A Poisoned Gift

A Poisoned Gift

Bromm X

Alliss, Lady of Fortune, had embraced the city of Torvuls in recent weeks. Captain after captain had dropped anchor to announce fantastic hauls of treasure. From the Gates of Dawn to the Ivory Straits, ships laden with gold, silk, spices, and slaves had come to disgorge their plunder and revel in the spoils. Triumphant pirates thronged the taverns, whorehouses, gambling parlors, and streets of the city, raucous in their revelry and profligate in their purchases.

In was in the Naked Nymph, a popular inn and tavern just off the main market square, where a group of captains gathered in the backroom for a high-stakes game of cards. The table between these men was piled high with gold and jewels plundered from unfortunate ships' holds, and the edges of the table lined with empty bottles of liquor. The heavy scents of opium, tobacco, and indigo spice hung in the smoky air of the room.

Six captains sat around the table, two them already out of money but still stocked with liquor. A dwarf with a wide black beard braided with gold leaned back in his chair, his bare feet on the table as he smoked a pipe.

"Gods be good," muttered the tall, olive-skinned woman beside him. "Put your reeking feet away before we all choke to death on the fumes, Borres."

Borres laughed, wiggling his toes in her direction. "Calm down, Salima. We have no more money to lose tonight, just relax and enjoy the smoke."

She scowled at him, and then at the other players at the table. The dwarf was right, for he and her were both eliminated already, and Salima was quite bitter at the misfortune that had lost her all her stolen gold to the tall man at the head of the table. He was standing over a pile of coins and gems accrued from his tremendous run of luck. A young man, his beard was thick and black, his shoulders broad, and his eyes a deep green. He wore a silken shirt and embroidered bandolier, and on the chair behind him was hung a fine coat. On the table before him was laid a broad-brimmed black hat with a worn feather plume. In his sun-worn hand was a set of five cards that he threw down triumphantly before the others.

"Three dragons!" he cried, and the others groaned.

"Damn it all," muttered the visling Zyrdun. He shoved a pile of coins toward the victorious man before sinking back into his chair, his golden eyes on the dwindling pile before him. He ran a bronze hand through jet black hair and curled in lips in frustration. The others merely chuckled at his misfortune.

"My dear Bromm will ruin us all before the night is old," laughed the thin, wiry man between Zyrdun and Bromm. He was tall and willowy, with a thin mustache and a sailor's queue hanging down his neck. He wore an open shirt that showed a coarse carpet of chest hair, partly hidden beneath his embroidered bandolier.

Bromm raked in his winnings with a smile. Across from him sulked the sixth captain, a short yet handsome man named Armen. With a contemptuous flick of the wrist, Armen flung his cards back to Bromm.

"Eanmasor is dealing next. Try to give me some good cards this time. And take some for yourself why not," he sneered. "You've been bleeding all night."

"He's been bleeding all night," Zyrdun grumbled as Eanmasor shuffled the cards together, "Because he won't bet on anything but a sure win. And we can all see a sure win coming."

"Aye," Bromm agreed. "Zyrdun's right. You're a cheap bet, Eanmasor."

"Fortune favors the bold!" Borres laughed, banging his bare heel against the table for emphasis. The coins clinked together under the impact, and Salima grimaced.

"More rum!" she called toward the back of the room, where other pirates sat dicing and drinking. None moved. "More rum!" she yelled again, and one of the men looked up to her with a shrug. "Eldrin's knuckles, where's that serving wench?" she demanded.

"Earning her coin somewhere," Borres laughed. "All the women of the city are spreading their legs for coin these days."

"Aye," agreed Armen, looking at Salima, "You could take a lesson from them, Salima."

She turned an acid gaze at him and put a hand to the knife at her belt. "Watch your tongue lest you lose it, Armen."

He merely shrugged and held out a hand to catch the cards Eanmasor dealt him. He checked his cards and raised a theatrical eyebrow before setting them down again. From the back of the room, a young woman approached. She was of average height, but slender and fair, with long dark blonde hair hanging down her back as far as her narrow waist. Clad in a thin dress of pale blue silk, she carried two bottles of rum in her white arms. With her green eyes downcast, she passed around the table toward the visling. As she passed Borres, the dwarf reached out to goose her bottom and she yelped.

"Hands off my slave, dwarf," snapped Zyrdun, his golden eyes narrowing. "Or I'll take your hand for safekeeping."

"Apologies, Captain," replied Borres in a voice oozing insincerity. "I mistook the lass for the serving wench come at last."

"Nay, this is my rum," Zyrdun declared, taking the bottles from his slave girl and setting them on the table before him. "You may buy them from me for enough coin to keep me in this game."

"Speaking of the game," Bromm said, throwing a handful of coins into the middle of the table. "I would like to bet."

He leaned back in his chair, smiling imperiously over the table. Putting a protective hand over his cards, he stole a look toward the back of the room where his friends and officers were dicing. Satisfied that they too were sharing in his good fortune, he turned back to the game. The pile of coins had grown, and Bromm tapped his face-down cards in expectation of another winning hand.

Then, to his surprise, Eanmasor shoved a pile of coins into the pot. Bromm turned to the older pirate with a look of interest.

"Have you finally drawn a good hand or are you at last learning to bluff?" he asked. Armen snorted.

"He's learned to deal himself a good hand, more like."

"I am not the one at the table with a reputation for cheating," Eanmasor retorted with a pointed look at Salima. The corsair scowled at him.

"If I were a cheat, do you think I would be the first one out? That was a fine collection of gems your man Bromm won from me."

"Indeed it was," Armen agreed. "You promised us the story of where you got them and have yet to deliver."

Salima sighed. "Very well," she said, casting another look over her shoulder in vain search of the serving wench. "We received word from Lord Aryachas' spies that the miners of the Jeweled Isle had struck a vein of the finest emeralds, so we fitted out the Sea Serpent and made for Xenon's Isle. Lying in wait for three days, we watched two squadrons of galleons pass by laden with jewels and the emperor's soldiers. The Serpent is a fine ship, but no match for a squadron of galleons on the alert. At last, Apliss smiled on us and put a smaller, wounded vessel in our path. She was the Prince of Raislain, a forty-gun galleon showing her age. She had been caught in a storm and lost some of her sails, making her an easy target. The crew put up little fight and soon gave up the ship."

"Bah," scoffed Borres, "Put some flourish on the tale!"

"I have no flourish, just as I have no gems," Salima remarked bitterly. "Or any rum for that matter." She stood up from the table and stormed off in search of the inn's staff.

"Her loss," Eanmasor shrugged. "I'm in the mood for another tale. Zyrdun, how did you come to have this pretty girl in your power?"

Zyrdun threw another handful of coins into the pot and uncorked a bottle of rum.

"Ah yes," he slapped the girl on her ass himself and she started. Bromm's eyes fell upon her for the first time tonight, running from her delicate jawline and green eyes all the way down her slight frame to the long legs beneath her thin dress. In the candlelight of the inn's backroom, he could see the outline of her legs under the silk. Golden bracelets sparkled on her wrists and about her neck was hung a necklace of emeralds and pearls. The visling grinned with pride as the others admired his bejeweled concubine. With her arms held behind her back, she stood obediently at her master's side, eyes on the floor. Zyrdun took a long draw from the bottle and banged it down on the table.

"I dropped anchor in Slaveport to take on a new cargo. There have been many wars upriver, several warlords have fallen, their cities have been sacked, and the markets are glutted with slaves. I bought sixty strong men for the queen's plantations, but I found that one of my regular contacts had made poor choices and was nearly destitute. When I arrived at his home, he was selling off clothes and furniture to satisfy his debtors. I made a generous offer on his daughter, and now she warms my bed."

He reached over and grabbed her breast through the pale blue dress. She squeaked in meager protest but said nothing. Bromm felt the urge to lick his lips and occupied them with drinking from his wine bottle instead.

"Bad decisions can lead a man down from a great height. Now let us see if I will rise or fall tonight," Eanmasor declared, pushing all of his coin into the middle. The table chorused in anticipation.

"Well, why don't we see what you have there, Eanmasor," Bromm challenged, throwing in his money to match the bet. Armen matched it with a shrug, but Zyrdun deliberated, sipping from his bottle.

"Come on now, Zyrdun," Eanmasor taunted. "surely your luck will change soon!"

"Aye," Bromm agreed. "You think it a coincidence that he is betting aggressively the hand after we challenged him? It's a bluff, and a poor one at that, my friend."

"What a good friend you are, Bromm, to expose my bluff like that," Eanmasor replied. Bromm gave him an unapologetic shrug, and Zyrdun sighed and matched the bet. "Show 'em!"

They flipped their cards, and Bromm won yet again.

"Damn it all!" Zyrdun roared, slamming down his rum so hard it spurted rum from the top.

"You have Apliss' own luck tonight, Bromm," grumbled Armen. "It will change for you sooner or later, for the Lady of Fortune is a fickle lover."

"Perhaps," Bromm replied. "But for tonight, she is sucking my cock!"

"Ah... I thought I had you there," sighed Eanmasor. "Well, that's all I have tonight."

"Come now," said Bromm as he raked in his newest winnings. "Buy yourself back into the game."

"I cannot, I'm afraid. I've settled many debts tonight and have some more to pay up before I set out to sea again. My man Haben with the guild is owed some of this money."

"Well, you cannot just run off from the table like Salima. You owe me some stories."

"Aye, and you no longer have a game to concentrate on," added Borres.

"Very well, deal another hand while I tell you of where my money came from."

"You mean where my money came from," Bromm grinned over a growing stack of coins and jewels. Eanmasor shook his head.

"Indeed, your money. But until we leave port, you're buying us drinks!"

In answer, Bromm ripped a draw from his own bottle of red wine and belched. "Drinks all around! If only I could find the wench."

"She's off somewhere. But, the tale I promised!"

"Aye, the tale!"

"A month ago, we were laid up in port making repairs to the Wanderer. She's an old ship, but reliable when she's had her time in the yard. I was at the House of Silk, having a whore, when an elf came in. He was Calyran, the queen's sorcerer. He goes to the proprietor and says 'let all the captains who come in know that I'm looking for daring captains to hire for a task.' Well, I'm sitting right next to the man as he says this, so I said 'I'm a daring captain.' He looks me over and says I'll do, then gets right to explaining the job.

"There's this tomb, he says, the resting place of some ancient sorcerer-king. Calyran had found the location of it and wanted it plundered. He offered a bounty for all sorcerous items, tomes, scrolls, and the like brought to him. And, he says, some of them might be cursed, so he would free us grave robbers from any curse we might incur. I agreed, for I have never been tomb robbing before.

"And so when the repairs to Wanderer were done, we made our way out to the island where this sorcerer-king was supposed to be buried, only there was a problem. We weren't the only crew he hired to go after the treasure. Anchored off the island was Chariot, old Orrem's ship. And his men were already loading the treasure aboard!

"Well, we had had a hard sail there and were not about to let them make off with our treasure. So we sailed straight in and boarded the ship. It was a hard and bloody fight, I lost three dozen of my men, but we prevailed in the end. My mate Kynas cut down Orrem and I hauled down his colors. We put Chariot to the torch after we transferred the treasure to Wanderer and turned back toward Torvuls."

"A good plan," Borres nodded, "Let him take the risk of diving into old tombs."

"Aye, there's no safe way to explore a tomb," Zyrdun agreed. "They're all laden with magic and monsters."

"Another hand!" Bromm called, eager to continue his run of luck. Only Armen and Zyrdun remained in the game and the former agreed without a word. Zyrdun hesitated. He looked to his slave girl by his side and then to his money again. Bromm took two of the old electrum coins Zyrdun had brought to the table and clinked them together in his fingers. The visling took another swig from his rum bottle and threw his ante across the table.

"Good luck, Bromm, I'm off to find the wench and some more drink," Eanmasor said, rising from the table.

"You'll be back, right?" Bromm asked with more concern than he had meant. He and the older man had struck up a fast friendship since meeting in a West Market jeweler's shop five days before.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head none, I'll be back. Keep an eye on your cards, lad."

He stood up and left, heading out the same door that Salima had disappeared through in search of the serving staff. As the door swung open, Bromm could hear the roar of the common room crowd surge and then fade away again as the door shut behind Eanmasor.

The three remaining gamblers were dealt in by Borres, who had loaded his pipe with fresh tobacco. Zyrdun took the opportunity to light up a cigar of his own and the table grew smokier. Coughing, Bromm waved the smoke away as he tried to take stock of his opponents.

Zyrdun was still scowling at his cards, his bronze brow set with determination. Bromm smiled. The visling was deadest on winning back his money and would play to the bitter end. I can fleece him for all he's got, Bromm crowed to himself. Armen, meanwhile, was scowling at his cards and twice sneaked a look over his shoulder at the door. The man is impatient for his rum, thought Bromm.

Bromm bet aggressively, baiting both men in as the dwarf puffed on his pipe and taunted them all.

"Shut up, Borres," Zyrdun snapped, "You've got no skin in this game."

"Aye, but that's what makes it so fun. Hurry up and settle this so I can start a new game with duller cardsharks than you lot."

Armen threw his last coins into the pot and slumped back in his chair. "It's in the hands of the gods now," he muttered. He threw another look over his shoulder at the door.

Zyrdun was scowling as he played with the last stacks of coins. He checked his cards again anxiously and tapped ash from his cigar.

Bromm raised an eyebrow. "Have you got a good hand there?"

"You'll find out soon enough. I'm all in." he swept his coins and few remaining gems across the table to the main pot.

"That's not enough to match," Borres complained. "We'll have to break this out separately."

"No," Zyrdun interrupted. "I've got more." He reached down to his belt and emptied his purse onto the table. Borres and Bromm meticulously counted the fresh coins and the dwarf shook his head.

"You're still short, Zyrdun."

The visling frowned as he tapped his fingers against the table. "Very well. I bet the girl."

All eyes turned toward her and she started. Looking up from the floor, her cheeks turned a delightful shade of red and Bromm felt his breeches tighten.

"Go on, girl," Zyrdun urged. "Get up there. Is she enough to cover the difference?" he asked.

Bromm and Borres nodded as one. Armen merely shrugged. The visling slapped her on the ass and patted the table.

"Why don't you show us what we stand to win, Zyrdun?" asked Borres as the girl stepped forward. "Take her clothes off."

Zyrdun caught her by the wrist as he considered. He looked her over, his eyes resting on her ass. He gave it a hard squeeze.

"Do it. Show them what I see each night and morning," he commanded. The girl blushed a deeper red, her lower lip quivering as the visling tugged at the hem of her dress.

"Aye, get her naked," Bromm called with a belch for emphasis. "Show us those tits, girl. They look like a nice pair."

Zyrdun grew impatient and pulled the girl's dress down from her shoulders. She moved to cover herself with her hands and Zyrdun yanked the dress all the way to her ankles. He unfastened the emerald and pearl necklace about her neck and slipped the golden bracelets from her wrists, pocketing the jewelry.

"Get up here," he ordered, pointing to the pile of coins again. Timid as a mouse, she climbed up onto the table and knelt atop the pile. Zyrdun pulled off her silken slippers and left her completely naked in front of all the gamblers. Some of the sailors at the back of the room had taken notice and drew closer with interest.

Bromm's lieutenant Sahat slapped him on the shoulder. "I hope you've got a good hand, that's our payroll you've got there," he whispered in Bromm's ear. Bromm smiled confidently.

"Oh, my mistake. I forgot this," he said, and flung a ruby the size of a walnut onto the pile between the girl's legs. It clinked off the pile of coins and bounced up to hit the girl between her legs, right in her most sensitive woman's parts. She yelped in pained surprise, and the other pirates laughed.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Bromm slipped one of his cards out of his hand and exchanged it for another hidden under his hat. Borres, still watching the girl, leaned over the table and pinched her little breast in one rough hand.

Zyrdun angrily rose from his seat and pointed a threatening finger across the table. "I've warned you about that, dwarf!"

"She's not yours anymore," Borres replied, "She belongs to the pot now."

"Aye, those are the rules," Sahat agreed. Zyrdun gripped the edge of the table in two hands, his eyes blazing golden fire at the others.

"When she becomes mine again," the visling snarled, "I'll extract my price from you."

"Let's be done with this then," Armen snapped. "Show your cards. I have places to be." He flipped his hand over, a pair of knights.

Bromm smiled. He had the man beaten. Zyrdun was next. With a growl, he threw his cards down between the naked legs of his concubine. Bromm smiled wider, for the visling had only a pair of fives and a pair of eights. The other three captains turned their eyes to him, and Bromm leaned back in his chair. With one finger, he flipped over all his cards at once.

"Three dragons," he announced, and Zyrdun's face contorted in a bronze mask of rage. His fingers tightened around the table's edge in a white knuckled grip, and Bromm thought he meant to throw it over. The visling's biceps flexed, and the heavy oaken table lifted an inch off the ground. Her seat suddenly unsteady, the girl yelped in fright as the coins slide about beneath her.

"Calm down, Zyrdun," Borres raised his hands cautiously. "It's just a bit of fun."

The table dropped to the floor, setting the coins jingling again. Zyrdun straightened up.