Hard to port!"

Windy hauled the wheel hard over, and Stargazer fell off the wind. As they came abeam of their target, Snick's shrill command rose from below, and six ballistae bolts shot from Stargazer's side. One sailed over the galley's deck to splash beyond, but two struck her hull, and three her deck. The warheads ruptured, and flames blossomed. Slavers scrambled away from the fire and threw buckets of water to quench the blazes.

"Good shooting, Snick! Ready the starboard broadside!"

As Stargazer came around, the main boom swept over Torius's head, sheets and preventer lines burning through blocks to retard the force. Sails billowed full with a crack, heeling the ship over. Snick called out again as Stargazer rolled upright, and six more incendiary bolts soared toward the galley. Much closer now, all six struck true, and the galley's waist blazed in flames. Her mainsail caught and started to burn.

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar figure appeared on the galley's foredeck, arms raised.

"The wizard, Thillion!" Torius looked aloft to see the elf's bow bending, but it was already too late.

"Look out forward!"

Grogul's bellow drew Torius's eyes just as a torrent of ice slammed down, smashing Stargazers to the deck and shredding the forestaysail. A storm of sleet swept aft ...

The Pathfinder Tales Library

Novels

Prince of Wolves by Dave Gross
Winter Witch by Elaine Cunningham
Plague of Shadows by Howard Andrew Jones
The Worldwound Gambit by Robin D. Laws
Master of Devils by Dave Gross
Death's Heretic by James L. Sutter
Song of the Serpent by Hugh Mattews
City of the Fallen Sky by Tim Pratt
Nightglass by Liane Merciel
Blood of the City by Robin D. Laws
Queen of Thorns by Dave Gross
Called to Darkness by Richard Lee Byers
Liar's Blade by Tim Pratt
King of Chaos by Dave Gross
Stalking the Beast by Howard Andrew Jones
The Dagger of Trust by Chris Willrich
Skinwalkers by Wendy N. Wagner
The Redemption Engine by James L. Sutter
The Crusader Road by Michael A. Stackpole
Reign of Stars by Tim Pratt
Nightblade by Liane Merciel
Pirate's Promise by Chris A. Jackson
Firesoul by Gary Kloster
Forge of Ashes by Josh Vogt

Journals

The Compass Stone: The Collected Journals of Eando Kline edited by James L. Sutter
Hell's Pawns by Dave Gross
Dark Tapestry by Elaine Cunnningham
Prodigal Sons edited by James L. Sutter
Plague of Light by Robin D. Laws
Guilty Blood by F. Wesley Schneider
Husks by Dave Gross
The Treasure of Far Thallai by Robin D. Laws
Light of a Distant Star by Bill Ward

Short Stories

"The Lost Pathfinder" by Dave Gross
"Certainty" by Liane Merciel
"The Swamp Warden" by Amber E. Scott
"Noble Sacrifice" by Richard Ford
"Blood Crimes" by J. C. Hay
"The Secret of the Rose and Glove by Kevin Andrew Murphy
"Lord of Penance" by Richard Lee Byers
"Guns of Alkenstar" by Ed Greenwod
"The Ghosts of Broken Blades" by Monte Cook
"The Walkers from the Crypt" by Howard Andrew Jones
"A Lesson in Taxonomy" by Dave Gross
"The Illusionist" by Elaine Cunningham
"Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver by Erik Mona
"The Ironroot Deception" by Robin D. Laws
"Plow and Sword" by Robert E. Vardeman
"A Passage to Absalom" by Dave Gross
"The Seventh Execution" by Amber E. Scott
"The Box" by Bill Ward
"Blood and Money by Steven Savile
"Faithful Servants" by James L. Sutter
"Fingers of Death—No, Doom!" by Lucien Soulban
"The Perfumer's Apprentice" by Kevin Andrew Murphy
"Krunzle the Quick" by Hugh Matthews
"Mother Bears" by Wendy N. Wagner
"Hell or High Water" by Ari Marmell
"A Tomb of Winter's Plunder" by Tim Pratt
"Misery's Mirror" by Liane Merciel
"The Twelve-Hour Statue" by Michael Kortes
"In the Event of My Untimely Demise" by Robin D. Laws
"Shattered Steel" by F. Wesley Schneider
"Proper Villains" by Erik Scott de Bie
"Killing Time" by Dave Gross
"Thieves Vinegar" by Kevin Andrew Murphy
"In Red Rune Canyon" by Richard Lee Byers
"The Fate of Falling Stars" by Andrew Penn Romine
"Bastard, Sword" by Tim Pratt
"The Irregulars" by Neal F. Litherland

Pirate's Promise © 2014 Paizo Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews.

Paizo, Inc., LLC, the Paizo golem logo, Pathfinder, the Pathfinder logo, and Pathfinder Society are registered trademarks of Paizo Inc.; Pathfinder Accessories, Pathfinder Adventure Card Game, Pathfinder Adventure Path, Pathfinder Campaign Setting, Pathfinder Cards, Pathfinder Flip-Mat, Pathfinder Map Pack, Pathfinder Module, Pathfinder Pawns, Pathfinder Player Companion, Pathfinder Roleplaying Game, Pathfinder Tales, and Rise of the Runelords are trademarks of Paizo Inc.

Cover art by Michal Ivan.
Cover design by Emily Crowell.
Map by Robert Lazzaretti.

Paizo Inc.
7120 185th Ave NE, Ste 120
Redmond, WA 98052
paizo.com

ISBN 978-1-60125-664-5 (mass market paperback)
ISBN 978-1-60125-665-2 (ebook)

Publisher’s Cataloging-In-Publication Data
(Prepared by The Donohue Group, Inc.)

Jackson, Chris A.
Pirate's promise / Chris A. Jackson.

pages : map ; cm. — (Pathfinder tales)

Set in the world of the role-playing game, Pathfinder and Pathfinder Online.
Issued also as an ebook.
ISBN: 978-1-60125-664-5 (mass market paperback)

1. Pirates--Fiction. 2. Piracy--Fiction. 3. Spies--Fiction. 4. Imaginary places--Fiction. 5. Pathfinder (Game)--Fiction. 6. Fantasy fiction. 7. Adventure stories. I. Title. II. Series: Pathfinder tales library.

PS3610.A357 P76 2014
813/.6

First printing December 2014.

Printed in the United States of America.

This story is dedicated to the memory of my friend and fellow author, Eugie Foster. The world is a poorer place without her creativity, her smile, and her warm and generous spirit.

Chapter One

Auspicious Arrivals

Raucous laughter shook every cup and tankard in the bar. Windy Kate wiped ale from her chin and handed over a silver coin, having just lost a bet that she could drink a tankard without touching it with her hands or spilling any. Torius Vin leaned comfortably against the bar, close enough for a good view, but far enough to avoid getting wet.

"They're a noisy lot." The barkeep scowled as he refilled Torius's glass.

"Just a little well-deserved celebration." Torius sipped the fine spiced rum. The barkeep might not like Stargazer's boisterous crew, but he couldn't complain about the coin they were spending.

"We might be noisy, but we smell good!" Grogul drained his tankard and thumped it down on the bar, grinning at his captain. "Damn near forgot what it was like to be really clean. Thanks again, Captain."

"The least I could do." After a month at sea, springing for a stint at Trillia's Bathhouse for his entire crew had been worth every scarab. Besides, he could afford it.

Torius sipped, surveyed the well-mannered debauchery, and sighed in contentment. The scam they had just pulled off had been a near thing, but even after subtracting Vreva Jhafae's cut and the crew's shares, he had more gold than he could imagine spending. He could buy another ship and still have enough to live handsomely for years.

"A shame Celeste couldn't join us." Grogul accepted his refilled tankard and quaffed a third of it.

Torius doubted that Celeste regretted using all her daily transformation spells on the trip to Trillia's. Lunar nagas didn't sweat, and a quick swipe with a damp cloth was enough to cleanse her scales of dust and dirt, so their trip to the bathhouse had been a novel experience. He smiled as he recalled her look of delight as she immersed her human form into the hot, sudsy water, reveling in the luxury.

"She's busy planning our trip to the Observatory anyway."

More laughter rang from the betting circle. One of the caravan guards with whom the Stargazers were competing had spilled ale all over himself, and good-naturedly handed a silver back to Windy Kate. She wiped the ale from his chin with a sultry gleam in her eye amid the hoots of the onlookers.

"When you leavin'?" Grogul asked.

"Oh, not for a few days, at least. I need to discuss the alterations to Stargazer with Snick, and set up an account that she and Thillion can draw on for the work."

Grogul snorted. "Give that gnome free rein, and she'll spend you into the poorhouse."

Torius couldn't deny the truth of that. He'd already ordered Thillion to keep Snick's modifications under close supervision.

"And how long's this little vacation gonna take?" Grogul sipped his ale and narrowed his eyes at his captain, but Torius just grinned.

"A few weeks at least, more likely a month. Why? Are you bored already?"

"Just thinkin' about the crew sittin' in Katapesh for so long with nothin' to do. Boredom and money are a dangerous combination."

"Once Stargazer's back to her old self, Thillion could run a load of cargo up to Absalom or Sothis."

"Aye, that might keep 'em out of trouble." Grogul scratched his chin in thought. "Fenric should be able to handle the crew for a simple cargo run."

"Fenric?" Torius cocked an eyebrow. "And where will you be?"

"With you, of course. The desert's a dangerous place! Got a few others picked out to—"

A harsh shout and a crash brought the festivities to an abrupt halt.

"Uh-oh." Grogul slammed his tankard down, his eyes suddenly as sharp as the two kukris tucked through his sash.

Torius followed his bosun's gaze and saw Fenric with a bared cutlass in his hand. The Stargazers and caravan guards glared at one another across the tankard-littered table. Between them, Windy Kate slumped in a chair, spilled ale dampening her lap. Two more Stargazers sprawled in similar conditions nearby.

The hairs stood up on the back of Torius's neck. Something was wrong. Later in the evening, after much more drinking, passed-out crew members would not have been an untoward occurrence. But this early? Not a chance.

"No fighting!" the barkeep bellowed over the growls of the crowd.

"I'll handle this." Torius strode forward, Grogul at his flank. "What's going on here, Fenric?"

The bosun's mate pointed his cutlass at one of the caravan guards, a swarthy man with short-cropped hair and a long, angular jaw. "That motherless son of a scrub slipped somethin' in Kate's ale! She's out like yesterday's bilge water! Troy and Fenthis, too!"

"That's a load of camel dung!" the man protested. "They just can't hold their booze!"

One glance and Torius knew the man was lying. But why would they be drugging his sailors? He bristled with rage when he considered that they might be slavers out to supplement their stock by preying on the unwary. Whatever they were, they were outnumbered. Though Torius had no doubt that his score of pirates would prevail over a dozen caravan guards, a fight would be bad. Katapesh was their home port, and the Zephyr Guard enforced the laws of the Pactmasters with unwavering efficiency. A little diplomacy was called for.

"Stow your blade, Fenric." The man dutifully slid his cutlass into its sheath. Torius nodded toward the door as he glared at the caravan guards. "Now, you all move on to another bar. We don't like your tricks and we're not going to play your games."

"You move on! We were here first!" Spittle flew from the leader's bared teeth, and his hand edged closer to the hilt of the gleaming axe at his hip.

"Now friend, you really don't want to start something you can't finish." Torius nodded to his grim-faced crew. "We don't want trouble, but—"

Six more Stargazers suddenly crumpled to the floor, taking the pirates' numerical advantage with them. Torius's stomach clenched, and as he reached for his cutlass, he realized just how much trouble they were in.

The leader's eyes gleamed with malice as his face and form changed. His jaw elongated and opened wide, baring prominent canines dripping with saliva. Thick fur sprouted from his skin, and his legs bent backward into the limbs of a bipedal canine.

"What in the name of Gozreh?" Torius doubted if even the sea god could give him an answer. He recognized the features and coloration of the jackals he'd seen in the wildlands around Katapesh. Only those were much smaller and didn't clutch weapons in claw-tipped hands.

The leader's axe flashed as the werejackal lunged at Torius.

"Stargazers!" As Torius drew his cutlass to parry, a kukri flashed past his ear to cut a deep line in the werejackal's neck, ruining the creature's aim. Torius turned his parry into a slash that opened the other side of his assailant's neck, and the beast went down in a spray of blood.

The barkeep's high-pitched shouts rose over the din, but none paid heed. Accustomed to fighting in tight quarters and on uneven footing, the pirates reacted as a single unit. Fenric kicked the table into two more charging werejackals and fought off a third, while the remaining Stargazers formed up to protect their unconscious comrades.

Grogul snatched up the fallen werejackal's axe and stepped to Torius's side. "Come on!" His bellow shook the walls and, from the sudden doubt in the eyes of the leaderless werejackals, their morale as well.

In the brief lull, Torius considered reining in his pirates, but the werejackals had obviously been trying to kidnap some of his people, either to sell as slaves or to have for dinner. To let them go without a proper lesson simply wouldn't do. Torius grinned at the snarling creatures. "It's time we taught these curs how to heel! Have at 'em, Stargazers!"

The pirates leapt to the attack, battle cries rising from their throats. The werejackals met the assault with blades and gnashing teeth. Torius's new opponent was a quick creature wielding a jagged scimitar and a set of fangs capped with sharpened steel. Parrying the scimitar with his cutlass, Torius drew his fighting dagger and plunged the blade into the toothy maw. Teeth like sabers raked the back of his hand, but the tip of the blade pierced the back of the creature's throat. Hot blood gushed out over Torius's hand and the werejackal fell twitching to the floor. To his left, Grogul's axe reduced his opponent's skull to a spray of shattered bone and meat, while to his right, Fenric scored a deep gash in his adversary's arm.

In no time, half of the werejackals were on the floor, either bleeding or dead. The survivors disengaged and dashed for the exits. The Stargazers let them go, chasing them only with a resounding cheer of victory.

"For Stargazer!" Torius thrust his cutlass high in the air.

His crew cheered and waved their weapons in menacing arcs, more inebriated by their victory than the ale and rum they'd imbibed. Only two Stargazers had taken wounds, neither serious. Torius wiped his sword clean on the tattered shirt of the werejackal leader, snapped it into its scabbard, and bellowed for a round of drinks. The barkeep was nowhere to be found, however, so Torius took the liberty of grabbing a bottle of rum from behind the bar and emptying it into the cups and tankards of his cheering crew. The ones who had fallen unconscious roused easily enough, though they were upset at having missed the fun. Windy Kate, Troy, and Fenthis blinked in confusion, unsure of what had happened.

Torius raised his cup high and shouted for silence. "To the crew of Stargazer! Best damn buccaneers in the whole Inner Sea!"

Torius quaffed his rum amid the cheers of his crew and started pouring the next round, but their celebration was interrupted by a hard-toned shout from the tavern's entrance.

"Drop your weapons in the name of the Zephyr Guard!"

As one, the Stargazers turned toward this new threat. Torius heard a low growl from his bosun's throat, but he knew instantly that this was not a fight they could win. A half-dozen troops flanked the Zephyr Guard squad leader, who had not even drawn her sword. She had no need to. The monstrous aluum that ducked low to enter the tavern ensured her safety. Humanoid in shape, but twice the height of Grogul, the aluum eyed them passionlessly. Created and controlled by the Pactmasters, the virtually indestructible magical constructs were powered by the bound souls of executed slaves and prisoners, and knew no mercy.

"Stand down, Stargazers." Torius waved his crew back and strode forward, executing a respectful bow to the squad leader. She wore no badge of rank other than the gleaming blue gem dangling around her neck. She needed no other badge, for that trinket commanded the hulking aluum. "I'm glad you arrived. We were beset by these creatures and had just managed to fight them off." He waved a hand at the dead werejackals.

"He wrecked my bar!" The barkeep advanced from behind the Zephyrs. He pointed at the broken furniture, blood, and gore that littered the floor. "I'm ruined!"

"Oh, you're not ruined, man," Torius argued. "Nothing that a carpenter and a little soap and water won't fix! And we didn't do any of the wrecking! Three of my people were drugged, several more rendered unconscious, and we were attacked. You saw it happen!"

"I saw nothing of the kind!" A gleam of avarice outshone the despondency in the bartender's eyes for just a moment, but long enough to show Torius the game he would play. The werejackals were long gone, so the only source of gold left was Torius. "These ruffians were loud and drunk and looking for a fight!"

"We were not." Torius turned to the Zephyr Guard squad leader. "Please, ma'am, my name is Captain Torius Vin. I'm a guildsman in good standing, and these are my crew. Ruffians we are not! We were simply celebrating our arrival in port, and ended up defending ourselves from these creatures. This was not our fault, but since the guilty parties have fled, I'll be happy to pay for the damages."

"I'm pressing charges!" The barkeep folded his arms over his skinny chest in defiance. "It'll take a month to put this place to rights, and I'll lose my lease if I can't bring in customers. My livelihood is ruined!"

Torius refused to even look at the man for fear that he couldn't keep his hands from around his lying throat. "That's a complete fabrication. My crew can have this place spit and polish by tomorrow evening, and I'm willing to do so out of my own pocket. He's after more than his due."

"And what about the rumors? My business will be ruined when the whole city finds out that there were murders here!"

"Nobody's been murdered!" Torius rounded on the man, so furious at the accusations that his hand slipped unthinkingly to the hilt of his sword. "You're lying just to get more money out of me, and I won't stand here and—"

"Enough!" The Zephyr Guard squad leader's shout rivaled Grogul's. Everyone fell silent. "Master Helwek, Captain Vin has offered to pay for damages and repair your establishment out of his own pocket. That sounds fair to me. Will you not have an end to this without bringing the guard into it?"

"I'm pressing charges!" the bartender repeated, his face red. "Disorderly conduct, public drunkenness, destruction of property, and loss of livelihood due to wanton negligence."

"Public drunkenness? Gozreh's guts, man, it's a tavern!"

"Arrest this man! I insist!" He pointed a shaking finger at Torius.

Torius seethed, but managed to compose his face before turning to the squad leader. "My people want no trouble with the Zephyr Guard, ma'am. We'll go quietly, but you better add one more charge to that list."

The woman's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What charge might that be, Captain Vin?"

"Assault."

Now it was the bartender's turn to look confused. "But I wasn't—"

Torius doubled up his fist and cut the bartender's protest short by laying him flat out on the floor. Turning back to the Zephyr Guard squad leader, he dusted off his hands and smiled. "Lead on to the gaol! I hope you've got room for all of us, because Stargazers stick together! Grogul, get Windy Kate and the others."

Amid another round of cheers, the boisterous pirates hoisted their still-woozy mates onto their shoulders.

The squad leader only shook her head and said, "This way, Captain."

∗ ∗ ∗

Vreva paused for a moment at the second landing, just out of sight of the room below, and took a deep breath to still her pounding heart.

*You ready for this? You seem nervous,* Saffron said from the crook of her arm, keeping his meows low.

She looked into the bright yellow eyes of her friend and familiar and smiled. "You're such a worrier," she whispered back. "Of course I'm ready."

She took another breath, and her body responded to the long-practiced technique, calming her singing nerves. Raising her head and moving with majestic grace, she continued down the sweeping marble stair that led to the opulent entry hall of the Inn of the Eighth Sin.

A joyful shout brought all eyes to her, and impromptu applause rose from the crowd. Vreva beamed in the light of their adoration, sweeping an appreciative gaze across the crowd as if astounded that all this fuss was for her. At least fifty Okeno notables—some clients, some not—and a scattering of unknowns crowded the room. It was enough to turn any woman's head, if that woman wasn't more worried about her head ending up in a noose.

"Quopek, you sly dear." At the bottom of the stairs, Vreva playfully slapped the innkeeper's shoulder. "A surprise welcome-home party for me? How sweet of you!"

"Nothing but the best for Okeno's foremost courtesan!" The fat man quivered with excitement. Of course he was happy to see her; he earned ten percent of her profits, and her long absence had undoubtedly cut into his cash flow.

Vreva curtsied with consummate grace and waded into the throng, accepting kisses from those she knew, and proffering her hand to those she did not. Everyone jostled to catch her eye. Her reputation, it seemed, had grown during her sabbatical.

"Absence apparently does make hearts grow fonder," Vreva whispered so quietly that only Saffron could have heard her. None could understand their secret language, but talking to a cat could draw attention. They'd long practiced the art of conversing covertly, even in crowds, her whispers seeming nothing more than an owner's senseless endearments to a beloved pet.

A callused hand caressed the curve of her buttocks, and she barely suppressed the urge to slap it away.

*Absence evidently makes the heart grow randy, too.* Saffron's hiss at the slaver captain needed no interpreter.

"Oh, be civil, Saffron!" Vreva chided. She kissed her familiar on the head, then whispered, "You forget yourself! Now scout the room and report back!" Dropping the cat to the floor, she turned to her groper with a smile. "My apologies, Captain. We've been aboard ship for the better part of a week, and my poor kitty is in a snit."

"No offense taken, Mistress Jhafae," the slaver gushed, giddy with her attention. "We've got cats aboard Hell's Razor, you know. Keeps the rats from chewing up the merchandise!"

Vreva laughed at the supposed witticism, bestowed a smile and subtle caress sufficient to leave him dazzled and momentarily speechless, and continued circulating through the crowd.

"You look gorgeous, my dear. Absolutely gorgeous!"

"Where have you been? It seems like you've been gone for ages!"

"Mistress Jhafae, you simply must put me at the top of your calendar. Even my wife has complained about how edgy I've been, and only you ..."

Compliments, promises, pleas, and questions battered her like waves against a rocky shore, but Vreva responded with the glib dissemblance she had perfected long ago. The physical contact, however, set her teeth on edge. A hand on her arm or a kiss on the cheek roiled her stomach, while the more intimate caresses forced her to suppress violent reprisals. Weeks among pleasanter company had dulled her ability to block the revulsion she felt for these people.

I never thought I'd miss Torius and his boatload of pirates so much!

Vreva caught an empathic flush of urgency, then a flash of delight, and the flavor of seasoned meat flooded her mouth. Someone had dropped a tidbit, and Saffron had pounced. Quashing the sensation with a sip of wine, she broadcasted a thought of stern disapproval.

You have a job to do. Do it! He couldn't actually hear her thoughts, but would get the gist.

"I hope you are quite finished traipsing all around the Inner Sea, Mistress Jhafae."

Vreva recognized the voice and turned to the rotund slave merchant behind her.

"It was just a little holiday, Master Werreg." She accepted his kiss of greeting and did not flinch as his pudgy fingers caressed her hip. Werreg might be a fat lecher, but he was also an important member of the local merchants' council, and a font of information.

"I heard that you were spirited away by the Ruby Prince himself!" Looking pleased by his attempt at flattery, Werreg gave her an ingratiating smile. "I was worried that you'd succumbed to his charms and gone away for good!"

"How could I ever leave my dear friends here?" Vreva caressed his sweaty cheek, tracing the nerve along his jaw. "It was not the Ruby Prince whose company I kept. Just a ...special friend who asked a favor." That was true enough. Torius was a friend, or as close to one as she had. And Quetaal, the commander of the Sothis Guard, with whom she'd kept company there, had been like a breath of fresh air compared to these sniveling traders in human flesh.

"A toast to your favors." Werreg raised his glass, leering openly at her. "May they never run short of supply!"

Laughing, Vreva lifted her own glass in acknowledgment, but as her lips touched the rim, panic surged through her. Then a jolt of pain between her shoulders snapped her head back.

Saffron! The glass trembled in her grasp, and her vision glazed over as she concentrated on Saffron's mental cries. Rage, panic, fear ...trapped!

"Are you all right, Vreva?" Werreg's voice snapped her attention back to a circle of concerned guests.

"Yes, I ...I'm fine. Just a moment's fatigue." Sipping her wine, she attempted to quell the emotional onslaught from her familiar before it overwhelmed her. Considering her arsenal of spells, she silently cursed. Her magic was subtle, tailored to the boudoir, not the battlefield, and certainly not a room full of people. She had to disengage herself from this crowd and find Saffron. Vreva handed off her glass and made her excuses. "I've yet to recover from my voyage. The wine, I'm afraid, is going to my—"

"Is this yours?"

Vreva turned to the unknown man. He wore a snug headscarf in the Keleshite manner, and his beard was trimmed to a neat point. His clothes were rich, and the long whip at one hip and the scimitar at the other gave him a rakish appearance. She might have thought him handsome, except that he dangled Saffron by the scruff in one large, callused hand. The sight sent a surge of ice water through her veins.

"I caught it running loose." He held the cat out, sneering as if he'd just as soon wring the feline's neck.

"Saffron!" The familiar's relief echoed her own as she took the panicked cat in her arms. The ice water turned to fury, and Vreva glared at the man. "I don't know you, sir, but molesting my pet is not a means to garner my favor."

*He smells like blood!* Saffron spat and hissed, mewing dangerously. *His boots and that snake at his belt stink of it! I only sniffed, and he grabbed me!*

"My pardon, Mistress Jhafae." The man nodded and touched his forehead with a flourish. "I am Captain Heclech, master of Sovereign Chain out of Katheer. You must forgive my reaction, but where I'm from, animals belong in cages or on plates, not running free to soil a man's boots."

"My pardon, Captain Heclech, but I must not forgive you." Vreva was dismayed at the harsh words and acerbic tone that tumbled from her lips, attributing them to the waves of rage from Saffron that surged through her mind. "This is not your home, but mine, and in my home, my pet is afforded the same regard as any guest."

*‘Pet' my pink, puckered ass!* Saffron hissed.

"Shhh." She stroked his chin to ease his temper.

"Your home?" Heclech looked around the inn's opulent hall. "I was under the impression that this was Master Quopek's establishment. He keeps many men and women of your sort, does he not?"

"Master Quopek does not keep me, Captain. I come and go as I please." She tried to keep her tone civil, but could not disguise her dislike for the man.

"A fact that has left us all pining for the last many weeks, Captain," Werreg interjected from beside her.

"Yes." Heclech's eyes flicked to the merchant with a sneer of distaste. "This is why I came here, to see this woman who commands such obedience from men."

"I do not command anything, Captain Heclech." Vreva regained her composure and gave him a sultry smile. "They offer their respects willingly."

"Along with a good bit of gold." Werreg laughed, obviously trying to diffuse the situation. "I daresay we're all a bit richer for her recent absence, but I for one intend to pay my respects to her as soon as she'll have me."

"Where I'm from, women of her ilk do not have the respect of men." Heclech turned his eyes to Werreg and grinned a challenge. "And men who curry the favor of such women are little better than dogs."

Werreg paled, his blubbery chins quivering with rage, but he obviously knew better than to take up the man's challenge.

"And in this city, Captain, it's considered rude to insult a lady." The voice over Vreva's shoulder was low with a slight rasp, like well-oiled steel sliding across a fine whetstone.

She recognized the speaker even before Saffron said, *The wine man's behind you.*

Vreva felt a hand settle onto the small of her back and urge her aside. She didn't know whether to be relieved or agitated.

"And this particular lady has friends in very high places." Her champion stepped forward. His dark hair, pale complexion, and richly brocaded clothing marked him as Chelish, while the hand on the gleaming rapier at his hip marked him as a swordsman. Vreva knew that he was neither, but something else entirely.

"If you wish to do business in Okeno, Captain Heclech, and not be shunned like a plague-carrying rodent, you should apologize, and reconsider your opinion of Mistress Jhafae."

"And you are?" Heclech's hand drifted to the scimitar at his waist.

"Captain Fieson Templeton of Devil's Dawn." He made a short, courtly bow, and nodded to Vreva. "Chelish merchant and close personal friend of the lady."

"And by whose authority do you threaten me?"

"Threaten?" Fieson laughed, but his mirth didn't reach his eyes, and his gaze never left Heclech. "Oh, that was no threat, Captain, just a bit of advice. If you treat the lady with contempt, her friends will see to it that you do no business here. It's that simple." He shrugged. "Insult her again and I will personally feed you your own testicles. Now that," he added in a helpful tone, "was a threat."

"Gentlemen, please, you mustn't—"

"She's nothing but a high-priced prostitute!" Heclech stepped aggressively forward, and Vreva eased back a step, realizing the futility of attempting to placate the two men. "And you pay for her favors because you could never earn the attention of—"

The sounds of tearing silk and a wet plop on the marble floor interrupted his tirade.

Heclech's eyes flung wide, his voice caught in a strangled cry. Fieson stepped back as the larger man collapsed to his knees, hands clutching at the flood of crimson down his legs. The crowd gasped, and Vreva turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth in feigned shock. She knew Fieson did not threaten idly and, while he might not be skilled with a sword, he was entirely apt with the stiletto he wore strapped to his forearm beneath his sleeve. His cut had both gelded the man and severed one of the large arteries in his leg.

*Good!* Saffron purred as the man fell into the spreading crimson pool. *Now he smells like his own blood!*

"Captain Templeton! What is the meaning of—" Quopek stepped through the onlookers and gaped. "Abadar's key, man, what have you done?"

"The man insulted our guest of honor." Fieson casually cleaned and sheathed his blade. "After I warned him about his conduct, he insulted me with his hand on his sword. With Mistress Jhafae so near, I had no choice but to carry through with my warning. For her safety, of course." He bowed to Vreva, then the innkeeper. "My apologies to Mistress Jhafae, and to you, Master Quopek, for the mess. I'll be more than happy to pay for the cleanup."

"Well!" Quopek assessed the dead man, the stained marble floor, and the crowd. "I really should call the city guard about—"

"Please, Master Quopek." Vreva stepped forward, fanning herself with her hand as if she might faint. The blood affected her not one bit, but she had a façade to maintain, and needed to avoid calling official attention to the incident. "Captain Templeton was only defending my honor. I've never seen this man before, and I wonder at his motives for coming here. He picked the fight, sir, and he picked it with the wrong man."

A buzz of confirmatory assertions swept through the crowd, lauding Captain Templeton. In the end, Quopek merely called for a flock of slaves to clean up the mess, and shifted the reception to the common room. Vreva sighed with relief as she allowed Templeton to escort her to the new venue. Envious glances followed them as the captain leaned in close.

"I have a present for you, Vreva."

She beamed up at him. "How sweet of you, Captain. And in gratitude for your gallant defense of my honor, you shall have my first appointment. Is tomorrow afternoon good for you?"

"I am at your disposal, my lady," he said with a satisfied smile.

Chapter Two

Lessons in Freedom

They're coming out, Miss Celeste," Windy Kate called from atop the carriage.

"Thank you, Windy."

Celeste parted the drapes with a flick of magic and peered out into the blazing morning sun. Torius and the Stargazers strode down the Council Hall steps, escorted by a half-dozen Zephyr Guard, looking surprisingly cheerful for having spent a night in the gaol. Celeste narrowed her eyes. Her own mood fluctuated between anger and worry. Snick had brought Windy Kate to the cabin late last night with a report of the disastrous evening. Celeste had wanted to travel to the gaol immediately, until assured by Windy Kate that Stargazer's rowdy crew would spend at least one night in the lockup.

Celeste cast her transformation spell, and felt her tail split into legs, arms separating out from her torso. She would have preferred to use a simple illusion, but feared a Zephyr Guard might greet her with a handshake or, stars forbid, step on her tail. Adjusting the dress she had worn draped over her sinuous body, she made sure her cloak was fastened properly, and stepped from the stifling carriage into the desert sun. As a lunar naga, she reveled in furnace-like temperatures. In human form, it was oppressive, especially since she had to wear clothing.

As the sailors approached, Torius glanced at his looming bosun. "Grogul, see that everyone gets back to the ship. No detours."

"Aye, Captain." The half-orc passed the carriage with a respectful nod. "Miss Celeste."

"It's good to see you in one piece, Grogul, though ..." Her tone hardened as she glanced pointedly at Torius's bandaged hand. "...I see that not everyone managed to remain so."

Torius held his hands wide. "It's just a little bite." Turning to the officer beside him, he smiled and bowed. "Thank you for the hospitality, sir."

The man nodded. "We appreciate noncombative prisoners, Captain. Just make sure you're back here before sundown."

Torius smiled to forestall Celeste's raised eyebrows, and extended a hand to help her into the carriage. "The Immaculate Repository, driver."

Celeste climbed aboard without his aid and slammed the carriage door closed with her magic as soon as he sat down. "What did the guard mean, Torius? Why do you have to return by sundown? In fact, why are they releasing you at all? Windy Kate told me you punched the barkeep. Isn't the penalty for assaulting a guild member a year in the gaol?"

Torius waved his hand dismissively. "They let me off with a fine for the assault charge. I've got to pay before tonight, or I'll have to serve time."

Celeste's worry subsided to mere annoyance. "I noticed a squad of Zephyr Guard loitering around the dock near the ship. They must have orders to prevent us from leaving before you pay your fine. How much did that punch cost you?"

He winced and looked away. "Three thousand scarabs."

She gaped at the sum. "That's—" she cleared her throat, "—a lot. Was it worth it?"

"The man was being a jackass! He was trying to extort me for damages that weren't our fault! There was a point of honor to be made."

"Your honor seems to get you into more trouble than it's worth."

His face flushed. "I couldn't back down from a conniving twit like him in front of my crew! It would make me look weak, and at the first sign of weakness, crew discipline goes to hell. I've got to depend on them to follow my orders, even when those orders put their lives on the line."

"So you punched the barkeep in the face to ...um ...save face?" The corner of her mouth twitched, ruining her stern demeanor.

"Now that you put it like that, Celeste, yes. That's exactly what I did." He grinned at her. "Besides, I can afford it."

His nonchalance peeved her. "But if you couldn't afford it, you'd be in a gaol cell for a year. Would it have been worth that?"

"If I couldn't afford the fine, the fine would have been less." He gave her a wry look. "I have little doubt that the taverners' guild looked into my finances and had a chat with the councilman about the fine. I'd only have spent a year in jail if I'd had no money."

"Really?" She furrowed her brow.

"This is Katapesh, Celeste. Business and profit take precedence over justice." Torius leaned back, automatically adjusting the well-used cutlass tucked into the side of his sash, only to wince as if pained. Arching his back, he reached and pulled a long, red scabbard from where it was tucked crosswise into the back of his sash.

"You have a new sword." That she hadn't noticed it before surprised her. Am I that upset?

Torius smiled. "From last night. The jackals had some decent weapons, and ...well, pirates will be pirates. I wasn't about to leave anything for that barkeep." He lay the curved scabbard across his knees and drew the serrated blade partway out to show her. "It's a beauty, isn't it?"

Even in the light from the draped carriage window, she could see the wavy lines of folded steel. It certainly was beautiful, but it also seemed more than beautiful. Celeste cast a simple spell, and a golden aura suffused the sword. "It's enchanted."

"It is?" He looked at the blade more closely. "I knew it was a good weapon, fine Drumish steel, but I didn't know it was magical. What's it do?"

Celeste gazed into the golden glow. A vision appeared in her mind of sharp steel and a never-ending flow of blood. "The magic seems to maintain a preternatural edge, and deal grievous wounds that bleed and weaken the foe." She looked up to him. "A valuable weapon. It might even be worth what your temper just cost you."

The carriage took a sharp turn and slowed as it began ascending the steep incline of the Night Ramp. Torius set the sword aside and opened the drape to stare out the carriage window, obviously intending to let the conversation lapse.

Celeste followed his gaze out beyond the eternal flame that burned atop the Temple of Nethys, beyond the towers and ramparts of the city walls, past the Docks district, to the blue rolling waves of the Obari Ocean. The sea was his domain. On the sea was a freedom that no Zephyr Guard, king, or Pactmaster could take away from him. Torius loved the sea, and he had chosen to share that love with her.

Her mood eased, and her volatile temper faded. She knew Torius longed to be back at sea. Yet he had offered to accompany her for a month to visit the Observatory. That simple generosity, his loyalty to her, his crew, and his ship, was what she had fallen in love with. Yes, he could be brash, and sometimes thoughtless, but beneath the pirate exterior beat a heart of gold. Which reminds me ...

"We may have a problem with transportation to the Observatory."

"What problem?"

"I've been doing some research. Most caravans are simple camel trains. They shy away from using wagons because wagon wheels become stuck in the soft sand."

Torius raised his eyebrows.

"I'm nervous about traveling outside of a covered wagon. Neither my transformation nor my illusion spells will last all day, and we could meet up with other travelers." It was imperative that she keep her true nature a secret. Lunar nagas were rare enough to be a valuable catch for slavers. "And I can't ride a camel in my natural form."

"I hadn't thought of that." He mused for a moment. "Why don't you ask Snick to help you?"

"Snick?"

"Sure. She might not be able to change your shape, but I'll bet my best tricorne hat that she can figure out how to make a wagon wheel that doesn't sink into the sand."

"I'll ask her." The quirky gnome had a penchant for solving technical problems, and kept Stargazer in fine trim. Deep in thought, Celeste was caught off guard by the sudden itch of her failing spell. "Oh, damn!"

Celeste's form suddenly shifted, her legs fusing and lengthening into a long scaly tail, and her arms receding into the sleeves of her dress. Her face remained the same, except for the venomous fangs that now filled her mouth. She writhed her coils, trying to avoid jostling Torius too badly, and flicked the drape closed with her magic to avoid curious eyes.

"Sorry about that."

"Don't be." Torius caressed her smooth scales. "I don't mind."

"You minded the other night when we were—"

"That was different." They smiled at one another. Their relationship was challenging at times, and when Celeste ran out of transformation spells at the wrong moment, it was frustrating for them both.

The carriage jolted to a stop. "Immaculate Repository, sir," Windy Kate yelled down.

"Time to pay the piper, my dear. I'll be back in—" Torius stopped with his hand on the door latch, and looked at her. "Why don't you come with me?"

"Inside?" Celeste had never been in the Repository. Her share of the plunder was kept in a common account with the rest of the crew's. Whenever she wanted something, she'd merely ask Torius, and he would fetch it for her.

"Why?"

"Because I want to put you on my accounts."

"What?" Celeste snapped around, taken aback. "Why?"

"Because I love you, Celeste, and it seems a little ridiculous to not share something as trivial as money when we already share everything else." He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers and grinned at her shocked expression. "Besides, it'll save time the next time you have to bail me out of the gaol."

Celeste stared at him, flustered beyond speech. She didn't know what to say, either to his claim that money was trivial, or his willingness to share his fortune with her. It was true that they shared most things, but ...his money? She knew how dear money was to Torius. He'd grown up with none, even before his pesh-addict mother sold him into slavery.

"You have enough spells left, don't you?"

"Yes, if it doesn't take too long, but ..." Celeste felt like smiling and biting him for being a fool at the same time.

"But what?" He grinned that boyish grin of his, opened the door, and held out his hand to her. "Come on."

Without another word, she cast the spell that transformed her into a human woman, placed her hand in his, and accompanied him into the Immaculate Repository.

∗ ∗ ∗

Saffron sniffed at the door and turned to Vreva. *The wine man, and many others.* He trotted over and hopped up on the arm of the couch where he settled quickly, obviously pleased with himself.

"Thank you, Saffron." She ignored his feline superiority and went to the door. "Watch the others while I greet Fieson. They're probably just slaves, but you never know." Vreva donned her best smile, worked the latch, and pulled open the heavy doors. "Captain Templeton! How very nice to see you." She curtsied, giving the expected flash of cleavage and thigh. "Please come in."

"Good to see you in such a glow, Mistress Jhafae." Templeton swaggered in, sweeping the lavish apartment with his eyes. "You've changed the décor since last I visited. I like it!"

"A matter of nostalgia, Captain." She waved a hand at the opulent swaths of crimson and gold as several of the inn's slaves hauled three chests into the room. "Others might call the red ostentatious, but it's a reminder of our homeland that I find ...soothing." She glanced at the chests. "Your gift, I assume?"

"Just some wine." He dismissed the slaves with a wave. "Another reminder of our homeland to sooth your nerves."

"How thoughtful." The door closed and all their pretenses fell away.

"Why in the names of ten thousand devils did you kill that lout?" she hissed in a harsh whisper. "The man could have been important! I don't have any Qadiran clients, and he could have supplied invaluable information about the eastern slave trade."

"You'd have gotten no intimate pillow talk from him, Vreva. Not the way he talked about you."

"I don't have to sleep with someone to get information, and you know it! All I needed was to get him alone. And the last thing you need is to draw attention to your business."

"My business is above reproach." He waved off her admonition. "And I'm not the one who deserted her post for nearly two months. You left me hanging like a corpse on a gibbet."

"My absence was unavoidable. I had to help a friend." He opened his mouth to comment, but she knew what he was going to say and cut him off. "A real friend, Fieson! I had to make things right." When Torius discovered that Benrahi Ekhan had blackmailed her into betraying him, he'd come storming into this very room with his sword in his hand. Luckily, he wanted information more than her blood. Celeste, on the other hand, would have cheerfully sunk her fangs into Vreva's throat, until Torius stopped her. Helping the pirate exact revenge was more than atonement; it was perversely gratifying, and ended the threat forever.

"People in our line of work can't afford real friends, Vreva. They can be used against us." He scowled and continued. "No report for two months has put Marshal Trellis in a state of apoplexy. The consuls want things to move forward, and you've set them back!"

"The consuls can wait! My whole operation was at risk! I had to take care of it or disappear entirely." Five years they'd been working together for Andoran, battling the slave trade at the vile business's very heart, and he still didn't understand her position here. His killing of Heclech proved that. Attention from the authorities was the last thing they needed, and corpses drew attention like flies. "Besides, the trip was very profitable."

"Oh?" That got his attention. Money always got his attention. "Well, the consuls do appreciate someone who can fund their own operation, and you've been very generous with your earnings. How profitable?"

"Enough to fill Devil's Dawn with the poorest wretches of the Fleshfairs ten times over." It was more than that, of course, but she wasn't about to hand over every last scarab. She had a standard of living to uphold.

His eyes bulged. "Vreva, you are the very torch of liberty!"

"Spare me the patriotic drivel, Fieson." She was in this for the same reason he was, to fight the abomination of slavery, but sometimes his rhetoric struck her as sanctimonious. She was a spy, not a saint. "Your stunt with Heclech will bring you the attention of every slaver in that room. That's what will put our operation in jeopardy, not my trip to Sothis!"

"The bastard deserved it, Vreva." His eyes glowed with righteous fury. "I'd heard of him. He had a nasty reputation for abusing his cargo, and I saw the opportunity to rid the world of his stench."

"And risk our entire operation? Don't be an idealistic fool!" Vreva kept her voice low, but girded it with enough steel to get her point across. "Do you know what slavers do to spies? Have you seen it? Have you smelled it?"

"I know, Vreva." Fieson glowered at her, but she was right and he knew it. "Fine! I shouldn't have killed him in the middle of your little reception. I can't very well un-kill him, and I actually think it improved my reputation with your friends. I could get some valuable information myself, you know."

"Please, Fieson, leave the spying to me. You don't have the temperament for it." Spying required patience, poise, and a persuasive tongue. Fieson had none of those qualities.

"Temperament, or skill between the sheets?" He raked her gown with his eyes.

"I use every weapon I've got, Fieson! Sex isn't my only one, and you know it." For Fieson to criticize her technique was like a blind man advising her on her outfit. He was not trained as a spy, had not endured years of honing the deceptive craft, learning the subtle spells, drugs, and poisons that gave her the information Andoran used to wage its war of abolition. While Fieson was little more than a delivery boy, Vreva was many things: spy, courtesan, poisoner, seductress, sorcerer ...

"Enough. What's done is done, but I'll thank you not to draw any more unwanted attention." Vreva looked into Fieson's dark eyes. The job he did—buying slaves in Okeno in order to free them in Andoran, as well as bringing her supplies and taking her reports to Marshal Trellis—was important. She squeezed his arm in genuine concern. "Please, Fieson. If they find out ..."

"You just don't want to replace me."

"True," she admitted. "Who else would defend my honor against louts and bounders?"

He gave a short, sarcastic laugh, and opened his mouth, but she forestalled him.

"Now, what did you bring me besides wine?"

"Oh, the usual." He fished a key from his pocket and unlocked the first chest.

Tightly packed bottles of Chelish vintages filled it to the brim, but she barely paid them any attention. They removed the wine, and Fieson opened the secret compartment beneath to reveal row after row of vials: spell components and powders, drugs and poisons, oils and elixirs, the tools of her deceitful trade. Combine them with her subtle spells and courtesan training, and the slavers of Okeno didn't stand a chance.

It took nearly an hour to sort the covert cargo and hide it away in the secret nooks scattered throughout her apartment. Into the now-empty compartments they placed tightly packed rolls of platinum coins—the profits of her trip to Sothis.

"You know, I'm probably the only man to ever leave your apartment with more money than I arrived with."

"Just tell Marshal Trellis to put it to good use." Vreva went to the sideboard, poured two glasses of wine, and handed one to Fieson. "And you be careful."

"I am careful." He took his glass and raised it. "To freedom."

"I'll drink to that." Vreva took a sip, eyed him and reached up to loosen his collar and ruffle his hair. "You need to look a little rumpled. And here." She leaned close and smudged her lip rouge on his collar, then retrieved a tiny bottle of scent from a hidden pocket and dabbed a spot onto his neck.

"You don't miss a trick, do you?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Leaning in again, she gave him a well-placed love bite.

"Ouch!"

Vreva just smiled and peered at the mark her teeth had left. "Perfect. Everyone knows you came to visit me, and now you look the part. You're ready to stroll the Fleshfairs."

*Can I bite him, too?* Saffron licked his nose in anticipation, but Vreva ignored his comment.

Fieson quaffed the rest of his wine. "That reminds me; I have an appointment with Werreg this afternoon. He said he had something special for me."

"Something special?" Suspicion nudged the back of Vreva's mind. "Did he say what it was?"

"No, he said it was in appreciation for defending your honor." He grinned and put his glass on the sideboard. "I told you my reputation had improved."

"Be careful, Fieson! Werreg may look like a fat pig, but he's shrewd."

"Oh, he probably just has some new merchandise he wants to sell me." Fieson's smile faded. "He specializes in children, you know. Young and ...compliant children."

"So buy his entire stock and set them free."

"I will!" His eyes took on a far-off look. "Their faces when I tell them they're free, Vreva ...that's what makes it all worth the risk."

"At least you get to see the fruits of your labors." Jealousy stung her, and she masked it by lounging on the arm of the divan, sipping her wine, and reaching down to scratch Saffron's chin. "All I ever see is work, work, work."

"Speaking of which, do you have any kind of report?"

"I just got back, Fieson. I've been out of touch. Maybe when you return."

"All right, but I warn you, Trellis isn't happy."

"Let her come down here and give me a piece of her mind in person, then. Tell her what I told you: my entire operation was at risk. It's the truth. Besides, I'm the best asset she's got, and she knows it." Vreva didn't know that to be a fact, of course. Andoran's Twilight Talons were far too secretive an organization for any one operative to know much about the web of spies that Marshal Trellis had spun across the Inner Sea region. They were actually a branch of the illustrious Eagle Knights, but unlike the famous Steel Falcons and their naval branch, the Gray Corsairs, few knew that the Twilight Talons were more than rumor. What you didn't know, you couldn't divulge under torture.

"It's not your assets that they have a problem with, Vreva. It's your attitude."

"My attitude?" She suppressed the ire that threatened to break her composure. "What's wrong with my attitude?"

"I shouldn't tell you this, but there's been some muttering about you. Some of the Talons think you're too headstrong."

"Headstrong!" That was just too much! She surged off the couch, heedless of the wine that spilled over the rim of her glass. "Why don't you tell those paper-pushers to come down here and service a crowd of sweaty slavers!"

"Vreva, I—"

"No, Fieson. You tell them this: I risk my life every day for the cause! I sell my body for it! I fund my own operation, and I never see a whit of gratitude!" She strode up to him and glared into his startled face. "They'll get their godsdamned report on your next trip!"

*Vreva, you're shaking!*

Worry from Saffron snapped her from her tirade. Fieson stared at her like she'd just grown horns and a tail.

Only once in recent memory had her composure been so thoroughly shattered, and that had been when Celeste's coils had tightened around her in this very room. Vreva didn't like snakes, and with the naga's fangs inches from her throat, she'd been completely undone. Later, when she agreed to help them exact revenge, she'd become accustomed to working with Celeste, but the two had never really warmed toward one another.

Vreva whirled to the sideboard and poured more wine with a trembling hand. Gulping the fine vintage, she closed her eyes and let the heady aroma, rich flavor, and subtle warmth calm her nerves.

"Vreva, relax!" Fieson placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "You have been away too long."

"Yes." Vreva took a steadying breath and turned back to face him, her shield of poise and calm again intact. "I know. I'll be fine, Fieson, really. Just go on. I've got work to do, and so do you."

"Very well, but please, consider what I've told you." He gave her a gallant smile. "All the spying in the world won't do us any good if you anger Helena Trellis. She does value you, but she's got to manage all of the Twilight Talons, and report to the People's Council. They want results, not excuses."

Excuses! But Vreva only smiled and said, "And they'll get them."

Chapter Three

The Most Dangerous Weapons

Old Black's still working on undoing what he originally did to make Stargazer into Sea Serpent, sir."

Torius followed Snick's bright red tricorne hat into the main hold, wondering if he should tell her how badly it clashed with her sea-green hair. Best not. His stomach tightened as he beheld the havoc that had invaded Stargazer's hold. He knew the mess was only temporary, but the piles of timbers and planks gave the impression that his beloved ship had been disemboweled. The pounding hammers had driven Celeste to a room at an inn, just to get some sleep during the day.

Snick continued. "Putting the old mid-deck back in place with the false planking, you know, restepping the masts, and freeing up the firing ports."

"Right."

They passed a team of carpenters fitting planks for the secret compartments for the twelve beautifully crafted ballistae that were the gnome's pride and joy. Until Stargazer was a corsair again, the war machines would be stored forward, dismantled and out of sight of the work crews. No mere merchant would surrender so much cargo space for such elaborate weaponry, and although Old Black and his shipwrights were being paid for discretion as well as workmanship, what they didn't see, they couldn't talk about.

"What I really want to show you before you go traipsing off to the Observatory is the new stuff I devised." Snick ducked under the temporary braces the shipwrights were using to restep the foremast to her proper corsair rake. "Just up here in the forepeak."

Torius stepped around the braces, not sharing the gnome's confidence in their stability. "By the way, Snick, did Celeste talk to you about our transportation problem?"

"Oh, that!" The peacock feather atop her hat bobbed and weaved as she nodded. "No problem. Knocked up a model and gave it to a cartwright friend of mine. He said he could do it, but looked at me like I asked to make a pie from his kidneys!"

"I told her you could figure something out. What is it?"

"And ruin the surprise? No way, sir!" She gave him the mischievous smile that he knew all too well. Her ideas were often unconventional, sometimes eccentric, but usually worked out despite his reservations. "You'll just have to wait and see!"

"He'll have it done in time? We're due to leave in two days."

"Should be done tomorrow, sir."

"Great." He followed her into the forepeak where the crew slung their hammocks. The place was empty except for a pile of odd-looking ceramic pots in one corner; Snick's babies, dismantled and neatly stowed forward; and something low and long covered by a canvas tarp. "So, what have you got for me?"

Snick was almost dancing with excitement. "Remember how well the swimmer bolts worked to slow down those Osirian galleys? Well, I've been thinking about other kinds of surprises, and I cooked up a couple of doozies. Hard part was finding a potter who'd make me these." She snatched a pot from the pile and handed it to him.

The gallon-sized vessel was oval in shape with a threaded steel shank protruding from one end. A hole on one side allowed the pot to be filled and plugged with a waxed bung. Torius turned it all around and arched an eyebrow in question.

"Ta-da!" Snick whipped the tarp off her surprise: a dozen hardwood ballista bolts in a neat row, each fitted with a ceramic pot in place of its iron head. "Picture this: An enemy ship approaches. We shoot a ballista. But, instead of just a sharpened pole chunking into their ship like they expect ...BAM!" The gnome clapped her hands loudly together. "The bolt hits, the pot shatters, and they get a real surprise!"

"Very clever." Torius saw red dots painted on half of the ceramic pots and made an intuitive guess. "Alchemical fire?"

"Half right, sir." Snick pointed out the other pots painted with green dots. "Those are filled with glue resin. When those babies shatter, it'll coat everything around with sticky goo. It'll gum up the works, even glue sailors to the deck!"

"Brilliant, Snick!" Torius arched an eyebrow, already thinking of the myriad uses for such a missile.

"Thank you, sir." She grinned like a gnome with a new toy—which, of course, she was. Torius considered himself lucky that Snick liked dangerous toys.

"Tell me, can you rig a trip line to crack the pot open before the bolt hits?"

"Like an air-burst effect? Sure!" Her grin widened. "I should'a thought of that! Ha! What a mess that'd make! If we shot a bolt or two into a ship's rigging and detonated the pot, resin would coat every running line and block. They'd be unable to trim sails!"

"Exactly. Do the same to some of the fire pots, too. Good for catching sails on fire."

"Glad you're on my side, sir."

"And I'm glad you're on mine, Snick." He tugged the brim of her hat and earned a half-hearted scowl. "You've tested those, right?"

"Tested? What do you mean?" She looked at the row of deadly missiles as if nothing could go wrong with a giant crossbow loaded with an incendiary bolt.

"Do me a favor, Snick. Fill one pot with water and fire it when Thillion takes the ship out for her shakedown. I want to make sure the pots don't break apart before they leave the ship."

"Oh! Yeah ...that would be bad." She gave him a chagrined look and shrugged. "I guess a little test wouldn't hurt."

"Good. And pots are cheap. Lay in some extras." He lifted her hat and tousled her hair, just to annoy her. As she snatched the gaudy tricorne back, a sudden thought struck him. "Just how much do these little toys cost?"

"Um ...well ..." The gnome clutched her hat to her chest and looked away. "They're kind of pricey, but I only ordered a couple dozen."

"How much, Snick?"

"The fire bolts were only a hundred scarabs each!"

Torius cringed. "And the glue ones?"

"Um ...about two hundred each. It's a special kind of resin."

He did the math in his head and sighed. "Just try not to spend me into the poorhouse. And keep those damned things secure. Catch my ship on fire, and I'll tie you to the bowsprit for a figurehead."

"Yes, sir."

"Naked!"

"Yes, sir."

"In a full gale!"

"That's just cruel, sir." She gave him a doe-eyed look undoubtedly intended to garner sympathy.

"I'm a pirate, Snick. A cruel, nasty, mean, heartless pirate."

"No, you're not, sir!" She looked shocked. "Nasty, mean, and heartless, sure, but nobody's ever said you were cruel!"

"Well ...I'm broadening my horizons." He winked. "I thought cruel would be a good next step."

"How about dirty, or stinky, or foul-mouthed? Those are good!"

"I think I'll stick with what I've got."

"Works for me, sir!" She grinned and saluted, then turned back to her dangerous new toys.

Torius climbed the companionway ladder to the foredeck instead of trying to navigate the heart-breaking hold again. The deck wasn't much better, with lines, timber, barrels of stores, and tools everywhere. Torius looked over the chaos, and wondered how he would tolerate separation from all this when they left for the Observatory.

Two days ...There had been something else on his mind for far longer than their trip, and he made a sudden decision. Now. It has to be now, or I might never work up the nerve again.

Torius climbed up to the forecastle railing and leaned out over the murky water of the harbor as if checking Stargazer's bobstays. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial filled with pearly liquid: Celeste's venom. His left forearm itched in anticipation. Early in their relationship, he'd become inured and addicted to the naga's venom. It had strange hallucinogenic properties when mixed with alcohol, and nagas had even been known to use it to attract followers. For Torius, it had seemed like a shackle on his soul, which, as a former slave, he couldn't tolerate, even from the woman he loved. Deliberately, and before he could think of a reason not to, he held it out over the water and opened his hand. The vial made a tiny splash and sank out of sight.

Gone ...

He withdrew the grooved sail needle from his belt and flicked it into the sea.

Gone ...

Torius felt a sudden tremor that was the first telltale sign of withdrawals, though he knew it was only his mind playing tricks on him. His body wouldn't register the absence of the addictive venom for at least another day. Looking out to sea, he breathed deep of the salt air, letting it fill his lungs and calm his nerves. He thought about Celeste, about all they'd been through and how, only now, he felt like they might just be all right.

∗ ∗ ∗

Oil and flesh, gentle pressure, a deep moan of pleasure from Werreg, and Vreva glanced at the sand glass on the sideboard. The tincture of toadstool extract in the massage oil—to which she had already consumed the antidote—should take effect soon. The drug would befuddle the senses and loosen the slaver's tongue. Her long absence had left her bereft of information on the current state of the slave market, and Werreg was one of her best sources. Vreva specialized in easing information pleasurably, not painfully, from her clients. When they left, they never knew they'd given her anything at all.

*I hate it when you do that,* Saffron mewed from the arm of the divan. *It's disgusting. Like kneading oily bread dough!* He shook his head in distaste and commenced licking his paws.

Vreva glared at him, projecting a stern sense of duty. This was their job. Yes, it was distasteful, but it was necessary. She didn't need him reminding her just how distasteful. She turned back to her work, focusing her attention on her subject.

"You seem tense." Vreva pushed her thumbs into the muscles of Werreg's back, assessing his state of bliss. He groaned under the expert pressure. "I trust business is not too terrible?"

"Business is wonderful, my dear. I've simply been too long without your attention." He groaned again as she worked her hands down his lower back.

Soon.

"Business is wonderful ...and it will only get better." His words were slightly slurred.

He's almost ready. "Oh? I suppose you have some plan to corner the market?"

"The plan is not mine, but the profit will be." His breath came short as she traced the nerves in his legs, her every motion designed to distract him from the conversation. "And it's not the market we'll be cornering."

Saffron's ears perked up, and she felt his curiosity. Or perhaps he felt hers. They were so intimately linked that sometimes it was difficult to discern whose emotions she was feeling. "What plan is that?"

"Promise me you won't be cross if I tell you, my dear."

Her curiosity surged. Werreg usually wasn't so reluctant to discuss business. Sliding forward to straddle his buttocks, Vreva worked her oil-slicked thighs in a gentle kneading motion. With that distraction, a silent spell leapt from her fingers, enveloping his mind in a glove of compliance. Before he noticed the pause, she continued both the massage and her gentle persuasion.

"Dear Werreg. You could never make me cross. What plan do you refer to?"

"It's about your friend Captain Templeton, I'm afraid."

Curiosity transformed to a cold knot of worry in her gut. Vreva laughed delicately to cover her concern. "Something about that lout he killed? I told him he shouldn't have, but the man does have a temper."

"No, my dear. Few of us found fault with his actions to defend your honor." He shifted, and she felt his muscles tense. Vreva didn't know if his reluctance stemmed from his desire not to perturb her, or from the sensitivity of the information. Gently, she massaged his back in silence until he relaxed, determined to find out what he knew about Fieson, but wary of overplaying her hand.

"Then what about him merits a plan?"

"There have been ...rumors that he's not what he seems."

"Oh?" Her worry coalesced into dread, but she kept her voice and motions steady. "He's been bringing me wine for years. What could he be but a merchant captain?"

"A recently recovered slave told a different tale. In exchange for his freedom, he informed the merchant council that the captain is not taking the slaves he purchases back to Cheliax at all."

"Why would anyone care where he sells his cargo?" Her dread edged toward panic, but she forced it down.

"Because he's taking them to Andoran, my dear." His tone dripped distaste. "He's freeing them. He's an abolitionist! If he's taking slaves to Almas, what else is he taking them? Information? He could be spying for them!"

"But I've known him for years!" Vreva kept her tone light. She didn't want to alienate Werreg and potentially ruin her spell by ridiculing his supposition, but she might be able to convince him that the merchant council had been misled. "A slave would tell you anything to earn his freedom. It must be a lie."

"We thought that, too, but magical means were used to make sure he wasn't lying. At least, the man believed he was telling the truth ..." Werreg laughed low in his chest. "...before they executed him."

Typical, she thought. Offer a man his freedom, then kill him for his honesty.

"But surely you can't condemn a man on the word of a slave." Vreva fought to maintain her seductive gyrations as her mind leapt ahead. I've got to warn Fieson! He'd sailed three days ago, but if she could send him a message, she still might be able to avert disaster.

"No, we can't trust the word of a slave, and that's where I've earned my windfall." Werreg squirmed under her, rolling over so that she now straddled his lap. Evidently the thought of money excited him even more than her ministrations. "Just the advance was enough to contract your services for the entire night!"

"How delightful for me!" She gave him a sultry smile as he grasped her hips. "Whatever did you do to earn such a windfall?"

She continued her serpentine motions, her hands working the flabby muscles of his chest as she gasped in feigned ecstasy. She would have to contact Fieson through magical means. She had scrolls to cast dream messages, but they only worked if the recipient was asleep, and she couldn't be sure of that. There were other means, but the spells were beyond her skill. She needed to get to a wizard tonight; that meant getting Werreg out of the way quickly.

"The merchant council paid me to give the captain a gift enchanted with a location spell. He will condemn himself." He tightened his grip, hard enough to bruise. "And when they apprehend him, his cargo will be mine. You should be pleased, since it will allow me to afford yet another night with you."

"Oh, I am pleased." Vreva increased her gyrations. The sooner he finished, the sooner she could get him out of the way. Yet more information would be useful, and he was completely under her spell now. "But how could a simple location spell condemn Captain Templeton?"

"Easily. If he sails toward Westcrown as he says he does, there'll be no repercussions. If he sails toward Almas, however, there will be a reckoning."

"You're so clever!" If Devil's Dawn had not yet passed the Isle of Kortos, there might still be time. It was not only Fieson's life on the line, but her own. Forcefully quelling her desolate thoughts, Vreva brought her full attention to Werreg's pleasure. There was not a moment to waste.

In the languorous afterward, she rose from his sweaty embrace and went to the sideboard. As she poured two glasses of red wine from the carafe, Vreva twisted one of the decorative roses carved in the sideboard molding, and a tiny compartment opened to reveal several diminutive vials. She chose one, and emptied it into one of the glasses. The full-bodied Chelam vintage would conceal the hint of nutmeg imparted by the knock-out toxin. Moments after they toasted the success of Werreg's plan he was snoring.

"I've got to go out, Saffron." She hurried to her bedroom to don a pair of silk pantaloons and a dark blouse. "I've got to warn Fieson, and I need to buy a scroll to do it."

*Wonderful. And I get to sit here and watch the slimeball snore.* He yawned and lashed his tail. *Thrilling.*

She flashed him a glare and stood in front of her mirror. Vreva conjured an image in her mind, murmured softly and cast a spell to change her identity. Okeno was not a city in which a pretty young woman could walk alone at night. Consequently, Vreva did not appear to be a pretty young woman. Instead, she was a he, with nut-brown skin and short-cropped auburn hair. Loose pants and a tunic adorned him and a yellow collar encircled his throat. The guise was one of her favorites, the eunuch slave of a potion crafter she entertained. While slavers often stooped to knocking incautious folk on the head to augment their stock, abducting another man's chattel was considered outright theft. Besides, she could better mimic the dulcet voice of a eunuch.

Tucking a money pouch beneath her sash, she listened at her apartment door, then opened it and peered out. The corridor was empty. Her route to the back stair then down and out the servants' entrance should be empty this late. Once in the alley behind the inn, she'd be in the clear. Werreg snuffled loudly in his sleep, but Vreva had no fear that he would wake soon.

"Watch him, Saffron. I'll be back within the hour."

*If he wakes, can I eat him?* Saffron licked his nose, then yawned to show his teeth.

"No." Vreva steeled her nerves and prepared to step out. "Cockroaches are bad enough, my love. I draw the line at slavers."

∗ ∗ ∗

A single lit window along the dark street drew Vreva like a moth to a flame.

Thank Calistria! He's still up.

This particular wizard had a pesh habit that left him sleeping late, so he kept his shop open well into the evening. She checked the street and hurried across. A pall of smoke enveloped her as she pulled open the door. Vreva blinked to clear her eyes, tried not to breathe too deeply, and walked deferentially toward the counter. The wizard sat there inhaling narcotic smoke from a hookah. His rheumy eyes rose slowly from the tome he was reading.

"What is it?"

"My master wishes me to purchase a scroll for him, great wizard." She bent in a deep bow more suited to addressing royalty than a worn-out, magic-using pesh addict, but it had the desired effect. "He wishes to send a short message a long distance to a person he knows well."

"Hmph." The wizard took another puff from his pipe and rose from his chair. "Such magic is expensive. This must be an important message."

"My master doesn't tell me such things, great wizard." She bowed again.

"It'd be cheaper if he came to my shop. I could cast the spell for him, and he could send the message through me. I'm very discreet." He rifled through a shelf of scrolls as he spoke, and pulled down a dusty old roll of vellum.

"As you say, great wizard. I don't know such things. I do as my master bids me." This was not a message she wanted to be overheard.

"Very well. It's no business of mine how your master wishes to spend his money."

He put the scroll on the table and named an exorbitant price. After some expected haggling, Vreva handed over the money and took the scroll. She bowed again as she left the shop, but the old wizard was already back in his chair puffing on his hookah. If she was lucky, he wouldn't even remember the exchange.

She found a deserted alley, cast a quick light spell, and broke the seal on the scroll. Composing the message posed more of a challenge than casting the scribed spell. She knew Fieson couldn't sail to Westcrown and sell his cargo of slaves. Aside from his moral impulses against slavery, he had undoubtedly already told them they were free and could not renege on that promise. But if he sailed for Almas, the slave galleys would surely take him at sea. There was only one place he could reach in time and disappear completely.

Vreva cast the spell and whispered Fieson's name, recalling his face in her mind's eye. When she was sure the magic was working properly, she said, "Werreg's gift is a trap. Your true motives are known. Sail to Absalom, not Almas. Sell the gift and disappear. Do not get captured."

His reply came instantly.

"I can't dump three hundred freed slaves in Absalom! My cover would be completely blown! I'll dump his gift and take them to a little—"

The magic faded, his reply unfinished.

"Oh, for the love of Calistria!" Vreva threw the spent scroll against the wall in frustration. Fieson was no caster, and didn't know that the length of the message was limited. Now all she knew was that he wasn't going to do as she suggested. His cover was already in danger, and dumping Werreg's gift at sea would tell the slavers that he knew they were after him. That in turn would imply that someone had contacted him to warn him of the trap. They would know he had an accomplice here in Okeno.

This was typical of Fieson. She had discovered the trap, and she was the one with the best information, yet, as usual, he thought he knew better. "The consuls may think I'm headstrong, but at least I'm not stupid!"

Vreva breathed deeply to calm herself. She had no way to know what Fieson would do, and couldn't afford the time for another spell. She had to get back to Werreg before he woke. The slaver would undoubtedly insist on her undivided attention for the rest of the night. She quelled a surge of nausea and hurried home.

Chapter Four

Loyalty's Reward

Werreg! What a pleasant—"

"They've captured Devil's Dawn!" Werreg stood in Vreva's doorway, a triumphant expression distorting his fat face.

"Oh?" The unwelcome pronouncement struck like a knife in her gut.

"Three galleys surprised him just west of Kortos! He was on his way to Almas, not Westcrown." Striding past her to the sideboard, he poured a glass of wine and emptied it in a single draught.

"I'd nearly forgotten your little plot." Vreva's mind leapt ahead to the potential consequences. If the slavers had taken Fieson alive and interrogated him, her neck could already be in the noose.

*We should run!* Saffron yowled.

She snapped her familiar a covert glare. They couldn't run away just yet. She had to discover how much the slavers knew about the abolitionists, not to mention her own involvement. If Werreg even hinted that she might be suspected, she would kill him and disappear. She closed the door and locked it.

"Is that the reason you needed to see me so urgently?" Vreva struck a seductive pose and pouted. "The only reason?"

"I thought you'd like to know." He looked crestfallen at her lack of reaction. He refilled his glass and poured one for her, bringing it to her with an ingratiating smile. "Templeton was your particular friend, after all."

"He brought me wine." She took her glass. "This very vintage. He was no more my particular friend than any other hot-headed merchant captain." Vreva traced a line along the nerves below his ear with a finger. "Not like you, my dear Werreg."

"But you did know him. And now you know that he was no true friend ...not like me." Werreg planted a wet kiss on her cheek, his hand caressing her hip.

"Not like you at all." She touched her glass to his and sipped. Werreg gulped down the vintage and turned back to the sideboard for more. In his moment of inattention, Vreva cast a silent spell to delve his mind. She had no time for subtle seductions. She had to know what he knew.

"The merchant council plans to make an example of him."

"An example? How so?" Vreva focused on Werreg, willing her perceptions beyond his spoken words into his unspoken thoughts.

"I can't tell you much, of course. This is still all hush-hush, but I can say that they're bringing Templeton and his ship back to Okeno." Empty, godsdammit! How the hell was the bastard able to offload his slaves before he was intercepted? I'd like to watch when the inquisitor takes him apart. That was supposed to be my profit!

"A public execution?" An inquisitor was trouble. Fieson might be able to withstand questioning by the merchant council, but an inquisitor ...Despair for both Fieson and herself welled up in her.

"After he's questioned, yes. He and his abolitionist crew will burn for all of Okeno to see." A sweet flame indeed!

Vreva managed not to cringe at the vile image she pulled from Werreg's thoughts. "Questioned? I thought you already knew what he was doing."

"We know he was freeing slaves, but we think he had help." A godsdamned spy in our midst! But we'll find the bastard and burn him, too.

Two things gave Vreva a bit of hope: they hadn't interrogated Fieson yet, and Werreg thought of the assumed accomplice as "him," so they didn't suspect her yet. She had to make sure they never did. She might be able to salvage her anonymity if she acted quickly.

"And they're bringing him here for questioning?" She forced a malicious smile. "I'd like to see that."

"So would I! Unfortunately, the questioning will take place aboard Bloody Scourge, since Captain Nekhtal was in charge of the operation." Stupid jurisdictional foolishness. If only the Masks simply gave us the money to fund the operation and kept their noses out.

The Masks, Vreva thought. So the Pactmasters are behind this. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of being taken by those mysterious creatures. Wrapped in secretive robes, and wearing hideous concealing masks, they ruled Katapesh as a plutocratic merchant council. No spy dared try to infiltrate their inner sanctum, for it was madness simply to look upon their unmasked faces. Fortunately, they never left the capital city that gave Katapesh its name. Their agents, however, did.

"When will they arrive? I'll have to make time in my schedule for the event."

"They should be here in two days. Your schedule must be tight." Werreg sidled up to Vreva, his free hand caressing her hip again, and his thoughts taking a predictable turn. "Think you can fit me in?"

Vreva could detect nothing further about Fieson through the depraved images filling the slaver's mind. She ended the spell before it turned her stomach. "I can always fit you in, dear Werreg." Gently, she pulled the wineglass from his grasp and manipulated him toward the door. "Don't forget to make an appointment ...on your way out."

"Very well, my dear." He nodded and bowed in acquiescence.

Even before the door closed, Vreva began to formulate a plan to ensure Fieson's silence.

∗ ∗ ∗

"Well, if we do run into raiders in the desert, we probably won't have to fight 'em." Grogul mounted his camel and tapped it with his quirt. The ungainly animal lurched to its feet with a long grunt.

"Why not?" Torius boarded his own mount and did likewise, his motions slightly less steady. Two days, and he was starting to feel the first real pangs of withdrawal.

"Because they'll take one look at that gnome's contraption and die laughing."

"You're just jealous because you didn't think of it!" Snick stuck her tongue out at the bosun. "It may not be pretty, but it'll revolutionize desert travel! I'm thinkin' of naming it something snappy! The Desert Rover, maybe."

"How about the Barrel-mobile, or the Keg Roller?" Grogul laughed at the gnome's rude gesture.

The wagon itself was not greatly modified, but the narrow wheels had been replaced by wide rollers that looked like ale barrels with half their staves removed, then plated with circumferential iron strips. They clattered horrendously on cobbled streets, but Snick assured them that the wagon would glide through sand like a ship on a gently rolling sea.

"I just hope it holds together," murmured the driver. Dukkol was the only dwarf on Stargazer's crew, and also the only crew member with any experience driving a team of four mules.

"She'll hold together fine!" Snick patted one of the wheels. "Just don't go too fast."

"How fast is too fast?" If they ran into trouble, they might have to move quickly.

"On hard ground, you better keep it down to a fast walk. On sand, I think you could go faster."

"You think?" Torius wondered if this contrivance had undergone the same amount of testing as her ballistic weaponry. We'll find out soon enough.

"We're ready!" he called out, and Celeste emerged from the shadow of the companionway. She quickly descended the gangplank, climbed up onto the wagon, and settled onto the seat beside Dukkol, looking perfectly human.

Illusion or transformation? Torius wondered. Sometimes the only way he could tell was to touch her. Celeste would spend most of her time inside the wagon out of the sight of curious eyes, but she was determined to ride outside as much as her magic allowed. Her eyes were bright, and she fairly trembled in her eagerness to get underway. Sometimes he forgot how much the constant need for anonymity, sequestered aboard Stargazer for days at a time, affected her. Sights that passed unseen before his eyes due to familiarity, she gazed on with unsuppressed wonder, and he loved her all the more for that simple innocence.

As if she had read his thoughts, Celeste turned toward him and winked. "Ready, my captain!"

Torius surveyed their small expedition one final time. They had a dozen camels, eight bearing riders, while the others carried supplies. Additional provisions were packed in the wagon, though space had been set aside for Celeste to ride inside. He snapped his quirt to his camel's flanks, and the animal lurched into motion. The rest of the caravan fell in behind.

"Have fun, Captain!"

Torius turned in his saddle to wave to Snick. Thillion stood on Stargazer's cluttered quarterdeck, one hand raised in farewell. Torius knew his ship was in good hands, but he still didn't like the thought of leaving her. With effort, he turned away. Celeste rode with a disconcerted expression as the wagon's wheels clattered across the cobbles.

"You okay?" At least the vehicle was drawing more stares than she was.

"I'm fine, Torius." Celeste swallowed, her eagerness somewhat subdued by the jarring ride, and drew the cloth of her kaftan up to cover her face. "I just hope we get to the Observatory in one piece."

∗ ∗ ∗

Vreva strolled along the bustling Okeno waterfront, gazing out from the shade of a parasol as if amused by the hubbub. The ships of the small armada that had apprehended Devil's Dawn were docking, and half the city had turned out. Saffron, tucked into the crook of his mistress's arm, functioned as Vreva's second pair of eyes. Together they scanned the crowd, avoiding those who might delay them. The inquisition of the prisoners was scheduled to start tomorrow. Vreva needed to see Fieson before that happened.

The crew of the huge two-decker galley, Bloody Scourge, was busy securing dock lines as Vreva approached. On the quarterdeck the ship's tall captain stood beside the wheel, watching over his crew. She observed him for several minutes, assessing the information she had gathered about him, and trying to gauge his vulnerabilities.

*Are you sure about this? He looks ...um ...* Saffron's quiet mews trailed off. Vreva shared his concern.

"I'm sure, love." She stroked his neck and assessed her quarry. "He's just a man ...sort of."

Captain Nekhtal stood head and shoulders above his helmsman, his shoulders straining at the seams of his jacket. His hard yellow eyes swept the pier, and Vreva felt them pass over her. His gray-green complexion and two prominent tusks protruding from his lower jaw marked his half-orc heritage, but Vreva knew a keen mind lurked beneath that jutting brow.

Nekhtal's reputation for ruthlessness was legendary, which was probably why the Pactmasters chose him to pursue Devil's Dawn. As one of the most successful slaver captains in the fleet, Nekhtal was incredibly wealthy. She had also learned that he was a devout worshiper of the devil-god Asmodeus, married, and purportedly faithful, which was why Vreva had not previously made his acquaintance. If he had been one of her clients, this would have been easier.

We'll see about that. A calm confidence settled over her.

The jostling crowd parted to allow Vreva through. Gliding up to the gangway as the captain started to descend, she focused on him and cast a silent charm spell.

"Captain Nekhtal." She curtsied as he stepped onto the quay. "I congratulate you on your victory."

"You're Vreva Jhafae, aren't you?" His face remained impassive despite her spell.

"How delightful that you recognize me." She beamed at him, pressing a hand to her décolletage to draw his eye. His eyes remained firmly fixed upon hers.

"Few in Okeno wouldn't recognize you. Thank you for your good wishes, but I need to see to my ship."

"Just a word, if I may, Captain." Vreva stepped forward and rested a hand on his thick forearm. She felt him tense. She didn't know if his discomfort was a good sign or bad, but she would find out soon. "I would very much like to congratulate you in a more ...intimate setting."

He gave her a tight smile. "As much as I'd like to accept, madam, I'm—"

"Happily married. Yes, I know." She trailed her hand away, caressing the nerves up to his elbow. "Please don't assume that I wish to interfere with that, Captain. I'd simply like to have you for dinner." She ran her tongue lightly over her upper lip and let her statement settle for a heartbeat before adding, "And your wife as well, if you would ask her to attend."

"For ...dinner?" She watched his throat work as he swallowed. "Both of us?"

"Of course, Captain. Many accept my hospitality in the company of their spouses, lovers, concubines, or any number of ...special friends. Please say you'll come; it would give me pleasure to honor one of your stature in the fleet."

"I'll ...have to ask my wife, but ..." Nekhtal swallowed again, and his green-tinged features flushed darker. "I think we would enjoy your company."

"Oh, excellent!" She handed him a tiny sealed envelope. "Tonight then, at sunset. Just present that to Master Quopek at the Inn of the Eighth Sin. He has a most excellent chef, you know." She touched his arm again and leaned in. "Tell your lovely wife Jaliga that she's in for quite a treat."

She smiled and turned away. The hook was set.

∗ ∗ ∗

"Thank you, Captain." Vreva took Nekhtal's arm, grateful for the support as she ascended Bloody Scourge's gangplank. "I'm in your debt."

"The debt has been paid." His deep voice carried notes of fatigue and mirth. "It's the least I could do after ...your hospitality."

She gave him a smile and patted his hand. "It was my pleasure, Captain." That was a lie, of course. Vreva's evening with Nekhtal and Jaliga had recalled some of the more brutal elements of her training. It also taught her why the slaver had named his ship Bloody Scourge. Jaliga had a penchant for flagellation. Only a healing potion had allowed Vreva to avoid scars from the encounter. "I hope to entertain you both again. Now, however, I must see to this unpleasant task before the inquisitor arrives."

"Of course. Betrayal by a friend can never be redressed, but I hope you achieve some satisfaction."

As they stepped onto the deck, an incredible din of snarling and growling raised the hair on the back of Vreva's neck. She looked to the source, and her knees turned to water.

"Oh!" She nearly fell before Nekhtal caught her.

"Ha! Don't worry, it's just Rufus."

Upon the quarterdeck paced the ugliest beast Vreva had ever seen, a caricature of a diseased bulldog bloated to monstrous proportions, its scaly hide covered with oozing pustules and thin patches of bristly hair. Teeth like daggers gnashed together as it snarled and barked, spattering thick strands of phlegm on the deck. A chain, secured by a sturdy eyebolt embedded in the mizzenmast, rattled back and forth as the creature paced.

"What ...is it?" Vreva was glad she hadn't brought Saffron.

"A trollhound." Nekhtal's tone evinced his pride in the beast. "Best watchdog I've ever had. And as for running down escaped slaves, well, sometimes there's not a lot left, but he always gets his man."

After that nasty surprise, Vreva felt eager to retreat to the bleak confines of the lower decks. The stench of human confinement thickened as they descended three steep stairways to the brig. Captain Nekhtal unlocked an iron-bound door, and ordered the two guards, "See to the lady's safety."

"Aye, Captain."

Nekhtal strode off, and the guards stood by. Vreva knew she wouldn't be allowed to see Fieson alone, but the guards presented a problem. If Fieson blurted out something stupid, she would be in trouble. She stood for a moment, girding herself for what was to come. A deep breath only intensified the stench of the nearby slave quarters. She suppressed a surge of nausea, and walked into the brig.

In a pool of sickly yellow light from a lone lantern, Fieson Templeton hung in chains. People in chains were no oddity in Okeno, but seeing them on someone with whom she was so closely acquainted unearthed too many painful memories. Her gorge rose, but she forced it down, hardening her face until it felt carved from stone.

"Hello, Vreva." He stirred just enough to make the manacles clatter. They hung from a peg over his head. Likely his shoulders were dislocated from days thus, but he looked otherwise unhurt. He had not yet been tortured. "Come to gloat?"

Vreva stepped up and slapped him as hard as she could. Her palm stung with it, and the astonishment on his face and the chuckle from the guards told her that everyone was convinced of the sincerity of the blow.

"How dare you speak to me!" She forced her voice to tremble with rage. "You used me! You bought my friendship with false gallantry and presents, just so you could spy on my friends!"

"Vreva, I—"

She slapped him again to abort any incautious words. "Quiet, you ...filth! I just wanted to see you before the inquisitor has her due."

Fieson's eyes widened, and fear flashed in his eyes. He knew he was going to be interrogated, but apparently he had not known that an inquisitor would be doing the honors. When he returned his gaze to Vreva's, it only showed stoic defiance—the same sentiment that had gotten him captured.

You poor, stupid man. Vreva plucked a pearl button from the front of her gown and held it up between them, blocking the guards' view with her body. Flicking her eyes toward the false pearl, she spoke harshly to Fieson.

"Before the flames ease your pain, she'll crush you and learn what kind of spy you really are! And you will talk, Fieson!" She slapped him again, then jerked his face back to hers, covertly tucking the pearl between his lips with her thumb. "She'll learn all of your secrets, all of your accomplices, and all of your sins."

"I'll tell them nothing, harlot!" Vreva heard the quiet crunch of the false button between his teeth, and watched the muscles of his throat flex.

Fieson looked steadily into her eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched in what Vreva interpreted as thanks. The gesture nearly overcame her. For the first time, she regretted their adversarial relationship. He may be a fool, but he's a good man. She tried to say something else, to spit out a new invective, but the words wouldn't come. Vreva turned away, forcing her mien to remain stoic and vengeful. She couldn't allow the guards to see one whit of sorrow.

Striding out of the brig, Vreva nearly collided with a tall woman in the narrow passage. She wore chainmail beneath a white tabard emblazoned with the golden key of Abadar, and carried a heavy case in one hand. An ornate repeating crossbow hung from one hip, and a glittering mace from the other. It seemed only logical that the Pactmasters, oligarchs of Katapesh, would hire an inquisitor of the god of merchants, wealth, and law. Her shrewd, golden eyes met Vreva's, and one dark eyebrow arched.

"You're the courtesan, Vreva Jhafae, aren't you?" Her voice was low and resonant, her accent rolling and melodic, unmistakably Varisian.

"I am." Vreva curtsied. "You're the inquisitor?"

"Zarina Capoli, Abadar's servant, at your service." The woman nodded, her eyes lingering on Vreva far longer than necessary for a casual glance.

The scrutiny unnerved her. As a well-known courtesan and acknowledged beauty, she was accustomed to being stared at, sometimes with jealousy, other times with esteem, often with lust. This look was none of those. This, she thought as she considered those golden eyes, might be the last thing the rabbit sees before the hawk plunges talons into its flesh. She bowed her head politely and tried to edge past. "If you would please excuse me ..."

"Mistress Jhafae, I'd like to speak with you when my work here's done."

A tingle of dread trickled down her spine. "I'm at your disposal. Simply call on me at the Inn of—"

"I know where you live." The inquisitor's smile intensified the tingle.

"Very good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm quite spent." She turned to go.

"He was your friend, wasn't he?"

"I thought so." Vreva put every bit of sincerity she could into her voice. "I was mistaken."

∗ ∗ ∗

"Quite a spectacle." Vreva touched a perfumed handkerchief to her lip and smiled through her misery.

"Yes, it is!" Quopek's amusement and the festive air of the crowd nauseated Vreva on a level that made lying with slavers pale by comparison. Devil's Dawn lay at anchor in the middle of Yellow Harbor, her yards stripped of sails, adorned only with the twelve dangling forms of her captain and crew. Unfortunately, they had not been hung by their necks. That would have been too easy a death to entertain this bloodthirsty crowd. The entire city had turned out for the event. Children ran and played, ladies fanned themselves and bought iced drinks, and gentlemen placed wagers on which of the condemned would fall first.

A cheer rose up as the first fire arrow arched onto the galleon's oil-soaked deck. Vreva forced a cry of delight.

Flames rose, and the forms in the rigging twisted and writhed in the heat. The toxin she'd given Fieson would spare him the agony, at least. It destroyed the peripheral nervous system of the victim, providing an increasing numbness, while leaving the mind clear and cognizant. Any weakness or lack of coordination on Fieson's part could have been easily attributed to his days in chains. By now, a day after consuming the toxin, he would be utterly numb.

*This is disgusting,* her familiar said from the crook of her arm.

"Hush, my love. It will be over soon."

The cheers continued as the flames rose to engulf the entire ship. Eventually, the forlorn shapes stopped struggling, and the ropes burned through, sending them crashing to the burning deck. The spectacle subsided, and the merriment with it. Vreva sipped chilled wine and refused to let tears flow. Finally, after the masts fell and the ship sagged in the water, she turned to board the carriage back to the inn.

"Excuse me, Mistress Jhafae."

The familiar voice clutched at Vreva's heart like a ghoul's chill hand. She turned to find Zarina Capoli standing behind her, two city guards by her sides. The afternoon sun glared off the inquisitor's chainmail, and weapons. Vreva had never seen such a hard, sharp woman. Even her eyes gleamed like the tips of golden lances.

Fieson must have talked ...

"Inquisitor Capoli. How may I help you?" Vreva forced a smile and a curtsy, covertly plucking another false button from her gown. This was different than the one she had given Fieson. The poison was painless, quick, and lethal. She prepared herself for death, projecting a deep sorrow to Saffron, her only love in the world.

*Don't!* her familiar yowled. *Please!*

"I'd like to make an appointment with you, Mistress Jhafae. We have some business to conduct."

"Oh?" Vreva raised her hand to scratch Saffron under the chin, bringing the deadly button close enough to pop into her mouth before they could stop her.

Saffron struggled. *Let me down! I'll bite her and you can escape!*

"What kind of business?" She projected a feeling of resigned calm to Saffron, but still he struggled.

The inquisitor's lips parted in an unexpected smile, changing her entire aspect. "Abadar's business. As you may have heard, we suspect that Captain Templeton had an accomplice. I'm told that you know virtually everyone in Okeno, whereas I know few. I'd like to discuss your client list with you."

"My client list?" Vreva lowered the hand that held the pearl, daring to hope. Saffron stopped struggling, though she could still feel his unsheathed claws. "I'm rather heavily booked for the next few days, so ...perhaps over dinner this evening? Shall we say, seven o'clock? The Inn of the Eighth Sin has a wonderful chef."

"Very good. I look forward to speaking with you." She nodded politely.

"As do I." Vreva curtsied in response.

The woman's smile widened before she turned to vanish into the crowd, still trailed by the city guards.

"Well, that was ...unexpected," she whispered to Saffron.

*You have a gift for understatement!* Saffron nuzzled her chin, his relief flooding through her. *That was better than a plate of raw chicken livers!*

"Yes." Vreva boarded the carriage and allowed herself to breathe. "Yes, Saffron, my love, but was it a bit too perfect? Am I not a suspect at all, or does she just want me to believe that I'm not?" She eyed the false pearl in her hand and tucked it into a pocket, just in case.

Chapter Five

Unwelcome Guests

The knock at the door sounded at precisely seven o'clock.

*Well, at least she's punctual,* Saffron meowed.

Vreva smoothed her modest gown and glanced around the apartment. The table was set with her best porcelain, silver, and crystal. Diaphanous drapes rippled in the breeze wafting through the open doors to the balcony. All was ready to welcome her guest. That included a hand crossbow loaded with an envenomed bolt hidden beneath the table, and an array of poisons secreted in the sideboard.

"Watch her closely, especially when my back's turned. If she casts a spell, I need to know."

Saffron meowed his agreement, and hopped up to the back of the divan.

Vreva had never dealt with an inquisitor before, but she knew they were adept at spotting lies. Talking with Capoli would be like dancing on the edge of a sword—a single slip could be lethal. She would have to choose her words carefully. With a quick prayer to Calistria, she opened the door. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for what waited beyond.

"Inquisitor Capoli." Vreva curtsied, flashed her best smile to hide her startlement, and swept her arm in a graceful arc. "Welcome to my humble home."

"Thank you, Mistress Jhafae."

Zarina Capoli entered the room looking nothing like she had at their previous two encounters. Instead of chainmail, she wore an emerald-green gown that draped simply yet elegantly over her broad shoulders, accented only by a golden chain around her waist hung with a gleaming key of Abadar and a bejeweled dagger. A small handbag completed the outfit. Her long, dark hair was no longer tied back in a severe queue, but flowed loose to the middle of her back. Previously, Vreva had been so caught up in the severity of the inquisitor's garb, mien, and actions, she hadn't noticed what a beautiful woman she was. Her eyes, the only feature that hadn't softened, swept around the room as if memorizing every detail.

"Your decorations are very bold."

"Thank you." Vreva shrugged. "I must admit, I love the color, but the frippery's not to my taste. I'm afraid I fell victim to the wiles of a fashionable Taldan decorator who insisted that I buy out his entire stock of brocade."

"In Varisia, we say that colors carry power. Red's the color of lust, long life, and inner strength. You're still young, but as a courtesan, you must embody the other two aspects." Her mouth twisted in a crooked little smile that added sincerity.

"And green?" Vreva nodded toward the inquisitor's dress. "What does that signify?"

"Wisdom and self-control, but truly, I just like the color."

"It's lovely on you." Wisdom and self-control. Vreva added that to her mental profile of Zarina Capoli.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm dressed ..." She fluttered a hand and lapsed into Varisian. "...crovishka. I'm sorry. Sometimes I like my own language to say certain things. It means ‘for comfort, but in beauty.'"

"Casual elegance?"

"Exactly." Inquisitor Capoli's teeth flashed white against her olive skin. "I didn't see armor and weapons as necessary for a discussion of your client list, and chainmail isn't very comfortable."

The inquisitor's nonchalance made Vreva edgier than if the woman had marched in fully armed, with a squad of guards on her heels. It was an old ploy to put the subject in a relaxed atmosphere and feign friendship to lower her guard. Well, two could play that game, and Vreva was a master.

Smiling at her guest, she said, "Please, call me Vreva."

The inquisitor nodded graciously. "Thank you. Such formalities are tiresome. Please call me Zarina."

"Oh, good!" Vreva laughed lightly and strolled to the sideboard. "I was hoping we could make this more of a friendly discussion than an interrogation. Would you care for a drink before dinner?"

"No, thank you. I should keep my head clear for our discussion." Zarina joined her at the sideboard. "I know the reputation that inquisitors have, but I want to assure you that it's often ill-deserved. I hope this can be a friendly encounter." Her eyes drifted over the bottles on the sideboard. "Captain Templeton brought you wine, didn't he?"

"For many years, yes." Vreva sighed as if pained by the memory. She had known this line of questioning would come, just not so soon. If Zarina was trying to put her at ease, this was a strange way to do it. Perhaps the quick shifts were meant to rattle incautious answers out of her.

"You seemed distraught when we met aboard Bloody Scourge." Zarina strolled to the other end of the sideboard and turned back to face her. "His betrayal must have struck you hard."

"You're very astute, Zarina. I was distraught." Vreva poured wine into a glass, gazed into its crimson depths for a moment, then looked straight into the inquisitor's piercing golden eyes. "I'm a devotee of Calistria, as you no doubt deduced from the carvings on my apartment door. As such, I believe that carnal pleasure is a sacrament, a way of paying homage to my goddess. By seeking it out and sharing it with others, I sing her praises. When someone uses my devotion against me, I feel ...defiled."

All of this was, of course, the truth. She just hoped that the inquisitor wasn't as familiar with Calistria's other two aspects, trickery and revenge, which she also embraced.

"Fieson used me! He visited me whenever he was in port, lavished me with presents, even killed a man in defense of my honor. All of that was a lie." All true as well; there was no deceit in it for the inquisitor to detect.

"I understand completely how you feel—as if you failed your goddess by allowing an infidel to take advantage of you." The sudden ferocity of Zarina's tone surprised Vreva. "I'm here to bring justice to those betrayed by Fieson Templeton!"

Zarina took one long stride, her bearing suddenly aggressive. Vreva suppressed the urge to step back, not wanting to seem shaken by the inquisitor's proximity. Before she could form a reply, Zarina continued, her tone as hard as steel.

"I worship Abadar with all my heart and soul. He's given us laws to keep us civilized, and His laws must be obeyed! I don't care for slavery personally, and neither does Abadar, for that matter, but it's legal commerce, and is therefore protected by the law. Fieson Templeton collaborated with those who would interfere with that trade. I'll do everything in my power to apprehend those who make a mockery of the law."

Vreva could have purred. She had established a bond between them—each a devotee to her chosen deity—the first step toward trust. Assuming a mien of fervent agreement, she said, "I'll help you in any way I can, Zarina." Which, of course, is not at all. "Would you like to discuss my client list before dinner?"

Zarina nodded, looking abashed at her outburst. "Yes, please. Business before pleasure. My work doesn't always lend itself to pleasant dinner conversation."

"Of course. If you would have a seat on the divan, I'll get my ledger." Vreva gazed longingly at the glass of wine she abandoned on the sideboard. This was going to be a challenging evening.

Two hours later, Vreva was exhausted and famished. Her throat was parched from talking, and her nerves ragged from maintaining a semblance of casual cooperation. She'd plied Zarina with details—social, sexual, religious, and economic—that any courtesan might know about her clients, omitting the particulars obtained through the use of drugs or spells that no slaver in her right mind would have disclosed, making sure that every word was at least veiled in truth. Vreva was so accustomed to outright lying that telling so many half-truths was a struggle.

Finally, Zarina rolled up the long scroll she'd used to take notes and sighed. "Red truly is your color, Vreva. Your profession requires great inner strength, dealing with such people as you do." The inquisitor's face grew pensive as she slid the scroll and box of writing implements into her tiny and evidently magically voluminous handbag.

Vreva shrugged. "In the veneration of Calistria, much can be endured."

"I understand. Some facets of my job are ...unpleasant. I don't like using ...physical discomfort to acquire information. It often yields erroneous results. People will tell you anything to make the pain stop. But some are just so stubborn! If they would only give me the information I need, I wouldn't have to resort to ...extremes."

Vreva gazed at the woman, unsure what to think or how to continue a conversation that had strayed onto a very awkward subject.

*Remind her she doesn't like torture if she finds out who you work for.*

"Saffron, be nice and stop that awful howling." She caressed him, thankful for the distraction, but uncomfortable with the image his comment created in her mind. "I'm sorry, Zarina, but he's sometimes impatient when his dinner is late."

"Yes, it is late. We should eat."

Vreva rose, walked to the heavy gold bell cord by the door, and pulled it to summon their meal. Strolling now to the sideboard, she reached for the wineglasses, her hand hovering as she asked, "Would you prefer red wine or white?"

"Actually, I have no taste for wine, but ..." Zarina joined Vreva and nodded toward a crystal decanter full of amber liquid. "If that's single malt whiskey, I'd have a dram."

"That's spiced rum, I'm afraid, but I do have something you might like." Vreva opened a cupboard beneath the sideboard and withdrew a bottle. "This is a single malt from Kalsgard. A gift from an admirer. I'm not partial to whiskey, but it's said to be excellent."

"I'd love to try some. So much talking makes one thirsty."

"That it does."

With the poise and grace of a courtesan, Vreva cracked the wax seal on the cork and twisted it free with a resonant pop. As the amber liquor flowed into a crystal tumbler with a soft "tuc, tuc, tuc," she caught a whiff of its smoky aroma.

"Water?" She reached for the crystal pitcher.

"Neat, please."

"I think we have much in common in our devotion to our deities, Zarina." She handed the tumbler to Zarina, and lifted her wine in toast. "May we serve them well."

"To that, I'll drink." The two glasses touched with a musical note, and they both sipped.

"Do you like it?" Vreva asked.

Zarina swallowed and drew in a slow breath. "Yes. Very much. Thank you."

"I'm pleased that you do." She gestured to the balcony. "Shall we take a little air while we wait for dinner?"

"Certainly." Zarina followed her onto the balcony.

*No spells, but she looks at you the way I look at the lizards that sun themselves on the balustrade.*

Saffron's information made Vreva's back itch, but there was little she could do but remain vigilant. They chatted amiably for a time, discussing Okeno, the torrid temperatures of the tropics—to which Zarina was still becoming acclimated—and the culture of Katapesh. Surprisingly, there were no more questions about Vreva's associations, friends, or clients.

A knock sounded at the door, and Saffron promptly ran to it. He meowed loudly, *Dinner's here!* and turned a quick circle.

Vreva laughed, and caught Zarina's quizzical expression. "You'll have to excuse Saffron. He knows that dinner's arrived. I'm afraid he's not very patient."

*How can anyone have patience when there's food?* Saffron yowled. *Open the door!*

Zarina laughed, rich and unexpectedly full. "He's male. They only ever have one of two things on their minds, don't they?"

Vreva joined in her mirth, astonished at the suggestive witticism. In yet one more way, Zarina was not what she'd expected. Vreva shooed Saffron away and opened the door to admit several of the inn's slaves. Two bore huge trays heavy with covered dishes. Two more swiftly transferred the dishes to the table. In less than a minute, they were gone. Vreva closed the door and waved her guest toward the dining table.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I had the chef prepare several of his best dishes." One by one, she lifted the covers and put them aside, and the varied aromas rose in a heavenly bouquet. "Fillet of beef. Reefclaw in butter. Potatoes roasted with garlic. Calopus tenderloin medallions in wine sauce. Vegetables and mushrooms sautéed in meat juices. Bourbon-glazed pheasant. And, behold!" She removed the last cover with a flourish. "Iced oysters on the half-shell. I hope you see something you like."

Zarina surveyed the feast with wide eyes. "I see many things I like—never so many at one time before. I'm not used to such luxurious fare."

"Shall we eat?" Vreva lit the candles on the table, and instinctively slipped into her roll of hostess, asking Zarina what she preferred, and serving.

"So, Vreva, you're Chelish?"

Vreva braced herself for another round of conversational cat and mouse. "Yes. Hence, my love of Chelish wines." She raised her glass and took a sip.

"And why come to Okeno?"

Vreva took a bite of rare steak and chewed as she prepared her answer. No lies. "I had a falling-out with my parents. We didn't see eye to eye on many issues and, being young and ...headstrong, I rebelled by leaving their home and my country. I discovered my true calling in devotion to Calistria, and settled here in Okeno."

"Ah, that's sad. You should never lose the comfort of family."

Then, much to Vreva's amazement, Zarina began chatting about her own family—parents, three brothers and two sisters, myriad cousins, aunts and uncles—and the beauty of the forests and mountains of Varisia with real longing in her voice. Vreva expected more probing questions about her own life, but they never came. True to her word, Zarina did not discuss business during dinner. Vreva analyzed every word the inquisitor uttered, but could detect no more than well-mannered conversation. Actually, it was more than just well mannered, it was interesting. She found herself laughing aloud at Zarina's tales of her youthful exploits with her older brothers.

*Careful!* Saffron yowled from beside her chair about halfway through the meal. *You're dropping your guard!*

"Oh hush, Saffron." She cut a tiny wedge of steak and held it down for him. "He's such a moocher sometimes." She mentally thanked him for the reminder. This was the woman who had tortured Fieson. Vreva could not afford to relax her vigilance around Zarina Capoli.

Half an hour later, however, Vreva considered the woman across the table in a new light. Zarina was laughing at an anecdote Vreva had just recounted, nothing but a pleasant dinner companion. Is she just acting? The meal had already lasted longer than she had expected. Why is she dragging this out? Is she hoping that I'll drink too much and let slip some bit of information to implicate myself or someone else?

"Ah, Vreva." Zarina wiped mirthful tears from her eyes. "You don't know how refreshing it is to have a normal conversation with someone. So many people see only the inquisitor, not the person. Unlike yours, my calling is a lonely one."

"A beautiful woman like you can't be too lonely. Surely, you have lovers ..."

Zarina blushed, hesitated a moment, then replied, "One only. We met while I was studying in Abadar's seminary in Magnimar. She ...didn't approve of my choice to become an inquisitor, and our association ended poorly." She sipped her whiskey, a fleeting, painful smile flashing across her lips. "I left right after taking my vows, and she didn't even come to say goodbye."

Yet another piece of information for the profile.

"I understand." Vreva heaved an empathetic sigh. "There were no goodbyes when I left home, either." After a long, careful pause, Vreva finished her wine and rose. "Can I freshen your glass?"

"Please." With another fleeting smile, Zarina emptied and handed over the crystal tumbler. "I didn't mean to spoil the conversation."

"Nonsense! You didn't spoil anything." Vreva took their glasses to the sideboard to refill, smiling inwardly. She trusts me! The courtesan had been reading people for too long not to see the truth. Her strategy to be open and helpful was working. Now all she had to do was get the inquisitor to leave.

*She's watching you walk, Vreva! I mean really watching!*

Vreva picked up the whiskey bottle and poured slowly, broadcasting her confusion. Saffron yowled impatiently again.

*She's looking at your ass right now! I swear to Calistria!*

"Saffron, what a noise!" Turning, she caught a glimpse of Zarina staring at her with alarming intensity.

The inquisitor looked away, fixing her eyes on her plate. "He certainly is insistent." She cut a tiny wedge of meat and picked it up with her fingers. "May I?"

"Of course." Vreva sent an empathic message of curiosity to Saffron. Was he sure?

After snatching the meat, Saffron meowed, *She looked at you like she's still hungry, but I don't think she wants more potatoes.*

Oh, for the love of Calistria.

A dangerous plan began to form in Vreva's mind, and her hand moved almost of its own volition. Opening the secret drawer in the sideboard, she plucked a tiny vial from her hidden stash, the same toadstool toxin she used on Werreg. The clear liquid vanished in the glass of strong whiskey. She had to be absolutely sure before she pushed her plan beyond the tipping point. The toxin would ease Zarina's inhibitions, and might just bring the truth to light.

Turning, she smiled at her guest and sauntered back to the table, moving with all the grace and sensuality that years of training had instilled in her, but without being overt. Careful ...careful ....

*Vreva? What are you doing?*

She ignored Saffron's question. She knew exactly what she was doing. If Zarina found her attractive, Vreva could use that, and perhaps even ply her for information. What had she found out from Fieson? What did the slavers know about Andoran? It was all there for the taking. As she approached the inquisitor, she passed the crystal tumbler under her nose, inhaled deeply, then sighed.

"I must admit that I find the aroma ...invigorating. Do you mind if I have a tiny taste?"

"Not at all." Zarina paused, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth.

Vreva took the smallest of sips, not enough to imbibe an appreciable amount of the toxin, but enough that the taste of the strong liquor spread through her mouth like liquid fire. She swallowed and drew a sharp breath. Setting down her wineglass, she fanned her mouth daintily. "Oh, my! That's ...something!"

"It's an acquired taste, I think," Zarina said with a smile.

Vreva passed the drink to Zarina, making sure their fingers brushed lightly as the glass changed hands. "I'm glad I'm able to provide something to your taste."

Zarina sipped the whiskey and put her glass down a little too hard. She looked down at her plate again, a blush rising up her neck. "There's a lot here to my taste. My compliments. It's delicious."

Is that shyness or reticence? Vreva took her seat. Or something worse, like duty?

"Alas, I can't take any credit. Quopek has a master chef in his employ. The cuisine is divine, but it's a sin what it does to my figure." She smoothed her dress against her torso, noting her guest's furtive glance. "Ah, but you still haven't even tried everything. I highly recommend the reefclaw."

Zarina helped herself to a piece of reefclaw. Cutting off a bite, she dipped it in the melted butter and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she blissfully chewed. She swallowed, then chased it with another sip of whiskey. "The flavor brings back memories of home. Reefclaw's a favorite Varisian dish for celebrations."

A seduction, one of Vreva's trainers had taught her, should be like the waves on the shore, advancing and retreating until, finally, they gently wet the dune. Too much too soon, and the dune is washed away.

"I must say, Zarina, you're not what I expected from an inquisitor."

"Oh?" She ate another bite of reefclaw, one dark eyebrow arching as she chewed. "How so?"

"You seem ...too full of life to be devoted to such a strict indenture."

"Abadar's calling isn't for the weak, I'll grant you that, but I could say the same about you, no?"

"The life of a courtesan is hardly fraught with hardship!" Vreva laughed, sweeping her hand to indicate the apartment. "I'm not exactly suffering here."

"You live in luxury, true, but the people you ..." Zarina blushed and sipped her whiskey to cover the lapse. "Your clients. Do you never feel like one of their slaves? Forced into serving them?"

"Never." Vreva speared a medallion of calopus, perhaps with too much vehemence, and put it on her plate. As she diced it into small bites, she said, "I choose my clients, Zarina. And I deny more than half of those who send requests."

"But some of them, you must admit, aren't very attractive." Her brow arched. Perhaps it was the flickering candlelight, but Vreva thought that the inquisitor's pupils were dilated. The toxin was taking effect. It was time for another gentle push.

"Beauty, my dear, is only skin deep. Desire, however, runs deeper." Vreva ate a bite of the lusciously marinated meat and chased it with a sip of wine, savoring the flavors. "That's what I look for in a client. That's what truly pays homage to Calistria. Deep, carnal desire ..." Vreva shivered and smiled her most sultry smile. "Some pray to their gods. I pay homage by igniting people's desires. I feel their fulfillment, and through them, praise Calistria."

Zarina stared at her for a moment. Her mouth opened, then closed again, and she reached for her whiskey glass. She halved its remaining volume in a single swallow.

Yes ...One tiny step closer, my dear ...

*Careful, Vreva! She's an inquisitor!*

Vreva ignored Saffron. She was on familiar ground here. All she required was interest from her quarry, and Zarina's interest was clear. Cutting a bite of pheasant, Vreva dredged it through the bourbon glaze, then leaned across the table and held out her fork. "Have you tried this yet? It's absolutely decadent."

"No, but ..." A brief war raged behind those sharp golden eyes, then Zarina leaned forward, opened her mouth, and took the bite of pheasant. "You're right. It's delicious." She looked down, took up her glass and downed her remaining whiskey.

Vreva suppressed a smile of amusement at the conflict between duty and desire in Zarina's eyes—Green dress be damned. Try to keep your self-control, my stalwart servant of Abadar—and moved in for the final attack. She knew she was right. Years of seducing slavers, nobles, merchants, and even priests told her so, and once she broke through that shield of duty, that armor that no arrow or blade could pierce, she would hold the inquisitor in the palm of her hand.

"I think it's important to try a little of everything, don't you?" Vreva plucked an oyster from its bed of ice. With long-practiced motions, she dashed two different sauces over the exposed mollusk, then tilted it into her mouth.

Zarina swallowed hard, and looked dubious. "I've never eaten raw shellfish."

"Here. I'll help you." Vreva selected an oyster and seasoned it with two quick dashes, then stood and rounded the table.

*Vreva! What are you going to—*

"Hush, Saffron! This is not for you."

Mixed emotions crossed Zarina's face as she watched Vreva approach. She glanced uncertainly at the morsel in Vreva's hand. "I don't think I can eat a raw oyster, Vreva. Really."

"The flavor truly is wonderful. Are you sure you won't try?"

"The flavor may be wonderful, but the texture ..."

Vreva nodded knowingly. "You don't have to eat one to experience the flavor, you know."

"I don't?"

"No." Vreva tossed back the oyster, chewed, swallowed, and, before the flavor waned from her mouth, bent down and gave the inquisitor her very ...best ...kiss.

Zarina tensed, her entire body stiffening in shock. A deep groan reverberated from her throat, and then her lips responded, her hands reaching up to grasp Vreva's hair, clutching her close.

Oh, sweet Calistria ...yes ...When their lips parted, Vreva smiled at the inquisitor. "So, how did you like your first oyster?"

"What oyster?"

Zarina stood so quickly that her chair fell over backward, catching Vreva off guard. At the look in the inquisitor's eyes, fear raced up her spine, but she forced it down. I'm right about this. I know I am! Vreva licked her lips, and raised a hand to caress the woman's cheek.

"Would you like another?"

Strong hands gripped Vreva's shoulders, and again fear thrilled along her nerves. The inquisitor's eyes stared wide and intense, and her breath came short and hard. Muscles writhed along Zarina's jaw and the grip hardened to the point of pain. She muttered something in Varisian—a prayer or a curse, Vreva couldn't tell.

Vreva trailed her fingers lightly down the folds of Zarina's gown. "So, green is for wisdom and self-control?"

"It ...doesn't seem to be working." The inquisitor's voice trembled.

"How can I help?"

"Vreva, I ...I can't. You're ..."

"I'm just a woman, Zarina." Her fingertips brushed across Zarina's stomach, felt the muscles tense beneath the fabric. "And we're not breaking any laws. I promise."

"But ..." She blinked, and confusion clouded her eyes. Her will was failing, and she knew it.

"I won't force you," Vreva said as she ran her nails up the woman's back, feeling Zarina's shudder of pleasure, "but it would be wonderful."

Duty and desire warred for a moment longer behind those golden eyes, until finally, desire won.

∗ ∗ ∗

The star-studded heavens over the Katapeshi plains stole Celeste's breath away. What new cosmic wonders will unfold before my eyes at the Observatory? Her anticipation grew with every passing mile. According to her calculations, they would be there by midmorning.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" The words sounded rasped, as if flowing from a throat long deprived of water.

Celeste looked over at Torius with a pang of sympathy. His face glistened with sweat, even in the chill of the desert night. His hands clenched the horn of his saddle not to keep him in place, but to hide the ceaseless tremors of his withdrawals. The hardest part for her to endure was the thought that she could alleviate all his pain with a single nip of her fangs. But she wouldn't—couldn't—do that to him. The first night of their journey he had made her promise not to bite him, even if he begged her. Five more days had passed, and he hadn't asked, even though his symptoms plagued him day and night. Everyone in the expedition knew that Torius wasn't feeling well, commiserating with his tale of dining on out-of-season mangrove oysters on their last night in Katapesh.

"How are you feeling?" She kept her voice low. Dukkol was napping in the back of the wagon—the mules didn't seem to mind Celeste handling the reins with magic—and the rest of the pirates rode in a line behind.

"Better, I think, but it's hard to tell. It's either freezing out here, or I've still got the shakes." He gave her a wry grin and looked up at the star-strewn sky. "Can't complain about the view, though."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?"

"And I can't complain about Snick's contraption, either."

"Neither can I." The barrel-shaped wheels handled the soft sand and the parched grassland equally well. The mules were having a more difficult time, now that they had left the firmer track of the Obelisk Trail, but their pace was gentle. Traveling at night helped, and they'd refilled their water casks at a well near Sabkha, so the animals were still strong.

"And the food's no worse than on a long sea voyage, though I do miss Soursop's cooking."

"You sound like you're trying to talk yourself into enjoying this trip."

"I'm trying to talk myself into not feeling like warmed-over camel dung."

"Is it working?"

"No." He sighed and rubbed his eyes with a shaky hand. "Gozreh's guts, Celeste. Maybe it would be easier if I just—"

"No, Torius. It wouldn't be easier." She put as much sympathy as she could into her voice, but edged it with determination. "You're never going through this again. Not if I have to—"

A low, guttural howl tore through the peaceful night.

The caravan came to a sudden halt. They had heard plenty of jackals during the trip, but their mounts seemed to sense that this was different. Celeste felt it, too, a foul essence in the air, but she couldn't pinpoint its nature. She breathed deep, and flicked out her sensitive tongue. A heavy scent hung on the light breeze: musky and ...familiar. Her tail twitched.

"Torius?"

Blood-curdling laughter raked the air.

"Wake Dukkol!" Torius smacked his camel on the rump with his quirt and urged it up beside the restive mules. "Grogul! Trouble!"

"Where?"

As if in answer, more high-pitched laughter sounded from a different direction. A camel bawled, and Celeste heard Grogul curse the beast. Stretching her tail into the back of the wagon, Celeste thumped the snoring dwarf, ignoring his irritated exclamation.

"Can you see anything, Celeste?" Torius brandished his new scimitar, his eyes focused out into the night as his nervous camel trotted back and forth beside the mules.

Celeste reared up on her coils to increase her vantage. The moon's light cast the landscape in silver and gray, and she could see quite well, but there was little to see. Here, a flicker of motion, low and quick. There, a shadow moved among the dark scrub and cacti.

"Nothing distinct, but ..." She took another deep breath and flicked her tongue. A metallic tang in the dry desert air detonated a memory, a very bad memory. Visions flashed through her mind: chains and dark holes, leering hyena faces, a cold collar around her neck, pain ...The answer sprang to her lips. "Hyenafolk, Torius! They're—"

Hideous laughter rose on the air, and a flight of arrows whistled out of the night.

The two lead mules brayed in pain and terror, and the wagon lurched forward. Celeste coiled low to keep from falling off the seat. Dukkol had been climbing forward from the wagon's box, and she heard a crash and a curse as he fell back.

If he broke my sextant, I'll—

"Set the bloody brake!"

"Brake?" Celeste grabbed up the reins with a flick of magic and hauled back, but she couldn't pull hard enough with the spell to slow the panicked animals. "What brake?"

Her instruction in driving the team had consisted of lash to go, pull to stop, pull one side to turn. She had no idea where the brake was. In no time, the wagon was moving much faster than seemed prudent. Celeste glanced back and saw the rest of the caravan milling around behind them, trying to get their panicked camels under control as a pack of hyenas harried them, darting in to bite their long, thin legs. The pirates swung their cutlasses to no avail, being too high atop their camels to reach the beasts below. Grogul solved the problem by falling off his camel right on top of two hyenas, his axe severing one's spine with the impact. The last thing Celeste saw as the band of pirates dwindled in the distance were larger, upright hyena figures racing in to attack. Tall but hunched at the shoulders, with long furry arms and the thick-jawed heads of hyenas, hyenafolk were the scourge of the Katapeshi wilds. They were pack hunters, scavengers, and slavers, and took humanoids of all types to sell, keep for labor, or consume as food.

"The bloody brake!" Dukkol tumbled forward over the driver's seat, crossbow in one hand. Unfortunately, his foot encountered one of Celeste's coils. As he fell, he managed to grab a little post that stuck up beside the seat, which not only kept him from being crushed under the wheels, but slowed the wagon's speed to merely reckless instead of suicidal.

"Oh. That's the brake!"

"Now, haul on those reins!"

"I am, but ..." She couldn't pull hard enough with her magic. Realizing that they were already cut off from the others and getting farther away by the second, Celeste cast her transformation spell. As soon as her limbs sprouted, she grabbed a double handful of leather and pulled back as hard as she could. Okay, so hands are good for something!

Slowly, the wagon ground to a halt.

"Well, that worked." She tied off the reins and helped the dwarf up from his precarious position.

"Uh, Miss Celeste, you're ...um ..." His wide eyes were fixed slightly lower than hers, and looked more panicked than a simple attack by hyenafolk would warrant.

She looked down and realized why.

"Oh, damn!" She had forgotten about clothes. But her real concern wasn't modesty. The moonlight on her alabaster skin made her stand out like a glowing white pillar in the darkness, a perfect target.

She started to banish the spell, but deep growls followed by hysterical laughter interrupted her. Glowing eyes surrounded the wagon. Dukkol's eyes shifted away and narrowed. He fired his crossbow, and a yelp told her he'd hit something. Celeste cast searing spears of fire at an advancing figure, lighting the darkness with the spell's orange glow. The attacker fell with a startled whine, and the scent of burned fur filled the air.

"Turn the wagon around, Dukkol! We need to get back to the others!"

"Right!" He kicked the brake free and reached for the reins.

Hyenafolk charged out of the darkness wielding blades, nets, and tangling bolos.

Duenas! Celeste felt her heart leap into her throat. The Duenas, a pack of hyenafolk that hunted the Katapeshi plains and deserts for slaves, were the very reason she'd never seen the Observatory in the first place. Years ago, when Celeste first came to this region in search of a means to explore the cosmos, and before she knew all the dangers of slavers, or how valuable a lunar naga would be on the slave market, they had captured her. She'd killed more than a dozen before their nets dragged her down and they knocked her unconscious. She woke in chains, underground, away from the night sky and the stars. Celeste would have died in their clutches if a young and reckless pirate hadn't rescued her, and she wasn't about to become their captive again.

As Dukkol lashed the reins and bellowed at the mules, one of their assailants reached for the forward traces, its slavering jaws snapping. Celeste sent an unerring flight of magical energy racing at it, blasting four neat holes in its torso. Blood wet the sand, and it fell with an astonished yip.

The mules lurched forward, and Celeste sent more energy motes into the night, catching several attackers at once, more to keep them at bay than to kill. Scratching came from the roof of the wagon, and before Celeste could turn, clawed hands grasped her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides.

Fetid breath warmed her neck as the creature growled, "You'll fetch a fine price on the block!"

Celeste banished her transformation spell and writhed in the Duena's grasp, twisting around to bury her fangs in its neck. Flexing her powerful body, she lifted the thrashing creature completely off its feet and flung it off the wagon. She hissed, spitting venom and blood as she whirled back.

"Keep 'em off the wagon!" Dukkol planted a foot in one hyenalike face while desperately lashing the reins. They were turned around and picking up speed, but the sight of the rest of the caravan brought Celeste's heart into her throat.

Two camels were down, their riders stretched out on the sand. The rest of the pirates were on foot, arrayed in a rough circle to protect the remaining animals. Grogul fought one-handed, a broken spear jutting through his left shoulder, but a litter of corpses attested to his continued effectiveness. Torius stood with his blade in hand, his stance awkward, a wide, red stain marring his kaftan.

Several Duenas advanced with nets held high as others attempted to herd the pirates together by stabbing at them with spears. Then a new foe arrived. Obviously the pack leader, it rode an immense, leather-barded hyena with jaws wide enough to engulf a human's head. For Celeste, this was a welcome sight. She knew that the Duenas wouldn't relent as long as they had numerical superiority and a good chance of victory. But if their leader fell ...

"Run him down!"

Dukkol lashed the reins, and the barrel-like wheels threw rooster tails of sand as their speed increased. Celeste slithered atop the wagon and prepared her newest, and as yet untried, spell. She'd first seen it used by a wizard when they battled an efreeti in Sothis, and had been impressed by its effectiveness. When Stargazer arrived back in Katapesh, she had sought out a wizard to sell her the proper scroll. The spell was simple, really. Unlike her magical darts or transformations, this was a powerful force of nature.

Focusing on the pack leader, Celeste let her magic flow. Lightning split the night in a blinding flash, arcing from Celeste to the monstrous hyena. The bolt struck the mount squarely upon its shoulder, blasting a huge hunk of burning armor and charred meat clear through the beast. It fell, throwing the howling pack leader to the ground.

For a shocked instant, melee ceased, and all eyes turned toward the charging wagon. Then Torius's voice rose above the thunder-induced ringing in her ears.

"Stargazers!"

The pirates cheered a raucous cry, but the Duenas' leader was not dead. The creature rose from the carnage-littered sand, its armor and fur smoldering from the lighting that had killed its mount. Snarling laughter rose from its throat as it raised a huge hooked axe.

"Hey! Dog breath!" Dukkol stood upon the jouncing wagon seat with the poise of someone accustomed to walking a fore-topsail yard in a gale, the reins in one hand, his crossbow in the other. He leveled the weapon and fired while steering the terrified mule team straight at his target. The bolt glanced off the pack leader's iron pauldron, but got its attention. Its eyes widened at the sight of the wagon bearing down.

Celeste didn't give the beast the opportunity to show more than an instant of fear. She cast her lightning again, catching it squarely in the chest. Cooked meat sprayed the sand. The wagon churned over the charred corpse, but even as Dukkol hauled on the reins to stop the mules, Celeste sent another bolt of lightning into the retreating ranks of Duenas.

As the echo of thunder faded, and the stench of burned fur wafted away on the desert wind, the cheers of the Stargazers rose up. Celeste slithered down and through the carnage to Torius. He lowered his scimitar, his shaky stance belying his triumphant grin.

"Nice spell."

"You're hurt!" She peered at the blood on his kaftan, looking for the wound. "Dukkol! Bring a potion!"

"He's hurt?" Grogul sat down with a grunt, grimacing at the broken spear shaft that transfixed his shoulder.

"Actually, Celeste, this isn't mine." Torius wiped his bloody sword on his already soiled kaftan and sheathed it. "You were right about this scimitar. It makes things bleed. A lot."

"Oh! Well, then ..." She nodded toward Grogul when the dwarf arrived with a potion bottle in his hand.

Dukkol handed the bottle to the bosun, then gripped the bloody head of the spear. "Ready, mate?"

Grogul pulled the cork with his teeth and nodded, quaffing the potion as the dwarf wrenched the shaft free. He tossed the bottle aside and peered down at the closing hole in his shoulder. "Damn it! Another kaftan ruined!"

"Try getting out of the way next time," Torius suggested. "See to the others, Dukkol. I think Lonnie's just tangled up in that net, but Tory took a spear in his leg when he went down."

"Right!" The dwarf trotted off to see to the wounded.

"Well, that livened up the evening." Celeste looked around at the litter of corpses before turning back to Torius. "You certainly know how to show a lady a good time on vacation."

"Anything for you, my dear." Torius helped Grogul to his feet. Neither of them looked very steady.

"At least we know what to name Snick's contraption now," Grogul grunted.

"What's that?"

The bosun pointed to the charred and mangled hyena parts caught between the staves of the wagon's wheels. "The Dog Roller."

Chapter Six

Disturbing Messages

Vreva slipped from between the sheets and reached for her robe. Easing out of the bedroom, she cast a glance back at the sleeping form of Zarina Capoli and smiled. Who could have guessed that the cool-mannered inquisitor would be so hot-blooded when her passions were aroused? As she tiptoed into the front room, Saffron woke from his favorite spot on the arm of the divan. She got a lazy feeling of fullness from him. He'd obviously been nibbling the leftovers of their dinner.

"You're going to get fat eating so much," she whispered.

*And you're going to get killed seducing an inquisitor.*

"I saw an opening and I took it." Secretly, Vreva wondered if higher forces might not be at work here. Vreva could imagine Calistria laughing in delight. What greater trick than a courtesan of Calistria seducing an inquisitor of Abadar?

*She's hunting you, Vreva. You should be more careful.* He hopped down to rub against her leg, purring when she picked him up and nuzzled him.

"I know who she's hunting, and I am being careful, my love. But I had to ..."

*Oh, all right.* He bumped her chin with his forehead. *So, how are you going to go about this?*

"She's ...very intense, and lonely. That's good. I can work on her emotions, be her best friend as well as her lover. She'll be head over heels for me by the time I'm done. The closer I get, the more I'll be above suspicion. I can get more information from her about anti-abolitionist activities than I can from any slaver in Okeno."

*Speaking of head over heels, I think you broke the divan.*

"Oh, hush!" Vreva lowered her familiar to the carpet. "I've got to send a message to Marshal Trellis. Go watch her while I cast a spell."

*With an inquisitor sleeping in the next room? Are you crazy?*

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be in this business. Go!"

*All right.* He trotted to the bedroom door.

Vreva moved to a shelf that held a row of decorative vases. Running her fingertip across the ornate molding, she found the right point and pressed it. A drawer slid out, and she removed a scroll. She kept several of these for emergencies. She glanced toward the bedroom. Should the inquisitor wake, Saffron would alert her before Zarina could even get out of bed. Still, it was risky, but she dared not wait any longer.

Reclining on the divan, she unrolled the scroll and read the incantation, then tucked the blank parchment behind a cushion. "Marshal Helena Trellis," she whispered as she closed her eyes. Immediately, Vreva slipped into a dream that was not hers.

"Marshal Trellis, I must report dire news. Fieson Templeton is dead. He was captured by Okeno slavers west of the Isle of Kortos. I don't know how, but they took him alive. The Pactmasters sent an inquisitor to interrogate him, and he—"

Vreva stumbled over her words as a vision of the burning ship threatened to overwhelm her. Shoving all emotion aside, she continued.

"He was executed yesterday."

She gave Trellis a succinct report, including everything from her return to Okeno, to her seduction of Zarina Capoli. Lastly, she told Trellis of her urgent need for a new intermediary. Without someone to bring her supplies and take her reports, she was useless.

Vreva opened her eyes, heavy with fatigue. She heaved herself up from the divan, went to the sideboard, and poured herself a measure of spiced rum. The sweet liquor soothed her nerves. Vreva considered the previous evening. Such a surprise ...After their first feverish lovemaking atop the divan, Vreva had plied Zarina with tidbits of their dinner, feeding her and encouraging her to wash down each bite with a sip of whiskey. The gracious attention put the inquisitor at ease, staving off a bout of conscience and a hasty departure. Eventually they had moved into the bedroom.

With the trained memory of a spy, she recalled each kiss, each caress, and shivered in remembrance. The recollection brought her up short. Something had happened there that she hadn't expected. For a few moments, Vreva had lost herself in their lovemaking, forgotten who and what she was, and indulged herself in pure pleasure. She had truly paid homage to Calistria, body and soul.

If Zarina conducts her investigations with the same intensity with which she makes love ...The thought brought a flood of conscience. This woman was the enemy. She had tortured Fieson, and sought to destroy the cause to which Vreva had devoted her life.

What the hell are you doing, Vreva? Fieson's voice seemed to berate her from the grave.

I'm doing my job! Vreva clamped down on her feelings. She had not seduced Zarina for her own gratification, and she would not begrudge herself a bit of pleasure in a life so bereft of it. Besides, she couldn't make herself hate the woman. Zarina didn't care for the institution of slavery, and didn't enjoy inflicting pain in her interrogations. She was simply following her faith, doing Abadar's work in upholding the laws of Katapesh. Vreva couldn't fault her for that.

The courtesan finished her rum, and started back toward the bedroom. Saffron trotted out before she reached the doorway, and rubbed against her leg.

*She never moved. How'd the message go?*

"Fine. Now I just need to wait for my new intermediary to show up."

*All right. See you in the morning.*

"Rest well, my love." Vreva approached the bed as quiet as a ghost, but apparently not quietly enough. She froze as Zarina stirred and rolled over.

"Couldn't you sleep?" The inquisitor's voice was thick, but fully awake.

Panic surged through Vreva. Her chat with Saffron had been in their private language, so Zarina wouldn't have understood, but she hadn't kept her voice as low as she usually did when they were in public, and it would have sounded strange.

Vreva shrugged out of her robe, letting the glow of faint moonlight bathe her body, her hand draped casually across the sculpted headboard. Watching Zarina's eyes to make sure her distraction had worked, she slid the hidden needle from its groove with her fingernail. Her secret sting, it was coated with toxin from sea urchin spines, and would kill in moments. Sliding into bed beside Zarina, she secreted the needle between her fingers, poised to plunge it into the woman's flesh should it be necessary. Killing Zarina was a last resort. Aside from the fact that she actually liked the woman, explaining a dead inquisitor would be difficult.

"Sorry. I didn't want to wake you."

"Perhaps I wanted you to wake me." Zarina pulled Vreva close, her skin warm, and kissed her. "Mmm. You taste good."

"Spiced rum." Vreva smiled. There was no guile or suspicion in those golden eyes, only sultry, sleepy desire. With a twist of her fingers, she thrust the needle deep into the edge of the feather mattress where it wouldn't be found by accident, then ran her hands through Zarina's dark hair. "Another one of my weaknesses."

Zarina gazed at Vreva, emotion clouding her eyes. "What am I going to do with you, Vreva Jhafae?"

"Anything you want, Zarina Capoli." Vreva felt the desire rise in her, mirrored so clearly in her lover's eyes. "Anything at all."

∗ ∗ ∗

"There it isss, Toriusss! There it isss!"

Torius smiled at Celeste's enthusiasm. She often hissed when angry or excited, and now her sinuous body writhed back and forth, her tail quivering in eagerness. Squinting ahead, he could just discern the quartet of pillars in the distance. They could arrive none too soon as far as he was concerned. Tired, aching from the battle, and still suffering from withdrawal symptoms, all he wanted to do was collapse in a shady tent before the heat of the day flared to infernal heights.

"Doesn't look like much." Grogul's comment earned a glare and hiss from Celeste.

Despite Celeste's response, Torius could only agree with his bosun's assessment. Though hard to miss on the flat plain, the Observatory looked simple—decrepit, even. Four crumbling pillars surrounded a low platform that could easily have fit into Stargazer's main hold. It looked nothing like the observatory at the College of Dimensional Studies in Katapesh city, with its high domed roof and enormous telescope. But Celeste had insisted that the mystical properties of the Observatory far surpassed anything that used mere optics.

As they neared their destination, what he had thought to be an escarpment of dark stone beyond the Observatory resolved into a number of tents. Most were small, but a few were large and elaborate, and among the tents walked numerous people.

"I didn't think we'd have so much company."

A hiss of disappointment answered him, and he turned to Celeste, who now peered out from between the canvas flaps behind the driver's seat, her expression now anxious.

"Nor did I, though the Observatory attracts both surveyors of the heavens and worshipers of Desna. I had hoped to be free to use it as I pleased ..."

"Don't worry, Celeste. We'll figure out some way for you to get your observations in."

"Some of those people are armed, Captain." Grogul's eyes scanned the scene as if he were planning an attack.

"I'd be worried if they weren't, all things considered. As long as they're friendly, I don't mind sharing, and the more the merrier, if those Duenas show up." Torius turned in his saddle and regarded their tiny caravan. They were tired, bloodied, and bad-tempered, but they were all in one piece. They'd lost only one camel in the fight with the hyenafolk. "Grogul, pick out a spot to set up camp, preferably upwind of the others."

"Aye, sir." He nodded toward the camp. "Looks like a welcoming committee's comin' out to greet us."

"A committee of one." Torius examined the lone man walking toward them. He wore a white kaftan, the scarf tucked up to conceal his face, but didn't appear to be armed. "Let's hope it is a welcome."

Giving the signal to stop, Torius tapped his quirt to get his camel to kneel so he didn't have to jump down. Falling flat on his face as he dismounted would not give their caller a favorable impression, and he didn't trust his legs to support him after a leap. By the time Torius was down, the man was only a few strides away.

"Welcome to the Observatory." The man extended both hands, palms up, in a non-threatening gesture, then raised one to lower his scarf. "I am Yabada Ben Hashi, senior servant and emissary for Lord Astrus." He bowed low, touching his lips and forehead with a flourish.

"I'm Captain Torius Vin of the merchant vessel Stargazer." He mirrored the man's bow. "These are my crew." He turned and started when he saw Windy Kate sitting next to Dukkol, since he knew Windy had remained aboard ship. This Windy Kate, however, was more richly dressed than the original. I wish she'd pick someone I don't know as her disguise! "My companion, Celeste, is my navigator and an astronomer. We're here to use the Observatory, but we had no idea it would be so ...populated."

"You are a sea captain?" An odd smile graced the man's lips. In fact, his entire manner was odd. His lips twitched and his eyes darted about, never staying focused on one thing for more than a second or two. "You are far from the sea."

"Well, until someone moves the Observatory closer to the ocean, we have no choice." The man didn't respond to Torius's bit of humor, so the captain nodded toward the camp. "Are all these people with you?"

"Oh, no!" He laughed a tittering little trill. "No, no. Our group is large, but only perhaps half of all you see here. Lord Astrus travels in comfort and with a complete retinue of servants and guards. Since there are so many, we've ...organized the Observatory schedule so all may share peacefully."

"I see." Torius resented the significant look Hashi cast at the Stargazers when he said the word ‘peacefully.' Hashi made him nervous. His speech was too quick and precise, as if he recited his welcome by rote. He giggled unexpectedly, and his hands never stopped moving, even when he clasped them together. He didn't bother keeping the sarcasm from his voice when he said, "Well, since Lord Astrus is organizing the place, he might like to know that we had a run in with a pack of hyenafolk last night. We settled it as peacefully as we could."

"Hyenafolk?" Hashi looked suddenly worried, his mien shifting from mirth to fear in a flash. "Oh, Lord Astrus will be very interested, I'm sure. He will want to meet with you this evening. You'll forgive us, but between the heat of the day and our nighttime observations, we tend to be nocturnal."

"That's fine. We need some rest anyway. Thank you." Torius said the last grudgingly, feeling as if he shouldn't alienate anyone on the first day.

"My pleasure, Captain Vin!" Hashi grinned, suddenly full of glee once again. "Feel free to make your camp anywhere. We have dug latrines downwind, but I'm afraid there is no well."

"We have our own supplies, thanks."

Hashi bowed, turned, and hurried back toward the camp, which now seemed deserted as people retreated from the heat of the day.

"Some welcome." Dukkol retrieved his crossbow from behind the wagon seat, slipped out the bolt, and eased the tension on the string.

"He seemed a little ..." Torius couldn't think of the right word.

"Twitchy?" Celeste nodded. "Yes, he was very twitchy."

"Pesh addict, maybe," Grogul offered. "I've seen 'em a lot worse."

"Well, no matter. Pick your spot, Grogul, and set up the tents. We all need some sleep."

"Aye, sir!" The bosun turned to shout orders, and Torius cringed.

"Quietly, Grogul. They're nocturnal, remember? People might be sleeping."

"Oh. Right."

"And let's keep an armed watch, four-hour shifts." He gestured at the distant Hashi's cloaked back. "I didn't like the look of him."

"Can't argue with that, sir."

∗ ∗ ∗

Even before Vreva was fully awake, the frustration of her dream, and the stern visage of Helena Trellis, furrowed her brow. The marshal's message had been startlingly straightforward and infinitely vexing.

"We can't possibly arrange a new contact for you right now. Naval resources are spread thin, and contracting a new ship, captain, and crew will take at least six months. This does not, however, mean that we don't expect you to file your usual reports, especially considering current developments. You're months behind already. You know everyone in Okeno. Recruit someone you consider to be trustworthy. Money's not a problem. In the interim, send any vital knowledge you collect to me by dream spell. Our information needs are paramount. Be wary of the inquisitor, but learn what you can."

Vreva squeezed her eyes closed, irritated beyond belief. Recruit someone from Okeno? She must be delusional!

All of the captains she knew here were either directly or indirectly tied to the slave trade. The fastest way to get killed in Okeno was to ask someone, anyone, if they'd like to combat slavery by joining the Twilight Talons.

And what about my needs? Do they expect me to just walk into the nearest shop to replenish my supplies? The stocks of toxins, drugs, and components that Fieson had delivered would not last more than a month or so, and she had only four dream-message scrolls left. Okeno was not such a large city that the purchase of such items would go unnoticed.

The arm draped across her stomach shifted, and Zarina's warm body pressed closer. Vreva glanced at the head of tousled black hair nestled against her shoulder. Especially with an inquisitor snooping around. Her lips quirked into a wry smile as she considered the old adage: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. No one could say she wasn't doing that.

Saffron interrupted her musing by hopping up on the bed and meowing, *Breakfast time!*

Vreva brought a finger to her lips to quiet his usual morning routine, but Zarina stirred.

*It's late!* Saffron walked over their legs, tail high, kneading the coverlet with his claws. *You two have slept far too long, and I'm starving!*

Zarina lifted her head and peered down at Saffron. She blinked as if dazed, then looked up at Vreva.

"Good morning." Vreva brushed the inquisitor's unruly hair away from her face, and trailed her fingers down the woman's neck. "I apologize for my cat. He thinks it's his duty to get me up with the first cock's crow."

*I absolutely refuse to apologize.*

"Oh." Zarina, still blinking as she woke, edged out of Vreva's embrace. "It's all right. I need to ...um ..."

Ah, the morning after ...Vreva remembered another old adage, this one from her first year of courtesan training: morning changes everything. She would have to put Zarina at ease without seeming to fawn or pander, maintaining the bond they had forged last night. "The wash room's through there." She pointed to a door as she slipped out of bed and donned her robe, then noticed that Zarina hadn't moved. "Would you like a robe?"

"Please." The relief in the inquisitor's eyes told Vreva that she had correctly assessed her guest's reticence. Even the most uninhibited lover might regain their modesty in the light of day.

She strolled to her clothespress and flung the doors wide. "What color do you prefer?"

Zarina gaped at the array of rainbow-hued silks. "Why so many?"

"Days of the week, my dear." She laughed, but saw Zarina's confusion. "Never ask a courtesan why she has too many pretty things." Vreva let her gaze linger on the inquisitor for just a moment, then chose a shimmering purple robe that would complement Zarina's coloring. "It gives me pleasure to wear beautiful clothes."

"I see." Zarina fingered the rich fabric as Vreva handed it over, and quirked a faint smile. She still seemed uncomfortable.

Vreva pretended not to notice, leaning in to give Zarina a quick kiss. "Freshen up and I'll see about breakfast."

"Thank you." The inquisitor's smile seemed more genuine this time.

Vreva wagged a finger at Saffron on her way out of the bedroom. "And you be good, you little monster!"

*Don't worry. I'll watch her.* He blinked and flicked his tail. *I know my job.*

Vreva closed the bedroom door and surveyed the minor wreckage of the main room. She pulled the rope beside the door to summon the inn's slaves, and set about tidying up. She shoved the skewed divan cushions back into place, rescuing their wine and whiskey glasses from under a pillow on the floor and placing them on the table with the remains of their dinner. She noted the whiskey bottle was down by a third. A hangover could account for Zarina's morning doldrums.

Well, we can fix that!

She was still collecting clothing from the floor, the chairs, and anywhere else they had been hurriedly shed, when a light knock sounded at the door. Vreva bundled the tangle of clothing away and admitted the four house slaves waiting in the hall. Two quickly cleared away the dinner dishes, one draped a fresh white linen cloth over the table, and the fourth set down the tea and coffee service he bore, arranging the silver pots and crystal bowls just so.

"Breakfast, Mistress?"

"Yes. For two." In moments they were gone.

The bedroom door opened. Zarina stood there blinking. "I heard ..."

Saffron ran out from between her legs and meowed, *All clear! Not very inquisitive for an inquisitor. No snooping.*

"One advantage of living here is the wonderful service. They're in and out like helpful little mice." Vreva strolled to the table. "Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please." Zarina rubbed her eyes. "I apologize. Mornings don't agree with me, especially after ..."

"Whiskey and wine are fine if you're frisky, but coffee and tea are far less risky." Vreva laughed and poured coffee, strong and black, into both cups. "If you're feeling ill effects from the whiskey, I know a very good cure."

"No, thank you. Coffee's fine."

"Cream and sugar?"

"Cream, please."

"There you are." Vreva lightened one cup and placed it before her guest at the table. Adding two cubes of sugar to her own, she stirred her coffee and sipped. "I ordered us breakfast. It should be up soon."

"Thank you." Zarina sipped her coffee. "Mmm, that's good."

"I'll order us a bath after breakfast. I don't feel that the day has really started until I've had a proper bath, do you?"

Zarina kept her attention focused on her coffee.

Vreva started to worry as she gauged her guest's mood. Zarina was still uncomfortable. She needed to find out why and put the inquisitor at ease, or all she had gained the night before could be lost. Knowing the inquisitor's straightforward manner, she decided on the direct approach.

"Zarina? Is something wrong? Have I displeased you in some way?"

"No! No, you've pleased me very much. I just ..." A blush reddened Zarina's cheeks. Putting down her cup, she tapped her fingers nervously on the table. "I simply don't know the formalities for ...this."

"Formalities?" Vreva cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"What do I ..." Zarina looked into her cup. "...owe you for last night?"

So that's it! Vreva heaved a mental sigh of relief.

"Oh, dear Zarina!" She put her cup down, rose, and rounded the table. She knelt, took Zarina's hand in hers, and presented her most sincere look. "You don't owe me anything."

"But, you're a courtesan." There was surprise in Zarina's voice now, not just unease. "This ...what happened last night is your business."

She said the word "business" like it was sacred. Then Vreva remembered that Abadar was not only the god of law, but that of merchants as well. The lawful and just exchange of goods or services was indeed a tenet of Zarina's faith.

"Pleasure is my business, Zarina, but last night was not." She brought the woman's hand to her lips and kissed her strong fingers. "Last night was special." The truth, she realized. It had been special.

"It was special for me, too. But I didn't know ..."

"Now you do." Rising, Vreva leaned down and kissed her. "Courtesans rarely take genuine lovers, but when we do, we take them seriously."

"I ..." Zarina blinked, blushed, and smiled. "Last night ...I feel that it healed something in me that I didn't know was broken. I feel ...different. Better. Whole again."

The admission scored a line of pain across Vreva's heart. Zarina had been healed, changed by their night together, and it had all been a lie.

Not all, she thought honestly, but the guilt was there. She couldn't make herself hate Zarina for what she was, Abadar's faithful servant, and she couldn't feel any triumph in a successful seduction. None of these roiling emotions showed on her face, however. She was Vreva Jhafae, after all.

"Good." She beamed down at her lover and gave her another quick kiss. "Now, we'll drink our coffee, have some breakfast, and enjoy a nice bath together. I do have business to conduct today, as I'm sure you do, but perhaps we can get together later to discuss my clients further? I was only able to give you the briefest overview last night."

"I'd like that. I do have more questions." The inquisitor finished her first cup of coffee and reached for the pot. "How much later?"

"How about dinner?"

"Ah ..." Mixed emotions flashed over Zarina's face, but that didn't worry Vreva. She knew how to proceed from here.

"I know a lovely little restaurant that serves the most luscious curried lamb. We can talk business without any ...distractions. Our personal relationship needn't interfere with our work."

That seemed to set Zarina's mind at ease. She poured herself more coffee and lightened it with cream. "Very good. Last night's discussion gave me food for thought."

Not too much, I hope. Vreva watched Zarina sip coffee. Her strong hands held the tiny cup gingerly, as if it might shatter in her grasp. It was the same way she had held Vreva, with deft gentleness, as if afraid she might damage her.

Those hands tortured Fieson. Never forget that ...

Vreva found it hard to reconcile the two aspects of this woman, the hard inquisitor and the gentle lover, the woman who missed her family, loved her god, and was now looking at her with a bright smile.

Vreva prayed to Calistria that she could continue to fool them both.

Chapter Seven

Observations

Celeste undulated in pleasure as she gazed through the tent's open ventilation flap. The western sky blazed a thousand shades of crimson. Desert sunsets, it seemed, vied with desert starscapes in their capacity to inspire awe.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Celeste twisted around to see Torius entering, a plate balanced in each trembling hand and a wine bottle tucked into the crook of his arm. He placed his burdens on the low table with exaggerated care.

"Yes. It's lovely." She tore herself away from the view and turned to the food. "What's for dinner?"

"Curried mystery meat on flatbread, with enough pepper sauce to kill the taste of being stored in a barrel for the better part of a year." He dropped onto a pillow, picked up his plate and sniffed dubiously, then tasted the fluorescent yellow mass. He stifled a cough, reached for the wine and twisted the cork free. "Maybe I should have brought Soursop along."

She sampled the food, savoring the strong spices. "If you'd brought Soursop, you would have had to bring Stargazer's entire galley."

"You know, I actually wondered if it would be possible to hire a wizard to fly the entire ship here." Torius filled the tin cups, and shakily held one out for her. "Talk about expensive."

"There once were whole cities that flew, you know." Celeste gripped the cup with her magic and floated it to her lips, thankful that they had been able to pack a few luxuries. Between the camels and the wagon, they had enough food for a very long stay. Water would be their limiting factor.

"I know." Torius ate another bite of the peppery dish and chased it with more wine. "It'd be a hell of a thing to have a flying corsair, wouldn't it?" His eyes took on a faraway look.

"Stick to the sea, my captain." She nudged him with her tail and grinned. "Fall overboard at sea and all you get is wet. If you're a thousand feet off the ground ..."

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that. Maybe we could figure out a way to—"

"Captain?" Grogul's usual bosun's tone and volume shivered the tent walls.

"Yes, Grogul. Come in."

The tent flap parted, and the half-orc ducked through. "That twitchy little twit Hashi's here. He says Lord Astrus will see you now."

"Tell Lord Astrus that we're eating. We'll join him in half an hour."

Celeste pursed her lips. She knew Torius was touchy, his temper probably worsened by his withdrawals, but she couldn't let him ruin their opportunity to use the Observatory. Lord Astrus had the largest group here. If Torius angered him, he might make things difficult for them.

"Torius." She nudged him with her magic. "Let's just go talk to him. We don't want trouble."

"I don't like being ordered around, Celeste. Astrus doesn't own the Observatory, and he's not my lord!"

"No, but until we meet him, we don't know what his agenda is, do we? Perhaps he is just trying to make it easier for everyone by keeping things organized and peaceful." When that didn't seem to sway him, she tried another tack. "Please, Torius. For me?"

His features softened. "You're right. We don't know anything about Lord Astrus yet." He downed his cup of wine and stood. "Tell Hashi we'll be right there, Grogul."

"Aye, sir."

Celeste slithered over to her trunk and flicked it open. "So, what do you think?"

"Transformation, I think. He may want to shake hands or something, and your illusion won't ..." He noticed her frown. "What?"

"I know that! I mean, what should I wear to meet a lord?" She began rifling through her chest.

"Probably clothes," Torius said with a laugh.

"Oh, I don't know. We might get more consideration if I show up without them." Smiling, she realized that Torius was looking at her as if she were serious. "No sense of humor!" Celeste rolled her eyes and turned back to continue rooting through the tightly packed clothing. Simple dresses and kaftans flew through the air. She had nothing pretty like her gowns back on the ship, only sturdy outfits suited for travel.

"That's another thing. This ‘Lord' business irritates me." Torius was pacing now, never a good sign.

A gleaming white kaftan with gold trim caught her eye. She knew it shouldn't matter what any human besides Torius thought of how she dressed, but she was eager to make a good first impression. Who knew what she might learn from someone familiar with the Observatory? She floated the kaftan into Torius's arms. "Hold this, please."

Celeste closed her eyes and concentrated on the form she wanted to take, then cast her spell.

"Celeste!" Torius thrust the kaftan at her, averting his eyes.

"What? You've seen me nude many times!"

"You look like Windy Kate, that's what! And I really don't want to know what she looks like naked!"

"You know we decided that my own features were too distinctive and might attract undue attention. Besides, it's just her head on my body." Celeste pulled the kaftan over her head, and tied the sash around her waist. She still didn't understand waists, why women's torsos were constricted more than men's. There were many things she didn't understand, like why she felt so strange sometimes when in human form. She enjoyed wearing pretty clothes, fixing her hair in attractive braids and coifs, even wearing makeup for special occasions. Oddly, she didn't feel that way when she cast an illusion to mask her nature. She sometimes wondered if she was a different person when in human form.

Immediately, she chided herself for the notion. Skin or scales, I'm still Celeste.

Hashi met them at the edge of their camp, and they followed him to meet Lord Astrus. The sunset had already faded to deep indigo shot through with faint streaks of crimson. Night was fast approaching. Celeste shivered in anticipation as they approached the Observatory. A figure stood beside one of the crumbling pillars, looking rather like one of them: slim, tall, and dark, clad in a black kaftan. His face was angular and pale, his eyes framed by the wrinkles of middle age.

"Lord Astrus." Hashi stopped about three strides from his master, bowed, and waved an arm toward them. "Captain Torius Vin and his navigator, Celeste."

"Captain Vin." Astrus nodded. "Miss Celeste, you're both welcome." His voice was deep but smooth.

"We've come a long way." Torius's tone was civil, at least, but he wasn't being particularly polite.

"We were surprised to find so many others here, Lord Astrus." Celeste suppressed her eagerness to examine the Observatory. After so long anticipating this moment, to be delayed by pleasantries was maddening, but she couldn't be rude. "The Observatory seems to have drawn quite a number of astronomers."

"We are of many disciplines." Astrus smiled, but his expression remained cool. "While I'm an astronomer, two of the visitors are clerics of Desna. I'm sure you know that the Observatory is actually a shrine of the Goddess of Stars. They wish to seek Her message, as well as make astronomical observations. The other is a deluded Pathfinder who thinks the Observatory could be used to travel to the stars."

Celeste knew about Pathfinders, though she'd never met one. Relentless seekers of knowledge, sometimes called despoilers or grave robbers, but she didn't believe those tales. There was a Pathfinder lodge in Katapesh, in fact, and Torius had told her he'd even worked for them in the past, providing protection during an examination of a deep-sea ruin somewhere. She had never heard anyone describe them as deluded, however.

"Why is that deluded?" Celeste asked. Something about the man bothered her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. By the stars, I'm even thinking like a human now—I have no fingers! "It's my understanding that more is unknown about the Observatory than is known."

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Many have analyzed the structure and its associated magic, Miss Celeste, and none have discovered evidence to suggest that the Observatory is anything but a means to view the cosmos. A theory unsupported by facts is nothing but someone's misguided fancy."

"Until they discover something that no one else considered." Celeste smiled disarmingly to conceal her distaste. How could any seeker of knowledge so thoughtlessly dismiss another's pursuit?

"So, you've assumed the position of the Observatory's caretaker?" Torius's opinion of Astrus had obviously not improved. His tone was still civil, but edged. "How did you manage that?"

"I've assumed nothing, Captain Vin. I'm simply keeping things organized and peaceful." He waved a hand at the encampment. "I've been here the longest, and feel it's my duty to introduce new arrivals to the Observatory, both to enrich their experience, and to let them know that they are not the only ones here to use it."

"How long have you been here?" Celeste asked.

"Several months now."

"That's quite a long time out here in the middle of nowhere." Torius raised a questioning eyebrow. "What do you do for water?"

"One of my people is a Desnan cleric, Captain. The goddess grants her a few minor boons, one of which is the ability to conjure water for our needs."

Celeste grimaced with chagrin. "I should have thought of that! We could have hired an acolyte from Gozreh's temple to come along! Then our stay wouldn't be limited by our water supply." She looked hopefully toward Astrus.

"I would offer to share, but my own contingent is so large that the water is barely sufficient."

Celeste's tail twitched. Something in Astrus's denial told her that the answer would have been no even if he had a well overflowing with water.

Torius nodded toward the Observatory. "So, is there an appointment book, or do we just take turns?"

"There are few enough of us that we simply take turns, Captain. Most find conducting lengthy observations to be taxing on both the eyes and mind, so there are usually no hard feelings. We gather at sunset to arrange the evening's schedule. Tonight, because you are newly arrived, we've agreed to give you the entire night to yourselves." He smiled and waved toward the raised platform.

"That's very kind of you," Torius said grudgingly.

As they turned toward the stone platform, however, Hashi stepped in front of them, one hand raised.

"It's traditional to remove one's shoes before walking on the platform." Lord Astrus's voice was calm, but insistent. "A thousand thousand sandy boots will eventually abrade the carved image down to nothing, and we can't guess the damage that might cause to the inherent magic."

Without another word, Torius sat on the edge of the stone slab and started pulling off his boots. Celeste moved to join him, then felt the telltale itch of her transformation spell ending. She turned toward the nearest pillar as if to examine it and whispered the incantation to renew the spell. Louder, she recited a simple spell to discern magical auras. She didn't care if Astrus or Hashi knew that she used magic, but she preferred they didn't know she was transformed.

"These pillars, Lord Astrus. I see no magical enchantments on them. Do they serve a purpose?" Glancing over her shoulder, she was surprised to see a faint aura surrounding the lord. She blinked rapidly, assuming that the overwhelming glow of the Observatory's enchantment was playing a trick on her eyes. By the time she had turned toward him for a better view, Astrus had slipped off his sandals and stepped up onto the platform. Any aura Celeste may have thought she observed was now masked by the overpowering magic of the Observatory.

"You're a wizard?" Astrus asked.

"A sorcerer." Celeste dismissed her spell to see his face more clearly. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all. I was simply unaware. I understood only that you were Captain Vin's navigator."

"Celeste is many things, navigator and sorcerer among them," Torius said. "In fact, her spells ran off a pack of hyenafolk last night. Slavers looking for new inventory."

"Yes, Hashi told me that you'd been attacked. You're sure they were slavers?"

"Oh yes. I recognize a slaver when I see one. We think they were Duenas. We've had ...problems with them before. Have they attacked the encampment here?"

"No. We have, however, been plagued by a priestess of the Rough Beast, a woman named Brigid Zelegan." Astrus's lip curled in derision. "She's quite insane, as most of the devotees of Rovagug are. They all seek only destruction and death. Though she's a half-orc, her followers include hyenafolk. I'd heard that some of the Carrion Tribe had turned their backs on Lamashtu, the Mother of Monsters, to follow Rovagug. They've gone from bad to worse, or mad to utterly insane, in my opinion, but it's not unheard of for fanatics to change devotion to serve under such a ...charismatic leader."

"Insane and charismatic?" Torius flashed a worried look to Celeste. The followers of Rovagug were indeed insane, seeking only the destruction of the world. "That sounds like a dangerous combination."

"It is." Astrus stared out into the night. "Zelegan is convinced that by desecrating the Observatory, she can bring about the destruction of the sun, thereby ending the world and freeing Rovagug from his prison."

"Can she?" Celeste's question drew an amused look from the lord.

"I seriously doubt it."

"How are you handling security?" Torius looked around the encampment, undoubtedly thinking about battle tactics.

"Each camp handles its own security. I assume the others post watches during the day, as do I, and I usually put one night watch on that escarpment of rock over there." He pointed to a low rocky outcrop about a quarter mile from the Observatory.

"No coordinated defense?" Celeste exchanged a glance with Torius. "Why not?"

"I wouldn't deign to issue orders to those outside my purview, and wouldn't expect my people to follow the orders of others. Coordination wouldn't work."

"But—"

Celeste nudged Torius, hoping to avoid an argument. "Why is she targeting the Observatory? It's a shrine to Desna, goddess of the stars, not the sun."

"What is the sun but a nearby star? Zelegan has approached several times to threaten us. She hasn't attacked yet, but each time, her followers grow more numerous."

As Celeste listened with half an ear to Torius and Astrus discussing the optimal location of sentries, she sat on the edge of the stone and removed her sandals.

Finally, Torius brushed the sand from his feet and stood up on the stone platform. Holding out a hand to Celeste, he asked, "Shall we?"

Eagerly, she grasped his hand and stood, shivering with anticipation. She was here, finally here. "Can more than one person use the Observatory at the same time?"

"Only one person can manipulate the view, but another can observe. The process is intuitive." Astrus waved them toward the middle of the stone slab, where the ornate image of a Desnan butterfly was engraved into the stone. "You should lie on your back to be most comfortable."

Celeste lay down atop the butterfly image.

Torius smiled down at her. "You look like you have wings." He lay down and clasped her hand, and her heart fluttered in her breast. She was sharing her dream with the man she loved. What more could she ask for?

"Ready?" She squeezed his fingers.

"Ready."

Focusing on a well-known nebula in the constellation of the Twins, Celeste willed it closer. She gasped as the image swelled in her vision. The nebula shone like a huge eye in the sky, a bright point surrounded by an explosion of clouds dotted with brilliant motes of stars. She brought it so close, she felt as if they were inside, looking out.

"By the stars ..."

"What did you say?"

Astrus's sharp tone startled her, and Celeste turned her head, the image of the expanded nebula vanishing from her sight. "A saying of my people. As astrologers, we—"

"Astrologers?" Astrus scoffed. "Astrology is nothing but wishful thinking overriding wisdom."

Celeste felt as if the man had slapped her. She started to sit up, but Torius squeezed her hand and propped himself up on one elbow.

"I don't know about that, Astrus. Celeste has predicted a few things for me with a startling degree of accuracy. Her prophecies have saved my life more than once."

"I find that difficult to believe, Captain."

"Lord Astrus, I was once told by a worshiper of Desna that the mind is like the wings of a butterfly." Celeste deliberately kept her tone even as she turned her attention back to the wonder of the starry sky.

"Really? How so?"

"Both ascend to a higher place only if they're open."

"A clever anecdote, Miss Celeste, but I find that facts serve the same purpose, and do not crumble as easily as conjecture and whimsy." He bowed deeply. "Enjoy your evening."

Celeste and Torius watched Lord Astrus stroll toward the tents, his movements unhurried, Hashi trailing at his heels. When they were out of hearing, Torius turned to her. "Infuriating fellow."

"He's hiding something." Celeste turned back to the nebula.

"What? How so?"

"He's got a magical aura that surrounds him. I only caught a glimpse, but it's there. It could just be something like your kaftan, an enchantment to keep him cool, but it didn't seem the same."

"Hmm. Well, we'll keep an eye on him." Torius reclined beside her and looked up at the sky. "I'll have Grogul ask around. Forget about Astrus. This is our time now." He leaned his head against hers and clasped her hand again. "What do we look at first?"

"Follow me." With a pounding heart, Celeste took him into the heavens.

∗ ∗ ∗

"Mistress Jhafae! You honor us with your presence!" The hostess bustled forward and greeted Vreva with two kisses on her cheeks and a genuine smile.

"It's always my pleasure to visit you, Kamalah." She glanced around the outdoor restaurant. Zarina had not yet arrived, but that wasn't surprising. Vreva had come early to give Saffron time to scout the area.

"I've arranged everything as you requested. Please follow me." Kamalah led Vreva through the dining area to her usual table, her colorful sari billowing in the light breeze. "I have your favorite wine chilling."

"You're a gift from the gods, Kamalah." Vreva took her seat, and the hostess poured ice water from a glistening silver pitcher into two goblets. "My guest has a taste for whiskey. Do you have any single malts in your collection?"

"Of course, Mistress Jhafae!" Kamalah looked affronted. "May Abadar strike me dead if we fail to cater to our guests' every whim!"

"My apologies. I meant no insult. I just want my guest to feel at home." She brushed the vase of blossoms on the table and breathed in the heady scent of jasmine. "You may have heard of Inquisitor Capoli."

Kamalah's eyes widened. "Indeed! I will bring you the finest in our cellar."

"Thank you." Vreva sat back and surveyed the area with satisfaction. This spot was one of her favorites for dinners with clients. The hillside location not only had a beautiful view of Okeno, but provided privacy as well. No casual passerby could see or hear the diners, as the elevated patio was surrounded by a thorny hedge of bougainvillea, impenetrable for any would-be eavesdropper. The corner table also provided her a view of the entire dining area, and she'd paid Kamalah to keep the three nearest tables empty for additional privacy.

A twinge of excitement followed by a flush of pleasure warmed her, and she knew Saffron was near, probably chasing something small and tasty through the shrubbery. She broadcast a stern sense of duty, hoping he'd take the hint. Tonight wasn't the time for him to go scurrying off after mice.

She noted a few curious glances from other diners, and wondered if they suspected the inquisitor's arrival. Rumors were no doubt flying around Okeno already. She wouldn't be surprised if Quopek himself had let slip that the inquisitor had spent the night in her company.

Movement drew her eye to the foyer of the restaurant. Zarina stood there, sweeping the room with her eyes. Tall and imposing, she wore her official attire: gleaming chainmail and weapons, though she had left her repeating crossbow behind. Lamplight glittered off the key of Abadar embroidered on her tabard.

All business tonight, then.

Banishing her twinge of worry, Vreva met Zarina's gaze with a beaming smile and was relieved to see it returned. Rising as Kamalah led the inquisitor to the table, Vreva held out her hands in greeting. As always, she had thought long and hard about her manner and actions tonight, how best to put her guest at ease. Embarrassing Zarina with a public display of affection might put her off, which was the last thing she wanted.

"You're looking ready for anything tonight," Vreva said. "Not expecting trouble, I hope."

"Not at all." Zarina grasped both of Vreva's hands, squeezing them gently as she leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks. "And you look ..." She appraised Vreva's silk-clad figure with approval, whispering something in Varisian that sounded both poetic and suggestive. "...lovely tonight."

"Thank you." Vreva smiled demurely and nodded toward the table. "Now sit down before you embarrass me."

"Ha!" Zarina released her grasp and took a seat, maneuvering her weapons with practiced ease. "I doubt very much that anything I do could embarrass you, and yet you greet me with a handshake?"

"I didn't want to ...presume too much."

"Presume? What do you mean?" Zarina's brow furrowed, and Vreva knew that she'd played this card perfectly.

"You're a figure of authority here in Okeno on business. I didn't know how you would feel about ...being associated with a courtesan. There are rumors as it is."

"Let them talk." Zarina flicked a hand dismissively. "I couldn't stop people from spreading rumors about us even if they weren't true. And as you pointed out, we're both adults, and aren't breaking any laws."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Zarina, but I wanted to make sure. I wouldn't want to harm your reputation."

"And what of your reputation?" Zarina quirked a wry smile.

"My dear Zarina." Vreva waved her hand with a flourish. "My reputation is above reproach."

Zarina leaned forward, her smile turning wolfish, her voice a soft, low growl. "So, if I threw you down on this table and had my way with you right here in the restaurant, your reputation wouldn't be tainted?"

Vreva gaped at her in astonishment for a moment before breaking into honest laughter. "Tainted? No, I think it would bolster my reputation!" She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Shall we try?"

"Ah ...no." Zarina blushed and nodded as if conceding a point. "You've called my bluff. Let the rumormongers talk, but we needn't fuel their fires."

"Fair enough."

Vreva waved to the discreetly hovering waiter. He approached, two bottles cradled in his arms as if they were his own newborn babes. The wine he presented to Vreva, and she nodded in approval. Zarina, however, shook her head when he displayed the bottle of fine whiskey.

"Water only for me tonight, thank you."

"As the lady wishes." The waiter poured Vreva's wine, bowed, and departed.

"I hope you're not still feeling any ill effects from last night." Vreva sipped her wine.

"No, but I should keep my wits about me tonight for our discussion. I reviewed my notes from last night, and I have some questions."

"Of course. During dinner, or afterward?"

"During dinner, if you don't mind." Zarina leaned forward. "Vreva, I must thank you for your help with my investigation. I've spent the entire day talking to people, and all I get are averted eyes and mumbled words that mean nothing! I think they worry that I'm looking for scapegoats rather than the truth."

"It's a pleasure to help you, Zarina." Dear Calistria, this is working out even better than I imagined! "As a courtesan, I have no way to find Templeton's accomplices. Aiding your quest helps heal the injury of his betrayal. I see that you are actually helping me."

At that moment, the waiter returned with two menus and a platter of flatbread and hummus. Vreva waved away the menu.

"My usual, please."

"Curried lamb. Yes, Mistress Jhafae."

"That sounds delicious." Zarina handed back her menu. "The same please."

"Very good." The waiter nodded with a smile and left.

"You won't be disappointed."

Zarina reached across the table and took Vreva's hand in hers. "I know."

The intensity of the inquisitor's gaze unnerved Vreva, and she felt a blush warm her cheeks. Zarina's sudden self-assurance about their relationship came as a pleasant surprise. Her stomach fluttered at the sensation of Zarina's strong hand clasping hers.

Those are the hands that tortured Fieson! Never forget that!

Vreva resented the chiding of her conscience. Yes, Zarina was an inquisitor. Finding the truth was her sworn duty, and sometimes she used unpleasant means to achieve that goal, just as Vreva used lies, drugs, and seduction to achieve hers. Their methods were different, but their goals were startlingly similar. Both of them sought to root out the truth. We're more alike than we're different.

"So," Zarina released her hand and tried a wedge of the bread with a dab of hummus, "I've been thinking about your clients, and I have some questions."

"Of course." Vreva sampled the spicy dip, and prepared her mind to weave a web of truth-veiled lies.

"Templeton brought you wine, and he asked you about your clients. Did he seem interested in anyone particularly?"

"Not really." Vreva sipped her wine and cast the first strand. "He asked about a great many things ..."

Chapter Eight

Revelations

Celeste couldn't sleep for the stars and galaxies whirling through her mind. Coiled beneath the tent's open ventilation flap, she gazed up at the night sky. The magnified view using the Observatory was beautiful, but with it she could no longer discern the constellations, which she used for her prophecies. Nor could she calculate the angles of the heavenly bodies necessary for navigation.

Different beauties, different uses.

This had been their third night using the Observatory, and she had barely scratched the surface of all she wanted to discover. A year would not be enough to see everything.

Too much to see, and too little time to see it all.

Sighing, she peered through her telescope at an intriguing cluster of blue-white stars. Her pen scratched across the parchment as she jotted down coordinates, a reminder to observe them tomorrow night using the Observatory. Curiously, when her notation was complete, the scratching persisted. The sound was not unlike that of her scales on dry ground.

Scales on dry ground ...They had seen sand eels on their way to the Observatory, but the ground here was too hard for them. A death worm? Possible, but something that large would surely have been spotted by the watch guards. Of course, venomous snakes were not uncommon. The scratching neared the tent.

Celeste had used all of her transformation and illusion spells for the day, and dared not venture out in her natural form. Even though it was dark, many people slept by day and were active by night. She glanced over to where Torius snored fitfully on his bedroll, his face and chest glistening with sweat. She hated to disturb his rest. But if it's a serpent of some kind ...She had to determine if a threat lurked outside the tent.

Celeste rose on her coils and peeked over the edge of the open canvas flap.

Her hearted stopped pounding. There was no serpent, only someone in a dark cloak walking past their tent. She watched as he stopped and turned. Lord Astrus's eyes searched the dark camp, his head turning this way and that as if questing for some elusive scent on the breeze. After a moment, he continued on, and she heard it again: the rhythmic scratch of scales against dry ground. Then her keen eye caught a glimpse of something unexpected.

Lord Astrus left no footprints in his wake, only the familiar undulating track of a serpent.

What in the name of the heavens?

Even as Celeste tried to reconcile the incongruence between what she saw and heard, his form seemed to melt away. The dark cloak rippled into dark scales. Alabaster hair flowed down his back, and his sinuous tail twitched.

A shiver thrilled down her long spine. Astrus is a lunar naga!

Celeste dropped down onto her coils. She hadn't seen another of her kind since she left her home so very many years ago. With a surge of excitement, she slithered to the tent flap, intent on greeting him. Then she halted, a lifetime of caution reasserting itself. She couldn't go out without revealing her true form, and if Astrus was using an illusion to conceal his nature, he might not appreciate her exposing him. Well, she could at least let Torius know what was going on.

She slithered to his bedroll and gave him a nudge. "Torius!" She kept her voice low but urgent. "Wake up! You need to see this!"

"What? What is it?" He rolled up and reached for his sword before his eyes even cleared. "Trouble?"

"No trouble, but I've discovered what it was about Astrus that was bothering me, the magical aura I saw around him." She nudged him again and went back to the open ventilation flap. "Come look!"

"This better be good." He put his sword down and joined her. He wasn't tall enough to peer over the top, so he nudged a chest over and stood on it.

Celeste peeked over the rim and spied Astrus slithering between two tents. "Now! Look!"

Torius peered out. "Look at what?"

"At Astrus!"

"What about him?"

"Oh ...blast it!" She'd forgotten that he would only see the illusion. Leaning in close to his ear, she whispered, "Look at his feet. Watch the ground behind him for footprints, and tell me what you see."

"I can barely see him, much less his footprints. It's too dark." He shot her an irritated look. "I don't see as well as you do, Celeste. Just tell me. What's wrong with Astrus?"

"His appearance is an illusion, Torius. He's a lunar naga!"

He stared at her. "A what?"

"You know!" She shimmered her scales briefly. "Scales, fangs, venom, a love of the stars. A lunar naga!"

"You're sure?" He still sounded dubious.

"Oh, I don't know, Torius. I haven't seen one in a while, except for in the mirror!"

"I wasn't suggesting that you wouldn't recognize one, Celeste, it's just that I'd never even heard of a lunar naga until I met you. They're kind of rare."

"Oh, really?" Why was he being such a dolt about this?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to doubt you. If you say Astrus is a lunar naga, then he is. I believe you." His eyebrows lifted suddenly. "In fact, it explains a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like Hashi. He's twitchy, shaky ..." Torius lifted a quaking hand. "Do those symptoms remind you of anyone?"

"You think Hashi's going through withdrawals?" It suddenly made sense. Astrus's people were his followers, not his employees.

"Yes, I do. And I wonder if all of his people are drug-addled."

"Now Torius, just because you—"

"It's slavery, Celeste, and I don't like it."

"Many lunar nagas have followers who take their venom mixed with alcohol for its hallucinogenic effects, Torius, and they enter the compact willingly. That doesn't make Astrus a slaver."

"I still don't have to like it." He shook his head, and barked a laugh. "A lunar naga ...I'm just surprised."

"You're surprised! How do you think I feel?"

"Honestly, Celeste, I don't know. Humans are as common as grass. More common than grass around here, in fact." He grinned and ran a hand through her hair. "I imagine it's a bit like seeing a long-lost relative."

How did she feel? Scared? Worried? Yes, but exhilarated as well. If anyone could share with her what they knew about the stars, it would be another lunar naga.

"What are you going to do about it?"

His question snapped her out of her musing. As usual, Torius cut right to the core of the problem. What was she going to do? Tell Astrus that she knew his true form? Simply reveal herself to him? What if he didn't want anyone to know? What if he made her leave? Her excitement waned as anxiety waxed.

"I don't know, Torius." She bit her lip. "I don't have any idea what I'm going to do."

∗ ∗ ∗

*This place smells amazing! Will you buy me a fish?*

Vreva wrinkled her nose. The odors of fish, slaves, and unwashed sailors permeated the hot afternoon air, and she longed for a bath to scrub herself clean of the stench. The waterfront had never been her favorite place, and even less so since the burning of Devil's Dawn.

"No! Just keep an eye out for trouble." She barely moved her lips, trying to avoid unwanted attention.

*These are the Okeno docks, Vreva. There's nothing here but trouble.*

"You're not helping, Saffron. I came down here to think, not listen to you yammer on. Unless you've got a serious suggestion, please be quiet!"

*Fine.* He dug his claws into her arm and lashed his tail.

Vreva seemed plagued with troubles lately. First and foremost, Zarina. Tonight would be the first since their initial night together that she wouldn't be seeing the inquisitor. After their dinner at Kamalah's, Vreva had accompanied Zarina to her inn for further discussions, and they'd ended up in the inquisitor's bed. The night after that, it had been a lovely moonlit gondola ride around Yellow Harbor. When they'd returned to the dock, Zarina had simply gotten into the coach with Vreva and ordered the driver to take them to the Inn of the Eighth Sin. She left the next morning after breakfast. Tonight Vreva had a client scheduled, postponing their next rendezvous. Zarina had been disappointed, but understanding—business was business. Vreva was relieved; she needed time to reflect on the position she had put herself in.

Her plan had worked all too well. Zarina was falling for her, and falling hard. Vreva was acquiring detailed information about the investigation and the Pactmasters' plans against the abolitionists, but she was also exhausted. She spent more time with Zarina than with all of her other clients combined, and the constant vigilance of word and deed wore on her. On top of that, her own emotional response troubled her. She found herself anticipating their appointments, enjoying conversations on subjects other than their respective jobs, and reveling in the physical pleasures they shared. The woman beneath the armor was bright, beautiful, lively ...and dangerous.

"What am I going to do?" she murmured, keeping her voice low.

*Okay, I've got a suggestion!* Saffron licked her nose. *We pack up, disguise ourselves as disciples of Pharasma, board a ship, and get the hell out of Okeno!*

"I meant a real suggestion!"

*That was a real suggestion! You're diddling an inquisitor who's hunting you. You don't have an intermediary. You've got enough poison, potions, scrolls and other incriminating evidence in the apartment to put your neck in a noose a dozen times, and my box hasn't been cleaned out in three days!*

"I'm sorry, love." She kissed her dear friend on the head. "Have I been neglecting you?"

*Yes, but that's really not my point.* He bumped her chin with his forehead and nuzzled her neck. *You're playing with fire here, and Marshal Trellis doesn't give a damn that you've got an inquisitor breathing down your neck! Quite literally breathing down your neck, I might add. Don't think I didn't see you two on the balcony last night!*

Vreva shivered pleasantly with the memory. Dear Calistria, I'm in trouble!

Driving away the erotic images filling her mind, Vreva forced herself to the task at hand. It was common knowledge that the Pactmasters had offered a considerable reward for the destruction of the Gray Corsairs, Andoran's naval branch of the Steel Falcons, both for their sinking of Okeno slave galleys and for their relentless attacks on Stonespine Island, the center of the slave trade for the entire Inner Sea region. No small part of the Gray Corsairs' success, in fact, had resulted from intelligence that Vreva helped to gather. What wasn't widely known, and what Zarina had recently let drop, was that the Masks had begun arming the Okeno slaver fleet. Unfortunately, the inquisitor had not mentioned exactly how they were arming the vessels.

Vreva looked at every slave galley they passed, her trained eyes searching for something new, something different, but nowhere could she see evidence of newly installed arms. They already sported ballistae, and the larger ones even had catapults. What more did they need?

If only I could use my spells, I could read her thoughts and get the answer! But she still didn't dare use magic on Zarina. If the inquisitor suspected for even a moment that Vreva was more than she claimed to be, the courtesan would share Fieson's fate. Saffron nuzzled her and purred in an attempt to cast off her black mood.

"I can handle Zarina, Saffron." Vreva wasn't sure if the conviction in her voice was intended to convince her familiar or herself. "I've got her right where I want her."

*I noticed that, too.* His sarcasm came through clear and strong.

"What I need is someone to replace Fieson, but everyone I know here is a godsdamned slaver!"

*Well, not everyone, but I agree that there's nobody here you can trust. That's why we should just leave.*

"We can't leave, my love." She gazed down the docks at the slave galleys, the merchant ships, the swift-sailing sloops that no doubt engaged in piracy when the opportunity arose ...

The answer came to her so easily that she almost laughed. "Torius!"

*Not a good idea, Vreva. He hit you! I don't trust him.* Saffron's wave of dislike for Torius washed over Vreva.

"Well, I rather deserved it, don't you think?" She remembered perfectly the day Torius stormed into her apartment, threatened her at swordpoint, then knocked her flat with the back of his hand. It seemed fair payment for betraying him to Benrahi Ekhan. Seven Stargazers had died as a result of that betrayal, even though it hadn't been voluntary. The only lasting injury had been to her pride. Saffron had taken it more personally than she. "I did betray him, and some of his crew were killed as a result. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't kill me outright when he discovered what I'd done."

*That wasn't your fault. You didn't have a choice.*

That was true enough. "Yes, well, it's all in the past, and I think Torius might be just the person to help us. Did I ever tell you that his pesh addict mother sold him into slavery when he was a child?"

*No, you didn't! How did you ever extract that bit of information from him?*

"I didn't. I was able to cast a charm on Celeste, and she told me. He harbors no love for slavers, but how far would he be willing to go down that road?"

*I still don't trust him. He's a pirate, Vreva. He's more likely to sell you to the Pactmasters.*

"There's only one way to find out, but don't worry. If I reveal what I really am to Torius Vin, I'll be ready."

*Ready for what?*

"Ready to kill him if he even thinks about selling me to the Masks."

*Well, at least you're thinking like a spy again.*

"I never stop thinking like a spy, my love. If I ever do, we're both dead."

*I know.* He nuzzled her neck again. *That's what worries me.*

Chapter Nine

The Hook

Truth or lies, deception or honesty? Celeste slithered back and forth across their tent. She had obsessed about Lord Astrus all day, and gotten not a wink of sleep. Did she continue to deceive one of her own kind, or risk divulging her true nature? She glanced out of the open ventilation flap. It would soon be time to meet with the others to decide on the night's schedule. Her opportunity to tell the truth, or continue the lie, came and went with the sunset.

Laughter from outside interrupted her thoughts, and Torius entered with dinner.

"So, have you made a decision?" He set down the plates and sat with his legs folded tailor-fashion. Some of his natural grace had returned. His hands were steadier, his face less pinched. He was getting over his withdrawal symptoms.

Getting over me.

She shook off the ridiculous thought and joined him at the table. Tonight's dinner, a stew of lentils and more of the ubiquitous barrel-meat, smelled more appetizing than it looked. In answer to his question, she shook her head. "Not really, no. You're looking better."

"I'm feeling better. Look." He held out a cup and poured wine into it with barely a tremor.

"Good." Celeste dipped a piece of flatbread into the stew and sampled it. Her mouth lit up with pepper and garlic. Raising her tin cup, she sipped her wine. "I know you think it's my decision what to tell Astrus, but it could affect all of us if he reacts poorly, so I'd like your opinion. What do you think I should do?"

Torius shrugged and swallowed a bite of stew before answering. "It's not like he could denounce you for what you are, or even for deceiving everyone else about it, since he's doing the same thing. He is arrogant, but he hasn't actually tried to lord his status over anyone. I say, do it. If you don't, you're going to keep obsessing and drive me crazy slithering back and forth all day long."

"Oh, so I should reveal myself to Astrus so you can get some sleep?" She flared involuntarily at his self-centered attitude.

"Yes, that's precisely it." He flashed a grin that revealed his little joke. "It is all about me, isn't it?"

Celeste appreciated his effort to lighten her mood, but didn't feel much like laughing. She considered nudging his wine cup into his lap in revenge, then reconsidered. He was right. She would never forgive herself if she let the opportunity pass. There was little to lose, and so much to gain.

"All right, then. After tonight's scheduling meeting, I'll talk to Lord Astrus."

"Do you want me to stick around?"

"Thank you, Torius, but no. He might consider an armed escort a threat."

"Good point." He took a bite of stew and chewed thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want him to bite me. Then I'd have to go through this whole damned withdrawal thing all over again."

They finished their dinner quickly, and Celeste cast the illusion that made her look like Windy Kate. As they emerged from the tent, the sun had just descended behind the distant mountains, and the heat of the day was ebbing. Grogul and the other Stargazers were sitting around the fire, eating their dinners and sipping grog. Their laughter faded in the distance as Celeste and Torius passed through the camp to the meeting place.

Hultey and Lochnal, the two clerics of Desna, were already there, their heads bent over a parchment covered in script. They greeted Celeste and Torius with polite nods and went back to their argument. She smiled at their vehemence. Even though they kept their rants to a whisper, everyone in the camp knew the two had serious disagreements over Desnan doctrine. Hultey maintained that the Observatory was a magically augmented magnification device for viewing the stars, whereas Lochnal believed the shrine simply put the viewer's mind into a dream state, and that the images they saw weren't real. Since Desna was goddess of both stars and dreams, neither seemed impossible. As usual, the Pathfinder, a lavender-haired gnome named Quizzik, was absent. He conducted his research during the daylight hours, and didn't take part in these meetings. A strangely intense little chap, he seemed very different than the fun-loving and mischievous Snick.

Torius sat down, and Celeste manipulated her illusory disguise into a sitting position. Moments later, Astrus emerged from his nearby tent. Now that Celeste knew that his outward appearance was an illusion, she had little difficulty piercing it to discern his true nature. The sight of long, sinuous coils so like her own sent a thrill through her.

"Good evening, everyone." Astrus took his place at the edge of the circle. "Does anyone require a change in the schedule for their observations tonight?"

Everyone indicated that they were happy with their current times.

"Then we'll keep the same schedule as we had last night: Hultey, then Lochnal, then Celeste and Torius, then myself for the predawn period."

So far, most of the meetings had been like this, with little exchange of observations or information, as if each observer were jealous of his own findings and unwilling to share. The attitude vexed Celeste. After reconciling herself to sharing the Observatory, she had imagined heady discussions of astronomy and the heavens. Maybe what she had to say to Astrus would change things, at least between them.

The meeting over, Hultey headed off to start his observations, and Lochnal to his tent. Astrus started to leave. Steeling her nerves, Celeste called out, "Lord Astrus. I'd like to speak with you, if you have a moment."

"Certainly." He turned to her, inclining his head but keeping his distance, his long, forked tongue flicking out to sample the air.

"I'll see you back at camp." Torius gave her a secret smile and nodded to Astrus before strolling away.

"It must be a matter of astronomy, then." At Celeste's questioning look, Astrus nodded after Torius. "Captain Vin is less passionate about the stars than you. If you wish to talk to me alone, it must be about something that concerns you and not him."

"Actually, this is a personal matter." She gestured away from the tents.

"I don't understand." Astrus followed her away from the camp and into the twilit desert. "What personal matter could I possibly help you with? We've known one another but a few days."

She wasn't sure how to broach the subject. "I thought it only polite to inform you that I've discovered something."

Astrus smiled condescendingly. "Everyone who uses the Observatory makes discoveries. I'm happy for you, but I really have no interest—"

"It's not an astronomical discovery. This was the discovery that we have something in common besides our fascination with the stars." Celeste breathed deep and forged ahead. "I discovered that you cloak your true form with an illusion."

"What?" He stopped and stared at her, his features suddenly hard and guarded. His tail twitched nervously, and he flexed his coils, ready to strike.

"Please relax, Lord Astrus. You have nothing to fear from me. I penetrated your disguise because I'm using the same disguise for the same reason. My appearance right now is an illusion." She shuffled her scales on the hard, dry ground, keeping her illusory feet still. "If you listen, think, and concentrate, I'm sure you can penetrate it, as I did yours. We're more alike than we are different."

His eyes narrowed, then widened in shock, and she knew he saw her true form.

"I ...I see!" The muscles of his throat, the ones that controlled venom flow, relaxed. "That's ...astonishing!" He slithered around her in a quick circle, his face alight.

"I'm sorry I startled you." She undulated her coils in delight at his response. "I didn't know exactly how to broach the subject."

"Ha! Yes, I suppose ‘Hello, I'm a lunar naga' is rather a difficult way to begin a conversation." He chuckled. "Well, this changes everything! I should have known!"

"That I was a lunar naga? How could you?" They'd barely spoken except for the introduction he'd given them to the Observatory, and then her appearance had been an actual transformation, not an illusion. "Lord Astrus, I—"

"Please, there must be no formality between us. I insist that you call me Astrus." His smile, for the first time since they had arrived, seemed genuine. "I must confess, I had no idea. I simply don't pay much attention to humans, you see. If I had, I'd certainly have made the connection. Your followers are rather ...unorthodox, but I recognize the signs now."

"Followers?"

"Yes. I would have expected them to show more of an interest in the stars."

Celeste shook her head. "They're not my followers, they're my friends and shipmates."

His smile faded, and he furrowed his brow. "How do you control them?"

"I don't control them. We work together and respect one another."

"But your so-called Captain Vin." He glanced toward the pirates' camp. "His pallor, his shaking hands and unsteady gait. You're punishing him for some transgression by withholding your venom, are you not?"

Celeste reared back. "I am not! Torius is exactly what he told you he was, a ship's captain. And I am his navigator. He became addicted to my venom inadvertently, and is currently breaking that addiction of his own free will."

Astrus's expression now hovered between incredulity and disgust. "If you don't control them using your venom, how can you trust them not to turn on you?"

"I trust them with my life, Astrus, and they trust me with theirs." Celeste suppressed a hiss of disdain. After she'd defended the practice of keeping willing followers to Torius, Astrus made it sound like slavery. But she couldn't show that disdain if she wanted to work with him.

"The reason I decided to reveal my true nature to you has nothing to do with the company either of us keeps. It has to do with our shared natures." She nodded toward the Observatory. "We both love the stars, and can undoubtedly learn from each other. If we share our findings, we'll both be enriched."

"I see." Astrus sounded doubtful.

He circled her again, this time more slowly, eyeing her as if he suspected that her naga form was the real illusion. She flushed with the memory of Benrahi Ekhan circling her on Stargazer's last caper, appraising her like a prize camel for sale.

"Celeste, I have lived a very long time by being careful with whom I associate. There's no doubt that I can teach you much about the cosmos, but I'd like to know what you have to offer in return."

You arrogant ...Celeste met his scrutiny with firm confidence, not bothering to keep a burr of annoyance out of her voice. "I may not be as old as you are, Astrus, but I've experienced things that would shiver your scales. I've sailed from the Obari Ocean to the Steaming Sea. I can pinpoint my position anywhere on Golarion within a three-mile radius using only the stars and a sextant. I've charted comets and cataloged meteor showers from quadrants of the sky you've probably never seen."

Astrus paused, his expression shifting from doubtful to intrigued. "I meant no offense, Celeste. My own travels have been limited to northern Garund, and although I've never bothered to learn the art of celestial navigation, it does interest me. I'd also be interested in seeing your data on comets."

So, he admits to not knowing everything. That's something, at least. "Then you agree we could both benefit from our association?"

"Yes, and I'm willing to show you what I've learned in my time here."

...in my time here. The emphasis was slight but distinct. He would share, but set strict limits on how much. She could live with that, and acknowledged it with a nod. "And I'll teach you celestial navigation and share my data on comets."

"Excellent!" Astrus flashed a smug smile, but then his mouth turned down. "But I'm concerned about these ...people you associate with, Celeste. You say you trust them with your life, but I see no reason why I should. The knowledge of my nature must remain our secret."

"Torius already knows, but I won't tell anyone else if you agree to return the courtesy."

"You told Captain Vin?" Astrus's tail quivered. "I wish you hadn't done that."

"I share everything with Torius. I can't very well wipe the knowledge from his mind, but he's kept my secret for years. He has no motivation to betray your secret to anyone. You'll just have to trust me on that."

"While I might trust you, Celeste, I could never truly trust a human." His voice was hard-edged. "They're inherently deceitful and weak of will."

"Inherently deceitful?" Celeste couldn't help but laugh. "I find them no more deceitful than any other race, and as far as weak-willed, I think you're mistaken. Some are very strong-willed. Sometimes too strong-willed."

He shook his head. "I think we must agree to disagree on that point, Celeste, but if you promise to keep my nature a secret from the rest of your ...friends, I'll do the same for you."

"Very well. I agree." Of course, if Torius has already told the whole crew, there's nothing I can do about it. "I'll get my navigational instruments and we can begin."

"And when it's my turn at the Observatory, you may attend and observe so that I can instruct you."

Celeste nodded, and suppressed the desire to instruct him on common courtesy. She could learn a lot from him, if she didn't bite him for his arrogance first.

∗ ∗ ∗

"Torius, I have a proposition for you."

His dream—a very good dream about a flying corsair—faded, and a familiar form coalesced. Familiar, yet not. Instead of her usual courtesan's garb, Vreva wore a simple white gown with a high collar.

"Vreva? What are you—"

"I'm sorry to disturb you. I know you're probably on that trip you mentioned, but something has come up that I think will interest you."

"I'm not—"

"I'm in a difficult position here, even more difficult than I was in with Benrahi Ekhan. I need a ship's captain I can trust, and frankly, you're the only one I know."

What the hell is she talking about? Vreva's friends with every slaver in Okeno.

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I won't lie to you, Torius. This is too serious a situation for anything but the truth. The job will be dangerous, though probably not any more than piracy. What's more, I believe it will mesh well with your ...moral code. And, of course, there will be payment. Very generous payment."

"What the hell do you know about my moral code?" Torius was inclined to dismiss the offer out of hand, but this didn't sound like the Vreva Jhafae he knew. For one thing, truth usually didn't play a large part in the courtesan's life. Also, she always seemed to have some quip or sultry double entendre on the tip of her tongue, but not a one had passed her lips yet.

"I must see you as soon as you can possibly get here. I'll give you the details face to face, not through a spell. Calistria help me if you're out in the middle of the desert, because I can't wait too long. If I don't see or hear from you within a week or so, I'll assume you're not interested, and make other arrangements." She barked a short, humorless laugh, completely unlike her usual musical mirth. "Although at this point, I don't have any other options."

"I don't know if I can—"

"This spell only works one way, so don't bother trying to answer. I can't see or hear you."

Well, I wish she'd said that earlier.

"Please, Torius, come quickly if you possibly can. If you can't ...well, never mind." Vreva smiled, but it looked forced, the first time he'd ever seen her do anything that didn't look completely natural. "Give my regards to Celeste."

When Torius woke, he remembered every word and gesture of her disturbing message.

∗ ∗ ∗

"What does she want thisss time?" Celeste had just returned from her first session with Astrus. Brimming with delight, she couldn't wait to describe their observations to Torius. Upon her arrival back at their tent, however, she had found Torius pacing and mumbling, obviously upset. When she'd asked what was wrong, he told her of the message from Vreva.

"I don't know what she wants. She wouldn't say, exactly. Only that something's come up that would interest me, pay well, and mesh with my moral code, whatever the hell that means."

"Since when is Vreva concerned about anyone's moral code?" Celeste had never warmed to the courtesan, despite the help she'd provided with their last job. Something Astrus had said came to mind. If anyone she'd ever met fit the description of inherently deceitful, that person would be Vreva Jhafae.

"I didn't even know I had one!" Torius flashed his best rakish grin.

"You have more of a moral code than she does, that's for certain!" Suspicion flared. "Vreva is friends with a great many slavers. What if this is another betrayal?"

"I don't think so." Torius fiddled with his mustache, deep in thought. "It wasn't what she said that bothered me, Celeste, but how she said it."

"And how was that?"

His eyes flicked up to hers. "She sounded scared, said that she didn't have anywhere else to turn. I know Vreva's dramatic, but this didn't seem like her at all. What if she's telling the truth?" He stopped pulling his mustache and resumed pacing.

"She lies so expertly she could tell you she was a virgin, and you'd believe her!"

"I'd never believe that! Not after we kicked in her door and saw her—"

"Please, Torius! I've been trying to erase that memory from my mind!" Celeste slithered in a tight circle. There wasn't room enough in the tent for two people to pace. "So you want us to pack everything up and hurry back to Katapesh, then sail off to Okeno to save Vreva Jhafae. Just like that? We've been here less than a week! I've barely seen anything! Astrus only began working with me tonight."

Torius stopped pacing and turned to her. "Actually, I was thinking you might want to stay here."

"Alone?" She twitched her tail in surprise. "That would be dangerous. Astrus knows I'm a naga, but no one else—"

"Not alone, Celeste. I'll take a camel and enough food and water to get to Katapesh. You keep the Stargazers here with you. They can keep your secret as well as I can."

"What about that mad Rovagug cleric, and the Duenas? They're still out there."

"Don't worry about them. There are enough others here to make it safe. Nobody in their right mind would attack a camp this size."

Celeste hissed in exasperation. "I'm worried about your safety, not mine!"

Torius grinned. "It's sweet of you to worry, Celeste, but you needn't. Alone, I can travel twice as fast as we did with the wagon, and I'll cut a course straight to Katapesh. I can make it in three days if I water up my camel before I go."

Celeste didn't like the idea of Torius going alone, but she wasn't ready to leave, either. She hadn't scratched the surface of her explorations using the Observatory, and the sights that Astrus had shown her tonight only made her want more. "How long would you be gone?"

"No more than a few weeks, at most. I can send a message if it's going to be longer." Torius came close and brushed a hand through her hair. "I know you're enjoying the Observatory, Celeste, and I don't want to take you away from it. Stay here, learn from Astrus, and name a star after me. You can take care of yourself, and I can take care of myself."

He made sense, but she still didn't want him to go. At least, not to run off to help Vreva Jhafae. "I thought you were enjoying yourself here, too. Are you bored with it already?"

"Not bored, Celeste. I love being here with you, but frankly, astronomy is beyond me. Besides, I've got saltwater in my veins." He looked into her eyes and smiled. "You know you don't have to worry about Vreva trying to seduce me anymore. She seems to have lost interest."

"I know, Torius." In fact, Celeste knew exactly why the courtesan had lost interest, even though Torius didn't. During one of the courtesan's endless training sessions on how to play the part of a pleasure slave during their revengeful scam against Benrahi Ekhan, the naga had let slip the secret of Torius's difficult upbringing, and the reason he had a problem with Vreva's chosen profession. When his mother sank to selling herself to support her pesh habit, then sold Torius into slavery for her beloved drug, his mind had been poisoned against the notion of bartering sex for gain. Vreva had kept the secret, and stopped trying to seduce Torius, but that didn't mean Celeste trusted her. She glanced up through the open ventilation flap at the glittering stars and made up her mind. "All right, but promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise, Celeste." Torius grinned and leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'm always careful. I'll start packing."

"And do me one more favor, Torius."

He stopped and shrugged. "Name it."

"Take Grogul with you. If you're going to sea, you'll need your bosun." She also knew that Grogul looked out for his captain when things got dangerous.

"All right."

"And try not to get lost without your navigator."

"I do know how to navigate, Celeste."

"I know, Torius, but you tend to make mistakes with your declinations."

"I'll do my best." Grinning, he brushed his hand through her hair again. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Celeste cast her transformation spell and stepped into his arms. "Say goodbye to me properly before you go."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She unbuttoned his shirt with a flick of magic. "I bet you were."

Chapter Ten

A Parting of Ways

Torius cinched a strap on his saddle, securing the bag of trail bread. The ill-tempered camel turned its head and spat. Torius dodged most of the noisome glob, cursing the creature, but he couldn't really blame it for its attitude. It didn't relish another trek across the desert. He scooped up a handful of sand to scrub away the smear of white phlegm and continued packing. He and Grogul would be traveling fast, bedding down only during the hottest part of the day. Food, water, and steel were all they carried.

"Ready, Grogul?" The bosun was securing a thick leather scabbard onto his saddle for his spare battleaxe. The gleaming blade he'd gotten in the fight with the werejackals rode at one hip, and his two kukris were tucked through his sash.

"Five minutes, sir. I think I'll bring along a crossbow."

"Good. Get me one, too."

"Don't like this, Captain." Dukkol scowled up at Torius with worry. "Don't like that Astrus much either. He's creepier than a lee shore in fog."

"Don't worry about Astrus. Celeste can take care of him. I know she usually isn't in the chain of command, but she's in charge. Consider yourself her acting bosun. Just keep the Stargazers from going stir-crazy, and keep a keen eye out for trouble."

"Aye, Captain." The dwarf didn't look any happier, but Torius knew he'd do his job. Dukkol was solid.

"Good man." Torius scanned the camp. A number of Astrus's people were milling about, casting interested glances their way. Not a real warrior in the lot.

He'd thought hard about how best to defend the camp. Asking around, he'd discovered that they had more assets than he'd suspected, but it all boiled down to coordination, which meant that it all centered upon Astrus. If the naga didn't think coordinating efforts would work, the others would never agree to it. And now, since Torius was leaving, there was no time to be politic about explaining this.

Now or never ... "I'll be right back." Torius strode straight to Astrus's tent, ignoring the stares from his people, and addressed the two guards posted there. "I'd like to speak with your master."

"Wait here."

One guard ducked through the tent flap, while the other continued to stand with her arms folded, one hand resting on the pommel of her scimitar. Torius looked her over. She seemed steady, but he wondered if she, too, was addicted to the naga's venom. The other guard emerged with Hashi in tow.

"Captain Vin." Hashi bowed. "You wish to see Lord Astrus?"

"That's right."

"I can relay a message."

"I'd like to speak to him in person." Torius wasn't about to be turned away like some slick-palmed solicitor. "My bosun and I are taking a little trip, and I need to talk to him before we leave."

Hashi looked worried, then nodded. "Very well, Captain. I'll ask him." He ducked through the tent flap.

Again, Torius waited.

Hashi emerged a moment later with a surprised look on his face. "Lord Astrus will see you." He held open the tent flap and gestured Torius inside.

The inside of the tent was dark and cool. Two lamps hung from the tent's center poles, both turned down to the point that their illumination barely filled the central space. Hanging tapestries set off several private areas, but here a gold-and-crystal hookah and a silver coffee service sat upon a low central table, with silk pillows arrayed for seating. Astrus emerged from behind one of the cloth walls.

"Captain Vin." The silver coffee pot floated up from the table and poured steaming black brew into one of the cups. "May I offer you coffee, or perhaps a pipe?"

"No, thank you." Torius knew his refusal broke the protocol of desert hospitality, but he didn't have time to sip coffee. "My apologies, but I'm a little rushed."

"Yes, my people have informed me that you've packed two camels in preparation for an excursion." The cup of steaming brew floated up, and Astrus sipped. "I trust there's nothing wrong."

"Just business. I wanted to talk to you before I left."

"About what, Captain?"

"About the security of this camp." Torius began a slow, measured pace. "This is not what I would call a defensible position. There are no fortifications, no walls or embankments, and tents don't offer any protection. With a pack of Duenas nearby, and that Rovagug cult you mentioned, I wanted to make sure proper precautions were being taken."

"It's natural for you to worry about your people in your absence, Captain, but rest assured, we are quite capable of protecting ourselves."

"I see that I haven't made myself clear." Torius turned to the naga and crossed his arms over his chest. "My people are all blooded warriors, Astrus, every single one of them. Celeste is also a formidable sorcerer. Your people, aside from the few guards I've seen, frankly don't impress me. The lack of coordination of the defense of this camp is dangerous. If there's trouble, you'll all be running around like pigs in a slaughterhouse."

"I'll not be insulted, Captain Vin!" Astrus's tail lashed, and his upper body flared in anger.

Torius had seen the display far too many times to be daunted by it. "I'm not insulting you, Astrus, I'm telling you that you need to consider coordinating defenses."

"It won't work. The others wouldn't trust me to command, and I certainly wouldn't trust them!"

"I'm not talking about integrating forces, I'm talking about coordination." Torius knew he was right. What he had to do was convince Astrus. "Everyone commands their own forces, but you share information about each other's capabilities, and allocate efforts by agreement. That way you know where the Desnan priests will be stationed for support with their magic, where the Pathfinder's talents will be put to use, and where Celeste and the Stargazers will be deployed to greatest effect."

"How do you even know Quizzik has any talents?"

"I asked him!" Torius's bark of incredulous laughter elicited another lash from Astrus's tail. "He happens to be a gifted alchemist."

"You've spoken to Celeste about this?"

"No, I haven't." Torius shrugged. "I'd intended to, but I received an urgent message, and I've got to leave. I hoped to convince you to suggest it at tonight's meeting. I think everyone else would look more favorably upon the idea if it came from you. You've already organized the use of the Observatory, after all."

"It sounds to me, Captain, as if you are asking me to organize defense to ensure the safety of your people in your absence." The naga's tone sounded accusatory.

Torius grinned, but it was the grin of a wolf. "I'll say it again: my people are all blooded warriors, but everyone would benefit from a coordinated defense. I would suggest it myself, but I'm leaving, and I don't have time to be included in the planning. You're the only one who can make this work. If the suggestion comes from you, the others will be more likely to sign on."

Astrus seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, Captain. I appreciate your confidence." Astrus put down his cup and inclined his upper body in a respectful bow. "I'll present your suggestions as if they were my own."

"Thank you, Astrus. I appreciate it." Torius smiled again, more honestly this time, and returned the bow. "And now, if you'll forgive my manners, I've got to go."

"Travel safely, Captain. The deserts of Katapesh are unforgiving."

"No more so than the sea, Lord Astrus." He left the tent hoping that he'd done the right thing.

∗ ∗ ∗

An unexpected knock on the door startled Vreva from her meticulous work. Her hand slipped, and the pestle she was using to crush dried bittersweet leaves cracked against the mortar. Some of the fine powder spilled out.

"Damn it!" She put down her tools and shot Saffron a glance. "See who that is, would you, love?"

*How about I smell who that is.*

As Saffron hopped down from the arm of the couch and trotted to the door, Vreva draped a cloth over the mortar and pestle and pulled off her gloves and apron. The small workbench she used to mix her poisons, drugs, oils, and elixirs was cunningly crafted to slide out of sight at a moment's notice. Pushing it into its nook, she closed the concealing panel. No one would ever know it was anything other than part of the wall.

Saffron sniffed at the crack beneath the door and meowed, *It's the inquisitor!*

What the hell is Zarina doing here?

It was barely midmorning, and the inquisitor never arrived without sending a messenger first or prearranging her visit. Vreva could think of several reasons she might arrive unannounced, few of them good. She quickly rumpled her hair, disarranged her robe, and hurried to the door. She flipped the bolt and pulled open the heavy portal, adopting a breathless air.

"Zarina! What a lovely surprise!" She brushed her hair off her face and straightened her robe. "I must look an absolute wreck!"

"You look beautiful, as always." Zarina entered, but without their customary kiss of greeting. "I apologize for coming unannounced, but I have to speak with you."

Vreva could tell at once that something was amiss. Beads of sweat dotted the inquisitor's forehead, and her face was flushed. The back of Vreva's neck tickled in warning.

"There's no need to apologize. I don't have any appointments this morning. I was just doing my exercises." She closed the door and reached for the bell pull. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"No, thank you. I've had too much coffee already." Zarina's words were clipped. She strode to the middle of the room and started pacing, her steps quick enough to jingle her chainmail.

"What's wrong, Zarina? You seem upset." Vreva went to the sideboard and poured two tumblers of water. Her visitor's manner did not bode well, and Vreva didn't like the burr of unease in her voice. Could Zarina have discovered something? Was she about to confront her with her treachery? The courtesan added a twist of lime and a dash of bitters to each glass, thinking of her stock of poisons beneath the sideboard.

"I received a message from Katapesh last night."

"Oh? About what?" She offered Zarina one of the tumblers and sipped from her own.

"Pactbroker Sayyid insists I return to Katapesh at once. He wants to speak to me about my efforts here." Zarina downed her water in one long pull. "Mmm, that's good. I've been rushing around all morning making preparations. My ship departs in two hours, but I needed to see you before I left."

"How long will you be away?"

"A week, perhaps two." She put down her glass and began pacing again.

"Two weeks ..." Vreva longed to find out why a simple trip to Katapesh would upset the inquisitor so, but knew that might sound too curious. She settled on a more personal approach. "So, will you miss me?"

"Of course. You know I will." Zarina's voice sounded strained.

"How much?" Vreva teased, trying to lighten the inquisitor's mood.

"Vreva, I ..." Zarina clenched her hands before her hard enough to whiten her knuckles.

This is serious. Vreva flashed a covert danger signal to Saffron. He acknowledged the message with a shake of his tail, and leapt to the back of the couch where he could spring if Vreva needed a distraction.

"Zarina, you're shaking." Vreva set her glass down and grasped the inquisitor's hands in hers. "What's wrong with a trip to Katapesh? Surely you'll be coming back."

"I pray to Abadar that I will. The Pactmasters won't abandon the investigation, but Pactbroker Sayyid will not be happy with my report. I've been here weeks, and I'm no closer to finding Templeton's accomplice than when I arrived."

"Not for lack of effort." Vreva kneaded the strong fingers reassuringly. "You've been tireless in your investigation."

"Not exactly tireless." Zarina withdrew her hands and turned away. "I'm worried that my ...time with you might have drawn attention. If Sayyid has found out that we've been ..."

"Is that what's worrying you?" Vreva gently turned the inquisitor to face her, brushing Zarina's cheek with her fingertips. "As far as I'm concerned, Inquisitor Capoli, you've been interrogating me relentlessly at every single one of our meetings."

"You don't understand!" Zarina gripped Vreva's shoulders hard. "If Sayyid asks me about our relationship, I'm bound to answer him truthfully. I signed a contract ratified by the Priesthood of Abadar. A binding contract."

Vreva fought to remain composed as she stood in the inquisitor's grasp, caught so tightly she couldn't break free. "No, I don't understand. Is an inquisitor not allowed to have a relationship while she's conducting an investigation? I don't see the harm. Every single time we've met, we've discussed your work, and I've provided you with information."

"Yes, right before we fall into bed." Zarina released her grasp and turned away.

What is she so afraid of? Vreva tried another tack. "Your contract is with the Pactmasters, but your devotion is to Abadar. Surely he wouldn't disapprove of his inquisitor finding pleasure in the course of her work."

"No, He wouldn't. He doesn't, but ..."

"But what, Zarina? What can the Pactbroker find wrong with you having a relationship?"

"It's not the relationship that's the problem, Vreva. It is the person I'm having that relationship with. The Pactbroker may accuse me of sleeping with a suspect."

"A suspect?" Vreva went cold. She'd thought herself above suspicion, convinced that she had the inquisitor in the palm of her hand. Snatching up their glasses, she walked to the sideboard, one deliberate step after another. If this went badly, Zarina couldn't leave here alive. The thought pained her, and she found herself trying to reconcile the decision. It's my life or hers.

Vreva covertly opened the hidden niche and reached for a vial as she poured water into their glasses. In a sad tone, she said, "I thought you knew me better than that, Zarina."

She flicked opened the top and tilted the vial toward Zarina's glass.

"I do know you better!" The vehemence in Zarina's voice stayed Vreva's hand. "I don't consider you a suspect. After we first met aboard the Bloody Scourge, I asked around about you. You did know Templeton. Everyone denied that you could ever do such a thing. Then I met you here, and realized that they were right."

Vreva breathed deep with relief. She returned the vial unused to its cubby, left the glasses sitting on the sideboard, and turned back to Zarina. "So tell the Pactbroker that I'm not a suspect."

"He wouldn't believe me."

"And why does it matter what he believes?"

Zarina groaned as if Vreva's words were knives in her flesh. "His beliefs matter because I have a contract to fulfill, a duty to perform." She approached Vreva, her features fixed in anguish. "If Sayyid accuses me of neglecting my duty, and insists that I end our relationship, I have no choice! I must ...end it. If I don't, he'll charge me with breach of contract, and have me replaced."

"That's ridiculous!" A new inquisitor could be disastrous. "I thought I was helping you, not hindering."

"You do distract me." Zarina's voice cracked with emotion. "Our time together ...what I feel for you ...has changed me, Vreva. All I can think about is your mouth on mine, your hands touching me. I close my eyes, and I see your face. I pray to Abadar, and I hear your voice answering."

Vreva opened her mouth, but could think of no words to answer Zarina's declaration. She'd heard similar from drunken slavers or lustful captains, but never with such conviction. The emotion in Zarina's revelation set her pulse pounding in her ears. Love ...Calistria save me. She marshaled her nerves. A long moment passed before she could speak again, but when she did, it was with a voice as strong and sharp as steel.

"You say that I distract you from your duty, but ask yourself this, Inquisitor Capoli: where would your investigation be if you had not asked me for help?"

"I ...I don't know." Confusion vied with distress on Zarina's face.

"Would you have collected half as much information about the interplay of power, money, and influence in the Fleshfairs, if you hadn't worked with me?"

"Probably not."

"Have you not gained valuable insights through the information I've provided to you?"

"Of course I have, but ...what if Sayyid—"

"Shhh." Vreva pressed two fingers to the inquisitor's lips and lowered her voice to a husky whisper. "All you have to do is report the truth. We've done nothing wrong. They must realize that our relationship provides more help to your investigation than hindrance. If Sayyid is so foolish as to order you to leave me, I daresay we'll both weep, but worrying about it will do no good."

"I ...suppose that's true." Zarina's eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Of course it's true, but regardless of what happens later, there is one thing we can do now."

"What?"

"We can make this moment seem like a lifetime."

The tears spilled, and Vreva brushed them away. Zarina heaved a deep, ragged breath and, finally, her lips twitched into a sorrowful smile. "I love you, Vreva Jhafae."

"And I, you, Zarina Capoli." The truth, or a lie? As Zarina pulled her close, and their lips met in a desperate kiss, Vreva realized that she truly didn't know.

Chapter Eleven

The Lure of Sea and Stars

Why do only some galaxies take the spiral form?" Celeste moved her point of magnification to the right and scratched down another set of coordinates. In her view, the two interacting spiral galaxies shone against the heavens, arms glittering with stars arcing out from brilliant hubs.

"You ask questions for which there are no answers, Celeste." Astrus shifted as he peered at the spot she'd magnified. "There could be a thousand possible explanations, from physical forces like gravity, or the rotational effect that makes water swirl down a drain, to the will of some capricious god."

"There are answers, Astrus." She completed a sketch of the two dancing galaxies. Although she was learning much from Astrus, his condescending attitude and reticence to share had worn thin. "We may not know them, but there is an answer to every question one can pose."

"You press the bounds of science and enter the realm of philosophy."

"I don't think so. If you don't ask questions, how can you ever expect to learn?" Celeste shifted the focus again until a lone galaxy shone bright in her sight. This one was strangely shaped, one of its arms warped in a tighter curve than the other. "For instance, this galaxy appears lopsided. What might cause this perturbation?"

"I've seen this before. I have theories, but nothing to substantiate them."

"You're too cautious." Celeste waited a long moment, but he remained silent. She had shared with him all she knew of cometary motion and celestial navigation, but he continued to hoard his own knowledge. "Are you afraid I'll ridicule your theories?"

"No. I just don't want to lead you astray. My opinions are not facts. We must all formulate our own theories from the evidence we gather."

"I disagree." She sketched the warped galaxy and jotted down its coordinates. "Just as your suggestion that we coordinate our resources to better defend the Observatory was a wise one, pooling knowledge is key to the development of more robust theories. Torius always says that two heads are better than one."

Astrus shifted again, staring up at the asymmetrical galaxy. "Torius is a typical human, concerned only with his own gain. He uses you to further his own ends, Celeste. This is as clear as the stars in the sky."

"On that, I can assure you that you're mistaken, Astrus!" Celeste rose up onto her coils, her view of the heavens dashed in her annoyance. She tolerated the other naga's maligning of humans in an effort to keep the peace, but this disparagement of Torius was too much. "Torius has saved my life on multiple occasions, at great risk to his own safety."

"Because you're valuable to him as a navigator."

She had had enough of his bigoted attitude. It was time he really understood how different their views on humans were. "No, he did it because we love one another."

Astrus reeled back, flaring his upper body, his expression of bemusement devolving into one of shock.

"That surprises you?"

"It more than surprises me, Celeste. It ...It's ...aberrant."

Celeste shuddered in anger. "Our arrangement to share knowledge does not give you the right to judge me."

"I'm not judging you, Celeste. I'm just worried that this human might be clouding your mind with some type of magic. Are you sure he's not—"

"The only magic Torius has used on me is honesty and devotion."

"Devotion?" Astrus's lips curled in a sneer. "I hardly call it devoted to consign you to my care and traipse off without even a backward glance."

"Your care?" She bristled again. "What makes you think for a moment that I need your care, Astrus?"

"Your Captain came to me before he left and asked me to look after you."

"What?" Celeste shook her head. Torius would never do that. He knew full well that she could take care of herself. But why would Astrus lie to her about this? "I don't believe you!"

"It's no secret that he visited my tent just before he left. Ask your people." Astrus swayed in the naga equivalent of a shrug. "Perhaps this human is not as enamored of you as you are of him."

"You're wrong, Astrus. Torius and I—"

A piercing note shattered the quiet night—the wail of the conch horn from the lookout stationed on the nearby rocky outcrop.

"The alarm!" Her argument with Astrus forgotten, Celeste heard the shouts of the sentries posted around the camp as they called all to arms. A flare of orange caught her eye as several fire arrows arced toward the camp. Most landed without effect, snuffing out in the dry soil, but a few struck true, igniting two tents and a heap of canvas-covered supplies.

"Where—" Celeste scanned the darkness in the direction of the attack. She spied the glow of a torch and saw a few figures loping through the brush. She shook her head, perplexed. "There are too few for a real assault."

A howling cry of mayhem sounded from the opposite direction, solving the mystery. The few words she understood screamed for blood, destruction, and death. Now she saw them, figures large and small, charging through the scrubby brush—not toward the camp, but toward the Observatory.

"Brigid Zelegan!" Astrus spat the name like a curse. "She means to fulfill her demented prophecy!"

Celeste hissed as she reared up. The Observatory was unique in the world, its value inestimable. She could not allow it to be destroyed by some lunatic. "Alert the defenders, Astrus! The arrows were a distraction! We've got to prevent them from reaching the Observatory!"

"Celeste! No! Let the humans fight! We need to—"

Celeste didn't hear what Astrus thought they needed to do. She launched herself off the platform and slithered straight at the onrushing cultists, a blinding bolt of crackling electricity streaking out before her. The bolt cut a line through the murderous throng, scattering foes in gobbets of charred meat. The attackers slowed their headlong charge, close enough now that Celeste could see them clearly, a motley assortment of humans, hyenafolk, the little dog-gremlins called pugwampis, and half-breeds of all types. They shuffled forward, glaring dubiously at her as she reared high on her coils, alone and unafraid of their superior numbers.

Now that I've got your attention.

Hissing and writhing her coils, Celeste shimmered her scales. The pearlescent glow rivaled the moon itself, drawing every eye. The creatures stumbled to a halt, staring at her in rapt awe. Several shook off the hypnotic effect, but still appeared daunted by the display. Celeste hoped they stayed that way long enough for help to arrive. Far behind her, shouts rang out, and she heard Dukkol bellow, "Stargazers!"

A feral roar shook the air, and a tall figure shoved forward from the rear of the enemy.

Brigid Zelegan. The priestess of Rovagug towered over her adherents, the light of Celeste's shimmering scales glittering from hundreds of small metal skulls that dangled from her leather armor.

"Kill the serpent!" The priestess glared at Celeste with eyes that seemed to focus on a world beyond Golarion, beyond sanity.

Celeste continued to writhe, maintaining her hypnotic hold over those in the fore, and those behind still seemed reluctant to push ahead. Zelegan pointed her axe at the ground between them and spat out an unholy invocation as if the very words burned her mouth. Though Celeste couldn't understand the spell, she recognized the language as the tongue of demons. The very air between them trembled and stretched until, with a sharp rending sound, a black void opened.

The creature that stepped through looked like an emaciated humanoid, save for a wedge-shaped head, a single hook-like horn, and a whip of a tail. Celeste wrinkled her nose at the stench of the acrid exudate that dripped from its taut, leathery skin to hiss and smoke on the ground. Considering the creatures deadly claws and teeth, the spear it held in one hand seemed superfluous.

A demon! Celeste watched nervously as it turned to the priestess. No words passed between the two, but there was obviously some kind of communication. Zelegan waved her axe at the encampment, then pointed it directly at Celeste. The demon turned its head to survey the camp before focusing on Celeste. Its lips curled back from rows of needle teeth, and it nodded once to Zelegan.

Celeste didn't know what this creature was capable of, and wasn't about to wait around to find out. She stopped writhing her coils and cast forth another blinding bolt of lightning.

The demon vanished. Destroyed or sent back to wherever it came from, she couldn't tell, but there was nothing left. The spear of electricity struck Zelegan as well, but Rovagug's priestess stood unaffected, a spider web of blue-white radiance arcing between the little metal skulls that adorned her armor. Only the troops behind the priestess suffered, several blasted into piles of blackened flesh. Zelegan snarled in rage and hurled vile epithets at her followers.

The followers of Rovagug charged.

Before Celeste could cast another spell, however, agony lanced through her back. Twisting her sinuous body, she struck reflexively at her covert assailant. Somehow, the demon had gotten behind her. Her mouth burned as she buried her fangs in the demon's leathery hide. She withdrew and reared back, spitting the creature's acidic slime from her blistered lips. The demon wrenched its blade from her scales and drew back for another thrust, unaffected by her poison.

Thankfully, the second thrust skittered across her thick scales without penetrating, giving her a moment to cast another spell. Twin spears of searing flame struck the demon square in the face. The foul slime bubbled and hissed, but the magic did little damage.

What in heaven and hell? Celeste curled away from a slashing sweep of its claws and slithered back. Zelegan's troops pounded up behind her, but she couldn't afford to turn her back on this demon. In desperation, she cast a flight of magical motes at it. The glowing projectiles punched through the demon's hide, the impacts spattering caustic slime and black blood.

Finally! she thought, gratified that something could hurt this creature.

The demon advanced with its spear as the battle cries of Zelegan's forces raged right behind Celeste. She was caught between two foes, with little hope of winning free.

"Fire all!"

Dukkol's shout from the Observatory platform and the buzz of airborne crossbow bolts sounded like music to Celeste's ears. Several of the bolts pierced the demon, and others zipped past to dissuade the attackers behind her. Glancing beyond the demon, she saw the Stargazers and several others lined up on the platform quickly reloading their crossbows.

Utilizing the distraction, Celeste cast a spell she rarely used. Her coils blurred into motion, propelling her around the ravening demon toward her allies. She slithered atop the Observatory platform and joined the line of Stargazers, relieved to be among friends, and satisfied that she had slowed their foes long enough for the others to form up.

She spared a glance about the platform. Beside the Stargazers stood Quizzik, the gnome Pathfinder, and his few people. Despite his short stature, the Pathfinder stood in the front line, yelling wildly at the advancing horde and clutching a pair of glass bottles. These he threw into the midst of Zelegan's forces. The resulting explosions lit the night and sent pugwampis and hyenafolk flying. Behind their line stood the two Desnan clerics, both of them chanting and clutching their glowing holy symbols. A shimmering glow spread out to engulf the rank of defenders, and Celeste felt her spirits lift.

According to the coordinated defense plan, Astrus's larger group would defend their rear, but that space was empty. Looking back toward the camp, she saw the naga's followers huddled around Astrus, advancing slowly. She wondered at their delay, then realized that the naga had taken the time to alter his form, for he appeared human even to her. Celeste's secret was out, since her illusion had lapsed, but Astrus apparently intended to keep his true nature hidden.

"Volley fire!"

At Dukkol's order, another buzzing swarm of crossbow bolts zipped into the mad priestess's howling forces. Celeste hurled a flight of magical motes at the demon, and saw a similar but lesser flight streak from well behind the defensive line—Astrus's meager contribution. Zelegan drove her troops, urging them into a blood-crazed frenzy. There would be no time for a third volley before the fiends were upon them.

"Cutlasses and boarding axes!" Celeste ordered, readying yet another spell for the demon. But as she prepared to loose her magic, the creature vanished once again. "Damn!" She twisted around to prevent another stab in the back, but the demon wasn't behind her.

"Where the hell?" Dukkol sounded worried at the demon's sudden disappearance.

"Repel boarders, Dukkol. Don't let them take the platform! I'll deal with the slime demon."

"Aye!" The dwarf drew his axe and waved his forces forward. "With me!"

As the Stargazers formed up on the edge of the platform, Celeste scanned the area between the Observatory and the encampment. There was nothing to see save Astrus advancing slowly behind his dozens of followers. Then she caught a reflection of the light of a burning tent on slimy skin. She fired off her spell, and the magical motes tore through the night—right at Astrus.

The naga's eyes widened in fear, but the missiles shot past him, missing by inches, to impact on the demon's slimy hide. Astrus turned and loosed his own spell, catching the demon right in the face. One eye blasted to bloody ruin, the demon hissed and thrust its spear, missing Astrus by a slightly wider margin than Celeste's spell. While the creature reeled back for another strike, both nagas fired off volleys of magical energy. The barrage struck unerringly, and the demon fell into a riddled heap of bone and caustic slime.

Before Celeste could breathe a sigh of relief, hideous laughter rose on the air, as if a swarm of mad imps found the demon's demise hilarious. But even as she turned to face it, a wave of terror chilled her blood.

Brigid Zelegan stood with her axe raised high while the tiny skulls on her armor cackled madly, their silvery jaws all bobbing like insane skeletal spectators enjoying the mayhem. About half of the defenders staggered back from the melee, and some even dropped their weapons. The attackers surged onto the platform in a wave of jagged blades, sharp claws, and snapping teeth.

Celeste retreated with the others, pausing only to bury her fangs in a hyena-man's furred throat. We need reinforcements! Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Astrus's forces still huddled well beyond the platform. Her fear washed away in a flood of anger.

Coward!

"Forward, Astrus!" She saw reluctance in his eyes. Shooting him a glare that would have hulled a Chelish warship, she bellowed, "Forward! Or by the stars, I'll blast you to cinders where you stand!"

Astrus gaped at her for a moment, but then gave a half-hearted order. "Forward! Defend the Observatory!" His followers obeyed, though with little enthusiasm.

Furious, Celeste turned back to the battle—and recoiled in horror. Zelegan's forces had gained a foothold on the platform, and in the fore charged a creature undergoing a dreadful transformation. Some foul magic melted its face into seething slime, tentacles, and insectile legs. Defenders reeled before the monstrosity. Celeste withstood the visceral desire to flee and called forth her own magic. Twin spears of searing flame charred the writhing visage to a crisp, and the creature fell in a smoldering heap.

Whatever it was, it's dead now!

As Zelegan's skulls ceased their hideous cackling, the chants of Hultey and Lochnal sounded forth clear and true, and once again, Celeste felt her spirits lift. Allies who had quailed under the influence of the laughter returned to the fray in force and fury.

"Stargazers, rally to me!" Celeste sent another crackling bolt of lightning through the ranks of Zelegan's troops. Quizzik the Pathfinder whooped and threw two more explosive bottles, scattering foes and lighting the night with fire. Astrus's followers arrived to bolster the defensive line, and they surged back against the assailants, forcing them off the platform.

Zelegan howled in rage and lashed her way to the fore, sweeping her foul blade back and forth without regard. She spat out another spell, and Hultey shrieked in terror. Celeste cringed as the cleric's skin morphed into silvery scales, his arms and legs shrinking to fins. He fell, thrashing at first, then flopping and gasping for breath, transformed into a fish by the vile magic. Lochnal knelt by the stricken man, unable to help as his friend slowly suffocated.

The only way to help is to kill that vile priestess! With renewed wrath, Celeste cast her lightning again, but once more, the magic harmlessly bypassed Zelegan, although it blasted and charred those behind her.

Well, if magic won't work, maybe it's time for something up close and personal!

With a quick strike, Celeste latched her fangs onto Zelegan's leg and flexed the muscles that injected her venom. The priestess shrieked a curse, calling forth an aura of dark energy that swirled around her weapon. Celeste released her grip and tried to dodge the blow, but the blade cut a shallow furrow in her scales. Though the wound was minor, the malevolence of Rovagug surged like acid through her veins. Celeste screamed and writhed in agony, even as Zelegan's dark blade rose again.

"For Stargazer!" Dukkol barreled right into the priestess, his axe cutting a gash in the skull-clad armor. Zelegan's blade fell, slicing into the dwarf's shoulder and leaving bared bone in its wake. Dukkol went down, and the priestess's voice rose in yet another plea to the Rough Beast.

Motes of energy shot past Celeste and struck the priestess squarely in the chest, knocking her back and disrupting her dire spell. Astrus seemed finally to be involved in the battle. The agony of her wound eased a trifle, and Celeste coiled and struck again, burying her fangs in Zelegan's other leg. The priestess screamed as Celeste's venom flooded into her. She staggered back, and for the first time, Celeste saw something besides rage in those insane eyes. She saw fear.

"Forward!" Celeste hissed and coiled for another strike. "Take no prisoners!"

Dukkol struggled to his feet, one arm hanging bloody and useless, but his voice strong. "Stargazers forward!"

The combined forces surged as one, and without the impetus of their mad leader driving them on, Zelegan's battered and motley throng quailed. Several broke and ran. The priestess backed farther, but she wasn't yet finished. Thrusting the haft of her axe into the ground, she cried out to her wrathful god. As the allies surged to overwhelm their foes, the very earth beneath their feet began to shake and pitch with the fury of the Rough Beast.

Celeste's allies stumbled and fell, the momentum of their charge dissolving in a sprawling mass of flailing arms and legs. Celeste, having neither arms nor legs, had no difficulty other than being hampered by the fallen. By the time the ground stopped shaking, Zelegan and her surviving troops had fled into the night.

Curling around her wound in an attempt to stop the throbbing ache, Celeste called for aid for those worse off. Moans of pain and suffering rose on the air. Lochnal knelt beside a wounded woman and called down Desna's blessings, healing a mortal gash in her side. Others helped the injured settle themselves until care could arrive. Several were beyond aid. One of the Stargazers, a willowy young seaman named Twigs McGrue, who amused Celeste with his bawdy sea chanties, was born away by his mates, wrapped in his blood-sodden cloak.

Celeste refused a potion from Lacy Jane, insisting that Dukkol be treated first. She would heal, but if he did not receive immediate attention, his arm would never work again. Relief flooded the dwarf's features as his arm healed cleanly.

"One more, Miss Celeste." Lacy held forth a potion bottle. "Our last, and you look to be the worst off. That's a nasty gash in your back."

"Thank you." Celeste quaffed the potion and felt the pain of her wounds ebb, though it did not vanish entirely. Zelegan's vile magic had scored her deeply. "And thank you for the warning." She nodded to the conch horn on the pirate's hip. "You've got sharp eyes."

"I'm just sorry I missed the fight." Jane shrugged, moving off to help her shipmates.

Some of the others, including Lochnal and his camp followers, were astonished at her true form. Many cast nervous glances and outright stares at her, but she was too tired to care. After a few minutes, several came by with thanks. Quizzik just laughed, and asked if he might have a bit of her venom for an elixir he was working on.

Finally Astrus approached, trailed by his bodyguards. "I see now why your captain suggested I look after you. Your mad rush into the midst of a howling throng of cultists was the most reckless thing I've ever seen!"

"A little gratitude for savin' your worthless hide might—"

"Enough, Dukkol!" Celeste shared the dwarf's sentiment, but calling Astrus a coward in front of his people would do them no good. She'd know better than to expect anything from him next time, but right now, she was simply relieved that they had won. "Astrus obviously isn't used to battle, so his opinion of my tactics means nothing."

"I meant no disparagement, Celeste." Astrus gave her a courtly bow, seemingly oblivious to her veiled insult. "Please, let my people see to your wounded. Yours have done enough."

And yours have done nothing. "We'll care for our own, thank you. Stargazers stick together." She nodded to the other wounded and dead. "But there are others who could use your aid."

"Of course." He looked affronted by her refusal, but she ignored him.

Celeste turned back to the Stargazers. "Make sure everyone's injuries are tended, and bury Twigs deep. I don't want some desert scavenger digging him up."

"Aye, ma'am." Dukkol flexed his newly healed shoulder and nodded to their dead enemies. "What about that lot?"

"Pile them up and burn them."

The Stargazers followed her orders with murmurs of assent, and Celeste left them to their work. As she gazed over the carnage, she couldn't help but think that she missed Torius very, very much.

∗ ∗ ∗

"Now, there's a damn fine sight to see." Grogul grinned as they rounded the corner onto Katapesh's broad stone seawall and Stargazer's raked masts came into view.

"Aye, that it is, my friend." Torius's heart lifted like a seabird taking wing. His ship shone like a newly minted coin in the light of the afternoon sun. Her brightwork was polished, the rigging was taut and shipshape, and the sails were furled into neat bundles. "Thillion's kept the crew busy. I just hope they're not scattered all over town. I'll be glad to get underway."

"I'll be glad to get off this demon of a dromedary." Grogul shifted in his saddle and winced. "Besmara bless my aching butt, this saddle is killing me!"

Torius laughed at the thought of the goddess of pirates blessing his bosun's backside. "I can't argue with that, either."

The speed of their passage had been nothing short of miraculous. What had taken them a week to traverse with the wagon they'd managed in just three and a half very long days. The camels were exhausted, and the two pirates weren't much better. Torius tapped his camel to kneel, and eased his leg over the high saddle horn. He tied his mount to a piling, then walked stiffly down the dock toward Stargazer.

A sharp-eyed lookout cried, "It's the captain! Deck watch, call up the mate! Captain Vin and Grogul are back!" By the time they reached the gangplank, Thillion, Snick, and a host of Stargazers were there to greet them.

"Captain!" Thillion extended a hand, his expression more worried than elated. "What happened? Where're the rest of the crew?"

"Still at the Observatory." Torius unwound his head cloth and let the sea breeze ruffle his hair. Though he missed Celeste, he couldn't say that he wouldn't be happy to be back on the water. "No trouble, just a job. I'll explain once we're underway. I trust everyone's aboard and reasonably sober."

"Too sober by half!" Windy Kate chirped with a grin.

"All present and sober, sir, though there are a few hangovers." Thillion shot Windy a pointed look. "We're ready for sea, though we're not fully provisioned yet."

"No worries there. It's just a short jaunt."

"Heading, sir?"

"Northeast to Okeno."

The grumbles from the crew were low enough not to be mutinous, but loud enough for Torius to take note. He understood their concerns. Okeno meant Vreva Jhafae, and their last job from her had nearly sent Stargazer and her crew to the bottom of the Inner Sea.

"Belay that!" Grogul's tone silenced the crew. "You heard the captain! You've been lazin' around long enough! Make ready for sea! Fenric, see to our baggage, and get rid of those shaggy beasts."

"Aye, sir! What do you want me to do with 'em?"

"Cook 'em up for supper for all I care! The rest of you swabs, step lively!"

"Good to have you back, at least, Captain." Snick's comment earned a growl from the bosun.

"Good to be back." Torius tousled the gnome's hair and laughed. "Thillion, the deck's yours. I'll be in my cabin scrubbing off the desert and having a decent meal. Get us under way."

"Aye, sir!"

By the time Torius was clean, fed, and back on deck, the familiar roll of the sea was already soothing his aches and pains, and the towering black bluffs and gilded domes of Katapesh were far, far astern.

Chapter Twelve

Behind the Masks

The clatter of the morning cooking stirred Celeste from her troubled musing. The stars were fading overhead, and she'd be going to bed soon, but the scents of coffee and frying sausage drew her out of her tent.

"G'morning, Miss Celeste." Dukkol sat at their campfire stirring a huge skillet of sausage, potatoes, onions, and garlic. Beside him, Lacy Jane stared at the coffee pot as if willing it to brew faster.

"Good morning." Celeste savored the glorious aromas with a flick of her forked tongue.

"Find some new stars last night, did ya?"

"Not as many as I hoped. There's just so much to see!"

The real problem was, Celeste had been avoiding Astrus since the battle, which cut her observations in half. He'd sent word asking her to join him, but she'd claimed her wounds were bothering her. Really, she'd been trying to reconcile her feelings about the naga. His guidance had benefited her astronomical observations, and he had helped in the battle, but his disdain for others, his reluctance to offer assistance, and his selfishness bothered her. Not to mention his suggestion that she was reckless and needed looking after. She knew he was lying about what Torius had said.

Even the planets seemed to know of her pending decision. Verces and Castrovel were heading toward a rare alignment, which pointed to a choice. Do I refuse to resume my association with one of my own kind, whom I find to be a self-centered egotist, or swallow my pride and learn as much as I can?

"And why not?" Dukkol's furry eyebrows joined in a scowl. "That pretentious prig Astrus ain't givin' you trouble, is he?"

Celeste cocked her head at Dukkol. "You think he's pretentious?"

"Well, I don't know him personal-like, but with all their ‘His Lordship' this, and ‘His Lordship' that, I'm startin' to feel a keen desire to roll up His Lordship's title and stick it up his arse."

"Something about his people makes me itch." Lacy Jane fingered the frilly collar of her shirt, though her eyes never left the percolating coffee pot.

"Aye, they're a twitchy lot, all right." Dukkol gave the skillet a flip. Potatoes and onions hissed in the sausage grease. "But if you're not learnin' much, Miss Celeste, and meanin' no disrespect, then what the hell are we doin' out here?"

"I'm still learning a lot, Dukkol, just not as much as I might be working with Astrus. He's less ...generous with his expertise than I'd hoped."

"There's a surprise." Lacy Jane's lips curled into a sideways smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there ain't a generous bone in that man's body, from what his people say." Lacy's eyes flicked from the pot to Celeste and back again. "He keeps 'em on a short leash."

Celeste knew what kind of leash Astrus used to control his people, and she didn't like it. Maybe if I talked to Astrus about a few things ...She didn't relish such a conversation, but it might be necessary if she was going to make the most of her time here. "Have you seen him this morning?"

"No, but he and his people always have a little confab about this time every morning." Dukkol nodded to the naga's large black tent. "You might catch 'em all together."

"You know, that's not a bad idea." Celeste stirred her coils and firmed her resolve. "Save me a cup of coffee, Dukkol, and add some pepper sauce to my portion of the hash. I'll be right back."

"Careful, Miss Celeste. His Lordship might not like being told he's a pretentious prig to his face."

"I'll be more subtle than that, Dukkol." Flashing him a smile, she slithered off without delay.

Astrus's camp seemed quieter than usual, and there weren't any scents or sounds of morning meal preparations. How had she not noticed this odd behavior before? Sleeping after a long night, or turning a blind eye to what is really going on. Suspecting that this "meeting" that Astrus conducted every morning was the distribution of the hallucinogenic and addictive venom-alcohol mixture, she surrendered to her curiosity. Quietly, she slithered up to the back of the tent and listened.

From within, she heard a beseeching voice. "Please, milord, I appreciate your aid, with my poor master dead and all, but I don't wish no part of this. I'll pay back what I owe you for the healing, but Master Hultey's lock box was broken into, and everything was stolen. It held the gold I was to be paid for this trip."

What's this? After Master Hultey's unfortunate demise, his people were cast adrift. Celeste assumed that they would split up their master's goods and go their own ways. Instead, it seemed that someone had pilfered Hultey's chest. Celeste knew the thief wasn't a Stargazer. They might be pirates, but they maintained a certain code of honor. Robbing an ally after a battle was unthinkable.

Fearing the worst, Celeste glanced around. Seeing that she was alone, she whispered a spell and vanished from sight. She rounded the corner of the tent, slithering as silently as possible, careful not to alert the two guards posted at the entrance. Their heads were down, however, their eyes drooping. Apparently the watch hadn't changed yet. Inching forward, she slithered between them, widened the gap in the tent flap with a flick of magic that looked like a rustle of morning breeze, and slipped inside. A tapestry formed a wall between the entry and the tent's lamplit main room. She eased forward to peer around it.

The man from Hultey's company stood wringing his hands in the center of Astrus's followers. Before him stood Astrus, though Celeste was able to pierce his illusion quickly now, so that he coiled within his illusory human form. Usually his illusion was pretty benign, but today he seemed darker, taller, and more imposing.

"Help me understand this, friend Eutep." Astrus wagged an illusory finger in the air, as if contemplating a puzzle. "My cleric healed your wounded leg after the battle, since Master Lochnal was already exhausted tending the more grievously wounded. You admit that you have no funds for payment, and when I offer to bring you under my protection and expunge your debt, you refuse?"

"It's not like that, milord. I'm willing to work off my debt to you, but I want no part of this elixir of yours. I don't know what it'll do to me, and I don't care to find out." A murmur rumbled through the amassed followers. A sheen of nervous sweat dampened Eutep's brow, and his eyes flicked around like a pair of rats looking for an escape.

"It's a gift, Eutep!" Astrus smiled and spread his arms as if to embrace his followers. "The elixir will make you a member of our family, and imbue you with visions of the greatness that you may achieve in my service. If you wish to work for me, you agree to accept this gift. You know that Lochnal and Quizzik have no means to employ you. Your only other option is to take your chances in the desert."

"I'll take my chances then." Eutep clenched his jaw, his resolve firming despite his fear. "I've got a camel. All I need is some water, and I can—"

"I'm sorry, Eutep, but without any means to pay for my services, your possessions are forfeit. Your camel now belongs to me, and you can't expect me to provide you with water when you have no payment. If you head into the desert now, you'll die. Take heart. Once you've worked off your debt to me, you'll be free to leave. But until then ..."

Celeste's gaze was drawn by the movement of Hashi. He carried a silver ewer and small cup. Stopping at each of the followers in turn, he poured a small amount of liquid into the cup and offered it to them. They drank it down eagerly, licking their lips to savor every last drop. Eutep watched them warily and shook his head.

"I'll ask one of the others for help. You'll excuse me, milord." Eutep turned toward the exit, but Astrus's followers closed in around him. Before the poor man could even cry out in surprise, they had him on his knees, his head pulled back by the hair so that his mouth gaped upward.

"No! Please!"

"You're going to take my gift, Eutep. I will not have my generosity flouted!" Astrus nodded to Hashi.

Those who held Eutep grasped his head and held his nose, and Hashi poured the cloudy liquid into the man's mouth, forcing him to swallow or drown. Eutep coughed and spat, but the procedure continued until the ewer ran empty. Celeste wrinkled her nose as she recognized the smell: a mixture of fruit juice, alcohol, and lunar naga venom, similar to the concoction they'd used to affect the mind of Benrahi Ekhan. Such a huge dose would throw the poor man into a torpor of hallucinatory intoxication, and he would emerge hopelessly addicted to the venom.

Bile burned the back of Celeste's throat. Swallowing her revulsion, she crept out of the tent. The cool morning air refreshed her, but she couldn't blot from her mind the scene she had witnessed. She'd known Astrus controlled his people with his venom, but this ...This was no less than slavery, except Astrus chained his followers with a drug instead of shackles.

Celeste slithered behind a thicket of sage and retched into the dry soil.

∗ ∗ ∗

"Hold still, my love."

Saffron's tail lashed, but he held his paw still and endured Vreva's attention. *Are you sure about this?*

"I'm sure." She dabbed the tiny brush into a vial of sea-urchin-spine toxin, touched it to the underside of Saffron's claws, then blew on them until the tincture dried. "Now, be careful with that paw. No licking and no scratching."

He gave the paw an involuntary shake and lashed his tail again. *I know the drill, Vreva. It's not like I've never poisoned anyone before.*

"I know, my love, but this is different." Capping the vial, she tucked it away in its hiding place. She'd hidden a few other envenomed items around the apartment as well. "Torius Vin isn't some flabby slaver. He's a pirate, skilled with a blade, and one of the most suspicious people I know. If he reacts to my offer the wrong way, we're going to have to kill him quickly."

*All right, but I hope you've got a plan to dispose of the body this time.* Saffron hopped up onto the arm of the divan and curled his venomous paw under him. *The last time we killed someone, the body started to smell before we finally slipped him into the sewer.*

"That was years ago, Saffron!" And one of the few times Vreva had killed to maintain her cover. Fortunately, she had delved the galley captain's thoughts when he came by for one last tumble before relating his suspicions to the Okeno Guard. Killing him had been easy, and disturbingly gratifying.

Calistria's sweet revenge ...

Killing Torius would be a different matter. She rather liked him. Just the fact that he had considered her appeal important enough to arrive so quickly was touching, but she couldn't allow sentiment to threaten her safety. If she detected even one thought about selling her out, she would have no choice.

Even though she'd been expecting it, Vreva started when the brass clapper cracked three times on her door. She'd had word that Stargazer had docked, giving her just enough time to complete her preparations for his visit. Swallowing the butterflies that had migrated from her stomach up to her throat, she walked to the door.

"Ready, my love?"

*Ready.* Saffron licked his nose and yawned, showing his fangs.

"Remember, not unless I say."

*Yes, I do remember that bit.* He flipped his tail in annoyance.

Vreva stared at the door and cast the spell that would allow her to delve his thoughts. Only one mind greeted her from beyond the door. Good. At least he's alone. She opened the door and gave him a businesslike smile. "Torius. Thank you for coming so quickly. Please come in."

"We were on vacation, I'll have you know." He swaggered in, his eyes lingering on her in passing. She scrutinized him as well. He wore a different sword, and his mustache had almost grown back to its former luxuriant length. "You can apologize to Celeste sometime, but I'll warn you, she won't be quite as forgiving as me."

"I am sorry, but this was too important to wait, and frankly, I didn't know who else to ask." She closed the door and went to the sideboard, focusing on his thoughts. "Can I get you something to drink? Wine, or spiced rum?"

"Wine, please." Who the hell is this, and what's she done with Vreva Jhafae?

The thought didn't surprise her. She wore a simple dress, no jewelry or makeup, and her hair pulled back in a straight queue. She moved deliberately, without her usual courtesan's grace and elaborate gestures. This was a Vreva Jhafae Torius had never met. She had to make him see beyond her mask for him to believe the truth.

What did surprise her was that his mind was relatively open to her probing. Prior to their last venture, he'd always been closed to her, an impenetrable roil of suspicion and hostility. I guess I finally earned his trust ...to a certain extent anyway. She poured two glasses of red wine and handed him one.

"Does my appearance surprise you?"

"Am I that easy to read?" Torius sipped his wine. "Remind me never to play cards with you." Or any other game for that matter. What game is she playing now?

"Torius, I'm going to be completely honest with you for the very first time." She took a sip of wine and a deep breath. "I wanted you to see me like this, because this is who I really am. Vreva Jhafae the courtesan is a lie. She's a role that I've played for a very long time." She paused for a moment, listening mentally.

What the hell is she talking about?

"You need to know something about me—the real me—to understand what I'm going to ask you to do." He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him with a raised hand. "Please let me explain." His thoughts had begun to roil, and she couldn't pick out anything lucid. She couldn't let him shut her out. Too much depended on this. "The business proposition I have for you is different from anything else I've ever proposed. It would bring you into my closest confidence, which is not something I am very comfortable with." She flashed a rueful smile. "You would be well paid, but you'd also be in great danger if my operation, or your involvement with my ...employers, was ever discovered."

She paused again and listened.

What nonsense is this? Vreva didn't need to read his thoughts to see his skepticism, but was relieved at the clarity of his incredulity. "I ...don't know what to say. What's this business proposition, and who are your employers? And what the hell do you mean by ‘the real you'?"

Vreva sighed. This wasn't going well. She had to make her argument more convincing. "Perhaps showing you what I really am would be more convincing than telling you." This meant temporarily dropping her ability to read his thoughts, but it was a risk she had to take.

*Uh-oh, here we go!*

Vreva ignored Saffron and cast a spell, concentrating on her memories of Celeste in her human shape. She obviously succeeded, if Torius's reaction was any indication.

"What the hell is this? Some new seduction?" Torius slammed his glass down on the table, and she realized she'd chosen poorly.

"No, Torius. I'm just trying to make a point." Casting the spell again, she now stood before him in the semblance of his bosun, Grogul. "How many courtesans do you know who can do this? I can take on many guises, or become nothing at all." She cast yet another spell and vanished completely.

"What game are you playing, Vreva?" His voice was hard, and when his hand went for the hilt of his sword, she backed quietly away until she felt the sideboard behind her.

Vreva recast her thought-reading spell and withdrew the poisoned dagger she'd secreted under the sideboard's molding. "It's no game, Torius. It's deadly serious." Vreva put her wineglass down. As she knew it would, the glass's sudden appearance drew Torius's attention. From the corner of her eye, she saw Saffron's tail twitch as he raised his rump in preparation to spring at her command. He knew that Torius's next response would mean life or death for the pirate captain. "My true vocation is a gatherer of information. These other skills—courtesan, spellcaster—are just the means by which I accomplish that. You ask who my employers are? Answer your own question. Who would put someone with my skills in Okeno, the center of the slave trade for the entire Inner Sea? Who would want information about slavers? Who in the world would put a spy into their midst?"

"Andoran!" He stared wide-eyed at the sound of her voice, his thoughts an impenetrable storm of suspicion. "You're telling me that you're a spy for Andoran?" His hand remained on his sword hilt.

"Exactly right, Torius. I'm spying for Andoran. The slavers that you believe to be my friends are actually my targets. The information I pry from them helps Andoran plot new ways to disrupt the slave trade. Unfortunately, the slavers recently discovered and executed my intermediary. Consequently, I need a new one. Someone with a ship who despises slavers as much as I do. Someone I can trust." Of course, she couldn't tell him she was a Twilight Talon—not yet. She might be able to refute an accusation of spying from a pirate, but if someone pointed a finger and said ‘Twilight Talon,' whoever received that accusation was as good as dead. She wouldn't tell him that secret until he was committed, and had just as much to lose as she did.

Vreva peered into his mind, her dagger poised. She fought through the confusion of Torius's thoughts until one rang out clearly. What she heard caught her off guard.

Is today the day?

The day for what? she wondered, as she watched the expression on his face shift from doubtful to considering. His hand drifted away from his sword. Torius picked up his wineglass, drained it in one gulp, and strode to the sideboard to pour more.

"Cancel your spells, Vreva. I want to see your face when you tell me exactly what you expect from me."

Vreva searched his thoughts hard for any hint of betrayal. She heard only, Could it be true? Could this be the day? She still couldn't trust him fully. Lack of trust was the only reason she was still alive after all these years.

"Very well." She tucked the envenomed dagger into a pocket of her dress before materializing. She picked up her wineglass and gestured toward the divan. "I have a lot to tell you. Please, let's sit down." Vreva took one end of the plush seat, while he took the other. Saffron climbed atop the back of the divan and perched just behind Torius, ready to lash his poisoned claw at the vulnerable nape of the captain's neck if things went awry.

"So, I'd be a delivery boy between you and your ...employers in Andoran?"

"It's a bit more complex than that, given your current occupation." She continued to monitor his surface thoughts, ready to give Saffron the word if he considered betraying her.

Torius barked a laugh. "No kidding! Andorens don't like pirates, in case you hadn't noticed. I've been dodging the Gray Corsairs for as long as I've been sailing!"

"Fortunately, your acts of piracy aren't openly known. Both here and in Katapesh, you're only known as a merchant captain, which will work nicely for you to come and go. As far as Andoran is concerned, you'd be provided with a letter of marque from the Office of Privateering Actions."

"A legal pirate, eh?"

"A privateer. You'd be able to legally attack any slave galley or pirate ship, anywhere. You'd be paid a bonus for each ship taken, prize money for each hull delivered intact to Almas, and head money for every slave freed. But privateering would merely be a front for your real job, a means for you to frequent Almas. Beneath that deception, you'd be serving as my intermediary, delivering my reports to Andoran and returning with the supplies that I require."

Torius stared at her, his brow furrowed. She's not telling it all. "But ...I hear a definite ‘but' in there."

"But ...the caveat being that you commit no acts of open piracy."

"I knew there was a catch."

"The pay will be generous, and just think about how good it would feel to strike back at the slavers you despise so."

"Good feelings won't feed my crew." Despite his verbal contention, Torius's mind was filled with encouraging thoughts—This could be the day! A chance to hit those bastards where it hurts!—and Vreva dared to hope.

"Money will not be a problem. Any other questions?"

"Damn right I've got questions! You'll excuse me, but I'm a little taken by the lee." Torius stood and began to pace. Saffron tensed, but Vreva settled him down with a covert shake of her head. "You mentioned that your former intermediary was executed. What happened?

"He was headstrong and foolish. He played this like a game when it's deadly serious."

"Headstrong and foolish ...like me?"

Vreva shook her head. "Exactly not like you, in fact. You take risks, but they're calculated risks. As a pirate, you have to watch your back. That paranoia will serve you well if you take this job. You can never, ever let the slavers get a whiff of what you really are."

Torius seemed taken aback by her vehemence, but nodded in agreement. "Tell me more."

"There's an investigation underway here in Okeno. The Pactmasters have contracted an inquisitor of Abadar."

"The Pactmasters?" Torius stopped in his tracks and scowled. "That's a problem, Vreva. They're more tenacious than you can imagine, and they utterly control Katapesh. If I was found out, I'd never be able to go back there."

"That's a risk, but Katapesh is just one of many cities."

"Katapesh is the city where I do my banking."

"Your banking?" She couldn't believe she was hearing this from a pirate. "You have a bank account?"

"Do you think I spend all my money on rum and wenches? Yes, I have bank accounts, some investments, and some very important personal effects stored in a half-dozen caches around the city. It's my home port, Vreva, and I'd hate to be run out of it permanently."

"I understand that, Torius, but you could move your investments elsewhere."

Torius waved her on impatiently. "What about this inquisitor? Who is he and how can we get rid of him?"

We. She liked the sound of that. He might not be on board fully quite yet, but he was taking it seriously, thinking ahead, planning.

"Her name is Zarina Capoli, and she takes her duty very seriously. Fortunately, she's also fallen rather hard for me. I'm doing my best to lead her investigation astray, and it seems to be working."

He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Torius! I fail to see anything funny about this!"

"I was just remembering all the times you tried to seduce me. Were you trying to recruit me or something?"

"Not exactly. You have to understand, Torius, I use sex to get information. You intrigued me, so I tried to get you into a position where I could find out more about you."

He flashed her a rakish grin. "And which position would that be?"

"Oh, stop it!" She glared at him, but it had no effect whatsoever. He flopped back down onto the divan, still chuckling. "You were either a potential asset or a threat, and I had to know which. But now there are no more secrets, and no more seduction."

"Well, at least now I know what it was about. Celeste will never believe this." He heaved a sigh, wiping the mirthful tears from his eyes. "So, where do we go from here?"

So far, not a single thought of betrayal had entered his mind.

"I'll contact my employer tonight and have the arrangements for you in the morning. They'll want to set up a meeting before they hand over a letter of marque. You'll be escorted into Almas, where you'll be met by someone who'll give you more details, as well as payment for bringing my first delivery."

"Very well. But keep in mind that I've got to head back to Katapesh within a few weeks. I'm supposed to rejoin Celeste at the Observatory, though I daresay she wouldn't mind if I was late. It would give her more time to commune with the stars."

They both stood, and Vreva extended her hand to him. "Thank you, Torius. I must say, I'm pleased." Pleased that I didn't have to kill you.

He shook her hand and laughed. "Don't be too pleased just yet. I'm still trying to get my head around all of this. I can't promise that I'll agree until I get the whole deal. But don't worry. However this turns out, I'll keep your secrets." He swaggered to her door, then stopped, one hand on the latch, and turned back toward her. "What if I'd just said no? Would I be walking out this door?"

Oh, dear Calistria! Have I completely misjudged him? She'd let her thought-reading spell lapse. Had that been a fatal mistake? But no, she hadn't caught a single hint of betrayal. It was an honest question, and he deserved an honest answer.

Vreva slowly drew the envenomed dagger and showed it to him. "No, Torius. If you'd refused, or shown any hint that you might betray me, you wouldn't have left here alive."

He cocked an eyebrow at the dagger, and she gauged him carefully. If he reacted poorly, she still had Saffron. Then his face split into a boyish grin, and he nodded. "Good. I can't afford to work with anyone who doesn't take things seriously. Send me a messenger when you've got the details. I'll be waiting."

"I will." Vreva breathed deeply and put the dagger away. "And Torius? Be careful. Tell no one of anything we discussed."

He mimed turning a key at his lips and throwing it away, then bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

*Well, that was interesting.* Saffron stretched and flicked his tail.

"It most certainly was, my love." Vreva went to the sideboard, poured herself more wine, and drank it down. "And quite enlightening."

*Well, in your revelation, don't forget to clean that gunk out from under my claws before I forget and lick my paw.*

"Right." Vreva set down her wineglass and opened her hidden cabinet of tools. "Come here then, and hold out your paw."

Chapter Thirteen

Tenuous Associations

Celeste heard the sandpaper hiss of scales on the stone platform and steeled her nerves. She'd continued to avoid Astrus, but the stars called to her, and she had waited too long for this chance to delve the mysteries of the heavens to let the opportunity pass her by. She could avoid Astrus no longer.

"Good evening, Celeste."

"Hello, Astrus." She didn't look at him, but continued her analysis of a nebula in the Dancer constellation. Thus far she had cataloged twenty-four stars of similar size and spectral type, and was pondering explanations for their similarity.

"Your dwarf told some of my people that you were feeling better." His scales rustled in a circle around her, and still she didn't look at him. "Your wound appears to be fully healed."

"I'm fine." She sketched the positions of two more stars. Since he was here, she might as well ask him about her current conundrum. "What do you know about nebulae?"

"I've observed them extensively, but what I know about them is only theoretical." He paused in his slithering. "Is there something wrong?"

"There are many things wrong, Astrus, none of which I have any means to alter." Celeste had thought long and hard about what she'd witnessed in Astrus's tent, and finally realized that she could not confront him about it. Short of violence, there was no way she could stop what he was doing, and she wasn't prepared to go that far. "Why are the stars in this nebula all so similar? I've counted twenty-six here, and they're all blue-white and of a similar size and luminosity."

"Stars appear to be born in nebulae. It seems reasonable to assume that stars born side by side under similar circumstances will exhibit similar properties, just as the siblings from a single clutch of eggs exhibit similarities."

"Sibling stars." The idea appealed to Celeste. "Is this the only way stars are born?"

"I don't know." Astrus slithered around her again, and she felt his gaze on her. "I wish you'd tell me what's bothering you, Celeste."

"I'd rather not discuss it, Astrus. As I said, there's nothing I can do about it, so why belabor the matter?" Finished with her sketch of the star field, Celeste expanded the view to take in the entire nebula. She floated a new piece of paper up, and began sketching with various colored chalks. "I'd much rather talk about the stars."

"The stars will be there long after you and I are reduced to dust." He stopped slithering, leaning into her view so that his pale features were silhouetted by the nebula. "You're upset about something, which is a much more pressing issue. I hope my thoughtless comment about your tactics during the battle didn't offend you."

Was that an apology? If so, it was the lamest excuse for one she'd ever heard. And why the sudden concern for her state of mind? "No, Astrus. Your opinion of my tactics means nothing. You thought I was being reckless, while I believed that a direct intervention to delay Zelegan's forces was necessary."

"But you risked your life."

"So?" She did look at him now, skeptical of his worry for her life. "It's my life to risk. If I think something as marvelous as the Observatory is worth risking my life for, that's my choice."

"But that's why we have followers, Celeste. You're of more value than a gaggle of mere humans. It's their place to take the risk, to serve and protect us. It's what they're for."

"No, Astrus, it's not." Frustrated, Celeste rose on her coils, the beauty of the nebula shattered. She hadn't wanted this confrontation, but he wouldn't let the matter drop. "That's what you use your followers for. I don't have followers. I have friends and shipmates."

"How can you call such creatures your friends? They're nothing like us, Celeste! They're selfish and greedy. If you don't keep a tight rein on them, they'll betray you."

"You're wrong, Astrus, and the proof of it happened right before your eyes. Did a single one of your followers risk their lives to save you when that demon attacked you?"

"No, but that's irrelevant! They didn't know it would appear right behind me!"

"No, they didn't know, but they didn't leap to your rescue when it did, did they?"

"I don't see your point!"

"You know Dukkol, ‘my dwarf' as you refer to him. Did you see him put himself in the path of Zelegan's axe when I was in trouble?"

"I ..." His moonlit features paled to an even lighter hue. "I remember that he was injured, but I didn't see it happen."

Celeste knew his claim for a lie. Only an instant later his own spell had interrupted the dark priestess's invocation, so he had obviously been watching. She stared at him for a moment, reluctant to call him out on his blatant falsehood. He would only deny it.

"What you failed to notice was Dukkol saving my life." Her tail quivered in an involuntary display of temper. "He took the stroke that would have ended me, Astrus. Why would he do that? Why would someone not addicted to my venom, without any reason to risk his life for mine, put himself in the way of a blade for me?"

"I ...have no idea, Celeste."

"No, you don't. That's because your followers are slaves, and you truly are the slave master that I wished you weren't."

"Slave master! What are you talking about?"

"You enslave people with your venom against their will."

"I do nothing of the kind! My followers enter into my service out of devotion and a desire to serve me."

"Liar! I saw what you did to Eutep."

"You were spying on me?" He reared back, more surprise than temper in his eyes.

"Not intentionally. I came to speak with you and heard what was happening, but then I watched what you did. You made him a slave against his will, Astrus!"

To Celeste's amazement, Astrus didn't deny her accusation, but smiled wryly. "Well, there is the occasional reluctant convert." Astrus's illusory human form shrugged. "The man had nowhere else to go, and he owed me a debt. Yes, his first dose was forced, but why don't you come by tomorrow morning, at my invitation. You'll see how eagerly my followers embrace their so-called ‘slavery.' It's all part of the larger plan, Celeste. My followers take care of me, and I take care of them. Have you seen any of them go hungry or thirsty?"

"No ..." Celeste grudgingly admitted. "Are you trying to tell me that this is a mutually beneficial relationship? I don't believe that. Followers are one thing, slaves are another."

"What you call slavery, I call devotion. You and I are lunar nagas. Our thoughts should fly among the stars, not be dragged down with mundane concerns. There is a reason our venom is addictive. We were meant to have followers. The gods made us so."

"Divine ordinance is the excuse of many a petty tyrant!"

"Celeste," Astrus's voice was curious, unperturbed by her vehemence, "what were your interactions with humans and their ilk while you were growing up?"

The question startled her. "I had none. I never saw a human until I'd been out on my own for many years."

Astrus nodded. "Now I understand, and I apologize if my words or actions have seemed strange to you. You see, I recruit followers the way I do because that's what I was taught to do by my elders. I was told never to trust humanoids, and I never have. You, on the other hand, never experienced the kind of—What was your phrase for it?—mutually beneficial relationship that many lunar nagas and their followers enjoy. But I assure you, this is quite an accepted way of life among our people."

"But those ways are wrong," she insisted.

"What is right and what is wrong? These terms are relative, dependent on culture. Was I wrong to force Eutep into my service? Perhaps, but he's also alive because of me. After he works off his debt, he's free to leave ...if he still wants to."

"But he'll be addicted to your venom!"

"You told me that your Captain Vin weaned himself from your venom. Have you so little faith in humans will that you believe that others can't do the same?"

Celeste was about to argue when a memory brought her up short. Chained in a dungeon, hearing a voice, and seeing a man looking in at her. Torius ...So desperately had she longed for rescue, she'd cast a spell on him, enslaving his will so he would take her away. Was that really so bad, considering that she and Torius now loved one another? Tears of shame welled in her eyes, and she turned away. She was more like Astrus than she had believed.

Astrus slithered closer, circling Celeste as he spoke. "Why focus on our differences, Celeste? Of course we have different beliefs. Like stars born in different nebulae, we are shaped by our upbringing. Can we not, as we decided before, agree to disagree on those points? What we should focus on are our similarities. We are both observers of the cosmos. It's our calling, our passion."

Agree to disagree.

The offer loomed there, as tempting as a piece of low-hanging fruit. She didn't trust Astrus, didn't even like him—but then, she didn't have to. Taking advantage of his vast experience with the Observatory, she could learn the secrets of the cosmos by leaps and bounds, rather than piecemeal as she had been doing on her own.

Agree to disagree. "Very well, Astrus." Celeste took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to twitch her tail. "I agree to disagree on that point."

He bowed low in a parody of the typically human gesture. "Excellent! Now, may I show you another nebula that might interest you? This one also has newly birthed stars, but is distinctly different from the one you were just observing."

Celeste considered returning to her tent to think things over, but the fruit Astrus dangled before her hung there, ripe for the picking, and her hunger for knowledge remained as insatiable as ever. She stretched out on the platform and gazed into the heavens. "Show me."

∗ ∗ ∗

Damned fluky winds. Torius watched the smooth surface of the sea whip up into wavelets with an approaching gust. "Slack sheets! Gust to windward!"

He grabbed hold of the aft stay as the wind hit the ship hard enough to lay her over on her beam ends. Just as suddenly, the gust vanished. Stargazer righted herself and cruised on. The afternoon dragged in the lee of the Isle of Kortos, with shrieking gusts funneled through the high mountains interspersed with dead calms. It was a far cry from the desert siroccos screaming off of Qadira, driving them along at twelve knots and better for the past few days. And yet, the tension was not only due to the nerve-wracking winds. As they neared their destination, suspicions about Vreva's offer plagued him.

Vreva. Torius shook his head. All these years, he'd reviled her for cozying up to slavers, exchanging sex for gold earned through the blood and sweat of the innocent, much as his mother had done for her sweet pesh. To think that she's actually a spy ...

"That's our cape, isn't it, sir?" Thillion joined Torius on the quarterdeck, ready for his pending watch.

"Yes." Torius kept his eyes on the sea.

"And this ship we're meeting is already there?"

"Supposed to be." Torius spared Thillion a glance. The elf was fiddling with his puzzle chain, deep in thought. Torius couldn't blame him. The secrets he'd kept at Vreva's behest were icing on an already suspiciously sweet cake. He'd only told them he was considering a dangerous job that would pay well. When he had all the details about the letter of marque, he would reveal the offer, gauge their responses, and make a decision. The rest, working as Vreva's intermediary, he intended to keep close to his vest until they needed to know.

Besides, how was I supposed to tell them that we're meeting with a Gray Corsair?

When he went back to Vreva's the following day to get the details of the arrangement, and she told him who he would be meeting, he'd jumped up off of Vreva's divan as if he had sat on a tack. The naval arm of the Steel Falcons was legendary, not only for its relentless pursuit of slave ships, but also for its persecution of pirates. They were some of the hardest fighters and finest sailors in any navy.

"Oh, relax, Torius," Vreva had assured him. "The Gray Corsair captain will tell you what you can expect, and what's expected of you as a privateer. They want to size you up before you meet Admiral Weathers, who heads up the Office of Privateering Actions. But be careful. Neither the Gray Corsairs nor Admiral Weathers will know about your assignment as my intermediary. That must remain a secret, even from Andoran's own military. If too many people know what you are, there's the threat of a leak, and that would be lethal. Once you receive your letter of marque, you'll be contacted by an operative of my organization." She would give no more details until he had committed himself and his ship to her cause, and before he could do that, he had to impress a Gray Corsair captain.

Eight bells struck just as another gust urged Stargazer closer to the cape, and the watch changed.

"Your watch, Thillion, but I'll stay on deck until we meet our contact." He nodded to the tousled sea beyond the cape. "Looks like we'll be getting our wind back soon."

"Aye, sir." Thillion took his customary station near the wheel and observed the change of the watch with professional interest. "Any precautions?"

"Hell yes! Send for Snick and Grogul. We should be ready for a fight, but I don't want to look like it, if you know what I mean." There was that lingering suspicion, after all.

"I know exactly what you mean, sir." Thillion grinned and called the bosun's mate aft. "Fenric, send for the bosun and the engineer. We'll bear up as we round the point, so furl the squares, and rig main staysails."

"Aye, sir!" Fenric squinted at the wind-tossed sea beyond the cape. "Reef in the main, sir?"

"No. We'll spill wind if we have to, but I want all the speed we can muster if we need it."

"Aye, sir! Fenric relayed the orders, and the topmen swarmed aloft to make the changes in sail

"Mind your sheets, Fenric!" Thillion called out as the rippled water approached. "Bring her up as close as she'll bear as we round the cape, Windy."

"Aye, sir!"

"Colors, sir?" Fenric asked.

Thillion raised one eyebrow and looked to Torius. "Captain?"

Stargazer carried flags for every nation bordering the Inner Sea, but Torius wasn't interested in such a ruse this time. "We'll keep the Katapesh colors aloft for now."

"Aye, sir."

"And I'm telling you to keep the crew away from those things!" Snick's shrill tone cut through the wind like a knife, drawing Torius's attention to the stairs to the main deck. "They're not full of alcohol, and if they pop a cork, they'll be sorry!"

Snick and Grogul ascended to the quarterdeck, an incongruous pair at any time, even more so now. The gnome's face was flushed pink with ire, while Grogul looked more chagrined than intimidating.

"I'll tell 'em, but maybe we should lock the things up just to be safe."

"Locking something up just tells everyone that it's something they might want to poke their noses into! Trust me on that!"

"Trouble?"

They both saluted to Torius's question.

"Not really, sir." Snick made a face. "Some of the crew seem to think those new warheads are actually liquor bottles disguised so they won't mess with 'em. If they pry the caps out of those incendiaries ..."

"No worries, sir. I'll give 'em the word."

"Tell them the truth, Grogul. That ought to scare the thirst right out of them." Torius pointed to the upcoming cape. "When we round that point, we're going to meet up with another ship. They're supposed to be friendly, but we won't know until we get close."

"Meanin' this could be another double cross."

"I don't think so, Grogul, but I don't want to bet my life on it. Let's look as harmless as we can, but be ready for a fight. Got it?"

"Got it, sir!" Snick grinned and scampered off with a quick salute. "I better get to work!"

"All steel, no swagger. I'll tell the crew." Grogul left, and in short order the preparations were underway. Weapons were stowed out of sight but within easy reach, grapples coiled behind the bulwarks, and fire buckets filled and ready. The main hatch cover was replaced with a grating so orders could be relayed to Snick belowdecks.

As they rounded the cape, the wind increased sharply. Stargazer heeled and surged forward, her bow rounding up into the wind. Windy Kate let her come up as close as she would lie without luffing and held her steady. Torius took a deep breath. This was it. He was committing himself on the word of a courtesan-turned-spy who had already betrayed them once. The cove opened up off their starboard bow.

To an untrained eye, the galleon anchored there looked like a large, well-appointed merchantman, her three masts all rigged with perfectly squared yards. Through Torius's best spyglass, the ship's true nature became clear.

"She's ready for trouble." Thillion squinted through his own glass.

"That she is, and she's half again our length and four times our tonnage." Torius swept his glass from bow to stern, noting the orderly configuration of lines and blocks, the array of strategically placed barrels around the deck—weapon caches, no doubt—and the canvas-covered lump on the foredeck that might pass for deck cargo, but looked suspiciously like a catapult. Unlike Snick's masterful joinery, which rendered Stargazer's firing ports virtually invisible, the outlines of the galleon's firing ports were clearly visible to Torius's trained eye. Though none of her deck crew wore uniforms, they stood with military precision and bearing. "Twelve ports along her sides. That's twice our armament, and probably many times our numbers. We do not want to start a fight with that ship, Thillion."

"Aye, sir, but we could sail circles around her on any point of wind." The elf grinned, and Torius wondered what he was thinking. "I'm just saying, sir, if we have to ..."

"Right." Torius thought that perhaps it was better that he didn't know what the elf was thinking. "Tack the ship when we've got a line to come up to them, and let's not be lubberly about it."

"Aye, sir!" Thillion gave the order, and Stargazer came about like a well-trained team at the crack of a coachman's whip. Canvas fluttered and filled with little loss of momentum, and they bore down on the exact center of the cove.

"Nicely done, Thillion. Anchor us to port of ..." He looked again as the galleon swung on her anchor. Gold letters framed by two golden wings glittered on her transom. "...Gold Wing."

"Aye, sir. Bring her up a point, Windy. Grogul! Douse the main, forestays'l, and inner jib. Put someone in the forechains with a lead line. We'll luff up half a cable's length upwind on her port side and drop anchor. Smartly now!"

"Aye, sir!"

Stargazer slowed as her sails were furled. As they neared, a figure on the galleon's poop prepared to hoist a flag. Torius felt a rush of nerves and steadied himself. "And Thillion, no matter what flag they raise, no weapon is to be bared unless they do so first or I give the order."

The elf's smile drooped. "Understood, sir." He relayed the orders, and Torius heard some grumbling.

The entire crew was on deck watching as the galleon's flag shot up the mizzen and unfurled in the breeze: a golden eagle on a field of blue and gray, a sword clutched in one talon, a branch in the other. Every eye aboard snapped around to look at Torius with mixed expressions of surprise, worry, or shock. A couple of pirates even reached for hidden crossbows.

"Avast there!" Torius commanded, and the errant sailors stood down.

"Andoran, Captain?" Thillion's face remained inscrutable, but there was worry aplenty in his voice. "A Gray Corsair? Are you sure about this, sir?"

"I'm sure, Thillion." He was surprised at the conviction in his voice, but he knew without doubt that he was sure. For whatever reason, he was convinced that Vreva had told him the truth. "Carry on."

Stargazer luffed up right on the mark, and the anchor splashed into the sea. The sails were furled as the cable paid out, and when the ship came to rest, she floated within hailing distance of Gold Wing's port side.

"They're launching a boat, sir."

A uniformed officer commanded the boat, which sped across the water under the effort of six smartly clad oarsmen. They pulled up about twenty feet from Stargazer's quarterdeck, and the officer stood.

"Captain Vin, I presume?"

"I'm Captain Vin." Torius stood at the quarterdeck rail and analyzed the young officer and his sailors. They looked overly starched and pressed to his eye, but they handled their craft in a seamanlike fashion. Not one showed any signs of nervousness or deception.

"You made excellent time, Captain. We weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning at the earliest! I'm Lieutenant Gosling." The officer doffed his hat and managed to bow without rocking the launch. "Captain Blaine requests your company for dinner this evening."

"Don't like it, Captain." Grogul's growled whisper startled Torius. He hadn't even heard the bosun approach. "Could be a trap."

"I've got to hear their offer, Grogul. Besides ..." He glanced over his shoulder at Thillion and winked. "...if they clap me in irons, it'll give you all the opportunity to stage a daring rescue."

Thillion tried to smile, but didn't quite achieve it.

Grogul only sneered, one hand resting on the hilt of his kukri. "Aye, sir."

Torius turned back to the boat. "I'd be happy to attend, Lieutenant."

"Six bells, if you please, Captain." The officer put his hat back on.

"Six bells it is."

"Very good, sir! We'll be by to ferry you over."

Torius watched the boat return to Gold Wing. "Well, I suppose I'd better get ready for dinner."

"Aye, sir." Thillion still looked nervous, but Grogul looked like a brooding summer squall waiting to burst out with lightning and waterspouts.

"Still don't like it, sir. Bunch of tight-arse prigs in their fancy uniforms and hats ..." Grogul spat over the side, his lip curling back from his tusks in utter disdain.

"Don't worry, Grogul." Torius clapped the bosun on his thick shoulder and headed for his cabin. "I won't let them corrupt me with their gold leaf and finery."

∗ ∗ ∗

"You set a fine table, Captain." Torius pushed away his plate and stifled a belch. "Much richer fare than I'm used to." They had feasted on roast duck with yam stuffing, pork tenderloin, and potatoes baked with garlic, cream, and copious amounts of crispy cheese. If that hadn't been enough, the meal finished with a generous slab of plum pudding. Torius felt like a beached whale.

"We're afforded a few luxuries, Captain Vin." Blaine dropped her napkin onto her plate and waved her steward forward. "Port?"

"I'd prefer coffee. I'm afraid more wine would only make me sleepy." Though they'd polished off two full bottles during dinner, Blaine looked as clear-eyed as a new recruit on induction day.

"Of course."

The steward poured port wine into the captain's glass and set the decanter on the table. Another servant brought in a silver coffee service, placing a cup before Torius with military precision. In fact, every detail of the ship mirrored that precise placement. Captain Blaine obviously led by example. The creases in her uniform looked as sharp as blades, and the golden eagle epaulets on her shoulders glittered in the lamplight. Only the sword at her hip, a heavy-bladed instrument with a well-worn grip, showed the marks of use. Despite her authoritarian appearance, however, there was no bluster or bluff about her.

Their conversation during dinner had been amiable, though he caught Blaine scrutinizing him just as rigorously as he gauged her. Now, however, with the coffee and port served and the servants departed, she took on a more businesslike mien.

"I must say that you're not what I expected, Captain Vin." Blaine offered up a mahogany humidor filled with cigars.

Torius selected one and used the dagger from his boot to cut the tip. "And what exactly did you expect, Captain? A swaggering pirate with an eye patch and a peg leg?"

"Not quite that, but something less ..." She picked up one of the candlesticks and puffed her cigar to life. "...less refined, I suppose."

"That's interesting, because you're exactly how I pictured a Gray Corsair captain." He lit his cigar and enjoyed the heady aroma.

"How so?"

"No nonsense, disciplined, and very self-assured."

"But a captain has to be all those things to be an effective commander."

"To a certain degree that's true, but every captain has a different idea of how much of those qualities is enough, and how much is too much." He puffed and blew smoke at the overhead beams. "I'm probably a bit more lax than you would tolerate, but then, I'm not used to answering to anyone but myself."

"That's quite an admission, considering your reason for coming here."

"Is it?" He smiled and shrugged. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, Captain, but this position isn't a military one."

"No, it's not." She puffed her cigar and sipped port, her eyes narrowing. "You'd be able to return to Almas for refit and resupply, and you'd deal directly with Admiral Weathers, but you'd be on your own at sea. This is not a position for someone faint of heart or slow of wit."

"And your assessment?"

"Frankly, the only thing I think you lack, Captain, is conviction. We're all in this for one purpose and one purpose only: to bring freedom and liberty to the nations of the Inner Sea."

Torius raised an eyebrow. "All of the Inner Sea?"

"Eventually, yes." She returned his questioning look. "Does that surprise you?"

"It worries me. Andoran may be biting off more than it can chew if it intends to conquer the entire Inner Sea. You might ask the Taldans or Chelaxians how that worked out."

"I said nothing of conquest, Captain." She scowled and leaned across the table. "We're not that naive. We understand one thing that you may not know. Economics will spread liberty and freedom faster than any sword or arrow. The fact is, free societies are more profitable than ones ruled by greedy monarchs using slave labor for their industries."

"If that's so, then why are we sitting here? Shouldn't you simply be telling everyone this secret?"

"It's no secret, Captain. Andoran has proven it. The word is out, and there are a lot of very nervous nations lining up to oppose us, not because we're wrong, but because we threaten their power. We're here to oppose their tyranny, to make the abomination of slavery too expensive to remain profitable." She puffed her cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring over the table as she leaned back in her chair. "Loyalty, conviction, and economics will win this fight for us, Captain Vin. I just need to hear you agree and believe that you're telling me the truth."

"I'm here for two reasons, Captain Blaine." He stopped and thought for a moment, then corrected himself. "Well, three reasons, actually, but only two really matter. The first is that I abhor slavery. My reasons for that are my own. The second is that I was asked to do this by a friend." He fixed her with a pointed gaze, gauging her response. "Above all other qualities, Captain, I value loyalty. Any member of my crew will verify that. I'll put my life on the line for any of them, and they'll do the same for me. When a friend asks me for help, I give it. If I give my word to you, you can bet your life that I'll keep it."

Her eyebrows arched. "All right, Captain, I believe you."

"Good."

"But I'm curious. What's your third reason, the one that doesn't really matter?"

"One that you mentioned yourself. Economics." He grinned at her surprised expression. "I like money a lot, Captain, but I choose the people I take it from very carefully. Taking money from slavers over their dead bodies is a bonus, so being a privateer for Andoran seems like a win-win proposition to me."

"You do understand that if you accept this position, you'll be prohibited from acts of piracy."

"Except against slavers."

"Attacking slave ships isn't piracy, Captain. It's warfare."

"So Andoran has declared war against the entire Inner Sea."

"Not at all, Captain. Only against slavers."

"That seems like splitting hairs, Captain Blaine." He pondered for a bit, puffed his cigar, then shrugged. "But I can live with it. Call it what you will, if this letter of marque lets me legally attack slave ships and profit by it, I'm in."

"Very good." Blaine stood and extended her hand. "I do believe that you might do some good for us."

Torius stood and shook her hand. "Thank you, but there's one more thing I have to do before I sign on the dotted line."

Her face grew instantly stern. "And what's that, Captain?"

"I have to ask my crew if they're up for this. Some might not like the idea of flying the Andoren flag."

"Well!" She picked up her glass and quaffed the contents. "Then I sincerely hope they make the right decision."

"So do I, Captain." Torius finished his coffee and picked up his hat, already pondering the discussion he'd be having with the Stargazers tonight. "I'll have an answer for you in the morning."

Chapter Fourteen

A Pirate's Promise

Well, at least there's no blood on the deck, Torius noted as he entered the main hold. The sky above the open hatch had begun to lighten with dawn, and still the argument continued. Upon his return from Gold Wing, he'd explained the proposition to the crew, then answered their questions as honestly as he could without revealing Vreva's secrets. By the time he went to bed, the discussion of the Andoren offer had become heated.

Now the crew seemed to be split into three camps. About a third of them were enthusiastic about the prospect of hunting slave ships. Most of the rest had no problems with it, as long as they made a good profit. A vocal minority, however, wanted no part of working with the Andorens. Unfortunately, Grogul was chief among these, and his arguments were vehement.

"I'll never trust a bunch of spit-and-polish, nose-in-the-air jackanapes!" The look on the bosun's face would have curdled milk. "They won't ever give a damn for us, nor stand up and fight if it's our necks in a noose! They'll use us for their dirty work, and when we're caught, they'll let us dangle and choke!"

"And how is that different from what we've been doing?" Thillion's tone remained calm. "The sentence for piracy is death in every nation of the Inner Sea except the Shackles."

"And think of the money!" Snick put in with an avaricious grin. "Not to mention the gratitude all those poor harem slaves will show us when we free them!"

That got a few cheers and laughs, but Grogul wasn't buying it. "That's a load of crap, Snick! This ain't a joke!"

"Grogul's right." Every eye in the hold turned to Torius. "This is not a joke." He strode forward and met their eyes as he spoke. "I put our lives on the line every time we go after a fat prize, but you all know how I feel. You know I won't slaughter sailors when there's no need, and you know I won't take them to sell as slaves. That's the main reason I want to be a part of this. I've been waiting more than half my life for the day I could strike back at the bastards who put chains on me, whipped the skin off my back, and sold me to the most sadistic bastard ever to sail the Inner Sea. Today, my friends, could be that day."

Murmurs swept through the crew. Most knew he'd once been a slave. A few of them had stood beside him the day he threw off his shackles and took Stargazer for his own.

"That's my reason. Every one of you will have your own for wanting to do this or not, but let me make one thing clear; we will not be under the command of the Andoren Navy. We'll carry their letter of marque, and keep in touch with Admiral Weathers for information and to receive our pay, but other than that, we'll be on our own. If this deal turns out not to be to our liking, we'll part company with the Andorens and never look back. If most of you agree to this deal, I'll tell Captain Blaine that we accept, but I want to make it clear that no one is required to sign up for this. If, for whatever reason, you disagree, then you're free to leave the ship with full pay and a bonus. However, whether you stay or leave," he swept them with a stern gaze, "you can never speak of this. I trust you all to keep that secret."

Not a single pair of eyes looked away from his, and Torius knew his trust was not misplaced. "So, what will it be? Shall we do this?"

Most of the crew murmured their assent, and even Grogul grudgingly nodded.

"Very well. I'll tell Captain Blaine that we're—"

"Sails! Yellow sails!" The lookout's cry brought everyone up short.

"Gozreh's guts!" Stargazers surged for the ladders, but Torius reached one first. He scrambled up and stood on the hatch coaming to scan the sea. A slave galley rounded the southern cape, its yellow sails alight with the morning sun. Torius's thoughts whirled and reached two solid conclusions. "Blaine will attack, and we've got to support her, even if we're not privateers on paper quite yet!"

"This stinks, Captain!" Grogul put in.

"I know, but we don't have any options. We have to fight!" He turned to his officers, considering strategy. At the moment, neither Stargazer nor Gold Wing flew a flag. The slaver might pass by, or venture closer, looking for prey. "Fenric, hail Gold Wing. I need to talk to Blaine about coordinating our attack. Grogul, prepare for battle, but keep the topmen on deck! We can't tip them off. Snick, load up your babies! Thillion, on the quarterdeck with me!"

The Stargazers responded without a word of argument or complaint. Their quiet enthusiasm lifted Torius's heart, and by the time he'd armed himself and reached the quarterdeck, he felt ready for anything.

He was wrong.

"Gold Wing won't answer, Captain! She's run up her flag and cut her cable!" Fenric pointed to the Gray Corsair. True enough, her topsails already billowed full, and she was making way.

Torius stared as the slaver galley turned westward, her oars and sails propelling her downwind. "For Gozreh's sake, Blaine, what are you doing? Ten minutes and the damned galley would have been ours! Now it's going to be a chase."

Fenric piped up again. "Gold Wing's coming by for a close pass."

Captain Blaine stood on her quarterdeck, grim-faced officers around her as her crew scrambled to make ready for battle. The captain's face shone crimson, flushed with rage.

She drew a deep breath and bellowed, "Is this a pirate's idea of loyalty, Vin?"

Torius was taken aback at the implication, and his blood boiled. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I mean, Captain, that if you brought those slavers down on us, by the wings of Talmandor, I'll see your head on a pike!"

Grogul's scathing retort reached the quarterdeck. "What'd I tell you about those pompous—"

"Belay that!" Torius glared at his bosun. By the time he turned to bellow a response to Blaine, Gold Wing was past. Her crew piled on sails, and tore away the canvas on the foredeck to reveal the catapult that Torius had suspected. The deadly tips of ballista bolts nosed out of her ports.

"Gods damn it!" Blane's snap judgment grated on Torius, but there was one thing he could do to prove her wrong. He turned to Thillion. "Cut the cable and make all sail. We've got to overtake that slaver before Gold Wing does!" If he attacked the slaver first, she would have no grounds to question his loyalty.

"Aye, Captain!" Thillion relayed the orders.

A burly foremast jack severed the anchor rode with a single stroke from an axe, and Stargazer veered around to the west. Sail after sail cracked and filled in the breeze, and they quickly picked up speed. They were gaining on the slave galley, but falling behind Gold Wing. Torius checked the trim of the sails. Every stitch was perfectly trimmed, yet still the Gray Corsair pulled ahead. At this rate, Gold Wing would overtake the galley minutes before Stargazer.

"I thought you said we could outsail that galleon on any point of wind, Thillion! How by Gozreh's green garters are they pulling away from us?"

"I don't know, sir. We should be eating the wind right out of their sails!" The elf leapt to the rail for a better view and raised his spyglass. "I can't see what's happening on her deck. Permission to go to the foretop, sir?"

"Go!" It didn't make sense that the galleon was beating them. "Grogul, set stuns'ls!"

"Aye, sir!" The bosun bellowed down the main hatch. Moments later, six slim booms were hoisted up, and the crew began the laborious process of hauling them up to the yards. Thillion reached the foretop long before the additional sails were rigged.

"Captain!" the mate called down. "They're using some kind of magic! Crewmen on the quarterdeck are holding open a big sack, and it's throwing an incredible wind into the sails!"

"No wonder Gray Corsairs have a reputation for outsailing any ship on the sea. They carry their own wind!" Torius watched the galleon continue to edge ahead, even as Stargazer's stunsails filled and drew. He gauged the wind, the chase, and their angles of approach, and ordered the helm a point to starboard. When Thillion returned from the foretop, he explained his strategy.

"Blaine's charging right up the galley's wake. If both ships hold that course, she can use her catapult to pound the galley's transom. My bet is that the galley will veer and give Gold Wing a broadside before the Andorens can close and board. If we can arrive before they grapple, we can pin the galley between us and rake her. If we get there late, we'll have to board. We can't afford to kill any Gray Corsairs with a stray shot."

"If Gold Wing would slow, it would help."

Torius shook his head. "Blaine doesn't trust us. She may even think we plan to join the slavers against her, which would explain her tactics."

"She can't hope to finish off the galley before we arrive, can she?"

"I wouldn't think so, but I don't know her." He ordered Windy to steer one more point to starboard to broaden their angle. "If we look like we mean to engage the galley, maybe she'll believe we're on her side."

"We'll know soon enough." Thillion pointed forward. "They're closing."

The Gold Wing veered, and her catapult cracked. A huge ball soared toward the galley, but fell short. The Gray Corsair resumed her course directly at the fleeing slavers.

"Two more ship-lengths and they'll have them." Torius raised his glass. With their diverging courses, he could see both ships now, and could make out several figures at the galley's taffrail. They gestured, one clapped the other on the back, and they shared a laugh. "Something's wrong, Thillion."

"What?"

"I don't know, but the officers on that galley are too casual about this."

Gold Wing's catapult cracked again. The shot fell closer, but still short.

"The next one will hit."

But before Torius could comment, the foremast lookout sang out, "The galley's turning to port!"

"Wear ship, Windy! Grogul, man the braces!"

Stargazer jibed to port to cut off the galley as she fled south. Gold Wing altered course to intercept, spray flying from her bow as she bore down at a furious pace. The galleon's catapult crew belayed firing to avoid holing their own jibs.

"Is Blaine trying to cut them off?"

"At that pace, she might be able to." Torius was looking at the port sides of both ships now, and it was easy to see that Gold Wing was overtaking the slaver. As Gold Wing closed, he suddenly deduced Blaine's strategy. "Gozreh's guts, I think she's going to ram their stern!"

"That's suicidal!"

"It's certainly bold, but the galleon's a much heavier vessel. If Gold Wing strikes the galley's transom squarely, she'll give a lot worse than she gets." The heavy bow timbers of a galleon could withstand a huge pounding force, whereas the thin planking of a galley's transom could not. "Damn bold!"

Gold Wing bore on, throwing a huge bow wave. When she was less than three ship-lengths away, the galley veered hard to port, bringing her broadside to bear.

"This is going to—" Before Torius could voice his dire prophecy, a figure on the galley's quarterdeck pointed at the Andoren ship, and a bright green beam of magical energy shot forth. As the brilliant ray struck Gold Wing's bow at the waterline, a huge section of timbers vanished into dust.

"Holy ..."

Gold Wing plunged downward, the void of her bow swallowing the sea instead of parting it. With her breakneck speed, water surged into the huge hole with killing force. Deck hatches were blown right out of their coamings by torrents of air forced from below by the inrushing sea. The ship pitched forward, her bowsprit stabbing into the waves, her foredeck awash in an instant. The masts groaned, and stays parted with cracks like catapult shots. Her mainmast crashed down, a tangle of cordage and shattered timber that took the foremast with it in a storm of lethal falling debris. Before Torius could even think of a coherent order, Gold Wing's waist submerged, the screams of sailors silenced by the roaring sea.

"Bear off!" Torius grabbed the wheel and helped Windy Kate haul the helm to port. "Braces hard over! We've got to stay out of range of those spells! Get the stuns'ls off her, Grogul! Cut them away if you have to!"

Stargazer rounded up until she sailed as close to the wind as she could and keep the big square sails drawing. The stunsails, however, could not tolerate the increased wind force. A boom snapped, and canvas, wood, and rope tore away.

"Slack sheets! Cut that away before it fouls the stays'ls!" As topmen scrambled like apes through the rigging to comply, Torius spared a glance at Gold Wing.

The ship was gone.

She'd sunk so fast that nobody belowdecks could have escaped, and many on deck would have been hopelessly tangled in her rigging and dragged down. Hundreds of sailors ...gone! A few survivors splashed about, struggling to grasp floating wreckage or the single overturned boat. "Thillion! Keep your eye on that Gozreh-damned wizard!"

"I was trying to, sir, but the bastard vanished! Invisible or teleported, I don't know."

Torius swore. If the wizard had teleported back to Katapesh, they were in trouble. The galley had been close enough to identify Stargazer in the company of a Gray Corsair. That was all the Pactmasters needed to brand Torius and his crew as Andoren collaborators. Torius mumbled a silent prayer to Gozreh that the slavers would consider such a powerful caster too valuable a weapon to use only once.

But how the hell do I fight something like that? There was only one answer. "Thillion, we've got to kill that wizard before he kills us!"

"Aye, sir, but how? We can't shoot him if we can't see him."

"No, we can't." Torius gauged the two ships' courses and grimaced. The galley, lateen sails close hauled and oars beating hard, was outpacing the brigantine to windward. The slaver closed on their starboard quarter, barely a quarter mile away. "But we can't just wait for them to creep up on us and blast a hole in our stern, either."

"If we turn to attack, he'll cast that spell as soon as we're in range."

In range ... "How close were they to Gold Wing when he cast it?"

"Close! Less than two ship lengths."

"So, we'll stay outside that range, and rake her with everything we've got. Maybe we can provoke him into becoming visible." He gestured at the elf's bow. "Do you think you can kill that wizard before he can kill us?"

Thillion grinned. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large vial of pearly white liquid. "With this gift from Celeste, and some very good arrows I bought in Katapesh, I think I can do that!"

Torius's arm itched at the sight of the venom. Swallowing hard to dispel the craving, he focused on the situation at hand. "Excellent! Get to the foretop and put a shaft in that wizard!"

"Aye, sir!" Thillion dashed forward and swarmed up the ratlines.

"Snick! Ready both broadsides with incendiaries. We'll tack to port and rake her deck as she comes to bear, then tack back and hit her again. It'll be long-range, so give them some elevation!"

"You got it, sir!"

"Grogul! If we can't keep our distance, we need to be ready to repel boarders if they grapple us. A galley that size probably has three times our numbers."

"We'll cut 'em down like grass, sir!"

Torius didn't share the bosun's optimism, but appreciated his enthusiasm. He gauged the angles of the ships' courses once again. If he tacked too soon, the galley would be outside the range of Stargazer's ballistae. If he tacked too late, the slavers' wizard might get a spell off before Stargazer could fire a broadside. He considered the range of Snick's babies, and gave the order to tack the ship.

"Helm's alee!" Windy called out, hauling on the wheel.

"Haul sheets and braces!" Grogul bellowed. Stargazer cut an arc in the sea like the stroke of a farmer's scythe. The galley immediately turned to follow.

"Snick, fire as she bears!"

"No shot, Captain! Can't aim that far aft."

"Damn!" Their distance was good, but he had misjudged the angle of fire. The only way to attack was to continue their turn, but that would allow the galley to close. He had to give Snick a shot, however. Or two, he thought, considering a quick jibe. They could fire both broadsides, but the maneuver chanced breakage, and would bring them even closer to the galley. No choice. "We'll wear ship! Snick, fire as we come about, then be ready with the other side as we come off on the starboard tack!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Ready, Grogul?"

"Ready, sir!"

Hang on, Thillion, he thought with a glance aloft. The elf stood at the foretop, one leg wrapped around a topmast shroud. "Hard to port!"

Windy hauled the wheel hard over, and Stargazer fell off the wind. As they came abeam of their target, Snick's shrill command rose from below, and six ballistae bolts shot from Stargazer's side. One sailed over the galley's deck to splash beyond, but two struck her hull, and three her deck. The warheads ruptured, and flames blossomed. Slavers scrambled away from the fire and threw buckets of water to quench the blazes.

"Good shooting, Snick! Ready the starboard broadside!"

As Stargazer came around, the main boom swept over Torius's head, sheets and preventer lines burning through blocks to retard the force. Sails billowed full with a crack, heeling the ship over. Snick called out again as Stargazer rolled upright, and six more incendiary bolts soared toward the galley. Much closer now, all six struck true, and the galley's waist blazed in flames. Her mainsail caught and started to burn.

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar figure appeared on the galley's foredeck, arms raised.

"The wizard, Thillion!" Torius looked aloft to see the elf's bow bending, but it was already too late.

"Look out forward!"

Grogul's bellow drew Torius's eyes just as a torrent of ice slammed down, smashing Stargazers to the deck and shredding the forestaysail. A storm of sleet swept aft, and Torius bent against its fury.

Wiping the slushy mess from his eyes, Torius looked forward. The tattered forestaysail flapped uselessly. Stargazers skittered across the ice-coated deck trying to man their stations and tend to the damaged rigging. Those caught by the full force of the spell lay in bloody ruin. Torius tore his eyes away to look for the wizard, and his heart lifted. The robed figure lay on the deck with three long shafts stuck in his chest. Thillion had hit his mark.

"Bear upwind, Windy! Grogul, cut down that stays'l and tend the wounded!"

"Aye, sir."

The shredded canvas fluttered into the sea as Torius raised his spyglass and trained it on their pursuers. The slavers had managed to put out all the fires, but charred bodies lay strewn upon the deck. Scanning the foredeck, he saw several crewmen tending to the fallen wizard. If they have a cleric ...

"Thillion!" Torius looked aloft.

The elf scurried precariously along the stay from the foretop to the maintop, bow in hand. Before the captain could shout an order, Thillion reached his new perch, drew his bow, and rained arrows down on the galley's foredeck. The crewmen attending the wizard scattered, and two more arrows struck the fallen form. Heartened with the wizard's demise, Torius revised his strategy.

"Tack ship! Bring us alongside a ship-length off her beam! I've had enough of these bastards!" Torius dashed forward, his mind snapping onto a new strategy. They could continue to fire ballistae, and maybe even burn the ship to the waterline, but if they did, the slaves in the hold would perish. He leaned over the rail to bellow orders. "Glue bombs on her deck as we pass, Snick, then quick reload and fire grappling shots into her transom as we round her stern! Grogul, when we round her, let fly all sheets and throw grapples. We'll board over her taffrail where they can't overwhelm us with numbers!"

Savage cries rose from the crew, and once again Torius's heart lifted. He turned back to find Thillion standing beside the helm, his bow slung over his shoulder.

"Damn fine shooting! You heard my orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. As I board with Grogul and the deck crew, you and Snick's crew follow and rake them with arrows from their own quarterdeck. If we can take their quarterdeck, we'll take the ship."

"Very good, sir." Thillion sprinted forward, calling down orders to Snick and her crew.

The plan sounded simple, but bringing two ships together was always dangerous, not to mention boarding outnumbered three to one. Maybe only two to one now, with the devastating effect of the alchemical fire.

Windy Kate brought Stargazer about until they were headed directly at the galley. The two ships closed at an amazing speed. Too fast! At this speed, they'd never be able to grapple, but if they made an obvious effort to slow the ship, the slavers might smoke his plan.

"Grogul, cut the forecourse sheet! We need to check her way!"

"Aye!" Grogul followed the order without hesitation, and the big square sail flapped and fluttered.

Stargazer slowed. Snick's shrill voice rose out of the main hatch as they came into firing position. Unfortunately, a shot for Stargazer also meant a shot for the galley. Torius stood firm as the slavers shipped oars, and the ballistae bolts nosed out of the ports.

The two ships fired simultaneous broadsides. Snick's shots arced high, trailing triggering lines, and the glue bombs detonated amidships, dousing the galley's deck with sticky resin. The galley's shots were aimed low and trailed thicker lines—grappling shots. Stargazer shuddered as the shafts struck. The heavy ropes came taut, and both ships staggered, slewing to port. Two of the lines snapped, and one ripped free, tearing a piece of planking from Stargazer's side. The rest held, however, drawing the two ships together. If they pulled the ships rail to rail, the slavers could board in force the full length of the ship, and the Stargazers would be overwhelmed.

"Cut those lines!" Stargazers swung daringly down between the ships to slash at the grappling lines. A few archers fired from the galley's forecastle, but not one Stargazer fell. Steel met hemp, and the taut lines parted. Stargazer was free. "Bring her around and slack sheets!"

Stargazer wheeled to port, all sails flapping free, and grappling shots slammed into the galley's transom. The thick lines came taut with another horrendous jerk, knocking people to the deck on both ships. Stargazers hauled madly at the capstan, pulling in the grappling lines, and Grogul's boarders threw hand grapples onto the galley taffrail. Slavers tried to cut the lines, but when Thillion's arrows felled two of them, the others took cover. The galley's transom crashed into Stargazer's side at the main shrouds, showering both crews with splinters. Drawing his sword, Torius grabbed Windy Kate by the arm.

"Stargazers! With me!"

Torius and Windy ran and leapt across onto the galley's quarterdeck as Grogul and the rest of the boarders clambered up from the lower mid-deck. An arrow creased Torius's shoulder, but he recovered to meet the charge of the galley's officers with a laugh and a slash.

It was close work as he and Windy faced more blades than they could handle. Torius took a nasty cut from temple to chin, but Windy opened the man's stomach with her cutlass. Torius reciprocated by parrying a swipe that would have caught her in the neck. He sliced the man's throat on the backslash, and blood sprayed them both. Then Grogul and his boarding party swarmed over the transom onto the narrow quarterdeck, bellowing for blood. With slaver reinforcements slowed by the resin bombs, the Stargazers suddenly had the slavers outnumbered.

"Forward!" Torius ordered, parrying a boarding pike and lunging in to slash through the slaver's wrist. She screamed, clutching the gushing stump before Grogul's axe cut her down. Torius recognized the captain's insignia on her collar as he stepped over her corpse.

Torius and his crew worked their way forward in tight formation, leaping down to the flame-scarred mid-deck to continue the battle. Behind them, Thillion led Snick's crossbowmen onto the galley's quarterdeck. Volley after volley flew over their heads into the enemy. Torius's blade rose and fell, slashed and parried, until his arm ached with the effort. Yet onward he fought, sustained by his loathing for these peddlers in human suffering.

"Forward, Stargazers! No quarter!"

The slavers fought grimly, but with their officers dead, their discipline dissolved. There was no way they could hold against the coordinated force of Stargazers. When the last slaver fell, the galley's deck looked like a slaughterhouse floor.

Torius stood for a moment, breathing heavily. Dead slavers lay all around him, but not one ounce of pity did he feel. "Snick, tend our wounded and send your crew below to free the slaves. Thillion, take Stargazer's boats to look for survivors from Gold Wing. Grogul, search this ship from stem to stern and kill anyone who doesn't wear a slave collar!"

"Consider 'em dead!" Grogul strode off, gore dripping from his axe.

"Here, Captain!" Snick hurried up, pulling a vial from the satchel. Swallowing hard, she turned her pale face away from the carnage and held out the potion. "You're bleedin' a lot!"

"We won't have enough for all the wounded, Snick." He hadn't planned on going into battle on this trip, though he did have a reasonable store of potions. He pushed her toward the nearest Stargazer, curled around a bad belly wound. "I'll live. See to the worst off first. You can stitch me up later."

"Aye, sir." She didn't sound happy about it, but went to work.

Torius reached up to his jaw, and his fingers came away bloody. He tore a scarf from a dead slaver and pressed it to the wound as he worked his way aft. Windy Kate stayed at his side, miraculously unhurt, her cutlass bloody to the hilt. The door to the captain's cabin was locked, but Torius's adrenaline was still running high, and his foot worked better than a key. To his astonishment, a low wooden tub filled with murky water stood in the center of the spacious cabin.

"What the ..."

He and Windy Kate both jumped back as the water in the tub roiled. Two heads broke the surface—a man's and a woman's. Their eyes widened at the sight of their blood-spattered visitors, and they scrambled out of the tub and into a far corner. Their sparse clothing hung in tatters, gray with filth, and both wore iron slave collars.

Windy Kate lowered her sword. "Captain! They've got gills!"

The woman ducked her head as if to ward off a blow as she stammered, "We're gillmen."

"They're gillmen, Windy." Torius grinned. He winced as the movement painfully stretched his wound, but it was worth it. "And they're free."

Chapter Fifteen

Hard Questions

More wine, Urfin?" Vreva trailed her fingers along her guest's pallid chest, and eased up from the tub, water and scented oils running down her skin. Her client was Urfin Bishalla, a slave merchant locally famous for selling Okeno's governor, Morio Midasi, a charmed gug bodyguard. More importantly, Urfin was also deep into the governor's pockets. Vreva felt his eyes appraise her as she stepped out of the tub, suppressing her revulsion.

"Please." He smiled up at her with a languid expression, his voice slurred.

Physically spent, and mentally softened by the single grain of devil's breath she'd put in his wine, he was ready for a little covert interrogation. Vreva took their glasses to the sideboard without bothering to don a robe or towel. She knew he liked to watch her, and gave him what he wanted. Fortunately, without knowing it, he also gave her what she wanted: the latest secrets from Midasi.

"I hope my absence didn't leave you suffering for want of attention." She filled their glasses from the carafe and returned to the bath. She stepped into the water, balancing the two glasses easily. "Did you miss me very much?"

"Oh, there were distractions enough to keep me occupied, but I must admit that I did miss ..." He guided her descent into the tub. "...this very much."

Vreva settled into his lap and dribbled chilled wine into his upturned mouth. "Oh, so you strayed while I was away?" She writhed expertly in his grasp, teasing him with every move. "I suppose your friend the governor entertained at his mansion."

"He did." Urfin laughed at her false petulance. "Don't tell me you're jealous!"

"Well, perhaps a little," she lied.

"You have nothing to be jealous about, my dear. Slaves are one thing." He grasped her hard. "This is something else entirely."

"Is it?" She bit her lip against the pain of his grip. She would have bruises again.

"It is." Water sloshed over the side of the tub. "Besides, I'm the one who should be jealous."

"And what could you possibly be jealous of? None of my other clients hold a candle to you." It never ceased to astound her that they all believed that ridiculous lie.

"It's not your clients I'm jealous of, my dear, but that inquisitor you've taken up with."

"What?" She laughed, hiding her interest with feigned indignation. Rumors had to be flying all around Okeno about her and Zarina, but she had not yet heard one firsthand. "Why would you possibly be jealous of Inquisitor Capoli?"

"Don't dissemble, my dear. Everyone knows she's spent night after night in your company, and hasn't paid a single scarab for your services."

"Everyone knows?" She had no doubt that they did. Quopek had the biggest mouth in Okeno.

"Well, everyone who cares about you anyway." His features clouded, and she wondered if his mind was as addled as she thought. "There are rumors spreading around the Fleshfairs that you've fallen in love with the woman, Vreva."

"In love?" She laughed again. Was he was telling her the truth, or simply upset that Zarina got her attentions for free, while he had to pay? "Come now, Urfin. You know me better than that."

"Do I?" Urfin released his grip and took his wineglass from her. He gulped the pale vintage and scowled. "Some say you're going to leave with her when she returns from Katapesh."

"Leave all this?" Vreva swept an arm in a grandiose gesture. "Why would I even consider such a thing?"

"Love can do strange things to people, Vreva. You can't tell me you're not fond of the woman." He frowned, his eyes sharpening. "Late-night strolls, moonlit gondola rides, candlelight dinners ..."

People have been talking, and he's certainly not as intoxicated as I thought. Perhaps he had built up a resistance to her drugs. She would have to resort to other means. She wanted him to spread rumors, but the right rumors.

"Oh, Urfin, you're so sweet." Vreva took his glass and leaned past him to put both his and her own on the tubside table, using the distraction to cast a silent charm spell. His mind now firmly in her grasp, she slid back into position.

"I am fond of Inquisitor Capoli, but you have nothing to worry about. I have no intention of leaving Okeno. She's simply taking advantage of my acquaintance with that vile Captain Templeton to pursue her investigation. You could say that we've bonded in our mutual abhorrence of the man."

"Well, yes. Captain Nekhtal told me you visited Templeton before Capoli took him apart." His eyes drooped as her caresses and the soothing balm of her spell eased his concerns. "He said you slapped him around yourself."

So, the guards did talk. "Templeton betrayed my trust, and I want to help Zarina find out who was helping him." This was what she needed him to tell his friends and Governor Midasi.

"Zarina? You are friends with her, then." Though Urfin's tone was teasing, his eyes glinted with lazy cunning. "She seemed very ...cold to me."

What the hell is he getting at?

"Yes, we're friends. I help her ..." She intensified her caresses to make her point. "...relax, to show my gratitude for her efforts."

"Really?" His brows arched, and he slid down into the water until it lapped at his chin. "If you ever yearn for some masculine company while the two of you ...relax, I'd be willing to lend my expertise."

So that's what he wants. Vreva smiled and suppressed a surge of nausea. A sweet remembrance of Zarina filled her, so pure and real ...not this parody of passion at all. That thought startled her. The relationship with Zarina had somehow changed for her. Vreva didn't know what she felt, except to concede that she both missed Zarina and dreaded her return. A sharp squeeze from Urfin reminded her of where she was.

"Oh, come now, Urfin." She guided his hands up her slick torso. "We really don't need anyone else with us, do we? I'd much rather keep you all to myself."

"I suppose not, my dear."

"I didn't think so."

Vreva swallowed her revulsion, and forced herself into the lie. When she was finished with Urfin, he would be ready to tell Governor Midasi exactly what she wanted.

∗ ∗ ∗

Broad avenues dotted with golden statues and glittering domes framed the wide bay in gleaming Andoren majesty.

"Gilded like a godsdamned brothel."

Torius couldn't deny Grogul's assessment of Almas, at least the gilded part. He just hoped that none of the survivors from Gold Wing had heard the bosun's comment. They'd been through enough. The thought drew his eye to Gold Wing's single surviving officer, Lieutenant Gosling, who had so cheerfully welcomed him. His cheer had died with his ship and captain.

It's a wonder he's sane. Sinking into the deep blue sea, hopelessly tangled in fallen rigging, thinking that your last breath would be the last you'd ever taste ...Torius shivered.

"Furl tops'ls, Grogul! Let's take her in nice and slow."

"Aye, sir!"

Torius scanned the imposing array of siege weaponry lining the shore. Though Augustana boasted the bulk of Andoran's fleet, the capital city was not defenseless, and warships nearly outnumbered merchantmen. Spyglasses glinted from ship and shore alike. A slave galley escorted by an unfamiliar, battle-scarred brigantine was bound to draw attention. Torius would have been even more nervous if Lieutenant Gosling hadn't suggested they fly Gold Wing's private signal to avoid misunderstandings. The flags and a few other items had been recovered by the two former slave gillmen, Kalli and Nectus.

"By the deep, eight fathom!" the crewman with the lead line called from forward.

"Luff her up, Windy. Grogul, furl as she luffs and drop anchor as she loses way. Fenric, signal Thillion to raft up alongside."

The bower splashed into the sea, and the sails were furled in short order. Thillion brought the captured galley alongside, her fire-scarred decks crowded with ebullient former slaves pointing toward the city and speaking excitedly. Torius grinned. He could get used to that sight.

"Boats on the way!"

At the lookout's call, Torius brought his spyglass back up. Six longboats, all packed with armed sailors and uniformed officers, approached from several angles. "That's quite a welcoming committee, Lieutenant."

"They're Gray Corsairs, Captain." Gosling tugged at his neck cloth as if it choked him. "I'll need to give them my report."

"Grogul, send word for Thillion to come over, and rig boarding ladders for our guests." Torius analyzed the stern-faced officers in the boats. Never had he imagined sailing into Almas and standing calmly by while Gray Corsairs approached Stargazer. He scratched at the stitches that ran from his temple to his jaw. The damned things itched abominably. "Why so many, Lieutenant?"

"A quorum of captains to determine if a tribunal will be necessary."

"A tribunal?"

The lieutenant nodded up at the signal flags. "When one ship flies another's private signal, it tells other Corsairs that the vessel was lost. They'll want to know how that happened. If necessary, a tribunal will be convened to determine who was at fault, and pass judgment."

"What do you mean determine who was at fault? The slavers were at fault."

"Yes, sir, but there are always questions when a ship is lost. You're not a Gray Corsair, not even a privateer yet. Your involvement in the sinking of a—"

"My involvement?"

"You took part in the battle, Captain. You'll have to answer their questions."

Torius gritted his teeth. He didn't like the idea of facing an inquisition without a letter of marque legitimizing his position, but he had no choice. "Well, we might as well make them welcome. Windy, tell Soursop to rouse out some refreshments for our guests." As she dashed off, Torius waved Thillion over. "Let's go meet our new friends."

"Aye, sir."

The launches came alongside, and grim-faced marines preceded the officers up the boarding ladders. They didn't draw weapons, but stood alert and watchful. The Stargazers went about their business, but unlike a true merchantman's crew, the pirates kept their weapons at hand. Grogul leveled a glare that would have daunted a cavalry charge.

Six captains boarded Stargazer, their hard eyes raking the deck from stem to stern before coming to rest on the young lieutenant at Torius's side. Gosling snapped a salute and stared straight ahead.

Determined to diffuse the tension, Torius doffed his hat and stepped forward with his hand extended. "Welcome aboard Stargazer. I'm Captain Vin, and this is my first mate, Thillion." The woman in the fore glanced from Gosling to Torius's hand, then up to his face. Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she accepted his handshake.

"I'm Captain Wilshire." She had the grip of a sailor. Releasing his hand, she nodded toward her fellow captains. "These are Captains Yancy, Rollins, Meriwether, Otta, and Vance."

Torius shook their hands each in turn, two women and four men in all. Captain Otta, the only non-human among the six, bore prominently pointed ears and two short, curving horns at his temples. His skin glistened like burnished copper in the sun.

"You fly Gold Wing's private signal, and I see one of her officers here, but no Gold Wing." Wilshire's tone grated, and her hands clenched at her sides. "An explanation is in order."

"Gold Wing was lost, Captain. Lieutenant Gosling here is her sole surviving officer, though we managed to pull a few of her crew out of the sea as well." Torius jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the captured slave galley. "Those responsible have been punished."

"Punished?" Captain Yancy's deep voice sounded accusative rather than questioning. A large man, he looked more like a lumberjack than a sea captain, right down to the double-bitted axe at his hip.

"We boarded the galley and slaughtered every last slaver aboard." Their eyebrows arched at that, but Torius just stepped back and gestured toward Stargazer's sterncastle. "I'm sure you have more questions, but we can at least be comfortable while we talk."

The six captains exchanged glances and nodded. Wilshire doffed her gold-brimmed tricorne, revealing a head of short-cropped gray hair. "Very well, Captain Vin. I'm interested to hear the details."

"Grogul, you've got the deck." Torius gave his disgruntled bosun a significant glance before leading the captains aft. "I'm afraid my cabin isn't large enough to accommodate everyone. I hope you'll be comfortable in the officers' mess." Torius waved them into the mess, where Soursop had bottles of wine, rum, and grog set out on the table, along with a platter of thin-sliced bread toasted with crispy cheese. Torius sat and poured a measure of grog into his cup, and Thillion followed suit, pouring wine and cutting a wedge of lime for himself. Wilshire surprised him by pouring measures of rum into the other seven glasses, pressing one into Gosling's hand, then passing the rest to the other captains. All the Gray Corsairs remained standing.

Wilshire raised her glass. "A toast to Captain Blaine and the crew of Gold Wing, who died in the course of their duty to Andoran. May they remain forever free!"

Torius and Thillion stood and raised their cups.

"May they remain forever free!" repeated the captains and Gosling before knocking back their drinks. They then sat, and the captains pushed their empty cups away.

Wilshire rapped twice on the table. "This hearing is in session. Captain Vin, you're not in the Andoren Navy, so I'll assume that you're not familiar with our ways. When a Gray Corsair is lost, a committee of senior officers convenes to hear the details, and determine if the situation warrants a formal tribunal. If a tribunal is deemed necessary, and anyone is found negligent," she paused and cleared her throat, "or culpable, they will face judgment."

Torius choked back his response. Angering these captains would do him no good. "I understand, Captain."

"Very well. We'll hear Lieutenant Gosling's account first."

"Yes, sir!" Gosling cleared his throat and recounted the engagement with the slave galley. Partway through his recitation, the lieutenant glanced at Torius with a rueful expression.

"Though Captain Blaine was satisfied by her interview with Captain Vin, and intended to escort Stargazer to Almas, when the slave galley sailed into view, she suspected he might have betrayed us. She decided to first disable the galley, then confront Stargazer. We gave chase with all due speed, and attempted to disable her with our catapult. When the galley changed course to impede our shots, we prepared to ram their transom. As we closed with the galley,"—Gosling's voice caught before he continued—"a wizard aboard the slaver cast a spell that flashed green, and Gold Wing just ...went down."

"What?" Wilshire's eyes widened, and the other captains voiced their own disbelief. She cracked her knuckles on the table, and they fell silent. "What kind of spell, Lieutenant? And what do you mean by ‘just went down'?"

"Gold Wing plunged by the head, but I don't remember much after that. We were tangled in fallen rigging. Captain Blaine saved my life, and several others as well. She cut one of the boats loose, then freed as many as she could before ...before I lost sight of her." Gosling stared bleakly at his superiors. "As for the rest of the battle, you'll have to rely on Captain Vin's account. I could see nothing from the water."

Wilshire turned hard eyes on Torius. "Captain Vin, tell me what you saw."

"We were still about a half mile away, but had a perfect vantage. The wizard's spell flashed out in a beam of green light, and hit Gold Wing's bow right at the cutwater. A section about the size of a barn door just puffed into dust." He shrugged and shook his head. "She plunged down by the head, her stays parted, and her main and foremasts came down. She sank in less than a minute. It was a wonder anyone survived."

"By the wings of Talmandor," Captain Otta mumbled. Captains Rollins and Vance paled, and Meriwether shook her head sadly.

Captain Yancy, however, flushed with anger, and looked at Torius with narrowed eyes. "A wizard is one thing! We all get raked by a few spells now and then, but that! I've seen spells like that before, but never from anything less than a flagship's wizard. Slavers don't have spellcasters of that caliber aboard their ships."

"It certainly doesn't make sense to me," Torius agreed. "But I'm no expert. When I see yellow sails, I usually run."

"Fine privateer you'll make, if you cut and run when—"

"Captain Yancy, that's enough!" Wilshire glared, and Yancy leaned back. "Damn it, this throws a bunyip in the bilge water! Word came down recently that the Pactmasters might be arming Okeno slavers, but we received no details. Putting powerful wizards aboard ships hunting Gray Corsairs sounds exactly like something they would do. We'll have to inform the admiralty immediately." She looked grave, fixing Torius once again in her sights. "Please tell me that the wizard didn't use magic to escape."

Torius grinned—Finally, some good news!—and nodded toward Thillion. "My first mate convinced him to stick around."

"You ..." Wilshire cocked an eyebrow at Thillion. "How did you manage that?"

"I put five poisoned arrows in his chest, Captain." Thillion's matter-of-fact tone raised a few eyebrows. "I find that even wizards respond to that particular form of persuasion."

The muscles around the Wilshire's eyes twitched, probably the most mirth she ever showed. "Well done."

"After that, we closed on the galley, raked her deck with ballista fire, grappled, and boarded over her transom, where their greater numbers couldn't help them." Torius hoped they wouldn't ask for details. He'd be damned if he would reveal Snick's secret weapons to them.

"Your losses, Captain Vin?"

"Five from a wizard's spell, and four more during the boarding action." He scratched his healing chin. "A number of wounded, but no one's in danger of dying on us."

Yancy apparently hadn't run out of belligerence yet. "My question to you, Captain, is how slavers just happened along when you were meeting up with one of our corsairs?"

Torius bristled, and sipped his grog while reining in his temper. "There's no way that galley could have followed us from Okeno. They couldn't match our speed with the seas we encountered off of Qadira. No one but your own people knew where we were going." Unless Vreva was found out. He tried not to dwell on that. "I can't rule out some kind of divination magic, but if they were alerted to our rendezvous with Gold Wing, it seems to me that they'd have sent more than one ship."

Wilshire tapped the table thoughtfully. "It could have been coincidence. Another privateer, Devil's Dawn, was recently captured by an armada of slavers in that area. The slavers may be nosing arou—"

"You set up a secret rendezvous right where another ship was caught, and suspect me when slavers show up?" Torius bit back his temper again and took a deep breath. "Pardon me, Captain, but—"

"I didn't choose the time and place of the meeting, Captain Vin! If you want to rant at someone about that, feel free to voice your opinion to Admiral Weathers." Wilshire abruptly stood. "I think we've heard enough. If you would give us a moment of privacy, my colleagues and I must consult."

Indignant at being ordered from his own mess, Torius motioned for Thillion to accompany him and left the room. They waited in silence for barely five minutes before Gosling opened the door and ushered them back inside.

Captain Wilshire stood and addressed him formally. "Captain Vin, we, the assembled captains of the Gray Corsairs, believe that Lieutenant Gosling's account of events, your own testimony, and the presence of the galley and freed slaves, are sufficient evidence to clear you of any fault in the loss of Gold Wing. We deem that no tribunal is necessary." Her expression softened into a grim smile. "Congratulations on your victory, Captain. May it be the first of many. You've earned the gratitude of the Gray Corsairs by avenging one of our own."

The rest of the captains rose to their feet. For the most part, they met his gaze with amiable, if not enthusiastic, acceptance.

"Thank you."

"Berth your ship at the naval docks, and our shipwrights will see to your repairs. I'll have a barge sent out to ferry the freed slaves to shore and relieve you of the galley."

"Excuse me, sir." Thillion looked at Torius. "I haven't had a chance to speak to you about this yet, but some of the galley slaves want to sign on with Stargazer. We are shorthanded."

Wilshire's eyes narrowed again. "They're free, Captain Vin. I won't have you pressing them into service."

"Yes, they are free." Torius matched Wilshire's gaze. "And I don't press anyone into my service! Unless you mean something different than I do when you say ‘free,' they should be able to do as they please."

The other captains exchanged pointed glances, and Yancy opened his mouth as if to protest, but Wilshire raised a forestalling hand. "I said free, and I meant it. We generally take freed slaves to a processing center where we record their personal information and offer them Andoren citizenship. If, after that, they still want to join your crew, I've no complaints."

"Very well." Torius nodded to his first mate. "Tell them what's happening, Thillion. But if any of them wish not to be taken ashore, tell them they're welcome to stay aboard Stargazer. They're free, after all."

"That they are, Captain." Wilshire donned her hat. "You should report to Admiral Weathers this afternoon. She'll have a letter for you, once I provide her with my report. Lieutenant Gosling, muster the surviving Gold Wings and join me aboard my barge."

The captains and Gosling left the mess. Torius took a deep breath and reached for his glass of grog. The sweet liquor burned a track down his throat, settling his temper.

"That could have gone better." Thillion arched an eyebrow at his captain.

"Aye, and it could have gone much worse." Torius ran a hand over his face. One of his rings caught on a stitch, tugging it painfully. "I've got to go ashore once we get a berth, Thillion. I want you to oversee the repairs and get the new crew settled in. Send Snick ashore with some money to buy some more healing potions."

"Aye, sir."

"I want to be out of Almas as soon as we can." He headed for his cabin, unbuttoning his jacket and calling back as he went. "I'm going to be late for my return to the Observatory, and Celeste may worry."

"Aye, sir!"

Torius closed the door to his cabin and went to the mirror. A trickle of blood had escaped the stitch he'd snagged and reached his collar. He dabbed at it with a damp towel, then shrugged out of his jacket and shirt. The Gray Corsair captains had seemed none too impressed with either him or Stargazer. He'd have to dress in his best if he wanted to pass muster with Admiral Weathers.

"And I thought being a pirate was complicated!"

∗ ∗ ∗

"The stars are beautiful tonight."

"The stars are always beautiful." Celeste nodded to Astrus as he slithered up onto the Observatory's platform. "But tonight, I'm looking at planets. Verces and Castrovel are in alignment."

"That explains why you wanted to meet so late." He joined her at the center of the platform.

"Yes. They'll be rising soon." She pointed to the east with the stylus she was using to take notes.

"But why are you interested in a planetary alignment? If you want to view Verces, it would be clearer when it's farther from the sun on a moonless night."

"I don't want to simply look at them. I want to experience the alignment." She swept the stylus in an arc, indicating the constellations of the Cosmic Caravan. "The positions of the planets among the constellations at the moment of the alignment can tell me a great deal."

"Tell you ..." He peered at her, then chuckled. "I had forgotten that you believe in astrology."

"And I had forgotten that you're a skeptic." That wasn't exactly true, but she wasn't about to let him ruin this moment. "If you don't care to stay, feel free to go."

"I'll stay. Perhaps you can convince me that your prophecies are accurate." Astrus slithered in a circle around her.

"Perhaps I can." Celeste scratched a note on the positions of two other planets. Apostae the Messenger approached the constellation of the Follower. So far, the meaning of that configuration remained a mystery to her. But Triaxus the Wanderer's passage through the Lantern Bearer seemed obvious. The Lantern Bearer was Torius's constellation, and he was out roaming the seas. Or perhaps he's already returning to me. Her tail shivered in anticipation.

"Are you nervous?" Astrus had apparently noticed her shiver.

"No. I'm excited. The song of the heavens is strong tonight. There's much to see, many messages to read and interpret."

"And what message is signified by the alignment of Castrovel and Verces?"

"Verces the Line, as you know, is a one-faced planet. The separation of its light and dark sides signifies decisions, or choices. Castrovel is the planet of life, fertility, and passion."

"And what constellation is this alignment taking place in?"

"The Stargazer." Celeste turned to the other naga, wondering if he was joking. Astrus surely knew where the two planets would be in the sky. "My own birth sign."

"Is it?" He slithered in a tighter circle, his scales brushing her tail. "So, the message the planets tell you is that you have a decision to make that concerns life, or a matter of the heart. It seems simple."

"The song of the heavens often seems simple, but interpreting the message is fraught with uncertainty."

"That doesn't surprise me." Astrus moved in close beside her, staring at the eastern horizon, and his body quivered against hers. "Tell me. If you seek to know the future, why not simply use a divining spell?"

Celeste found his proximity distracting, but also felt a strange exhilaration. She had long awaited this alignment. "Because there is no art in divination. The stars speak to me, and I listen. I need no magic."

"I see."

"Do you?" She glanced at him. There was interest in his face, but he was looking at her, not at the stars.

"I think I do." Astrus turned his gaze back to the east. "Look. The Stargazer rises."

Celeste looked toward the east. The sky shone with the faintest hint of dawn, dimming the lesser stars. Just above the horizon rose the brilliant blue-white brow of the Stargazer. Shifting her view, she searched for a pair of stars twinkling red and blue—the Stargazer's eyes. There! And between them floated two more constant motes: green and topaz, Castrovel and distant Verces. Excitement surged through her.

What decision? What does the alignment portend?

"How do you know, Celeste?"

"How do I know what?" Celeste didn't take her eyes off of the alignment.

"If your interpretation of the stars' message is correct?"

"Oh." She shuddered as he leaned in, his scales rustling against hers. "Often the message isn't clear until events come to pass, but it serves to heighten awareness."

"I see. Perhaps I can help elucidate this prophecy for you."

"I thought you didn't believe in astrology."

"I think I'm beginning to." He shifted again, a wave of smooth motion that sent a shiver down the length of her body. "I find it interesting that this alignment, this decision concerning the path of your life or a matter of the heart, coincides with a question I've wanted to pose to you."

"What question is that?" Celeste blinked. She found it difficult to maintain her focus on the alignment. Something stirred deep in her stomach, a tingle that radiated like ripples in still water.

"I can't help but wonder if our meeting was not serendipitous."

"What do you mean?" Another warm wave of tingles flooded through her body. Her tail twitched.

"Our people are rare, Celeste. I've lived nearly a century, and have met only two other lunar nagas. Your mixture of intellect and naiveté fascinates me. Your courage inspires me. There is much we could share beyond our love of the stars."

"What are you suggesting, Astrus?" She felt a surge of fear that she already knew.

"I'm suggesting that you stay with me, Celeste." Astrus writhed his coils against her, and his scales shimmered like moonlight on polished onyx.

Celeste flushed with heat, a sensation she'd never experienced before. Her scales seemed to catch fire. The urge to writhe, to join her pearlescent radiance to his, surged like a song through her blood, a song she did not know, but longed to sing.

"I ...I'm ..." Celeste pulled away, confused by the clash of mind and body. She didn't like Astrus, yet the sensation of his body against hers felt so viscerally right. She'd never experienced anything like this, even with Torius. She forced down the troubling urges. "I'm flattered, Astrus, but although we share a love of the cosmos, we share little else."

"But there is so much more that we could share." His scales shimmered with every rippling motion. "There are mysteries of the deep spaces between the stars that I have shared with no one! I could show you so much, Celeste, and there are many things that you could show me."

He brushed against her, and her scales felt as if they had caught fire. Celeste gasped and pulled away. "Of that I have no doubt, Astrus, but I can't just abandon my friends." Her mind felt clouded. She couldn't think straight.

"We could combine forces, Celeste! Together we could amass a huge following! We could make our home here, command tithes from all who wished to use the Observatory. We could become powerful! True lords of the cosmos!"

"I don't want ..." Celeste's thoughts whirled in confusion. What did she want?

"Don't you?" Astrus encircled her body, his coils tightening around her. "You do, Celeste! I can feel your want! Your need!"

"No!" She twisted away, her mind reeling against the surge of carnal instinct. "Stop it, Astrus!"

"Why?" He curled around her until they were face to face. "Don't deny yourself this chance. It might never come again. Don't refute who you are!"

"Who I am?" The thought hit her like a lightning bolt. He has no idea who I really am. Twisting, she unwound herself from his embrace and backed away. Immediately, her physical urges eased, and her mind cleared. Flicking out her tongue, she encountered a curious essence, musky yet sweet—irresistible—coming from Astrus. She had to get away. "Please, Astrus! This is too sudden, too much all at once. I need to think about this."

"What is there to think about?" He slithered forward, but she retreated.

"No! Please, Astrus. If you respect me, you'll give me time to think!"

That stopped him cold. He stared at her as if she had slapped him, which she might have if she'd had a hand to do it. "I ...do respect you, Celeste." He stopped writhing, and the luminescence of his scales dimmed. "Think all you wish, but don't discount my offer. We are the same, you and I. None of those humans can ever give you what I can."

That Celeste couldn't deny, and a deep, instinctive part of her wanted what Astrus offered. But she was more than just her baser instincts. What Astrus would never understand was that Torius and the crew of the Stargazer offered her so much more than the naga ever could. There was no decision to make, but Celeste knew that he would argue, and right now, she didn't know how long she could resist his persuasion.

"I'll take your offer seriously, Astrus, I promise, but I must think about it." She gathered her books and charts with a flick of magic.

"You'll give me an answer this evening?"

"I will." Celeste turned away and slithered toward her tent. As the sun crowned the horizon, the meaning of the planetary alignment dawned in her mind. She did have a decision to make. She also knew what her answer would be.

Chapter Sixteen

Confrontations

Paper crinkled pleasantly in the breast of Torius's dress jacket as he descended the marble steps from the Office of Privateering Actions and through the marble-pillared foyer of the Admiralty. The two letters nestled in his pocket—his letter of marque and a bank draft—accounted for only half of his broad smile, however. The rest resulted from his meeting with Admiral Carillia Weathers. Having expected the worst after his encounter with the dour Gray Corsair captains, he had been taken aback by the admiral's grin, congratulations, and hearty handshake.

Torius had found Weathers's enthusiasm infectious. That she enjoyed her position became obvious when she compared her efforts directing Andoran's privateers to herding a swarm of rabid wildcats. She spoke frankly when describing his duties, but what really impressed him was her comment about the grousing in the Admiralty concerning his prize money. Since he hadn't yet received a letter of marque, they argued that he was owed not a single copper. Her response to their arguments had taken him by surprise.

"You risked your ship and crew to avenge one of our own, Captain Vin. I, for one, am not going to forget that! I told them that I would pay you from my own discretionary funds, and if they had a problem with that, they could draft their complaints in a formal letter and stick it up their arses! You should have seen their faces!"

Her cut-through-the-crap attitude had also cut through his dark mood, and as he left the Admiralty, he vowed that even Grogul's scowl wouldn't break his cheer. The bosun leaned against a pillar at the building's entrance, glaring at everyone who passed, as if daring them to greet him with their customary, "Good day, citizen!"

"Cheer up, Grogul!" Torius clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. "We just made a boatload of money."

"Aye, sir." Grogul fell into step beside him, but his grim expression remained. "This place's just got me on edge. Everybody's so damned happy. Even when they're arguing, they're happy! It's like there's pesh in their water supply or somethin'."

Torius laughed and turned up the broad avenue of the Field of Concord, sidestepping a gaggle of chattering students. "It's not pesh, my friend, it's freedom. They're drunk on it."

"They're drunk on somethin' all right." Grogul cocked his head at a halfling standing on a tall box near one of the field's many statues, loudly voicing his opinion on the government's frivolous military expenditures. "Mouthin' off like that'd get you strung up in Cheliax."

"Exactly." Torius nodded down a narrower side street. "This way."

"Where we goin', Captain?" Grogul glanced over his shoulder at the yammering halfling as they rounded the corner.

"Bank." Torius patted his pocket. "I've got to make a deposit and arrange to have the crew shares delivered to Stargazer."

Grogul just grunted and cast another glance over his shoulder. Then he muttered in a low tone, "Sly cove in a green cloak followin' us, Captain. Noticed him hangin' about when you were inside."

Torius didn't look back. If Grogul said someone was following them, he had no doubt someone was. He didn't know whether to be nervous or relieved. Vreva had told him he would be contacted by someone. When he had asked how he'd recognize her mysterious colleagues, she had laughed wryly.

"You won't, but they'll recognize you."

"Don't kill him. I want to talk to him." Torius nodded toward the next corner, a narrow street between two tall granite-block buildings. "There."

"Right."

They rounded the corner, and Torius kept walking, clacking his heels on the cobbles and keeping up a stream of casual conversation. Grogul flattened himself against the wall and waited. The fellow was indeed sly, but when he peered cautiously around the corner, the bosun reached around and jerked him right off his feet. Torius hurried back to find the man pinned against the stone wall, the soles of his boots several inches off the ground, Grogul's kukri against his throat.

"Careful, friend." Surprisingly, the man's tone was casual and his dark Mwangi features calm.

"Who are you, and why were you following us?"

"Your bosun's quick, Captain Vin. Please tell him to release me. I don't want to hurt him."

"You don't want to ..." Torius's incredulity faded when he saw the glint of steel beneath the man's concealing green cloak. The tip of a stiletto pricked Grogul just below the ribs. The half-orc apparently felt it, for his lips receded from his tusks in a snarl. Torius didn't want to bet Grogul's life that the bosun could cut the man's throat before the stiletto pierced his heart, but he wasn't comfortable with this stalker quite yet. Fortunately, Vreva had given him a way to confirm that he was Torius's contact.

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I saw a strange bird today."

"A yellow hawk, perhaps?" the man replied, his eyes still on Grogul, his knife poised.

"No, the yellow hawk never flies north of Garund."

"A black one, then."

"Let him go, Grogul."

The half-orc put his kukri away and lowered the man to the street, his glare intact. The stiletto vanished.

"You're careful. That's good." The man grinned and reached inside his cloak, which elicited another growl from Grogul. "Easy, friend. I just have a little present from a ...business associate." He withdrew a sealed scroll tube and a small pouch. "Congratulations on your letter of marque. That was the last hoop you needed to jump through to become one of us."

"Who is ‘us'?" Torius asked warily.

The man answered by drawing up his sleeve and whispering a word in an unknown tongue. On the inside of his dark wrist, an even darker tattoo swam into view, a black eagle clutching a sword and arrows. "The Twilight Talons, of course."

"The—" Torius cut short his blurted reply. "I didn't think they really existed."

"We don't." The man's pearly teeth flashed. "Not officially anyway. Only two people know who all of our operatives are, and Marshal Trellis certainly doesn't have an office where you can drop in. You'll get used to it. Now, here are instructions and payment. I know you don't have a package for us on this trip, but when you do, don't let anyone see you make the drop."

"The drop?" Torius took the scroll case and pouch, the latter clattering like a bag of dice.

"You are new at this, aren't you?" The man grinned again. "When you bring reports from our ...mutual friend, you'll deliver them to a prearranged drop location. In return, you'll receive a larger package for delivery back to our friend. I've already arranged for a chest to be delivered to your ship. There are instructions in there."

"That's it?"

"That's it, Captain." The fellow straightened his cloak. "The key to the chest is in the pouch, too, along with a ...little birdie. The instructions—"

"Are in here. I get it." Torius tucked the scroll tube into his jacket pocket.

"Yes, I can see that you do." He smiled and nodded to Grogul. "It's been very nice meeting you. Keep being careful." The man walked away without a backward glance.

"What the hell was that about?" Grogul's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"That ...was the other half of the deal." Torius met his bosun's scrutiny with an even stare. "The half I couldn't tell anyone about until I knew that I was actually going through with it."

"This cloak-and-dagger crap makes me nervous, Captain."

"Me too." Torius didn't like keeping secrets from his people, but he'd made a promise. Now, however, Grogul knew something more was going on. There was no point in keeping those close to him in the dark. "I'll fill you in tonight. I need to tell Thillion and Snick what's going on, too, and there's no sense in telling it twice."

"All this has to do with Vreva, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but this isn't the place to discuss it." Torius tossed him the rattling pouch. "Put that someplace safe and be patient, my friend. You'll get your answers tonight."

"Aye, Captain." Grogul tucked the pouch in his pants and shrugged. "I can wait."

∗ ∗ ∗

"All packed up, Miss Celeste." Dukkol clambered up to the driver's seat. "Dog Roller's ready to go."

"Good." Celeste squinted into the afternoon sun as she eyed their caravan. Leaving seemed to be the only way to head off Astrus's advances without violence.

That morning, she had told Dukkol of her plans to leave, but had ordered him to delay getting ready until midday, when everyone was usually in their tents to escape the sweltering heat. They'd broken camp and packed in less time than she thought possible, but it had still taken too long for her comfort. Their activity had not gone unnoticed. Quizzik, the Pathfinder, had been the first to notice their preparations, and had taken a break to say farewell. When she noticed one of Astrus's followers watching them pack, Celeste's tail had twitched nervously.

"Mount up, Stargazers!" She slithered into the back of the wagon as the pirates elicited grunts of protest from their recalcitrant camels.

As the wagon lurched into motion, Celeste coiled on her nest of pillows and blankets. She hadn't slept all day, her mind racing as she pondered her encounter with Astrus. Once, when Torius had awoken from a dream spell cast by Vreva, he had claimed that he couldn't always control his body's responses. At the time she hadn't believed him, and had been jealous of the courtesan's seductive ways, but recalling her physical response to the naga's scent, she now understood what he meant. Exhausted, she gratefully rested her head on a pillow. Before she could close her eyes, however, Dukkol's shout brought her up short.

"Hey! Whaddaya think yer doin'?" The wagon jolted to a stop. "Let go of that!"

"What's going on?" Peering out, Celeste's worst fears were realized.

Two of Astrus's followers grasped the bridles of the lead mules, and more blocked the way. Dukkol lashed the reins, but they held the team immobile. Others fanned out to surround the caravan. All were armed with crossbows, swords, or clubs, Astrus behind. Though he wore his illusory human form, it flickered in Celeste's sight, barely a blur over his long, gleaming coils.

She slithered out onto the wagon's seat. "What in the name of the cosmos do you think you're doing, Astrus?"

"I might ask you the same question, Celeste. You promised that we would talk this evening, and here I find you running away. That's not very considerate."

"No, I promised to give you an answer this evening. This is my answer. I'm leaving."

"You throw my offer in my face without even the courtesy of an explanation?"

"Discourtesy was not my intent." She could hear the anger at the insult to his pride. She wasn't about to back down, much less feel sorry for him, but she would try to avoid a fight. "But this is my answer. I can't accept your offer, however ...seductive it might be. I have other obligations."

"Obligations? To humans? To that pompous captain of yours?"

The Stargazers mumbled dangerously, but Celeste snapped, "Belay that!" Their weapons were already drawn, and she didn't want this encounter to descend into violence. "Insulting the man I love is hardly the way to earn my favor, Astrus. Now, please, tell your people to stand down. My answer is final. My friends and I are leaving."

"Your friends ..." Sarcasm poisoned his words and his eyes blazed with rage.

Celeste prayed he wasn't about to do something stupid. "Don't, Astrus. You can't win."

"Can't I?" He laughed low as he eyed their mismatched forces. "I think you overestimate your chances."

Celeste's frustration grew. Why can't he let this go? Let me go? "You can't win and get what you want, Astrus. Not through violence."

"What I want is companionship, Celeste." His voice cracked with pain and loneliness, but it didn't change a thing.

"What you want, I can't provide. Leave it at that, and let us go."

"Oh, but you can provide one thing I want. You may refuse a mutually beneficial arrangement, but your cooperation isn't required for you to provide me with what I truly need."

Celeste didn't like the sound of that. Beside her, she heard the click of Dukkol cocking his crossbow. "And what is that?"

"You can provide me with heirs, Celeste."

It took a moment for that inconceivable notion to register, but when it did, it hit her with the force of a rogue wave at sea. Visions assaulted her: chains, slavery, rape ...and being forced to bear Astrus's offspring.

Before she could recover, the naga called out to his followers, "Kill their mounts!"

The cultists raised their weapons, but Celeste had seen these people during the battle with Zelegan's forces. They were mere slaves to their master's venom, camel drovers and camp workers for the most part. None had the honed battle instincts of seasoned pirates.

Dukkol's crossbow cracked as one of the guards raised a short sword to slash the lead mule's throat. The bolt took the man in the shoulder and spun him around, the sword tumbling from his hand. The other guard ducked behind his mule. Crossbows fired on both sides. Four of Astrus's followers fell with bolts in their chests, and a camel went down, bawling in pain. Its rider, Lacy Jane, leapt free of her toppling mount and rolled to her feet, spitting sand and curses.

Celeste's magic surged forth in a bolt of crackling lightning, and thunder shattered the air. Astrus's people ducked for cover, but the spell was not directed at them. Rather, it lanced over their heads to blast Astrus's tent. Charred wood and burning canvas flew, and flames leapt up as the fire began to spread.

"Put that out!" Astrus ordered, and a number of his people hurried to comply. Celeste noticed that the naga's illusion had failed, grimly pleased to think that she had rattled his concentration.

Wreathing herself in electrical energy, Celeste held her next spell at the ready. "Enough!" The Stargazers immediately held up, and Astrus's followers paused, staring at her in open fear. She faced the Observatory. "Call off your people, Astrus, or I swear by all the stars above, I'll blast the Observatory to ruins!"

"You wouldn't!"

"Won't I?" In fact, Celeste didn't know if her spell could damage the ancient shrine, but the panic in Astrus's voice told her that he didn't know either.

"You're a lunar naga, Celeste! You would not destroy the one means we have to explore the cosmos!"

Celeste glared at him and rose on her coils, flaring her body and baring her fangs in challenge. "You threaten to enslave me, to force me to bear your offspring, and you think I'll balk at destroying the one thing I know you most care for? I've been a slave, chained in the dark, prevented from seeing the stars for so long that I wanted to die rather than continue that existence! I'll fight to the death before I become a slave again! If you think for an instant that I'll submit to you, your arrogance is surpassed only by your stupidity!"

Astrus blinked, understanding dawning in his eyes at her revelation. He glared back at her, unused to such insults, but daunted by her vehemence.

Celeste took a moment to assess her people. Four of their camels were injured, and Lacy Jane stood over her dying dromedary with her crossbow leveled at the nearest of Astrus's followers. The rest of the Stargazers had used the brief hiatus to reload. They stared down their quavering opposition, ready to fight to the death at her command. She turned back to Astrus.

"Cut your losses, Astrus. Let us go."

His tail twitched, but the anger in his eyes didn't fade. "Go then, and may the desert claim you!" Astrus slithered back, and his people moved out of the way.

"Lacy, throw your gear in the wagon and climb atop." Celeste didn't want take the time now to shift gear to one of the spare camels.

"Aye, Miss Celeste!" Lacy Jane cut the pack and saddle straps and flung it all into the wagon, then clambered up to the top of the carriage box itself, crossbow in hand.

"You will not be welcome back at the Observatory, Celeste. Do not return."

"You are neither its master nor mine! I'll go where I please." Celeste nudged Dukkol and said, "Move out."

The caravan lurched into motion, the injured camels complaining loudly with each step. Only when they were well out of crossbow range did Celeste breathe easier and order a short stop to tend to the animals' injuries. While the crew cut the bolts out and dressed the wounds, she had Lacy Jane keep a sharp eye out from atop the wagon. Her shout of warning brought them up from their work in a heartbeat, weapons at the ready.

"Just one." Lacy pointed toward the distant camp. A lone man trotted through the scrub toward them. "I don't think he's even armed."

"Back to work. I'll take care of this." Expecting a messenger with some parting taunt, Celeste slithered forward to meet him. To her surprise, however, she recognized the approaching man. "Eutep! What are you doing out here?"

Eutep came up short, panting, his eyes wide. "I ran away!" He glanced over his shoulder. "I don't want anything to do with that bastard. I thought ...maybe I could travel with you to Katapesh. I don't have any money, but I can work."

Celeste looked him over. He was fit enough, but rather thinner than she remembered, and his hands shook. He'd be a shivering wreck by morning, and of no use to them. Dead weight ...extra baggage that will consume valuable supplies. But Celeste could see the hope of freedom in his eyes, and she wouldn't abandon anyone to a life of slavery.

"Take the spare camel, and get a water skin from the wagon." She turned to her crew. "Dukkol! Eutep here is joining us. Set him up with gear."

"Thank you, Miss Celeste!" Eutep lunged forward and dropped to his knees. "Thank you! I'll never forget this!"

"Get up!" She wouldn't doom the man to slavery, but she wasn't about to coddle him either. "You'll pull your own weight, Eutep. If you do your job, you won't owe me anything when we get to Katapesh."

Dukkol thrust a cutlass and crossbow into the man's hands. "We might even make a decent pirate out of you, lad!"

"Pirate?" Eutep rose and brushed off sand. "But I'm not a ..." He swallowed his comment and nodded. "I'll do my best."

"Good answer! Put that on!" Dukkol pointed to the sword belt. "I hope to Besmara's sweet tits you know how to use a blade!"

Confident that Dukkol would show Eutep the ropes, Celeste went back to overseeing the work. It was nearly dark by the time they started out again. The first few stars already flickered in the eastern sky. Celeste took a quick bearing, and they struck out toward Katapesh, the ocean ...and Torius.

∗ ∗ ∗

"You sent for me, Captain?" Snick stepped into Torius's cabin. Her smile broadened when she saw Thillion and Grogul seated at the chart table, a bottle of spiced rum and one of wine between them. "Hey, a party!"

"Have a seat, Snick." Torius closed and locked the door. "It's not a party, but pour yourself a drink. I've got something to tell the three of you."

"Trouble?" She slid in beside Thillion and poured herself a measure of rum.

"Not at all. It's just something I've been keeping close to the vest until now." Torius went to the skylight and closed it, dogging the hatch tight, then closed the stern windows as well. He didn't want the night watch to overhear this. When he turned back to the table, Snick was eyeing him sidelong.

"Not trouble? Then why lock up so tight? Afraid we're going to escape?"

Torius ignored the questions and poured himself some rum. "How are the repairs going?"

"Done, as far as I'm concerned. We can do the brightwork underway." She looked at him, then at Thillion and Grogul. "What's up, sir?"

Torius sipped his rum and let the smooth liquor burn away the lump in his throat. He didn't like keeping secrets from his people, but now that it was time, he wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject. Just do it, I guess. "We got our letter of marque today, and got paid. We're officially working for the Andorens. Unofficially we're ..." What? Spies? "...also working for another faction. This faction likes to keep their operations secret. You three and Celeste will be the only Stargazers who know everything, and I have to ask you to tell no one else."

"This has something to do with Vreva Jhafae, doesn't it?" Thillion arched one eyebrow as he sipped his wine.

"It does. As it turns out, she's not your typical courtesan." He cleared his throat and said, "She's a spy for Andoran."

"I thought as much." Thillion swirled his wineglass, examining the amber liquid in the light.

"Well, she had to be up to something!" Snick grinned maliciously. "I mean, we visit her, then run off to meet up with some Gray Corsairs ...So, she's an honest-to-goodness spy, huh?"

Grogul just growled, downed his rum, and reached for the bottle.

"Yes, and she asked if I'd be her intermediary. The letter of marque is genuine, but it's only a cover for our real job, which is to bring supplies to her in Okeno, and carry her reports back here. The only way this will work is if the slavers continue to think we're merchants, and the Andorens think we're working as their covert privateers. If either of those two covers is blown, we're sunk. This is our first payment." Torius withdrew the pouch he'd received from the Twilight Talon operative and upended it. A black eagle pin, a brass key, and a mound of grape-sized sapphires tumbled onto the table.

Snick whistled low and picked up one of the sapphires. Grogul's eyes narrowed as if he suspected some trick behind the lure of such riches. Thillion, on the other hand, barely glanced at the gems, instead reaching out to pluck the black hawk pin from the table. His wide eyes blinked once, then fixed Torius with a disbelieving stare.

"The Twilight Talons?"

Torius opened his mouth to speak, but Snick cut him off.

"You kidding? I thought they were just a bunch of stories to scare slavers! You know, ‘Watch what you say, the Twilight Talons are listening.'"

"They're real enough," Grogul assured her with a scowl. "We met one today. Sly bastard near about put a knife in my liver."

"Even the Andorens think they're nothing but a rumor, and the Talons want to keep it that way." Torius drained his glass and fixed his trusted friends with an even stare. He took the black pin from Thillion. The instructions in the scroll case had been explicit on exactly what the pin was for, and how to employ its subtle magic. His left forearm itched. "I promised to keep their secret, and now it's my secret, too."

Torius rolled up his sleeve and jammed the pin's needle into the flesh of his scarred forearm. The tiny metal eagle flared with a brief glow, then melted into his skin. Where it vanished, a stark black eagle tattoo now showed. The three of them stared at it for a moment before Torius whispered a single word, a word he would never say by mistake. He'd not spoken in more than thirty years, since the day his father left him and his mother alone in Katapesh: his father's name. The tattoo faded away to nothing, the link between it and that word established.

"Now I'm one of them. I'm telling you three because it would be impossible to do what we need to do without you knowing, and I trust you with my life. One wrong word and the slavers'll have us all dangling from a yardarm as they torch Stargazer beneath us."

"Which, once again, is no riskier than what we're already doing." Thillion faced their incredulous looks with a shrug. "Pardon me, but I don't see the distinction between being executed for piracy, privateering, or espionage."

"Difference is, if you're a spy, they ask a lot of pointed questions before they kill you." Snick drew a tiny dagger from her sleeve and twirled it in her palm. "And they use a lot of pointed implements to ask their pointed questions."

"There is that." Thillion cleared his throat and sipped his wine.

Torius had hoped the conversation wouldn't run this way, but he wouldn't lie to them. He reached for the rum bottle and refilled his glass. "As a matter of fact, Vreva's last intermediary was recently captured, interrogated ...and executed. The Pactmasters have hired an inquisitor. We don't know exactly how much she got out of him, but Vreva's cover seems to be intact."

"A real inquisitor? Like one of those religious zealot inquisitors?" Snick swallowed and put her knife away, her humor quashed.

"Yes, but Vreva has her under control. She's pushing the investigation away from the truth." Torius sipped and took a deep breath. "The point is, though we stand to earn a tidy sum outside of our privateering profits, I'm not doing this for the money. I've got enough socked away to last a long time." He gestured to the tidy pile of riches. "I'll distribute my share of the privateering profits among the regular crew, and split this extra pay with you three ...and Celeste, of course."

Silence reigned for a long moment, and Torius gauged his three companions. Snick he had no worries about. He recognized the glint of mischief and avarice in her eyes and knew she'd be up for anything. As for Thillion ...Torius had thought the elf might balk at the slaughter of the slavers on the captured galley, but he hadn't. Grogul was the big question. Torius didn't like the scowl on the bosun's face.

"I want each of you to think about this tonight." Torius downed his rum and stood. "We sail for Okeno on the morning tide, and if you're not okay with this, I need to know."

"Don't need to think about it." Snick bounced up from her seat with a big grin. "Screwing over a bunch of slavers for money? What could be more fun than that?"

"I don't have any problems with a slight increase in risk for hugely increased profits." Thillion rose, finished his wine, and smiled at his captain. "Thank you for telling us, Captain. I knew there had to be more going on than just a sudden urge to be a privateer. All the pieces of the puzzle now fit together nicely, and our place among them is clear."

"Thank you, Thillion." Torius nodded to Thillion and Snick. "You two go on. I trust you to keep this on the sly. As far as the rest of the crew's concerned, we're privateers, and that's all."

"Aye, sir." The two saluted and left the cabin.

Torius looked to Grogul, but the half-orc just sat there, unmoving and silent, staring at the gems. Torius slid into the seat across from him and poured another measure of rum into their glasses. Grogul ignored his rum and stared at the pile of sapphires, his heavy brow furrowed. Torius endured the silence a while longer, then finally spoke.

"What's eating you, Grogul?"

The bosun's eyes snapped up to his, then turned away to stare out the stern windows. "Dunno, sir. Just seems like we're in over our heads on this one. I been fightin' my whole life. Never needed a reason. It's just what I'm good at. But this just seems ...I dunno ...bigger than me."

"It's bigger than all of us, Grogul. What's wrong with being part of something bigger than ourselves? Something important."

"Nothin', I guess, but this ain't my fight."

"Neither were the dozens of other scraps I've put us in the middle of. Why is this different?"

"It's different 'cause this time we wouldn't be fightin' for us. We'd be fightin' for them." He jerked his head toward the stern windows, beyond which glittered the lights of Almas. "A bunch of stuffed shirts with high ideals and no more sense than an ogre in an alehouse."

Torius let that statement hang for a moment before he asked, "You remember the day we met, Grogul?"

"Aye, sir. I remember." Grogul's eyes drifted back to the pile of gems on the table. "And I owe you more'n I can ever pay back for what you did for me."

"You don't owe me anything, Grogul. That's not what I'm getting at." Torius took a breath and gritted his teeth against the tirade that wanted to escape. He couldn't—wouldn't—try to force Grogul's loyalty. Torius valued his friendship more than that. Grogul had to make his own decision, but that didn't mean Torius couldn't try to nudge his thoughts along the right track. "You've felt the lash, the chains around your wrists. You know what it is to be a slave. Isn't that worth fighting against?"

"It is, and that's not why I'm not feelin' right about this. It's these damned Andorens! The way they think, the way they look at us." Grogul tossed back his rum and growled deep in his chest. "They're so convinced they're right, they'll sacrifice anything to make things the way they think they ought to be. That includes us. There's no loyalty in them."

Torius nodded. "I wouldn't trust the Gray Corsairs with my back, but Admiral Weathers seemed to be different. I wish you'd met her, Grogul. I can't try to convince you, but I think she'll do right by us."

"For the privateerin', maybe, but what about the spyin'? Are you ready to trust Vreva again?"

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." Torius shrugged, finished his rum, and stood. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, Grogul. You have to make your own decision, but make it for the right reasons—your own reasons, not mine."

"All right, sir." Grogul stood and started for the door, but with his hand on the latch, he turned back. "What are you gonna tell Celeste?"

"The truth." Torius quirked a smile. "I have little doubt that Celeste will be willing to wage open war against slavers."

"And if she says no?"

"She won't." Torius was more positive about that than he was about anything else in this entire deal.

"Aye." Grogul nodded and opened the door, then turned back once more. "But will she go along with it because she wants to, or because she loves you?"

"Both, I hope."

"Aye." Grogul scowled and nodded. "I gotta think on this some, sir, but I'll let you know when we get to Katapesh."

"Fair enough."

"G'nite, sir."

"Goodnight, Grogul." The door closed, and Torius looked around the empty cabin, feeling more alone than he had in years. "Celeste ..." Gazing out through the skylight at the dim stars overhead, he imagined her happily staring at the same stars over the Observatory, and missed her more than anything.

Chapter Seventeen

A Lover's Message

Celeste never thought she would be so happy to see the towering stone walls of Katapesh. The long, sweltering trip from the Observatory had left her exhausted and nerve-wracked. She had slept fitfully, plagued by dreams in which she was bound in chains until she submitted to Astrus, only to wake writhing with the memory of his intoxicating essence.

The elaborate carving above the Serpent Gate greeted Celeste like a long-lost relative. The city guard eyed the Dog Roller skeptically, but let them pass without interference. Katapesh was, if anything, a city open to trade. Celeste directed them past the two looming statues that girded the river, and south along the avenue to cross the Two Penny Bridge. She found the crowds and noise unsettling after the deep silence of the desert, and wondered if she would have difficulty reacquainting herself with Stargazer.

"I think we all deserve a little luxury," she declared as she called them to a halt.

"At Zandrek's Pesh Palace?" Dukkol raised one bushy eyebrow as he eyed the domed building to their right, its burnished bronze colonnade gleaming in the sun.

"Certainly not! I mean at a decent inn. One with baths." Her announcement elicited weary enthusiasm, and jests about which smelled worse, the pirates or their camels. "Lacy, ride down to the docks and see if Stargazer is in port. If she is, bid the good captain come and join us. I'll send someone to meet you at the Night Gate to guide you back to wherever we decide to stay."

"Aye, ma'am." Lacy applied her quirt, and her camel trotted off.

Celeste turned the rest of the caravan north along the lane toward the Golden Oasis. The oasis served as a haven for travelers and pilgrims who came to sit by the fabled waters and commune with the gods. Numerous inns lined the palm-shaded lane, each sporting a unique, colorful façade.

"I don't know which—"

"Your pardon, Miss Celeste, but that one's the finest you'll find for the price."

She looked at Eutep with mild surprise, and glanced at the stately inn. "You know it?"

"Quite well, ma'am." His sunburned features stretched into a smile, and Celeste noticed that his withdrawals were easing already. "They cater to caravans, and there are no rats."

"Very well. Dukkol, that one."

"Aye, ma'am." The dwarf guided the wagon up a wide drive. When they stopped, a veritable swarm of slaves hurried forward to take the reins of their tired animals.

"Welcome, gracious lady!" A tall fellow in dazzling white robes approached and bowed. His almond-shaped eyes hinted at mixed elven heritage, and Celeste would have bet that his turban covered long, pointed ears. "I am Shiel. How may our humble caravanserai serve you today?"

Humble was too modest a descriptor for the inn, with its palm-lined drive, spotless flagstones, and gleaming white pillars, but a little luxury after so long in the desert would be welcome.

"I require a suite of rooms for myself and my entourage, for tonight at the least, perhaps longer. We're supposed to be meeting a ship to continue our journey, but I don't know if it's arrived yet."

"The Desert Rose will be happy to accommodate you for as long as you desire, Lady ..." He arched a slim eyebrow.

"Celeste."

"Lady Celeste, I am at your service." Shiel bowed again, then held out his hand to help her descend from the wagon.

Celeste cursed silently. She hadn't thought he would offer to take her hand, and she couldn't cast her transformation spell without giving him a real surprise, since she had neglected to don clothes. She manipulated her illusion hesitantly, her mind racing for a solution.

Rescue came from an unexpected quarter.

"Please, sir!" Eutep stepped in front of the elf. "My lady is a priestess of Karafadiki, the Burning One! Only those cleansed in the holy fires may touch her!"

"Ah! Of course." The elf bowed and backed away. "My apologies."

"You couldn't have known. Thank you, Eutep." She manipulated her illusion to take Eutep's hand and descended. He had come a long way in the last few days. As his withdrawal symptoms subsided, he had made every effort to work hard, even learning a bit of swordplay. "Thank you, Shiel. As you can see, I have my own retainers, so I won't require help from the inn's ...personnel." The last thing she wanted was slaves assigned to see to her comfort.

"Of course, milady." Nodding toward the wagon, Shiel said, "That is an ingenious vehicle. I've seen nothing like it before."

"A modification for desert travel. I have no further use for it or the camels, if you know of a caravaneer who might be interested in them."

"I'm sure I can find someone to give you a fair price, Lady Celeste."

"Excellent. Dukkol, see to the unloading, and send someone to meet Lacy at the Night Gate."

"Aye, Miss Celeste." The dwarf followed the slaves as they led the mules and camels toward the stable.

Shiel directed Celeste and Eutep into an opulent lobby and clapped his hands. Four more slaves hurried forward. "Show Lady Celeste and her entourage to the Princess Suite, and see that their baggage is brought up directly."

On their way up the stairs, Celeste leaned close to Eutep's ear and whispered, "I've never heard of Karafadiki."

"Probably because I just made it up." He grinned at her. "Didn't want to blaspheme, so ..."

"You're brilliant, Eutep." He blushed at her praise, which made it all the more worthwhile.

The suite was spacious, and lavishly decorated. The Stargazers weren't accustomed to such luxury, but Celeste didn't see the harm in a bit of coddling. They barely got situated, the slaves bringing up their dunnage, when a downcast Lacy Jane arrived.

"Sorry, Miss Celeste, but nobody's seen Stargazer since they left."

"Damn!" Celeste slithered in a tight circle and glared out beyond the broad balcony. The swaying palms and bustling crowds of merchants, pilgrims, and travelers seemed incongruously pastoral in comparison to the turmoil of her mind. The vagaries of sea travel precluded strict schedules, but she had so looked forward to seeing Torius, to feeling his hand trail through her hair, and simply talk with him. "Damn Vreva Jhafae and her intrigues."

"Orders, Miss Celeste?" The pirates all looked at her expectantly.

"Shore leave by watches, Dukkol. I'll treat everyone to baths and meals here. If anyone wants more than that, they're spending their own coin."

"Aye, Miss!" Dukkol turned to the others. "By watches then. First shift to be back here by four bells."

Lacy Jane grinned and grabbed Eutep by the arm. "Come on, Fish Bait. We'll find someone to scrub the land stench off your worthless hide."

Half of the Stargazers left with Lacy, obviously intent on enjoying themselves to the fullest. Celeste turned back to the window, wishing that she'd picked an inn with a view of the sea.

"I'm sure they're all right, Miss," Dukkol assured her.

"I'm sure ..." Her tail twitched. "Unfortunately there's no way to know, is there?"

"Ain't there, Miss?"

"What do you mean?"

"Seems to me Captain Vin was gettin' messages all the time from folks one way or another. Wasn't it one that called him away from the Observatory?"

"Yes ...Yes, it was."

"Well can't you whip up some kind of magic to give him a hail?"

"I don't know." Celeste had no experience with such spells, but if there was such a thing to be bought anywhere in the world, she could find it in Katapesh. "Do you know the city well enough to find me a wizard's shop nearby?"

"Not around here, Miss. I could point you to a few down in the Lower City, but that's about it. But Eutep says he knows Katapesh like the back of his hand. Should I go fetch him?"

"No rush, Dukkol." She looked out at the swaying palms and felt a flurry of hope in her stomach. "If we can find the spell I'm thinking of, I won't need it until the night watch."

∗ ∗ ∗

A stout rap on the cabin door, and a call of, "Comin' on to eight bells, Captain!" brought Torius from deep sleep to full wakefulness in the blink of an eye.

"Very good!" He rolled out of his bunk and reached for his trousers. "I'll be on deck presently."

"Aye, sir! Coffee and porridge on the stove."

"Thank you, Fenric." Torius stomped his feet into his boots and reached for his shirt, but as he slipped his arms into the sleeves, the crystalline memory of his recent dream brought him up short. "Celeste!"

Her face shone clear in his mind, and her words rang in his ears.

"My captain! I ...don't know how to ...I've never used this spell before, so I honestly don't know what to say. I hope this message finds you in good health. At least I know that you're alive. I was told that the spell wouldn't work if you were ...not. We've arrived back in Katapesh. There was some ...trouble at the Observatory. There was an attack by that mad priestess, Brigid Zelegan, and I'm sorry to tell you that Twigs was killed. But we gave them ...I think you would call it a sound thrashing, and the rest of us are fine. I thought you would be back by now. I hope there was no trouble. Send word if you can. We're staying at the Inn of the Desert Rose, by the Golden Oasis." Celeste smiled, and unconsciously bit her lip. "I don't know what else to say except that I miss you and ...I love you. Hurry back."

A wave of emotions swept over him; alarm that there had been a battle, sorrow for Twigs's death, relief that Celeste and the rest of the crew were all right, and confusion at them being back in Katapesh already. He'd thought that he'd have to drag her away when their stores ran low. There seemed to be more behind her words. He thought about it for a moment, and realized that she hadn't said a word about Astrus. Now he was worried.

Stop it! Torius buttoned his shirt, clipped a belt knife to his side and strode for the door. Celeste can take care of herself.

He grabbed a cup of Soursop's double-strong night-watch coffee from the galley before joining Thillion on the quarterdeck. One glance aloft told him that nothing had appreciably changed since his last watch. They were still on a beam reach under all plain sail. The wind had slacked somewhat, and he estimated their speed to be only six knots or so. The sky was strewn with so many stars that the constellations were barely distinguishable.

"Celeste ..." he muttered, staring into the heavens.

"Wind's dying, sir." Thillion breathed in the warm night breeze. "Could be a storm over the Zho Mountains drawing down the trades."

"Maybe." Torius gazed east. The stars shone all the way to the horizon. If there was a storm, it wasn't close. A true tempest at this time of year would be rare. "Or it could just be one of Gozreh's little pranks. She gave us a fine sirocco to put us where we needed to be on the way north, now she's being capricious on our way south." He prayed to the sea goddess, and donated to her temples, but she was as capricious with her gifts as the sea itself.

"Unless the wind fails completely, we should make Okeno sometime tomorrow." Thillion must have picked up something in Torius's voice, because he cocked an eyebrow at his captain. "Does something worry you, Captain?"

Torius took a deep breath and shook his head. "Celeste sent me a message. They're back in Katapesh."

"Was there trouble at the Observatory?"

"There was an attack. Twigs was killed."

"The Duenas you encountered on your outward trip?"

"No." He filled Thillion in on the details. "She's fine on her own. I just wish there was a way I could tell her that we're the same."

"Well, I can't help you there, Captain." Thillion yawned. "With your permission, I'll retire."

"Go ahead."

"Thank you, sir." Thillion saluted and trundled down the steps to the main deck just as the bell struck for the watch change.

Torius made his rounds, bidding the retiring watch goodnight and welcoming the recently wakened crew. The new faces were scattered in, and he managed to recall their names. A full dozen of the freed slaves had asked to serve aboard Stargazer, all prime sailors, and he didn't regret taking a single one. Kalli was shaping up into a good bosun's mate, though it still unnerved him to watch her and her brother dive into the sea and swim beside the ship to wet their skin and gills. And he had to admit, Stargazer handled better after they cleaned the weed from her hull.

Torius took a celestial fix and calculated their position, which corresponded nicely with his dead reckoning. If they arrived in Okeno around midday, conducted their business with Vreva quickly, and departed on the evening tide, they'd make Katapesh in three or four days. Then he would sit down with Celeste and explain the deals he'd made with the Andorens.

A distant flash of lightning to the east caught his eye. Thillion had been right. There was a storm over the mountains, and though the wind was slacking now, it might bring dirty weather by morning. He ordered Kalli to break out the heavy weather canvas in preparation and gazed at the stars.

"Fair winds, Gozreh," he whispered into the breeze. "Fair winds to bring me home ..."

∗ ∗ ∗

Vreva's heart skipped a beat as she sat down at her breakfast table. The usual letters—pleas from patrons, lavish promises, and bad poetry—were piled beside her plate, but she recognized the hand on the top one instantly. Dismissing the slave hovering at her elbow, she picked up the letter with a trembling hand. Her eating knife broke the wax seal pressed with imprint of the key of Abadar, and she read.

Dearest Vreva,

My ship arrived from Katapesh in the small hours of the morning. I thought to visit you, but I didn't want to interfere with your schedule. I would very much like to see you. Perhaps lunch?
I missed you as a drowning man misses breath.

Love,
Zarina

"Love ..." Vreva's stomach clenched. Her breakfast of fruit and yogurt seemed to have suddenly lost its allure. She got up from the table and began to pace.

*What's wrong?* Saffron looked up from his chicken livers and licked his muzzle. *Bad news?*

"No. At least, I hope not." She gestured to the letter. "Zarina's back. She wants to see me."

*Well, unless she shows up with a squad of city guards, I don't see the problem.* He hopped up onto the table and perused the letter. *This doesn't look so ominous. Why the pacing?*

"I've been thinking about Zarina a lot, Saffron. She's ...different. You've felt how I feel when I'm with her. I don't see how this can end well." Vreva turned and looked out her balcony doors toward the sliver of the sea beyond the buildings. "I can see only two possible outcomes, and neither of them is pretty."

*Seems simple to me. We either kill her, or you contrive some way to make her want to leave.*

"Make her want to leave? How?"

*I don't know. Make her jealous? Ask her to have a threesome with Urfin?*

"Jealous?" Vreva raised an eyebrow at Saffron. She hadn't considered that possibility. "But she knows I'm a courtesan, and hasn't shown any unease about it. How could I make her jealous?"

*She might not be jealous of your clients, but what if you had another relationship? A real relationship?* He sniffed the yogurt and sampled it. *Mmm, this stuff's pretty good!*

"That's a thought." She paced some more, wondering who she could contrive to have a relationship with. "But I don't want to make her angry. She's been abandoned before, and might not take it well."

*Nobody likes being jilted, but it's considerably easier than dying.* Saffron licked more yogurt and began to purr. *You mean to say that you didn't think of that?*

"No, I didn't."

*So what were the two outcomes you thought of?*

"We kill her, or she discovers I'm a spy and kills me."

*Okay, the second one is not an option.* He went back to the yogurt. Like most felines, he tended to ignore things he didn't like in the hope that they'd just go away.

"I'm sorry, love, but your suggestion has given me another option. The question is, how and when."

*Well, not while she's still investigating. If she's mad at you, you can't manipulate her.*

"Good point." Of course, that meant continuing the charade ...if charade this relationship actually was. It certainly no longer felt like a charade. Calistria help me ...

Vreva returned to the table and penned a quick reply, inviting Zarina to lunch. Longing and anxiety warred in her stomach, which reminded her of her abandoned meal. Saffron had made a serious dent in her bowl of yogurt.

"Are you enjoying my breakfast?"

*Yes.* Saffron licked yogurt from his whiskers and yawned to show his teeth. *But you can have the fruit.*

Chapter Eighteen

Suspicions

Ready and heave!" Torius strained as he helped Grogul lower the chest from the carriage. Silk packed tightly, and the chest weighed more than a full-grown man. The items secreted in the false bottom weighed heavily only on his mind.

"I'll get some help for this." Grogul strode into the inn while Torius paid the driver.

As the coach clattered away, Torius sniffed and wrinkled his nose at the stench wafting up from the Fleshfairs. He hadn't missed Okeno in the slightest. Stargazer had arrived well before midday, aided by blustery gale winds. They'd dodged the worst of the storm, cracking on under reefed sails, and slipping through the pass between Stonespine Island and Six Shells. In the shelter of the isle, they were able to spread more canvas and beat along the southern shore for Okeno.

Grogul returned with two burly slaves, who hefted the chest with no trouble. As they entered the inn, Torius was greeted, as always, buy the obsequious innkeeper, Quopek.

"Welcome, Captain Vin! Are you moving in?" He gave the chest a skeptical glance.

"Alas, no, Master Quopek. Vreva asked me to look for some silks for her, since I was making a run to Qadira. I thought I'd drop these off on my way to Katapesh."

"If you wish to see her, you'll have to hurry, I'm afraid." Quopek checked the appointment book on his desk. "She has a luncheon appointment due to arrive within the hour."

"Perfect! I'm in a bit of a rush myself. I'll just go up, pay my respects, and be off."

"Very good!" The innkeeper motioned to the slaves. "Take the chest up right away."

"I'll be right back, Grogul." He strode for the stairs with the slaves close on his heels. "One drink only."

"Aye, sir!"

At the third landing, Torius rapped the brass knocker on Vreva's elaborately inlaid door, and tapped his foot. The door swept open to reveal Vreva dressed in full courtesan regalia. Obviously, she was entertaining a client for lunch. He gritted his teeth and admonished himself for his infelicitous thoughts. Just part of the deception. Still, the thought of her playing her part with some greasy slave merchant made his skin crawl.

"Torius Vin! What a lovely surprise!" Vreva swept an arm in a graceful arc and curtsied, flashing a shapely expanse of leg and décolletage in doing so.

"Hello, Vreva." He entered and gave her his best piratical grin. "You're looking lovely today."

"You're so sweet!" She greeted him with a kiss too enthusiastic to be chaste, pretending only then to notice the chest the slaves were carrying. "Oh, and you brought me a present!"

"Of course." Torius waved the slaves into the room. "The silks you asked for, straight from Qadira."

"You're so thoughtful! Right over there." The slaves put the chest down, and Vreva showed them out, all the while gushing thanks for the gift. When the door closed, she listened to make sure the slaves had gone, and turned to him. All of her courtesan's grace melted away, replaced by trepidation. "Well?"

"We're in." He pulled the key from his pocket and flipped it to her.

"Thank Calistria!" Vreva leaned against the door for a moment, then smiled genuinely. "And thank you, Torius. I know the risk you're taking."

"Yes, you do." He pulled up his sleeve and whispered his father's name. The black eagle tattoo swam to the surface for her to see. "You might have mentioned who your employers were."

"I couldn't tell you until you were committed. But if you still harbor any doubts about me, this should answer." Vreva held out her arm to him and whispered a word he didn't quite catch. A black eagle resolved upon her alabaster skin, then faded away.

"No doubts." He rolled down his sleeve.

"Good." Vreva approached and brushed the wound on the side of his face. Snick had taken out the stitches that very morning, but it wasn't completely healed yet. "What happened?"

"An altercation with a slaver. A slave ship, I might add, with a very powerful wizard aboard. Gold Wing was destroyed, and nearly all her complement lost."

"Dear gods." She turned pale. "The slavers ...they didn't escape, did they?"

"No." He strode to her sideboard and poured two glasses of pale wine. The sun might not be over the yardarm quite yet, but he could use the fortification. "I must tell you, not everyone aboard Stargazer is as enthusiastic about this as I am. Grogul's about ready to jump ship."

"Does he know about ..." She touched her forearm.

"Yes. He was with me when your friend contacted me." He returned to her, proffering one glass while reducing his by half. "Snick and Thillion know, too, and I'll be telling Celeste as soon as we reach Katapesh. I won't keep secrets from my closest friends, Vreva."

"As long as they keep them. I hope Grogul doesn't leave, Torius. I know how you feel about him."

"No, you don't, but thanks anyway." He shrugged. "He's got to make his own decision. I hope he stays, but I can't force him to."

"Of course not." She raised her glass. "To a long and prosperous relationship."

"I'll drink to that." They did, and he nodded to the chest. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Later. I've got a guest coming soon, and I don't want her to—"

Four quick raps at the door brought them both up short. Vreva forestalled any questions with an upraised finger, and glanced toward her cat. Torius watched as the animal scurried to the door, sniffed, then turned to Vreva and meowed.

"Damn!" Vreva paled and leaned close to whisper in his ear. "It's the inquisitor! She just got back from Katapesh."

"She's your lunch appointment?" His whisper came out hoarse and choked. "Gozreh's guts!"

"Calm down and act as we discussed. We're old friends. You occasionally visit and bring me gifts, and I give you business tips, which is essentially the truth. She has no reason to suspect anything different!" She downed her wine, put aside the glass and strode to the door. There, she pinched her cheeks until they glowed pink, and assumed a casual stance before swinging open the portal.

"Zarina!"

A tall, dark-haired woman in full chainmail and a surcoat emblazoned with the key of Abadar strode into the room and grasped Vreva in a passionate embrace—so passionate, in fact, that the courtesan's feet left the floor. Vreva returned the woman's ardor with equal enthusiasm. Both ignored Torius so completely that he felt obligated to announce his presence, and cleared his throat.

Vreva broke the clinch with a gasp. "Oh, for the love of Calistria, I'm sorry!" She blushed prettily and turned to him. "My apologies, Torius, but Zarina and I haven't seen each other in far too long."

"So I see." Torius grinned, impressed with Vreva's performance.

"My apologies." The inquisitor's olive skin flushed deep crimson. She glanced from Vreva to Torius, then back. "I arrived early. I didn't mean to ...Quopek didn't say that you had a guest."

"Quopek enjoys his little jests." Torius bowed low. "Captain Torius Vin of the Stargazer, at your service."

"Inquisitor Zarina Capoli, Abadar's servant." The woman nodded and offered her hand, which he shook firmly. "You're a slaver captain, then? A client of Vreva's? I don't recognize your name."

Torius hoped like hell she didn't recognize his name. "Neither a slaver nor a client. Just a lowly merchant."

"Torius is being modest. He's not one of my clients, but an old friend and business associate." She gestured to the chest occupying the center of the living space and, to Torius's horror, produced the key he'd given her. "He finds things for me that nobody else can." She worked the key in the lock and flipped the lid wide open to reveal a rainbow of glistening Qadiran silks.

Torius swallowed—there was enough hidden beneath those silks to put both their heads in the same noose, and the very person who would tighten that noose stood right before them. Trying for nonchalance, he shrugged. "Just good business. I bring beautiful things to my friends, and they give me beautiful tips on trade."

"They are beautiful!" The inquisitor ran her fingers over the silks and turned to Torius. He found the intensity of her gaze unnerving. She gestured toward his face. "But I see that your travels haven't been without danger."

"Just a scratch, really. A Qadiran lugger feigning distress turned out to be a pirate. When we came alongside to offer help, they tried to board us." He patted the scimitar at his hip and grinned. "We dissuaded them."

"Torius is good at dissuading trouble." Vreva sidled up to the inquisitor and grasped her hand. "He recently helped me with a positively vile man who was trying to blackmail me."

"Well!" The inquisitor's eyes widened. "You're quite chivalrous."

"Just helping a friend." He shrugged again. "And there was a profit to be made in the process."

"Yes, the man turned out to be a criminal, and the Osirian authorities paid handsomely to see him brought to justice." Vreva gazed up at her adoringly. "I pick my true friends carefully, you see."

Damn she's good. Torius would have believed her himself if he didn't know she was acting.

"Then I'm doubly in your debt, Captain Vin, not only for helping Vreva, but also for seeing justice done." She released Vreva's hand and stepped forward, lifting the miniature golden key of Abadar from her belt. "Please accept the blessing of Abadar for your service."

Before Torius could protest, the golden key glowed, and the inquisitor pressed her hand to the wound on his face. Her hand grew warm, and then it too shone with golden light. The incessant itch of his wound ceased immediately. The woman dropped her hand, drawing a handkerchief from her sleeve and using it to brush away the last bits of scabbed blood.

"There," she said as she surveyed his face. "Your wound's gone, and you're not scarred overmuch."

"Makes you look rather rakish," Vreva added.

"Not too rakish, I hope. I wouldn't want to scare off customers. Thank you." Torius didn't know what else to say. "I'm a follower of Gozreh, myself, but I'll take any blessing I can get."

"Spoken like a true sailor." Vreva cast a glance toward the door, then reclaimed her paramour's hand.

Torius took the hint. "Now I must say goodbye. Time and tide wait for no one." He bowed again. "You'll forgive me, ladies, but my ship awaits."

Vreva made a show of giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He shook the inquisitor's hand, and thanked her once again for the healing. It struck him as strange; this woman was their enemy, yet she seemed a good-hearted type, nothing like the pitiless slavers he knew and loathed.

A misguided soul, he thought as Vreva's ornate door closed behind him. If she truly wanted to see justice done, she'd be on the abolitionists' side, not the slavers'. He had to hand it to Vreva, however. She certainly had the woman wrapped around her finger. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep their necks out of a noose.

∗ ∗ ∗

"He certainly leads an interesting life: sailing the sea, fighting off pirates ..." Zarina folded her handkerchief and tucked it away, her mien pensive. "How long have you known him?"

"Oh, years." Vreva waved dismissively. What foul luck to have Zarina show up while Torius was here! Their introduction had been truthful enough, but she wished Torius had tempered his story about Qadiran pirates. The fewer lies around an inquisitor, the better.

"I should've brought you something." Zarina admired the chest of silks again.

"You did." Vreva needed to get Zarina's mind off of Torius. She grasped the inquisitor's hands and smiled seductively. "You brought me you."

"I fear an overworked inquisitor's not much of a present. I can hardly compete with chests of silks and swashbuckling merchant captains."

"You needn't compete with anyone, Zarina." She kissed the inquisitor again, but she felt a subtle tension, an unease that hadn't been there upon their first greeting. Was it Torius? Was Zarina upset, or somehow jealous? She had to assuage the inquisitor's concern. "So, you missed me, did you?"

"Of course. You ...read my letter. It's the truth." Zarina searched Vreva's face, as if memorizing every curve and detail.

"Well, you're here, so you must not have received bad news from Sayyid."

"No. He simply wanted to express his displeasure at my lack of progress."

"Well, that's a relief." She took the empty glasses to the sideboard. "Would you like a drink before lunch?"

"No, thank you. I have ...work to do, and I have to keep my head clear. In fact, I should be off. I'm sorry."

"I thought we were having lunch. I'd hoped we might spend the afternoon together."

Zarina grasped Vreva's hands gently. "I am sorry, truly. Something unexpected has come up, and I have to see it through."

"Why the rush? I thought you missed me." Vreva sighed and put on her prettiest pout. "I don't mean to be petulant, but I was looking forward to spending time with you."

"I did miss you, but I have to attend to my duty." She smiled and kissed Vreva's fingers. "I should be finished by dinnertime. If you're free this evening, I promise to make it up to you."

"For you, my love, I'll make myself free."

Zarina smiled and kissed her. "Now I've got to rush off. Shall we eat at Kamalah's? Say, an hour after sunset?"

"That'll work perfectly."

"Tonight then." The inquisitor strode out.

Vreva closed the door and stood quietly for a moment, reviewing their conversation. She could pinpoint no particular word or gesture that might have disquieted Zarina. Was she jealous of Torius? Had she somehow discerned his lie? It bothered Vreva that she couldn't tell. The pop-pop of Saffron's claws in the upholstery wrenched her mind out of its reverie, and she turned to him.

"Well, that was a bit nerve-wracking, wasn't it?"

*You have a gift for understatement.* He trotted over to rub her leg, and she picked him up. He nuzzled her chin, and the familiar caress calmed her. *So, what was wrong?*

"I felt a ...reticence in her, but not at first. Not until after Torius left."

*Well, she completely ignored me, so something was bothering her.*

"Maybe she just doesn't like Torius?"

*I can't blame her for that!*

"Oh, I wish you'd stop it with him! We're on the same side now."

*I'll never like him, Vreva, not after what he did.* He fidgeted in her arms. *You don't know what it was like, being helpless while he held a sword to your throat.*

"He wasn't going to kill me, love. Celeste, on the other hand ..." She shuddered at the memory of her initial confrontation with the enraged naga.

*That reminds me of something I've been meaning to tell you.*

"Oh, and what's that?" She felt a flush of embarrassment from her familiar.

*Well, I was already scared, you know, when Torius shattered that wineglass in your hand with his sword.*

"I know. I've still got the scars from your claws."

*Yes, well, when Celeste wrapped around you and threatened you, I got your fear, too, and I ...kind of made a mistake.*

"A mistake?"

*Yes. A little one.* He fidgeted in her arms again. *Beneath the credenza.*

"Oh, my dear Saffron, it's okay." Vreva laughed and kissed him. "Truth be told, I nearly made the same mistake myself!"

Chapter Nineteen

Blood Tells No Lies

When Torius descended from Vreva's apartment, Grogul stood at the bottom of the stairs, his face a sickly shade of pale gray-green that his captain recognized as a serious case of distress. He'd obviously seen Capoli arrive, and assumed the worst.

"Captain ..."

"Outside." Torius waved farewell to Quopek and strode out the door, his bosun a half-step behind. The only carriage in sight had the crest of the Okeno Guard emblazoned on the door. "I need to stretch my legs. Let's walk back to the docks."

They strode briskly down the street. At the first corner, Torius nodded to the right and they turned. Out of sight of the inn, he started to breathe easier.

"Did you have to kill her?"

"What?" The question took him aback for a heartbeat. "The inquisitor? Oh, no. She scared the hell out of me, popping in unannounced like that, but she only asked a couple of questions about how Vreva and I knew each other." He rubbed his newly healed cheek and shook his head. "By the time Vreva was done lauding me with praise, Capoli thanked me. She even healed that scratch I took aboard the slave galley."

"She healed you?" Grogul peered at the faint scar and muttered a curse so inventively profane that Torius couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, sir, but that's just weird!"

"No kidding! I thought she was going to cast some spell to make me confess all my sins or something."

"That would have taken a while." Grogul grinned and shook his head.

"She sure made me nervous. I wasn't about to stand around waiting for a carriage and have her come out and ask more questions." He took a deep breath and twisted his neck to ease the knotted muscles. "I swear to Gozreh, this is the only time I can remember that I wished I'd been delayed by bad weather. As far as I'm concerned, we can't be out of Okeno too soon."

"Can't argue with that!"

Torius nodded down another street, and they turned left. "Let's skirt around the Fleshfairs. It'll take longer, but ..." Torius made a face.

They walked in thoughtful silence for a while, taking the streets that bordered the Fleshfairs and trying to ignore the stench of human misery. Torius felt better for the clearer air and exercise. As they rounded the corner onto the quay, however, Grogul's huge hand jerked him to a halt.

"Trouble."

The trouble took the form of two city guard carriages pulling up to Stargazer's dock. Guards tumbled out of one carriage, crossbows in hand. From the other carriage stepped Zarina Capoli and even more city guards.

"I guess we should have taken a carriage." Grogul murmured.

"Gozreh's guts!" Something had obviously gone horribly wrong after they'd left the inn. Had the inquisitor discovered the chest's illicit contents? Had she already apprehended Vreva and somehow wrenched from the courtesan her true identity? How the hell did she get here so fast? Torius cursed himself for taking such a circuitous route back.

Regardless, they had to get back to Stargazer, and two squads of Okeno guards barred their way. Trying to fight their way through would be foolish at best. Torius considered a diversion, but doubted that a bar fight, or even a warehouse fire, would deter the inquisitor.

Torius cast a professional eye at Stargazer. As usual when they visited Okeno, she showed all her teeth as a deterrent to slavers. Ballista bolts nosed out of the ports, crossbowmen stood along the deck and in the crow's-nest, and cutlasses, boarding axes, and pikes were prominently displayed. Then he caught sight of Thillion on the quarterdeck, bow in hand, watching the guards at the head of the pier. The elf's movements were slow and easy, but Torius saw his hand gestures. Fenric relayed orders, and topmen made their way to the crosstrees, ready to set sail, while the deck crew stood poised at the halyards, sheets and dock lines. The ship lay athwart the pier end, the remnants of the distant storm still fluttering the topmast pennant. She would bear away quickly once the sails filled.

A reckless plan began to form in Torius's mind, and he clapped his bosun on the shoulder. "I might be able to talk our way through this, Grogul, so don't do anything rash unless I give the word." Forcing a grin, he strolled casually toward the dock.

"And if you do give the word?"

"Then all Hell's going to break loose. It'll be cut and run like all the demons of the Abyss are on our heels."

"I'm with you, sir."

Calm. Just stay calm. She can't know. How could she? Torius cocked a curious eyebrow as they approached the mass of troops, and hailed the inquisitor. "Inquisitor Capoli." From her face alone, he wouldn't have recognized the woman. She stood with arms crossed, her formerly mild features set like dwarven stonework, nothing like the woman he'd watched greet Vreva so amorously. Torius gave her a benign grin. "Is there a problem?"

"As a matter of fact, there is a problem, Captain Vin. I must ask you some questions." Her manner reminded him of a shark swimming just beneath the surface, smooth and dangerous.

"If this is about my friendship with Vreva, let me assure you that there's nothing for you to be concerned about. As she told you, our relationship doesn't go beyond business. My business, that is, not hers." His disarming manner got him nowhere.

"Her business isn't my concern, Captain. Yours is. I have to ask you once again: How did you receive the wound that I healed for you?"

"As I said, we were attacked by pirates and forced to defend ourselves."

The cold smile that spread across the inquisitor's lips chilled Torius to the bone. There was no humor in it, only triumph. "Ah, but I happen to know differently, you see. Through the grace of Abadar, I've learned that it was not a pirate who gave you that cut, but an Okeno slaver."

"Really?" He shrugged and shot her a dubious look. "They might well have been slavers for all I know. When people board my ship with swords in their hands, I don't ask their occupations. I fight for my life!"

"Indeed." Her tone remained as cold as her smile. "Then perhaps you can explain why Abadar has also revealed to me that you're not, in fact, a merchant, but a privateer for Andoran, and a member of the Twilight Talons."

"A what?" Torius gaped at her in feigned disbelief, even as his heart seized with horror. He didn't know how she'd come by the information, but simple denial wouldn't work anymore. He might not be able to shake her suspicions, but perhaps he could unnerve the guards, or trick her into doing something foolish. "Inquisitor Capoli, if this elaborate fabrication is an attempt to get back at me for my association with your lover, I'll have you know that I'm not amused!"

"This is no fabrication, Captain Vin, and it has nothing to do with Vreva!" The inquisitor's expression and tone hardened even further. Without taking her gaze from his face, she drew a soiled handkerchief from her pocket and held it flat in her hand. Dark crimson smudges formed words upon the pale cloth. "You see, your blood's given you away. Blood tells no lies. Yours has told me your secrets, Captain Vin. Now, you'll relinquish your weapons and come with me for questioning."

Torius recognized the handkerchief as the one she had used to wipe the dried blood from his cheek, and read the betrayal in his own blood upon it: Torius Vin. Male human Andoren privateer and Twilight Talon. Wounded attacking slave galley near the Isle of Kortos, on the eighth day of Pharast.

Victory shone in the inquisitor's piercing golden eyes, but he had one more card up his sleeve. Flashing a dangerous grin, he gave Capoli a broad wink. "Ah, but there's one thing about me that Abadar has evidently not told you, Inquisitor Capoli. I was a pirate long before I became a privateer, and I'll ride a flaming horse straight to Hell before I go with you for questioning."

She gaped at him for a moment, and that was all Torius needed. Drawing a deep breath, he bellowed the command that he knew every Stargazer stood poised to follow.

"FIRE ALL!"

Torius grabbed Grogul's arm and dropped to the rough planks of the pier just as the rippling cracks of crossbows and ballistae shattered the standoff. The bolts tore through the massed Okeno guards like a cavalry charge, sending a rain of blood, torn meat, and shattered bone falling around them. Thillion's voice rang out, ordering the topmen to let fall the sails, and the deck crew to cast off.

"Now, Grogul!" Torius bounded up, drawing his sword.

Guards bled and groaned around them, but Capoli remained standing, despite a bloody tear in her tabard. She widened her stance in their path and flipped her mace up into her hand.

"Halt!" The golden key of Abadar at her belt flashed, and Torius froze in his tracks.

Grogul, however, was not so affected. Lunging past his captain, the half-orc forced the inquisitor back by sheer mass, his kukri flashing. One of his blades met her mace and snapped with the impact. The other scored a cut through her tabard, but only skittered off the mail beneath.

Though his legs remained immobile, Torius found that he could still defend himself against two uninjured guards. His scimitar parried one stroke, and the other only grazed his arm. His backslash laid the first guard's face wide open, and the second ducked the spray of blood and shattered teeth.

"Come on!"

Grogul's hand closed on the collar of Torius's jacket and jerked him into motion. When his feet touched the boards of the pier, he found that he could run. Ahead, canvas billowed. The gangplank fell into the bay as Stargazer edged away from the pier. If they dashed for it, they just might be able to leap the gap.

On the quarterdeck, Thillion fired his bow as fast as he could nock arrows while shouting orders to spread more canvas. Snick's voice shrilled from the open firing ports as she ordered her crews to reload.

"We can make it!" Torius gasped, as he fought to keep up with Grogul's longer legs.

When the inquisitor's shout of, "Shoot them down!" rang out, Grogul was a full stride ahead.

A bolt buzzed past Torius's ear and struck Grogul in the back. The bosun staggered, but kept running. Then something hit the back of Torius's knee with a sickening crunch, and his leg folded under him. The rough boards of the dock rose up to smash him in the face, knocking away his sword. Grogul skidded to a stop, a broad red stain spreading through his kaftan. Turning back, the half-orc hurled his remaining kukri at the guards, and scooped up Torius's fallen scimitar.

"Run, godsdamn it!" Torius bellowed as he tried to haul himself to his feet. His leg collapsed, refusing to support him. A crossbow bolt transfixed his knee from back to front.

"Not today, Captain!" Grogul glared at their advancing foes and snarled a feral grin. Reaching down, he heaved Torius up and shoved him toward the fleeing ship. "Go!"

Torius tried to run, but his knee folded with his first stride, the pain snatching away his breath in a strangled gasp. Scrabbling forward on his hands and one good leg, he heard Grogul's roar of unbridled fury. He glanced back, unwilling to leave his friend.

The half-orc stood in a pool of his own blood, pierced by several more crossbow bolts. Yet still he wielded his captain's blade to deadly effect. Two guards sprawled at his feet, and he held the inquisitor at bay, parrying her strokes to keep her from her quarry.

The ship ...Torius knew he could make it. Even if he couldn't run, he could pull himself to the edge of the dock and throw himself into the bay, swim to the ship under covering fire from Snick and Thillion. But Grogul ...

Torius glanced back again, just in time to see the inquisitor vanish in a flash of light from her holy icon. Grogul's sword stroke met nothing, and he staggered. A guard exploited the misstep, plunging his blade deep into the half-orc's belly. Grogul roared and grasped the blade before the guard could rip it free. His backstroke removed the guard's head, but the wound was too great. He fell to the dock, coughing blood as more guards charged forward.

Grogul looked toward Torius, and his eyes widened in horror. "Torius!" One bloody hand rose to point beyond his captain.

Torius turned, his way to freedom inexplicably blocked by a pair of chainmail-clad legs and a gleaming mace. He reached for his belt knife, but Capoli was too fast. Torius heard a roar of anguish from behind him, and a shriller cry from the ship. Then the inquisitor's mace struck like a bolt of lightning, sending him into a pit of darkness.

∗ ∗ ∗

As the carriage rumbled up to the restaurant, Vreva laid a hand on Saffron's silky fur, whispered an incantation, and watched as her familiar faded from sight. "Careful, my love."

*You be careful! I'm not the one cozying up to an inquisitor.*

When the door opened, Vreva took the proffered hand of the carriage boy and stepped down as Saffron dashed silently into the shrubbery. The spell wouldn't last long, but he'd be hidden well enough by the surrounding bushes where he could observe.

Vreva's stomach fluttered, though she didn't know why. Zarina was back, and Torius was long gone. She'd watched Stargazer sail out of Yellow Harbor from her balcony. Her afternoon appointment had been a wearying dalliance with a slave merchant who had a fetish for peeled grapes. After he'd gone, a scalding bath and a glass of wine had eased her tension, but her worry persisted, her thoughts muddled with the memory of how ardently—and honestly —she had returned Zarina's passionate greeting.

"Mistress Jhafae." Kamalah greeted her with the ritual kisses. "You grace my humble establishment with your beauty."

"You're so sweet, Kamalah. I trust you got my note."

"Your table's ready, and your lady friend awaits your company."

"She's already here?" Vreva bit her lip. Eagerness, or ... "Very well, then."

Kamalah led her through the crowded restaurant. At the table, the inquisitor sat ramrod straight, staring at a bottle of Vreva's favorite wine and two empty glasses. Zarina looked up as they approached, smiled, and stood.

"You're early." Zarina took Vreva's hands and kissed her on the cheek.

Dear Calistria, what's wrong? Long years of plying her deceitful trade had taught Vreva not only how to expertly dissemble, but also to detect the subtle vagaries of deception in others. To the casual eye, Zarina seemed relaxed, but their brief touch betrayed an inner turmoil.

"And you're earlier. I hope your work went well this afternoon, and you won't have to rush off again."

"No." Zarina waved the wine steward forward, and the fellow quickly filled two glasses. "No, tonight I vow to give you my undivided attention."

"That sounds promising." Vreva touched her glass to Zarina's. "Have you decided that you like wine?"

"I wanted to ...share this with you." Zarina took a sip, and Vreva noticed that the wine rippled in the inquisitor's glass. "Forgive me, but my work this afternoon was ...trying."

"Well, we're alone now, so you can forget all that and relax." She reached out and took Zarina's hands in hers, kneading the tense muscles there. "I'll help you relax. Trust me."

"Trust." Zarina's features registered a spasm of pain, unmistakable, but instantly masked. She pulled her hands away and took up her wineglass again. "Trust comes hard for someone of my calling. Inquisitors deal with lies, betrayal, and treachery every day."

The comment shook Vreva to the bone. Then her unease was suddenly redoubled by a sensation of danger from Saffron. What had he detected? Vreva covered her distress with a sip of wine and fought to keep her expression serene and her voice calm.

"But surely you trust me, don't you?" When Zarina didn't immediately answer, Vreva felt a deeper chill of dread. "I certainly trust you, my love."

"Love!" Zarina's eyes fixed hers, startling in their intensity. "Do you really love me, Vreva?"

"You know I do!" Even as she uttered the words, Vreva knew that they were true. Somehow, she'd given her heart to her sworn enemy.

"You ..." Zarina paled, and her hands shook so badly that wine spilled over the rim of her glass. She ignored the stain and whispered disbelievingly, "You do!" The inquisitor closed her eyes for a long moment, her lips moving as if imploring Abadar for strength. Heaving a deep breath, Zarina straightened her shoulders and opened her eyes. In the candlelight, her golden irises seemed ablaze with holy fire. "Then tell me the truth about your association with Captain Vin."

Vreva felt the force of Zarina's command like a physical blow. Recoiling, she wondered what had gone wrong, how this had come back to Torius. She had seen Stargazer sail free of the harbor.

"I have told you the truth about Torius," she insisted, girding her nerve. If Zarina had discovered Torius's involvement with the Twilight Talons, Vreva would have to disavow him as she had Fieson. Nausea rose as she envisioned Stargazer in flames, her captain and crew dangling and writhing from her yardarms. "We've known each other for years, and although he's a bit of a rake, he's an honorable man. He helped me out of a recent difficulty, and I've helped him with his business. We're friends, Zarina."

"Amazing." Zarina continued to stare at her in a most unnerving manner, but her voice expressed a sense of wonder. "All true. Every word."

"Of course it's true." Vreva had little doubt that Zarina was using her divine arts to verify the truth, but she'd learned to weave truth into her deceptions.

"You're very good at this."

The statement stung her like the lash of a whip. "What?"

"You're very good. Good at deception, at seduction, at making people trust you, fall in love with you, need you." Zarina's stern countenance cracked. Tears pooled in her eyes, and her hands began to shake again.

"What do you mean by that?" But Vreva knew what she meant. Zarina had discovered that she'd been played false.

Zarina blinked rapidly, and her face hardened again. "Torius Vin is the spy we sought, Vreva."

"What?" She recoiled in unfeigned horror, pressing a hand to her breast. There she fingered her only escape, the fourth button from the top. Covertly plucking it free, Vreva held it in her palm, praying she wouldn't have to use it. There might still be a chance she could get out of this. "I ...don't know what to say!"

"Explain this to me, if you can!" Zarina flung a handkerchief onto the table so Vreva could read the words that damned Torius. "I spent the entire afternoon asking people about Torius Vin. He apparently neither buys nor sells anything here, but only comes to visit you! Tell me honestly that you didn't know of his association with Andoran. Tell me that you had no notion that he was a Twilight Talon. Tell me that it is only a coincidence that you befriended two spies, and had no knowledge of their activities. And by the grace of Abadar, tell me the truth!" Zarina slapped her hands hard onto the table and stood, looming over Vreva. At her belt, the golden key of Abadar glowed with divine light. Despite her menacing appearance, her eyes pleaded with Vreva, and in a barely audible voice, the inquisitor whispered, "Please tell me you that didn't know ..."

Vreva stiffened. She knew the inquisitor's magic would allow no falsehood. Vreva had played her final card, and she'd lost. Projecting a deep sorrow to her beloved Saffron, she brought her hand to her mouth in a gesture of despair. "How could you suggest—"

"Drop that!"

Divine power surged through Vreva, and the compulsion forced open her hand. The tiny false button fell to the tabletop and rolled away. Vreva slapped her hand down on the poisoned sphere, but Zarina lashed out to pin her wrist to the table.

"No! You won't escape justice that way!" Without turning away, the inquisitor yelled, "Guards!"

Okeno city guards surged into the dining room, weapons at the ready. Patrons gasped in shock, and someone even screamed, but Vreva couldn't tear her gaze from Zarina's.

The inquisitor quelled the disorder with a single word. "Silence!"

But the peace that ensued was promptly shattered by a streak of white fur, slashing claws, and needle-sharp teeth.

*Run!* Saffron yowled as he leapt at Zarina's face, hissing and spitting as his claws raked her.

Zarina flung the enraged feline away, his claws leaving parallel tracks of blood on her cheeks and neck. Amazingly, she maintained her grip on Vreva's wrist.

Vreva cast the only spell at her disposal that might aid her escape. She blinked into invisibility and tried to wrench her wrist free of the inquisitor's iron grip, but to no avail. Zarina jerked Vreva from her seat as if she weighed no more than Saffron and drew her into a hard embrace. As Vreva struggled to free herself, her spell failed. A yowl of rage drew her eye. Saffron had regained his feet amid the wreckage of an upset table and two panicked patrons. He shook himself, fur bristling, and prepared for another spring, but the guards were faster.

"Saffron! No!"

A crossbow cracked, and the bolt pinned her sweet love to the floor.

"Saffron!" Vreva screamed in agony, feeling her familiar's pain as he lay there spitting and hissing, biting at the hardwood shaft that transected his hindquarters. Blood marred his beautiful white fur, and he yowled, unable to free himself.

The guard drew his sword and advanced on the helpless feline.

"No! Please!" Vreva struggled to free herself from the inquisitor's grip, but it was like trying to break a pair of shackles. "Please, don't!"

The guard stopped and looked to Zarina.

"Zarina, please!"

"Kill it."

The words fell on Vreva's ears like the sword stroke that ended Saffron's life. The searing pain of his soul being torn away from her struck with the agony of a thousand lashes. Her heart shattered in her chest. A wail of unbridled grief rose from her throat, and her senses dimmed, as if a dark veil had been drawn between her and the world.

Vreva heard voices—bellowed orders from the guards, complaints and cries from others—but her mind could make no sense of it. She felt herself being flung down onto the table, saw the wine bottle roll off and shatter on the floor. Weight pressed onto her back, forcing her breath from her lungs. More words, orders in Zarina's voice.

She watched a knife cut a shallow furrow in the back of her hand, but the pain was distant, her blood a splash of color on the white tablecloth—so like the spilled wine. A golden glow filled her sight, and the droplets of blood flowed into words. Through a fog of agony and grief, she heard Zarina's pronouncement.

"Vreva Jhafae. Female human. Twilight Talon. Courtesan, poisoner, sorcerer, spy!"

Zarina pried open Vreva's hand, and the tiny poison pill that would have ended all Vreva's pain fell to the floor. Vreva heard a soft crunch as her one chance at solace was ground to dust beneath the inquisitor's heel.

Chapter Twenty

A Woman Scorned

Vreva floated in a fog of grief. Distant sounds or sensation pierced the gloom—voices, a rumbling, a jostling motion, pain—but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered any longer. Saffron, her sweet love, her only friend for so many years, was dead. His terror in that final moment as the sword fell filled her still. Their bond had been shattered, and her soul with it.

Hard hands gripped her arms as the coach lurched to a stop, and the door opened. Vreva felt a jerk, and realized that her wrists were bound so tightly that her hands had gone numb. Inexorable pressure pulled her through the door. She tried to step down, but her legs folded, and she fell through the opening. The numbing jolt as she struck the street jarred her through the fog.

"Pull her up! She's trying to deceive us. It's what she does best!"

The voice sounded familiar, yet not. Memories pierced the haze: that voice, sweet pleasure, an underlying fear ...Hands grasped her arms and lifted.

"Keep hold of her arms! If she puts anything in her mouth, I suggest you find out what it was and take it yourself! Do you understand me? You! Take the carriage to my inn and get the large black case from my room. Bring it to me here."

The carriage clattered away.

Vreva shook her head, trying to clear the ringing in her ears, and her hair tumbled down across her face. Her coif had been undone, the hairpins removed. Her shoes, also, were gone, and the bodice of her dress hung open, all the buttons torn off. Even her corset felt loose, as if the lacings had been untied. She had no memory of being searched, but couldn't make herself care. The hands gripping her arms dragged her forward. Her legs held her weight this time.

Vreva blinked into lamplight. The radiance hardened as it glinted off of metal, and she saw Zarina, sheathed in chainmail and gleaming weapons, striding toward the Inn of the Eighth Sin. Home, Vreva thought, but not really home without Saffron. Renewed grief sapped her strength, and she stumbled on the steps.

"What in the name of ...Inquisitor Capoli! What's the meaning—" Quopek's incredulous question was cut short.

"Take him into custody! If his guards resist, cut them down."

Vreva squinted in the light, and her surroundings resolved into the familiar entrance hall.

"I demand an explanation!" Quopek's face flushed scarlet, but he offered no resistance as two Okeno guards strode forward. "I'm a long-standing member of the Innkeepers Guild! You can't just arrest anyone you like without evidence!"

"I have all the evidence I need." Zarina turned, her face so contorted by wrath that Vreva barely recognized the woman she loved. "I've discovered an Andoren spy under your roof! Until I prove otherwise, I'll assume that you and everyone else in this house of debauchery are her accomplices. I'll search this inn from rafters to cellar, and anyone standing in my way will be arrested!"

"A spy? That's ..." Quopek paled as he took in Vreva's disheveled condition, her bound wrists, and the guards gripping her arms. Abruptly, he looked away from her. "I have nothing to hide from Abadar's inquisitor."

"Good!" Zarina waved her forces forward. "Hold the staff in the common room and take this place apart! You two, bring the prisoner with me."

The inquisitor started up the steps two at a time, and the guards holding Vreva were hard pressed to keep up. Vreva couldn't, and sagged in their arms. At the first landing, Zarina noticed their delay.

"If she refuses to walk, drag her!"

They did, and Vreva's shins and ankles cracked against the marble steps with every stride. The pain felt distant, as if she was observing, not enduring, the mistreatment. When they reached her apartment, the inquisitor produced Vreva's own key to unlock the door. The latch clicked, and Zarina pushed open the heavy doors with the toe of her boot. After carefully surveying the room, she walked in and motioned the others to follow. Here, in these familiar surroundings, Vreva's mind cleared. If I can get free for just a moment ...She had no hope of actual escape, but a few seconds was all she needed to render herself invisible and reach one of her hidden needles. Just one prick and her torment would end. Unfortunately, the guards gripped her arms like straps of iron.

Zarina prowled around the room like a chainmail-clad leopard, examining every nook and cranny. At the sideboard she paused to invoke Abadar's magic. She used a dagger to pry open the hidden drawer. Plucking out one of the tiny vials, the inquisitor uncapped and sniffed it before returning it to its place. In her meticulous search, Zarina discovered several of Vreva's secret stashes, but nowhere near all of them. Vreva felt confident that the most damning evidence, her detailed log of every slaver she'd plied for information and every secret she'd learned, would never be brought to light. The book was very well hidden indeed.

Vreva's mind wandered, spiraling down into a sea of misery. If only she could drown there rather than endure an inquisition at Zarina's hands. Yet an even darker fate loomed. The Pactmasters ...Her one hope lay in provoking Zarina into killing her before she could be handed over to those mysterious beings, her mind delved to its very core, then her soul bound to one of their monstrous aluum. Eternal service to Calistria seemed paradise compared to the oblivion of imprisonment in a mindless automaton.

Perhaps I'll even see Saffron ...

"So, Vreva, what have I missed?" A fist clenched in her hair and jerked her up. Vreva blinked into Zarina's eyes, and her heart broke anew. This wasn't the woman she loved. Only Inquisitor Capoli, Abadar's servant and the Pactmasters tool, remained.

"Where are your documents, Vreva? Your lists?"

Vreva remained mute.

"So, this is the way it will be." Zarina pulled the key of Abadar from her belt and held it before Vreva's eyes. "Then I'll begin by marking you for what you are, so everyone can see the truth!"

The golden key flared with light, and Zarina traced a finger across Vreva's forehead. Pain flared, skin hissing at her touch. Vreva felt a surge of nausea at the smell of her own seared flesh.

"There!" Zarina snatched a looking glass from the credenza and held it up for Vreva to see. "Now everyone will know what you really are!"

The word "SPY" had been burned into her brow, the blistered skin red and weeping. It doesn't matter. Vreva closed her eyes. The pain meant nothing, but she couldn't bear to look into the madness in Zarina's eyes. Nothing matters anymore.

"Oh no you don't!" A hard slap snapped her head around, but the sting faded. She let her knees fold, sagging in her captors' grasp. "Wake up!" Another slap, and still she didn't respond. "Pay attention to me, or I swear by Abadar, I'll—" A knock on the door interrupted the inquisitor. "Come in!"

Vreva heard the door open.

"Good! Put that on the table."

Something heavy thumped onto the table. A latch clicked, and hinges creaked. Vreva opened one eye a slit and recognized the black case she had seen Zarina carrying aboard Bloody Scourge. Now it lay open to reveal dozens of gleaming implements tucked into velvet-lined recesses or held in place by soft leather straps. Rows of blades, trocars, pliers, and thin steel needles glinted in the lamplight. Zarina lifted out an inner tray and put it aside, then retrieved what lay beneath: a set of dark iron manacles. Opening the bindings with a key, she turned to Vreva.

"You seem to have some talent for magic." Drawing a knife from beneath her tabard, she severed the leather straps binding Vreva's wrists with surgically precise strokes. "These will put a stop to your tricks."

The manacles closed around her wrists, and Vreva thought they would be too large, easy to slip free when lubricated with sweat or blood. Then a row of tiny runes glimmered along the edges, and the iron constricted to fit her slender wrists. Her magic, the internal glow that had warmed her as long as she could remember, chilled. The spells in her mind became indistinct, ghosts she could no longer grasp. Until the shackles were removed, Vreva would be using no magic.

No Saffron, no magic, no escape ...Never had Vreva felt so helpless.

Zarina returned with a steel crossbow bolt from her case. She surprised both Vreva and the guards by loading the bolt into her crossbow and firing it straight up into one of the overhead ceiling beams. Two hard blows with her mace drove it deep into the wood. Only after the inquisitor threaded a length of thin line through a small eye in the bolt's shaft, then through the center link of the manacles, did Vreva understand its purpose. Zarina drew the rope tight, pulling Vreva's arms over her head until her toes barely touched the floor, and knotted it.

Vreva hung like a side of beef ready for the butcher.

"Everyone out. Now! Go help in the search. I don't need any help here."

The command surprised Vreva, but seemed a relief to the guards. They were gone in a hasty shuffling of boots. Zarina strode out of the courtesan's sight, and she heard the clack of the bolt being thrown. Silence ...Only the inquisitor's labored breath and her own pounding heart reached Vreva's ears. The manacles bit into her wrists, and her shoulders started to ache with the strain.

Finally, Zarina returned. Vreva lowered her eyes, avoiding that alien mask of pain and betrayal. The inquisitor's hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides, shaking with bridled rage. She leaned close, one hand rising to lift Vreva's face.

"I promised you a night of my undivided attention." Muscles writhed beneath her olive skin with every word. Her pulse pounded at her temples, and the stark wounds of Saffron's claws stood out like war paint. "I intend to keep my word."

Zarina held up her holy icon and pressed her other hand to Vreva's chest. A trembling conducted through the inquisitor's palm. Then Zarina spoke a word of divine power, and both the golden key of Abadar and her hand began to glow.

"The invocation has been cast." Zarina's eyes bore into her, tears pooling there. Muscles twitched and sweat beaded, the windows to her soul laid bare, revealing the torment within. "Tell me the truth to stay Abadar's hand. If you refuse to answer, or choose to lie, the result will be your doing, not mine." Zarina cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "Tell me, Vreva Jhafae, where do you keep your secret documents?"

Vreva stared into Zarina's tormented eyes and said nothing.

"So be it."

Light flared, and agony unlike anything Vreva had ever experienced surged through her. It felt like being plunged into molten metal, every nerve in her body instantly on fire. She didn't know if she screamed, but as the light dimmed and the pain subsided into a pervasive ache, she tasted blood and realized that she had bitten through her lip. Hanging from her bonds, Vreva prayed for the bliss of unconsciousness. She hurt everywhere, as if she'd been expertly beaten. Her lips, however, remained closed. The pain, after all, was only physical. Like a candle flame within a burning building, against the soul-wrenching anguish of Saffron's death, it didn't matter.

"Tell me!" Zarina grasped Vreva's disheveled dress and shook her.

Vreva stared into her eyes, into her agony mirrored there, and remained silent.

"Don't make me do this, Vreva!" A tear escaped and coursed a track down her flushed cheek. "Tell me where you keep your documents, and your pain will end! I promise!"

"Make you?" The whispered words came out before Vreva knew she was speaking. She closed her eyes again and let her head sag down. "I'm not making you do anything."

"You made me love you!" Zarina's fist closed in Vreva's hair, jerking her back up. Tears coursed down the inquisitor's face unchecked now, her lips trembling, spittle flecking her lips. "I loved you!"

"And I loved Saffron." Vreva closed her eyes, welcoming the pain that she knew would come, praying for oblivion. "I think we're even."

"No!" The hoarse rage in the inquisitor's voice sent a deadly chill up Vreva's spine. The voice was no longer Zarina's. Something had broken deep within the inquisitor's heart, and what had been released bore no resemblance to the woman Vreva loved. "No, Vreva Jhafae, we are not even! We will never be even!"

Vreva felt cold steel against her skin, and heard the sound of ripping cloth. When the pain came, she thought of Saffron, her poor lost love, and embraced it.

∗ ∗ ∗

Torius woke and wondered why he was alive. That he was alive he quickly deduced from the smell. Never had he heard that Hell smelled like sour straw, human filth, rusting iron, old blood, and rotting wood. He also doubted that Hell rocked like a berthed ship, a sensation as familiar to him as breathing. The questions were: what ship, and where did she lie?

He blinked his eyes open and squinted. He couldn't see much in the sickly glow of the guttering lantern, but there wasn't much to see. Shackles on his wrists and ankles, and rows of iron bars separating cells barely large enough to lie down in. A ship's brig.

Something skittered through the straw, and he hoped the rats had more savory morsels to chew than him. He struggled up to one elbow, and when that provoked only minor dizziness, rolled over to sit with his back against the bars. Memories of the fight at the pier returned. The arrow in his knee, the inquisitor, Grogul falling in a welter of blood ...

"Grogul ...my friend. I'm sorry." Torius closed his eyes against the wash of guilt. Grogul, who hadn't liked any of this business with Andoran to begin with, had died trying to save his captain's life. He remembered all the times they'd fought side by side. Never once had his friend balked or backed down from a challenge. He'd always been there ...but no more.

Survive, he thought. If you want to pay Grogul back, just survive. With that in mind, Torius took an inventory of his condition.

His head and leg hurt, but the crossbow bolt had been removed, and the puncture healed. Flexing it, he winced, but it seemed to work. He had only a few more bruises and scrapes. The fact that his more grievous wounds had been healed brought him little comfort. Someone wanted him alive for a reason, and he hesitated to speculate what that reason might be.

Pushing himself up, he fought another bout of dizziness and tested his knee. It hurt, but held his weight. His shackles clanked as he shuffled to the door. The iron gate to his cell was locked, of course, and he supposed the iron-bound door to the brig was as well. In the far corner, rings were set in the overhead beams. Just below stood a bucket full of rusty pliers, blades, and saws.

"Marvelous."

Torius sat down, leaned against the bars, and closed his eyes. Long thought yielded one faint glimmer of hope: Stargazer had won free.

Familiar shipboard sounds soothed his mind: the muffled lap of waves against the hull, the creak of wood, the drip of water in the bilge, the muffled shouts and clatter of sailors plying their trade. He had no idea how many minutes or hours passed before the bang of a door and the rattle of keys disturbed his musing. The door latch clicked, and the portal swung open. A tall, broad-shouldered half-orc entered, and Torius recognized the familiar red leather scabbard at his hip.

Torius glared at him. "You're wearing my sword."

"Aye, and a fine weapon it is." The man patted the hilt and grinned at him humorlessly, short tusks reminding Torius of Grogul. "But it's mine now. To the victor go the spoils, Captain Vin. The loser gets nothing, and you've obviously lost. But I brought you some company." He looked over his shoulder. "Bring her in."

Two sailors dragged a rag-doll form into the brig. Dressed in naught but a ragged burlap shift, it looked to be the most wretched beggar he had ever seen. Torius gaped when they lifted her up straight, and he recognized Vreva. Her arms and legs were smeared with filth, her hair matted with mud and worse. Strangely, the shift was clean, as if it had been put on only after she had been befouled. Dark manacles had chafed her wrists bloody, and her feet left crimson smudges on the deck with every shuffling step. Tears streaked her grimy face, but her eyes were the worst of all. Those once-limpid pools—sultry, intelligent orbs that had seduced him, teased him, taunted, and finally trusted him—stared at nothing, devoid of all comprehension or emotion.

Vreva Jhafae, the foremost courtesan of Okeno, had been broken.

"Sorry about the smell," the half-orc said with a hoarse laugh, "but you're probably used to the stench of a spy. Put her in that one." He pointed to the cell next to Torius's.

"Aye, Captain." A sailor worked a key in the lock, and the others shoved her in. Vreva landed in a boneless heap.

"Your friend was very ...entertaining, Captain Vin. There hasn't been such a spectacle in the Fleshfairs for many years." The sailors chuckled as they filed out. "I hope the inquisitor left enough for the Pactmasters to have their due, but it really doesn't matter. Your impotent little nest of spies has been rooted out."

"Believe that if it helps you sleep, Captain, but the Twilight Talons are everywhere." Though Torius didn't feel much of the defiance he was trying for, he saw a glint of doubt in the half-orc's eye.

"If there are still any secrets remaining in her, or you, the Pactmasters will have them." The ship's captain touched his brow in a mocking salute. "Enjoy your voyage."

The door closed with a thump, and the lock rattled. Torius sat next to the bars and examined Vreva more closely. No blood darkened the shift and, though there were scrapes and bruises aplenty on her arms and legs, he saw no open wounds. When it came to pain, both slavers and inquisitors were professionals, and they had obviously wanted to keep her alive.

"Vreva!" He kept his voice low to avoid attracting attention. "Vreva! Wake up! It's Torius!"

She didn't stir, but her breathing changed from short hesitant gasps to a regular, albeit shallow, cadence.

"Vreva!" He reached through the bars. She flinched as his fingers brushed her arm, confirming that she was conscious and awake. "Vreva! What happened?"

"They ...killed Saffron."

Her voice rasped as if hoarse from long hours of screaming, but her words didn't make much sense. With all that must have happened to her, the death of a pet didn't seem significant. Torius wondered if her wits had fled. He'd seen it before. Then he remembered the cat hopping down to trot to the door, then meowing, telling Vreva that the inquisitor stood on the other side. Saffron must have been her familiar. The bond between wizard and familiar was said to be more akin to that of mother and child than one of owner to pet. Gozreh's guts, no wonder she's in such a state. Still, if he was to come up with a plan, he had to know how badly she was hurt.

"I'm sorry about Saffron, Vreva, but I need to know what happened to you. Did the inquisitor ..." He didn't know how to ask how brutally she'd been tortured.

"I ...don't remember. Zarina was ...very angry. She ..." Vreva tried to take a deeper breath, but coughed as if it pained her. "She was in love with me. She ...didn't take the truth well."

"Hell hath no wrath ..."

"I'm sorry, Torius." Slowly, every move an obvious trial of pain, Vreva rolled over until she faced him. He saw the brand on her forehead and winced. She blinked, and more tears flowed, but her eyes showed a glimmer of sanity. "I'm sorry I got you into this."

"It was my choice, Vreva, and I guess it was my blood that betrayed us." He tried to smile, just enough to give her a modicum of comfort, and failed. "Grogul's dead."

"Oh, Torius." She closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault. He ...he tried to save my life. Just like him to do something like that." Torius recalled the first time he'd seen Grogul, and smiled at the memory of the half-orc's indomitable love of fighting. "He died as he would have wished, with a sword in his hand."

They lapsed into silence, and Torius shifted his attention to the sounds filtering down from above. The sharp calls from bosun to crew, the creak and groan of lines and blocks, and the knock of poles against the hull as the ship was worked off the dock, then the slow, steady cadence of oars.

A galley, then. It figures.

He felt the ship heel as sails filled, and the increased roll as they passed into the open sea. The ship settled into the corkscrew motion of a following sea, heeling to starboard as they sailed on a port tack. They were headed southwest. He glanced at Vreva to find her eyes regarding him.

"You know where they're taking us, don't you?" Her voice still rasped, dry and raw, but it sounded stronger.

"Katapesh, I think."

"The Pactmasters." Her eyes hardened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. "I ...need to ask you for one more favor, Torius."

"A favor?" He barked a short, humorless laugh. "I'm afraid I'm not in a position to grant much in the way of favors, but I'll do what I can."

"I need you to kill me." She said it as calmly as if she had asked him to pour a glass of wine. There was no fear, just a simple request. When he didn't answer, she continued. "I can't let the Pactmasters interrogate me. I know too much." She edged closer, her face now inches from the bars. Pulling back her matted hair, she bared her throat to him. "Use your manacles. Send me to Calistria. Please."

Torius considered her. It wouldn't be difficult to fulfill her request. He had joined the Twilight Talons because he abhorred slavery. If the Pactmasters got hold of the information in Vreva's head, what damage could they do to Andoran and the abolitionists? Torius didn't know enough to be a concern, but Vreva ...Reaching through the bars, he ran his fingers up her long neck, felt her tense, then gently brushed the tears from her grimy cheeks.

"No."

"Please, Torius. I can't let them take me."

"No, Vreva, I won't kill you, and I'll tell you why." He leaned down until their faces were only separated by the width of the bars and gazed into her eyes, determined to share with her his one shred of hope. "Stargazer won free! They're on their way to Katapesh. Celeste is waiting for me there. When she hears what happened, they'll come for us."

"Torius, we're aboard the Bloody Scourge." She gripped his hands with surprising strength, her eyes pleading. "Have you seen this ship? It's enormous. And Captain Nekhtal is an experienced commander. No disrespect to your ship or crew, but there's no way they can rescue us!"

Her skepticism brought a grin to his lips, and he pulled her so close their noses touched. "You don't know Celeste. She'll come for us." He had to believe it. It was the only thing keeping him from sinking into a pit of despair. "I've been in worse situations, Vreva."

"Promise me, Torius." She clutched him, and he could feel the tremors of pain, exhaustion, and desperation wracking her. "If they don't come, promise me you won't let the Pactmasters take me alive. Promise me that you'll send me to Calistria."

"I promise." Torius held her, willing himself to feel some of the hope he was trying to instill in her. "But they'll come. I know they'll come, and even the wrath of Zarina Capoli is no match for Celeste when her temper is up. Trust me on that."

Chapter Twenty-One

Spitting Mad

The first hysterical knock at the door snapped Celeste out of her stellar musing. The eastern sky glowed with approaching dawn, the stars fading, so the interruption didn't disturb her observations, but such a frantic rap at this hour never boded well. She had asked the harbormaster to send word when Stargazer arrived, but it was far too early for a messenger.

Unless the message is dire. Celeste cast her illusion as she slithered across the room. The knock sounded again, even louder this time, and a few Stargazers stirred from their slumber.

"What the devil?" Dukkol rolled out of his hammock, slung sailor-fashion between two ornate pillars, and hitched up his britches.

"I'll get it, Dukkol, but stand ready." Celeste used magic to work the latch, but the portal barely opened before a breathless gnome tumbled through. "Snick! What—"

"Trouble!" She turned and slammed the door, breathing hard. "They took Torius! They killed Grogul and knocked the captain on the head!"

Panic surged up from Celeste's gut and threatened to escape her throat in a wail of anguish. Her illusion failed. "Who? Who took him?"

The others were up now, sleep banished. Eyes wide, they crowded around the gnome.

"The Okeno guard!"

Celeste's panic surged up again, quickly morphing to rage. Vreva Jhafae had to be at the bottom of this. Did she get him wrapped up in some scheme? Celeste hissed and coiled, then forced calm. Speculation was a waste of time. She needed facts.

"Tell me exactly what happened, Sssnick, and tell it from the beginning."

Snick rattled off the story of their trip to Okeno and Vreva's offer of a position as a privateer for Andoran, then their meeting with Gold Wing, the ship's disastrous demise, and the taking of the slaver galley. By the time she related their trip to Almas and the letter of marque, Celeste's head was spinning.

"A letter of marque?" Torius signing on to raid slavers didn't surprise her—he hated slavery with a passion—but something didn't fit. "What does Vreva have to do with privateers and Gray Corsairs?"

"She's ...kinda working for Andoran." Snick cast a glance toward the crew, and pursed her lips. "Torius agreed to bring her a few things from Almas and ...take some stuff back every once in a while. It's complicated, but he was being paid well for it." She withdrew a leather pouch from her shirt and dumped the contents into the palm of her hand. Blue fire glittered in the morning light, a small fortune in dazzling sapphires. "This was his first payment. But something must have gone wrong. That damned inquisitor and her troops met Grogul and the captain on their way back to the ship."

"Inquisitor? What inquisitor?" Snick was leaving out important details.

"Well, okay, I left that part out, but it's all the same. The inquisitor's workin' for the Pactmasters, who are supporting the slavers against Andoran. Torius told us that much. She's the one who knocked the captain on the head." Snick cursed and stomped her foot. "Would'a put a ballista bolt through her myself, but she picked him up and held him like a shield. I couldn't ...not without killing Torius. And Grogul ...He tried to ...But they cut him down."

The Stargazers growled oaths and obscenities with ever-increasing vehemence.

"We couldn't stay! They would'a taken the whole ship!" The gnome choked up, and tears welled in her eyes.

Celeste had never seen her so miserable, but guilt and regret wouldn't help them. They had to get Torius back. "Where's Thillion? What's being done?"

"Aboard Stargazer. We don't know what to do." Snick bit her lip and squared her shoulders. "Don't even know if the captain's still alive. Thillion said we need information." She held out the handful of glittering gems. "Thought maybe you could use magic to find Torius. Said to buy whatever you need with this."

"Yesss ..." Celeste's mind leapt ahead. She felt sure they could formulate a workable plan, but they had to hurry. They had to find out where they'd taken Torius. "Yes! Snick, you come with me. Eutep, you too. Dukkol, arrange for a carriage. A fast carriage! Make that two! Lacy, pay the innkeeper. I want everyone and everything back aboard Stargazer, double time!"

The pirates scattered like leaves in a hurricane, sweeping through the suite like they were clearing the deck for action. Celeste barely remembered to cast her illusion again before rushing out of the inn to board the carriage.

"Snick, you sit inside with me. I have questions for you. Eutep, sit up with the driver. Have her take us to Kifalla's Mystical Emporium on the Avenue of Stars." Celeste knew she could buy whatever she needed there. She'd spent hours perusing the vast array of magical merchandise while purchasing the dream scroll. As the carriage lurched into motion, she leaned out the window and shouted up to the driver. "Don't spare the whip!"

∗ ∗ ∗

"Careful with that!" Snick's shrill command cut through the chatter on deck, and stopped the two sailors carrying a heavy wicker-wrapped jug. They looked at the little engineer with expressions like kids with their hands in a cookie jar. "Rig a harness and tackle to lower that!"

"But Snick, it don't weigh more'n—"

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" The gnome strode up to the two pirates, each easily four times her weight, and glared hard enough to quash any excuse. "Rig a harness and tackle! You drop that, and all the demons of the Abyss won't save your asses from what's inside! And stow it like I told you!"

"Aye, Snick." The sailors paled, gingerly placed the jar on the deck, and called for a rigger.

"What's in that?" Celeste crossed the gangplank with Eutep, both of them laden with packages.

Snick joined them, her temper vanished. "Oh, just a little surprise in case we have to—"

"Miss Celeste!"

Celeste lifted her eyes to the mizzenmast. Thillion perched precariously at the trestletrees, supervising two of the topmen. The tall elf reached out to grasp a shroud and slid down, his descent barely slower than a free fall.

"Snick told you what happened?" Thillion glanced at Eutep as he took her packages, but Celeste didn't have time for introductions, though she saw some other new faces about the deck.

"Yes." She opened the door to the sterncastle with a flick of magic—it was easier than using her hands—and preceded them into the cool confines of the ship. "Are we ready to sail?"

"Soon. I have the crew preparing to get underway, and rigging for battle, if it comes to that." They passed the galley, and the smell of lentil stew and bread knotted Celeste's stomach. She realized she hadn't eaten yet today. "We don't have a plan yet, but I want Stargazer ready."

"Good." At the door to her cabin, Celeste flipped the latch and entered. The familiar surroundings, the sight of her lover's clothing and gear, his scent, all struck her at once, and she stopped. Torius ...

"Miss Celeste? Are you all right?" The elf's fingers hesitantly brushed her shoulder.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." She shook off the feeling of dread and banished her transformation spell, slithering out of her restricting cloak. She was more comfortable in her natural form, and she needed all her faculties if she was going to pull this off. "I bought everything I need to try to find Torius, but I'm not familiar with these spells, and I may require help. Eutep, please put those packages on the chart table, then go find Dukkol. He'll show you what to do."

"Yes, ma'am." Eutep deposited the packages and hastened out the door.

As he left, Celeste realized that she'd had so much on her mind, she'd never asked him if he wanted to stay with her. Then again, he hadn't asked to leave, either.

Snick closed and locked the door. "Before you start, we should probably fill you in on a couple more details." She glanced at Thillion, and the first mate nodded. "We know why they snatched the captain."

Celeste glanced from the gnome to the elf, then back again. "Why?"

"Vreva's a Twilight Talon."

"A what?"

"A spy," Thillion explained. "She's a spy for the Andoren abolitionists, and she recruited the captain to be her intermediary. The Pactmasters contracted an inquisitor to root out the spy network in Okeno, and she obviously discovered the captain's involvement. She was waiting at the dock for him when he and Grogul returned from making the first delivery to Miss Jhafae."

"May all the gods damn that woman to Hell!" Celeste writhed in rage, her tail slapping the leg of the chart table hard enough to rattle the contents of their packages. "I knew she was behind this. She probably betrayed Torius to save her own skin!"

"We don't know what happened, Miss Celeste." Thillion gestured toward her packages. "But if we can discover where they've taken the captain, perhaps we'll learn that, too."

The elf's pragmatic reminder stifled Celeste's anger. They didn't know enough to blame the courtesan yet, but if that woman had sacrificed Torius to evade the inquisitor, Celeste would give her a whole new reason to fear for her life. "You're right. I must calm myself and concentrate. These spells are tricky, and I've never cast them before."

"Just tell us what you need."

"All right. Snick, please stand the mirror on the chart table. Thillion, bring me a hair from Torius's pillow or comb. I'll be casting the spells from scrolls. Once I've started, I don't dare cast my usual spell to manipulate the next scroll, so I'll need one of you to unroll them for me to read."

In moments they were ready. Tendrils of pungent smoke wafted up from a wedge of incense burning in front of the mirror. Celeste breathed deep to settle herself—This must work!—then carefully dropped the strand of Torius's hair onto the burning mote. It curled in the heat, and added its own acrid scent. Thillion held the requisite scroll unrolled for her. Celeste brought to mind the man she loved and read the arcane words on the parchment.

"Torius ..." Her reflection dimmed, lost in swirling mists as the smoke was drawn into the mirror's burnished silver surface. She focused all her thoughts on him, until she could almost sense him standing behind her, taste his scent on her tongue, feel his hand in her hair, his breath on the back of her neck ...Finally, the eddying haze began to clear.

It's working! He's alive!

Torius lay huddled on a straw-littered floor with his back to her, facing a row of iron bars, one arm outstretched. Celeste willed the vision to shift, and hissed when she saw that his arm was thrust through the bars to embrace another figure in the adjacent cell. This other person—a woman, it seemed, though it was hard to tell—wore only a burlap shift, her hair disheveled and limbs smeared with grime. Her arm entwined Torius's, and she clutched his hand to her breast. Celeste shifted the view again, and finally recognized the woman.

"Vreva!"

The intimacy of their embrace sent a shiver down her spine. What in Hell ...She shook herself from head to tail and renewed her focus on the mirror. She needed to find out where Torius had been imprisoned, and why Vreva was in there with him.

"Thillion, the second scroll."

At the rustle of parchment, she turned and read the next spell. It was a simple incantation, but Kifalla had warned Celeste that casting it through a scrying would be tricky. Concentrating again on Torius, but excluding Vreva from the magical connection, Celeste whispered, "Torius! Wake up!"

He stirred, lifting his head from the filthy floor to look around. "Did you ..."

"Torius! It's Celeste!"

"Celeste?" He bolted to his feet, his eyes casting around the room. "Where ..."

Vreva unfolded from her fetal position and asked hoarsely, "What is it?"

Celeste saw blood on her wrists, and dark bruises through the grime on her face and limbs. She'd been beaten. Still, Celeste couldn't feel much pity for the courtesan. Even if Vreva hadn't given up Torius up to save herself, she'd been the one to lure him into this mess.

In a loud whisper, Torius said to Vreva, "It's Celeste! I heard—"

"Quiet, Torius! Don't draw attention! She can't hear me. This is a magical connection only for you."

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Katapesh. We need to know where you are so we can come for you. It looks like you're in a gaol again, but where?"

"We're not in a gaol, we're in a brig. They're taking us to Katapesh. Celeste, you've got to hurry!"

"When did you set sail, and what ship?"

Torius furrowed his brow, then turned to Vreva. "What time was it when they brought you aboard?"

"About midday." Vreva struggled to sit up, hugging her knees to her chest. "The day after you were captured. Why?"

"Because the Stargazers are coming for us, just like I told you they would." He grinned at Vreva, his face shining with hope, but little of it was mirrored in the courtesan's features. "We're aboard the Bloody Scourge, Celeste. She's a two-decker slave galley. They're beating an easy cadence on the oars, and not heeling much. Making five knots, maybe six. You've got to get us out of here before we reach Katapesh."

"We're coming, Torius. Now, where is the brig located in the ship?"

His face fell. "I have no idea. Vreva, did you notice where the brig was when they brought you aboard?"

"No, but I've been here before." Surprisingly, the courtesan gave exact directions.

"All right, Torius. Hold fast." Celeste did some quick calculations in her head. They'd have to act quickly to catch Bloody Scourge in time. "We're coming for you. It'll be tonight. It's about midmorning now."

"Okay." He sat back down, his back to the bars. "Thank you, Celeste. I'm sorry I got us into this."

"You didn't get us into anything, Torius. Vreva did." He stiffened at that, and Celeste knew she'd said the wrong thing. This wasn't the time to lay blame. "Don't worry, Torius. We'll be there tonight. Be ready."

"I will be." He smiled, but she could see that it was strained. "I love you, Celeste."

"And I love you, my captain." Though she hated to abandon him, Celeste broke the magical connection and turned to Thillion and Snick. From the confused looks on their faces, she knew that they had only heard her side of the conversation.

"They're aboard a two-decked slave galley, Bloody Scourge, one day out of Okeno, headed this way."

"They?" Thillion asked.

"Vreva's with him. They're in the brig, behind bars and manacled."

"Better than the Okeno gaol, at least," Snick mumbled.

"It'll be difficult enough. We can't fight our way aboard a galley that size." Celeste bit her lip. "We need a plan to sneak him out of there without getting captured."

Thillion nodded, his puzzle chain suddenly rattling in his hands. "The timing will be tight, but I believe it can be done. If we're to meet them at sea, we should leave Katapesh no later than dusk. But a two-decker ..."

"Come up with whatever tricks are necessary, and spare no expense. I can access Torius's account at the Immaculate Repository."

"Good. That's where he was heading anyway." At Celeste's raised eyebrow, Snick explained. "The captain was going to clean out his accounts in Katapesh, just in case somethin' like this happened. I figure we may as well do it while we're here. Who knows if we'll ever be back. Besides, I've got plenty of ways to spend the captain's money!"

"Excellent!" Celeste's cloak flew off its hook and settled about her. She gave Thillion a nod. "Buy whatever you need, and whatever you think you might need if things go badly. Get the best you can find: potions, armor, weapons, whatever. If we have to fight a two-decker, we're going to need every advantage we can get."

"Aye, Miss Celeste. We'll be off the dock before sunset. Don't worry about the crew." Thillion's almond-shaped eyes narrowed, his mild features hardening. "They saw what happened to the captain and Grogul, and they've been spoiling for a fight."

"Good. Because I won't stop until we get Torius back."

Chapter Twenty-Two

A Choice to Live

It felt good to be at sea again. The motion of the ship, the cool breeze, and the glittering stars soothed Celeste's tortured nerves. The last frantic hours in Katapesh had been maddening. She had planned to rest when they got underway, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Torius. Now, with their quarry finally in sight, her anxiety sharpened to a razor edge.

She raised her telescope and analyzed their target. That's Bloody Scourge, all right. It hadn't been difficult for Celeste to calculate the approximate position of the slave galley, and the ship had been easy to spot, with her lights shining into the clear night. Her sheer size made the galley unmistakable.

"Closer," she whispered to Thillion.

"Aye! A point to starboard, Windy."

"Aye!" Windy Kate eased the wheel over.

Stargazer, black sails rendering her as dark as the night itself, approached in the larger ship's wake, her bow wave masked by the foam of Bloody Scourge's passage. They'd done this dozens of times, but here their tactics would change. So outnumbered, it would be suicide to board her like they did merchant ships. Instead, Thillion had devised a different plan.

And Astrus called me reckless ...Sneaking aboard a slave galley packed with two hundred slavers seemed just short of insanity to Celeste. "Closer."

She raised her telescope again and peered into the broad stern gallery windows. Most of the ship was dark, but the aft cabin remained brilliantly lit. Within, a dark-haired figure in gleaming chainmail and white tabard paced back and forth. Celeste glimpsed a golden symbol on the tabard's breast.

The inquisitor ...She tore her gaze away. This wasn't the time to consider revenge. Looking lower, she spied their goal, a porthole low on the leeward aft quarter. Barely five feet above the waterline, it would hopefully open into an empty sleeping cabin on the lower deck. Celeste lowered the telescope and looked down at Snick.

"Are you ready?"

"Aye!" Snick wore a close-fitting leather jerkin covered with tiny pockets, each holding a pick, tool, or vial, and soot-darkened daggers strapped to her wrists and ankles. A mixture of soot and pig fat darkened her face, hands, and hair. With her greasy locks tied back in a tight queue, she looked more like a goblin than a gnome. "Ready when you are."

"Good." Celeste's face, upper body, and hair were similarly blackened. She flexed to ensure that the snug leather harness girding her upper body didn't chafe. The harness held several scroll tubes, giving her a wider array of spells. She snapped her telescope closed and floated it into Thillion's waiting hand. "Close enough, Thillion. Hold station here."

"Aye!" He waved to Fenric to shorten sail. "We'll be ready for your return."

"Just keep an eye peeled." Celeste turned to Snick. "It's time."

"Right!" The gnome straddled Celeste and grasped the leather harness. "Ready!"

"Hold fast!" Celeste withdrew a blue-tinted potion and downed it. Looking out at the dark sea, she hoped the enchantment was working. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell until they went over the side. She cast two spells from scrolls in quick succession, and she and Snick faded from view. "Farewell, Thillion."

"Pirate's luck to you." The elf touched his brow in salute.

Celeste slithered down to the main deck and over the rail. As they dropped toward the water, she heard Snick's panicked yip and felt the gnome's legs tighten around her, but the naga barely touched the surface before the magic of the potion buoyed her up. She cast yet another spell, and her coils writhed with speed, propelling her across the waves like a bolt from a crossbow. In moments, they passed beneath the view of the glowing stern windows and reached the porthole. Now came the tricky part. Though the seas weren't high, the waves rose and fell, and the ship rolled with them.

"Hold still!" the gnome hissed in her ear, her voice barely above the rush of water.

"I'm trying!" A large wave passed beneath her, and she jostled her rider badly.

"Oh, for Desna's sake!" Snick muttered something under her breath. A soft squeak of hinges followed. "Got it! Now, get me up there!"

Celeste arched, and Snick's weight left her back. Looking up, she could see the dark opening in the hull, but not inside. She heard nothing over the hiss of foam streaming down the ship's side, the beat of the taskmaster's drum, and the rip-rip of oars. After a disturbingly long moment, the gnome's head poked out of the port.

Her invisibility failed! Something must have—

"Come on!"

Celeste didn't hesitate. She heaved herself up and through the port. It was a tight squeeze, and her harness and scroll cases hung up on the edge, but she slithered through. What she found on the other side, however, brought her up short. Two corpses swung in their hammocks. One's throat gaped wide and bloody. The other had a dagger stuck hilt-deep in his eye.

Snick retrieved her dagger, cleaned it on the corpse's collar, and sheathed it with a predatory grin. "Desna's luck, they were both sleeping, but I need a new spell."

Celeste shuddered at the gnome's cold tone and brutal efficiency. She knew Snick didn't care for violence. The bloodlust in her eyes seemed disturbingly incongruous. "You ...um ..."

"Butchered them in their sleep." Snick tossed her head as if dismissing a trivial inconvenience. "Yep. So cast the spell already. Sand through the glass, you know!"

"I just never thought of you as much of a killer." Celeste slithered forward and cast the spell, but before the gnome's features faded from view, she caught a glimpse of a dangerous sneer.

"They killed my friend and snatched my captain, Celeste. Bastards don't know who they messed with!"

"All right." Celeste could only agree with the sentiment. "Lead on. I'll be right behind you. Two decks down, and forward about fifty feet. Look for a companionway amidships."

"Right." The door to the cabin swung open to dim lamplight. "Stay close and keep quiet!"

∗ ∗ ∗

A thump outside the door snapped Vreva from a horrific nightmare: hard blows, pliers, the slap of leather against her back, torturing magic, and Zarina's face contorted with madness. She shivered, and the pain of all her torments returned. Not a nightmare ...A memory ...

Another thump, quieter this time, and she grasped Torius desperately. Dear Calistria, no ...Behind her, Torius tensed. Reluctantly, she released her stranglehold on his hand, immediately missing the warm connection to another living being.

"Someone's outside," he whispered in her ear. "It might just be the guard being relieved."

Or it might be something else ...someone else. Vreva's gut twisted. Pain was one thing, but she couldn't face Zarina's eyes again.

The lock clicked, and she grasped Torius through the bars. "Now, Torius! Don't let them take me! Send me to Calistria! Please!"

He reached through and looped the rough chain of his shackles around her neck. The cold iron against her throat sent a chill down her back, but she welcomed it. One quick jerk and it would be over. She'd be with Saffron again.

He hesitated. "It might not be—"

The door creaked, and Vreva found her eyes drawn to the gaping portal ...a black face, huge wide eyes, a bloody dagger ...then another shape, long and sinuous ...a dark serpent ...

"Celeste! Snick!" Torius flipped the chain from around her neck and staggered to his feet.

"What?" It took a moment for recognition to seep through Vreva's terror.

"Why were you holding her like that, Toriusss?" Celeste hissed.

"Come on, Celeste! It's not what you think. I wasn't—"

"Everybody shut the hell up!" Snick ordered. "We're in shit so deep I can't breathe, and you want to bicker? Come on, Celeste. Help me. He's too heavy for me to lift alone."

"Fine." Celeste turned to lunge at something beyond the door, then dragged the limp form of a guard into the brig. She dumped him in the corner and shook loose her fangs, then reared back up and shot a glare at Vreva. The courtesan swallowed hard as she noticed that the guard's throat had been torn out, and the naga's lips were smeared with blood. Celeste turned toward Torius with a decidedly less hostile gaze.

"My captain." She slithered to his cell.

Torius reached through the bars and drew Celeste into a kiss, heedless of the blood. "I knew you'd come."

Vreva watched the two lovers, and unbidden memories of tender moments with Zarina came to her. She'll never let me go. The relief she'd felt at seeing their rescuers melted away. She might escape the Bloody Scourge, but the inquisitor would track her down. She would never relent.

The lock on Torius's cell door clicked open, and Snick scooted inside to make quick work of the manacles on his wrists and ankles.

"One down," she muttered as she darted to the door to Vreva's cell.

"Leave her, Snick! We have what we came for."

Vreva's heart sank. She should have known better than to hope.

Snick froze at Celeste's command, and looked toward Torius. "Captain?"

"Unlock it, Snick."

Celeste reared back. "Toriusss! She is the reassson you're in here! Jussst because you had an intimate moment—"

"Celeste, there was nothing intimate about it! We were just ...getting ready in case it wasn't you coming in." Torius rubbed his wrists. "She asked me to kill her."

"Kill her?" Snick opened Vreva's cell, then knelt to insert her picks into the manacles. "Why?"

"Because she can't let herself be interrogated by the Pactmasters." Torius moved to the fallen guard and took his cutlass and dagger.

"Then kill her, and let'sss go!"

"Celeste!" The sword drooped in Torius's grasp. "You can't be serious!"

"I am ssserious! She's the whole cause of this! She tricked you into helping her, and got you caught." She turned to Vreva. "Thisss is all her fault!"

Vreva looked into the naga's black eyes and found not a speck of pity, but she did see something she hadn't expected. Release. Escape. Solace from the pain. Saffron ...

"She's right." Vreva pulled her hands away from Snick, gripped the iron bars, and heaved herself to her feet. She staggered, her legs stiff, and every ache, bruise, and contusion flaring in pain. She steadied herself and met the naga's rage with cold conviction, putting every ounce of sincerity she could into her lie. "I tricked you, Torius. I used magic to make you want to help me. Besides, Zarina will never let me go. She'll hunt me down. Taking me along will only put you and your crew in more danger. Please. You promised." Please, Calistria, make him send me to you.

"No." Torius's tone brooked no dissent. "No, we're not going to kill her, Celeste. She's lying. I made my own choice. All she did was make the offer. It was my fault that we were caught, not hers!"

"Torius, please!" Vreva pulled herself along the bars, tried to take a step toward him, but the room spun, and she sagged. Unexpectedly, she didn't hit the floor. Instead, a strong arm encircled her waist.

"Celeste, no more arguments. And Vreva, don't ask me again. We're all getting out of here."

Tears seeped from Vreva's eyes. Torius was facing down the woman he loved ...for her.

"Not going anywhere unless I can get these manacles off her." Snick twisted and turned her picks in the locks, to no avail. "Bloody damned ...Why can't I get this?"

"They're magical." Vreva had forgotten that unwelcome fact.

Celeste squinted at her and murmured something, then drew a sharp breath. "She's right. They are magical. But why—"

"She's a sorcerer, Celeste." Torius sounded impatient. "There's a lot I have to tell you, but it can wait until we get back to Stargazer. We have to get out of here! Snick, is there anything you can do with them?"

"Oh, sure! We'll just do this the easy way." The gnome drew an odd-looking wand from a pocket of her jerkin. It looked like a hundred keys all melted and twisted together around a grinning skeleton. Pointing it at the locked manacles, she said, "Tickle my tumblers." The bindings popped open. Snick tucked the wand into a pocket, mumbling, "Wizards really need to stifle the humor when they make this stuff up. It's embarrassing!"

Warmth spread through Vreva as her magic returned, and with it a sliver of something she had never thought to feel again: hope.

"Killing her probably would have been kinder." Celeste slithered to the door and cocked her head to listen. "We're in worse trouble than you think, Torius. I used up all my invisibility spells dealing with guards on our way in. We won't get out of here without a fight, especially if someone's got to carry her."

"Oh, right!" Snick withdrew a slim vial from her jerkin. "Wasn't even thinking. Here, Vreva. Drink up. We gotta go!"

Vreva stared at the vial in her hand.

"Vreva." Torius's voice was low and intense. "You can do this. You can escape, but you've got to want to live."

"I do want to live." The truth in the words surprised her, but there it was. What had changed in the last few minutes? Just that sliver of hope. Vreva popped the tiny cork and downed the contents of the vial. Cool magic washed through her, easing some of her pain, lending her strength, and steadying her legs. "And I can help us escape."

"How?" Celeste looked at her skeptically.

Vreva stepped out of Torius's supporting embrace and murmured a spell. Torius vanished. Celeste hissed, but the captain's disembodied voice reassured her.

"It's okay, Celeste. I told you she was a sorcerer. If we're going to get out of here, you're going to have to accept her help."

Vreva paused. "How will we stay together, and what's your plan for getting off the ship?"

"Easy!" Snick grabbed Celeste's harness and held out her other hand. "Once we're on deck, we just jump overboard. Stargazer's right on our heels, and they'll scoop us up."

Vreva's stomach knotted anew, but she felt Torius's warm hand grasp hers, and she cast the rest of the spells. As they slipped out of the brig, she leaned in close to where she hoped Torius's ear was. She didn't want Celeste to overhear. "Torius, you'll have to help me in the water. I can't swim."

She barely caught his anxious reply of, "Marvelous!"

∗ ∗ ∗

The door ahead opened, and Torius caught a whiff of fresh sea air. Snick squeezed his hand and tugged him forward. He pulled Vreva along in turn, and they crept onto the deck. Though the night watch was sparse compared to the ship's full complement, there were still plenty of slavers about. Their goal, the ship's rail, stood only thirty feet away.

A deep "whuuuf" from behind and above stopped them in their tracks.

Atop the quarterdeck stood the captain of the Bloody Scourge. At his side, fully waist-high on the half-orc, squatted a scaly, misshapen beast sporting teeth as long as Torius's fingers. It sniffed the air and growled, staring straight at them, a parody of a bird dog pointing at a hidden pheasant. Nekhtal's hand drifted to his sword—My sword!—as he scanned the deck.

"Crap!" Snick's whispered curse snapped their paralysis. "Come on!"

Nekhtal's eyes flicked to the sound of the gnome's voice. The hound strained at its chain, growling and snapping, gouts of putrid saliva spraying from its maw. The slaver captain jerked a pin from the beast's iron collar, and the chain fell away. "Kill!"

The unfettered creature leapt from the quarterdeck and charged.

"Move!" Torius released his grips on Snick and Vreva and drew his stolen cutlass. If he could deter the beast long enough for the others to reach the rail, he knew he could break free and dive overboard. But the ravening beast wasn't charging at him, but to his left—toward Vreva. He reached out to jerk her out of its way, but his hand met only air.

"Vreva! Move!" Torius could only hope that she had moved as he stepped to intercept the beast's charge. Before it reached him, thunder split the air, and a bolt of searing electricity blasted the creature off its feet.

Celeste flickered into visibility.

Shouts rang out as the slavers on deck drew weapons, and Captain Nekhtal bellowed commands. The huge hound rolled to its feet and snarled, ignoring the deep burn in its pustular hide.

"Go!" Celeste slithered past Torius, crashing into the ravening beast in a tangle of flashing fangs and snapping jaws. The naga wrapped her long black coils around the hound and buried her fangs in its thick hide. Its powerful jaws latched onto her, teeth punching through her scales.

"Like Hell I will!" Torius lunged, cutting a deep furrow in the thing's broad back. The hound released its hold on Celeste to snap at him, it jaws clashing an inch from his leg with the force of a bear trap. Celeste struck again, burying her fangs to the gums in the beast's neck. Flexing her powerful coils, she flung the mass of muscle and bone aside. The creature flopped and tried to stand, but Celeste's poison had done its work.

Sailors advanced hesitantly, blades and belaying pins raised, but daunted by the sudden appearance of a lunar naga. Clearly, there were too many for Torius and Celeste to fight off.

"To the rail!" they both shouted together. They shared an astonished glance, and he flashed a grin. It felt good to be together again. Before they could even turn, however, the sterncastle door slammed open and the inquisitor strode forth. Her eyes snapped to Torius and Celeste, then widened and swept the deck.

"Vreva!"

Torius heard a gasp. The inquisitor obviously heard it, too.

Stepping forward, she cried, "Abadar, reveal that which is hidden!" A golden light pulsed from the holy icon at her hip, and in its wave of illumination, Vreva and Snick flickered into sight. The gnome crouched on the rail, ready to jump, but Vreva stood stock-still, staring at the inquisitor as if transfixed.

"Nets! Capture them!" the inquisitor shouted. "Don't let them get over the side!"

Celeste cast another bolt of lightning, not at the inquisitor, but toward the quarterdeck. Captain Nekhtal leapt aside as the spear of energy struck the ship's binnacle, blasting the compass, the wheel, and the helmsman into splinters and hunks of charred meat.

Brilliant! Torius thought, as they fled toward the rail. Disabling the ship's steering would earn them valuable time, if they could just make the rail. That hope dimmed as a torrent of slavers flooded onto the deck.

Captain Nekhtal struggled to his feet. "Shoot them!"

"No!" The inquisitor's shout was drowned out by the rip of crossbows.

Celeste and Torius fled amid a hail of bolts. One burned across Torius's neck, and another plunged into Celeste's scales with a sickening crunch. Just ahead of them, Vreva raised her hands and uttered arcane words. A bolt caught her in the side just as the spell manifested, the impact spinning her around. A mist formed over the deck, so thick that Torius lost sight of Vreva even as he flung an arm around her waist in passing. Casting aside his cutlass, he hoisted her over his shoulder. More bolts buzzed past, the archers' aim ruined by the impenetrable fog.

"Overboard, Snick!" Torius heard a splash and caught a glimpse of Celeste's tail slithering over the side. He twisted and let his momentum tumble them over the rail. An oar slammed into his shoulder an instant before the sea enveloped them. Holding onto Vreva, he kicked off his boots and oriented himself. The surface seemed a mile away, but he kicked hard and finally broke through, gulping sweet salt air. Vreva hung limp in his grasp, unconscious. As he crested a wave, he sighted Bloody Scourge, already a far bowshot away and receding fast.

"Celeste!"

"Here, Torius!"

He caught a glimpse of her, Snick clinging to her harness like a half-drowned rat. They swam toward one another, and met just as he heard a hail on the wind. He looked around but couldn't see Stargazer, and neither, he imagined, could they see him.

"Celeste! They can't see us! How—"

"Grab onto my harness!"

He gripped the stout leather with his free hand, fighting to keep Vreva's head out of the water. He felt Celeste writhe, and her scales came alight with a shimmering glow.

"Ha! I forgot you could do that!"

"There! Two points to port!"

"Cargo net in the water! Ready on the mains'l haul!"

Torius thought he'd never heard a sweeter sound than Thillion's orders, nor seen a more beautiful sight than his ship looming out of the darkness. A cargo net hung suspended out on a boom, ready to scoop them up like a prize catch.

"This is gonna hurt!"

Snick's prediction proved accurate. They struck the net hard, and Torius fought to grab hold while hanging on to Vreva. Celeste's long tail lashed, smacking into him as she thrashed to grasp one of the thick hemp ropes with her teeth. Amid shouts and a gut-wrenching lurch, they were hauled out of the water.

"Haul inboard! Hard aport, Windy, course one-four-zero. Fenric, set all sail she'll bear."

A chorus of "Aye" rang out as the heavy net swung over the side. When they thumped to the deck, soaked and half-drowned, Thillion stood there waiting.

"Welcome aboard, Captain!" His grin faded when he saw the blood. Fortunately, they were prepared for injuries. "Potions! Healer's kit, quick!"

"Celeste! Are you all right?" Torius hastily lay Vreva down and turned to his lover.

"I'll live." Celeste winced as Snick dropped down from her back. "I'll feel better after someone cuts this crossbow bolt out of me."

"Got it!" Snick produced a knife.

Celeste gasped as the gnome inserted the blade between her scales.

"Don't move!" Snick cut the barbed bolt free and pulled it from the wound. "There. Now a potion."

Fenric produced one, and she eagerly drank it down, sighing with relief. The ghastly bite wound in her side closed to a puckered scab.

"That's better. Thank you, Snick. I—"

"Captain!" Thillion's worried tone turned their heads. "Miss Jhafae doesn't seem to be breathing."

"Gozreh's guts! Snick, get over here."

The gnome squished over and knelt beside the sodden courtesan. "Bolt's in a bad spot, lodged between a couple'a ribs. And there's that not-breathing thing. Gotta get that bolt out before healin' her up. Good she's unconscious, 'cause it's gonna hurt." She wiped her bloody knife on her pant leg and looked to Torius. "I'll make the cut, Captain. You hold her ribs apart until I get the bolt out. Then we'll give her a potion."

"Um ...okay." The thought of Snick cutting Vreva open made him feel ill, but he could hardly refuse to help. "Go ahead."

Snick sliced open Vreva's sodden shift to expose the wound. Using her shirt sleeve, she wiped some of the filth off of Vreva's pale skin, then parted the smooth flesh with a single deft pass of the blade. Wedging her slim fingers into the wound, she pulled it open until the crimson fissure gaped, and blood welled in a frothy pink flow.

"Bolt's in her lung. Here! Hold this open."

Swallowing hard, Torius wedged his fingers into the warm, living wound, and pulled the ribs apart.

"Good!" Snick pulled carefully on the bolt, slicing the pink lung tissue away from the barbed tip. Finally, it came free, and Torius pulled his fingers from the wound. "Now! Give her a potion!"

Fenric dumped the contents into Vreva's mouth.

"She's got to swallow it, and she's still not breathing," Snick observed.

"She probably took in some water."

Snick pressed hard on Vreva's flat belly, and water gushed from the courtesan's mouth. "Yep, she's waterlogged, but I don't want to push too much. Might be broken ribs, and that lung ..."

"Give me another potion!" Fenric pressed a bottle into his captain's hand. Torius turned Vreva's head to empty the water from her mouth, then bent her neck back to open her windpipe, and poured the contents of the bottle into her mouth.

"But if she can't swallow it ..."

"I can get it down." Pinching Vreva's nose tight, he put his mouth over hers and exhaled hard into her lungs, forcing the potion down with it. He heard a gurgling sound, but still she didn't breathe. He tried again, taking a deep breath and exhaling into her mouth.

He was rewarded by a sudden choking retch, and a mouthful of seawater, blood, and vomit. Torius turned aside and spat, nearly retching himself, but the fit of coughing and spitting from Vreva was worth it. She was alive.

The closely packed crowd of Stargazers erupted in a cheer.

"Belay that!" Torius stood and regarded his crew with a mixed annoyance and affection. "What's the use in sailing with black canvas and no lights if we're going to tell Bloody Scourge where we are with the noise? Everyone back to work, and keep it quiet."

The crew scattered, unabashed by his scolding. Perhaps the giddy smile stretched across his face took the sting out of his words. He and Vreva were both alive and safe, rescued from a fate worse than death by the woman he loved.

"Fenric, take Vreva to my cabin and wrap her up. Get her some food, and a hot toddy wouldn't hurt if she'll drink it. Snick, see to her injuries."

"Mind if I clean up first, Captain?" The gnome ran her fingers through her greasy hair.

"Good idea." Torius wiped the bloody grime from his face, dreaming of a hot bath. Unfortunately, he couldn't leave the deck quiet yet with that galley so close. "Thillion, get someone aloft with a spyglass and keep an eye on Bloody Scourge." In moments, only he and Celeste remained, grinning at one another in silent, silly adoration. Torius slid one hand down her scaly side. "Thank you, Celeste. You saved my life. Again."

"Well ...I do love you, you know."

"And that was absolutely brilliant blasting their binnacle!"

"Thank you."

He reached to brush his hand through her darkened hair, but stopped at her warning look.

"I don't think you want to do that. It's pretty foul."

"I don't care." Undeterred, he ran his fingers through the greasy, sodden strands. "I love you more than anything in the world." He bent forward to kiss her, but as their lips neared, they both suddenly stopped, eyes wide.

Celeste looked a little ill. "Ah ...maybe we should brush our teeth before ..."

"Good idea. Your breath smells like that dog thing."

"And yours smells like Vreva."

"Oh, yeah." Torius wiped his mouth, grimacing at the taste. "Sorry about that."

"It's all right. But did you have to kiss her in front of everybody?"

"Celeste! It wasn't—"

Laughing, she winked and nudged him with one of her coils. "I know, Torius."

"Can you watch her until Snick comes to check? She's been through a lot."

She grimaced again. "For you, my captain, yes. But I don't promise to be nice."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Healing a Broken Heart

Thank you, Fenric." Celeste exchanged a bundle of Torius's dry clothes for a tray of hot porridge, toasted cheese, and steaming hot toddy. She floated the food to the table. "Could you sit with Vreva while I go get cleaned up? Snick should be here soon."

"Sorry, Miss Celeste, but the captain needs me on deck. Without Grogul an' all ..." He pointed to the nook where Torius kept his shaving things. "There's soap and water there."

"Yes, well, all right. Tell Torius that if he needs an accurate position to send word right away." She knew where they were, but any excuse to get out of Vreva's company would suit her very fine.

"Aye." Fenric glanced to the silent shivering courtesan and nodded. "Give a shout if you need anything."

"I will." As the door closed, Celeste turned to Vreva. She sat swathed in blankets on Torius's bunk, her back against the hull. She had neither moved nor spoken since Fenric brought her in, but only stared blankly across the cabin. "Are you hungry?"

No response. Celeste approached cautiously, wondering if the woman's mind had snapped. Or she might be ignoring me because I suggested killing her. It seemed a viable option at the time. Celeste still blamed Vreva for this whole thing, but she'd told Torius she'd watch over her.

"You should drink some of this." Celeste lifted the steaming toddy and passed it under Vreva's nose. "It'll warm you and settle your nerves."

The pungent aroma of cloves, honey, and spiced rum seemed to revive the woman slightly. She blinked, but only looked at the cup and shook her head.

"All right, but you should take something." Celeste floated the cup back onto the tray.

Vreva just stared.

Not knowing what else to do, Celeste started cleaning herself of the greasy residue that darkened her skin and hair. Her face was clean, and her hair a mottled gray, when the door opened to admit Snick with a steaming kettle and her healer's kit.

"Came to see my patients!" The gnome's face shone a healthy pink, her hair a mass of wet, green ringlets like a mop of seaweed. Putting the kettle down, she turned to Celeste. "You still got any hurts?"

"I'm fine, Snick." Celeste peered down at the tiny puckered scar of the arrow wound, then the larger scabbed wound from the bite. It still ached, but she could move well enough. "There's just a scab left, and that'll go away next time I shed my skin."

"Maybe, but that thing was pretty icky. Wouldn't want you to break out in a fever." She approached with a bottle of liquid and a pair of tweezers. "Bite like that can go septic if it's not clean."

"I don't think it's—"

"She's right."

They both looked to Vreva in surprise. "What?"

"I said, she's right." Vreva focused on them, but her expression remained blank. "Trollhound bites can cause blood fever. You should let her clean the wound with an astringent, and drink some willow bark tea."

"All right." Celeste nodded to Snick, and held still as the gnome probed the wound and scrubbed it with witch hazel. It stung, but was over quickly.

"Okay, now your turn." Snick turned to Vreva with a smile and an easy manner. "I brought soap and hot water. Our little dip in the sea washed off some of the grime, but we'll have to scrub off the rest to see if there's any more damage."

Celeste picked up her navigational instruments and started for the door.

"There's no need." Vreva huddled back in the bunk, clutching the blankets. "You shouldn't have saved me. Now Zarina will be hunting you, too."

Exasperated, Celeste turned back. "Maybe you're right, but we did save you. The least you could do is show a little gratitude! You told Torius that you wanted to live."

"I'm sorry." Vreva's eyes dropped. "I should be grateful, but ...I know you're angry with me, and I don't blame you. This is all my fault. I asked Torius to help me, knowing it would put him in danger. I seduced Zarina, and she fell in love with me. She'll never let me go." Her eyes lifted, and there were tears trailing down her cheeks. "There's only one escape for me. If you want to kill me, Celeste, do it now and save Snick the effort of healing me."

"I'm not going to kill you." Celeste sighed, put her things down, and slithered over to the bunk. "I understand you've been hurt, Vreva, but you've got to put it behind you. Eat something, let Snick get you cleaned up, and get some rest. We'll need your help if that galley decides to come after us."

"My help?" A cough of humorless laughter shook Vreva's shoulders. "Much more of my help and you'll all be on Zarina's rack!"

"By the stars!" Celeste swore. "What did she do to you to make you give up like this? I've been a slave before—more than once, in fact. I've longed for death rather than continue living in darkness and chains. But once I was free, I thanked the stars and embraced life. You're free now. How can you want to simply lie down and die?"

"When Zarina discovered that I'd seduced her as a means to interfere with her investigation, she ...she was angry."

"And she tortured you."

"Yes." Vreva sighed, and another tear escaped to run down her cheek. "She ...I don't remember most of it, but I saw what it did to her. She's ...beyond reason, Celeste. When she couldn't get information from me, she had me dragged through the Fleshfairs for everyone to see." A shiver wracked her. She hugged her knees to her chest and turned away. "They ...entertained themselves, beating me ..." Silence hung heavily for a long moment, Vreva's shoulders heaving as she wept. Finally, the courtesan raised her head, wiping away tears. "She ...killed Saffron ...and ..."

"Saffron? Your cat?" Celeste stared, bewildered.

"My familiar. He ..." She squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders heaving with sobs. "He died trying to help me. He was my ...only friend. I don't want ..."

"Desna weeps." Snick retrieved a vial from her bag and dumped the contents into the hot toddy, then handed the steaming cup to Vreva. "We're your friends. Drink this. You'll sleep."

Vreva took the cup in her hands. She sniffed the steam rising from the surface and gave the gnome a knowing look. "Knock-out toxin?"

Snick nodded and patted the courtesan's knee. "You need rest. Don't worry, Vreva. You're safe here. Nobody's going to hurt you."

"You're wrong, Snick, but thank you." She drained the cup in one long draught, and handed it back. In moments, her eyes drooped closed, and her head fell to her knees.

"Help me, Celeste." Snick eased the courtesan down onto Torius's bunk. "I've got to see how badly she's hurt."

"She's already had two healing potions." Celeste used her magic to help arrange the blankets and pillows. "Surely her wounds are healed."

"Don't think so."

Snick pulled back the blankets, and used a scissor to slice open the shift and pull it off. With the soapy water and washcloth, she wiped away the grime to reveal the full extent of Vreva's injuries. Her pale skin showed a gruesome tapestry of torment. Deep bruises and contusions, scrapes, and welts marred her flesh. Her ribs were a mass of black and blue, and fingernails they'd thought caked with grime were actually black with blood. When they rolled her over, Snick caught her breath. Vreva's back had been virtually flayed. Two healing potions had barely touched her injuries.

Celeste reared back and hissed. "By the stars, it's a wonder she's alive!"

"And no wonder she wanted to die." Snick poured potion after potion down Vreva's throat until every mark, bruise, and welt vanished. Picking up the washcloth once more, she started to thoroughly clean the woman's body.

Celeste wanted to leave, to forget Vreva's appalling condition, but she felt compelled to stay. Her cheeks burned with shame when she considered how she had blamed Vreva, assuming the worst of her. Snick's gasp drew her attention.

The gnome held back Vreva's matted hair, revealing a vivid red brand of SPY on her forehead. "Celeste, another potion!" She poured the potion down the courtesan's throat, but the mark wouldn't fade. "Those motherless bastards! It must be some kind of magic."

Celeste felt ill, staring at the brand until Snick nudged her.

"Let's give it a break." Snick covered the sleeping woman in clean blankets. "I've got to get some clean water to wash her hair, and you need to go determine our position."

"All right." Celeste gathered up her navigational instruments, and slithered to the door.

"And Celeste, we need to tell the captain what happened to her." Snick nodded to the sleeping courtesan. "He needs to know how badly she was hurt."

"What do you mean? He knows she was injured."

"Yeah, but not like this." Snick followed her out of the cabin. "This isn't some battle wound, Celeste. She was tortured. That can do things to a person's mind, make them act unpredictably. If we're being chased, the captain needs to know if he can depend on her."

It made sense, but Celeste still felt uncomfortable. If Vreva hadn't revealed the worst of her ordeal to Torius, then telling him without her consent felt like a breach of trust. "We don't know if they're after us yet. We shouldn't tell him unless it's necessary."

"All right." Snick nodded and ducked into the galley.

Celeste didn't look forward to such a conversation. She and Torius hadn't seen each other in weeks. The last thing she wanted was the specter of Vreva Jhafae hanging over their reunion.

∗ ∗ ∗

Torius stepped out on deck and reveled in the faint blush of predawn sky and fresh sea air. He was alive, free, well fed, and clean. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but what he'd gotten had been deep and sweet, after an even sweeter reunion with Celeste. Their bond had been renewed, and he felt whole once again. Another glorious day at sea. He had his ship underneath him, and his crew at his command.

Everyone but Grogul.

Torius's mood slipped a notch. The loss of his friend weighed heavily. Like a good, firm anchorage with a blow coming on, Grogul's courage and friendship had been something Torius depended upon. Now he was gone.

"Pirate's curse," Torius muttered as he climbed to the quarterdeck. He had to put the loss behind him, focus on the future, their next step. Today, that depended on what the morning sun revealed. They'd lost the galley's lights only two hours after their escape. It seemed likely that they'd given Nekhtal the slip in the dark.

"How goes it, Thillion?"

"Very well, Captain. The winds and seas are down, but we're still on course for Jalmeray. How are you feeling?"

"Excellent, all things considered." At Celeste's insistence, he'd taken a healing potion for his injuries. Apparently, they had spent quite a bit of his fortune stocking up on curative magic, so there was no sense in skimping.

Soursop topped the steps with a tray of coffee and fresh biscuits. As the morning glow brightened, they sipped coffee and ate biscuits slathered with butter and honey. Snick came on deck looking weary, with none of her usual morning quips.

The first rays of sunlight had just touched the topmast pennant when Lacy Jane's voice called from the main top. "Sails! Two points on the port quarter!"

Torius stiffened. Striding to the taffrail, he raised his glass. From his lower vantage, the horizon shone clear. "What color?"

"Yellow, sir! She's hull down, but she's a lateen three-master. Gotta be the Scourge."

"Gozreh's guts!" Torius began to pace. "It should have taken them hours to fix their steering. How did they pick up our trail?"

"Two possibilities come to mind, sir." Thillion fiddled with his puzzle chain like a string of prayer beads. "Luck, or magic."

"Gotta be that godsdamned inquisitor!" Snick surprised Torius with her vehemence.

"Gozreh damn that woman!" Vreva had been right. Zarina wasn't going to let her go. Torius squinted aloft. The topmast pennant flapped lazily, the wind slacking. He did a little quick math in his head. "We've got at least twelve miles on them, maybe more. If we can increase our speed, maybe they'll exhaust their rowers trying to keep up."

"They may have two full shifts in chains belowdecks," Thillion reminded him.

"Let's hope not. Lacy!" Torius squinted up to the main top. "Keep an eye on that ship. Let me know if they're catching up."

"Aye, sir!"

"Slaves, Captain!" Snick's mood shifted from gloom to something more calculating. "If they do catch us, we might be able to use their own slaves against 'em."

"Use them how?"

"If I can get aboard, I can free quite a few before the crew's any wiser, especially if they're distracted by a fight." She withdrew the skeleton-key wand from her belt and twirled it in nimble fingers. "Galley slaves are picked for strength and fed well. They'll be madder than a nest of hornets, too."

Torius cocked an eyebrow. "Not bad, if it comes to that. We'll try to outrun them today, then lose them tonight. If that fails, we'll have to fight. I'd rather not get into a boarding action, but we have to be ready." He fixed them with a level stare. "If we come rail to rail, we've got to take the fight to their deck. If we let them board Stargazer, they'll overwhelm us."

Snick grinned with her old mischievous guile. "I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, Captain, but I brought aboard a new surprise for my babies."

"I hope your surprises can compete with the Scourge's broadside and two catapults!" Torius chewed his lip. "Getting close enough to use your babies will cost lives. They'll rake us like a wildcat. And they've got that inquisitor. She's a caster."

"We have casters of our own," Thillion pointed out. "Miss Celeste, and you say that Miss Jhafae is a sorcerer ..."

Torius considered Vreva. "I don't know how much we can expect from Vreva. She's a spy, not a warrior."

Snick gave him a significant glance. "Yeah, Captain, about Vreva, that's somethin' we've gotta talk about."

"First things first, Captain." Thillion glanced aloft. "Shall we bear off the wind a point or two and rig stuns'ls?"

"Yes. Bend every sail she'll carry. We've got all day to plan tactics if we can't outrun them." Torius looked aloft with a professional eye. "Put her on a beam reach, and rig the whole shooting match. Shift cargo to port to stiffen her up."

They nodded and went to work. Torius raised his glass and looked aft. He still couldn't see Bloody Scourge from his lower vantage, and he hoped he never would.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lessons in Vengeance

The click of the cabin door stirred Vreva not from sleep, but from deep thought. She welcomed the disturbance. She had far too much to think about, most of it bad. A boot scuffed, and the door clicked closed. Vreva lay warm and snug in Torius's bed, her back to the cabin, legs braced against the roll of the ship. The physical injuries were gone, leaving behind deeper wounds.

Saffron ...Zarina ...She pressed her eyes closed, forcing years of mental discipline to order her thoughts. Safe ...I'm safe ...Remember the training ...Calm ...Wall off the pain, the fear ...Separate yourself from it ...

"How is she?" Torius's voice reached her as a bare whisper.

Scales rustled on fabric. Celeste had apparently been watching over her. "Better, I think. She slept soundly, and her breathing is steady." The naga's scales hissed across the floor, then came the soft, unmistakable sound of a kiss. "Did you get any rest?"

"I slept in the guest cabin for a few hours. I'm headed back there now, but I thought I'd check with you first." He paused. "Snick told me what happened to Vreva."

Calm ... Vreva walled off the memory of Zarina's madness, her tearful golden eyes, her hoarse cries of "I loved you!" She would deal with that later. Right now, she had to take control, not succumb to the pain.

"I need to know if we can depend on her if things get dicey. Bloody Scourge is still gaining. If we can't shake them off in the dark, we're in for a fight tomorrow."

Zarina ...But Vreva pushed that memory behind the wall as well. Zarina's gone. She's dead.

"I don't know, Torius. She seems hurt, but not physically. She's been through a lot."

"Too much, maybe." He sighed. "I don't know what to do with her if we have to fight. If she can't—"

Enough!

"Maybe you should ask me, instead of talking about me like I'm not here." Vreva rolled over and sat up, adjusting the blanket to cover herself.

"You're awake!" Celeste rattled her tail against the table leg, a flash of temper crossing her face.

Calm ...I can do this. "Yes, and I'm not an invalid." Vreva scooted to the edge of the bunk. She stood, a little wobbly, but firmly enough, and fixed them with an even stare. "Are they going to catch us?"

"Probably." Torius shrugged, but Vreva could see that he was nervous.

About me? I've got to show him ...Calm ...safe ...

"We didn't shake them off last night like I'd hoped." He went to a cabinet, pulled out three crystal tumblers and a couple of bottles. Wine filled one glass, and a measure of amber liquid the other two.

Vreva caught the scent of spiced rum. Oh, you sweet, sweet man.

"They must have some way of tracking us." He handed a glass of rum to Vreva and the wine to Celeste, then took a sip from his own. "Do you know if Capoli can do that with magic?"

"She might. I don't know." Vreva inhaled the heady aroma of spices, and quaffed a third of the strong liquor. It burned down her throat. Warm ...safe ... "We never discussed her magic."

"If it's a spell, perhaps we can block it." Celeste's forked tongue flicked out over her levitating glass of wine, and she took a sip. "I bought a variety of scrolls before we left Katapesh. One of them blocks scrying."

Vreva shook her head, grateful for a problem to solve. "Zarina"—it hurt to say her name—"knows me well enough to be able to scry me, but that would only tell her that I'm aboard a ship, not where the ship is. We can't know what spell she might be using, or whether she's tracking me, Torius, or the ship itself." She knocked back the rest of her drink and pursed her lips, firming her resolve. The barriers between her and the horrors stood firmly in place. She was still Vreva Jhafae, and she could survive this.

She thought about Zarina. Yes, I loved her once. Before Saffron. The innate thirst for revenge flared. Sweet Calistria, grant me vengeance ... "No, we should prepare for the worst. Assume that they're going to catch us."

"Then we've got a serious fight on our hands." Torius bolted his drink and sat at the chart table. "They outnumber us, have more ballistae and two catapults. And Capoli's a force to be reckoned with. She stood toe to toe with Grogul, and I saw her teleport, but I don't know what other spells she might have. They may have another caster aboard as well."

"To my knowledge, they don't." Questioning eyes turned toward Vreva. "At least Nekhtal never mentioned one."

"You know him?" Torius sounded incredulous.

"I ...entertained him once." Vreva managed to keep her voice steady. "He's the brute-force, hands-on type. I don't think he'd see the need to have a wizard aboard."

"Well, we can't know their capabilities, so that just leaves the question of our own." Torius centered his gaze upon Vreva, fixing her eyes unwaveringly. "I know you're no warrior, but you do have magic. How can you help us?"

Vreva found no pity in his gaze, only a genuine plea for aid. Considering the question, she seemed woefully unprepared. She leaned back on the bed, and the blanket parted to expose her leg. Catching Celeste's pointed look, she put down her glass and closed the gap.

"My magic is attuned to espionage, not combat, but I can learn."

A drawer in the dresser opened as if of its own volition, and Celeste nodded toward the rows of ribbon-bound parchment. "Feel free to peruse the scrolls I bought in Katapesh."

Vreva went to the drawer. With a simple spell, the scrolls came alight with the auras of myriad spells.

"These will do nicely." She nodded to Celeste. "I'm also adept with poisons. If you give me some of your venom, I can purify it into a more lethal toxin."

"Thillion already uses Celeste's venom on his arrows."

"I can make it better. If I can use your kitchen for a short time, I'll make enough for both of us."

"It's a galley, not a kitchen," Celeste said. "And I thought you weren't a warrior."

"I'm not, but it doesn't take a warrior to sneak up behind someone while invisible and put a crossbow bolt in their neck. I'm no archer, but at close range, I manage."

Torius nodded and poured more rum in their glasses. "If you can put one in Nekhtal and another in Capoli, that would help."

Zarina ...Vreva lifted her glass in toast. "It would be my pleasure to do them both, Torius." The crystal struck a musical note, and they drank.

"A bolt in the neck, however, presumes a boarding action. Stargazer's more maneuverable than Scourge, so we'll try to dance around her and see what kind of damage we can do with Snick's babies and spells."

Vreva gave him a wry smile. "I'm sure I can find a spell of use from a distance. Regardless, I'll need some clothes before I go into battle."

"I'll find something for you." Torius finished his rum and stood. "Lacy Jane's about your size. I hope you don't mind looking like a pirate."

"Not at all."

"Wait." Celeste slithered between them, a gleam in her dark eyes. "I have an idea that might neutralize one of our threats without firing a shot."

"What?" Torius eyed her curiously.

"The inquisitor." She turned to Vreva. "You said she was in love with you. Do you think she still is?"

Vreva quailed to think what Zarina might be feeling toward her, but furrowed her brow in thought. "I ...don't know. I don't remember much, but she was crying when she ...asked me questions. Why?"

"Because you, Vreva, are our secret weapon." Celeste slithered to a locker, and the door opened to reveal a row of glistening dresses. "I remembered how you taught me to draw attention to myself when we had Benrahi Ekhan aboard. How do you think Capoli would react to seeing you in your full glory, looking like the woman she fell in love with, undiminished by what she did to you?"

"I ...don't know." Vreva forced down her tremulous thoughts. Could it work? Could she still love me? The notion seemed ludicrous, but ... "It might ...unsettle her."

"It might, but the question is, can you do it?" Torius sounded more cautious than skeptical.

"I can do it." There was conviction in her voice that Vreva hadn't expected. "I can't guarantee it will work. After what she did—" The rum rippled in her glass, and she bit her lip until the pain steeled her nerves.

"Hate and love are often two edges of the same sword." Celeste gave her a smile that showed her fangs. "If you can provoke a reaction from her, it might just give us an edge."

"Unless she can blast holes in my ship, I'm more worried about their broadside, but if you think it'll help." Torius shrugged. "I'll send Snick down with her sewing kit."

"Good." As Torius left the cabin, Celeste slithered to the drawer of scrolls. "Now, what kind of spells would you like?"

"I don't know." Vreva pulled out a scroll, slipped off the ribbon, and unrolled it.

"While you look through those, I'll show you some of my dresses." Celeste slithered to the hanging locker and floated out a glittering sequined gown. "How about this black one?"

"Black before evening?" Vreva felt a ghost of the old Vreva Jhafae like the embrace of an old friend. "Please, dear, don't insult me."

∗ ∗ ∗

Dawn brought only disappointment. Bloody Scourge still hounded them, gaining little by little, favored by low winds and seas. Only a few miles separated the ships now, and no one aboard Stargazer held any illusions that they would escape without a fight. It was time.

"All hands on deck, Thillion."

"Yes, sir." The elf glanced aloft. "Should we change over to the day sails?"

"No." Torius squinted aloft at the black sails. "No, I think black will do nicely today."

"Aye, sir." Thillion passed the word, and the crew assembled with an alacrity that suggested they had been awaiting his call.

Torius stood at the forward rail of the quarterdeck and gauged his crew. They were already garbed for battle, armored in hard leather and armed to the teeth. Torius wore a shirt of fine chainmail under his cloth shirt—a gift from Celeste—and his familiar silver-hilted cutlass at his hip. Gazing out at the clear eyes and stoic miens of the men and women under his command, his heart warmed. All he had achieved, he owed to their loyalty. For that, they deserved the truth about the dangers they would face. Raising his hands to quell their muttering, he addressed them for what might be the last time.

"My friends! Today will truly test our mettle." Torius raked the crew with his gaze. "Today, some of us will die." They met his gaze, and not a single eye looked away. "There lies our foe!" He swept his arm aft toward the huge galley. "The Bloody Scourge! They mean to put us in chains, and let me tell you, mates, there is no fate worse in this world!"

A few shouts of affirmation rang out, weapons thrust into the air.

"Many of you have worn the iron collar. Some of you were with me when Stargazer had a different name and a different captain. Remember the day when we threw off our shackles! That day we chose to live as we wished, not at the beck and call of a sadistic master, but as free men and women, beholden to none!"

"Stargazer!" The cheer rang in his ears, and Torius grinned.

"Yes, they outnumber us, but we have tricks they've never seen!" He waved his arm toward those beside him on the quarterdeck. "We have Snick and her deadly babies!"

Snick leapt up onto the rail, pirouetted and swept her gaudy tricorne in a grandiose bow, her mischievous grin intact.

"We have Thillion and his bow to rain death from above!"

The elf raised his longbow in salute.

"We have magic and venom!"

Celeste slithered forward, her leather harness bristling with scroll cases and potion bottles.

"And we'll show them that, no matter how brutally they beat us down, we will rise up stronger than before, and fight!"

Vreva stepped forward, beautiful in a deep-blue gown, a crossbow propped on her hip.

"And we have you, my friends, the best damned crew of pirates on the Inner Sea!"

"Stargazer!"

Torius's heart swelled at the thunderous cheer. "Yes, some of us will die today, but I promise you, all of them will die today!"

"Stargazer!"

Torius felt sure that breeze would carry the resounding cry over the waves to Bloody Scourge. In fact, he was counting on it. Torius drew his cutlass and thrust it skyward, feeling the power of their cries reverberating in his chest.

After a moment, he turned to Thillion. "You and your marksmen go aloft."

"Aye, sir!" Thillion and his archers scrambled up the rigging.

"Kalli and Nectus, you know your mission. Anything you can do to disable their rudder will help." The gillmen siblings, each carrying a long crowbar, grinned and ran for the rail.

"Fenric, trim for action and ready to tack the ship."

"Aye, sir!"

The bosun's bellowed orders reminded Torius of Grogul. I'll miss you today, my friend.

Shaking off his spasm of melancholy, he said, "Snick, make damned sure your crews are ready and you have all your warheads at hand. But if worst comes to worst, and we have to board, get to Celeste. Once you're invisible, you know what to do."

"Aye, sir!" The gnome twirled the skeleton-key wand and skipped down to the main deck.

"Celeste ..." His heart caught in his throat. She, more than any of them, risked a fate worse than death if they failed. A lunar naga on the auction block would be worth a fortune to Nekhtal. "You asked me once to kill you rather than let you be taken by slavers. If we come rail to rail with that galley, I may not be able to offer you that assurance."

"Slavers aren't the only ones who've tried to put me in chains recently." She smiled, showing him her fangs. "Astrus learned that I'd sooner fight to the death than submit to that. Today is no different."

He gaped at her. "Astrus ...did that?"

"Yes. I'll tell you about it after the battle."

"All right. You'll be amidships. Pick your targets well."

"Aye, my captain!" She smiled and kissed him hard. "For luck!"

"For luck, my love." He watched her slither away before turning to Vreva. The courtesan looked as beautiful as ever. If Capoli still loved her, Torius didn't see how the woman could avoid being affected by the sight of her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Torius." She regarded him for a moment, a wry smile on her lips. "That was a pretty speech. Did you mean it?"

"Every word." He fixed her with a confident stare. "Don't you dare doubt it."

"I'll never doubt you, Torius Vin." Vreva leaned in, faster than he could react, and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Thank you for my life. I promise not to waste it."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she was already gone, down the steps and across the mid-deck. Celeste leveled a glare at her as she passed, then turned to Torius. He shrugged helplessly, and she shook her head.

"Stargazers!" he bellowed, stepping to the wheel beside Windy Kate. "Prepare for battle!"

"Stargazer!" the crew shouted back.

"Windy Kate, straight at them!" Windy heaved the wheel, and Stargazer came around as sweetly as ever. Bristling with steel and venom, her black canvas cracking, she bore down on her foe, a dark harbinger of death. "The colors, Fenric!"

"Aye, sir!" The bosun cupped his hands and bellowed, "The pennant!"

High aloft, Lacy Jane let go the pennant that Snick had sewn. A silver serpent with long streaming hair seemed to slither across the black field from the topmast. Stargazer was going into battle.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Beauty and Terror

Vreva staggered as Stargazer came about and the deck lurched under her feet. She might have fallen but for the helping hands of the sailors. As a courtesan, she was used to accepting the help of servants and clients, but this she found both strange and heartening. These weren't servants, and they weren't helping her because they wanted something from her. These were friends; something she had never had before, except for Saffron. Their simple camaraderie gave her strength.

That strength nearly faltered when she reached the bow and saw their fate charging toward them.

I can do this.

Spray flew from the bow of Bloody Scourge. The galley's bronze-tipped ram broke through each wave crest, a gleaming spear to impale them. Vreva swallowed hard, tucked her crossbow behind the foredeck bulwarks, and stood straight and tall, a living figurehead to show the slavers that their abuse would not prevail.

Closer ...

She could see them now, bustling about the siege engines on the forecastle. She couldn't see Nekhtal or his officers, but the recollection of their sadistic cruelty ignited her wrath. She drew a scroll from the pocket of her dress and read the spell. It might keep her alive long enough to exact her revenge.

A loud crack cut through the roar of wind and wave, snapping Vreva's attention back to Bloody Scourge. A huge granite ball arched high from the galley's bow. Stargazer slewed to port, and Vreva hung on to keep from falling. The deck beneath her feet trembled as the ball smashed the starboard railing not fifteen feet away. Two Stargazers sprawled, impaled by deadly hardwood splinters. Vreva turned away. She had a job to do.

"Closer, you torturing bastards." Pulling to mind the spell she'd chosen from Celeste's scrolls, she gauged the distance to her target. "Just a little closer."

The ships closed at breakneck speed. The slavers bustled about two bow-mounted ballistae, and a tall woman shouted and dropped her arm. The bolts streaked toward Stargazer too fast to see. One passed close enough to flutter Vreva's hair.

That was the last shot Bloody Scourge would get. The next was hers.

"Close enough."

She whispered the incantation, and felt its heat fill her mind and course down her arms. She had never cast a spell like this before, and the power of it surprised her. A spark formed in her hand, a small yellow sphere no larger than a pea. Stretching out her arm, she pointed at the catapult and let the magic flow. The fiery mote shot forth across the water. Vreva watched anxiously, losing sight of it against the background of the slavers hurriedly reloading their machines.

The spark struck the catapult, blossoming into an enormous flower of death. Flames engulfed the entire forecastle, siege engines and crews together, and surged up the foresail. The yard to which the sail was attached burst free from its restraining ropes and swung wildly.

The cheer that rang out from behind her clashed with the screams of the dying slavers. Vreva recalled her torments and felt not a twinge of remorse.

From beyond the flames rose a storm of arrows. Vreva froze for a moment before realizing that they would fly over her head. She turned to scream a warning, but every Stargazer already crouched beneath a thick wooden shield. A few cried out as lucky shots pierced arms or legs, but not one fell dead. Celeste alone held no shield, but the arrows bounced harmlessly off her as if she were made of stone. Vreva felt reassured that her own protective spell would work as well.

"Hard port rudder!"

At Torius's command, the ship careened to port so violently that Vreva was flung against the starboard bulwark. Looking down, she saw the galley's deadly ram surge past Stargazer's bow. She grabbed onto the forestay and hung on for her life as the two ships clashed in a glancing blow, splinters flying before they rebounded.

Through the smoke from the immolated foredeck, Vreva glared at the faces of the slavers massed on the mid-deck. Their grim countenances transformed to shock as a bolt of lightning blasted through the bulwark of painted shields to rake the deck from bow to stern. Slavers, weapons, and armor landed in smoldering heaps. Celeste's aim had been true.

"Kill the traitorous bitch!" screamed a slaver. Arrows flew, but they glanced off her spell, and she stood firm.

As the ships roared past one another, Vreva heard the splintering crack as Stargazer sheared off several oars, but ahead she saw the long wooden shafts swiftly recede into the hull, replaced by the tips of ballista bolts.

"Fire!"

Stargazer trembled as Snick's babies fired their broadside. Alchemical fire splashed across the galley's deck, scattering burning slavers. To Vreva, however, it seemed that for every slaver killed, several more scrabbled to the fore.

Now Bloody Scourge fired her own rippling broadside, targeting Stargazer's rigging and master. One bolt crashed into the foresail yard, fracturing the long spar and tearing the sail. Farther back, another bolt struck the binnacle, missing Torius by inches. Instead, it shattered a spoke of the wheel and ripped through Windy Kate's shoulder. The helmswoman fell in a welter of blood and shattered bone, and Torius took the broken wheel in hand.

"Grapples!"

Slavers heaved a dozen heavy iron grappling hooks across the narrow gap. The Stargazers responded instantly, hacking through the thick hemp lines. To the crew's horror, several of the grappling hooks scrabbled like four-legged spiders, burying their pointed prongs deep in the rail. These hooks trailed chain bolted to the galley's deck. The grapples came taut with a horrific jerk, but the opposing momentum of the two ships could not be resisted. The lengths of chain ripped through wood before they parted, recoiling with deadly force to cut down two more Stargazers and a number of slavers.

Vreva stared, horrified at the wreckage and mayhem, the men and women she'd spoken to moments before reduced to tattered meat, the blood sluicing through the scuppers of both ships.

"Vreva! The catapult!"

Celeste's call snapped the courtesan out of her thrall. Stargazer's bow neared the galley's stern, where a second catapult stood ready to fire. She began her spell, but her lapse had cost too much time. The arm of the catapult hurled a tangle of chain that ripped through Stargazer's rigging. Severed lines and shattered blocks rained down, along with a few of Fenric's topmen.

Vreva loosed her magic again, placing a ball of searing fire right on top of the siege engine. The flames did their work, silencing the machine for good and obliterating its crew, but in her hurry, Vreva hadn't placed the spell exactly as she should have. The bottom of the lateen sail was only singed. Her task had been to catch both the sail and the catapult in the conflagration.

As Stargazer roared past the galley's stern, sunlight glinting off metal caught Vreva's eye. There at the ship's taffrail stood Zarina, her chainmail glowing like a nimbus. The inquisitor stared at Vreva, seemingly oblivious to the destruction behind her, her crossbow held loosely at her side.

Kill her!

Vreva grabbed her crossbow and raised the weapon. Looking into her lover's eyes—golden ...so like Saffron's—Vreva squeezed the trigger.

Deafening thunder shivered the air as lightning ripped through the slavers on the galley's quarterdeck and struck the mizzenmast. Splinters flew, but the thick spar held.

"Damn it!" The distraction had broken Vreva's concentration, and her shot missed Zarina. The inquisitor stood as still as a statue.

"Helm's alee!" shouted Torius.

Stargazer wheeled into the wind, rounding the huge galley's high stern.

"Fire drogues!" Snick cried, and the six ballistae fired. The bolts struck low on the galley's transom, trailing long lines of cup-shaped drogues to slow the ship.

Immediately, Torius called out again. "Hard to starboard. Tack the ship. Tend your sheets!"

Stargazer continued her turn through the wind, bringing her portside to bear on the galley's vulnerable stern.

And still, Zarina Capoli just stared at Vreva.

Vreva met that gaze, vaguely aware of another lightning bolt blasting through the Scourge's big stern windows, and a broadside from Stargazer that set Nekhtal's cabin ablaze. Vreva ignored the flames, the shouted orders, and the screams of the dying. She readied her spell, and took aim.

Only now did Zarina move, raising and aiming her crossbow, her eyes still focused on Vreva.

Vreva's spell left her hand just as the inquisitor's weapon fired. The fiery mote streaked past Zarina to detonate on her real target, the mizzen boom. Fire billowed forth, setting the lateen sail ablaze. Vreva stood unflinching as the bolt from Zarina's crossbow sped toward her heart ...and rebounded off the magic of her protective spell.

As the distance between the two women grew, their eyes bore into one another, love and hate burning like the fires that consumed the galley's yellow sails.

∗ ∗ ∗

Torius smiled grimly as Bloody Scourge blazed. A few more exchanges like that, and the galley would burn to the waterline. He tried not to think of the hundreds of slaves changed to their oars. Can't help that. We'll jibe, and round her stern again, then—

A groan from behind him wiped the smile from the captain's face.

"Windy!"

The helmswoman lay in a widening crimson pool. Bright red blood jetted between the fingers of the hand she clenched to her torn left shoulder. She'd bleed out in moments if he didn't do something.

Without a second thought, Torius whipped a line around the wheel to hold their course, and knelt beside her. Drawing a potion from his pocket, he popped the cork and tilted it into her mouth. Some spilled as she convulsed, but she swallowed the rest. The wound stopped bleeding, though her arm remained twisted at an impossible angle. Windy's shaking eased, and she blinked. Her eyes focused on Torius, then behind him.

"Captain. The wheel."

"It'll keep. Here!" He pressed another potion into her bloody hand, then grasped her arm and placed his boot into her armpit. "I've got to straighten the break. Hold fast, and down that potion when I'm done."

"But, sir!"

"Do as I say, damn it!" She nodded and held the vial to her lips. Swallowing hard, Torius pulled her arm straight. Bones grated, and her shoulder popped back into the socket. Windy's scream tore across the deck before she gulped the potion. Then her eyes went wide as she stared beyond him.

"The Scourge, Captain!"

Torius surged to his feet, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Bloody Scourge was turning. The galley's rudder was jammed, and she was slowed by the drogues, but she still had her sweeps. The starboard bank of oars churned the water in reverse, while her port oars thrashed forward. Bloody Scourge's broadside would come to bear in moments.

"Gozreh's guts!" Torius glanced aloft. The chain shot had made a mess of Stargazer's rigging. Topmen struggled to cut away the wreckage, but the ship's sailing ability had been seriously hampered. Torius saw their few options play out in his mind in two heartbeats: they couldn't run fast enough to escape, and turning away would only expose their vulnerable stern. He had saved one life at the risk of his entire ship.

"Orders, Captain?" Windy stood at the wheel, bloody but hale, and he couldn't regret his decision.

"Two points to starboard, Windy. We can't present our stern, but if we can widen the gap, they won't be able to reach us with grapples. Fenric! Get me more sail aloft! If we get a chance to run, we're going to take it! Celeste, blast their deck! Snick, give them a volley of your new bolts!"

Stargazers threw themselves into their tasks. Lightning raked the galley's mid-deck, setting their ravaged bulwarks ablaze. Torius felt the jolt of Snick's ballistae firing, and watched the bolts soar high. Once over the galley's deck, the thin lines that trailed behind the bolts snapped taut, shattering the warheads. Screams shivered the air as acid rained down, melting flesh from bone.

The galley completed its ponderous turn, the two ships now side by side. Despite the destruction, slavers still crowded the galley's deck, yelling and cursing as they threw their dead overboard. The Scourge's sweeps receded into their ports, and the gleaming points of ballista bolts nosed out.

"Cover!" Torius bellowed, dragging Windy behind the bulwarks.

But instead of raking the deck, the bolts thudded into Stargazer's hull. The thick lines trailing into the Scourge's firing ports came taut with another horrible jerk."

The two ships were being drawn together, and with dozens of archers pinning his crew behind their shields, he had no way to cut the lines. We've got to board them first!

"All hands to board! Now, Snick! Stick 'em to the deck!"

Stargazer's topmen dropped from the rigging like spiders on silken threads. The crew formed up around Celeste, their shields aloft against the rain of arrows and bolts from Bloody Scourge.

The ships were only twenty feet apart when Snick's babies fired over the galley's rail. This time, the detonations spewed sticky resin over the slavers.

That should let us strike the first blow, at least.

Torius glanced forward. The forecastle was empty. He hoped that meant that Vreva had already cast her invisibility spell, and not simply fallen overboard. Snick clambered out of the hold to Celeste's side, and the naga cast a spell to make the gnome vanish. The rest of the crew crouched, ready to spend their lives at their captain's command. Torius jumped down to join them, tucking in next to Celeste.

The two ships crashed together with a bone-shaking jolt of splintering wood. With a silent prayer to Gozreh, Torius jumped to the rail, drew his cutlass, and shouted out over the din of grinding wood, screeching metal, and screaming sailors.

"Stargazers! With me!" With Celeste and his loyal crew at his side, Torius Vin leapt into a maelstrom of steel and blood.

∗ ∗ ∗

As she slithered over the joined rails, Celeste hurled lightning through the mass of slavers, cutting a swath that the Stargazers filled with steel. Blades hacked mercilessly at the mired slavers, widening the gap, giving the pirates a foothold. Even with all their spells and tricks, they were still badly outnumbered.

"Forward!"

Torius and Celeste formed the van of the charge, flanked by Windy Kate, Dukkol, Fenric, and a thoroughly terrified Eutep. Celeste had tried to dissuade Eutep from accompanying the front lines, but he insisted on remaining by her side. Now he cried out an imaginative curse and slashed away.

We'll make a pirate of him yet!

Beside her, Torius slashed and parried in a blur, cutlass and dagger scribing whirling arcs of blood. Celeste cast spell after spell, blasting slavers with motes of magical energy and spears of fire, resorting to her fangs when danger threatened too close. Inch by bloody inch they advanced. Dead slavers littered the deck, but the Stargazers had losses of their own. Blood ran in rivulets across the planks.

A burly slaver bowled over an injured comrade to slash with a heavy two-handed sword, and Dukkol went down with a hand clasped to his eye. The slaver raised his sword to finish the dwarf, but Eutep lunged forward to fend off the thrust. He slashed wildly, but couldn't hope to win past the longer weapon with his cutlass. As the slaver raised his sword again, however, an arrow lodged in his neck, felling him on the spot. Celeste recognized the green fletching. Thillion.

A guttural growl drew her attention, and Celeste turned to see the hulking trollhound barreling through the throng to leap at her. With a wild scream, Eutep intercepted its attack. His cutlass scored a deep cut across the beast's muzzle, but it twisted its thick neck to snap at Eutep's sword arm. Its horrible teeth clamped shut, stripping flesh from bone.

Eutep's scream rose on the air.

Celeste spat out a spell, sending tongues of searing flame to blacken the creature's scabrous hide. The trollhound ignored the wound, its vise-like jaws snapping onto Eutep's throat. It shook him like a rag doll, and her stalwart defender died with a strangled gurgle.

"No!" Enraged, Celeste raked the trollhound with a barrage of magical energy. Even though the spell gouged its thick hide, the beast shook off the impacts like drops of rain. It flung Eutep's body into the fray and charged.

Celeste met the charge with a strike. They collided in a tearing impact, her fangs plunging deep into its shoulder as those horrible jaws clamped onto her scales. She would have screamed as the creature's mass bore her down, but her mouth was full of trollhound. She flexed, trying to pump every bit of venom she could into it.

"Celeste!"

Her eye caught a streak of silver as Torius hacked into the beast's neck. Bone cracked under the blow, and vile green blood fountained over her. She released her grip and writhed her coils, trying to shake the maimed creature off, but still its jaws gripped her.

"Die, you filthy ..." Torius struck again, severing the trollhound's head from its body. Finally, its jaws loosed their hold, and Torius kicked it viciously away.

A slaver lunged at him from behind. Celeste conjured a spear of flame to burn him down, but not before he plunged his blade into the captain's side. Torius cursed, dropped his dagger, and clenched his hand over the bleeding wound.

"Potion!" She floated a vial out of her harness, and he snatched it, downing the contents in a hasty gulp. She gulped one down herself, and they turned back to back, gasping for breath.

"This isn't working!" Torius bellowed, parrying and slashing as another slaver pressed forward.

That's an understatement, Celeste thought. All Hell was breaking loose around them.

Despite the loss of a hand, Windy Kate fought on grimly at her captain's side, her bleeding stump tied off with a makeshift tourniquet. Arrows still flew from Stargazer's main top, but too few. Even with the ballista crews reinforcing their numbers, the Stargazers could not regain the advantage. Many lay wounded or dead, and even though Celeste had bought every healing potion she could find in Katapesh, there were not enough to go around.

"We're in trouble!" Torius drew another dagger from his boot even as he parried wildly with his cutlass.

"We've got to buy Snick time!" Celeste buried her fangs in another slaver's neck. His cutlass raked her, but her venom had its way, and he slumped to the deck. Casting a glance at the quarterdeck, she spied the inquisitor. Celeste would have sent a spear of flame at the woman, but then realized that Capoli just stood there, her eyes scanning the mayhem. "Capoli's not fighting! It's working!"

"It won't matter if we don't get some help!" Torius parried and slashed, trying to guard two flanks at once as Windy hauled Dukkol up and pressed a potion into his hand.

"Snick will come through!" As if to dash her hopes, a guttural roar sounded from one of the galley's hatches. "By the stars, what now?" Celeste shuddered with visions of some foul beast being released from below.

The roar sounded again, and the main hatch grating shattered upward in a shower of splinters. A decapitated slaver flew overhead, hitting the mainmast before landing amid his shipmates. Both the slavers and the Stargazers stood in shock for a heartbeat.

Another bellow sounded from below.

"TORIUS!"

Celeste exchanged a glance with her captain, and saw the uncertain hope on his face.

"It can't be!" Torius lunged forward, Celeste at his heels. As one, the Stargazers surged, taking advantage of the distraction. As if new life had been breathed into them, the pirates pushed the slavers back. Suddenly, Thillion and the other marksmen were among them, the elf's rapier flicking out like a razor-edged tongue. The gillmen were there, too, dripping wet and wielding steel. And over the din of battle, another bellow shook the deck beneath their feet.

"TORIUS!"

"Grogul!" Torius leapt forward, heedless of the blades opposing him. "Grogul! We're here!"

Celeste blasted a slaver before he could bury an axe in her lover's back, and slithered after him. Beyond their foes, the broken hatch grating burst upward. Galley slaves surged up in a wave of ravening sweat and muscle. They wielded broken oars, chains, and a few stolen weapons—but most of all, they wielded rage. Grogul charged at the van, a double length of chain swinging from his fists.

The slaves crashed into their captors like a tidal wave, pounding through the enemy by sheer force. The Stargazers cried out, pressing hard from the opposite side. If they could just link up, they might have a chance.

The surprise attack, coupled with the renewed vigor of the pirates, proved too much for the slavers. The Scourges split into two groups, backing away forward and aft. In the gap that opened between, Grogul slammed into Torius, nearly bowling his captain over.

"Gozreh's guts, I thought you were dead!" Torius howled in triumph, pounding his bosun on the back until he realized that the half-orc's body was streaked with whip marks.

"I thought you were dead!" Grogul pushed his captain to arm's length and grinned. "HA! But by Besmara's sweet tits, you're alive!"

"Let's try to stay that way!" Celeste interjected, though her eyes blurred with tears. She slammed her tail into a slaver who sought to attack the two distracted comrades. "We're a little busy for a reunion!"

"Right!" Torius flicked a fallen boarding axe up with his toe and handed it over to Grogul. "Let's get to it! Double lines, fore and aft! Stargazers! With me!"

Galley slaves continued to pour from the main hatch, snatching up the weapons of the fallen.

"May the stars bless Snick," Celeste murmured. The tide of the battle had turned.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Inquisitor's Wrath

Vreva hurried down Stargazer's deck, secure in her invisibility and sparing only a glance for the pirates surging aboard Bloody Scourge. Her next task required stealth. She took the steps to the quarterdeck two at a time, avoiding the pools of blood. The last thing she wanted was to leave footprints. She climbed onto the rail, then leapt the narrow gap between the ships with the grace of a dancer and climbed over the galley's higher bulwarks.

Zarina stood at the quarterdeck rail, facing forward, her attention fixed upon the battle.

Looking for me.

Vreva crept forward, crossbow in hand. The rest of the quarterdeck was empty. Nekhtal and his officers were undoubtedly knee-deep in the battle, and Torius's problem. Zarina was hers.

Sweet Calistria, grant me revenge.

The din of battle masked any noise that Vreva might have made as she prowled forward, crossbow at the ready. She had to get close to ensure that the envenomed bolt struck true. The neck. It's got to be the neck. One shot, and Vreva's vengeance for Saffron's death, for all her pain and anguish, would be fulfilled. She raised her weapon and aimed at the smooth skin above her collar ...

She recalled the vein that pulsed there, its soft texture beneath her lips, and the nerve that sent thrills of ecstasy down Zarina's spine when nibbled just so.

Stop it! You've got to do this! There was no other way to escape the inquisitor's relentless pursuit, to spare her friends. Kill her and be done with it!

Vreva steadied her finger on the trigger. Another careful step ...and her crossbow suddenly became visible before her. Her spell had failed. With a silent curse, she remembered how Zarina had banished their cloaking magic during their escape from Bloody Scourge. But the inquisitor's eyes remained fixed on the battle.

So kill her before she turns around! Kill her and take your revenge! Vreva blinked away tears, and tried to focus her blurry vision. It's the smoke ...She blinked again and pictured the bolt piercing the skin, the poison ending her lover's life ...

My lover ...Love ...Her finger quivered on the trigger. Do I? Can I? After all Zarina had done, how could she still feel anything for the woman but hatred?

Vreva heard Celeste's voice as clearly as if the naga whispered in her ear. Love and hate are two edges of the same sword. Her vision blurred again. Her crossbow wavered, and then lowered.

"I can't."

Vreva hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud until Zarina whirled. The inquisitor's eyes flicked to the slack weapon in Vreva's hand, then up to her face. Her mouth opened, then gaped in a wordless cry, her eyes shifting focus.

Agony tore a scream from Vreva's lips. Her crossbow clattered to the deck, and her legs buckled. As she fell to her knees, she stared down in horror at the bloodied steel protruding from her stomach. Then a hand gripped her hair and wrenched her head back.

Captain Nekhtal grinned down at her. "You're not the only one who can use magic to make herself unseen, little spy! But I think I ruined your pretty dress." He twisted the blade and wrenched it free. The serrated edge grated against her spine, ripping another scream from her throat.

Vreva clutched the terrible wound, felt her warm life's blood spurting between her fingers. Nekhtal flung her down on her back. A crimson pool spread around her as the half-orc sneered. "Time to die."

Vreva's bloody hand clawed for her fallen crossbow, but his boot smashed down on her wrist.

"No, little spy." Nekhtal lowered the tip of his sword to her breast and pressed slowly. "Now I send you to your whore goddess."

"No!"

A crossbow bolt struck Nekhtal in the throat. He staggered back, and Vreva heard a click-crack. Another bolt took him in the chest. A bellow escaped his gaping mouth. Raising his bloody sword, he stepped past Vreva, but another bolt struck him, this one low in his gut, the barbed head protruding from his back. He staggered another step. Click-crack! Another bolt stopped his advance, and the bloody scimitar fell from his hand. Click-crack! His head snapped back, the final bolt buried deep in his eye.

The captain of Bloody Scourge toppled back into the spreading pool of Vreva's blood. Beyond him stood Zarina Capoli, her ornate repeating crossbow empty in her hands, her face contorted into a mask of anguish.

"Vreva!" The crossbow fell to the deck as Zarina stumbled forward. She fell to her knees in the pool of blood. "I'm sorry!" she cried, tears streaking her cheeks. "Abadar's key, I am so sorry! Please, you can't die!" Snatching up the golden key from her belt, she pressed it to the wound.

Vreva clenched Zarina's trembling hands, the blood slick between their fingers. "No, my love. Don't." Already the pain was easing, the edges of her vision hazing into darkness. Only Zarina face was clear, with her beautiful golden eyes. The madness was gone. Only love and grief remained. Vreva tried to smile, to let her know that it was all right. Some loves were simply not meant to be. "I love you, Zarina. I never meant to hurt you. Let me go to Calistria."

"No! I won't!" The key of Abadar glowed, and warmth spread out from it into the wound, overcoming the numbness. The darkness receded from Vreva's sight, and the blood ceased to pulse from between her fingers. Zarina bent until her face was Vreva's entire world, warm tears falling on her cheeks. "I can't let you go! I didn't want this. Abadar didn't want this!" She flung a bloody hand toward the battle raging behind her. "This isn't justice! This isn't law! It's chaos! This is not Abadar's will!"

Vreva's gaze flicked beyond her lover, and her eyes widened. Nekhtal's officers charged up the steps to the quarterdeck, their faces flushed with rage. Behind them came more slavers, screaming for blood.

"Traitor!" they cried. "Kill her!" They had seen the inquisitor shoot down their captain, and they wanted revenge.

Vreva clutched her lover's hand and pushed her away. "Behind you!"

Zarina surged to her feet and whirled about, snatching the mace from her hip. Her holy icon flared with light, and the inquisitor vanished. An instant later, she rematerialized directly in front of the charging slavers, well away from where Vreva lay helpless. The leader, caught off guard, still had his weapon poised over his head when the inquisitor's mace smashed his face into a shattered mass of broken bone.

The rest of the slavers charged, but Zarina met the tide of steel with a cry to her god and a flash of golden light. Blades slashed the inquisitor's tabard to tatters, but none managed to penetrate her glowing chainmail, its divine light turning away their blows.

"Abadar!" Zarina cried. Abadar's key suddenly blazed upon her weapon, and the mace's spiked head burst into flames. The inquisitor disappeared and reappeared again, this time behind the slavers. She lashed out, and her target flew aside in a flaming arc. Before his body even hit the deck, she smashed through another's weapon. Fear shone in their eyes now, as once again she vanished and reappeared to attack their flank.

She's drawing them away to save me! Vreva realized. But slavers continued to pound up the stairs from the main deck. They would overwhelm Zarina with sheer numbers.

"Zarina!" Vreva struggled to stand, but her legs were numb. She watched in helpless anguish as the slavers charged toward her lover. Not helpless! She drew on her magic and sent a tiny glowing spark streaking toward the stairs crowded with slavers.

An inferno engulfed the slavers, the stair, and a good portion of the quarterdeck and mid-deck beyond. The tarred shrouds disintegrated in the heat, and the mizzenmast damaged by Celeste's lightning toppled forward onto the mid-deck, crushing sailors, as flaming canvas fell in a deadly pall.

Half of Zarina's would-be assailants perished in the flames. Throwing herself at the survivors, the inquisitor cried out in triumph, her weapon leaving seared flesh and broken bones in its wake. Every time they cornered her, Zarina blinked out and rematerialized behind them to attack anew. The aura of divine energy surrounding her turned their blows and healed her wounds, while her strokes laid slaver after slaver flat out on the burning deck.

Vreva started as the skylight on the quarterdeck popped open, but only smoke billowed forth. She turned back to the battle, but an invisible hand gripped her shoulder, and Snick's voice calmed her hammering heart.

"Drink!" The gnome pressed a bottle into her hand. "Gotta get out of here!"

Vreva downed the sweet elixir, gasping as pins and needles drove the numbness from her legs. She felt her wounds close and struggled to her knees, but blood loss had left her dreadfully weak.

"Come on!" Snick grabbed her arm and pulled her up, dragging her stumbling away. "The whole deck's gonna go up in flames!"

"But Zarina!" Vreva sagged against the rail and looked back. Zarina was hip-deep in blood, steel, and flames. Abadar's power shielded her from the inferno, even as those around her burned.

"Can't help her! Now make yourself invisible before someone shoots you!"

With a choking cry, Vreva realized that Snick was right. There was no way either of them could help Zarina. Her spell came with barely a thought, and she faded from sight.

"Good! Now climb over with me!"

Snick's arm encircled Vreva's blood-soaked waist and helped her over the rail. The gap between the two ships looked wider now. Bloody water churned below, and gray shapes cruised below the surface.

"On three," Snick shouted over the din, gripping her hand. "One, two, three!"

They leapt, but Vreva's strength failed her. Instead of clearing Stargazer's rail, she hit it squarely, knocking the breath out of her lungs and sending a lance of pain through her stomach. A bloody scream escaped her mouth. Snick dragged her over the rail, and they landed in a heap on the deck.

"Here! Last one!" Snick pressed another bottle into Vreva's hand. "You better have it."

The potion washed the blood from her mouth and banished the nauseating pain, but not the anguish that tore at her heart. Crawling to the rail, Vreva pulled herself up.

"Zarina!"

Vreva's shout could never have reached the inquisitor over the clash of battle. Tearfully, she watched Zarina fight on. The inquisitor's once-gleaming chainmail was rent and spattered with gore, yet still her flaming mace battered her foes as they struggled to take her down. Vreva gathered all her strength to scream over the din.

"Zarina! Come with us!" Vreva prayed that she would hear, would give up the hopeless fight and teleport to the deck of the Stargazer ...but she didn't. She continued to fight, Abadar's light a halo around her.

"Zarina!" This time, her lover's face showed a flash of recognition. Zarina smiled for an instant. The flames engulfing her weapon faded, but still the glow of Abadar's divine presence surrounded her. A slaver's boarding axe creased her brow, but the inquisitor battled on, refusing to relent. Flames blew out the quarterdeck windows and billowed into the sky.

"Please!" Vreva screamed, but there was no way Zarina could have heard her. There was too much noise, too much blood, pain, and death between them. Vreva lost sight of her lover in the flames and smoke.

∗ ∗ ∗

The roar of another fireball distracted Torius's opponent for an instant. He took advantage, driving a kick into his opponent's groin and slicing his cutlass across the man's throat. Then something clamped onto Torius's arm and jerked him off his feet. He turned to strike, but Grogul's deafening shout stayed his hand.

"Beware aloft!"

For an instant the battle ceased as every sailor looked up to see what manner of death fell from above. The burning mizzenmast and its long boom fell like a toppling pine, trailing blazing streamers of burning canvas.

"Back!" Grogul hauled Torius toward the rail.

Slavers, Stargazers, and galley slaves alike scrambled away, but even so, many perished when the mast smashed into the deck. Burning debris fell like murderous hail, and screams rose from those caught beneath burning canvas. The falling mizzen boom struck the mainsail and set it afire, too, flames climbing like ravenous beasts. The heat beat on them like a furnace, and burning tar fell like rain from the rigging.

Torius glanced at the corpse-littered deck and knew that it was time to flee. If they could get back to Stargazer and cut her free, Bloody Scourge would burn to the waterline.

"Stargazers, back to the ship!"

"Torius! Look! The quarterdeck!"

He turned at Celeste's call, and beheld a strange sight. Zarina Capoli battled a mob of slavers, and seemed to be winning. Beyond the inquisitor, Vreva struggled to her feet, her gown sodden with blood.

"What the hell happened up there?"

"Do we give a damn right now?" Grogul parried a boarding axe with his chain-wrapped arm and hacked the slaver down with his own. Grabbing Torius's arm again, he propelled him toward Stargazer. "Come on!" They surged for the rail, running for their lives.

The pirates leapt the gap, dragging the galley slaves and their wounded with them. Slavers tried to follow, but the Stargazers would not have it. They met the boarders with pikes and axes, forcing them back or casting them down between the grinding hulls.

Torius glanced up at the sails flapping in the breeze. "Haul sheets and bear away!"

Pirates scrambled to obey. The sails billowed taut, but the two ships remained bound together by the grappling bolts lodged in the hull. Stargazers struggled to cut the lines, but it was dangerous duty. Anyone caught between the hulls would be crushed. Sailors fended off the galley with boarding pikes, straining to widen the gap enough for others to reach down to hack. Their efforts were hampered by the frantic attempts of the surviving slavers to win aboard their ship.

"We've got to cut her free!" Thillion called, skewering a determined slaver through the eye.

Torius agreed. There were still enough slavers to overwhelm the Stargazers if they got aboard, and the sparks were flying too close to his sails for comfort.

With a desperate thought, Torius raced forward along the deck, cutlass in hand. The gap between the ships was wider where Stargazer's hull curved. He grasped a topsail halyard and cut the rope free in passing. His momentum carried him up off the deck, and he twisted at the apex of his swing. His return swing would take him down between the ships. Stargazer's sails were straining to pull them away from Bloody Scourge. If he could just cut free a few of the lines holding them together, her bow would bear away, widening the gap and giving them a chance to sever the rest.

But the slavers had other ideas.

As Torius swept down, they reached out for him with cutlass, pike, and axe. Arrows, bolts, motes of magical energy, and even a length of chain flew from Stargazer to beat the slavers back.

Torius slashed the first line, and hemp exploded with the tension of the diverging ships. The next one parted with a report louder than a ballista shot. A third and a fourth snapped before his blade even touched them, and the gap between the hulls widened. The strain on the next rope was so great that the ballista bolt ripped free before he reached it.

It's working!

But the arc of his swing would soon rise, lifting him out of reach of the lines. Torius loosened his grip to allow the rope burn through his palm. The tip of his cutlass snicked the next line, and the rope spun, unraveled, then parted. Stargazer heeled with the strain on her sails, bringing the next line up a trifle, and he slashed it. The gap widened, the strain on the lines increasing.

One more!

Torius again let his grip slip until barely a foot of the fraying rope remained below his hand. Straining down, he slashed out with his cutlass.

A blade flashed over his head from Bloody Scourge. It missed his clenched hand by a finger's breadth, but the rope parted, and he was falling. Just before the sea engulfed him, he heard Celeste scream his name, and glimpsed the two hulls coming together. Like wringers in a laundry ready to crush him, the hulls loomed out of the soot- and blood-clouded water.

Down! Got to go down!

Torius upended himself and kicked hard, letting the weight of his boots, armor, and weapons bear him down. Overhead, the hulls ground together. Barnacle-crusted planks raked his shoulder, and he knew he couldn't swim down fast enough. Desperately, he thrust out to fend off the two hulls. The guard of his cutlass clashed against Stargazer, but as he pushed off with his other hand, barnacles scraped the flesh from his rope-burned palm. More blood clouded the water, but he managed not to waste breath on a scream.

Light brightened over his head as the ships separated, and a thunderous crack rattled his eardrums as the final line parted. Stargazer's rudder passed as she won free. With her sails drawing, she would quickly leave him behind. Torius kicked off his boots, dropped his long-treasured cutlass, and struggled for the surface, the weight of his chainmail dragging him down.

A long gray shape passed close by, toothy maw agape. The shark turned toward him, but before he could even react, something splashed right down atop it, engulfing the predator in a cascade of bubbles. The water roiled, turning red, and Torius reached for a dagger. Something flashed out of the bloody cloud of bubbles to grab his arm, but fingers rather than teeth latched on tight. The gillman, Kalli, emerged from the bubbles, and the huge shark swam away trailing a streamer of blood and viscera where her blade had gutted it. She wrapped one arm around him and tugged on the line that trailed out behind her. Torius grabbed onto her as the line jerked taut and hauled them to the surface. Strong hands pulled them over the transom, and he sprawled on the deck, coughing and sputtering.

"That was the most foolish, reckless thing you've ever done, Torius Vin!" Celeste sounded both livid and elated.

"Aye, but it worked!" Grogul hauled Torius to his feet and clapped him on the back hard enough to expel half an ocean while Stargazers helped Kalli, lauding her with praise for her daring rescue.

"And it certainly was a surprise!" Snick, blood-streaked and sooty but grinning, held up a familiar blade. "You lost your cutlass, but I brought you this! Nekhtal didn't need it anymore, with all the bolts shot into him."

"So Vreva killed him?" Torius coughed again as he accepted his reclaimed scimitar.

"Don't think so." She lowered her voice and jerked a thumb toward the rail, where Vreva sat gazing at the burning galley. "I'm not sure what happened between her and Capoli, but it didn't look like they were trying to kill each other."

They all turned toward Bloody Scourge. A few figures were still visible on the galley's blazing deck, but Zarina Capoli was nowhere to be seen.

"Orders, Captain?" Thillion stood beside the helm. Windy Kate gripped the wheel, though her left wrist now ended in a scarred stump.

Torius looked at the burning galley and shook his head. He'd told his crew that all of the slavers would die, and that was one promise he meant to keep.

"Steer north, and have Fenric get some topmen aloft to straighten out that rat's nest."

"Fenric ...didn't make it, Captain," Thillion said quietly.

Torius cringed. He wondered how many they had left on the galley's burning deck. The answer was simple: too many. "Grogul, if you're able, I could use a bosun."

"Able and ready, Captain." Grogul saluted and stomped off, shouting orders.

"Snick, potions for anyone seriously wounded, including the galley slaves."

"Aye, aye, sir!" She skipped down the steps to the main deck, slapping Grogul's ass as she passed. He cursed, but she just laughed shrilly and called out to him, "Missed you, too, buddy!"

"Do you have orders for me, my captain?" Celeste leaned against him, wrapping her tail around his leg and looking him over. "Your hand's bleeding."

"Just a scrape." He ran his good hand over her scales, carefully avoiding her many injuries. "Have Snick treat that bite, and tell her I'll take a potion if there are any left. And, yes, there is something I'd like you to do." He nodded toward Vreva. The courtesan sat and stared at the burning galley, tears running in rivulets down her cheeks. He had no idea what happened on the quarterdeck of Bloody Scourge, but Vreva wasn't acting like she'd fulfilled her vow of revenge. "See what you can do for her, will you? I think she needs a friend."

"But—" Celeste stopped, then nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'll do what I can for her."

"Thank you for that." He brushed a hand through her hair and smiled. "And thank you for not getting killed today."

"And I thank you for not getting killed, though you seemed to be trying awfully hard." Celeste leaned in and kissed him. "Now go see to your ship, my captain."

"Yes, my dear." Torius gave her his best rakish grin and went to stand by the helm. The master of Stargazer gazed out over the deck of his ship—soaked, battered, and bloody, but alive, free, and beholden to none.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Freedom's Privateer

Almas glittered like a dragon's hoard as Stargazer sailed into the wide harbor. Torius felt like he'd arrived at a party underdressed; his ship and crew looked like they'd been in the fight of their lives—which, of course, they had. Before they could even drop anchor, a pilot boat raced out to meet them.

"What now? Another tribunal?" To Torius's surprise, however, the wide-eyed lieutenant hastily directed them to the naval shipyard for repairs.

The offer of help was welcome, even if the young officer's exclamation of, "Before she sinks!" was not.

"You bug-eyed, addle-brained excuse for a fancy jacket!" Snick leapt to the rail and glared at the launch. "I'll sink you, you—"

"As you were, Snick!" While Torius shared her sentiment, he didn't need Snick ruffling any feathers.

"But, sir! We're nowhere near sinking! Haven't been for ...well, at least a day!"

"Thanks to your tireless efforts. Now stand down!"

Truth be told, it had been touch and go. The battered brigantine had shipped more than six feet of water during a squall west of Kortos. Snick had braced wads of oakum in the ruptured seam from inside, while Kalli dove overboard to hammer caulk into the open fissure.

The gillman had taken on Fenric's position as bosun's mate, sharing the duty with a now-one-eyed Dukkol. Her brother had been killed during the battle, and the responsibility seemed to help her depression. In fact, the mood of the entire crew had changed. Having lost so many mates, they all seemed a bit grimmer, less apt to smile or joke. In time, Torius knew, they would heal.

If only it was that easy for Vreva.

Despite Celeste's best efforts, the courtesan had not left the guest cabin for the first two days after the battle, even for meals. Finally, Torius had put his foot down.

"You told me you wouldn't waste your life, Vreva. You can't live like this!"

That evening she had emerged on deck and stood silently at the rail. Torius had been worried that she might throw herself overboard, but she started taking meals and talking when people addressed her. She still tended to simply stare at nothing, but it was happening less often now. She had told no one what had happened on Bloody Scourge's quarterdeck.

When they had docked the ship and arranged for repairs with the dockmaster, a messenger handed Torius a note from Admiral Weathers. She wanted to see him at his first convenience—in other words, right away. Torius bristled at being summoned like an errant schoolboy, but forced himself to relax.

Best get this over with quickly. "Thillion, the ship is yours. Grogul, you're with me."

Two hours later, Torius left the Office of Privateering Actions in a considerably better mood than when he'd arrived. Damn, but it's hard to be mad at someone who gives you exactly what you want before you even ask for it! He had to resist patting the coat pocket where he'd tucked the bank draft she had presented to him. He descended the steps of the building's ornate foyer with a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips. The money wouldn't pay for lost friends, but it would help. Especially since Celeste and Snick had spent almost his entire fortune.

Grogul fell into step beside him. "Everything all right, Captain?"

"Everything's fine, Grogul, just fine."

Rounding a corner on the bustling street, a dark man bumped into him. Torius reached reflexively for his money pouch, and found it right where it should be.

"Pardon me, Captain!"

How does he know I'm a captain? Torius wore no insignia, and stood out no more than dozens of other sailors. Before he could open his mouth to ask that very question, he felt a piece of paper being pressed into his palm. The man tipped his hat and moved on, but not before Torius caught a flash of a smile and recognized his previous Twilight Talon contact.

"No problem, citizen." Torius tipped his tricorne, pocketed the note, and strode on without looking back. A half-hour later, waiting in line at Goldfield's Bank, he read the note.

You have reservations for two tonight at The Aerie. Eight o'clock. Dress appropriately.

For two. It didn't take an oracle to figure out who would be accompanying him, or why they were being summoned. The bank line moved forward, and he moved with it, feeling like a pawn on a chessboard.

∗ ∗ ∗

Vreva examined herself in the mirror: the carefully applied makeup, elegant coif, and beautiful dress of a courtesan. All a lie. She brushed the smooth skin of her forehead. The scar—Zarina's gift—was gone, finally banished by a cleric.

Spy ...It was only the truth. She peered at herself again. Who am I really?

Vreva had been assuming false identities for so long that she found it difficult to remember who she had once been. When she did, she also remembered why her old self was best forgotten. She reached up to touch the pendant dangling on a gold chain around her neck, and felt her heart beating beneath it. Snick had tucked it into her hand just that afternoon.

"Just a bit of leftover stuff I had to get rid of," the gnome had claimed, but Vreva could tell that it had taken many hours to create the intricate mosaic of twisted golden wire and cut gems. Three tiny daggers pointed outward from a central key, Calistria's and Abadar's symbols entwined in gold.

She straightened the dress that Celeste had given her to wear tonight. Another act of kindness, one of many over the past week by the Stargazers. And what had she given them in return? She'd turned away, lost in grief.

I promised not to waste my life ...Was that just another lie?

A knock on the door startled her out of her musing.

"One moment." Vreva tucked a couple of pins into her hair, careful not to prick herself with their envenomed tips. Once a spy ... Then she slipped a cloak over her shoulders and opened the door.

"We're going to be late!" Torius stood there rolling his shoulders and fidgeting, immaculate in his brand-new dress clothes. "We'll lose our table."

"Nonsense. They're not going to sell our reservation if we don't arrive precisely on the hour." He looked quite dashing, actually. She adjusted his cravat. Movement drew her eye, and she saw Celeste at the door to their cabin. On impulse, she gave the naga a smile. "You've done very well with him, my dear. He's quite presentable."

Torius glowered, but Celeste smiled back. "He does clean up nicely, doesn't he?" She slithered forward, her dark eyes scrutinizing Vreva from head to toe. "But how you manage to look better in my clothes than I do vexes me to no end!"

"Why ...thank you, Celeste!" The sentiment touched Vreva more than she expected. Tucking her emotions away before they betrayed her, she took Torius's arm and slipped into the role she'd play tonight.

Aside from a few whistles and comments as they traversed the deck of Stargazer—most from Snick—they strode in silence to the waiting carriage. The ride also transpired quietly, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Only when they were nearing the restaurant did Torius finally speak up.

"So, do you think we're just in for a scolding, or will this be a summary execution?"

"A scolding, I think." Vreva had been trying not to think about her situation. Her life was going to change drastically. She wondered idly who she would become next. "But whoever we meet, Torius, and whatever they say, keep calm. Making a scene could be lethal."

"Don't worry, I won't embarrass you by picking up the wrong fork. And by the way, shouldn't we be meeting in some secret, secluded cellar instead of one of the nicest restaurants in Almas?"

Vreva smiled in the dark carriage. "If you hadn't noticed, secrets have a way of drawing attention. We're just enjoying a night on the town. There's nothing suspicious in that."

The carriage stopped, and an attendant opened the door. There was no time for any more questions.

Despite his nervousness, Torius played his part well. He kept his composure when they arrived at their table to find a middle-aged woman in a stunning gown already seated there, sipping a glass of wine. That, however, was when Vreva felt her own mask of composure slip. She hadn't seen Marshal Helena Trellis in the flesh in years. The woman hadn't changed. Her inherent force of personality shone like a suit of gleaming plate armor.

Trellis nodded as Vreva slipped into the chair that Torius held for her. "Good evening, Torius. It was good of you to come."

"I didn't realize my attendance was optional." He flashed a grin and took his seat.

Vreva kicked him gently under the table. "We're happy to attend." She nodded to the hovering waiter, and he filled her glass. She sampled the wine and willed her jangling nerves into quiescence.

"Yes, well, you may be less happy shortly." Trellis paused until the waiter departed, then turned to Vreva. "If you'll allow me to make our conversation private, I'll get to the point."

"Of course."

The marshal produced a small, lacquered snuffbox—a magical device Vreva remembered well from her training. She opened its lid and set it down next to her plate.

"Much better." Trellis sipped her wine. "You're out, Captain Vin." Her pleasant smile belied the harsh words.

"I'm what?" To his credit, Torius kept his face composed, but Vreva could tell from the flush of color that he knew what the marshal meant, and didn't like it at all.

"You're out of the organization. Effective immediately."

"Please," Vreva broke in, "I don't think it's necessary to—"

"And you need to shut your mouth at once, Vee!" Trellis's glare silenced Vreva. The sound of the name she'd used in her training days set Vreva's pulse pounding.

"I should have known better than to take your recommendation to bring in some brash pirate." Trellis maintained her pleasant mien, perusing the menu as if she cared what the restaurant had to offer. "Now your cover is blown and every bit of information you gathered is compromised. He ruined one of the best operatives we had. He's out!"

Vreva couldn't believe her ears. She's blaming Torius?

"Ruined?" Torius stiffened as if he'd been knifed. "That's ridiculous! She's the best—"

"Torius, please, let me." Vreva's first reaction was to quail under her mistress's lash, but years living on a knife's edge had tempered her. She stilled her pounding heart and steadied her hand as she reached for her wineglass. Swirling the vintage, she sipped, then leveled a carefully neutral stare at the Marshal of the Twilight Talons. "First of all, Helena, the discovery of my identity was not Torius's fault, but my own. It wouldn't have occurred if I hadn't built a personal relationship with the inquisitor assigned to hunt me."

"Our operatives informed me that he started a brawl with her and two squads of Okeno guards in the middle of the waterfront."

"Torius didn't start anything. The fight occurred after he had already been discovered, which was simple bad luck. Zarina arrived at my apartment when Torius was there delivering my supplies. His performance was flawless, but I think she was jealous. She used magic to discern his identity, and that was it." Vreva put down her wineglass. "I didn't know you had other operatives in Okeno."

"It wasn't deemed necessary for you to know. The less you knew, the less that inquisitor could have gotten out of you. Which reminds me, what did she get out of you?"

"Nothing." Vreva waved the waiter over. "Are we ready to eat? I'm simply famished! I'll have the beef fillet, rare, with reefclaw in butter." She looked sweetly to Marshal Trellis. "And you, dear?"

"The same," Trellis said, her tone as flat and warm as an anvil in winter.

"Make it three." Torius smiled genuinely, and nudged Vreva under the table.

When the waiter had gone, Trellis began again in a whisper. "What do you mean, she got nothing? You must have told her something!"

"With all due respect, Helena, you're wrong." She lifted her glass again and smiled congenially. "I told her nothing, and unless they've torn down the Inn of the Eighth Sin, my documents are probably still securely hidden in my apartment. I'd advise against sending anyone after them just yet, however. I'm sure the room's being watched."

"I see." The marshal fixed Vreva with a less hostile stare, and nodded. "I'm sorry you had to endure the interrogation."

"Not as sorry as I am." Vreva couldn't quite restrain the tremble in her hand as she raised her glass to her lips. "The point is, my discovery wasn't Torius's fault. As for my usefulness, I won't be able to take a trip to Okeno soon, but otherwise, I'm as useful as I ever was."

"Too risky," Trellis countered. "Every slaver in the Inner Sea region will know your face in a month."

"Then change my face. It's not like you haven't done it before." Vreva caught Torius's startled glance, but kept her eyes on Trellis. "You can place me in a half-dozen different cities, and I'll have every slave merchant there eating out of my hand in six months." Vreva glared an open dare at Trellis. "As for Torius, he's assumed alternate identities before, and can undoubtedly do so again."

"He has?" Trellis looked curiously at Torius. "Who have you impersonated?"

"I never claimed to be just a brash pirate." He sipped his wine and flashed his smile. "We recently pulled off a little scam on a merchant who was attempting to blackmail your operative here and have me killed."

Trellis narrowed her eyes at Vreva. "Is that where you disappeared to?"

"Yes. I played a small part. Torius was the one who worked the mark into position. He convinced a powerful merchant to sail with him all the way from Azir to Katapesh, then back to Sothis, where Ekhan—"

"Wait!" Trellis's eyes narrowed even further. "You mean Benrahi Ekhan? The situation with the Star of Thumen? "

"The very same." Torius leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin. "I see that news of our success has reached you."

"Tell me more about this assumed identity." Trellis leaned in toward the captain, instantly attentive.

Of course the marshal would know about Ekhan's arrest; she had spies in Sothis. But her sudden interest in Torius's skills unnerved Vreva.

"We disguised ourselves as Thuvian merchants, and touched at a half-dozen ports without anyone being the wiser. We sailed right into Ostenso under the eyes of the Chelish Navy!"

"Is that so?" Trellis took on a cunning look. "As it happens, I do have something that would suit you both."

Vreva opened her mouth to ask what she had in mind, but at that moment, waiters arrived with their dinners. The sight and smell of the glorious fare captured Vreva—she'd been living on ship's rations for far too long. Cutting a wedge of the luscious steak, she dredged it through the reefclaw butter and popped it into her mouth.

Glorious ...

"Ostenso."

Vreva nearly choked on her steak. She swallowed without chewing and reached for her wine.

"Ostenso?" Torius went pale, though he managed not to choke on his dinner.

"Yes." Trellis cut a piece of steak and sampled it. "This has nothing to do with the slave trade, so it will be safer for you, Vee. The Chelish have been rattling their sabers, and we need eyes in Ostenso." She eyed them questioningly. "Is there a problem?"

Vreva started to protest—she had promised herself never to return to her homeland—but Torius beat her to it.

"Actually, yes. The harbormaster ...um ...entertained me at her villa during my last visit, and I don't really care to cultivate a relationship with her." Torius drained his wineglass.

Trellis's smile widened, and Vreva knew there was no getting out of it.

"A relationship with the harbormaster makes this even better!" Trellis carved her steak with relish. "And Vee, since you are Chelish, you'll fit right in."

"I ...see." Vreva choked down another bite of her dinner, determined to keep calm. Vreva and Torius exchanged significant glances. There was going to be one hell of a discussion aboard Stargazer tonight.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Familiar Friends

I'm worried about her." Celeste coiled on the quarterdeck next to Torius, half of her concentration fixed on maintaining her illusory form, the other half on Vreva. "First she's a courtesan, then a spy. She's in love with the inquisitor, then hates her, then loves her again. Now this."

"I know." Torius shook his head.

Vreva sat on the pier below them, her legs folded tailor-fashion, hands on her knees, open palms toward the sky. She sang low, words that seemed to catch the ear, then drift away on the tendrils of fragrant smoke that wafted from the incense arranged before her. The really odd part, however, was the plate of fine porcelain mounded with diced chicken livers surrounded by the incense.

"She's been at it all day," Torius said. "It looks like she's praying, but I don't think Calistria would be impressed by a plate of chicken livers."

"I think she's gone completely wonky." Snick turned from where she was working to join them. "After what she's been through ..."

"She's stronger than you think, Snick."

Celeste didn't mind Torius's admiring tone. She thought she understood Vreva a bit better now, and found more pity in her heart than spite. They watched silently for a while longer, Thillion and Grogul joining them with some muttered speculation. Finally, a tiny cat, black with white dabs on its chest and paws, tottered down the dock toward Vreva. It looked young and half-starved.

The puzzle pieces all clicked together in Celeste's mind. "That's it!"

"That's what?"

"The cat, Torius. You remember her cat, Saffron?"

"Yes, but ...Ah! A familiar."

"Exactly." Celeste watched as the feline stalked cautiously up to Vreva. It stopped about two feet away, just out of reach, its tail flicking nervously. The sorcerer didn't move, but the pitch of her singing changed. The cat inched forward, ready to flee, finally close enough to sniff the food. Lashing its tail twice in quick succession, it looked up at Vreva once more, then bent to eat.

"Well, I think she's made a new friend," Torius said.

"I hope so." Celeste considered Vreva's way of life—lies within lies—and understood. "Everyone needs someone they can trust."

The cat finished eating, then sat down and flicked its tail a few times, looking up at Vreva. It meowed, and Vreva stopped singing. Nodding, she whispered, and the cat meowed again.

"I think she's talking to it." Torius sounded disbelieving, but Celeste knew better.

"Of course she is." The odd conversation continued.

"What do you suppose she's telling it?"

"I don't know, but I hope it works." Come on, accept her. Please!

As if the cat had heard her thoughts, it looked up to the small crowd on the quarterdeck. The cat meowed loudly, and Vreva whispered again. Then, finally, the scraggly feline hopped into her lap and climbed up to nuzzle her chin.

"Yes!" Celeste blinked away tears.

Vreva stood, cradling the little black cat in her arms, and walked back to the ship. She moved as she always had, graceful and precise, but Celeste noticed something else, something that had been missing since her rescue from the slavers. Vreva's confidence was back.

Vreva climbed the steps to the quarterdeck, rubbing her cheek on the cat's furry head. "I'd like to introduce you all to someone. This is my new friend, Mathias."

Celeste had never really liked cats—part of being a naga, probably—but this one was rather cute as it yowled and nuzzled Vreva's cheek. The courtesan leaned down and whispered something to it, and the animal settled down.

"And I've been informed that I should really introduce myself to you, also."

"What?" Celeste's tone came out harsher than she'd wished.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you all, and from this point on, I intend to be." Vreva scratched her new companion under the chin. "The truth, I'm told, is essential among true friends."

"Vreva, you needn't ..." Celeste began.

"It's really not necessary, if you don't want to," Torius added.

Grogul looked embarrassed and started to back away, but Vreva raised a forestalling hand. "No, Grogul. All of you stay, please."

"Yeah, would you all shut up!" Snick jostled her way to the fore. "If Vreva wants to tell us the truth, we should let her!" The gnome reached up a tentative hand for Mathias to sniff, and once accepted, scratched the cat behind its ears. Mathias meowed and purred, enjoying the attention.

Vreva laughed. "Mathias says that gnomes are wise, and you should listen to her."

"See? What have I been telling you all these years?" Their laughter broke the tension of the moment.

Vreva took a deep breath. "I owe you all my life—and the truth. My true name is Vera Jentis. I'm Chelish by birth."

"And Vreva Jhafae ...?" Thillion cocked an eyebrow.

"Was my cover identity in Okeno. That was my only identity for more than five years, but after what's happened, Vreva Jhafae is no longer viable." Vreva—Vera—sighed, and Mathias nudged her with his nose and meowed. "I know, love. I will." She smiled again and continued. "I was born in Egorian, in a prominent family of arcane casters. House Jentis has served the crown for generations. My parents, and theirs before them, deemed our arcane talents to be our one true worth to the empire. Those without magical talent were cast out."

"But you—"

"Quiet, Snick! Let her tell it!" Celeste nudged the gnome with her tail, earning a scowl.

"Not me, Snick, but my younger sister, Delphie. When she hadn't manifested any magical talent by the time she was thirteen, my parents ...sold her."

"Sold her?" Torius's hands clenched at his sides. "Gozreh's guts!"

Celeste caught her breath. She was the one who had unintentionally revealed to Vreva that Torius's own mother had sold him into slavery as a child. If he should learn of her indiscretion ...

But Vreva didn't even glance her way. "Until that day, I had never given slaves a second thought. We had many in the household. If they displeased, well, punishment was only fitting. Or so I thought, until Delphie ...She was my best friend."

"You don't need to tell us this, Vreva," Celeste said, forgetting that wasn't her real name.

"I do. I've never told anyone, and I need to." She cuddled Mathias closer. "I ran away, promising myself I would find Delphie and free her. Delphie was very pretty, you see, so I knew what would become of her." She paused and shook her head, blinking back tears. "I knew where to look, but when I found her ...I got her out, but ...she was hurt, and I had no way to heal her. She died. But she knew I hadn't abandoned her."

"So, you left Cheliax and came here?" Snick asked.

"Yes. I embraced Calistria, swore revenge on all slavers, and came here. The ...organization recruited and trained me, changed my face and my name, and eventually sent me to Okeno." She shrugged and wiped away tears. "You know the rest."

The quarterdeck remained silent for a long moment, before Vreva finally said, "I'm sorry I lied to you all."

"You didn't lie." Celeste's heart was about to break, but she swallowed her own tears. "You survived."

"Yes, well, now you know the truth." Vreva started to turn away, but Snick spoke up with her usual aplomb.

"So, should we call you Vera or Vreva?"

She turned back and smiled at the gnome. "Whatever you like, Snick. It doesn't matter." She reached out to ruffle Snick's hair. "I'll have a new name soon, anyway. Just like the rest of you."

About the Author

A sailing writer, or writing sailor (he's still not sure which), Chris A. Jackson is living his dream. Sailing full time since 2009, he and his wife divide their time between writing fantasy and cruising the Caribbean and the US East Coast. Chris's Scimitar Seas novels won multiple gold medals for best fantasy novel of the year from Foreword Reviews Magazine, and his Weapon of Flesh trilogy has become a Kindle bestseller, spurring international interest and a second series, the Weapon of Fear trilogy. His Pathfinder Tales work includes the novel Pirate's Honor as well as the free paizo.com story "Stargazer." Chris has also written extensively in the Iron Kingdoms world from Privateer Press, including the nautical novella Blood and Iron and stories in various anthologies.

For more information about upcoming novels, including further Pathfinder Tales adventures, drop by jaxbooks.com.

Glossary

All Pathfinder Tales novels are set in the rich and vibrant world of the Pathfinder campaign setting. Below are explanations of several key terms used in this book. For more information on the world of Golarion and the strange monsters, people, and deities that make it their home, see The Inner Sea World Guide, or dive into the game and begin playing your own adventures with the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Core Rulebook or the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Beginner Box, all available at paizo.com. Those particularly interested in more information about pirates like Torius should check out the Skull & Shackles Adventure Path and Pathfinder Player Companion: Pirates of the Inner Sea.

Abadar: Master of the First Vault and the god of cities, wealth, merchants, and law.

Absalom: Largest city in the Inner Sea region, located on the Isle of Kortos.

Abyss: Plane of evil and chaos ruled by demons, where many evil souls go after they die.

Alchemists: Spellcasters whose magic takes the form of potions, explosives, and strange mutagens that modify their own physiology.

Almas: Capital city of Andoran.

Aluum: Mysterious construct guardians employed by the rulers of Katapesh to help keep peace in the capital city.

Andoran: Democratic and freedom-loving nation known for its abolitionist military campaigns. For more information, see Pathfinder Player Companion: Andoran, Spirit of Liberty.

Andoren: Of or pertaining to Andoran; someone from Andoran.

Asmodeus: Devil-god of tyranny, slavery, pride, and contracts; lord of Hell and current patron deity of Cheliax.

Augustana: Port city in Andoran known for its shipyards.

Besmara: Goddess of piracy, strife, and sea monsters.

Bunyips: Ferocious creatures resembling a combination of shark and seal.

Calistria: Also known as the Savored Sting; goddess of trickery, lust, and revenge.

Cheliax: A powerful devil-worshiping nation located on the northern shore of the Inner Sea.

Chelish: Of or relating to the nation of Cheliax.

Cosmic Caravan: The constellations making up Golarion's zodiac, and of particular importance to astrologers.

Demons: Evil denizens of the plane of the Abyss, who seek only to maim, ruin, and feed on mortal souls.

Desna: Good-natured goddess of dreams, stars, travelers, and luck.

Druma: Shortened name for the Kalistocracy of Druma, a nation in which individuals view the accumulation of wealth as the highest possible goal.

Drumish: Of or relating to the nation of Druma.

Duenas: Band of hyenafolk that hunts the deserts of Katapesh.

Dwarves: Short, stocky humanoids who excel at physical labor, mining, and craftsmanship.

Eagle Knights: Military order in Andoran devoted to spreading the virtues of justice, equality, and freedom.

Elves: Long-lived, beautiful humanoids identifiable by pointed ears, lithe bodies, and pupils so large their eyes appear to be one color.

Familiars: Small creatures that assist certain types of spellcasters, often developing greater powers and intelligence than normal members of their kind.

Fleshfairs: Okeno's notorious slave market.

Garund: Southern continent of the Inner Sea region.

Gillmen: Race of amphibious humanoids descended from the Azlanti after that empire sank into the sea millennia ago.

Gnomes: Small humanoids with strange mindsets, big eyes, and often wildly colored hair.

Gozreh: God of nature, the sea, and weather. Depicted as a dual deity, with both male and female aspects.

Gray Corsairs: Naval division of the Steel Falcons, the Eagle Knight branch focused on abolitionist military activities. Often focused on raiding slave ships.

Half-Orcs: Born from unions between humans and orcs, members of this race have green or gray skin, brutish appearances, and short tempers, and are mistrusted by many societies.

Hyenafolk: Bestial and savage race of hyena-headed humanoids.

Inner Sea: The vast inland sea whose northern continent, Avistan, and southern continent, Garund, are the primary focus of the Pathfinder campaign setting.

Inquisitor: Religious spellcaster whose power comes from a god, and whose skills are particularly dedicated to hunting down enemies of the faith.

Isle of Kortos: Island at the center of the Inner Sea, on which the city of Absalom is situated.

Jalmeray: Island nation in the Obari Ocean, southeast of Katapesh.

Katapesh: Mighty trade-oriented nation south of the Inner Sea. Also the name of its capital city. Ruled by mysterious masked beings known as Pactmasters. For more information, see Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Dark Markets, A Guide to Katapesh.

Katapeshi: Of or related to the nation of Katapesh.

Keleshite: Of or related to the Empire of Kelesh, far to the east of the Inner Sea region.

Lamashtu: Goddess of monsters, madness, and nightmares.

Lunar Nagas: Race of nagas obsessed with the stars and astrology.

Masks: Slang term for the Pactmasters.

Mwangi: Of or pertaining to the Mwangi Expanse; someone from that region.

Mwangi Expanse: A sweltering region of jungles and savannas south of the Inner Sea.

Nagas: Race of intelligent, magical creatures with the heads of humans and bodies of snakes.

Nethys: Two-faced god of magic, pledged to both destroy the world and protect it. Also known as the All-Seeing Eye.

Obari Ocean: Ocean east of Garund.

Okeno: Island port city on Stonespine Island; center for the slave trade on the Inner Sea.

Osirian: Of or relating to the nation of Osirion, or a resident of Osirion.

Osirion: Ancient nation south of the Inner Sea renowned for its deserts, pharaohs, and pyramids.

Pactmasters: Council of mysterious, masked humanoid creatures that rule Katapesh.

Pathfinder: A member of the Pathfinder Society.

Pathfinder Lodge: Meeting house where members of the Pathfinder Society can buy provisions and swap stories.

Pathfinder Society: Organization of traveling scholars and adventurers who seek to document the world's wonders. Based out of Absalom.

People's Council: Elected body that rules Andoran.

Pesh: Narcotic drug made from a type of cactus.

Pharasma: The goddess of birth, death, and prophecy, who judges mortal souls after their deaths and sends them on to the appropriate afterlife; also known as the Lady of Graves.

Qadira: Desert nation on the eastern side of the Inner Sea.

Rough Beast: Rovagug.

Rovagug: Evil god of wrath, disaster, and destruction. Imprisoned deep beneath the earth by other deities.

Ruby Prince: Khemet III, the Forthbringer, current ruler of Osirion.

Scarab (currency): Gold coin from Katapesh.

Scroll: Magical document in which a spell is recorded so that it can be released when read, even if the reader doesn't know how to cast that spell. Destroyed as part of the casting process.

Shackles: Pirate isles southwest of the Inner Sea.

Sorcerer: Someone who casts spells through natural ability rather than faith or study.

Sothis: Capital city of the desert nation of Osirion, on the northeastern shores of Garund.

Steel Falcons: Branch of Andoran's Eagle Knights specifically dedicated to combating slavery through military force.

Taldan: Of or pertaining to Taldor; a citizen of Taldor.

Taldor: A formerly glorious nation that has lost many of its holdings in recent years to neglect and decadence.

Talmandor: Heavenly patron saint of Andoran, with a body that is half-man, half-eagle.

Trollhounds: Grotesque, monstrous hounds that regenerate injuries quickly and whose bites carry disease.

Twilight Talons: Top-secret espionage division of the Steel Falcons, thought by many to be merely a legend.

Varisia: Frontier region far northwest of the Inner Sea.

Varisian: Of or relating to the frontier region of Varisia, or a resident of that region. Ethnic Varisians tend to organize in clans and wander in caravans, acting as tinkers, musicians, dancers, or performers. Often have strong family ties and are maligned as thieves and swindlers.

Werejackals: Supernatural creatures with the ability to assume both human and jackal form, as well as a monstrous combination of the two.

Westcrown: Former capital of Cheliax, now overrun with shadow beasts and despair.

Wizard: Someone who casts spells through careful study and rigorous scientific methods rather than faith or innate talent, recording the necessary incantations in a spellbook.

Yellow Harbor: The main harbor of Okeno, named for the yellow sails of the slaver ships.

Zephyr Guard: The Katapesh city guard.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to everyone who helped with this novel: my wife, Anne, for putting up with my rough first draft; my editor, James, for answering about a million questions about spell effects; and the Pathfinder designers for creating such an awesome sandbox to play in.