by Aaron Crash
Inside, he took her hard, up against her desk, ramming into her until he’d shaken her schoolwork to the ground. She had this need, this fearful need, and he guessed it was all wrapped up in her recent worries. She’d been troubled even before someone tried to kill him.
Lillee needed him, and he gave himself to her until he couldn’t hold back. He gripped her ass, digging his fingers into her soft skin. So hot. Scalding. Like the fire he’d survived. In fact, she felt hotter, and so much wetter.
He grunted as he filled her.
It was Jennybelle that collected the Sullied elf’s clothes from the sea alley and brought them into his sea cell.
The swamp woman smiled. “You two wanna buy some clothes?”
Lillee giggled.
Jenny laid the clothes on the table. “Now, I’ve been doing some extra studying myself. “Jelu jelarum!” The door glowed silver, as did the window. “If anyone tries to come through, or if they try to cast magic, I’ll know.” Her blue eyes blazed. “Now, boy, do I get my turn?”
She did get her turn, and a few more besides.
Chapter Twelve
A WEEK LATER, YMIR was in another damn boat, with Jenny and Lillee, rowing away from the hidden docks at the bottom of Vempor’s Cape. Ymir wore the Black Ice Ring. Off campus, no one would question it.
Another week had come and gone. There had been no more attempts on his life, and all three of them cast Jenny’s Flow cantrip in their rooms to set simple wards. That wouldn’t stop anyone, but it would give them some warning.
The rain had let up for a bit midweek but seemed keen on drowning them on Friday. There was a faint gray light from the western horizon, but the world was mostly clouds and falling water. It wasn’t warm, either, and Ymir was grateful for his storm cloak. He had the cowl back. The work of rowing the boat kept him warm. The water that did trickle down his spine felt good.
The two women were silent and tense. Jenny had her worries chewing on her. Lillee did as well. At some point, Ymir would have to drag the truth out of them both.
The swamp woman knelt on the bow, holding a hooded lantern enchanted with Sunfire magic, but something more than a cantrip. That was major arcana—one of the five Categoria Magica, probably fascinara, which enchanted items. While all the Studiae Magica had the five categories, Form magic usually worked best for fascinara.
In just one week, he’d learned so much, and he’d worked harder than ever before. He liked the effort—it made his time at the college seem worth the trouble. And there was trouble, on every side. He was still wondering if he should tell the Princept someone had tried to kill him in the showers. He thought maybe it was a good idea, but only after they took care of some business first. He might be able to convince the Princept to let him have access to the Scrollery. Jennybelle thought there might be other warding cantrips down there like the ones she knew.
But really, they needed the Veil Tear Ring.
Ymir wondered if he should just break into the Scrollery and take what he wanted. That was an option, but it would be difficult, and if he were caught, he’d be expelled. That didn’t scare him; he’d almost been expelled once before. However, if he had been, he wouldn’t have found out about the new ring. While he didn’t like it, he was recognizing the value of Old Ironbound. And of the people there. Still, he didn’t enjoy walking around wondering when something might cook him in flames. Or would they poison his food? And why him?
Jenny had suggested another possible suspect—Nan and her xocalati shop. If she or her fairy got wind of the competition, they might send an assassin to kill Ymir. He thought that was impossible. No one knew about their enterprise except for Tori and Mimi. Both seemed trustworthy.
Ymir had said that out loud. Jenny had laughed and called him incredibly naïve.
The women were quiet as they rode the waves, which, considering the wind, weren’t bad. He’d seen the surf far worse. He’d brought his ax, his hatchet, and his new knife. Jennybelle had her own dagger, the Sapphire Fang. Lillee had her magic. She’d learned to summon icicles and could stab with them, as well as hurl them with exceptional force. Still only cantrips, they didn’t use too much of her dusza—the force within them that fueled their spells. Lillee and Jenny had to be careful. Without Focus Rings, they could drain their dusza accidentally, and that could kill them. Old Ironbound had lost imprudens before like that.
Mimi arranged a meeting with the smugglers through the woman who ran the StormLight lighthouse at the mouth of Angel Bay. Her real name was Sueza Detta Dean, but everyone called her Damnation Sue. She had a soft spot for sailors, whores, and smugglers.
Ymir rowed them, hoping this trip to the AngelTeeth Islands went better than the last one. He also hoped the boat made it. Jenny had some trouble hiring another one after word got out she’d destroyed the last one.
StormLight had a small dock on the leeward side of the shit-stained rock where it sat. The seagulls as well as the sea cows used it as a toilet. Ymir had also heard tavern talk that the merfolk didn’t piss in their ocean. Some old sailor at the Angel’s Kiss in StormCry claimed to have seen a merman shit, and the sight had scarred him forever—he’d clawed one eye out himself and now wore a patch. However, he was quick to say he kept his good eye open in hopes of seeing a mermaid relieve herself. That drew howls of derision and a fight. The drunk old sailor hadn’t fared well.
The merfolk were bad business, though. No one liked them. Ymir wondered why any of the strange fish people left the ocean to attend the Majestrial. It was one of the many mysteries he still had to unravel.
Ymir rowed them close to the leeward dock. Another ship was already there, a larger craft with a sail, though all the canvas had been put away. Lillee held their lantern while Jenny deftly leapt out and tied them up. They left the boat with their weapons ready. Ymir had his ax over his shoulder. It felt good to feel its weight. Those curved Gruul swords seemed so light in comparison.
A well-worn path led from the dock to the lighthouse, splitting halfway and going down steps that led to Damnation Sue’s cottage. A barn-like storeroom lay on the other side of the lighthouse, on the windward side of the slim island.
Jenny gave the other sailboat a quick glance. She nodded. “That’s a Scatter Islands dinghy. This gives me hope.” She carried their shecks, fifty platinum pieces she had in her waterproof satchel, sealed by more Flow magic, another bit of fascinara. In this case, Flow was better than Form.
Ymir had to admit that sorcery was infinitely useful. It was why he hadn’t shattered his dusza when he had the chance. To think, if they had the Veil Tear Ring, they might know what dangers they would face on the island. For now, they would have to feel their way forward blind.
The StormLight rotated above, several stories tall, blazing in the dark. On the way in, Ymir had watched the light flash several times a minute.
He led the way up the path. From his time drinking at the Angel’s Kiss Inn, he’d learned about Damnation Sue. She’d been described as old, thin, and half crazed. She lived alone on StormLight with only a cat to keep her company. Her cottage was down from the lighthouse itself, and the lights were on in the window. Another shack housed a boat, and there was a track that rolled down to another dock. That was how she got to the mainland and back.
Mimi said the smugglers were old friends of Damnation Sue, and she’d cover for them all. As long as they didn’t give the smugglers money, they weren’t breaking any laws. The Undergem Guild couldn’t come after them, nor could the constables of the Sorrow Coast Kingdom in StormCry. The worst that would happen was a stiff fine for trespassing on the island. They would address the terms of the payment later.
He stopped at the apex of the path. The door to the lighthouse was open. The storeroom on the other side was shuttered tight against the rain. Ymir took the lantern from Lillee. She was pale and clearly worried. Water dribbled down her face.
He gave her a little smirk to show he wasn’t afraid. In fact, part of him hoped the smugglers would try to tak
e their money without giving them the xoca beans. A real fight would feel good after all the subterfuge. He’d kill every last one of them.
He stepped up to the lighthouse. Jenny and Lillee kept back.
Inside, a single candle lit a table where a woman sat, along with a man and another woman. One of the women was Damnation Sue—she was old and thin, and by the glint in her eye, it was clear she was actually fully crazed. Her blond hair had gone gray, and what wasn’t gray was white. It was a messy nest on top of her withered skull. Cat hair covered her shawl, which she clutched to her chest in claw-like fingers. The crone grinned at him.
“You don’t look like you have a sweet tooth, dearie,” the crone wheezed. “I do, though. You’ll bring ol’ Damnation Sue some xocalati, won’t you?”
“It’s a good bet I will if there’s no trouble,” Ymir growled. He set his ax down. The lighthouse was too cramped a space to wield his battle ax well. If attacked, he’d use his hand ax and his dagger. “Are we going to have trouble?”
The crone cackled. “I certainly hope not. I can’t use my little finder’s fee if I’m dead. This is Salt Love and Sambal.”
Salt Love was the woman, and she had dusky skin, short hair, and gold glinting in her ears. Tattoos covered the stubble on her scalp and around her face and neck. When she grinned, her teeth were white and straight.
The man sat so close to her that Ymir assumed they were together. He was a giant, perhaps seven feet tall and very wide. He was as fat as he was muscled. A row of bone-hilted daggers were attached to his belt. His head was shaved, but he too had tattoos and golden earrings. Gold also winked in his nostrils.
Salt Love grinned. “You’re the barbarian who can do magic. You’re Ymir.” She spoke with a distinct accent, different from Jenny’s, and more like Mimi’s. That was island talk, or so Jenny called it.
The clansman turned to make sure Jenny and Lillee were okay. Smart girls—Jenny stood facing forward, while the elf girl stood behind her, making sure no one was sneaking up on them.
He turned back. “I’m Ymir. I don’t have a sweet tooth, but there are hundreds of people at the college who do. One xocalati shop won’t accommodate them. And our xoca is going to be special. I’ll bring you some, Damnation Sue.” He could warn her later about the horny itch the candy would give her.
Salt Love smiled. “Me and Sambal bring the kaif bean to the college. We have good contracts there. It’s strange, we think, that this Nan has access to the other bean, the xoca.”
Sambal nodded. “We think she’s dealing with the fucking merfolk.” He had a deep voice, an accented rumble. He spit onto the floor.
Damnation Sue hissed. “Sammy! I have to clean that up now. We all hate the fucking merfolk. Oh, what the hell.” She spat too.
Salt Love turned her head to join in the spitting. “Yes. Fuck the merfolk in their fishy little puckers.”
Ymir knew when to join in. He spat and cursed, “And I say fuck the merfolk as well, and I’ve never even talked to one.”
The three nodded at his reaction. People were like elk at times—they liked the herd, and they expected you to gallop along with their ideas.
Jenny and Lillee crept closer.
Ymir eyed Sambal. “We won’t have trouble, will we?”
The big man set a hand on the hilt of an especially big dirk in his belt. “No trouble. Though I’d like to try you sometime. I’ve heard the barbarians of the north cannot be beaten. I’d like to beat you.”
Ymir stared into the man’s eyes. “But not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” the giant rumbled.
Salt Love smacked her man’s leg. “Sammy, this could be the start of something. You be nice. Life isn’t always about fighting.”
“There’s fucking!” shrieked Damnation Sue.
“You’ll like our xocalati,” Ymir said. He turned and motioned for the princesses to join him. They came in, dripping rain on the floor.
Lillee pulled her hood back.
“She knows about fucking,” the crone cackled. “She’s Sullied. I like her already. Call me Damnation Sue.”
“Hello, Damnation Sue,” Lillee said quietly, her hand rubbing at the mark on her left temple.
Salt Love stood up, shoved her man to the side, and got them chairs. The single candle was enough to make it feel homey around the roughhewn wooden table.
Jenny hung up her cloak. When she turned around, Salt Love was pointing at her. “And that’s a Josen all right. You can tell by the inky hair and those blue, blue eyes. Why, aren’t you a pretty little miss. You aren’t Arribelle, I’m thinking. No. And the Firstborn died. You’re Otherborn. You’re Jennybelle.”
“I ain’t gonna answer that question, Salt Love,” Jenny said. “And I don’t think your real name is Salt Love. So we’ll just be friends without names, okay?”
Sambal laughed. “She got you, Salty.”
Salt Love laughed. From under her chair, she hefted a big jug of something up onto the table. She tore off the cork. “We’ll drink. We’ll chatter. And then we’ll get down to business. I’m trusting these people.”
“I’m trusting them too. A slutty elf, a swamp woman who will remain nameless, and this big-cocked clansman.” Damnation Sue winked at Ymir.
He smiled back. “Big cock, Sue.”
More laughter from the crone. She then made a face. “Oh, Salty, not your sugar kelp brew. I’ll be burping low tide all night.”
“We all will be,” the smuggler said. She lifted back the jug, took several swallows, and then passed it on to the crone.
Damnation Sue drank, grimaced, and it went around.
Jenny pretended to take a swallow but didn’t. That girl, such a liar.
As for Ymir, he sniffed. It did smell like low tide. He then tipped it back and swallowed. It was beer, a rich, heavy beer, and yet, when he smacked his lips, he tasted the brine. He gave it to Lillee.
She looked scared.
“It’s a beer,” Ymir said. “Made from grains and seaweed. Damnation Sue mentioned sugar kelp. It’s not sweet, though.”
“It’s not, but it will put hairs on your peach, girl,” Salt Love said.
Lillee drank.
Talk returned to xoca beans and the merfolk.
Salt Love clearly loved the beer and had drunk a bit more than was prudent for business. “If that old woman at The Paradise Tree is dealing with the merfolk, I’m glad we’re breaking the law to help you, Ymir. It could be good. War is coming between the Sorrow Coast and the merfolk families in the Weeping Sea. Those fishy fuckers want to charge passage over the waves. The Sorrow Coast Kingdom is tired of the merfolk sinking their boats. At some point, the two sides will get serious about the killing. When that happens, Nan won’t have her beans. You will.”
Sambal coughed. “Folks are worried about Gulnash and his band of rogue orcs on the Blood Steppes. That ain’t nothing compared to the fish families in the Weeping Sea. For one, Gulnash won’t worry about other nations until he conquers the Gruul city states. For another? Tree-damned fish people are right on our doorstep.”
Ymir had heard of this Gulnash before, and something told him their paths would cross at some point. First, he had his xocalati to make. “Will you continue to sail up here if there’s a war?”
Salt Love nodded. “Sammy and I make a lot with the college. Those rich pukers love their kaif.” She paused, her gaze locking onto his. “But let’s be clear. If you get caught, and if you point your finger at Damnation Sue or us, we’ll bring trouble down on you. Only because we’ll be in trouble. The Midnight Guild might have their assassins, but I’ll tell you, the Undergem Guild has them as well.”
A shiver tickled the back of Ymir’s neck. The hair rose on his arms despite the damp air. The Midnight Guild. Assassins. This felt important.
Not to Damnation Sue, though. She gaped her nearly toothless mouth to cackle. “Oh, sure, Damnation Sue is helping smugglers run candy to the college. Ha! No one would believe it! I’d just blame it all on my pussy
anyway.”
“Her cat, I’m assuming,” Jenny said. When the kelp beer came around, she took a big swallow this time. A real one. She then addressed Salt Love. “We won’t say shit. You know the Josens, they don’t squeal. Not that I’m a Josen, but I know about swamp rules, and island rules aren’t so different. Fuck the Undergem Guild if they can’t get their heads out of their asses so people can have their xocalati.”
“Correct,” Ymir said. “We can get paper to agree on our terms.”
Sambal sneered.
Salt Love held up a hand. “Of course he’d want paper, Sammy. His people know the power of writing. They had to, living up there, with those Frozen Sea merchants wanting to steal everything they’d ever own.” She nodded at the clansman. “We don’t need paper, Ymir. We’ll shake hands, we’ll look into each other’s eyes, and we’ll be true. We bring the xoca bean. You give us money. Any law gets wise, and no one knows a thing.’
“I won’t turn you over. We’ll say we dealt with the merfolk, same as Nan. Why not?” Ymir took another draught of the kelp beer. He belched, and, yes, his mouth tasted like bad fish and nasty ocean. The beer itself wasn’t bad. The aftertaste was pure mermaid piss. He didn’t think the merfolk left the water to relieve themselves, no matter what that drunk sailor had said.
Salt Love nodded. “Good. That’s good.”
Jenny took another swallow. It was a big jug. And the beer was potent. Her lips turned upward in a little smile as she tilted her head at Salt Love. “Sambal isn’t your only man, is he?”
Sambal sighed. “Always with you women. You always want to know. No, Salty has other men onboard. We share her. It is what it is.” He didn’t meet Ymir’s gaze.
“And Salty can take all that dicking,” Damnation Sue tittered.
“How many other men?” Ymir asked, genuinely curious.
“Five,” Salt Love said. “I’m very rich, and I’m very good.”
“She is,” Sambal agreed. He finally swiveled his head to gaze at Ymir. “You see, if I wasn’t with her, I’d wind up either waiting in line for a queen or working my ass off to be worthy of some bitch in power. This way? I get a good life. I’m happy. My friends are happy. Salty is happy with us all.”