WARP world (15 page)

Worst of all, he made her want to know more about him. In fact, he made her want things she had never considered before.

“Captain Kalder!” Jibri called her thoughts back to the business at hand. “Papers, I have them! Assistant, too, yup.” The runner waved her leather folder and pointed to a tall boy, who pushed an empty, wooden cart.

Ama dropped the hammock and made her way to the dock. Both men lowered their eyes when she stepped in front of them. “You can look me in the eyes. I rarely bite.” The Welf did so, smiling nervously.

“This be Tev,” Jibri said, patting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’ll take care of all you need, well and true.”

She paid out the promised coin, plus a bit extra–an act of kindness to exorcise her bad thoughts and suspicions. To the boy, she gave a rough list of required provisions, as well as license to pick out a few extra treats if he thought them worth the coin.

Lord Flavert Uval pressed his lips together in a smile only his wife would fail to recognize as disingenuous, as she held up yet another bracelet for his approval. Was there no end to his wife’s hunger for trinkets?

“I simply cannot decide. Let’s see them all again,” he heard her say, as he turned from the merchant booth and pushed his way through the crowd of walking human refuse, two of his guards and a servant on his heels.

How he hated this stinking Welf port. If Hertia’s father had not graced them with the use of the summer estate at Alisir, he would be content to never set foot among this rabble again. When the old tyrant died, he had every intention of selling it off and relocating to T’ueve or Malvid.

To one side of him, he could hear a couple of Welf jabbering away at each other excitedly. Was there anything that didn’t excite them? One of the dirt lickers had been given a tip from some boat captain and you would think from his retelling of the event that he had been named Judicia instead of being tossed a meager half coin.

“Put it right in my hand, even asked my name, she did, yup!” the Welf repeated for the third time–enough to ignite the headache that had threatened Uval all afternoon.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned to leave. Unfortunately, the obnoxious Welf had decided to sprint off at the same moment and crashed into him, knocking Uval sideways. He turned to glare at the man who had been so negligent. The Welf bowed repeatedly and apologized, raising a palm skyward as he begged forgiveness. “So sorry, my Lord. My fault, all my fault. Wasn’t watching my step. So sorry.”

Uval scowled. Greedy, nattering vermin. “Clear my sight,” he ordered, waving his hand impatiently.

The Welf nodded two or three times then backed away.

“Wait!” Uval said, stopping the man in his tracks. Could it be? In his annoyance, he had almost missed an important detail of the dirt licker’s otherwise inane story. The
she
.

“My Lord?” the Welf cowered, obviously expecting a thrashing.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your good news. Which Captain gave you the extra coin?”

“Captain Kalder,” he answered, tightening the hand that held his payment.

Uval smothered a grin. “Really? My dear acquaintance, Captain Ama Kalder, here in Alisir? And where would she be, pray tell?”

Relieved to escape a beating, the Welf pointed, “Down there, next to the scrap hauler. Just got into port.”

Next to the scrap hauler
. How appropriate
.

“And does Captain Kalder have passengers?” Uval asked, feigning a benign interest he most certainly did not feel.

“Two,” the Welf, answered. Uval couldn’t help a slight frown. Passengers would complicate matters. “Fine Damiar gentlemen, such as yourself. But they both got off, gone now, yup. She’s all alone if you wants to visit her.”

Of course they had left, probably at a run. The men had obviously been in some desperate straights to travel so far on that wreck of a boat to begin with, but no Damiar would lower himself to actually sleep on the thing while in port. Even a dirt pile such as Alisir had lodgings vastly more suitable for men of his class. Which meant they would be gone at least until sunrise. Good.

“Oh, I do want to visit her, and thank you so much for your kind assistance…” Uval gestured for the Welf to supply a name.

“Jibri, I be, my Lord. Jibri Bel.”

“My thanks to you, Jibri.” Uval reached a gloved hand into his breast pocket, pulled out a half coin and held it out toward the Welf. “But don’t tell anyone, if you please. I would prefer to surprise her.”

“Swear to the Sky Fathers, not a word to no one, no, no!”

Uval grinned as he dropped the coin into the man’s outstretched palm. Parting with the coin didn’t bother him; he would send one of his men behind the Welf, to slit his throat at the first opportunity. Silence is priceless.

The Welf bowed and thanked and blessed his way away from Uval, who was already whispering instructions in the ear of his guard.

He wound his way through the bodies, to the railing overlooking the pier. There it was, that claptrap of a boat, on which the water rat had threatened him. Him. A Damiar Lord. And with a weapon no less.

What good fortune. What lovely happenstance. He still couldn’t believe his luck, to have the Kenda whore right here in Alisir.

Uval stood next to a piling, licking his lips. He would have to keep Hertia from spotting the slut she had found so ‘charming’. He couldn’t very well slit
her
throat, now could he?

Ama.
Captain
Ama…lest he forget. All alone. Yes, the self-righteous bitch was alone, but not for long.

F
or the trip to the temple, Seg hired a cartul and driver, as Ama had suggested. On this world, a ‘cartul’ was slang for any type of mammal-drawn transport and he had discovered that there were endless variations on the theme. The bulk of the cartuls for hire were simple, open-air affairs, drawn either by scruffy yet durable equine hybrids or the fat, plodding greshers that were also used for meat and heavy labor. Though the common cartuls were adequate for two travelers with no baggage, Seg also needed to consider his cover. From what he knew, both from his quick study and from observing the local Damiars, he decided on something much larger and more elaborate than was required. The benefit of this choice, he discovered, as they rumbled up the winding, mountain path in the relative comfort of their covered carriage, was that he and Manatu could sit out of listening range of the driver.

“You’d best have taken an anti-bio med,” Seg muttered quietly to Manatu. “Your death would be most inconvenient at this juncture. If you’d doubled your anti-nausea meds before we left port, as I’d told you, you might not have been stuck out there.” Idiot. At least, for the moment, a silent idiot.

As they drew closer, Seg could see the temple grounds. A large complex surrounded by rolling hills, his first target, the temple of Shasir’Pei, was situated in the heart of Welf territory. Its geography, combined with its historical significance, meant that the vast majority of the temple’s worshippers belonged to the lowest class. Many referred to it simply as ‘the Welf temple’. Since the uneducated Welf were the class most susceptible to Shasir trickery and propaganda, the temple promised to hold significant amounts of vita within.

The open design of the structure was ideal for the Shasir to pack in tens of thousands of soft-brained Welf Outers for indoctrination, mass religious ecstasy and hysteria. However, prime season for ceremonial gatherings was not for another week, and therefore the grounds were occupied only by a small number of Welf pilgrims and the occasional Damiar sightseer paying token devotions. Although the timing suited Seg’s schedule, the lack of bodies made it difficult for he and Manatu to hide in the crowds. He was very careful when taking his readings. The probe was concealed in his voluminous sleeve, and the VIU was giving him high readings of vita, to the top scale.

This strike alone would justify the mission, and he was only at the perimeter. He would have to move in closer to identify the tangible items the troops could carry away. Undoubtedly large parts of the very architecture would be moved out, which would require a major force package and at least a day’s occupation. But it could be done. Nothing was more frustrating to a Theorist than to find a vita-rich location that could not feasibly be moved through the warp. The Killing Cliff Ama had told him of would be such a structure, too big to extrans but rich in what he sought; human sacrifice unfailingly produced dense vita crops.

Seg moved closer to the fearsome looking statue standing guard at the gates to the temple’s interior. Arms spread, palms skyward, the stone likeness was that of a man, likely one of the Shasir leaders of old, judging by the attire. At the base of the statue, devotees had left offerings of food and drink, flowers, baskets, even articles of clothing. Seg looked down at the VIU, then up at the chiseled face, with a smirk. The statue was saturated with vita; its devoted worshippers had unwittingly marked it as a prime target.

As usual, such choice targets also bore the risk of fanatical defense, in this case the descent of thousands of maddened Welf upon the strike force. The devoted believers would not stand by and let their holy grounds be desecrated, that was a certainty.

A properly equipped expeditionary force could handle a rushing mob. It was the potential Shasir response that would be the concern for such a lengthy raid. In response to a full day’s occupation, the Shasir would have time to mobilize whatever toys they possessed capable of causing havoc.

As he contemplated the options, Seg proceeded further into the temple grounds.

Tev returned to the
Naida
with surprising speed. He helped Ama unload the supplies out of the cart into the galley and cargo hold, singing merrily the entire time. She thanked the boy and offered yet another half coin. Not in her right mind today. The sun had set; she would gather her soap and fresh clothes and dive in the river for a quick swim and bathe. Then wine and sleep. Lovely, lovely sleep.

As she reached for her clothes, from the cubby next to the head, she glanced over at the locker where Seg and Manatu’s larger luggage was stowed. Were the answers to her questions in there?

She could be quick. Just a peek to unravel the mystery of her odd passengers. Put her mind at ease. Yes, that was what she needed. She padded over to the cargo locker and traced her fingers over the latch.

This is crazy. Don’t do it. You’re already in enough trouble at home,
she thought, as she worked the latch open and lifted the door.

Inside, there were four large bags, all made of sturdy leather decorated with fine gold stitching, long tassles dangled from each end. She opened the first and examined the contents, which were stacked and stuffed in such a way it was a wonder the bag could stay closed.

“Damiar junk,” Ama muttered, plucking at a swathe of gold fabric she assumed was a sash of some sort and moving aside bottles of scented oil. Just the usual heaps of fluffery so esteemed by the upper classes.

As she dug through the unremarkable contents, her guilt gained the upper hand on her suspicions. After all, she shouldn’t be poking through the private belongings of her paying customers. She had resigned to pack up and attend to her much-needed bathing, when something caught her eye. A glint of metal.