaded her, leaving her breathless and hungry.
When their lips parted he said, “I’ve brought you a present.”
“A present?” She smiled at him and ran her fingers through her hair. “For me?”
“Yes.” He held up before her eyes a ring of braided obsidian and gold. “It’s very important, Wiggen. It’s a secret, and you must promise me never to put it on. If you do, it will never ever come off. You’ve got to keep it safe, just in case...”
“In case what?” She took it from him and looked at it. It wasn’t particularly pretty, and she felt no desire to slip it on her finger.
“In case I have to kill someone,” he said, shaking his head slowly.
“I’ll keep it safe, Lad. Don’t worry.” She dropped the ring into the pocket of her dress and forgot about it. She wouldn’t let such a trifle ruin their evening.
“I’m sorry about this, Wiggen. Having to sneak in here like this.” His face drew serious, his eyes longing. “Asking you to lie to Forbish. Keeping our love a secret. We should be able to be together all the time, day and night, forever.”
“We will be, Lad,” she said, drawing him to her once again. “One day, when they aren’t looking for you any longer.”
“But that could be years, Wiggen.”
“I don’t care,” she breathed into the hollow of his neck, relishing his scent. She walked him backward until his legs struck the edge of her bed and they tumbled onto the thick coverlet together. “Because, until dawn, you’re mine.”
About The Author
Chris Jackson was born and raised in southern Oregon. The son of a fisherman, he fell in love with the sea at an early age. His second love is Science Fiction and Fantasy, hooked by the works of Heinlein, Niven and Tolkien. He attended college at Oregon State University with the dream of becoming a marine biologist. He moved to Texas to attend graduate school, where he discovered three things: scientists don’t sail the seven seas, he didn’t want to spend his life drowning in academic red tape, and the girl of his dreams.
Together they moved to Florida, where they live on a sailboat with two psychotic felines. He has been writing for about 16 years.
Learn more about Chris A. Jackson, preview free chapters of all his novels, and download audio books at www.jaxbooks.com.
Novels by Chris A. Jackson
Published by Jaxbooks
A Soul for Tsing
Weapon of Flesh
Deathmask
With Anne L. McMillen-Jackson
The Cornerstones Trilogy:
Zellohar
Nekdukarr
Jundag
Published by Dragon Moon Press
Scimitar Seas Novels
Scimitar Moon
Scimitar Sun
Scimitar’s Heir
Scimitar War (coming in 2012)
Audiobooks by Chris A. Jackson
Cheese Runners
Cheese Rustlers
Cheese Lords
Download free chapters and audiobooks at
www.jaxbooks.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright
Prelude
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Epilogue
About the Author
Novels by Chris A. Jackson
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright
Prelude
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Epilogue
About the Author
Novels by Chris A. Jackson