WARP world (25 page)

Prow split the deck and banged the cards against the table loud enough to draw Seg’s attention.

“You play?” he asked.

Seg shook his head. “Not these games, no. But thank you.”

“Easy as falling down,” Prow said, dealing cards as he spoke. “We’ll play a round for fun, while you wait.”

Viren took his cue to leave. Prow was a miser with words until the cards were on the table. He was that rare con who could spin a web with such grace the victims wouldn’t even struggle once they had been snared.

He found Mira lingering on the wooden staircase that led to the rooms above. She dropped her butt down onto the step, pulled her dress up to her thighs to reveal her bare legs, and peered out at him through the wooden spindles.

“What have we here? A wild animal in a cage?” Viren pulled the benga stick from his pocket and pointed it at her.

She snatched the stick from him, clamped her teeth down on it and growled.

“I need a favor or four from you, my saucy beast,” he said, drawing close.

“And I need something from you.” Mira opened her mouth and rolled the stick across her tongue.

“Business first, you know the rules,” he reached through the spindles for the stick but she held it away from his grasp.

“You gonna give me the Southie?” she nodded to where Seg sat.

“Of course,” he smiled and she passed the stick back into his hands. “Once Prow and I get our share out of him. Don’t pout, I’ll make sure there’s plenty of coin left for you.” He slid his hand between the spindles. His index and middle finger pressed against the underside of her chin and coaxed her head forward, his lips aimed for hers, which parted in anticipation, but detoured at the last moment to whisper in her ear, “I’ve got something special for you in my trousers.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Go on.” He angled sideways, displaying his pocket.

Mira licked her lips, pushed her upper body against the spindles and slipped her hand inside the pocket.

“Got it?”

“Yes,” she said. Her smile fell away.

“You know what to do with it.”

She withdrew the folded piece of paper, carefully palmed so none of the other patrons could see, and tucked it up under her skirt.

“Nen curse you, Viren Hult.”

He reached both hands through the spindles, pulled her head close before she could leave and kissed her deeply. Nose to nose, he held her there, “I am a shameless scoundrel, or so I’ve been told.”

“What else do you need?” She bit down on his upper lip.

“The Southie needs a kiss.”

“Not drinking up like a good boy?”

“Pretending to drink, and doing an admirable job of the charade.”

Mira pulled away slightly, “Suspicious.”

“Yes. When you get him upstairs—”

“Be extra friendly, get him talking, find out who he really is,” Mira rattled off.

“That’s why I adore you.”

She ran her finger over his nose, as prominent as Prow’s chin, “Me and half the doxies in the Block. Go on then,” she pushed him off, “I’ll be ’round shortly.”

Viren returned to find Prow sulking as the Damiar spread out cards before him in complicated patterns.

“It’s about knowing the combinations better than your opponent,” Seg said, as he gestured toward trios of cards. “For example, if you play the vestk, you turn your assembly into Black House, which is a very potent presentation. However,” he tapped the cards he had lain in front of Prow “from here, you have three possible counters to Black House, though the odds of drawing to a Seizure are,” he paused, “seven thousand to one on a fresh draw. However, the Seizure is virtually the ultimate hand and is only trumped by Refusal.”

Prow scratched the stubble on his head, “Yeah…”

“No luck finding your friend yet,” Viren said, and flopped down into his seat. “There was one promising lead but the captain apparently just ‘looked’ like a woman. Not to worry, word is out and she will be found.” He glanced down at the mess of cards on the table, “A new game?”

“His Lordship is teaching me one of his games from home,” Prow said, his tone dismal.

“Ah yes. Where exactly did you say ‘home’ was again?” Viren asked Seg.

Seg waved his hand without looking up from the cards, “Down south. Now, this is the most important combination to remember…”

Viren raised one eyebrow just enough for Prow to read.
Bad trouble
.

“I found a friend for you!” Mira’s voice arrived ahead of her. Her arm was around the waist of a young, dark haired woman who was all curves. The new woman was sucking on a plump kembleberry, the juice trickled down her chin. Without waiting for an invitation, she plunked herself onto Seg’s lap, pulled the berry from her mouth and pressed her equally juicy lips to his.

He struggled to lean away from the girl. “This is not what I came for,” he told Viren. Blinking, he raised a hand to his lips, as if to stroke sensation back into them, and wavered in his seat. “You idiots,” he slurred, “I don’t have any coin.”

“Mira!” Viren stood, towering over the woman. “Did you try to take advantage of our new friend?”

“I…” she looked to the woman with the berry, who was running her hands over Seg’s body in an approximation of seduction. The berry girl pulled her hand from the inside of Seg’s pants, turned and scowled–the Dammie was coinless. “I’m so sorry! She’s new, half Welf, shouldn’t have trusted her!”

Mira grabbed the berry girl by the arm and yanked her off Seg, “Get upstairs and wait in your room. Dirty mud kisser.” She shoved the girl away. “So sorry, your Lordship, so sorry.”

“How do you feel?” Viren waved a hand in front of Seg’s face, then turned to Prow. “We should leave him, poor fellow. I think he’s had enough of us for one evening. Mira, please look after Lord Eraranat.” He pulled out a coin and dropped it in her hand, “Whatever he needs. My treat.” Both men stood, as Prow collected the cards.

Seg slumped back in his chair and cackled incoherently. “Very, very bad scoundrels.” He lolled his head forward and directed his eyes, as best he could, at Prow. “Remember the game. Very few can master it, and those who do can make quite the comfortable living.”

“He’s cracked,” Prow whispered to Viren.

“Good luck with your search, your Lordship, we’ll just be—”

“You’ll just be staying right where you are, Viren Hult, until we’re square, please and thank you.” Five men had formed a semi-circle around Viren and Prow, inadvertently trapping Seg with them. All five were Kenda, and all looked ready to remove limbs with their bare hands.

As she had often done, Mira made herself inconspicuous, slipped between the men and back into the crowd.

“Hudish,” Viren addressed the obvious leader of the group, a man absent his left hand. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I understand,” Hudish growled, and raised the wooden stump, jabbing it at Viren then Prow, “that you and your worthless partner cheated my nephew out of a month’s wages. And who’s this?” he asked, peering over at Seg. “Dressing your crew up like Dammies now, Hult?”

“They were just leaving,” Seg slurred. “Do you know Ama?” He rose to his feet, tipped to one side, and grabbed the table just in time to keep from toppling over.

“He’s not with us,” Viren said, stepping in front of Seg. “Damiar Lord, visiting the city. Had a bit too much to drink, few holes in the hull too,” he tapped his forefinger to his temple, “if you know what I—”

“Shut up!” Hudish yelled. “All three of you, outside, now!”

“Now wait, we can…” Viren stopped and raised his hands as the men facing him drew blades. “Outside, outside it is.”

From the entrance to the dock, Ama could see the
Naida
was dark, and allowed her heartbeat to settle. Seg was still asleep. She shouldn’t have been surprised, the amount of furien she had used, combined with his own exhaustion, would likely keep him snoring until dawn. She had an alibi cooked up for her absence but preferred not to use it if possible.

Brin passed Perla’s basket of food down from the cartul. “You’re sure I can’t carry this? I think it weighs as much as you do.”

Ama took the basket and once again her knees almost buckled; he wasn’t joking.

“I know you won’t listen to me but be careful, Tadpole. This is no notice from the authorities you’re dealing with now.” He nodded to the darkened boat.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll—”Ama dropped the basket at her feet. The authorities. She had been so wrapped up in these new events that she had forgotten about Corrus’s threat. “There’s one last thing,” she climbed back up onto the seat. “The
Naida
has to be tied up back at the Banks in twenty-five days. If something happens, if I don’t make it…”

“Judicia Corrus?” Brin kept his voice low but it had a hard edge.

Ama nodded, “Make sure you warn Fa and my brothers.”

“Of course I will, but you get yourself back there, even if you have to leave this Seg behind. His invasion may or may not be real but Corrus’s threats are always genuine.”

“I know.” She embraced her cousin, then hopped down again. “Nen protect you,” she said, in the Kenda tongue.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, and smiled, “And you cousin.”

Ama lugged the basket up the stairs to the Naida, not as grateful for Perla’s gift in that moment as she knew she would be later. The food was divine but what she craved more than anything right now was sleep.

She rubbed her hand on the
Naida
’s rail, an act that always calmed her. Home, she was home.

Then she saw the open hatch.

She lowered the basket to the deck, padded to the helm, retrieved the lantern she kept there and lit it. A quick survey of the upper deck revealed nothing unusual.

“Seg?” she called as she climbed down into the belly of her boat. Nothing was out of place. She tiptoed to his quarters and poked her head inside. The bed was empty. Holding the lantern aloft, she stared at the jumble of the blanket, the contents of his pack half spilled on the deck. If it had been a robbery, there would be more missing, which could only mean…

“Son of a whore!” She sprinted above deck but by the dim lights of the city she could see Brin’s cartul was long gone.

As was Seg.

Just as they had with the previous skirmish, a small crowd followed Viren and the others outside, into the street. The unconscious body of one of the last combatants was still sprawled on the ground; Viren stepped around it.

“If this is a matter of coin—and I assure you Prow played fair against your nephew—in this instance, I would be glad to compensate for his losses,” Viren assured his assailant, eyes darting over the spectators to locate possible allies.

“That’s a start,” Hudish said.

“Well,” Viren said, palms up, “I’ll have to run and fetch that for you. Don’t carry that much on me, not in the Block. But, here,” he grasped Seg’s shoulders and pushed him forward, “you can hang onto him as collateral.”

“He tried to drug me for my coin,” Seg informed Hudish, as he made elaborate and nonsensical gestures with his hands. “I have the most sincere doubts about his concerns for my well-being once he’s out of your sight.”

Hudish looked Seg up and down, then delivered a swift, hard punch to his stomach with the wooden stump. “I have sincere doubts about you opening your yap anymore. I saw you all chummy with this one,” he jerked his thumb in Prow’s direction. “Teaching him new tricks and whatnot.”

Viren winced as Seg doubled over and stumbled backwards. “We don’t have your coin on us, Hudish. And your nephew should know better than to be gambling his wages, especially around here. But if you want a piece of flesh,” he pushed up his sleeves and stood up to his full height, which was impressive even among the Kenda, “you can try to take it out of me.”

The men, all but Hudish, shifted their feet and tightened their grip on their knives, one man took a few small steps back.

“Your ego is almost as big as your mouth, Viren.” Hudish let out a loud growl and charged forward.

Viren easily sidestepped the blade and drove his fist into the man’s solar plexus, knocking all the wind from him in one blow. The other men moved in but now Viren and Prow had their own blades drawn.