Cursors's Fury

‘Yes, Captain. This way, sir.”

Ehren led Demos and his men up to Ullus’s bungalow. The fence came out to meet them, wearing a rusted old gladius through his belt, his face set in a scowl made fearless by drink. “Good day, Captain.”

“Fence,” Demos said, his tone flat. “I am here for my money.”

“Ah,” Ullus said. He looked at Demos’s armed escort and narrowed his eyes. “Well as I said, sir, three weeks was hardly time enough in which to liquidate your articles.”

“And as I said. You will pay me in cash for anything not sold.”

“I wish I had enough to afford it,” Ullus said. “But I don’t have access to such a great amount of coin in this season. If you come back to me in the autumn, I should have more available.”

Demos was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I regret it when business deals do not work out-but I made my position clear, fence. And whatever kind of snake you may be, my word is good.” He turned his head to his men, and said, “Cut his throat.”

Ullus’s sword came to his hand readily enough, out before any of Demos’s armsmen drew. “That might not be as easy as you think,” he said. “And it will profit you nothing. My coin is hidden. Kill me, and you will not see a copper ram of it.”

Demos lifted a hand, and his men stopped in their tracks. He stared at Ullus for a second, then said, “Bloody crows, man. You really are that stupid. I thought it was an act.”

“Stupid?” Ullus said. “Not so stupid that I’d let you run roughshod over me on my own island.”

Ehren remained very still, over to one side, where he might duck behind the bungalow should weaponplay commence. He felt the wind change quite suddenly. The fitful, restless breeze that had danced idly around the island for all of that day vanished. Something like the breath of some single, enormous beast rushed across the island in a single, enormous moan. The wind rose so suddenly that the pennons on the banner poles on the harbor snapped, their tips cracking like whips as the wind, hot and damp, sent the banners streaming to the horizon.

Demos’s attention flicked to the wind banners, and his eyes narrowed.

Some instinct cried out to him, and Ehren turned to Demos. “Captain,” he said. “In the interests of saving time, I have an offer for you.”

“Shut up, slave,” growled Ullus.

Demos glanced aside at Ehren, his eyes flat.

“I know where his coin is hidden,” Ehren said. “Grant me passage to the mainland, and I’ll show you where it is.”

Ullus whirled on Ehren in a fury. “Who do you think you are, you greasy little tosspot? Hold your tongue.” He brandished the rusty sword. “Or I will.”

“Captain?” Ehren pressed. “Have we a bargain?”

Ullus let out a cry of pure rage and rushed at Ehren, sword rising.

Ehren’s small knife appeared from its hiding place in his tunic’s roomy sleeve. He waited until the last moment for Ullus’s strike, and then slipped aside from it by the width of a hair. His knife struck out, a single stroke that left a cut two inches long and almost as deep.

Ullus’s throat sprayed blood. The ragged fence collapsed to the ground like a groggy drunk abruptly sure that it was time for a nap.

Ehren stared down at the man for a moment, regret sharp in him. Ullus was a fool, a liar, a criminal, and Jie’d doubtless done more than his share of despicable deeds in his time-but even so, Ehren had not wanted to kill him. But if Ehren’s instincts were correct, he’d had little choice. It was imperative that he leave the island, and Demos was his only way out.

He turned to Demos and leaned down to wipe the blade of his little knife clean on the back of Ullus’s tunic. “It would seem that your own arrangement with Ullus has been resolved in accordance with your terms. Have we a new bargain, Captain?”

Demos stared at Ehren, with neither more nor less expression on his face than before. He looked briefly at Ullus’s body. “It would seem I have little choice if I am to collect my coin.”

“That’s true enough,” Ehren agreed. “Captain, please. I have a sense that we do not wish to stand around talking about this all day.”

Demos’s teeth showed in an expression that was not a smile. “Your technique is sound, Cursor. “

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

Demos grunted. “They never do. Passage is one thing. Involving myself in more politics is another.”

“And more expensive?” Ehren asked.

“Commensurate with the risk. Dead men spend no coin.”

Ehren nodded once, sharply. “And your own loyalties, sir?”

“Negotiable.”

“Ullus’s coin,” Ehren said. “And a like amount upon return to Alera.”

“Double the amount on return,” Demos said. “Cash, no vouchers or letters of marque. You’re buying passage, not command of my vessel. And I’ll have your word not to go out of my sight until paid in full.”

Ehren tilted his head. “My word? Would you trust it?”

“Break it,” Demos said, “and the Cursors will hunt you down for sullying their business reputation.”

“True enough,” Ehren said, “if I worked for them. Done.”

Demos jerked his head in a nod. “Done. What do I call you?”

“Scribe.”