The Way of the Black Beast (6 page)

The townspeople were so high on their success that they bought more than they should — fabrics and spices from Penmorvia to the north, shovels and hoes from Corlin towns to the east, and more alcohol from wherever (no one cared). When the last purchase had been made, Weyargo blew kisses to the people as he climbed into the driver's seat. "Thank you all," he said. "Enjoy your new things, and I promise to stop by when I come back this way later in the year. May Korstra and Kryssta smile upon you all."

The magician concentrated on his tattoo. With a bang, the flyer's engines ignited. The people stepped back, making a commotion of startled laughter as it lifted into the air and flew away.

To see a working flyer like that had been quite an event. Most people went their entire lives without ever seeing anything move that wasn't hitched up to horses. For these townspeople, this day had become far more memorable than any battle victory in the past.

Once the trader left, the musicians started up again, and the party resumed with even greater enthusiasm than before thanks to the extra alcohol. Malja surveyed the townspeople, searching for the handsome man. She found him dancing with a plump gal, twirling and laughing and flashing a charming smile. Malja didn't dance which was exactly why he caught her eye and waved her over.

When she stood, her alcohol-soaked head spun. She played it up and begged off the dancing. To her surprise, and the plump girl's ire, the man left the dance floor and walked over to her.

"You didn't have to stop dancing for me," she said.

"Well, you are the guest of honor," he said. Then in a mock-conspiratorial whisper, he added, "Besides, Nalli is a nice girl, but she talks a lot and steps on my feet."

Malja finished her drink in two gulps. "I'm not much of a dancer. Your feet might be safer with Nalli."

"You trying to say I should be nicer to her?"

Malja laced her fingers behind her head and stretched back. She didn't miss his eyes snatching a peek at her breasts. "I've seen a few towns and I'll tell you this much — most are far less friendly."

"Well, we like being friendly," he said as he stroked her knee.

"That's a bit bold."

"You don't get anywhere waiting for things to just happen."

Malja licked her lips. Traveling such an empty land meant she often went without human contact for long periods, and though she couldn't picture settling down in one town for any length of time, she wondered if a girl like Nalli had it better. Safer, certainly, but safer didn't mean much. She felt far more alive during the dangerous times in her life than the calm ones. Except for sex, nothing quite matched.

But sex often did. And with the life she led, that kind of contact rarely found her. No way would she miss a good opportunity — especially a good-looking good opportunity. "Let's go," she said, pulling on his wrist.

"What?"

"Will we be bothered in the stables?"

As Malja led the way, the man's face shifted from confusion to excitement. "By the way," he said, "my name is —"

"Don't care."

The closer they came to the stables, the hotter Malja's blood burned. The second they stepped inside, she wrenched him around and pressed her lips against his. They stood and kissed while music played in the distance. But her mind refused to shut off its game of remembering horrors. She saw the bleeding head of Duke Brotta as she tossed it into a swarm of hungry konapols.

"Something wrong?" the man asked.

"Harder," she said, smushing her mouth into his. She grasped his body, squeezing and rubbing. She leaned back, letting him lick her neck. But she saw the emaciated magician Lexip as she burned him alive.

She ripped open her lover's shirt and fumbled off his pants. She heard the wet slush of the Bluesman's sliced body. With a push, she sent her man to the ground. The scent of seawater and bile attacked her nose. She slipped out of her assault suit, straddled her partner, took hold of him and thrilled to his startled gasps as she guided him inside.

For a few minutes, her drunken mind shut down. The flashes of her violent past went dark and only the rough pleasure between her legs remained. She lifted slow and dropped hard, grinding her pelvis toward the ground, trying to think only of her technique and the sheer delight of skin on skin.

She had no illusions of a grand climax. For all his bravado, she could tell her lover lacked experience. The man tried to say something, but she ignored him. She simply took what he could offer and collapsed when he had nothing left.

With her head on his chest, she listened to his heavy breathing and pounding heartbeat. Those memories itched to return, but she refused to give in. She rolled onto her back, pulled her man on top, and pressed down on his head until he got the message. She would not let him come up for air until she had her release.

* * * *

Malja woke to the sound of a horse being saddled. The rider shushed and cursed and snapped at the horse. With her head throbbing, Malja sat up, careful not to disturb the man next to her, and investigated the noise.

Fawbry.

She sneered as she pulled Viper from her clothes pile. She walked straight into view, letting Viper lead as her threat. Fawbry startled at her approach. His face dropped in disbelief.

"You're naked," he said.

"And you're trying to escape. Question is — will you sit down and let me tie you up or are you going to do something stupid and let me kill you?"

The first cool day of the Postkryssta season had arrived. It wouldn't be long before the mornings began with a light frost and the chilly Korstraprime rains would follow soon after. Tommy nestled in front of Malja as she guided the horse back to Ms. Nolan's mansion. A second horse trailed behind with Fawbry bound in rope. She had intended for Fawbry to walk but the people of Noograff wanted to give her the bay in thanks. She still considered making Fawbry walk — especially after his attempted escape; however, she succumbed to the lure of faster travel. Especially with colder weather coming.

"I ought to thank you," Fawbry said. He had a north-country voice now that he wasn't playing Mayor — a slight accent as if educated from an early year. "Really," he continued. "I wasn't very good at that Mayor-leader thing, but I couldn't get out of it. I thought my incompetent leadership would've ended it, but those griffles refused to go and I didn't want them angry with me. They would've torn me apart. Literally. But they're loyal, I guess. Anyway, they probably think I'm dead now. By Kryssta, I would've been dead, if not for you."

Tommy pressed against Malja, trying to sleep despite Fawbry's ramblings. She rested a hand on the boy's thin shoulder.

"Anyway, thanks," Fawbry said. "And I'm sorry about this morning. I'm sure you understand. I've got to take the opportunities as they come. Nothing personal. So tell me about Ms. Nolan. You work for her long? What's she like?"

"Fawbry."

"Yes?"

"Stop talking."

As they traveled on, Malja fought against her mounting excitement. She had explored too much of the Corlin countryside, battled too many of its inhabitants, and suffered too greatly at its callous hand — all just to find Jarik and Callib. She had never felt closer. Yet she had grown accustomed to her best leads drifting into the air like dust. Fawbry, though, seemed to be the right kind of coward — the kind that worried about an immediate threat more than one far away. She expected her pressure on him to bring results.

Then she'll have Jarik and Callib. She'll track them down. Confront them. And before she sinks Viper down their throats, she'll get answers.

Tommy startled awake and looked at Malja with concern. She must have tensed her muscles without realizing. Patting his shoulder, she eased him back into slumber. It wasn't so easy to calm her thoughts.

That night they camped against a burnt-out home — only two stone walls remained. Fawbry tried to engage her in conversation, but she ignored him. No point in talking when she would be rid of him soon enough. Tommy, perhaps still high from the party, approached Fawbry with his hands together.

"What?" Fawbry asked. "You want to pray? You know about Kryssta?"

Malja snorted. "He wants to play The Reflex Game." To Tommy, she said, "It's okay. You can untie him."

Tommy did so and eagerly pantomimed how to play. Malja pulled out her eight-page book and read a little, but mostly she watched Fawbry. She had no fear of untying him. She recognized weakness and knew he wouldn't dare use Tommy as an escape. Still, she watched.

Though not as fun as the night before, she could see that Tommy enjoyed playing with Fawbry. And, to her surprise, Fawbry appeared equally amused. The sight of her cowardly prisoner slapping hands with her sweet boy made her feel odd because it seemed so normal. The boy amazed her. After all he had been through, he could still be a kid. She wished she could know his secret.

"Want to play?" Fawbry asked, while rubbing his red hands.

She was about to say
No
when Tommy pulled her over by the arm. They played the game, teasing and striking and feigning, until Tommy went to sleep. Without a word, Malja tied Fawbry up — a coward like him would run when she fell asleep. She returned to her book.

Fawbry shook his head. "I got no place to go, y'know." She didn't answer. "Right. I'll just be over here if you need me." He managed a few more sarcastic comments but eventually quieted down.

For awhile, Malja just soaked in the silence.

* * * *

Late the next day, they reached Ms. Nolan's mansion. Malja's heart sank. The main gate had been smashed open and bullet holes marred the concrete pillars. The number of bullet holes spoke to a large group attacking with great purpose — one doesn't waste bullets on a small target. Ms. Nolan was important, yet Malja couldn't help but wonder —
maybe they had expected me to be there.

The gate guard lay dead on the ground, his white sash spattered in crimson. The four northern konapols never made it out of their cages. Their lifeless eyes stared at Malja, mocking her.

She dismounted, and with Tommy's help, untied Fawbry.

"You're letting me go?" he asked, rubbing his arms.

Malja checked the guard's body for weapons or anything useful, but found nothing. He'd already been searched. "You can go, but you won't."

"Really now? Why's that?"

"Because Ms. Nolan is probably dead. Somebody's working hard to kill off anybody who can help me with information. Who do you suppose is next?"

"Who? Me?" Fawbry hugged himself, looking smaller than ever before. "I don't know anything."

"You do, and you'll help me."

"But—"

"Do you think you're safer alone or by my side?" Malja asked and trudged into the mansion. She said nothing when she heard Fawbry follow.

The interior faired worse than the exterior. The intruders had run out of ammunition or working guns and resorted to melee weapons. Fires burned low in the corners offering enough light to see. Five people hung from the foyer beams — the staff.

"Perhaps the boy and I should wait outside," Fawbry said, but Tommy sped up, passing them all for the large room where they had first met Ms. Nolan.

The statue of Prophet Galot lay in three large pieces and thousands of tiny marble shards as if the Devastation had happened again. Furniture had been piled into meager barriers working toward the back hall. Ms. Nolan had mounted a noble defense though outnumbered and inexperienced.

Stepping over the cracked waterways, Malja saw a dark spot on the floor. Though she knew the answer, she leaned in to be sure — blood. Fawbry interrupted her thoughts. "You think anybody lived through this?"

Glass shattered down the hall followed by an anguished cry. The sound echoed throughout the mansion. The cry of a burning soul.

"Never mind," Fawbry said. "I don't want to know."

Tommy settled against a wall, pouting at Malja's body language. She needed him out of the way and safe. Though he clearly wanted to come with her, she was pleased that he knew what times called for what actions. Fawbry would have to learn.

"Stay here," she said. Fawbry opened his mouth, probably to protest any plan other than leaving right away, but Malja glowered at him.

With a nervous nod, he raised a finger as if making an intellectual point. "I'll stay here."

Malja slunk down the hall, wielding Viper and watching every flickering shadow. The intricately carved door to the Dry Room had been blasted outward as if a giant fist had punched through it. Inside, she found Ms. Nolan, a guard, and another man — their bodies stacked in the corner like a cord of wood. The cage that held Ms. Nolan's sister, Audrex, no longer held anyone. The bars had been torn apart. Splintered wood and twisted metal littered the expensive floor.

Malja examined the corpses. Ms. Nolan's face had locked in a final expression of agony.
Or maybe betrayal,
Malja considered while glancing at the empty cage. Bruises covered the guard's body and his clothes were soaked. Drowned or beaten to death. Malja hoped for beaten — drowning ... no, she couldn't think about the thief's ship. Not now.

The third corpse caused Malja's stomach to squeeze tight. He wore a suit — all black, trim cut, black shirt, gold buttons. She looked closer at the wood scattered on the floor. Not too far away she found it — little pieces of guitar. One chunk had the letters BLU carved in it. The rest of the word lay elsewhere on the floor, but Malja knew it well.