A Silver Lamp

"You return," she said, and Bromm swore he detected a hint of relief in her voice.

"I do, and I have brought the lamp."

Carella rose from her chair and crossed to him in a flurry. He barely had it out of its wrapping when she snatched it from his hands.

"You did," she whispered in awe. She ran her hands over the lamp and shuddered, then whispered something to herself in a tongue Bromm did not understand or recognize.

"Now will you teach me its secrets?" he asked, but she did not reply. Instead, her attention was fixed on the lamp as she scrutinized the flowing script around its exterior.

"Will you teach me to master it?" he demanded, more forcefully this time. She lifted her gaze from the lamp at last, her cool blue eyes passing impassively over his face.

"I have not forgotten our bargain, Captain," she replied haughtily. "I merely require a moment to study my prize."

"We should seal our pact before we go," Bromm said. "Swear an oath to serve me."

Carella turned a raised eyebrow on him. "An oath?" she demanded haughtily. "You are no lord."

"I am not, but you are a sorceress and now possessed of great power. Before you unlock the powers of a djinn, I would have you bound by an oath."

Carella laughed, silver bells mocking him with their sweetness. He flushed with embarrassed impotence. "And what will you do if I refuse? Take this lamp from me?"

Bromm said nothing, for she was right. He wore a sword at his hip, but against the powers of a sorceress it was likely to count for little. Carella stepped closer to him, a crooked smile on her face. She sniffed about his neck like a dog, and Bromm stiffened.

"I smell something about you. Not the stench of a dungeon, but the perfume of a woman."

His gaze fell to the floor, and he sheepishly rubbed one arm. "I had to escape the palace through the... women's quarters," he said.

"Indeed," the sorceress replied with amusement. "Perhaps we should seal our pact with a kiss instead of an oath? It would seem to be more to your liking."

Bromm swallowed hard as she leaned in, her lips so pink and inviting in the room's candlelight. The scent of spice was overpowering and crowded out the incense sticks that she had burned. Carella touched his arm and set the lamp aside on the table.

"Is this not to your liking?" she asked in a sultry voice. "I was so sure from the moment you saw me that you desired me. Or has your other tryst this night sated your desire for flesh?" Without waiting for a response, she pulled open her bodice to reveal her breasts. They were of a size that Bromm would never call large, but he hesitated to think of them as small. Like the rest of her, they were soft and pale, and her pink nipples called to him. He felt his trousers grow tighter about his nethers.

Bromm started to protest, half-forming something about an oath, but Carella grabbed his hands and slapped them to her breasts. Surrendering to her seduction, he squeezed them between his fingers and Carella pressed herself close to him in a deep kiss. She cupped his buttocks with her delicate hands, standing up on tiptoes to press her warm, wet mouth against his lips. She gave his ass a playful slap, then reached up to her shoulders and pulled her dress down to her waist.

Bromm tore away from the sorceress' lips and gulped down a look at her naked torso. She was a sight to behold in the dim candlelight, and he hastily yanked his shirt over his head. The sorceress went to her knees in front of him and pulled his hard cock from his trousers. Bromm fumbled with his clothes as he tried to strip himself while she ran her tongue along the shaft of his cock. Her blue dress pooled around her, framing her white face as she looked up to him and slapped his cock against her outstretched tongue.

He threw aside his clothes with abandon and his swordbelt clattered against the far wall of the room. Bromm paid it no mind, for Carella's pursed lips slid onto the tip of his cock and began their slow, delightful progress to the base. He met her steely blue eyes and she stared long and hard into his eyes as his cock penetrated deeper into her. Her tongue worked sorcerous wonders on him. With one hand steadying his cock, she used the other to caress his balls. Bromm's breath came hard to him and he wound his fingers through her hair, guiding her head back and forth along his cock.

At last, he could resist no longer. He bent down and lifted her to her feet with his hands beneath her armpits. She looked down at his cock as she left it, her pink lips in a petulant pout. Without waiting for her, he yanked her dress down from her waist to the floor. She now wore only her silken slippers, with which she stepped out of the dress to stand nearly nude on the floor.

Carella bit the tip of one finger and covered her sex with feigned modesty. She turned half away from him so that he might admire her profile, then stuck her ass out. She cut a stunning figure, a full-figured woman with ample ass to her and breasts to match. Bromm took his wet cock in one hand and stroked in vigorous anticipation. Carella backed away and steadied herself against the wall with both hands, spreading her legs to uncover her sex and the coarse brown hair above it.

"Come and get it," she hissed, her fingers splayed against the wood behind her, and Bromm came on. He thrust himself into her in one hungry motion, sinking himself up to the base of his cock before he could stop himself. Carella gasped, her eyes and mouth going wide as she was penetrated. Bromm put one hand against the wall to steady himself but used the other to raise her leg up so that he might fuck her more deeply. Carella smiled with glee, biting her lip as she began to work her hips on his cock.

"Is that all you got?" she taunted. Bromm grunted and doubled his efforts.

"You're not the first woman I've fucked tonight," he growled back, his eyes watching her swaying breasts and one hand squeezing her thick thighs. Carella laughed, and Bromm scowled in reply. "Or even the fourth."

"Left all your stamina in those whores?" she teased. She turned partly sideways to him, one hand against the wall and the other holding onto his neck while she balanced on one foot. Bromm fucked with all the passion he could muster and was rewarded by the sound of her banging against the wall. He looked up and slowed his movements, concerned for her, but she shook her head and settled her long hair about her shoulders before looking back into his eyes.

"That's what I'm after! Fuck me through the wall!" Bromm did his best to comply. The sound of his hips clapping against hers filled the room, and between it and the slamming against the wall, he feared he would wake the whole inn. Carella's eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Then her scream became audible. Bromm halted mid-thrust, so startled was he by the noise, but Carella turned a wild gaze on him and growled for him to continue. Somewhat frightened by the ravenous look she fixed on him, he obeyed. She begged for his cock, pleading for more.

"Don't stop, Bromm, keep fucking me, keep fucking!" She pivoted on her foot, putting her shoulders against the wall and pulling him closer. She clutched him to her body, the wild motion of her breasts stilled as they pressed together. Carella wound her fingers through his hair and beard and embraced him with a wet, sloppy kiss.

Bromm felt the warmth of her sex on his cock and his lips on his own and knew he was about to come. "Oh, Nystra's Tits, I'm going to come!" he cried, and to his surprise, Carella shoved him away.

He stumbled backwards in the room, catching himself against the edge of the bed. His cock waving lamely in front of him, he stared at Carella with confusion. She looked like a woman possessed. Her dark hair fell over her naked body in wild waves, and she dripped with sweat from all the exertion. But her face was a mask of primal desire.

"You're not coming yet," she growled and advanced on Bromm with her teeth bared. She seized him by the shoulders and threw him bodily onto the bed. He landed face-up on the soft mattress and bounced, hands raised to either side in confusion. No sooner had he settled than the sorceress mounted his cock and wrapped both hands around his throat. Bromm's instinct was to struggle, but he quickly found that he loved the hungry look on her face as she squeezed his throat in her hands and his flanks with her knees. His cock throbbed inside her, but he fought down the climax with considerable effort.

The sorceress rode him in a fury, her hips grinding back and forth, up and down, on him as she began to growl, then scream again. Bromm grabbed her breasts in his hands squeezed hard. He pinched her delicious nipples between his finger,s and she growled a guttural roar of delight at him. Bromm, unaccustomed to such savage lust from a woman, merely tried to hang on.

Bromm was quite taken aback. He had taken many a wench in such a manner, unleashing the frustrations of a long voyage on a ship empty of women on the purse of some poor dockside girl who found herself in need of coin, but the be on the receiving end of it from a sorceress was something for which he was entirely unprepared. Carella assailed his hard cock with an animal fury he had not seen before in a woman, and he had seen his share of drunken wantons on the hunt for manflesh.

Her grinding began to build to a crescendo and her knees wore away at the bedsheets until Bromm swore he could see the mattress beneath them. Carella released his throat and clawed at his chest, moaning in ecstasy, then threw her head back and screamed at the wooden ceiling. She quivered and gushed atop his cock and in that moment he unleashed himself within her. His cum mingled with her own wetness and he felt them both leak out of her and run down his cock to the bedsheets below.

Carella's quivering slowed to a halt, and she turned her gaze down to him.

"You've still some stamina left," she whispered, and the sudden quiet made Bromm all the more aware of how loud she had been just before.

"Never underestimate a sailor's desire to come," he replied with an exhausted smile. "We save it up for weeks at a time."

"Yes, yes," she replied dismissively, clapping him on the cheeks with one hand, "You're very manly and good in bed. Now go to sleep, Bromm. You have an important day tomorrow and you must be well-rested for it."

"Aye," he murmured, suddenly dreamy. "My first day as the terror of the seas. Our first day."

Carella smiled as she dismounted his cock. "Whatever you say. Sleep now, shush..."

Bromm settled himself onto the pillows and reached up to pull her close. With a bemused look, she lay beside him, her breasts brushing against his lips as she caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. He kissed her chest again, his eyes half-closed.

"You are so beautiful," he mumbled as sleep overtook him, and she chuckled in reply.

"Thank you, Captain. You poor thing, you must be exhausted. Time for a well-earned rest."

She stroked his hair and pulled the sheets up over his body. Bromm curled up against the warmth of her naked form and closed his eyes. The scent of spice was strong.

Bromm awoke to find the bed empty. The spot where Carella had lain was nearly cold, and the sheets thrown aside as if in haste. He sat up, the sheets falling away from his naked body as he cast confused looks about the room. Carella's things had disappeared as well. Her crystal ball was gone, as were her grimoires and divination cards. The smell of incense had nearly faded.

Bromm rose from the bed and set his bare feet on the wooden floor. The beams, cold in the pre-dawn dark, creaked slightly under his weight as he gathered up his clothes. He had a sudden thought and turned to where he had left the lamp.

It was gone.

Panicked, he tore open the room's cabinets and chests. They were empty. Bromm felt his heart pound in his chest once again. Without even dressing, he darted out into the hall and looked for the sorceress. Looking over the railing into the common room, he saw only the same sleepers that had been there when he returned from the palace. Returning to his room, he flung open the windows in desperation and looked out into the street.

Nothing moved in the street, save for a gray cat prowling the gutters. Carella was gone. Bromm clenched the windowsill in a white-knuckled grip, cursing his own stupidity. What was I thinking, trusting a sorceress?! She seduced me, tricked me into stealing the lamp for her and then made off with it while I was asleep! Sleep! Ha! She likely had a sorcerous hand in that, as well. He slammed his fists against the wall in frustration. The building creaked and he spared a moment's thought for the sleep of anyone he might have disturbed, but could not overcome his own frustration in the moment.

Now we're stuck here in port, with no winds to carry us away and surely the palace guards will be looking for us soon. And they don't even know to suspect Carella. She will be able to walk out the city gates right under their noses!

Even as he tried to banish the image of himself and his friends summitting the scaffold before a cheering crowd, he had to admire her cunning. At the same time, he cursed himself for falling for it. Nothing was like to rob him of wisdom than the sight of a beautiful woman. He paced the room in a helpless fury, clenching and unclenching his fists as he muttered curses to himself.

Outside, the first rays of dawn reached out across the city. Bromm swore again. His friends were awaiting him on the Shepherd, but there was no wind to carry them. Still becalmed, they were doomed to sit in the harbor until the emir's men stormed aboard to take them away for execution. And since he had escaped the dungeon last time, they would surely carry out the sentence immediately once they recaptured him.             

Throwing up his hands, Bromm sat on the bed to dress himself. I might as well die with a bit of dignity, he thought sourly as he pulled on his trousers.

The awning outside ruffled and snapped in a sudden wind. Bromm started, halfway through putting a boot on, and ran to the window. From the east came a rush of wind that tore through town. Palm fronds and awnings shook the wind and out in the harbor he could see sails filling.

"Eldrin be praised!" Bromm cried into the street. "Carella must have mastered the djinn."

But his joy was strangled in his throat for no sooner did the wind rush through the city than he saw the sails of the White Shepherd unfurl in the harbor. She was making for the sea without him.

Bromm ran from the room, hopping comically into the hall as he struggled to put on his boot at a dead run. He fell against the far wall with a bang, drawing a groggy shout from the room on the other side. With a mumbled apology, Bromm continued his hopping down the hall. He leapt over the railing into the common room, landing on the table with a crash that startled many of the sleepers before the hearth to wake. Behind the bar, the middle-aged innkeeper turned on him with fury.

"Just what in the gods' names do you think you're doing?!" she demanded, shaking a ladle at him.

"Sorry, have to go!" Bromm cried back as he jumped to the floor and bolted out the door. The woman continued shouting obscenities after him until the door banged shut behind him.

Bromm found the streets only a little more accommodating. He nearly bowled over a woman carrying bolts of cloth, then crashed through a cart laden with dates. The drover wheeled on him in a fury, riding crop raised high. He brought the crop down on Bromm's back, bare as he had not found the time to put on his shirt, and Bromm cried out in pain. But he wasted little time in leaping to his feet. The drover swung again, but Bromm caught the weapon and threw it aside before sprinting away down the street.

Windows flew open and fingers pointed at him as he ran, his breath coming fast and heavy in the twisting, narrow streets. He knew he would be the subject of the day's gossip whether he ended up on the block or made it out to sea.

Bromm rounded a corner and saw four of the palace guards ahead of him not five paces away. One he recognized as one of the guards they had locked up in his cell. The guardsman turned at the sound of Bromm's hurried approach and his eyes widened in recognition. He pointed an accusing finger and shouted, drawing the gazes of his three companions. Bromm turned on his heel and sped away, followed by the shouts and footsteps of the guards.

He was fortunate to have his boots on, for he splashed through a muddy alley that he hoped was too narrow for the guards to follow. He ran up the side of a mudbrick wall and over a pile of crates in the narrow alley, then out the opposite end of the alley. On the far side, he skidded to a halt and made a right-angle course change just as an arrow streaked past him from the alley and thudded into a wooden beam on the opposite side of the street. He cast a look back down the alley and saw the guards aiming a second shot at him.

Bromm fled their sight before the arrow left the bowstring and ran for the open expanse of the harbor ahead of him. White Shepherd had cast off from the quay already, no doubt making for the open sea under the same expectation of pursuit and execution that Bromm held. With one look Bromm knew it was too far from the shoreline for him to jump, and they were not like to turn around, even if they could maneuver against this wind blowing them out to sea. His eyes searched desperately along the wharf for a way aboard.

At the mouth of the harbor, the brig would pass between the emir's palace on one side and a tall guard tower on the other side. If he jumped from the shore out there, he might be able to make it aboard. It's the best plan I've got, he told himself as somewhere behind him the shouts of the guards drew nearer and more numerous. He took off running as fast as his legs would carry him. The Shepherd was drawing agonizingly close to the tower as his opportunity narrowed with each passing moment.

The tower sat at the end of a long breakwater topped by a narrow path, leaving him silhouetted against the early morning sky. Another arrow whistled by, falling just short of him as it skipped off the breakwater's rocks. It skittered across his path, however, the wildly spinning arrowhead nearly cutting his shins.

Bromm pressed his pace as best he could, the tower drawing near. Aboard the Shepherd, he could see his friends standing at the rail, shouting and encouraging him onward. Lukodo hung onto the ratlines with one hand, waving desperately at Bromm to run faster.

On the tower's parapet, a sentry emerged with a bow in hand. He leaned over the rail to regard Bromm with suspicious curiosity. Bromm waved to him and pointed to the Shepherd, hoping it would convey that he was not a threat. He had to concede that, even without the palace guards chasing him with murderous intent, a lone man running toward a watchtower was likely to be killed without a second thought. The sentry slowly nocked an arrow, his eyes narrow with suspicion as Bromm neared the base of the tower. He shouted up at the man, pointing again to the brig, but the sentry only seemed to grow more hostile.

There was a boom and a crack, and a cannonball whipped past the tower. The sentry scrambled from the parapet for the safety of the tower's interior, and Bromm looked with relief toward the crowd of smoke pouring from the White Shepherd's gunport. Through the smoke, he could see Pyet waving with elation. Bromm smiled back.

He pressed himself to his absolute limit as he neared the edge of the breakwater. The White Shepherd was just ahead of him, passing through the narrowest point of the harbor mouth. Another arrow streaked over his shoulder and splashed into the water. Bromm could feel himself about to give out. Drawing on his last bit of stamina, he leapt up a tall boulder at the water's edge and pushed off it with as much strength as he could muster. Arms flailing in the air, he soared over the expanse of open water and crashed against the brig's hull.