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.”
CHAPTER 6
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 heavilywhen 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 girlhe’d had them alland 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 differenteven 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 youand shewill only help me, I’ll master all the Pirate Isles and plunder every prize my ships can reach.”