Sword Empire (15 page)

They said farewell to Lars and his boat, and Jayna led them quickly away from the waterfront, passing through a maze of alleys in the oldest part of the town which clogged the spit of land between the two rivers. From memory, she found a small inn where they were able to hire a single room on the upper floor. The room contained three narrow beds and nothing else. The floorboards were bare. The only window looked out onto another log wall and the slate-covered rooftops across a narrow alleyway.

Zela grimaced as she looked down at the harsh grey blankets piled on each bed. Jayna saw the expression of distaste and shrugged. “It is only for one night. Tomorrow we will seek another passage down to the City of Swords. But the accommodation there will not be much better. The Gheddans generally scorn most creature comforts.”

They dumped their packs on the beds and then Jayna moved back onto the landing outside which overlooked the central eating and drinking hall of the floor below. It was already half full, noisy with harsh talk and laughter, but no one seemed to be showing any interest in their room or their presence. She indicated to Kananda that he should come out and keep watch. Casually, Kananda leaned against the wall beside the door. Jayna went back inside and closed the door behind her.

Zela positioned herself just inside the door and listened for the first sound of any warning while Jayna quickly dug into the bottom of her pack and pulled out a small hand held communicator. She switched the power on and quickly tapped her finger on the numbered keys. The job was done in seconds and the communicator was concealed again in the bottom of the pack.

“Code Two,” Jayna said softly. “It tells Antar the second station is launched. It should reach the main communicator in the skimmer from here for automatic relay back to Alpha. Let us just hope they are listening and receiving.”

“They will be,” Zela said confidently. “The only thing that can go wrong is for the signal to be intercepted and the skimmer discovered, but that would be very bad luck indeed.”

After they had rested and checked that there had been no fading of the blue pigmentation of their skins, they made their way down to the main hall to eat. By now the room was almost full but they seated themselves at one of the benches behind a rough wooden table. The choice of food was again limited, and when the serving girl came they ordered roast meat, bread and ale. The food was dumped before them, but again they were hungry and began to quickly clear their plates. Following the example of other diners, they hacked the meat apart and speared the pieces with the points of their knives to thrust them into their mouths, and tore the hard black bread into chunks to soak up the blood-rich gravy.

They had finished eating when a shadow fell over the table. Kananda looked up and saw the owner of the inn standing in front of them. He was a squat, barrel of a man in a soiled apron. His head was bald and one eye was drawn almost closed by the scar tissue on the side of his face. At sometime in his past, he had narrowly dodged being blinded by a sword or knife point, and Kananda guessed that he was an old soldier in retirement.

“The food is good.” He made it a statement and not an enquiry.

Kananda nodded.

“More ale?”

Kananda nodded again and the man looked round and called over one of his serving women to bring more ale jugs. He studied Kananda and his two female companions again. They had eaten, they had beds, there was more ale on the way, and if they wanted sex they had each other. There did not seem to be any other way of extracting more silvers from them, but he was an opportunist.

“What do you do in Corrion?” he asked.

“We pass through,” Kananda said carefully. The room was crowded now and he was aware that other ears were also listening.

“Where do you go?”

“To the City of Swords.” There seemed to be no point in hiding the fact, and they needed another passage. “Tomorrow we seek a boat.”

The innkeeper nodded slowly, wondering how he could turn this information to his advantage. The crowd shuffled as one of the men in black furs turned toward them and the familiar disease-pitted face of Lars grinned as though surprised to see them again.

“My friends—” The greeting seemed to include them all, but his eyes lingered on Jayna. “I thought you were staying in Corrion.”

Kananda hesitated, but the dice were thrown. “That was our plan, but we have changed our minds.” He shrugged his shoulders. “There is little for us here. We can earn more in the City.”

“You should have said. We have some cargo to unload, and more to take on board, but my boat leaves again tomorrow afternoon for the City of Swords.”

Kananda wondered if this had been planned and shot a suspicious glance at the innkeeper. The bald man was scowling. There was no profit for him here if the two sides to a bargain already knew each other. Kananda guessed that Lars had hunted for them, but only to pursue Jayna.

He was out of his depth, but he knew it would be a mistake to look for guidance from either of his two companions. No Gheddan male would consult with his women before making a decision. This was becoming tedious, but he asked cautiously, “How much for a passage to the City?”

“Three gold, one for each of you.”

“Two golds, for the three of us.”

Lars grinned again and his eyes deliberately went back to the two women. He rubbed his lean jaw thoughtfully. “Two gold,” he said at last. “But your girls are dancers. Let them entertain us, and I will take you all down to the City of Swords for two gold.”

For a second, Kananda was caught off guard. They needed a cover story, but his skill as a lyre-player was limited and they had decided that Zela and Jayna would only dance as a last resort. Certainly they had not expected to linger long enough to need to prove themselves in Corrion.

Then Zela intervened calmly with their prearranged excuse. “We cannot dance tonight. We have no music.”

Lars stared at her doubtfully, but Jayna was quick to enlarge the story.

“We were to meet our string-player here,” she said tactfully. “But we find he has already traveled ahead of us to the City. That is why we have changed our minds about staying here in Corrion.” Their planned story, if one became necessary, was to have been that Kananda had lost or broken his lyre, but this new, spur-of-the-moment improvisation seemed much better fitted to their present circumstances.

Lars turned a hard look to Kananda who simply shrugged and nodded.

For a moment, it seemed that the fast thinking by the two women had eased them out of an awkward situation, but the bald-headed innkeeper had been listening to every word, and now he saw that there was an opportunity to profit. If the women would dance, it would draw in more customers, and all would drink more ale.

“We have a string-player,” he cut in, with the air of a man pleased to be helpful.”

“Rona can play and sing.” He turned and shouted through the mass of mostly male drinkers. “Rona! Rona—get over here and bring your screech box with you.”

The girl who responded was the youngest of the four serving women. She dumped two fists of full ale jugs onto the table she was attending and, slapping away a pawing hand from her breast, she came toward them with raised eyebrows and the glimmer of a hopeful smile. Keeping this crowd supplied with their fast disappearing drink was busy work and she was pleased at the chance to take a break.

“These girls are dancers,” the innkeeper told her. “Play for them.”

Kananda saw that there was no escape. If they wanted to allay suspicion and maintain their cover then Zela and Jayna would have to dance. Fortunately they had rehearsed a few basic routines. They waited calmly and patiently for Kananda to complete the deal.

“Ten silvers,” Kananda told the innkeeper. “My girls will dance for ten silvers.”

“I will not sell that much extra ale. I will pay six.”

“Eight.”

The bald man scowled. “How can a poor man make a profit?” He appealed to the circle of grinning blue faces, but now most of the men there were urging him to pay and let the girls dance. “Eight silvers,” he agreed. “But they had better be good. And the rest of you had best drink up to pay for them.”

There was laughter and shouts of approval, and Rona was quick to take advantage. “One silver for me,” she demanded.

“Aye, one silver for you.” He tried to look cheated, but he was satisfied with the deal.

There was a delay while the dancing space was cleared and tables were pushed back, and Rona went off to fetch her instrument. She returned without her ale-stained apron, with the lacing of her shirt slightly loosened, and carrying what looked to Kananda like a crude version of a lute. The round body was stretched with taut wolf hide and the long neck had five strings. A stool was quickly found for her, its previous occupant being unceremoniously pushed off, but all those present were in good humour. They jostled for front rank positions with eager anticipation.

Jayna and Zela removed their outer furs. Beneath they wore short skirts, knee high boots and laced shirts. They too loosened the lacings at their breasts, more to ease any restriction on their breathing than for titillation, but the watchers cheered.

They conferred with Rona to decide what tunes they all knew, and then the dancing began. Kananda positioned himself to one side of the circle where he could watch the audience, and saw the grinning face of Lars in the forefront of the crowd. Lars had his eyes fixed on Jayna's cleavage, and Kananda decided that he disliked the man. Given the opportunity, he would be happy to wipe the triumphant smirk from that lean, pockmarked face.

For the next half hour, Zela and Jayna went swiftly through their practised routines. This was nothing like the graceful and seductive movements of the dancing girls of Karakhor. Here the rhythms were fast and savage, with the dancers whirling and twisting in fantastic militaristic and war-like patterns. Speed replaced grace, and pure animal vigour overwhelmed any sense of their softness and femininity. It was a wild, barbaric performance, and the music harsh and vibrant. Rona played the strings with rapid strokes of a short bow, rather than plucking them with her fingers, and from time to time switched to drumming on the wolfskin box with the speed-blurred fist of her left hand. By the time the first set had finished, all three of them were breathing heavily, with sweat running down their faces.

At a sign from Jayna, Kananda called a rest. The girls sat down and more ale-jugs were served. The crowd applauded and Lars tossed a few copper coins onto their table. A few more of the appreciative on-lookers added their coins to the pile. Jayna smiled their thanks and pushed the money to Kananda. Kananda separated a few coins from the pile and pushed them over to Rona. The rest he put into his pocket. His generosity met with general approval and there was a feeling of more goodwill and good humour as they took their break. However, all too soon the innkeeper and the more voluble voices in the crowd were demanding that the two women should dance again.

Jayna caught Kananda's eye and nodded, indicating that it was a fair request for the price that had been agreed. Kananda was reluctant, for by now many of the men in the crowd were getting seriously drunk, but again he saw no real choice. Rona took her place and the music struck up again, and Jayna and Zela spun into a repeat performance of what had gone before. The Gheddans, it seemed, cared little for any real variety in their entertainment, only that the dancing should get wilder and faster.

At the end of the second set, as Rona sawed the last wailing chord and Zela and Jayna came to an exhausted stop, there was uproar from the crowd. The on-lookers cheered and shouted, and more of the low value copper coins rained down onto the table where Kananda sat. Jayna had almost crashed into the tight-pressed crowd with her final flourish and she gave them a quick smile before turning to rejoin Kananda at their table. A tall man with the build of an ox, who had drunk more than most, made a grab at her shoulder to pull her back.

Jayna was half turned into the drunken embrace. One rough hand pulled at her breast, the other was wrapped around her waist. The man swayed as he leered at her and pushed his face close to snatch a kiss. Jayna leaned backward, and then back-handed him hard across the mouth.

The man staggered, releasing her and looking surprised as he brought his hand up to his lips. He stared at his own blood smeared on his fingers, and then rage flushed his features.

“You stinking slit of a Silurian bitch,” he roared angrily. “You will pay for that.” He lunged toward her again and clumsily pulled a large knife from his belt.

Jayna backed up two swift steps. Her right hand flashed down to the top of her boot, and she too withdrew a long-bladed knife. Beside her, Zela copied her movements in a double act as smoothly coordinated as their dancing had been.

The drunk stared at the two knives threatening him and hesitated. Then he blinked and looked down and there was a third blade at his throat. The tip of Kananda's sword grazed the underside of his chin.

“You have consumed too much ale, my friend,” Kananda said grimly. “It is time to go home.”

Jayna hissed a sharp warning and Kananda's gaze flickered to his left. He saw that the man he threatened had friends, and a group of three young hot-bloods were already clearing their swords from their scabbards. Kananda turned his blade swiftly to face the new challenge. The three hesitated. The first man charged at Kananda from his right with the knife. Kananda flipped his blade up and smashed his steel guarded fist full into the face of his first assailant. The man went down senseless. The other two drew blades and charged.

They were poor swordsman, and Kananda spun the first blade out of its owner's hand with his first parry. Seconds later, he had run the second man through the upper arm and he too had dropped his blade. Zela swept up one of the dropped swords and leaped forward. Kananda already had his sword-point at the throat of the last of the three, and he too backed up and allowed his blade to clatter to the floor.