The Elfmaid's Curse (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 1) (23 page)

            "What are you asking?"

            "Ten crowns."

            "Are you crazy? You aren't worth more than five." He seemed ready to hit her, then reconsidered. "Why did you ask for so much?"

           
I don't want to lay with the stinking bastard, stupid!

            He was waiting for an answer, and it had better be good. Dett was not known for his compassion.

            "The going rate is two crowns, master. But I can earn twenty crowns dancing for tips in the same time it would take to earn two with sex," she said, impressed with her fast thinking.

            He considered that for a moment. Then glancing at the waiting Sheik, he grinned evilly. Danica had a bad feeling about that.

            "Come with me," he said, striding toward the Sheik.

            Sheik Alibar rose to meet him. The other Jenaar warriors also rose. Dett stepped up and nodded at Alibar. He received a hint of a bow in return.

            "Sheik Alibar, I am Dett, War Chief of the Jordani," he said.

            "It is an honor, Chief," Alibar said. Indicating the other men sharing his table, "And these are some of my sons."

            Nodding at the others, "I understand you wish to see me about Danica here?"

            "That is so. Her asking price for a bit of loveplay seems a little steep considering the current situation in Samulla," he said, trying to smile. "Despite the fact she is an elf and quite striking, I fear you will have a difficult time making any money off her, unless you come down some."

            "I never specified a price," Dett said. Danica groaned as Alibar shot her an angry look. "I'll accept whatever is reasonable. But perhaps...," he glanced back at her with a grin, "…you would consider purchasing her? She is for sale — cheap."

            "Perhaps," Sheik Alibar said, rubbing his chin as he looked her over more closely. "She's not much of a dancer, but she is shapely and beautiful. And her golden hair and sapphire eyes will be worth their weight in gold in six months. Does she have any talent in pleasing men?"

            Grinning even more widely, "Perhaps you would like a free sample?"

            Alibar's eyes flashed at Danica, who just started back at him. Her heart was pounding in her ears so loud she could barely hear the men. Her chest felt tight and her belly melted into tingly mush. Worse, she could feel her sex growing wet and achy.

            "I accept your gracious offer," he said with a smile and a bow. Turning to Danica, he waved at the stairs. "After you, slave."

            Danica turned and slowly walked to the stairs on wobbly legs, Sheik Alibar following. She was afraid to even think about what he would do to her. Or consider what she was about to be forced to do with him. She glanced back at Raf, remembering what he did to her, remembering how he felt inside her, how he made her feel.

            Stopping at the bar, Danica asked, "A room, please."

            Sheik Alibar paid. He took her by the upper arm and led her upstairs to a room at the far end of the hallway. The closer they got, the shallower her breathing came, and the faster her heart beat. She began to fear she'd pass out, then prayed for it to happen.

            Pushing the door open, "Inside."

            "Yes, master," she whispered, stepping past him.

            Inside, he stood before the closed door and glared at her. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to anger him further, she knelt and kept her eyes downcast.

            "You lied to me."

            "Yes, master."

            "That's it? 'Yes, master.' Nothing more?" he said, voice rising. "If you were my slave, I'd cut out your lying tongue! If I buy you, I might anyway!"

            "I'm sorry, master. I was scared, that's all."

            "No excuse," he said, removing his kaffiyeh. "Know, slave, that if you fail to please me in every way, I will purchase you. Then I will remove your lying tongue, slowly." He gave her a hard look, "I suggest you find extremely pleasant ways to please me with that tongue, and quickly."

            Danica met his gaze. She didn't see any compassion, or even desire. All she could see was burning anger. Somehow she didn't think anything she did would be sufficient to please the Sheik. Her throat tightened as her mouth went dry.

            Rising to her feet, "Master?"

            "Yes?"

            Danica kicked the Sheik between the legs, as hard as she could. His eyes bulged, and he fell to his knees. He began retching as she pulled his scimitar out. Then she brought its jeweled hilt down atop his head.

            Leaning heavily against the door, she gave a heartfelt sigh of relief.

            Looking at the unconscious Sheik, "I don't seem to be making many friends here today." She opened the door, and peeked down the hallway. It was clear. "So far, so good." She glanced at the unconscious Sheik again. "Unless I get caught."

            Out in the dimly lit hallway, she headed back toward the stairs. There weren't any windows in the rooms or in the hallway. The only way out was through the tavern below, and through the Jordani, and the Sheik's sons.

            "I have to be the luckiest girl in the whole rotten world," she muttered, considering her chances of escaping. "Bandu, I've noticed you haven't been doing much for me lately, but I sure could use a little divine intervention about now."

Chapter 11

            Easing down the dark stairwell, Danica tried in vain to rein in her thundering heart. All she could hear was its beating in her ears. She knew what the Jordani would do to her for attacking the Sheik. Still, it was nothing compared to what his sons would do, or what he would do if he ever got his hands on her. Dett would no doubt be more than happy to sell her, for a substantial increase in price, so the Sheik could punish her at his leisure. Escape held a new urgency.

            Looking around the corner, she spotted all three Jordani at the bar drinking and joking. She could hear their conversations well since the bar was next to the stairwell. The el'Lacir brothers were still at their table talking quietly among themselves. Their mumbled conversations were too low for her to hear. No one was paying attention to the stairs.

            Flattening herself against the wall well within the shadows of the stairwell, she considered her options. She could make a run for the front door, or try to sneak out. Either way she wouldn't go unnoticed. The run option seemed the only way to go, but the Sheik's sons were sitting at a table very close to the path she had to take. Normally, they wouldn't interfere, but seeing her emerge so soon, and with their sire's scimitar, would definitely elicit a response, and a violent one at that. There was probably a back entrance, but she would have to get past the Jordani at the bar to get to it.

            Approaching footsteps from the room below brought her out of her reverie. There were two sets: a light tap-tap of a woman's shoes, and the deeper thumping of a man's boots with the jingle of spurs. Startled, she glanced up the stairs and realized she could never hope to reach the top before they arrived. So she threw herself down the stairs instead.

            Lowering her shoulders, Danica bowled over the giggling tavern girl just as she reached the stairwell. The girl was sent screaming back into the arms of a drunk soldier. Danica kicked him in the throat as he sagged under the weight of the girl in his arms.

            Brandishing the scimitar, she dodged through the scrambling men and women. Random tables were scattered between her and the front entrance. That entrance looked to be miles away. It sat there like a beacon to freedom, flashing multicolored light through its hanging strands of glass beads.

            As she feared, the el'Lacir men recovered quickly and moved to block her escape. Without slowing, she charged into their midst. Two men fell before her flashing blade within seconds, but the others didn't relent and, if anything, pressed harder.

            "Bandu Invincible!" she cried and dropped low, kicking at their feet.

            They jumped back. She took advantage of the momentary respite and darted away. Only to run into the charging Jordani.

            Ducking under Dett's attempt at decapitation, she kicked Jost low in the belly and tried for Raf's heart. He barely twisted aside in time, receiving a deep crease across the lamellar protecting his chest. Any deeper and it would have penetrated the thin steel plates. Cursing, she turned and parried Dett's thrust before darting past Raf.

            As she raced between the tables, trying to avoid both Jordani and el'Lacir alike, she heard some of the other patrons begin to give odds. Though she wasn't favored to win, she was pleased with the low odds given the others.

            "Yield!" Dett cried angrily, ducking under a thrown chair.

            "Make me!"

            Dett and Jost came around the table after her from different sides. She stepped up onto a chair, then the table. Before Raf could react, she was on him, blade flashing. The only thing that saved him was his armor.

            Danica spun away from him to engage two el'Lacir warriors as they joined the fight. Not thinking, she brought the heavy scimitar down as hard as she could on the shoulder of one el'Lacir brother. The blade got wedged tightly in his chest. He took her weapon away as he fell.

            The dead man's brother, so she ducked and drove shoulder first into his belly as she seized and lifted his legs at the knees. They were both left sprawled on the floor. Danica recovered first and drove a straight finger punch into the man's throat. She tried to take his scimitar, but he held on and tried to wrap an arm around her waist. Twisting free, she scrambled back to his dead brother. She twisted and pulled Sheik Alibar's bejeweled scimitar back out of his fallen son's chest.

            Turning at the sound of running feet, she parried Dett's thrust at her heart, then slashed Jost's face on her backstroke. Kicking at the el'Lacir warrior, she stepped between the two standing Jordani and took off for the door.

            As she approached, she spotted a lone el'Lacir warrior guarding that door. He stood ready, silhouetted against the multicolored entrance. As she charged, she screamed at the top of her lungs and snatched up a chair. Flinging it as hard as she could, she followed it in. He ducked under it, and she brought her scimitar down on his neck before he could recover. Then she was out the door.

            Danica turned right and raced up the steep stairlike street. She dodged through the milling mass of men and animals. Some of the men cried out upon noticing her carrying a weapon. Slaves weren't permitted weapons, and naked as she was, she could only be a slave. Though, no one moved to bar her path. Indeed, most were smart enough to get out of the way.

            She turned into a narrow, trash-strewn alley and continued to ascend. Angry shouts could be heard back on the street. She didn't waste time on looking back. There was no doubt in her mind that the citizens of Samulla would be very helpful in giving her pursuers accurate directions.

            She soon burst out of the alley onto a wide boulevard under a cloudless blue sky. A blood-splattered, nude slave wielding a gory scimitar, she quickly became the focus of everyone's attention.

            Realizing she would standout more in the richer, higher districts of the city, she turned right and headed for the more crowded lower city. In the poorer neighborhoods near the city walls and gates, she could find some poor soul passed out drunk in a dark alley and steal his clothes. Maybe with stolen clothes she wouldn't rate any special attention among all the mercenaries. But a disturbance further down the street proved to be two men in white kaffiyehs and djellabas brandishing scimitars. Jenaar tribesmen, and probably el'Lacir, too.

            Danica spun around and ran back up the street. Locating another alley, she ducked inside. She turned right at an intersection of alleys and scattered a group of bedraggled street urchins eating a half-cooked dog. Without slowing, she ran out of that alley, across a narrow street, and plunged into the shadowy alley on the other side. Then spotting a half rotten ladder, she scrambled up and into the hayloft of an abandoned stables.

            Most of the north side of the barn opened onto the burnt out husk of the next structure. The fire appeared to have been recent. She decided it might be a good bolt hole. It didn't appear that the local urchins and derelicts were using it yet. Then the sounds of running feet brought her back to the ladder.

            Hazarding a glance down, she spotted two Jenaar warriors. She recognized one from the tavern, the other was a stranger. He must've gone back to their House and picked up reinforcements. The Gods only knew how many men were looking for her now.

            "Yakir," the unfamiliar one said, breathless. "The slave is too fast. We need a strategy."

            "We don't have time, Jaheem," Yakir said. "If those thrice-damned Jordani catch her, then father will have to pay a fortune to buy her."

            "But they're strangers," he said. "They don't know the city like us. We have the advantage."

            "Maybe," Yakir said doubtfully. "But I do not care to explain to father that they caught the whore while we were planning our 'strategy.'"

           
Whore?
Danica thought, tilted eyes narrowing.
You wish, you goat loving...

            Yakir cried out, "Hey you!"

            She jumped back, heart racing. Had he seen her?

            "Yes, my Lord?" a high-pitched voice, a child's voice, asked guardedly.

            Danica relaxed. She crept over to peek out through a knot hole and listen in. The two el'Lacir men were standing with their fists balled up on their hips, glaring arrogantly at half a dozen filthy street urchins.

            "Have you seen a runaway slave," Yakir asked. "She has long golden hair and a scimitar."

            "Naked?" a small girl asked.

            "Yes!" Jaheem cried, taking a step towards them.

            The children all took two steps back. They had good cause to be wary. Street urchins were periodically hunted down and enslaved by commoners, slavers, and City Guardsmen alike.

            Reaching out a hand to restrain Jaheem, "Do you know where she is now?"

            "No," a tall boy, maybe in his early teens, admitted. Yakir and Jaheem scowled a moment. "But we might be able to find her."

           
No!

            The street urchins knew the city, and all its hideouts, better than anyone. At any given time, there could easily be several hundred of the half wild youths roaming the streets and alleys. If anyone could locate her fast, it was them.

            Grinning, Yakir said, "Deliver the slave to the House of Lacir, and you will be richly rewarded."

            "How much?" the boy asked, more boldly now.

            Danica never heard the answer. A shuffling noise from deep within the loft's shadows captured her attention. Spinning around, she spotted a man dressed like a steppe nomad half-buried and struggling to rise in a small haystack. He seemed disconcerted.

            A drunk.

            Sitting up, he stretched and yawned loudly. Afraid he would make too much noise, and thus bring the two men below up to investigate, Danica darted over and brought the jeweled pommel of her scimitar down atop his head.

            "You hear that?" Jaheem's voice came to her.

            The creaking of the ladder sent her scrambling for a hiding place. The small stacks of moldy hay were too obvious, so out of the question. So she ran over to the burnt out section with the intention of climbing down and escaping, but the excited shouts of children stopped her. She couldn't hope to outrun street urchins.

            Instead, she climbed up through a burn hole in the roof. Then after crawling over the peak, she lay quiet on the hot roof tiles and waited. Soon the voices of Yakir and Jaheem reached her.

            "Just a barbarian vagrant passed out drunk," Jaheem said, his disgust evident.

            "Search everything anyway," Yakir said. Then louder, "You find any sign of her down there?"

            "No, my Lord," a child's voice called back.

            "Damn her soul!" he cried. Then to the urchins below, "Bring her in before sunset, and I'll double the reward!"

            With excited cries, the children scampered away. Danica cursed her rotten luck. It was hard enough to escape being a naked blonde in a city of dark overdressed desert folk, but now hordes of very enthusiastic children were combing the city for her. Samulla was no longer a safe haven for her.

           
I've got to steal some clothes and a horse, and get out before the gates close for the night.

            She waited until she heard Jaheem and Yakir climb down the ladder and leave. And then she waited some more before daring to move. Cautiously, very cautiously, she eased back down to the loft. The derelict was just beginning to regain consciousness. His moans and groans of pain and misery were loud and soulful. Danica hit him over the head again.

            "Sorry," she said, grimacing. He stank to the high heavens of unwashed flesh and stale wine. "I need your clothes." Removing his shirt, she shook it out and eyed it warily. "The Gods only know what unholy vermin live in this."

            Face screwed up in distaste, she stripped him and donned the clothes. He proved to be only slightly larger than herself. The threadbare cotton shirt was a faded red and shiny with grime. The heavy cotton breeches were just as worn and filthy, with several unpatched rips. His worn and unpolished boots were the pointy-toed boots of the steppes, and slightly too big. He had no armor or weapons, not even a belt knife. She then removed all her feather and bead jewelry. The silver slave bracelet would have to wait for another day to be removed, but was well hidden inside the boot.