Tears of the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  ♥♥♥

  Swallowing the sour taste in her mouth, Perdita wove through the tables and chairs in the punch house and approached the man she had spotted in the back. Smelly Sal Burns—aptly named due to his aversion to bathing and his delight in setting his enemies on fire. She’d crossed paths with the bloater ten years ago in this same town and was pleased to discover he was still in charge—at least over most of the dock area, where he extorted money from patrons in exchange for protection from roving bandits, pirates, and other disreputable sorts.

  Ignoring the catcalls and whistles flung her way as she passed, she stopped before his table, circled by several of his worshiping toadies. Delight twinkled in the eyes of the two burly guards flanking the corpulent man. One of them cleared his throat, and ole Smelly Sal looked up from his drink, his brows rising and his ever-present bawdy sneer growing wider.

  “Perdita! My sweet Perdita. Do me bloomin’ eyes deceive me?” He struggled to lift his wide frame from the chair and then attempted to squeeze through the crowd. Cursing, he shoved his men aside and gripped Perdita’s shoulders, wafting her with a stench that stung her nose. “Why, look at ye!” He took a step back. “Ye haven’t aged a bit.”

  But Smelly Sal had. Amazing what ten years of dissipated living could do to a man. Which made her thankful more than ever that she had not given herself to this stinky oaf. Nay, ’twas one of his men who’d caught her eye instead. A swarthy man with exotic looks, a keen mind, and the heart of a saint. Or so she’d thought.

  “We all age.” She gave Sal a coy look. “Some more than others, apparently.” She tugged on his gray beard while studying his prominent belly. His men laughed. Thankfully so did Sal. Though he was the most feared and ruthless man in town, his infatuation with her had always given her a speck of freedom. Within reason, of course. She knew there was a line she could never cross with this dangerous man.

  Which was precisely why she’d sought him out.

  “Have a seat, my fair one.” He hoisted one of his men by the collar and shoved him away, gesturing toward the seat. “Tell old Sal what a beauty like you has been up to since I seen you last.” Perdita sat, and Sal pushed one of his men’s untouched mugs of ale her way. Grumbling, the man rose and left.

  “We ain’t seen ye since Waden died.” Sal’s right-hand man said with a hint of suspicion.

  Perdita studied the foam atop her ale, trying to hide the fact that her heart sank into her stomach. Waden, Ivan number twenty-nine, had died because of her. Not directly, but on his way to help her, his ship went down in a storm. Of course, if he’d made it to the island she’d directed him to, he would have faced fifty savages who would have accused him of stealing their golden idol. But that was another story.

  Sal leaned toward her, a twinkle in his hooded eyes. “Come back to grovel at me feet? Regret not takin’ me up on me offer?”

  Her sumptuous dinner of roast beef with mushroom cream sauce curdled in her stomach. “Tempting.” She smiled. “However, I have a different sort of offer in mind.” She sipped the ale, and her lips puckered. She never did like the taste of it.

  “From this angle, I see only one offer which’ll please me.” He scooted his chair back and slapped his knee. “Come sit on ole Sal’s lap.”

  She’d rather boil in oil.

  A breeze swept in, flickering the lantern on the table as Sal’s men eyed her expectantly, knowing that no one defied one of Sal’s orders and lived.

  A strident tune blared from a piano in the corner, grating over her already tight nerves. Trying to gather herself, she leaned back in her chair and fingered the embroidered ruffle at the end of her sleeve.

  “I have a better proposition—that I come work for you,” she said with a confident tone.

  “Just the thing I had in mind.” Sal licked his lips, and his men chuckled and grunted like pigs in heat.

  Ignoring them, Perdita feigned a look of nonchalance. “Word about town is that Major Tombay sits on a fortune in gold coin at that well-guarded estate of his. I also hear he still owns half the town just like he did ten years ago, taking money from citizens to protect them from you.” Corrupt politicians disgusted her more than thieves and thugs. At least the latter were honest about their sins. “Pray, do tell me what it is like playing second fiddle to the likes of him all these years?”

  Tension strung over Sal’s men like rope in a tight wind. Some backed their chairs away from the table, out of the path of retribution, she suspected. The guards framing the chubby sod drew close, glaring at Perdita as if they would run her through. She dared them with her eyes to do just that. If only it were that easy.

  Sal’s face bloated like a puffer fish, his eyes narrowing to pointy spears, and for a moment she thought he’d do to her what he’d done to so many who dared defy or insult him—torture them for days and then set them on fire. A rather gruesome prospect for one who wouldn’t die.

  But then his half-smiled revealed yellowed teeth, and his belch preceded laughter that was immediately mimicked by his dutiful parrots.

  “An’ just what type of work are ye proposin’, fair one?”

  “What you asked me to do before. What you know I’m fully capable of doing.” She smiled sensuously.

  “Aye, I’ll not deny that. But why the change o’ heart after ten years?”

  “Let’s just say I’m in need of some money.”

  He glanced at the new gown she’d purchased today and disbelief traveled across his lined features, but then he took a swig of ale. “An’ what’s in it fer me?”

  “Need you ask? His fortune—minus my share—and his humiliation. And a way into his estate to rid him of the army he’s hired to protect his interests.”

  “An’ what of you? You could no doubt work your way into his graces and get his money without my help.”

  “I detest the man,” she returned with spite. Though, in truth, she’d never met him. When Sal eyed her with suspicion, she added, “He banished a lover of mine from town.”

  This seemed to appease him as he nodded with a snort.

  Perdita grinned. “Just think, you’ll be king of Kadon within days.”

  The resulting pride and greed swept away any misgivings Sal might have had as he raised his mug to her in a toast.

  She tapped her fingers on the table. Good. The trap was set. She had only to do what she did best and then hope Savion would come to her rescue.

  Chapter 13

  The uneasiness that had begun in Savion two days ago grew stronger with each passing minute. Unsure whether to leave for Brayton or stay in Kadon stirred his normal confidence into a cauldron of uncertainty.

  “You don’t seem yourself, Captain.” Nuto’s loud remark drew Savion’s gaze to the lithe man sitting across from him.

  “Aye, something bothering you?” Petrok said between mouthfuls of roasted boar, yams, and biscuits—fresh food they normally didn’t get while out at sea. Orange slices peeked above a bowl at the center of the table like myriad rising suns. Plucking one, Hona slid it into his mouth.

  “Nothing. Just determining our next course.” The ship creaked and groaned over a wavelet while a breeze entered through the open stern windows and fluttered the candles atop the table.

  “The ship’s been ready for days,” Verrad pointed out. “I found a merchant in need of transport for his goods: foodstuffs and tools. Why not just head out? I grow tired of this town.”

  “Gone through all the women and wine already?” Petrok snickered, causing Verrad to grin mischievously.

  Shaking his head, the first mate turned to Savion. “You sensed trouble in Brayton, did you not? I say we go there and teach those Malum another lesson.”

  “Always anxious for a fight, Petrok.” Savion smiled. “Sometimes it’s best to wait and make sure your move is the right one.”

  “With that I will agree.” Verrad set down his fork and poured more wine into his cup. “It’s foolish to continue with these minor skirmishes—saving one person here and one th
ere, a small village and then a fishing boat or merchantman. How is that going to help our cause in the long run?”

  Hona frowned. “It’s not about a cause, Verrad. It’s about people.”

  Verrad’s dark eyes shifted to Savion. “Yet our cause is to save as many people as possible from Natas’s clutches, isn’t that right, Captain? Why help one or two when we can help thousands?” He sipped his wine, then lowered the mug with an ominous clank. “When we defeat Natas and we—I mean you—finally rule over the Ancient Seas, think of the good we could do.”

  Yet the sparkle in his eyes was not of benevolence but of power and greed.

  Nuto slumped in his chair. “We can never defeat Natas. He has too many warriors. He’s crushed every force that has come against him. Who are we but a ship full of do-gooders?”

  “Ah, but that is where you are wrong.” Petrok pointed his knife at the man. “We have Savion Ryne as captain.” He faced Savion. “And the power that rests on you is not of Erden. We have all seen it”—he glanced over the others—“and we cannot deny that it is Savion’s destiny to rule the people in goodness and truth.”

  Though touched by the man’s confidence in him, a piece of Savion’s heart began to chip away as he listened to his men. “So you all wish to rule? Is that why you joined my crew?”

  “No, Captain.” Hona spoke up with urgency. “I follow you because I cannot do otherwise. You are good and strong and kind, and those few we save from Natas are enough.”

  Savion gripped Hona’s arm, warmed by his friend’s affection.

  Verrad tossed his drink to the back of his mouth and poured another cup.

  Nuto helped himself to more rice. “You are our friend and our captain, Savion. Being with you and serving on the Scepter is an honor.”

  Petrok looked up, his eyes flashing. “But should you desire to rule, Captain, we would be honored to serve you. I have grown quite fond of saving the world. I will always stand with you. No matter what.”

  “Even should we face certain death?” Savion raised a brow.

  “Of course!” Petrok gave an indignant huff, and the others added their agreement.

  Later that night, after most of his crew had retired, Savion stood at the stern of the ship gazing over the flickering lights of Kadon, fingering his medallion and searching for wisdom, strength, and direction. The pull to go fight in Brayton was strong, but a stronger sense had emerged from within him, deep in his spirit. It called to him from Kadon, hailing him from the streets, whispering to him in a siren’s song.

  Something or someone was trying to get him to leave this city. The absence of Malum, the miraculous ease and rapidity of his ship repairs, this lure from Brayton that came not from within but from without. Something was amiss. His spirit could not find peace. And until it did and he received clear direction, he intended to stay where he was.

  ♥♥♥

  It hadn’t been easy to track the Scepter, especially through a summer squall, but Damien’s life had never been easy, and he’d grown accustomed to the disfavor of the gods. Regardless, he always won in the end. Not with luck—with hard work, wits, and drive. That’s all a man needed. If the gods hadn’t wanted him to succeed, they shouldn’t have given him all three of those qualities. During his forty years in Erden, he’d battled his way up from being a poor orphaned son to a man who owned two islands and ran three of the most successful businesses in the Ancient Seas. Not only that, he was allied with the most powerful general of all time. Every citizen in every port on every street parted the way for Damien when he passed. Men bowed before his wealth and power. The strong conquered the weak. It was the way of the world.

  And because he was strong, he would have revenge for his father’s death.

  Though Damien detested politics, he rather liked Natas’s way of governing—by fear and force—as long as Damien was the one invoking both. After all, he was doing the people of Erden a favor. Most were so ignorant and inept they couldn’t care for themselves. They needed someone to tell them what to do, how to live, what to eat, even what to believe. Yes indeed, Damien was just the man for the job. He didn’t even mind sharing the power with Natas, as long as the general accomplished what he promised he’d do—take the kingdom from King Abbas. Then Damien’s final dream would come true. Traveling to Nevaeh where he’d heard the streets were paved in gold and the walls and gates were made of gemstones! Ah, the riches King Abbas hoarded for himself. But soon they would be Damien’s.

  The only thing standing in his way was one silly mermaid.

  Now, as his men rowed him to Kadon’s shore, he could almost smell her fishy scent, could almost see the pearls streaming down her cheeks. Once he captured her, not only his revenge but his wealth and power would be complete.

  ♥♥♥

  All it took was two days—two days of Perdita’s feminine charms—and she had Mayor Tombay following her around, begging her favors like a starving puppy. She was quite pleased with herself, actually. After Savion’s constant dismissal, she’d started to believe she’d lost her touch. Not true. Even the stodgy, distrusting recluse of a mayor had been bewitched the minute she’d turned her charm on him.

  She distracted the guard on the east gate of the mayor’s estate, knocked him out, tied him up, and then left the gate open. Now, all there was to do was get the mayor drunk and find the gold. Soon, Sal and his men would arrive. During their fight with the guards, Perdita would escape with a good portion of the pompous man’s fortune.

  When Sal discovered her betrayal, it would infuriate him to the point of boiling.

  She hoped he’d follow his normal punishment of first flogging her in public. That should give Savion enough time to rescue her before Sal burned her at the stake. She shivered at the thought of enduring that kind of pain without the release death would bring. But surely Savion would come. The Scepter was still in the harbor, and she had seen his men around town. If he could sense distress and injustice miles away, he would certainly sense the danger surrounding her.

  Two hours later, with the mayor passed out on his bed and most of his gold in two pouches hidden behind a Cassia tree near the back entrance, Perdita opened the gate for Smelly Sal and his men. He placed a wet kiss on her cheek as he passed, leading his band of ruffians into the courtyard and house. She swiped his saliva away with the sleeve of her gown as the clank of blade and the crack of pistol soon saturated the air, joined by shouts and shrieks.

  Grabbing the bags of gold, Perdita slipped out the gate and sped into the night. Sal was no fool. She must hide herself as if she were truly trying to evade capture, or the man would smell a trap. Though to what end, he would never imagine. First, she would enjoy doing something that would only increase Sal’s fury when he found out.

  Give all the money to the poor.

  ’Twas one of her favorite pastimes during the ephemeral redemption, which she always tried to squeeze in between seducing her latest would-be-lover. Now, carrying two bags bulging with coin, she combed the dark streets, seeking those in need. Kadon harbored many such unfortunates: a woman and her two children curled up in an alleyway; a lame man, skin leathered by the sun, hand outstretched to passersby; a band of orphans scouring through refuse for scraps to eat.

  She spread her gold among them all until there was no more, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Then after paying the rest to a drunken sailor for a spot in the hold of a ship departing the next day, she settled down with the bilge and the rats and waited to be found.

  By first light, as expected, the sailor’s loose tongue had spread tales of a beautiful woman aboard his ship, and ole Smelly Sal Burns descended into the hold, eyes crazed with hatred and death stalking in his wake.

  Clutching her arm, he dragged her back to port, cursing and spitting and foaming like some mad monster from a mythical tale. “Ye know what I do with those who betray me? I make them wish for death!”

  Too late, she already did.

  ♥♥♥

  “Captain, the od
ds are not good … even for you.” Hona yanked Savion’s arm back, forcefully stopping the captain’s determined march into the center of the mob.

  Wrenching his arm away, Savion growled, focusing on the disturbing scene before him. Why did the daft woman always cause trouble? Why could she not behave? But more importantly, why could he not leave her be? His heart rattled with every jangle of the chains pinning her to the whipping post. His anger grew at the blood streaming from her bound wrists, the scratches covering the bare skin of her back, exposed through her shredded gown, and her defeated silence.

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and scanned the crowd shouting with raised fists for her to be flogged—the wealthiest of the townsfolk in their plumed hats, lace cravats, and silk flounces shimmering in the noonday sun. His eyes landed on Smelly Sal Burns. Savion had no quarrel with him, though he was sure the man was not without fault. His reputation as a bully and a crook were well known throughout Kadon. In fact, Savion had rescued more than one person from his clutches over the years.

  As he would have to do now. Even though Perdita had obviously stolen from him. Or from someone. And then given it all to the poor! Savion squeezed the bridge of his nose, still trying to make sense of it. Word of her actions spread rapidly throughout the sleepy city until in the wee hours of the morning one of Savion’s powder boys, who’d spent the night in town, came rowing out to the ship with news of a strange woman’s charity—a rare occurrence in this town.

  Rarer still for a woman as self-serving as Perdita. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

  A commotion pulled Savion’s attention to a band of armed men pressing in at the back of the crowd. A tall, regal-looking man in a satin jerkin braided in gold with a fountain of Caestrian lace at his throat marched through the mob that parted for him as if he were royalty. He stopped in the center of the square as if he owned it and stared at Perdita with intense interest before sweeping a look of dismissal at Savion. Verrad jolted beside him.