Queen of the Depths (13 page)

She chanted, and vigor surged through her limbs. It wasn’t enough to silence all her pains, but that could wait. She rose and hurried to Anton.

He was still breathing. Indeed, except for the contusions where the butt of the iron staff had caught him, he was unmarked. Yet even so, his skin was icy and his pulse raced, making it plain he was sorely wounded. Chadrezzan’s wand was surely as lethal a weapon as any crossbow or trident, despite the fact that its shadowy discharge didn’t break the skin.

Gripping the bony symbol of Umberlee’s power, Tu’ala’keth declaimed the most potent charm of healing at her disposal. Anton thrashed, and his eyes flew open. He coughed hard several times as if he had a bone caught in his throat.

When the fit passed, he wiped his teary eyes and said, “Why is it that whenever you heal me, it hurts? The priests of Ilmater are gentle as doves.”

Ilmater, martyr god of the weak and helpless—she sneered at the mention of his name.

“Never mind,” Anton continued. “I’m grateful anyway.”

“What now?”

“It’s convenient that we made for the edge of town. If we can just drag the corpses on into the hills a little ways, we’ll come to a cliff where we can dump them into the sea.”

“As an offering to Umberlee?”

“If you like. But mainly to make life easier for me. People will assume I killed the Talassans, and I want them to. It will help convince the other factions I’d make a valuable recruit. But I don’t want Shandri Clayhill to try to punish me for slaughtering members of her crew. Without any dead bodies to prove Chadrezzan and Kassur didn’t just run off, she probably won’t make an issue of it.”

“What of the woman on whom we intruded? She witnessed what happened, or enough of it.”

“Good point. I’ll threaten her again, and give her some Thayan gold, too. I imagine the combination will keep her mouth shut.”

ondering how best to broach the matter at hand, Tu’ala’keth shadowed Captain Clayhill through the benighted house. Long skirt whispering against the floor, jaw clenched, and body stiff, the human strode rapidly, oblivious to the fact that someone was trailing along behind her.

The pirate’s path ended in the deserted, moonlit courtyard, where she took up a boarding pike with a blunted point and edge and squared off against a straw practice dummy. Slashing and stabbing furiously, she grunted and snarled. Her jewelry lashed and clattered about her body, and the muscles in her bare, tattooed arms and shoulders bunched and flexed.

Tu’ala’keth watched from the verandah for a time then asked, “What troubles you, Captain?”

Shandri Clayhill jerked around. “Waveservant. I didn’t know you were there. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just practicing.”

Tu’ala’keth descended the steps into the yard. “You cannot deceive me. I am your shadow. Your destiny, by Umberlee’s command.”

“Well….” The human wiped sweat from her eyes. More of it plastered her bronze-colored hair to her brow. “It galls me to lose Kassur and Chadrezzan.”

“We will have better fortune with Shark’s Bliss, and all who sail aboard her, devoted solely to Umberlee.”

“So you say, but their magic served us well in the fights with the Thayans. It will vex me if we lose Anton, too. It’s his right to seek a place on another ship, but you’re supposed to be his comrade. Can’t you convince him to stay?”

“Perhaps I can. Perhaps I will. But why are you, to whom the Queen of the Depths has given her favor, so concerned? Can you not see that you are the luck and strength of Shark’s Bliss?”

The human’s mouth twisted. “That has a brave sound to it, but I can’t take prizes without good men at my back.”

“You will find many reavers eager to sail with a captain who bested Red Wizards, and were you not distraught, you would know it. Let us speak, then, of that which oppresses you and clouds your visions: of the man you dream of killing when you batter this mannequin. It is plain you have just come from his chamber. I smell him on you.”

Shandri Clayhill glared, and for a moment, Tu’ala’keth wondered if the human would tell her to mind her own affairs. But then she sighed and said, “I thought that after Saerloon, things would be different.”

“Yet Vurgrom still treats you as his harlot.” “Maybe I should have expected it. The Lord of

Shadows knows, I’m not his only woman, but for the past couple years, I’ve been his favorite.” “As you sought to be.”

“I don’t deny it! I meant to use him, and it got me what I wanted. But I didn’t know what I was getting into. He’s fat, getting old, and drinks too much. He’s grown jaded bedding hundreds of women and even females of other races. He often needs… perversity to stir his desire.”

“Daughter, you need feel no shame. You stalked and claimed a victim to satisfy your wants. That is the dance of predator and prey, blessed in the sight of Umberlee, though in this guise a far lesser thing than the bloodshed and slaughter for which she intends you. But if you continue to humble yourself when it is no longer necessary, when your fate beckons you onward, then you truly will be at fault.”

“Can I refuse him when he’s still the chief of our faction? When he could demand that I give back Shark’s Bliss?”

“Yes! Because he lusts for the plunder you will bring him more than he aches for your flesh. Because he knows that if you forsake him, some rival faction will be overjoyed to recruit such a successful captain. You have power now, the power to command respect. You simply have to muster the courage to use it.”

Shandri Clayhill drew a deep breath, as if preparing for some great exertion. “You’re right.”

ŚŠ•ŚŠŚ

Vurgrom and Shandri whirled to the rhythm of the reel, while the yarting, longhorn, and songhorn wailed, the double-headed hand drum clattered, and the spectators clapped and stamped out the beat. He tried to press against her as he was accustomed to. She shoved him away, maintaining a bit of space between them.

At the end of the dance, he sought to cling to her for another. But she’d fulfilled the requirements of courtesy, done what was required to maintain the impression that she and her superior were on amiable terms, and she twisted away from him and snatched hold of Durth’s hand. She and the grinning, gray-skinned ore pranced away, stepping high and kicking on the final beat of every other measure.

Sweaty, breathing heavily—when had he grown so old and fat that a single dance winded him?— Vurgrom turned and headed for his customary seat overlooking the torch-lit courtyard. One of the serving wenches gave him a lascivious smile as if offering herself in Shandri’s place. But he’d had the girl—he’d had them all—and as he dimly recalled, she was nothing special. He sneered, and she hastily lowered her eyes.

He lumbered up onto the verandah and flopped down in his chair, which creaked under his weight. He picked up the wineskin he’d left beside his battle-axe and squeezed a spray of a tart Sembian white into his mouth.

“Captain Clayhill,” murmured a contralto voice, “is disrespectful.”

Vurgrom turned. It was Tu’ala’keth who’d crept up behind him. But she looked different—even stranger and less human, maybe, because of her spindly frame, dorsal fin, and lustrous black eyes.

Vurgrom realized he was staring and shifted his gaze a little. “It’s good for morale,” he said, “when the captain celebrates with the crew. Shandri’s shrewd to dance with the ore.”

The shalarin smiled. “You are generous, and she is ungrateful.”

“Well … maybe a bit.” It was poor leadership to discuss Shandri with someone of lesser rank, particularly an officer under her command. But Tu’ala’keth

had expressed his own opinion so succinctly it was difficult not to agree with her.

Besides, he now recognized that she didn’t seem different so much as more… pleasant to look on, maybe, or at least sympathetic. Her frame wasn’t gaunt, as he’d always imagined, but rather slim and graceful, like the body of an elf, and her dark, narrow features conveyed warmth and empathy despite the impediment of the goggles.

“I marvel at her arrogance,” the shalarin said. “By Umberlee’s grace, she has conducted one successful raid, and now she deems herself better than the benefactor who made it possible, who has taken more plunder than she can even imagine, whose dread name is spoken even in Seros beneath the waves.”

Tickled by the flattery, Vurgrom grinned. “It’s because of my victories that I can afford to indulge her foolishness.” He supposed it was truer than not. He’d taken his share of ships and sacked his share of hamlets, even if his adventures hadn’t been quite as glorious or profitable as he liked to claim.

“Your forbearance does you credit. Unless it reaches a point where others believe you weak. Then the lesser men who have always feared your strength will swarm on you.”

“I didn’t need that bit of advice, but thank you, anyway.” For a newcomer and a member of an exotic species, she betrayed an admirable comprehension of the realities of life on Dragon Isle. “I wonder, though, why you gave it to me. I thought you’d decided Shandri is the Bitch Queen’s pet and, therefore, entitled to your loyalty.”

“Umberlee inspires,” said Tu’ala’keth. “When it pleases her, she grants strength and luck to her petitioners. But she owes no loyalty to small, limited beings like ourselves. She has no compunction about abandoning us if ever we fall short of her requirements.”

Glistening membranes flicked across Tu’ala’keth’s eyes. The silvery flicker fascinated Vurgrom, and for a moment, he almost lost the thread of the conversation.

“Has Shandri fallen short?” he managed.

“It may be so. I came to your house that first day because the goddess whispered that herein, I might discover a spirit like a shark’s tooth. But if it belonged to Captain Clayhill, would I constantly need to coax and urge her onward?”

“Maybe,” Vurgrom said, “you found the right house, but the wrong soul.”

“That possibility,” said Tu’ala’keth, “has occurred to me.”

“Let’s speak plainly, then. Sail with me, not one of my underlings. I can use your counsel and magic, and I promise Umberlee blood aplenty.” It would be a joy to see Shandri’s face when she found out he’d lured her prized ship’s cleric away.

But to his chagrin, Tu’ala’keth seemed in no hurry to agree to his proposal. Instead, she studied him thoughtfully. “You may be the one,” she said. “I would like it to be so. But my preferences are irrelevant. What matters is that this time I see clearly and waste no more of my mistress’s grace.”

“You must have heard tales of my exploits.”

“How could I avoid it, abiding in this house?” He wasn’t sure if she was mocking him or not. If so, it didn’t anger him the way it usually did. “More importantly, I have seen you, and the strength in your limbs.” She ran a fingertip along his forearm.

Her webbed hand of midnight blue made his flesh look bone-white by contrast. Her skin was cool and silky smooth, almost slippery, as though still wet from the sea. The light, gliding contact afforded him a wholly unexpected thrill of sensual pleasure.

“I can well believe,” she continued, “this arm has slain a thousand men and could slaughter a thousand more.”

“Well, then,” he said, his voice thick in his throat.

She took her hand away. “But when folk speak of the greatest corsairs on the Sea of Fallen Stars, they name Teldar first and Vurgrom the Mighty second. You have sought to supplant him for years and never accomplished your purpose. I wonder then, can you truly be brave and merciless enough to serve as Umberlee’s blade?”

“Yes! If you—and she—will only help me, I’ll master all the Pirate Isles and plunder every prize my ships can reach.”

The shalarin smiled. “Well said. I will ponder the matter, and we will speak again.” She turned and walked back into the mansion. In a moment, the shadows swallowed her.

ŚŠŚ

Tu’ala’keth had quarters in Vurgrom’s mansion, but preferred to rest in the sea. Anton knew the route she took from the sprawling coquina house down to the water and thus could intercept her along the way when they wanted to confer unobserved.

Even though it was summer, the night air carried a chill. He hunkered down in the usual shadowy notch between two buildings; wrapped himself in his scarlet cape; and reflecting sourly on just how much of his life had been spent in uncomfortable circumstances, and settled himself to wait.

For a long while, he had nothing but scurrying, chittering rats and the rhythmic boom and hiss of the surf to keep him company. Finally, though, when the stars were fading and the eastern sky was lightening to gray, the shalarin came striding down the street, head held high, trident canted over her shoulder.

Anton rose and stepped out into the open. “I expected you sooner,” he said.

“Have you learned something?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I just wanted to find out if you’ve had any luck.”

“Not yet. That is why I am attempting a new ploy.”

Anton frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that. I know the pirates. You don’t. You need to check with me before you make a move.”

“You could not have dissuaded me, for the need to try something different is obvious. We won a place among the reavers and killed the foes who resented us for it. It was a good beginning, but since then we have accomplished nothing at all.

“Indeed,” she continued, “I do not know how you expected to. The affairs of Immurk’s Hold are too complicated. Ships constantly set sail for undisclosed destinations, and every captain keeps his particular secrets. To make it even worse, Dragon Isle is only one of several pirate strongholds. We must rely on hearsay to assess what’s happening on Alphar Isle and Mirg Isle, and most of the time, we can’t even ask directly for news of the Cult of the Dragon, lest our curiosity arouse suspicion. I do not understand how spies ever discover anything about anything.”

“You have to be patient,” Anton said. “We poke about and poke about, and it seems nothing’s happening. Then, if we’re lucky, we peek in the right window, and suddenly we have the answer. Trust me, that’s the way it works.”

“The wyrms ravage Seros,” she replied. “Umberlee’s altars stand neglected. I cannot afford patience beyond a certain point.”

He sighed. “You’d better tell me what you did.”