4 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet

Jorn Frennick's scimitar cleaved the air sharply, and Jherek met the yelling pirate's steel with his own. Sparks flared from the blades.

Despite the shadows and darkness filling the room, Jherek read the pirate's moves. Keeping track of the woman on the bed was harder, but he managed.

"Kill him!" Talif croaked hoarsely as he jockeyed for position.

"No," Jherek ordered. "We need him alive."

Frennick shifted on the bed, kicking at the frightened woman and forcing her away from him. She screamed in pain and covered her head with her hands.

Moving swiftly, Jherek raised a booted foot and slammed it into the center of the man's chest as hard as he could, getting his weight behind the thrust.

Frennick flew backward off the bed and crashed against the wall. Plaster shattered as he burst the inner wall and dust roiled up in a great cloud.

Jherek pursued the man, striding across the bed and barely avoiding the naked woman cowering in the twisted bedding. He slipped through the mosquito netting.

Wheezing, his face a mask of rage, Frennick struggled desperately to push himself up from the wreckage of the wall.

The young sailor feinted, drawing out Frennick's attack. Jherek stepped back just enough to let the wickedly curved blade pass by him. He slammed his cutlass broadside against the pirate's scimitar, trapping it against the left side of Frennick's body.

"I'm gonna kill you, whelp!" the pirate roared. "Gonna have your guts for garters, I am!"

The young sailor ducked his head forward, slamming the top of his skull into Frennick's face. The pirate's nose broke with a snap. Blood gushed over his beard. Before Frennick could recover, Jherek drew back his left hand, balled it into a fist, and slammed it against the man's jaw twice. Frennick staggered. Still in motion, the young sailor grabbed a handful of Frennick's beard and slammed the man's head up against the wall. He lifted his knee three times in quick succession, driving it into Frennick's stomach.

Vomit streamed suddenly from Frennick's mouth, a gush of noxious liquid that spilled down his chest and stomach. The stench of soured hops almost gagged Jherek, but the young sailor breathed shallowly through his mouth.

The strength drained from Frennick in a rush as he struggled to regain his breath. Jherek kicked the scimitar from the man's hand. He placed a foot on the back of Frennick's head to hold the pirate in place, then turned back to the woman on the bed.

Talif leaned over her, holding a pillow over her face. The woman struggled, kicking her feet and scratching with her fingernails. Talif cursed her in a quiet voice.

Jherek slipped the knife from his boot and threw it. The effort wasn't hidden by his body as Malorrie and Glawinn had coached.

The knife spun and cut the air.

Cursing, Talif leaped to one side so it wouldn't spear his face. "Umberlee take you," he snarled.

The woman on the bed sucked in her breath in ragged gasps. She peered at the young sailor with rolling, frightened eyes, not bothering to cover her nakedness at all. Tears tracked down her face, and she shivered.

Still cursing him, Talif turned his attention to the small chest at the foot of the bed. "If she leaves the room, she'll warn the tavern-maybe call his mates up here on us."

Jherek gazed at the woman. "Lady," he said softly enough only to be heard over the noise coming from the tavern below, "I ask that you not leave this room."

Slowly, the woman sank more deeply into the bedding. She shook her head in a small motion that stirred her dark curls and said, "No, sir. No, I won't try to leave."

The term of respect, applied in such a situation, stung Jherek. He dropped his eyes from the woman's in shame. To have come so far pursuing what he hoped would have been a clue to his destiny, only to end up like this, making prisoners of frightened women, it was almost too much. If it were up to him, he would have left then, but the pearl disk Vurgrom took was not Jherek's to leave.

Talif ransacked the room with quick, knowing movements. Small drawers came out of the chest at the foot of the bed. Each was checked, inside and under, before being discarded. The thief even went on to disassemble some of the bigger pieces, checking for hiding places within them.

Frennick remained dazed, sick drool oozing occasionally from the corner of his mouth.

Jherek bound the man's hand behind his back with strips torn from the stained and faded sheets. He yanked the man to his feet. Frennick swayed drunkenly, like a storm-tossed cog riding out a stiff crosswind.

"Lady," the young sailor said, "I have one more task to ask of you."

"Yes, sir." She looked at him in bright fear.

"Could you dress him, please?"

Talif's derisive snort filled the room.

Cautiously, the woman climbed from the bed. She left the bedding behind and stood naked, embarrassing Jherek further. She took the pirate's clothing from a pile beside the bed, choosing the breeches first.

"At least have the common sense to go through his clothing first," Talif called out as he helped himself to the coins inside Frennick's duffel.

"Search his clothing then," Jherek told the woman. "Leave his personal effects. I'm looking for a gold disk that looks very old. At its center is a pearl with a carved trident overlying a conch shell."

The woman knelt and began searching the pirate's clothing with experienced fingers, easily finding hidden pockets sewn into the material. Coins and small gems scattered on the floor before her, barely catching the dim light. Two small, very sharp blades that couldn't be properly called knives slid across the floor as well.

Frennick stood straighter, growling under his breath. "You've signed your own death warrant, boy. You do know that?"

"My death," Jherek told the pirate, looking him calmly in the eye, "was guaranteed the day of my birth. The only thing that remains to be seen is the how of it."

"At the end of my sword," Frennick promised, "with your guts spilled before you."

The young sailor glanced down at the woman, who was busy making some of the coins and gems disappear.

"No, lady," he said gently. "Don't rob him. You don't want him looking for you later."

The woman looked up and said, "He owes me a night's wages."

Embarrassed, knowing what the wages covered, Jherek gave her a tight nod. "As you will," he said.

The night's not over," Frennick grumbled. "She didn't earn all her wages."

"The night was over for you," the woman rasped. "Once you've gotten so deeply into your cups and sated yourself like some rutting goat, you never wake again until well after morningfeast."

Frennick snuffled, drawing in phlegm and saliva, preparing to spit.

Jherek yanked the pirate's head back as he spat. Frennick succeeded only in spitting into his own face.

"No," he told Frennick softly, hating that he was taking part in any of the night's events.

The pirate growled in rage.

"Take a fair price, lady," Jherek said. "No more, no less."

Jherek watched as the woman hesitated, then dropped most of the coins and gems back to the floor.

"I can't find a disk like the one you described, sir," the woman said.

"Please dress him," Jherek replied.

Frennick kicked at her, but the woman quickly dodged away. Jherek rapped the man's ear with the flat of the cutlass blade, splitting the skin.

"Conscious, or dead weight," the young sailor promised, "I'm getting you out of here tonight. How things go after that will depend on how you act now."

Reluctantly, Frennick stood, then stepped into the breeches the woman held ready for him.

"Watch her," Talif advised from the other side of the room. He pried at the facing along the bottom of the wall, searching for hidden places. The wood pulled out easily. "She may act like she hates that bastard, but she may try to slip him a knife all the same."