Jane Carver of Waar (33 page)

Lhan was getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it, but covered it up with anger. “The decrepit lecher! I mourn that he died so quickly.”

There was an uncomfortable silence after that. I broke it before anybody made a confession they might regret later. “So, uh, whadda we do now? Get the hell outta Dodge? Look for Wen-Jhai?”

Sai looked up. “I have seen Wen-Jhai. Not a quarter moon ago.”

Lhan brightened. “But this is excellent news. Know you where she is held?”

Sai frowned, thinking. “Dhan Hijan brought me to a gathering at the palace of one of his... intimates, for a night of unspeakable entertainments. Wen-Jhai was serving wine, dressed in a costume of shocking depravity.”

I wondered how much more depraved a costume could get around here, considering that the women on this planet went around ninety percent naked already.

Sai continued. “I attempted to speak with her, but even here, a captive in a barbarian land, she would not acknowledge my presence. Truly she must hate me more than death.”

Bummer. But where was she working? “Uh, Sai, the dude whose joint this shindig was at. What did he look like?”

Sai made a face. “A degenerate monster. Strong as a vurlak, and wearing a manly top-knot, yet painted like a woman.”

I shot a glance at Lhan. He nodded. “’Tis Wen-Jhai’s master. We saw him purchase her at the slave market. Good. Remember you where he resides?”

Sai waved a vague hand. “By a lake. With many other rich palaces. But where that may be from here, I know not. Hijan’s carriage traveled with curtains drawn, at least when I was his passenger.” He shivered again. “I saw little of the city.”

Lhan pressed him. “But would you know the house, were you to see it again?”

Sai sneered. “Oh yes. The man’s degeneracy carried even to the walls of his estate. I would know those foul facades, never fear.”

Lhan smiled. “Then we are halfway to success already. I have but to discover the location of this lake and we may begin to plot our escape.”

***

The first part was easy. Over the next few snack runs Lhan got directions to the lake and even a rough idea where Lord Top-Knot’s house was. Part two of the plan, where we escaped Doshaan and got back to Ora safe and sound, was a little trickier.

Captain Kai-La had been right about selling us all the way down here in the tropics. There was no trade between Doshaan and Ora. None. First off they hated each other. Doshaan had once been an Oran colony and had fought a rebellion to get free. Second, there was half a continent’s worth of jungles, pirates, deserts and hostile kingdoms between ’em. Even if they’d wanted to trade, it would have been tough.

In the end, after hanging out in shady airmen’s bars, Lhan found a captain who would take us north no questions asked as long as we paid his outrageous price. He was flying to some desert trading town halfway between Doshaan and Ora, where supposedly we’d be able to find a northern lunom runner who’d take us the rest of the way. Lhan didn’t like the deal—it cost almost a third of Sai’s jewelry—but it was the best he could find.

The ship was sailing during the third dark a couple days later. Northbound ships left at night because Doshaan always got a strong south wind after dark. We planned to snatch Wen-Jhai and get to the airfield just in time for take-off, and Lhan had promised the captain a big enough backend that he said he’d wait for us.

Our biggest stumbling block was, as usual, me. A big pink monster couldn’t just walk across the city to Lord Top-Knot’s palace. There were wanted notices for us painted on public buildings, with pretty good sketches of us too—though mine made me look fat—and patrols were searching the city for us. We’d killed an upstanding member of society. We were wanted men—and woman.

Lhan solved the problem. He bought a pony-cart, or, I guess, a birdy-cart—a little, one-krae crate with a bed the size of a mini-truck’s. He got armor and a sword for Sai, and native costumes for both of them. Doshaani carters kept the sun and rain off with wide straw hats that looked like upside down woks. Perfect for hiding your face. For me, they got a tarp and bundled me in the back. Lhan grinned at me. “Just try to think like a sack of bulbauts.”

I didn’t like the arrangement at all; riding around in the dark, holding perfectly still for hours under a heavy canvas without any air-holes, bumping and rocking through sounds and smells without being able to see, never knowing if something was coming for me. How could I protect myself? I was sweating before Lhan even got the tarp over my head.

He saw me panicking and gentled me like a horse, massaging my shoulders and whispering in my ear. “Fear not, Mistress. No harm will come near but I will call out. Keep your hand on your hilt if it calms you. Be our hidden protector.”

Man, was he good. What a waste. I got under the tarp with only a whimper and we headed on the long, bumpy, ride to the lake.

Lhan had been smart with the disguises. We looked just like a hundred other merchants dragging their goods across town. Fortunately, the main road to the shipfield went right past the lake, so there was a constant flow of traffic going to where we needed to go. Unfortunately, there were no roadside inns on that stretch. The rich bastards didn’t want anybody loitering in their backyard I guess, and there were more patrols along there than anywhere else in the city. But things went off without a hitch. We faked a breakdown, pulled off the road, hid the cart in the soggy jungle and changed into our armor in no time.

Then it got bad. That jungle nearly stopped us before we got started. It was thicker and swampier than we expected, and we wandered around lost for way too long. I was worried we’d miss our flight. Finally we found a little stream and followed it to the lake.

The palaces were on the other side, and we trudged for fucking forever through mud and bushes with thorns like piranha teeth until we got to civilization. The going was easier on the feet here, nice blue lawns and gravel paths, but more dangerous. Those big shots all had house guards, and we spent a lot of time hiding behind ornamental shrubbery before Sai finally whispered. “There it is. With the disgusting reliefs on the walls.”

They looked all right to me, but then I never claimed to have any taste. My idea of decorating is tacking album covers and Harley posters on the wall. It
was
a little explicit—naked couples banging each other in really uncomfortable positions, monsters and demons, all hung like Johnny Wadd, copping feels from winged chicks with curves out of a ’50s
Playboy
. And it got more triple-X once we got over the wall. It was like Larry Flynt’s garden in there—all the way down to the big penis-shaped shrubberies.

I did my usual second story job to get us into the palace proper, giving Sai and Lhan a hoist to a balcony and leaping up after them. The place was all carved wood, winged roofs, painted beam ends, latticed windows and studded doors, all spread out like some fancy island resort. Covered walkways twisted through ponds and gardens and connected different bits of the house together.

“Does this place remind you guys of a tiki-style steak joint?”

Lhan looked around at me. “A what, mistress?”

“Naw, never mind. I guess it wouldn’t.” I tapped a wooden pillar. “But why is everything made of wood? I thought rich guys liked to build in granite and marble.”

Lhan chuckled. “In Ora we build in granite and marble because we have few trees. At home this palace would be an obscene extravagance. Here ’tis a show of status. Doshaan is one of the few lands wet enough to support great forests. The trade in precious wood is the foundation of their wealth.”

“Oh, I gotcha. Like a Ford dealer driving a Crown Vic.”

“Er, if you say so, mistress.”

The palace was a ghost town. There were hardly any guards, and we didn’t see any slaves or happy home owners. I didn’t like it. I kept saying, “This is too easy. This is too fucking easy.”

Finally we ran into a pudgy little slave who squealed when he spotted us and tried to run. I tackled him and clamped a hand over his mouth. Lhan put his sword to his neck and Sai whispered in his ear. “Where is the slave Wen-Jhai held?”

I let him open his mouth. He was smart. He didn’t scream. “She... she is with the master, in the crimson pavilion.”

“Lead us there, villain.”

He did. We still didn’t meet any guards. I got nervouser and nervouser.

The crimson pavilion was a hexagonal two-story lake-side cottage that looked like a hat from the Elton John collection. It had lanterns and decorative beams sticking out all over the place. The second story over-hung the first, and had so many open floor-to-ceiling windows that it was basically a porch. There were flimsy red curtains billowing out of the windows, so we couldn’t see anything inside, but as we got closer we could hear a woman wailing like she was being taken apart with an ax.

Sai sprang forward. “Wen-Jhai!”

I hauled him back. “Wait. We all go together.”

He struggled, desperate, but I made Lhan hold him until I tied up our guide and hid him behind a statue of a woman getting groped by a six-armed snake. Reminded me of my Uncle Dean.

I wanted to stage manage this thing just right. This was our big chance to get Sai back on Wen-Jhai’s good side by showing him as the hero. This meant I couldn’t just heave him up over the balcony. What if he tripped? It could blow the whole thing.

So we went in the front door. There were a couple guards, but I flattened ’em before they could even draw. Lhan and I tied and gagged ’em.

It sure was crimson in there all right. Everything inside was painted shades of red and pink and maroon. The first floor had a dining area looking out over the lake, with a low table made from one huge red crystal, and a library of purple and red leather books and dirty pictures on the walls. In the center a spiral staircase twisted up to the second floor.

I put Sai in the lead—it had to look like he was in charge—and we tip-toed up.

We came up in a fancy bathroom, open on three sides to the garden. Steam rose from a painted porcelain tub that looked like a giant tea cup. A cloud of red paper lanterns surrounded it, hanging from the ceiling. Make-up tables and closets full of flimsy clothes were butted against the inside wall. A curtained doorway led to where the screams were coming from. They were a lot louder up here. They made my toes curl.

Sai charged for the curtain. I let him go. “Do your stuff, loverboy.”

He drew his sword with a fierce shout, threw open the curtains and charged in, blade first.

And stopped dead.

Lhan and I weren’t planning on going in unless Sai got into serious trouble. This was his show, so we hung back, but we could see what Sai saw by peeking through the curtain. It was stop-in-your-tracks stuff all right.

Wen-Jhai was bent over some kind of custom-made leather pommel-horse, naked and dripping with sweat, while her beefy owner, Lord Top-Knot, painted up like a Bangkok bar girl, slammed into her from behind like a piston. Shae-Vai, Wen-Jhai’s buxom gal-pal, lay face up on a low bench under the pommel-horse, her head between Wen-Jhai’s legs.

Sai’s jaw dropped. So did mine.

Wen-Jhai was as taut as a guitar string. Her hands white-knuckled the pommels and she screamed like a police siren. Finally, Lord Top-Knot’s thrusting pushed her over the edge. She started bucking and screeching like a horse in a burning barn. “Oh, yes! Harder! Don’t stop! By the Seven, don’t stop!”

Lhan and I couldn’t look at each other. Sai was dead white. The tip of his sword drooped to the ground with a clank.

Lord Top-Knot looked up. His eyes bulged. He jumped back out of Wen-Jhai with a yell. “Who dares? Who dares?!” He grabbed a sword and waved it at Sai—kind of redundant if you ask me.

Wen-Jhai raised her head. Her eyes went wide. I watched her face turn three colors in three seconds: white with shock, pink with shame, then gray with horror when it hit home how this was going to fuck up the rest of her life.

But the next second her face turned a forth color. She went red with anger as Sai, stiff as starch, turned away from Lord Top-Knot’s attack and walked back through the curtain.

I knew he wasn’t turning tail. He’d walked away because he was disgusted, but Wen-Jhai didn’t see it that way. As far as she was concerned this was twice now Sai had come to rescue her and chickened out when it came down to the big fight.

Lord Top-Knot started after Sai, shouting, but just then, I kid you not—and this is the kind of bullshit coincidence that makes me walk out of movies, so you gotta know I wouldn’t put it in if it wasn’t true—who comes swinging through the window on a rope ladder, but Kir-Dhanan fucking Kedac-Zir.

Sai was already out of the room, so Kedac didn’t see him. Instead, he hopped off the ladder and went after Lord Top-Knot.

Sai turned back when he heard the clash of swords and froze. Lhan and I were frozen too. My heart was pounding against my ribs like a battering ram. My brain was screaming. “It’s Kedac! It’s Kedac! It’s motherfucking Kedac!” But I was so fucking stunned I couldn’t move an inch.

Lord Top-Knot just wasn’t ready for so many surprises. Kedac beat his blade aside and ran him through with one lightning thrust. Top-Knot crumpled. Kedac called to Wen-Jhai. “Come, betrothed, my airship awaits.”

With a snooty sneer in the direction of the curtain, Wen-Jhai ran to Kedac and hugged him like he was her conquering hero and she was his virgin bride, like she hadn’t just cum like a run-away freight train ten seconds before.

“Yes, beloved. Save me from this den of cowards.”

Kedac scooped her up in one arm, stepped through the window, and started up the rope ladder. Shae-Vai was right behind them.

I finally snapped out of it enough to realize I was missing the perfect opportunity. Here was Kedac, without any muscle around him, thousands of ilns from home, and I was ten times the swordswoman I’d been the last time we were face to face. Now was the time. Now!

I charged through the curtain and ran to the windows, drawing as I went, but before I got four steps, the rope ladder started rising and Kedac disappeared out of sight.