Chapter 6: Strained Relations

Despite the cumbersome knife, Pearl proved a steady hand and a delicate manner as she pinched bits of glass from Baet’s foot.

“I should ask a diem for each shard I find,” she grinned as she extracted yet another sliver.

Baet winced and sighed his relief. “If I were a richer man, I should happily pay it,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder at her smooth freckled back. “How many do you have?” he asked.

“Nine so far,” she said as she poked about his foot in search of more. She leaned low and once again licked the blood from his foot.

“That’s gross,” Baet turned away.

“I cannot see my work, and it gets all over my hands,” she told him. “Is that the last of ‘em?” she asked.

Baet considered his foot as she gently prodded about with the delicate pads of her fingers. Though his foot was sore, there was no sharp pressure from any remaining glass. He smiled. “Darling, you’ve done good,” he said as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Pearl wiped the blade on his bloody sock, then gently put the sock back on his foot. “Now roll over and let me finish my proper work,” she ordered with a grin. She sheathed Gore Tongue and tossed it onto the pile of the guard’s possessions. Baet rolled over with a stiffy.

“I see your pawn is well rested,” Pearl smiled and grabbed at it.

Baet pulled away, sat up, and wrestled Pearl to the mattress.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused to have him simply lay on her.

He stared into her beautiful eyes and kissed her gently. “Let’s go slow,” he said, and proceeded to kiss about her face; her nose... eye... temple... ear... cheek... chin... neck... as he ran his fingers over her smooth freckled skin. After a long minute of such tender touching, Pearl squirmed and tried to push him off.

“Stop it,” she glared.

“What?” Baet began, now also confused. “Am I hurting you?”

“Quite the opposite—you’re boring me,” Pearl sneered. “I not here to breed babies, you idiot. I’m here to ride!” For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Then, Pearl’s eyes turned to slits. Still pinned beneath Baet, she wrapped her arms about him, pulled him in close, and bit his shoulder—hard.

Baet screamed and recoiled as he pushed Pearl away. She kicked and thrashed and screeched like a harpy. He managed to get free of her and slipped lightly to the floor as he favored his bum foot. Pearl untangled herself from the bedding, then glared at the guard as she rested on all fours.

Thoroughly confused and upset, Baet touched his bleeding shoulder. Now seething, Pearl charged to the edge of the bed, and took a swipe at his face. Baet saw her out of the corner of his eye and tried to duck the blow, but he couldn’t dodge as he was backed against her dresser. The palm of her hand struck him on the ear.

Infuriated by her rough treatment, and having little room to maneuver, Baet went on the offensive. He slapped her back. Pearl’s head snapped to the side. A line of blood appeared on her pretty lip. She stared at Baet in disbelief, and his heart sank. He didn’t want to make her bleed. He felt like an asshole.

Pearl massaged her jaw as shock, pain, and anger rippled across her face. She stared at Baet and her surprise was replaced by a devious lustiness. Pearl licked the blood from her lip, lowered her eyes, and with a seductive gaze, purred at him, “hit me again.”

Appalled at the idea, Baet backed away.

Pearl laid back on the bed with a moan as she settled on her covers. “Come, lover,” she began. “The war is over and I hold a sheath for thy blade,” she said as she spread her legs and arched her back. “Don’t you want to put your brat in me?” she begged.

Despite her rude behavior, Baet’s desire burned. She was certainly something to look at. “No more biting?” he asked, uninterested in the violence.

There was a softness in her eyes. “Promise,” she began. “Please?” she begged, with a frown on her lips and her arms outstretched. “Would you leave me like this?” She crawled over on all fours and begged him for a kiss.

She was being sweet and the burning had returned. Baet leaned in with his lips and slowly allowed Pearl to pull him back into bed. Her eyes were bright and she wore a welcome smile. He kissed her again and again. She rolled him over kindly, eager to proceed, and once more he let her have her way.

For a good dozen pushes, she was kind and gentle—an angel straight from heaven—then she sunk her nails and raked the guard with a vengeance. Several of her claws broke the skin as she drew long gashes down his chest and stomach.

Baet cursed and tried to push her away, only to have his arms raked instead. In desperation, he balled his fists and flailed back at her in order to force her to disengage. A fist caught her square on the left breast.

In pain, Pearl gasped and retracted her nails. She wrapped her arms around her offended mammary and rolled into a ball. Still floundering, Pearl flopped over the edge of the bed in a heap and landed against the dresser where she continued to cradle her bruised boob.

“What in hell’s name, lady?!” Baet excoriated. Blood ran down his chest, stomach, and shoulder in thin rivers from her scratches and bite. He clenched his fist and thought he might hit her again as he stood over her with an increasingly flaccid billy.

Pearl reached under her bed and produced a knife of her own. She pointed it at Baet as he backed away prudently. “Stop trying to use me like your sister!” she raged. “Your fire lacks heat! Come, boy! Fight hard, or fuck off!”

There was a knock at the door.

Baet realized he was being incredibly loud with his enemies in the other room. He blanched.

“Pearl?” A gruff voice called from the other side, full of concern and trepidation.

“I’m fine!” Pearl snapped. “Mind the fucking bar, Grebs!”

A defeated sigh came through the door. “You know Felicia don’t want you gettin’ so much blood on the sheets...”

“I pay well for it and I ain’t never late on rent, so don’t you tell me how to ride!” Pearl snapped and threw her shoe at the door.

Baet listened to the retreating footfalls as Grebs stepped down the hall. For several seconds he stood stock still and held his breath as he waited for any more interruptions. He half expected Garf and a dozen guards to break down the door and come rushing in—but it didn’t happen. Instead, Pearl simply glared at him—only now she had two knives.

Slowly, her gaze softened. Pearl reached overhead and with a practiced hand stuck the larger knife in the wall above her bed. Baet stared about puzzled to see the other knife was once again gone from sight. Where did she put it?

“You like games?” Pearl moaned. “Let’s see if we can’t shake that blade out of the wall with nothing but my wobbly headboard,” she winked.

“But then the blade...” Baet pointed as she sat below it.

“I only got but one little nick,” she pointed to a neat scar under her eye. “It’s all about rhythm,” she leaned against the headboard and banged it against the wall. Her rhythm grew more insistent and the blade began to wobble. She began to pant, to bite her lips, and moan in an attempt to lure him back into bed, as the knife shivered and wavered above her. He couldn’t fathom that she was so very beautiful—and damned near the craziest woman he’d ever met!

Baet remembered this wasn’t the place to be. He had work to do and this was all an egregious mistake. He turned away from Pearl and began to dress in a bit of a hurry.

Pearl stopped her cavorting and sat up in bed. “Oh what?! So now you’re done?!”

“I have to think,” he justified as he eyed her over his wounded shoulder. Pearl stood as he dressed. She watched him intently and he wondered if she might rush him once again. He really didn’t want to shoot her, but he would if she forced him.

After several long seconds, Pearl snorted, then pulled on her own clothes in a huff. She finished the task long before he did, as it pained him to pull on his shirt, and also to tie his cloak over his jacket. “You better leave the coin you owe!” she roared. “Just because you don’t want to finish, don’t mean you get my efforts, free and clear!”

Baet kept his distance as he latched his belts. He secured his weapons as he kept Pearl in sight. Pearl leaned heavily against the inside door. She glared at Baet as he continued to dress.

With all of his clothes on, Baet produced two diems and set them on the dresser, slow and deliberate. He sure didn’t want her coming after him with half the house in tow. He felt it was better to bite his pride and settle up square.

Pearl stomped over and snatched the diems off her dresser. “Fuck you,” she snarled in his face. “You couldn’t ride my mother to satisfaction!”

Baet backed away and opened the door that led to the alley. He slipped through, his nerves raw and on fire. His whole body sang with rage at having such a good time so thoroughly and pointlessly ruined. He still wanted to kiss and caress her smooth freckles—but he also wanted to wring her damned neck!

Pearl slammed the door behind him. The lock produced an audible click. In a huff, she turned and thought to make trouble for the stranger. She noticed how suspicious he was among the watchmen as he feigned interest in her. What really happened to his foot? And what of the cut on his side? She noted how neatly it healed and almost drove her finger in it right before he punched her in the tit. Pearl turned to the inner door and prepared her story.

A glint of something metallic stopped her dead in her tracks. What was that among her bedding? Did she see a coin?

For a long minute, Pearl thrashed about in her covers until she finally dug the small coin from beneath the folds of her blankets. She marveled at the sight: a small, round piece of gold stamped with the profile of some limp king. A sovereign! She’d never owned gold before! She stared at the slight coin and wondered at the potential.

For some time she held the coin and simply stared at it. Reluctantly, she turned and squirreled it away with the two diems. She beamed at the fine addition the coins made to her small pile of mostly copper. The sovereign alone nearly doubled her value! She now had more than she promised to save before she skipped town and made for the ocean!

Pearl stepped to the door, now slow and uncertain. It might be great fun to make trouble for the man-at-arms, but as she grabbed the knob, she wondered if Baet wasn’t some hoity-toity politico superiore as they liked to call themselves. He certainly dressed like one. She realized that if he was, going after him might cause her a world of problems, and he might discover he’d lost his money to boot. If so, he might force her to return it, and beat her bloody for the trouble—and not in a fun way!

Instead of causing misery for Baet, Pearl decided to focus on her earnings. Suddenly, she had more than she planned! She could leave at any time, and the sooner the better—except that one of her favorite clients was waiting at the bar. Pearl decided she’d work him hard, have him pack her bags, and go.

She yanked the door open. “Welen!” Pearl roared. “Get your ass in here!”

Welen stood from his post. charged across the lounge, and down the hall. Pearl rearranged her bed as Welen appeared in the doorway. “Hey kiddo...” he sighed.

“Where’s my coffee?!” she snapped. “Get it quick, and make sure it’s hot!” she threw a shoe at him. As Welen ordered coffee from Grebs, the few others still gathered about the common room snick ered and took bets on whether or not Pearl would make his face bleed again.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 6.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Baet stepped into the alleyway as a man loafed at the edge of the street. “Rough day?” The stranger snickered as he bent over a match and a roll of conicle. Baet snorted but thought better of making a reply. He felt he recognized the voice. What were the chances he should step out of the bordello and find this man in the alley, smoking all alone?!

Baet kept his head low, as he approached. He acted as if he simply meant to pass. Then, as he walked by, Baet lunged at the man, still fueled by the discord with Pearl.

At the last second, the man saw the attack and managed to save his throat. He ducked as much as he could, and caught an elbow to the right side of his beak instead. He reeled from the blow as blood gushed from his nose. Baet grabbed a handful of his stunned opponent’s tabard and yanked the man into the opposite wall of the thin alley. Off balance, his opponent just managed to get his hands up before he collided with the unforgiving bricks of the next building. He bounced off the wall in an awkward and painful manner, and flopped to the ground in a heap.

Blood drained from the man’s face as Baet stepped over him. “That’s for Haddelton,” he said as he stripped Banifourd of his sword and tossed it down the alley, then put a knee in the esquire’s chest and held Gore Tongue to his throat.

“What are you doing here, old buddy?” Baet grinned at his former colleague.

“The Velvet Tassel?” Banifourd coughed. “It’s my mother’s place. Been in her family for years.”

“Fancy colors,” Baet continued. “Where’s your red and black—or do you think you can just be done with us any ol’ time?” he asked, then slapped the man before he could answer. “What happened to the others?”

Banifourd groaned and squirmed under Baet’s knee. “It wasn’t me!” he yelled.

Baet pressed a bit more with the edge of his knife. Banifourd sucked air as he tried to back from the blade—but the ground wouldn’t let him sink any lower. Baet leaned in close. “Now quiet like, and you just might live,” he said. “You attract attention, you’re the only one that’s sure to die.”

Banifourd gulped.

“What happened to Edderfeld?”

“Killed by Garf. I swear it!” Banifourd gossiped in a harsh whisper.

“What about Barkaloe?”

“He’s dead.”

“Ainju?”

“Dead.”

“Launden?”

“The same,” Banifourd nodded. “There were only three survivors: you, the captain, and the duke.”

“Hucks, Julead?” Baet leaned in a little closer. “And Bence—where was he while Garf murdered everyone?”

Banifourd gave a little nod. “He loaded the horses, then kept the innkeeper and his family from interfering. It was his plan so he got the easy detail.”

Baet snorted. “Where’s Humbert?” he asked. “Is the count protecting him?”

“Who?” Banifourd replied, perplexed.

“Humbert. You know? The thief? The reason we all came so far north,” Baet glared as he explained the obvious. “Did you coax him to rob the duke—to lure us out of the Saot?”

Banifourd shook his head. “No. Humbert turned north and east in Gaetilly. He made for Land’s End.”

“Land’s End?!” Baet’s heart sunk. From Wibbeley, Land’s End was at two hard weeks away! “How the hell did we end up here if he went sideways?!”

“It was Bence’s plan,” Banifourd gulped. “We diverted Creigal to Wibbeley so we could ambush him.”

“So Humbert is acting on his own accord?” Baet asked.

“I don’t even know what he stole,” Banifourd claimed. Baet stared at his prisoner and considered the implications—which made Banifourd nervous. Not wanting to die, he continued to spill the beans. “Bence sent the letters. He’s the one that contacted Drefford and requested the additional men, then he panicked and didn’t want to do it because he saw that pin Launden flashed in Tollaub. Bence went on and on about it—a crumbled pillar with an iron core—supposed to represent Creigal’s secret army, the Fifth Guard,” he snorted.

“Ya don’t say?” Baet cut in with a mocking tone.

Banifourd stared at Baet and realized the rumors were true. “I don’t... I didn’t think it was real... Are you...?”

Baet said nothing, but there was a reason Baet landed a cushy guard detail at the duke’s manse the day he returned from his years in Rottershelm. He certainly didn’t stay in that overgrown nest of rats and vipers for its genteel and balmy climate! He was a patriot!

“What other secrets does Creigal keep from his nobles?” Banifourd asked.

“I’ll ask the questions,” Baet pointed.

Banifourd squirmed. “You have to believe me! It was all Bence and Garf! Bence came up with the plan, and Garf carried it out!”

Baet leaned in close. “And what about Haddelton, you snake?” Seized by horror, Banifourd floundered. Unsure what to say, he huffed and choked as he struggled to get free of Baet’s knee.

Baet had everything he wanted. He hit Banifourd in the side of the head with the butt of Gore Tongue, maybe a little harder than he intended. Banifourd’s head lulled to the side. His eyes glazed and closed as he went limp. Baet stood up and watched as Banifourd curled into the fetal position, still unconscious. He spit on the downed man and considered sticking Haddelton’s blade through his heart—just for good measure. Banifourd deserved no less for what he did: blood for blood.

But some part of Baet thought it was right to leave the man alive—or at least as much as he was... Banifourd twitched several times, and Baet wondered if might not die anyway. Chances were he was already dead, his body just going through the process of shutting it all down. Either way, he appeared to be suffering, and Baet was satisfied with that. If Banifourd lived, he might never be right again. A bad blow to the head could do that to a man. From there, Baet decided to leave it up to the gods.

Baet wiped his bloody hands on Banifourd’s shirt, picked the roll of conicle out of the dirt, and stepped away. He looked up at the sky and realized there were still a few hours of light left in the day. He stepped east, intent on returning to his duke and captain, pleased to have information, even if it wasn’t the news he wanted. He hopped as he walked. Despite Pearl’s disagreeable temperament, she did a surgeon’s work getting the glass out of his foot. Baet stepped along the road rather pleased with the results of his day and looked for a place where he might get a match.