For King and Corruption, page 14
Lorraine shot her a sympathetic glance. “I should’ve warned you about the heat,” she said. “There should be a white shawl in one of your saddlebags. We each have one in case of emergency.”
Quinn handed Risk the reins and awkwardly maneuvered until she could reach the bag again, digging through it until she found the shawl. Quinn wrapped the thin white cloth around her chest and shoulders, and then tucked it up over her hair so that it protected as much of her pale skin as possible. Risk handed her the reins back as soon as she was done.
“Why does it feel hotter out here than in the palace courtyard?” Quinn asked as she clicked her heels and urged the steed beneath her to meet the stride of Lorraine’s horse.
Lorraine shrugged. “I suppose it has something to do with the oasis.”
Quinn scowled and then glanced back at Risk. “Are you alright?” she asked.
Risk nodded. Unlike Quinn, she’d dressed in an oversized white shirt made of the same material as the shawl.
“Look, there it is!” Axe called from ahead of them. With a swift kick, Axe sent her horse galloping forward—heading straight for the towers of clay that made up the Norcastan capital, the city of Leone.
Some of the buildings were dome-shaped and others squared with straw and wood planks for rooftops. Quinn steered her horse toward a stable at the edge of the city; the place where Axe was already waiting. As soon as Quinn swung down, with Risk not far behind—the little urchin darted forward, snagging her sister’s arm once more. She dragged her toward the streets filled with people.
“Axe,” Quinn barked. “Slow down.” Risk didn’t appear to be afraid—merely unsure as the younger girl towed her along.
“I shall follow them,” Vaughn said sharply, dismounting from his horse and dropping the reins into a waiting stable boy’s hands.
Lorraine sighed and quickly slid down from her own mount. Quinn huffed with annoyance toward Axe as Risk was tugged into the throng of people. Lorraine tapped her on the shoulder and gestured toward the Cisean mountain man.
“She’ll be fine with Vaughn watching over her.”
“It’s not Axe I’m worried about,” Quinn replied.
“She’s got to learn to handle being without you if she’s to thrive one day,” Lorraine said gently.
Pursing her lips, Quinn finally gave in with a shake of her head. “If Risk wants to leave, she will. She knows her way back to the palace.”
“She’s getting much better,” Lorraine noted as she retrieved a folded piece of parchment from one of her horse’s saddlebags before handing her reins over as everyone else had done before her. “Is it perhaps to do with your travels?”
Quinn followed Lorraine as she headed toward the market stalls. “I think it helped,” she said after some consideration. “We were on the road for most of it, but we did stop in a few cities along the way. While she’s not completely used to crowds—she’s much better than she was.”
“Where did you go?” Lorraine asked curiously. “We’ve never talked about your travels. I’m curious.”
“We traveled along the west,” Quinn admitted. “Jibreal. Bangratas. The Sari Sari Islands—they’re quite nice in the spring.”
“Goodness.” Lorraine’s eyes widened. “I’ve never even heard of anyone traveling to the Sari Sari Islands, much less returning in one piece. I’ve been told it’s akin to the Crystal Continent in more ways than one.” She clucked her tongue worriedly.
“I can’t speak for the Crystal Continent, but the islands are quite safe,” Quinn replied, her lips turning in amusement. “They spread the rumors to keep unwanted visitors away.”
“It’s worked,” Lorraine said. “I assumed them to be cannibals.”
Lifting her head, Quinn surveyed the crowd as they moved. Small children darted between the skirts of women and the long pants of men. Many of the market goers were cloaked in a similar fashion as Quinn with stretches of fabric covering their upper halves. Some women wore hoods fashioned from shawls and a few men wore wrapped turbans. “Not cannibals, just people that want to be left in peace. I believe Risk liked the islands more than Jibreal for that reason. They were less inhabited, and the folk were kinder. Simpler. It wasn’t like the sprawling cities of Vusut or even Zyburn.”
They came to a stop before a butcher’s stall.
Quinn wrinkled her nose at the short, squat man that greeted them, leering at Quinn’s figure beneath her wrap. “What can I do for you ladies?” the man asked excitedly. Quinn bared her teeth at him in warning, and the man blinked, his excitement dimming a bit as a wariness settled in his eyes.
“We’ll take two dozen orders of your finest slabs,” Lorraine said, pulling a coin purse from the satchel at her side. “We’ll want it delivered to the palace by the end of the day, if you please.”
The man’s eyes widened and snapped to Lorraine. “Yes, yes, of course,” he replied, bowing his head slightly—his cheeks reddening.
Quinn watched as Lorraine paid the man and then moved on. For several minutes, she flitted from one stall to the next, Quinn constantly at her side. “Tell me more about your travels,” Lorraine said as she inspected a cart with brightly colored fruits from all across the continent.
“There’s really nothing to tell,” she said, shrugging.
“Of course there is,” Lorraine argued, her eyes sliding past the red dappa fruit in hand to Quinn’s face. “All I know of these places are the tales I’ve heard from merchants and men. You’ve been to them. Seen what is true and what is story. I’d like to know about it.”
Quinn urged the other woman out of the way as a cart swung past them and several people rushed after it, nearly stampeding the both of them in their wake. “The Sari Sari are nomadic peoples that move from island to island on boats made from trees and held together with palm fronds. Contrary to the cannibal rumor, they don’t even eat meat.” Quinn chuckled at that. “In its own way, their lives are pleasant. Easy. Risk would have enjoyed staying there, were it written in our fate.”
“And you?” Lorraine asked. “Where did you prefer?”
Quinn looked out over the throng of people, seeing a land far away. “Jibreal was vast and opulent. We did well in our time there because of the coliseum,” Quinn said distractedly, dodging the question. Several shouts sounded around the corner, and taking Lorraine’s arm, she steered them toward it.
“I’ve heard of it,” Lorraine replied grimly. “Ghastly act that it is, the bloodshed does please many a lord. Were you a gladiator there?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I was one of the best too, by the end of it.”
Lorraine tsked, but didn’t rebuke her as she once might have. “I don’t doubt it. You quite enjoy violence as much as any lord. More so even, I think.”
Shooting the woman a dubious look, Quinn arched a brow. “That I do, I suppose. Then again, that’s why I am the right-hand and you the stewardess.”
Lorraine peered up at her, her thin lips curving upward. She opened her mouth to speak when a loud booming crash jolted the ground and ran through their bones.
“Oh no . . . ” Lorraine’s hand hovered over her lips as the familiar sound of rowdy laughter greeted their ears.
“Axe,” Quinn growled just before she broke into a sprint.
What in the dark realm had the girl gotten up to now?
A Contest of Deception
“Beware of deranged, axe-wielding red-heads.”
— Mariska “Risk” Darkova, beast tamer
* * *
“Are you sure we should not stay with the others?” Risk very much wanted to go back. She felt the crush of people on either side of her, and her skin had grown tight. Her back ached where wings threatened to protrude, and her nails sharpened. Thankfully, no spots or fur had cropped up, but Risk couldn’t be sure how long that would last.
“Nah,” Axe objected. “We’ll be fine. Besides, yer hussy of a sister probably don’t let ya out to have much fun.”
“I—”
“Oh look, a tavern.” Risk was cut off and dragged to the side as Axe spotted a swinging sign over a darkened entryway. “Good. I was dyin’ of thirst.”
“You were?” Risk frowned as she finally managed to finagle her arm from the smaller girl’s grip. For such a small thing, she had quite a bit of strength.
Axe didn’t bother to answer as she bounded into the building, leaving Risk standing just outside. Risk bit her lip, contemplating leaving the girl and going back to Quinn, but the gruff sounds coming from inside made her worry for the younger girl. With a stiff back, Risk took a step forward and found herself in the darkened interior of the tavern.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting; a stark contrast to the bright sunlight outside. Risk avoided touching as much as possible, skirting the edges of the crowd as she searched out Axe’s whereabouts.
“Two pints, please,” Axe called over the horde. Risk moved toward her, growling as she had to slip between several people. Her chest tightened when someone pushed by her. Risk rounded on them, hissing wildly, but whoever it was had already moved on. She swallowed hard before resuming her attempt to reach Axe.
Risk found her at the tavern’s bar, wielding two mugs of what appeared to be ale in each hand. “Here ya go,” Axe said, jamming one into Risk’s palm before slamming down her own.
Risk sighed and took the mug, lifting it slightly to take a drink and promptly coughing as fire seized her throat. “What the—” Risk coughed and hacked as she set the mug down, tears coming to her eyes as she struggled to breathe around the burning. “That’s . . . not . . . ale. . .” she managed to get out around her gasping breath.
Axe frowned at her as the girl licked her lips. “Of course it’s not,” she said as though it were obvious. “It’s spirits.”
“What . . . spirits? I . . . don’t . . . drink . . . ” The fire hadn’t gone out yet, but it was clear that Axe knew what Risk was trying to say as the girl rolled her eyes, slammed her now empty mug on the bar, and snatched up Risk’s discarded drink and downed that as well.
“That’ll be two copper each,” the barkeep said as Axe polished off the drink.
Risk shook her head as the burning in her throat and lungs was finally beginning to recede. “Oh.” Risk stiffened and turned slowly as Axe uttered that one word.
“What do you mean ‘oh’?” the barkeep snarled. “You drink it, you buy it.”
“Don’t suppose you got any coin on ya?” Axe asked Risk.
Risk shook her head. “I don’t carry coin,” she admitted. At least, she hadn’t since they’d been in Leone, or rather—since they’d arrived at the palace.
“Ya little thief,” the barkeep snapped. “I’ll have ya hanged!”
The tavern went quiet as the scene unfolded. Several men who’d been drinking heartily and paying them no mind were now focused on the two women—one of them just a girl, really—and the barkeep’s loud tone.
“How’s ‘bout a birthday discount?” Axe asked. Though she sounded hopeful, she said it with a rueful, unapologetic grin.
Risk shook her head at the girl in dismay. Axe was a reckless disaster waiting to happen. Correction, Risk amended a moment later as the barkeep lunged over the counter, snatching Axe up by the front of her shirt and dragging her halfway up until her toes barely touched the ground. She already was a reckless disaster.
“Now hold up, friend,” a firm voice intruded. “I ask that you release the little pirate.”
Despite her discomfort around the man still, the sound of Vaughn’s voice gave Risk some relief.
“This ‘little pirate’,” the barkeep snapped, “didn’t pay for her drinks. She’s a thief and nothing more. I’ll teach her a lesson and then give her to the authorities to hang.”
“It’s true I didn’t bring any coin,” Axe said nonchalantly. “But I’m sure a wager will do.”
“What was that, you little thief?” The barkeep shook Axe back and forth with his outrage, but the girl didn’t seem the least bit put off. In fact, his rough treatment appeared to bring a grin to the girl’s lips as she twisted them mischievously.
Risk turned to the side as Vaughn moved past her. Though, to be honest, she pressed her back against the bar so that she would no longer feel as vulnerable as she had when there had been people milling about behind her. With her position, she could watch the entire room without much of an issue. And as such, she had a clear view of Vaughn reaching out and clasping the barkeep’s hand and squeezing until the other man yelped in pain and released Axe.
Sighing as her mounting anxiety abated when Vaughn reached for his coin purse, Risk had never been more thankful for a man in her life. Surely, he would pay for the drinks and they could be quickly on their way and out of this dark little room.
As Lady Fortuna would have it, that was not what Axe had planned. Risk watched with open-mouthed shock as the girl shoved her way between Vaughn and the barkeep, stood with her hands on her hips, and promptly challenged the barkeep to a competition to see who would pay for the drinks.
“Come again?” the man said, staring down at Axe’s upturned face.
She was completely and utterly mad, Risk thought as Axe repeated herself. “You heard me,” she said. “Unless yer daft. A friendly contest between the two of us. You and me. Winner pays for the drinks or . . .” Axe’s grin widened, “ya give up for free.”
“There ain’t no way I’ll be doing that, girly.” The barkeep shook his head.
“Axe,” Risk hissed between her teeth. “Let Vaughn pay, and we will leave.”
“I think you should listen to your friend there,” the barkeep agreed.
Risk’s eyes widened as instead of making the wise choice, Axe reached down and withdrew one of her small axes from her side. “See this?” Axe asked, shoving the weapon under the barkeep’s nose. The man was two seconds from shoving it away, but his eyes caught on the gold inlaid in the handle, and he paused, looking it over. “It could be all yers if ya can beat me.”
The barkeep let out a laugh. “Oh, girly, you gonna wish you hadn’t challenged me. I’ll take your axe, and you’ll pay for your drinks.”
“I’ve got more than one,” Axe said confidently.
Unable to help herself, especially as more patrons in the tavern began moving closer, Risk backed away. Vaughn, however, was not as willing as Axe. He leaned forward and snatched Axe by her arm, yanking her against him as the girl squirmed and cursed him.
“That is not needed,” Vaughn rumbled in that low thick voice of his. “We will pay and go.”
“Now hold up there, son,” the barkeep said, lifting a hand. “Let the girl fulfill her challenge.”
Axe kicked at Vaughn’s shin until the man released her with a huff. He turned and spotted Risk, then nodded across the room. Risk followed his gaze. An empty staircase. Risk nodded back in acknowledgement and waded toward it. The barkeep laughed, and the sound of knives being withdrawn echoed in her ears as the voices of the tavern patrons began to pick up once more.
Coin exchanged hands as Risk found the staircase, climbed it, and turned back to take stock of what was about to happen.
It had apparently been decided Axe would have her throwing contest. People spilled out onto the street toward the entrance to make room, while several others crowded closer to watch with fascination. The barkeep stepped up, wielding a set of cheaply made daggers. He eyed Axe with an amusing condescension that befitted men. Risk had never seen Axe with her axes, but the girl didn’t seem worried as the barkeep was selected to go first.
He stepped up and, in a deft motion, sent his daggers flying toward a target on the wall. All but one managed to hit near or dead in the center. Cheers went up, coins were traded again. Risk turned her head, searching for red hair in the crowd. Axe’s face was hardly visible even from where Risk perched above the others, but she could see the bright crimson of Axe’s hair as the girl strode forward.
The barkeep took his daggers and stood back, a smug grin on his face. Risk moved her attention away from him to where Vaughn stood with a frown fixed on his lips and his arms crossed. She tilted her head to the side, wondering why he didn’t simply pay for Axe’s drinks, pick the girl up, and cart her out. He had the muscle to do it. Axe could hardly stop him.
Risk was so focused on Vaughn and her thoughts that when the sound of wood being split in two reached her ears, she didn’t immediately connect it with what had happened until her eyes turned back to the target and the gaping sound of shocked silence resounded throughout the room.
“I’ll take another drink now,” Axe said, sounding pleased with herself as the barkeep stumbled to the target and gaped at the way the lower half of the wood had split in two with the sharpened blade of both of Axe’s weapons imbedded in the very center.
“You . . .” The man reached up and yanked first one and then the other axe from his target before turning back to her. His face reddened as his grip on the axe handles tightened. “You cheated!”
Risk’s skin pulled taut as she stood on the stairwell, ready to either flee or fight. Her heart thudding her ears as the barkeep charged forward before Axe could say anything more. Vaughn stepped in before the man could even reach the girl, sending him sprawling with a heavy fist to the man’s stomach. He dropped the weapons, and Axe bent to gently retrieve them and slide them back into place at her hips.
The barkeep didn’t stay down for long and was soon back on his feet. Stealing a wooden tray from the bar top, he flung it forward, intending to hit Vaughn. And even Risk could tell where this was going. She watched with wide eyes as Axe climbed over the bar top and poured herself another drink. As the barkeep leapt upon Vaughn, slamming him into several patrons, who then bumped into others—Risk saw it all as if time were slowing to give her the chance to take it all in.
