Ship of Magic

Sorcor had lowered his eyes to his plate, but was sucking speculatively on his lower lip. He suddenly lifted his glance and boldly stared at one of the sisters. A blush raced up her cheeks at his glance. She did not meet his eyes, but she did not turn aside from his stare either. The younger girl could have been no more than fifteen, her sister at most seventeen. Smooth and unscarred they were, a man's transport into a gentle world where women were soft and quiet and saw willingly to their husbands' needs. A world many men probably dreamed about, Ke

Faldin pretended not to notice the pirate's ogling of his daughter. Instead he exclaimed, “Ah, refreshment. Let us take a moment from our business. Gentlemen, I welcome you to the hospitality of my home. I believe you've met Sincure Faldin. These two are my daughters, Alyssum and Lily.” Each girl nodded her head in turn, then took her place between their mother and father.

And these two, Ke

The sun had tracked much of the sky before Ke

“I could almost see him ciphering the numbers on the back of his tongue. How much would he have to overpay us for our next three cargoes to assure us of his goodwill?” Ke

“The younger one… was she Alyssum, or Lily?” Sorcor asked cautiously.

“Don't worry about it,” Ke

“Of course,” the burly pirate replied distractedly.

Ke

“No one does,” a small voice commiserated. “Not even whores.”

Slowly, as if the token were an insect that might take flight if startled, Ke

“Your pardon.” The tiny smile was mocking as his own. “I thought you had spoken to me first. I was just agreeing.”

“There is no strange weight, then, to be put on your words?”

The tiny wizardwood charm pursed its lips as if considering. “No more than I might put to yours,” the face suggested. He gave his master a pitying look. “I know no more than you know, sirrah. The only difference between us is that I admit more easily what I know. Try it yourself. Say this aloud: But in the long run, a whore can cost one more than the most wastrel wife.”

“What?”

“Eh?” An old man passing in the street turned back to him. “You spoke to me?”

“No. Nothing.”

The old man peered at him closer. “You're Captain Ke

Ke

The old man coughed wheezily, and then spat to one side. “Well, some also say they don't like the idea. They say you're getting too full of yourself. Too many pirates means the pickings get slimmer. And too many pirates preying on slaveships can irritate the Satrap to where he sends his galleys up our way. Knocking off fat merchant ships, well, that's one thing, laddie. But the Satrap gets a cut of those slave sales. We don't want to be digging in the pockets of the man what funds the warships, if you get my drift.”

“I do,” Ke

The geezer wheezed and then spat again. “But what I say,” he continued in a creakier voice. “Is more power to you. You put it to him, laddie, and give him a couple thrusts for me as well. Time someone showed him that blue ink on a man's face don't mean he's not a man any more. Not that I'd say that to just anyone around here. There's some as would think I needed shutting up, if they heard me speak so. But, seeing as how it was you, I thought I'd tell you this: not everyone that keeps silent is against you. That's all. That's all.” He went off into his wheezing cough again. It sounded painful.

Ke

The old man looked at the coin in amazement. Then he held it up and shook it after Ke

“To my health,” Ke

He was still distracted when he strode up to Bettel's bagnio. For such a chill evening, there were more idlers outside her door than he would have expected. Two of them were her regular toughs, cocky and gri

“Good evening.” He enunciated the reply, freighting it with a different meaning entirely. One of the idlers abruptly brayed aloud, a whiskey laugh that sent his fellows off into sniggering laughter. Brainless. He took the steps briskly, thinking that the music sounded louder tonight, the notes more brittle. Within, he endured the services of the serving boy, nodding perfunctorily that he was satisfied before passing into the i

There, finally, there were enough things out of routine that he was moved to lightly touch the hilt of the sword at his belt. Too many folk were in this room. Customers did not linger here. Bettel did not permit it. If a man came to pay for a whore, then he could take his purchase to a private room to enjoy as he pleased. This was not some cheap sailors' whorehouse, where the wares could be fondled and sampled before one bought. Bettel ran a proper house, discreet and dignified.