‘He did dispose of your men and bring you here,’ said Trinica. A corner of her painted red mouth curved upward. ‘Despite suffering an amusing amount of damage on the way.’
‘He is pretty hard to get rid of,’ Ashua conceded.
‘Oh, I know that very well.’
Frey gave an exasperated snort. ‘Ladies, how about we take care of business before you start ganging up on me? I’ve already had one beating today.’
Ashua sat back in her chair and folded her arms. ‘How much do you know?’ she asked Trinica.
‘I know that you intend to hold up a train which is carrying a valuable Samarlan relic. I have a buyer in Vardia, who heard of the shipment and asked me to obtain that relic by any means necessary.’ She sipped her rum. ‘What I don amp;rsq
‘I’ve got my sources.’ Ashua nodded at Frey. ‘So what’s your deal with him?’
‘We go way back,’ Frey said wryly. He put his feet up on the table.
‘Let’s just say he’s more capable than he seems,’ said Trinica. ‘And I don’t like to risk my own crew when I don’t have to.’
‘So you’re doing her dirty work for her?’ Ashua inquired of Frey.
‘And getting paid handsomely for it,’ Frey replied with a grin.
Ashua thought for a moment, looking from one to the other. Deciding if she could trust them.
‘You know you can’t use aircraft, right? It’s outside the Free Trade Zone. You try flying in daylight and the Sammie Navy will catch you and blow you out of the sky.’
‘We understand you intend to use a’rashni.’
If Ashua was surprised that Trinica could speak Samarlan, she didn’t show it. ‘Yeah. Rattletraps. That was the plan.’ She tapped her toes restlessly. ‘I get fifty per cent of the buyer’s price. On delivery to you.’
Trinica laughed. ‘You get ten per cent, or my men will drag you into a back room and pull out your fingernails until you give up the information for free.’
‘Thirty per cent.’
Trinica’s face became cold. ‘I don’t think you heard me, Miss Vode.’
Ashua’s nerve broke. ‘Alright, ten,’ she said with forced airiness. ‘But I’ll be there every step of the way to make sure I get my share.’
Trinica looked at Frey, who was tipped back with his hands behind his head in a position of easy recline. He groaned. ‘Fine. I’ll babysit.’
‘You can arrange the vehicles?’ Trinica asked Ashua.
‘If you can front the funds.’
‘I think we can manage that. Talk to my purser, Ominda Rilk. He’s the Dakkadian over there.’
Ashua was suspicious. ‘You sure you want a Dak involved in this? That bunch’ll sell you to their masters faster than you can blink.’ e e="0"›
‘He’s a third generation Free Dakkadian. His grandfather bought himself out of slavery. He’s loyal to me, not the Samarlans.’
‘If you say so,’ Ashua replied with a shrug. She got to her feet. ‘The shipment moves in four days. I’ll be in touch.’ With that, she left. Frey watched her depart.
‘I like her,’ said Trinica.
‘You just like her because she booted me repeatedly in the face.’
‘It is a point in her favour, I’ll admit.’
Frey downed his rum and accepted a refill. He took a swallow and studied her. The woman he’d almost married. They’d been lovers a long time ago, and deadly enemies until recently. Now they were wary allies. Frey could never quite bring himself to trust her – it was in her nature to be treacherous – but he couldn’t help wanting to be around her, either. He knew the woman behind the ghostly mask; he was drawn to her in a way he’d never been to anyone else. And he’d come to believe that she, in her own way, still held some of her old feelings for him.
‘Your bosun doesn’t like me much,’ he observed.
‘He’s suspicious. He wonders why you’ve been paying so much attention to me lately.’
‘He’s jealous.’
‘A little,’ she said. ‘He thinks you’re a threat.’
‘Am I?’ he said slyly.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Please.’
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. ‘You know, one day it’d be nice to meet up without all your chaperones hanging around.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t happen.’
‘Don’t trust yourself around me?’
‘People would talk.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘You’re a man, and I’m a woman,’ she said. ‘Your reputation would increase. Mine would suffer. I won’t allow myself to be weakened because people think you bedded me.’ Her eyes narrowed in faint amusement. ‘Besides, I doubt your ego needs any more massaging.’
‘It wasn’t my p›‹’ego I was hoping you’d massage.’
She gave him a despairing stare. ‘I’m beginning to miss the days when we loathed each other.’
‘Oh, come on. You still loathe me a bit.’
‘It’s difficult not to.’
He grinned, and there was a rueful acknowledgment in the smile she gave in return. She knew it would never be simple between them. There was too much history there, too much tragedy and regret. But Frey was content just to be near her and, for her part, she seemed content with the same. He knew what she’d been through in the years since he’d run out on their wedding. Those years had turned her from a carefree young woman into a dreaded pirate queen. That couldn’t be wiped away in a few months.
But he’d wait. He had all the time in the world for her.
‘Any idea what this relic is, or why your buyer wants it so bad?’
‘I don’t know, and you don’t need to either. The relic will be enclosed in a case. You’re not to open it under any circumstances. It might well be delicate, and the slightest damage could halve its resale value. Are we understood?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Frey dismissively. ‘What do I care about antiques anyway?’
She poured him more rum, then took some for herself. He picked up his mug and contemplated it idly.
‘Who’d have thought that one day we’d end up working as partners?’ he wondered aloud.
‘It’s a strange world indeed,’ she replied noncommittally. But he thought, as she said it, that she was secretly glad.
‘I prescribe another round!’ Malvery declared, as they stumbled out of the bar onto the street. His thick white moustache was damp with grog and his round green glasses sat askew on his bulbous nose. Sweat glistened on his bald pate and trickled into the horseshoe of thinning hair that remained.
‘As your cap’n,’ Frey said, waving one finger grandly in the air, ‘I order you all to take your medicine!’ General cheers followed. He beamed foolishly, full to bursting with an expansive love for his fellow man, the consequence of two bottles of some unpronounceable local liquor that he’d shared with the crew after Trinica had left.
The streets of Shasiith were even busier at night, when the crushing heat of the day receded to bearable levels. Here in the heart of the city, the buildings that lined the streets were immense and extravagant in the lamplight. The thoroughfares were a snarl of carts and animals. People spilled across the road, heedless of the wheeled traffo theeled ic. Merchants haggled loudly by street stalls. The air smelt of strange spices, cooking meat and rank sweat.
Everyone was on the move. Most of them were Dakkadians, but there were Samarlans here too. Some of the Samarlans travelled in motorised carriages of extraordinary design, or were carried in veiled howdahs by slaves. Others were shuffling beggars, their black faces marked with white patterns, the sign of the untouchable caste. Even the Dakkadians kicked the untouchables aside like dogs, or ignored them completely.
Frey and his crew blundered into another drinking den, this one full of locals who eyed them disapprovingly as they entered. The Dakkadian bartender evidently wanted them gone, and pretended not to speak Vardic. This didn’t deter Malvery, who kept repeating himself ever louder and more slowly until the bartender gave in and poured from the bottles that the doctor pointed at. After that, they piled around a table in the corner and set to the business of getting properly out of their skulls.
They were in a giddy mood. Success was still a novelty, and every minor triumph was celebrated by a night on the town. Since their misadventures in Sakkan, Frey had been on a roll. Everything he did seemed to work out. Confidence was high. They were looking forward to spending the proceeds of the heist, instead of grumbling about the likelihood of getting shot.