Pirate's Prophecy, page 11
Vreva committed the detail to memory. So Ronnel’s chasing a wealthy heiress. That fed into her theories about him well. A man who would marry someone he despised for money might also start a war for it.
“I’ve worked very hard to build a reputation here as well, Vaetus.” She teased his lips with hers. “Just like you, I’ve got a lot to lose. My very livelihood, in fact. We’ve all got our secrets to keep, demons in our closets. I don’t care about yours, and you’d find mine incredibly boring.”
“I doubt that.” She could probably tell some stories …
“Honestly, though, I thought you would enjoy the Officers’ Club.” It was time to get his mind back on track, and off of her drooping bodice. She had him where she wanted him now. There was no rush. “We do have the best entertainment in town, you know. Don’t you ever get to leave this dreary old ship?”
“In a few days, perhaps.” When that slug Robust gets here, and I can get that bloody thing off my ship! Damn that cuckolding rake Giavano. Probably out sailing in circles. The scrub never could navigate worth a damn. “But we can have our own entertainment here, can’t we?”
Vreva’s mind spun to decipher his thoughts. “That bloody thing” must be the weapon. Robust … She remembered a galleon by that name from her lists, but it was nothing but an old cargo transport, not a warship. What were they planning with a scow like that?
“Oh, that’s right!” She slipped out of his grasp, ignoring the loose laces of her dress. The neckline sagged near the point of indecency, but she ignored that, too. “We were going to play cards!” She spied a deck on the table and snatched them up. “What should we play?”
Bloody tease. “You pick the game, I’ll pick the stakes.”
“Very well.” Vreva took a seat beside the table and shuffled expertly. “Drakes and lions is my game. What are we playing for?”
He removed his cravat and dropped it on the table. “Ante up, my dear.”
I should have guessed … “Very well.” Slipping off a shoe, she flicked it up with her toe. She caught it in one hand and placed it on the table. “I may have slightly deeper pockets than you.”
“Then we’ll have to think of something else to wager.”
She didn’t need to read his thoughts to know what he meant, but did it anyway, and fought to keep her composure. The man would make a satyr blush. She examined him professionally, and decided that he was definitely handsome. She remembered what Mathias had said about taking pleasure in her work.
Vreva won several hands—how could she not, with her magic exposing his thoughts?—then lost one as her spell ran out. Finishing her brandy, she sent the admiral for a refill and recast the spell as soon as his back was turned.
“You must get lonely being in command.” She rose from her seat and strolled to the window again, listening for his thoughts.
“Sometimes, but it has its rewards.” Like a governorship, when we rebuild Augustana.
Rebuild? That didn’t sound good. Was this weapon really so devastating they could destroy an entire city? If so, why transfer it from a man-of-war to a transport ship? She remembered Mathias’s report about their worries concerning magic and the weapon, and realized what it must have been about. Teleport … they can’t teleport the weapon to Augustana for fear of triggering it here.
“All the politics and bureaucratic nonsense must be wearisome. How do you cope with it?”
He sidled up behind her and handed her the snifter. “I’m above most of it.” And I’ll be even farther above it soon. “And tonight’s not so lonely.”
“I get lonely, Vaetus. You might think it strange, but I do.” Turning, Vreva caressed his stubbly cheek. Now that she had his mind soothed, she could put any suggestion she wished there, and she knew he’d accept it. “You needn’t fear your reputation from me. You must know that I’d never risk your wrath.”
You better not … “And you needn’t fear me, my dear.”
“And as your power grows, perhaps we can continue to … use one another?” She teased his lips with her fingertips.
“I’m sure we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Once Giavano completes his suicide mission, and my fleet swoops in to aid the devastated city, she can keep me company in Augustana. Perfect!
That explained much. A suicide mission to deploy this weapon would allow Cheliax to deal a death blow to Andoran’s navy without the inconvenience of taking responsibility for killing thousands. If the Chelish fleet arrived to render aid after the devastation, the locals would be in no position to refuse them. Once ensconced, the Chelish would never leave. She wondered what lever he had over this Captain Giavano. What could force a man into suicide?
“I’m not used to … men like you, Vaetus.” That was true enough. She was used to men a lot worse than the admiral. He might be a lecherous, power-hungry devil worshiper, but he didn’t seem truly sadistic.
“You’ve never met anyone like me, Virika.” He slipped her dress off her shoulders with deft assurance, his grip hardening on her arms again.
She shivered, not entirely unpleasantly. “What about our card game?”
“I tire of games.”
“Patience is a virtue, they say.” She leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“I’ve waited long enough.” Ronnel grabbed her glass, quaffed the brandy, and tossed the snifter casually out the open window. He crushed her against him, his teeth playing the nerves along her neck, sending shocks down her spine.
“Oh, Vaetus!” Vreva dismissed her thought-reading spell and let Calistria, goddess of lust, have her way. Vreva would get nothing useful from him for the time being. At least nothing from his mind.
7
Perilous Prophecies
Torius mounted the quarterdeck steps, yawned in a great lungful of sea air, and smiled. At sea again … The motion of the ship, the wind in his hair, and the creak and groan of the rigging never ceased to ease his nerves. Beneath his feet, the deck barely heeled. The seas were running about twelve feet, but Stargazer bore it easily, steady on a beam reach, stabilized by her full hold and towering canvas. A glance aloft confirmed that nothing had changed since his last watch; all plain sail with a reef in the main and forecourse. Since becoming privateers, they’d run with the usual white sails at all times, forgoing the black sails they formerly used at night while pirating. Though it made checking the sails easier in the dark, it also made Torius feel a bit like a bug on a white tablecloth. One of the trade-offs for being legitimate, I guess.
“Nothing on the horizon, Captain.” Thillion met him with a casual salute and a smile. “Not a single light nor sign of a ship. Snick worked the bugs out of the compass, and we’re on course.”
“Good.” A glance around showed only one thing missing. “Where’s Celeste?”
“She went below.” The elf shrugged. “She asked if I needed her, and since we’re headed for open sea, I said that I didn’t. Kortos was off our port beam at sunset, and we’ve been on a rhumb line for Sothis since then.”
“That’s odd. She usually waits up for my watch.”
“She’s not in your cabin? I thought … well…”
Torius waved off Thillion’s unease. The whole ship knew that he and Celeste often reserved the early evening watch for private time. “No, she’s not there, and I didn’t see her in the galley.” He glanced around the middle deck, but didn’t spy her distinctive white hair. He grew uneasy. She’s been acting strange lately … “Would you mind staying on watch for a few more minutes, Thillion? I’d like to find her.”
“No problem, sir.”
“Thanks. Oh, and you can ease off to the west a few points. We’re not going to Sothis.”
“Yes, sir!” The elf grinned. He knew that meant that none of the Stargazers had decided to jump ship.
Torius went to their cabin first, wondering if he might have missed Celeste curled up on her pillows in the dark, but she wasn’t there. Nor was she in the galley or reading in the spare stateroom. The main hold was dark, so he lit a lantern and started exploring among the barrels and crates of herbs and spices, the scents of rosemary, sage, and other exotic herbs overpowering in the close confines. The cargo was well secured against the motion of the sea, and Snick’s babies were stowed away, but no Celeste. There was nothing forward on this deck but crew quarters, and he knew she wouldn’t disturb the sleeping sailors.
A great, dark hole opened before him: the open hatch to the lower hold. A cool breeze ruffled his hair from above. As was their usual practice when the weather was good, the main hatch had been replaced by a grating for ventilation. Moonlight filtered down through the gaps, the checkerboard of pearly light sweeping back and forth with the roll of the ship. Torius shone his lantern down into the lower hold. There weren’t many places to hide aboard a hull only a hundred feet long. He descended the ladder and peered into the gloom.
Over the ship’s creaks and groans, he caught a faint sound of scratching. The ship’s cat chasing a rat? Torius worked his way forward, shining his lantern into the narrow gaps between the stacked crates of cargo. When he reached the forepeak bulkhead and the hatch to the storage locker, he heard the scratching again over the rush of the sea past the hull. Definitely from inside the locker.
What the hell? Torius hung the lantern on a hook, quietly drew his dagger, and reached for the latch.
Scratch, scratch … Like a pen on parchment, or …
He pulled open the door. “Celeste?”
The soft lantern light spilling into the storage locker illuminated the naga coiled among the canvas and cordage. Turning toward him, she hissed and blinked at the light. The pile of translucent, scaly skin beneath her confirmed his suspicion.
Celeste was shedding.
“Go away, Toriusss.”
“What’s wrong? I’ve seen you shed before. It doesn’t bother me.” In fact, she usually shed her skin in their cabin. Instinct drove her to seek a safe haven until she could rid herself of the sloughing scales. It was inconvenient, but passed quickly. So why is she hiding away in the bowels of the ship?
“I … I don’t want you … to come any closer. Please. Just go.”
“No.” Something was wrong, and Torius was determined to find out what it was. He grabbed the lantern, stepped inside the cramped locker, and shut the hatch behind him. Looking closer, he saw patches of dry skin still clinging to her body. That was unusual; her skin usually shed in one complete piece. Only once had he seen her looking so splotchy: chained in the slaver dungeon when he first met and rescued her. Later she had told him that stress adversely affected her ability to shed well. From the looks of it, she was pretty stressed right now. “Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been edgy lately, but this is over the top. What’s bothering you?”
“I don’t … I can’t tell you.” She turned away, hiding her face in her coils. “You’ll think I’m crazy. By the stars, I think I’m crazy!”
“Crazy? What are you talking about, Celeste?” Torius gently ran a hand down her cool scales and felt her shudder. “What’s happened?”
“I don’t know! I saw … something that can’t be real!” She writhed her coils, scraping more of the old, dry skin off her tail with that distinctive scratching sound. “It can’t be…”
“What can’t be real? What did you see?” He knelt down and ran his fingers through her hair, trying to ease her nerves, though her behavior had him truly worried. He’d seen her upset before, even to the point of hissing and spitting venom, but this was different. Judging from her wide eyes and twitching tail, she was terrified. Her natural reaction to a threat was anger, not fear.
“I saw … Snick, but it wasn’t Snick. It was like the whole world stopped around me, then she … changed.” Her head rose from her coils and turned to him, blinking hard against the light, tears glistening in her eyes. “She spoke to me, in my head, and then she changed into … into a butterfly. Into Desna’s butterfly!”
“She…” Torius swallowed his initial skeptical response. If Celeste said Snick turned into a butterfly, then he believed her. He’d never known her to hallucinate or have delusions. “What did she say?”
She fixed him with a hard glare. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t think you’re crazy, but I don’t know what happened, either.” He ran his hand through her hair again, and she leaned into the caress. At least she still trusted him. “This could be some evil trick, or it could be exactly what you thought. It could have been a waking dream sent by Desna. She is the goddess of dreams, you know.”
“But why would Desna talk to me, Torius? What did I do?” Celeste shook her head. “I’ve never prayed to any god in my life!”
“True.” Though Celeste wasn’t an atheist, she tended to rely more on astrology than any divine influence for her answers. She believed the entire universe was a single immense consciousness, and that the motions of the planets among the stars sent messages to those willing to pay attention and listen. But that didn’t mean one of the gods might not take an interest in her. “But you did spend weeks at her shrine. Maybe you … caught her attention.”
“But I don’t want her attention!”
“Why not?” Torius smiled, relieved to think that there might be a simple, albeit astounding explanation for her vision. “I pray for Gozreh’s attention all the time. It’d be nice to know that she was actually listening! Besides, you couldn’t have picked a better deity than the goddess of stars.”
Celeste slapped her tail against the hull. “But I didn’t pick her!”
“No, but maybe she picked you.”
“But why?”
“Who knows? Because you already look to the stars for guidance, maybe? Now, maybe you can just ask Desna.”
“But that’s just it, Torius. She said that … that I had to find my own answers.”
“She did?” Torius considered for a moment. “Actually, that sound exactly like something a deity would say. What else?”
“She … touched me.” Celeste’s eyes lost their fearful look and assumed a far-off, wonder-filled sort of gaze. “And for a second, I had the answer to everything, every question I could ever think to ask. But now … I can’t remember.”
“Well, I’m glad of that, anyway!” Torius laughed.
“What?” Celeste looked horrified. “Why?”
“What would be the fun in living if you had all the answers? No more exploring, no more discovery, no more adventure!” He shrugged. “Kind of like knowing the end of a book you just started reading.”
“But … I think she does give me some answers.” At Torius’s befuddled look, she explained. “That slaver galley, Torius. I was wondering if we should fight, and suddenly I just knew we’d win. At the time, I didn’t understand how I knew, I just knew I was right.”
“You did?” He grinned at her and laughed out loud. “Well, that’ll come in handy!” A sudden memory came to him of Celeste shrouded in starry light. “What about that cloak of starlight during the battle? I didn’t recognize it as one of your usual spells.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t…” Celeste closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them wide. “Maybe I did! I…” She blinked, and starlight shimmered around her. She looked down at herself in amazement. “Torius! I did!”
“Holy—” Torius bit his tongue. Blaspheming in the presence of a divine manifestation didn’t seem wise. Reaching out a hand, he felt a cool pressure against his palm before his fingers penetrated the radiant aura to brush Celeste’s scales. “How did you do it?”
“I just … asked.” She closed her eyes again and the luminous barrier faded.
“Did you send it away?”
“Yes.”
“Can you summon it again?”
“I … don’t want to.” She writhed her coils again, her agitation returning.
“What’s wrong, Celeste? If these are gifts from Desna, you should use them.”
“But I’m not a cleric! I don’t worship Desna! I’ve got my own faith, my own beliefs. Why would she give me anything unless she wants something in return?” Celeste bit her lip and shook her head.
“But Desna’s a good—”
“It doesn’t matter! I didn’t ask for it.” She looked stubborn. “You don’t give someone a gift out of nowhere and then ask for devotion in return. It’s … rude!”
“This isn’t like gifts at a birthday party, Celeste. Just because we don’t know what you did to earn her thanks doesn’t mean you didn’t do something worthy.” He pondered, wondering how he could help her, and realized that matters of religion weren’t really his area of expertise. “Maybe you should talk to one of Desna’s clerics. Or at least someone who knows more about faith than a pirate.”
“Maybe.” Celeste took a deep breath and shuddered down her entire length. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
“You’ll probably have to wait until we get back to Almas. I don’t remember seeing any shrines to Desna in Ostenso.”
“What about Sothis? Aren’t we stopping there?”
“No.” He smiled broadly. “No need—the crew all decided to stay. We’ve already come off to the west, and I’m going to make our turn to the north early, since Trellis is in such an all-fired hurry for us to deal with this Chelish weapon.”
“Thank you for telling them all the truth.” Celeste slithered forward and brushed his cheek with her own. “And thank you for helping me sort this out.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Torius ran his hands through Celeste’s hair and held her close, her glossy new scales cool against his shirt. “I just listened.”
“Sometimes that’s enough.”
* * *
A surge of urgency twinged along Vreva’s nerves. Mathias … She cast her spell, and looked down to check her disguise: the rough-skinned hands of a sailor, feminine yet muscular arms, and the canvas trousers and wide-collared shirt of a Chelish sailor on shore leave. Perfect. Without a mirror, she’d have to assume her face resembled her chosen foil—one of the sailors she’d seen on her way to Ronnel’s cabin. She wasn’t worried; dusk was deepening, and in the dark one sailor looked pretty much like another.
