Ten Ruby Trick

by Julia Knight

  The Gan grunted behind him but hung back as Galdon led them off to a private room behind the bar.

  The cramped space was hot and smoky, dimly lit by guttering tallow lamps, and it took a moment for Van Gast’s eyes to adjust. Then Josie got up off a man’s lap, trailed a sensual hand across his shoulders and came toward Van Gast, smiling that lopsided grin.

  Forn’s bloody bells, she was alive and grinning at him and all he wanted to do was kiss her stupid. He held on to himself with difficulty. She’d not thank him for ruining whatever devious plan she had up her sleeve. Plenty of time later, he reminded himself. Plenty of time to take all the time he wanted.

  “Do sit down,” she said in a purr. The Gan’s meaty hand landed on his shoulder, and it was sit at the rickety table with the beer stains and rend-nut burns or get a bone broken. He sat.

  Van Gast looked round the room, noted several of her crew, but four more men he didn’t know. He studied the one whose lap she’d been sitting on. He’d be tall when he stood up, with a grave, weather-beaten face that looked as solid and still as a mask carved from wood, but the eyes were bright blue and full of sharp awareness. Shit, and the copper-bronze skin of a Remorian, the close-cropped black hair starting to grow out. But the only one of them like that. A rogue Remorian? Impossible, but all the rest were mainlanders, Van Gast was sure. The Remorian sat very straight, and Van Gast noted all the newcomers had upright postures, as though there was a string in the top of their heads and someone was holding them up. Like puppets.

  Like bonded slaves. What the fuck was she getting him involved in?

  The two who stood behind the seated guy looked uncomfortable in their brightly colored shirts and breeches, as though they weren’t used to them, and the hair was only just this side of what a respectable merchantman might wear. Not racketeers, that was certain, but trying to look like them. If he didn’t know Josie better, he’d suspect they were Remorian too—they might not have the skin color but they smelled Remorian, the reek of the islands—or some consortium of merchants wanting to take him out. As well they might. But Josie had as little cause as he did to seek Remorians out or trade with them, and some very powerful reasons not to.

  Still, best to be wary. “Got some new friends, I see.”

  She stood the other side of the table, magnificent as ever, and trailed a finger along the wood as she came round to him. “Very good friends.”

  Her voice was odd—heck, everything was odd, but her voice the most. Like hearing the dead speak. Her finger lifted from the table and ran up his arm, along his shoulder and round behind him. His neck twitched involuntarily when she caught at the sensitive spot just near his ear with an invisible caress.

  She leaned down close and her perfume washed over him. Peaches and honey, with an odd undercurrent to it that was perturbing. “But very, very stupid,” she whispered just to him. Then louder, “You know how I love a smart man.”

  He smiled smugly and raised an eyebrow. Oh yes, he did know.

  She twirled away from him and dropped into the chair opposite, all loose limbs and grace. Kyr’s mercy, he needed to kiss her right now.

  “Any idea where I can find one?” Her lips curved into the grin he knew so well.

  “Now wait a damn—” He was ready with an indignant retort. Only what she brought out of her shirt shut him up real quick. A ruby the size of his thumb. A fake ruby, one he’d seen many times before. What in the gods’ names…Ten Ruby Trick, was that what she was doing?

  “My friends know where there’s lots more.”

  He had to suppress a grin. Now he thought he might know what she was about. A scam, that was where she’d been all this time, setting up a twist, and of course she’d thought of him first when she needed an extra man or ship. Only she was going about it all from the wrong angle. He was the inside man on that trick, the mark was the extra help. She was playing him as the mark. Made no sense. It had worked all too well the way they’d played it before, long ago. Why change what worked? Unless—he looked sharply at her arms. Her wrists were bare, her shirt sleeves pushed up to the elbow. No scar, no bond. Not that then, so what was amiss?

  “Like the look of it?” She bounced the ruby along her knuckles, one way and back again, hypnotic.

  “It’s very nice. But what’s it got to do with me?”

  She leaned forward and let him get a good eyeful of her cleavage, smiled her lopsided smile at the way he didn’t even bother to hide where he was looking. “I know where there’s another ten the worth of these. At least. And I know a man who can get us in, and out again afterwards. Slick as you like.”

  The same old spiel. He knew his part; his only concern was whether Josie wanted his help scamming the guy over there, the one who stank more and more like a Remorian, or whether he was the one going to get scammed. He knew the Ten Ruby Trick like the back of his hand, and she knew it. She knew him too, knew he’d smell out what they were, that his trouble bone would be screaming just from them being in the room.

  He had to try and be smart, but she was the smart one when it came to running a twist. Think, man, think. She’s trying to tell you something.

  Josie wouldn’t make a deal with Remorians. She’d happily steal everything they had and maybe even share it with him, but he’d not got where he was by trusting people. But—he still couldn’t make any sense of it, so all he could do was play along until she told him. “Where? And why me?”

  “New Remorian mine, way up north, top of the Archipelago. They’re sending ships to bring it all back next full moon. If we get there first…” She stretched lazily and bounced the ruby across her knuckles again. “And you, why you? Because I need another ship, another crew, and much as I’m loath to admit it, you’re the best there is.”

  Van Gast sat up straight and puffed his chest out, playing the game. “There is that, of course. How do I know you and your man over there aren’t going to rip me off first chance you get? Come to that, how do I know he can get us in there? Because if he’s not a Remorian, I’m an honest man. What about his mage-bond?”

  Van Gast would have sworn he saw her flinch at that, a fleeting clench of every muscle, but it was gone before he could be sure. The man whose lap she’d sat on stood up, as tall as Van Gast had expected. “How do you know I’ve got one?” The accent was clipped, guttural—unmistakable when you had the ear for it.

  Van Gast shrugged and looked back at Josie as he spoke. “Smells like a Remorian, looks like a Remorian, sounds like a Remorian. If he can get us in and out of a Remorian warehouse, he is a Remorian. So he’s got a mage-bond on him. This is not a comforting thought.”

  Josie turned toward the guy, flicked her pale braids around her shoulders and raised an eyebrow in an I-told-you-so look before she turned back to Van Gast and took his hand. “That’s what we’re for. No bond on us. Holden here isn’t telling us, or helping us. Not really. But I do appear to have found a mislaid map. It’s quite detailed. And of course, Skrymir there behind you isn’t mage-bound.”

  Van Gast glanced up toward the Gan at his shoulder. Frankly, he was hard to miss. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

  Skrymir stretched his mouth in a nasty grin. “If we’d met before, you’d be dead by now.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” Van Gast turned back hurriedly to Josie. “That’s not enough and you know it. If he’s bound to keep the rubies, then what good will it do him for us to steal them? He can’t take his share, so what’s in it for him?”

  Josie ran her thumb over the back of Van Gast’s hand and looked into his eyes. Intent, serious. Certain. Willing him to do this, to play the game. Goose bumps ran up his arm. Wrong, it was all so wrong, but it was Josie…

  “No, but I’ve arranged to buy a certain trifle from him at a very inflated price. Once we have the rubies, that is.”

  Van Gast chewed at his lip. She knew he wouldn’t believe it—you couldn’t get round a bond like that. You couldn’t get round a bond at all. But the Remorian man, Holden, he might n
ot believe Van Gast would know that.

  Josie squeezed his hand. “It’ll work.”

  No, it won’t. But then that wasn’t what this was about, because they’d never make it to the mine. Whatever it was she was after, they’d get it way before then, once they were out to sea and away from any prying eyes. What in the gods’ names could it be, for her to act so oddly, to try and twist a Remorian of all people, and risk a bond? To dredge up this years-old scam, to look so gaunt and closed in on herself, even while she was stroking his hand and flirting with him?

  This wasn’t a Josie he knew and that thought chilled him, made his little-magics itch worse than ever. But he’d play the game, see how it went. Who knew what he could gain? Just have to keep a weather eye out. He could end up a deal richer, if Josie was true, and Josie was true, he’d bank his life on that. Yet, a Remorian? There was exciting-but-stupid and there was downright idiotic. The threat of a bond was maybe just a risk too far.

  “You know I don’t sail their waters or trade with them, and neither do you. There’s nothing worth the threat of a bonding.”

  She shrugged easily and flipped the ruby again. “A mile or two into their waters, no more. In and out before they can spot us. And what we’re after—what we’re after might be priceless.”

  Priceless? What was it this man had that made her so willing to do this, to piss off Remorians and risk a bond—that is, to risk everything they were? He looked around again. Holden watched him carefully. A canny man, that one. Not letting much show, but if you knew where to look…he was hiding something, plain as day. The tenseness of him, the muscles at his jaw slightly bunched. Impatient too, but neither of those things were a surprise, given the conversation.

  Josie looked at Van Gast equably and tipped him a sly wink, waiting for his decision.

  He had to keep up the act at least, the pretence that they hated each others’ guts. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because if I was going to kill you, I’d not fanny around like this. I’d just shoot you in the face.”

  “That’s true enough.” He let out a long breath as though taking a great gamble and tried to hide his smile. Josie had the slipperiest, twistiest mind he’d ever known, and that was saying something. Something priceless. If she had a plan, then he’d follow it. “Even split?”

  She grinned, and that was the old Josie. “You think I’d insult you with anything else?”

  “Deal then.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Holden watched the two of them carefully as they danced around with words, noted Josie’s coldness, Van Gast’s flip retorts that hid a sharp calculation. Something bubbled between them, a thread of the enmity they were so famed for. Van Gast’s eyes were the same black shade as his hair. Dark and unfathomable, though they seemed to be laughing at everything even as he and Josie sparred.

  The two of them sorted out the details, the timescale, the rendezvous. Josie arranged it just as he’d told her. Tarana, a little city on the mainland, not far from Remorian waters. Near where he’d arrested her. Two captured racketeers’ ships waited there already for Van Gast, crewed with Holden’s men. They’d take him, quickly and quietly, before Van Gast could suspect a double cross, and be back into Remorian waters before two bells had passed. With luck before Tarana’s authorities had noticed, because if they discovered what Holden was up to, that they were breaking the trade deal on no bonding in their waters, no Remorian ship would be able to berth there again.

  Van Gast jibed at some of Josie’s proposals, made a sharp comment or two and Josie held firm with a lewd insult. Then, before Holden was even aware it had happened, before Skrymir could draw his sword, Josie and Van Gast had their knives on each other.

  Holden had allowed Josie the small blade, safe in the knowledge she could do nothing to harm him or his. He’d failed to think she might kill Van Gast before he had a chance to arrest him. In one way, it’d fulfill the bond all too well, but that wasn’t what Holden wanted, or rather not what his Master wanted.

  Van Gast’s knife flicked toward her throat, found only the collar of her shirt as she ducked away with a riposte that almost ceased his chances of ever being a father. Holden barked a command at Skrymir, but he was already moving, trying to flank Van Gast while Holden grabbed for Josie.

  She dodged out of his way but lowered her knife with a pained grimace and a vicious glare as the bond stopped her skewering him. He could see it in her eyes, how little his life might be worth when he took that bond off and she was a free woman again. A clatter of steel behind warned him that Skrymir was not faring well against Van Gast.

  Holden turned, still feeling her eyes on his back, and wondered whether her hatred could work through that bond. He was speechless—he’d never seen any swordsman last long against Skrymir’s sheer brute force, but here was Van Gast, grinning as he stood atop the table and made his knife disappear. Skrymir stepped back, blood dripping from his nose and a gash along his ribs that stained his shirt a darker crimson in a rapidly swelling blot. His sword was stuck into the corner of the flimsy bamboo wall. Holden’s other men watched warily, swords at the ready but none too eager to challenge Van Gast without orders from Holden, if the way they hung back was anything to go by.

  “You want to keep her under control, if we’re going to do business. Women!” Van Gast said with a roll of his eyes and a sour smile. “And a word of advice—watch your own back. She’s one tricky bitch.”

  “Duly noted,” Holden said, and thought that was more truth than Van Gast could know. “Do we still have a deal?”

  Van Gast grinned and jumped down from the table, all loose limbs, swaggering arrogance and grinning dark eyes. “We do. But keep her on a lead, all right?”

  “I certainly will, you’ll face no danger from her.”

  “Then I’ll see you there. Be ready.” He was out of the door before any of Holden’s men could move.

  Holden rounded on Josie and shuddered inwardly at the way she looked at him, her eyes filled with only one thing—the need to have him dead. He ignored it as best he could. “What was that? Your bond’s to get him, not kill him.”

  Josie sheathed her knife and shrugged. “You never said he had to be alive. Thought I’d save you—and me—some time. I want this fucking thing off me.”

  Holden reached out and pulled her toward him, tried not to think of how she felt in his hand or what he’d done to her. Or what he was about to say. “You kill him and the bond stays, for good, and one on the boy. Bring him to Remorian justice, that’s your bond. Not kill him for your own hatred.”

  “Justice?” Josie spat onto the dusty floorboards. “Justice for what? He’s never sailed your waters, and neither have I. You took me outside your remit, by blind luck, because you had a mage find me. But what’s he done that makes you want him so bad?”

  Holden forced a smile and held her arm tight as they made their way out a back door into a dark alley stinking with refuse. In Wedding Dance week, people were too busy to be clean. “Skrymir?”

  The Gan looked up from where he held the gash on his ribs closed with one hand. “Not too bad, sir, just bleeding a lot. He’s damn handy with that knife, I’ll give him that.”

  Holden ordered one of the other men to bind Skrymir up before they went any farther, but Josie got there first. She ripped off a sleeve of her shirt to plug the gash and they managed a makeshift bandage. Skrymir said something in a language Holden didn’t understand, and Josie grinned at him, ignoring the looks of frank curiosity from the people walking past.

  Holden shifted uneasily. “You get straight to the healer once we’re on board. Place like this, Forn knows what muck could be in that wound.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “You owe me a new shirt.” Josie walked past Holden, heading for the jetty. Holden and his men followed her down a foggy alley. “So, you didn’t say. What’s the bastard done that makes you want him so bad?”

  Holden made sure to keep her close. She might be bonded but he still di
dn’t quite trust her not to try and disappear into the fog, even if the attempt would get her nowhere. “Not me. It’s not me who wants him. He’s a nuisance, but as you say, neither of you sail our waters. He took one very special ship. My Master…my Master is very upset. My Master wants to watch him wriggle in a bond, and so he shall.” Or I shall pay for it with pain, and so will you, and the boy. So will we all.

  “And who is your Master?” She shoved back against his hand but was only rewarded with a hiss of her own pain.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  The weather closed in as they got to the jetty where the dinghy waited. A stiff breeze swirled the fog into odd little patterns that scribed on the senses and made Holden’s head throb. Josie felt it too, snapped her head round to the source and peered into the miasma as though she could see through it. Her shoulders twitched and she shuddered. “Storm coming.”

  Holden knew as much himself but he said nothing, only gave orders to the hand in charge of the dinghy. The storm was a bad one—he could tell by the way his bones ached, the sense of dread foreboding that always came before a storm. But this area, this stretch of the coast, rarely had a bad storm. Rarely had any storm this time of year. The trade winds wouldn’t start again for two moons, and until then fog and more fog and only a breath of wind was the forecast. If it weren’t for the mages, true-mages for the racketeers and mages of the power for the Remorians, the ships would be becalmed. Until now.

  The breeze stiffened into a wind and stripped the fog from them in damp greenish streamers. Josie had her head cocked as though listening. Nothing to hear. Not the city behind or the ships ahead, anchored offshore. No shouts of revelry, no clang of a bell or creak of rope. Not the weird noises that often echoed through the fog like a ghost. Not a bird, not a splash. Nothing.

  Holden urged the rowers faster.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Josie’s gaze was far away. “We can’t sail in this, not in what’s coming. Typhoon. Even true-mages can’t calm them much.”