Pirate's Prophecy, page 14
“Good evening, miss,” the customer said, tipping his broad-brimmed hat as he passed her on his way out.
“Good evening.”
“Keah! What are you doing here?” Tyfuss rounded the counter, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“I wanted to talk to you before tonight’s meeting.” Vreva waved her hand in Keah’s manner and took a tentative step closer. “I … wanted to apologize for what I said.”
“Apologize then.” The man’s tone was hard.
“I’m trying, if you’d just let me.” She heaved an exasperated sigh and pushed up her illusory glasses.
Following Keah home from the coven meeting, Vreva had harvested many confused thoughts. Flames and a fear of Tyfuss dominated, muddled with regret and distress. By the next day, however, Keah’s thoughts had sharpened to suspicion and anger. Instead of avoiding the coven, the witch planned to confront them, determined not to be denied her spoils from Bushatra’s scheme. From this had sprung Vreva’s plan. But first she needed to discover just how Tyfuss fit into Keah’s disturbing vision, and what had occurred with the coven after Keah left.
She bit her lip as she’d seen Keah do, and faced him. “I was scared the other night, all right? I admit it.”
“I can understand being scared, Keah, but I can’t even cast a fire spell like that, and you know it!”
Keah’s fear now made a bit more sense. Had the vision shown Tyfuss casting a fire spell at her? “How do you explain it, then?” She took another step closer, concentrating on her disguise. She had to put him at ease enough to get close.
“I can’t, but I have absolutely no reason to betray you or the coven.” He pulled a bottle of wine out from behind the counter. “We can ask Bushatra what happened when we get to Pothario’s. Come on. I don’t want to be late.”
Vreva frowned. The next step of her plan needed to be completed here in the shop. She had to stall him. “Do you think she might be deceiving us? Trying to pit us against one another with false visions?”
“It’s possible.” Tyfuss pulled down the blinds in the shop’s two front windows, then lowered the lamps to a bare flicker. “She’s a nasty woman. I wouldn’t put it past her if she saw some advantage in it. But why now, right before she sails off to earn her fortune?”
“Maybe so she doesn’t have to share with us.” Vreva slipped a needle from her wrist bracer and held it ready between two fingers. “Did she read your future after I left?”
“Read my future?” Tyfuss stopped barely a foot away, his brow wrinkling in confusion as he pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “She’d already read yours. You know she can only cast that spell once a—”
A sharp squeak sounded from beneath the witch’s jacket, and the head of a small white rat poked out from around his lapel. The creature squeaked again, and Tyfuss’s eyes widened.
“You’re not—”
Behind Tyfuss, a bottle clanked to the floor. Whirling toward the sound, the man dropped the keys and reached into his jacket, pulling something free. The dim lamplight glinted on the slim silver wand in his hand.
Vreva struck, jamming her poisoned needle deep into his neck.
Spinning back around, Tyfuss lashed out with the wine bottle.
The heavy bottle caught her on the cheekbone hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor. She reached over her shoulder for her crossbow even as her eyes focused on the silver wand in the witch’s hand.
Tyfuss aimed the wand at her and opened his mouth, but then collapsed to his knees as the poison diffused through his bloodstream. The wine bottle fell from his grasp and rolled away. A startled look widened his eyes, but he managed to lift the wand again until it pointed directly at Vreva’s heart. His lips moved to form a word.
Dear Calistria, help me! Vreva’s fingers finally grasped the handle of her Savored Sting, but before she could draw the weapon, the wand wavered, Tyfuss’s eyes rolled up, and the witch pitched forward to the floor. The small white rat disentangled itself from his coat and scurried away.
“Mathias!”
Just before the rat reached the safety of a low rack of bottles, it tumbled wildly aside. Mathias materialized, rolling from his diving tackle. The rat squeaked horribly, then fell silent as sharp teeth pierced its spine with a crunch.
Vreva heaved a breath and lurched up to her feet. “Thank you, love.”
Mathias meowed, his words unintelligible through a mouthful of rat. His flush of pleasure was clear enough, however.
“You saved me by knocking over that bottle.” Vreva pressed her hand to Tyfuss’s neck—no pulse—grabbed the ring of keys, and quickly locked the front door. It wouldn’t do to be disturbed right now. “Too bad he figured out that I wasn’t Keah before I got the information I wanted.”
*His familiar figured it out for him.* Mathias prodded the dead rat with his paw and flicked his tail in satisfaction. *I’m guessing you don’t smell right.*
“Of course. That might be a problem…” A solution came to mind. “Save the rat.”
*But I was going to—*
“Hush, love. You can snack later. I’ll need his familiar, and maybe something else from Tyfuss if I’m going to pass muster with the others.” Vreva cast a quick spell and checked the body for magic. The silver wand glowed, of course. Rummaging through the witch’s clothing, she confiscated an amulet and ring as well. Grasping Tyfuss under the arms, she dragged him behind the counter. There, she plucked the needle from his neck. The tiny wound didn’t bleed at all, and would hopefully go unnoticed by whoever discovered the body.
*Oh, all right.* Mathias picked up the rat and padded over, dropping it at her feet before sniffing the dead witch. *But keep it for later. Killing witches makes me hungry.*
“Everything makes you hungry.” Vreva perused the apothecary shelves and picked out a bottle of deadly nightshade.
*Everything but eating.*
“Very funny.” With a knife from the witch’s jacket, Vreva scraped the label off the bottle and popped the cork. She poured a measure into Tyfuss’s mouth, then dropped the bottle next to his outstretched hand. With any luck, whoever found him would jump to the conclusion that he took a sip from the wrong bottle. Vreva wrinkled her nose as she picked up the dead rat, its fur wet with cat spit. “Do you think this will be enough, or should I take something else, too? His coat’s too big for me. It’ll interfere with my movement.”
*Let me check.* Mathias sniffed the body again, more carefully this time. *Inside breast pocket. He’s got a smelly old handkerchief.*
“Perfect!” Vreva reached in and withdrew the obviously used cloth. Holding it gingerly with her fingertips, she shook it, and a few rat droppings fell out. “Ugh! This should do.” Stifling her distaste, she tied the rat up in the kerchief and secured both to her belt.
*Don’t forget the wine.*
“I won’t.” She retrieved the bottle Tyfuss had dropped and returned to the counter. From her belt, she withdrew a syringe with a thin needle and a corked vial of knockout toxin. With the deft motions of long practice, she filled the syringe, plunged the needle through the cork, and injected the toxin into the wine. With any luck, the hearty vintage would mask the flavor of the toxin. Vreva put away her tools, then bent to examine the corpse up close once more, committing to memory every detail of his clothes, hair, and facial features. “Ready?”
*Always, but you should put back the bottle I knocked over before we leave.*
“Right.” Thankful for her familiar’s sharp eyes, Vreva replaced the bottle. The first task of the evening was done, the tipping point past. What awaited them at Pothario’s house would be infinitely more dangerous, and she didn’t want to forget anything in her anxiety. “Anything else?”
*I think that ought to do it. Just don’t forget to walk like a man.*
“Walking isn’t the problem.” She cast the spell that would guise her in the form of the dead witch and headed for the door, keys in hand. “Talking like him, on the other hand…”
*Well, I can’t help you there.*
“I’ve got something in mind.” Vreva peeked out through the drawn shades as she worked the key in the latch. “Keep to the shadows, and I’ll make you invisible again right before we go in.”
*Skulking in the shadows is my specialty.* When Vreva opened the door, Mathias dashed out and vanished into the deepening night.
Vreva exited the shop and secured the door behind her as casually as if she did it every night. She dropped the keys into her pocket, then assumed a masculine gait and strode up the street toward Pothario’s house, her thoughts fixed upon her disguise, and the bottle of toxin-laced wine tucked firmly in the crook of her arm.
9
Playing with Fire
Snick popped her head through the doorway to the captain’s cabin. “Harbormaster’s carriage is here, Captain.” She sounded far too cheerful about it for Torius’s taste.
“I’m coming.” Torius looked once more in the mirror. As Abidi Ben Akhiri, he wore Thuvian garb: a close-fitting silk jacket of deep purple embroidered with gold, and a broad red sash that complemented the scabbard of his scimitar nicely. Turning to Celeste, he adjusted his fez and asked, “How do I look?”
“Too good for Lothera Cothos.” She sounded sullen, which was usual when Torius visited the harbormaster.
“I have to go, love.”
“I know.” Her tail twitched. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“Neither do I.” Kissing her quickly, he strode out of the cabin.
A deep breath calmed his nerves as Torius descended the gangplank and approached Lothera’s carriage. Her driver opened the door, and Torius stopped in shock as a long leg entwined in thin strips of black silk emerged. The silk strips girded Lothera’s muscular leg to mid-thigh, where a gold-hilted dagger was secured by an ornate strap. She stepped down, utterly resplendent in a red satin gown, modestly cowled in front but cut thigh-high on one side. He’d seen her in evening gowns many times, but never one like this. She looked startlingly sensuous, powerful, and completely Chelish, from her elaborately coifed hair to her high-heeled shoes.
“You like?” Lothera smiled and turned in a circle.
“Of course I … Oh … my.” The back of her gown left him gaping. It plunged down to drape gracefully somewhat below her waist, revealing a well-toned back. Gozreh’s guts! I hope Celeste isn’t watching.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She held out a hand gloved in red silk. “Shall we go? I have quite the surprise for you tonight.”
Torius automatically took her hand to help her into the carriage, the eyes of the crew tangible on his back. He wasn’t sure how to handle this new Lothera. She startled him with her smiles, astonished him with her attire, and terrified him with her pleasing manner. Suspicion about what had brought on this strange behavior blossomed into paranoia. Had she discovered his deception? Was he being set up?
Torius struggled to maintain his composure during the short ride to the Iron Crown, one of Ostenso’s most exclusive restaurants. The rumble of the carriage precluded quiet conversation, but she kept looking at him strangely—not leering or domineering, but something he couldn’t place. He handed Lothera down from the carriage and escorted her through gilded doors held by a crimson-uniformed usher.
Inside, the maître d’ bowed respectfully. “Your reservation?”
“I’m Harbormaster Cothos. I reserved a table for two.”
“Indeed you did, Mistress Cothos.” He waved a hand, and a waiter appeared to escort them. “Enjoy your evening.”
“I’m sure we will.” She flashed Torius a smile as she took his arm.
The restaurant sported a number of small rooms on two floors, an intimate atmosphere of dark wood with red and gold accents. Lothera matched the decor perfectly. As they climbed a curved stair and traversed a winding path between tables of diners, Torius noticed some of the Iron Crown’s other patrons. The number of naval officers’ uniforms among the landscape of silk and satin heightened Torius’s paranoia. Torius Vin was well known to the Corentyn armada, and naval officers made him nervous. If any of those captains had been reposted to Ostenso, one might penetrate his disguise. Indeed, too many eyes followed their progress, and whispers hissed in their wake like froth behind a ship.
Torius strained to listen, and found his fears allayed.
“That can’t be her.”
“Cothos in a gown like that? I don’t believe it.”
“I’d sooner expect devils to take up knitting!”
Well, at least everyone’s watching her, not me.
By the time they reached their table, secluded in a dimly lit corner with a view out the leaded glass windows, Torius noticed Lothera wobbling a little on her heels, her grip hard on his arm. Evidently she was as unaccustomed to her attire as he. When their escort pulled out her chair, the harbormaster sat with more relief than grace.
“This place looks as if it were made for you.” Torius took his seat. “Do you have a gown to match every restaurant in Ostenso?”
“Hardly.” She fingered the loose cowl of her dress. “I had my seamstress make this up especially for tonight. Unfortunately, the shoes don’t quite fit.” She gave him that incongruous smile again—not her usual leer or sneer, but genuinely pleasant. “I hope you like it?”
“I do, very much.” A special dress for a dinner out with me? The thought rekindled his paranoia.
“Good.” When the waiter offered the wine list, Lothera waved toward Torius. “Why don’t you pick the wine, Abidi? From what I understand, you’re quite the connoisseur.”
“I’m afraid all I know about wine is how to buy low and sell high, but I’d be happy to pick something out.” He wondered where she’d heard this as he perused the list. She knew he hauled wine as cargo, but that hardly made him a connoisseur. “How about … the Seven Hills Estates, 4692.”
“An excellent choice, sir.” The waiter took the list with a bow and left.
“You seem in a positively festive mood, Lothera.” Torius reached out to touch her hand, intending to draw her motives out. “Something good must have happened since my last visit.”
“Anticipation of something good.” She leered, then shifted her expression back to the simple smile as if catching herself in her old mannerisms. “Actually, aside from your arrival, that damned flagship will be off my pier soon.”
“Oh?” He knew from Vreva’s report that the weapon was aboard the flagship. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to her yet, but this might mean that the Chelish were ready to put their plan into motion. “Did they ever give you a reason why they insisted upon using your pier for that thing?”
“Oh, it’s all a pretense.” Lothera glanced at the dining naval officers and lowered her voice. “They said they needed space enough to raft some slug of a supply ship between Devil’s Trident and Fury’s Crown. According to Ronnel, they’re transferring some special cargo from the flagship to the supply ship, but I know what they’re really up to.”
“You do?”
“Of course! They’re trying to bring supplies into my port without paying proper duty.” She looked smug. “I told Ronnel as much, but of course he denied it.”
Torius tried not to smile. In the harbormaster’s mind, the world rightly revolved around Lothera Cothos. “The navy can’t put anything past you, my dear.” It made sense. Dockage in the naval yard was too limited to allow three ships to moor abreast. But why transfer the weapon from the flagship to a supply ship?
The wine steward arrived, and showed Torius the bottle. He nodded, and the fellow drew the cork and filled their glasses.
“But enough about work!” Lothera swirled her wine and examined its color in the lamplight. “How long will you be staying in Ostenso this time, Abidi?”
“Alas, time is money.” Torius sipped his wine, swirling the flavors around his tongue before swallowing. “As soon as we sell our spices and load more wine, I’ll be off to sea again. Perhaps to Katapesh this time. I have a buyer there who said he’d give me a good price on choice Chelish vintages.”
“So far?” Lothera frowned. “I don’t like it when you’re away so long.”
Another first; she’d never expressed concern about his absence before. “Well, perhaps we could make another run to Sothis. I wouldn’t want to dampen your spirits.”
“You would do that for me?” She sounded surprised.
“For you, my dear, yes.” He raised his glass, feeling emboldened. “I don’t know what exactly put you in such a mood, but I’m not about to risk losing it.”
“You did, Captain Akhiri.” Lothera smiled and grasped his hand. “By being someone I wasn’t expecting—someone honest and true—you … opened my eyes.”
“I did?” What the hell is she talking about? The last time he’d been in Ostenso, she’d been as brusque and demanding as ever. She’d barely said goodbye after sating her appetites.
“Yes.” Opening her menu, she scanned the page as if unaware of his scrutiny.
He knew better than to badger her for information. If he simply remained silent and attentive, she always opened up.
After a while, she finally met his gaze and sighed. “Suffice it to say that I thought I had a reason to be jealous, and I was proven wrong. I’ve never been so glad to be mistaken in my life. A … um, acquaintance informed me that I … wasn’t showing you how much I appreciated you. And I do.” Beneath the concealing tablecloth, she ran the toe of her shoe up his leg. “I appreciate you very much.”
“And I appreciate you, my dear.” Who the hell would tell Lothera … The question didn’t even form fully before he had the answer. Vreva! Torius didn’t know if he would be cursing her or thanking her for her intervention, but he’d know soon enough.
“Good. I was worried that you might feel … obligated … to be with me.”
“Lothera, I never—”
