The Wyrm's Curse Ch. 09

A thought belatedly occurred, and Kara was surprised it hadn't earlier. Chalk that up to her growing capacity for being distracted by attractive women. Developing a thousand-yard stare, she went over the by now memorized list of flowers. And... yes. A blooming nightshade of the Endless Sands.

Well, Kara thought, it was certainly worth a try.

She blinked when Kira reached across with her spoon and thumped her knuckles. When she looked up, Kira pointed the spoon at their shield-bearing server, who stood with her head tipped to one side.

"Uh. Pardon me...?" Kara ventured.

"Before I go, is zere anything else you want?"

She spoke the common tongue, colored by a commingling of accents.

"Since you ask... perhaps you could assist a couple of travelers by answering a few questions?"

Braids bobbed and swung as the beauty shot a look back toward the bar. After a moment's thought she turned back and inclined her head.

"Ze scullery will abide a couple of minutes wit'out my attention. What is it you wish to know?"

"Well... it wasn't my main concern, but I was a little curious about the shield you're serving the food off of. The design doesn't look like anything from around here."

As Kara finished speaking, the woman lifted the shield-cum-tray and angled it to look down at it's painted face.

"You like? It is a... keepsake. To remind of my homeland."

"Your homeland?" Kara prompted.

"Yes. I was born and raised in Abharrik, a wealthy city. Much trade is done zere between Northern merchants and zose of ze Hamriti of Hazrahn. It is not so far South of the Great River."

Kara nodded slowly. When she said the Great River, the woman referred to the Eastern offshoot of the Shein-Marivell, which split off at a point more than two hundred miles South of Lesanne's Southern borders. Thanks to her years of travel, Kara had a vague understanding of the political structures and religious beliefs of the peoples who populated the Desert of Endless Sands. Or at least, they populated the regions along it's borders, where there were enough resources to support some civilization.

The term Hamriti referred to the territory ruled over by an Hamrit (pronounced Ahm-reet) -- a sort of combination king and high priest. Hazrahn was the name of the Hamrit currently ruling the territories of the Northern desert.

"I've never been South of the Great River," Kara admitted, "But I have shared kafe with a few merchants from Hazrahn who came North to trade. They all liked to talk."

She didn't add that they all liked her as well. She had received and declined several offers of a cushy life, were she to join the harem of one or another wealthy merchant. The men from Hazrahn seemed universally to view Elves as particularly desirable novelties. It was almost a fetish. Pointing out that she was only half Elven had done little to diminish their interest.

"Yes," the woman smiled, "It is zed in Hazrahn; 'Four staves hold up ze merchant's tent: money, kafe, smoking, and talking.' If you have shared kafe with Hazrahn merchants, you know more of the Hamriti than most in zis place."

Kara was not naturally an outgoing or gregarious sort. She would be the first to admit that what she made up for in wits and violence, she lacked in charisma.

"Yes, but I don't know much about you." she was painfully aware of how lame the line was even as she said it. "Your name doesn't start with a 'k', does it?" she added without meaning to say it out loud.

The woman arched an eyebrow.

"Zey call me Sezira," she answered, beginning to develop a smirk, "And you?"

"Kara. And Kira." The half elf gestured first to herself, and then to the Westerling girl, who promptly repeated her name, with emphasis on the proper pronunciation.

"Zis one, I sink, was also not born in zis region." Sezira observed, studying Kira. The girl returned the attention, apparently intrigued by the desert-born woman's braids and piercings.

"Dunmalin. Oh, about fifteen hundred miles West of here, give or take." Kara agreed.

"Zat far, eh?"

Something about the distracted quality of Sezira's voice as she said it, and the way the two were looking at each other, prompted Kara to push on. Right after wolfing down a few spoonfuls of stew.

Wiping her lip, she ventured, "And... are you a free woman? Married? Servant?"

Sezira's face clouded for a moment. Then she made an odd, graceful encircling gesture with her free hand.

"My master owns zis place."

"Oh." Kara was nonplussed for a moment. She had rather assumed the serving woman would be in some form of relationship, but hadn't guessed... Of course, it was possible she said master and meant husband. She came from a culture that was very patriarchal. At any rate, in for a penny... "Is your master the jealous type?"

Shifting her focus between her curious customers, Sezira developed a sly grin.

"Not at all. My master relishes a chance to try something new. And I am always involved." she let this hang on the air for a moment before adding, "You should stay, or return, if you would like an introduction. We close around midnight."

That said, she turned and headed back to the kitchen. Kara admired the tight fit of her trousers across her backside for a moment before shifting her attention, only to find Kira still rubber-necking. It seemed Kira's enthusiasm regarding new sexual experiences hadn't waned any. And the woman had seemed interested in them both, so maybe it was all for the best.

When Sezira had disappeared back into the kitchen, Kira looked to Kara, smiled and raised her eyebrows. Kara rolled her eyes, but nodded.

"Cuts quite a figure, doesn't she? Well, we'll see what's what come midnight. Now quite grinning like an Elvish tree cat and eat your stew before it gets cold." Kara jabbed her spoon at the girl's bowl before digging into her own meal.

The food was simple, but good. The grog was nothing special to Kara, but Kira was still intrigued by the lime-spiked concoction. Around the time they were finishing off the pitcher, she used a Westerling expression with which Kara had become familiar. With a grunt of agreement Kara hefted her pack and led the girl out into the night and across the Coast Road to a thin copse of keel oaks. Amidst the copse, lit by seamen's oil lamps hung on the stubs of clipped limbs, was a short, stout wooden structure with three doors. Public outhouses like this were a service provided by the City Magistrate, paid for by the taxes everyone loved to gripe about.

Kara took a lamp and handed another to Kira. Opening one of the doors, she pointed out the few features of the tiny 'sitting room', including the leather loop nailed into the door which could be looped over a peg in the frame to 'lock' the door.

When they had both emerged again, feeling decidedly less sloshy, Kara checked the sky. There were thin clouds scudding along further inland, but the moon was visible. She guessed it was about an hour yet until midnight.

Once back inside the Man-o-War, Kara handed her pack off to Kira and motioned the girl back to their table, holding up a finger to indicate she'd join her in just a moment. That done, she strode over to the bar and rapped on it with the knuckles of one hand. The old grey-beard looked up blearily, having recently crossed the threshold into properly drunk territory.

"'S not a door, y'know 'at? Ye... y'know... Knife-ears. Y'don't 'ave tuh knock. Y'see. Y' jus' yell at 'im. Go 'head." At which point he turned to holler hoarsely at the bartender, who stood back by the kitchen door frame like before, looking unimpressed like before. "Oi! Knife-ears... come, come serve Knife-ears, here. Heh. Y'good fer nothin' smiley bastard."

The bartender stared daggers at them both for a long moment before stepping closer. Kara glanced from the old man to the elf, gave a vaguely apologetic shrug.

"Nevermind, girl. When he gets drunk -- which is most every night -- he doesn't know or care what color are the coins he leaves. Or he secretly does, and it's his idea of penance. Either way, i've made a fair few extra silver off of his thirsty liver the last couple of years."

Being called 'girl' by the likes of Smiley would normally warrant an unkind retort, but under the circumstances Kara let it slide.

"Ah? Right. Anyway, I'll be wanting a room for the night. One bed is fine. Something with a lock and key for preference."

Smiley grunted noncommittally, considering this for a moment while wiping at a spot on the bar with a dirty rag.

"Room six, middle of the hall upstairs. There's rings set in door and frame, inside and out." He ducked down and fished around behind the bar, coming up with a heavy iron warded lock, with a key tied via slipknot to the curving bar with a bit of hemp twine. These he settled on the bar with a heavy thump, while holding his other hand out, palm up.

"Two silver, and that includes nothing extra."

It was a bit on the pricey side, even for a relatively expensive city like Black Fisher Point. With a frown, Kara nonetheless paid the sum without a fuss. Hopefully the planned rendezvous with the serving woman, Sezira, would take her mind off such concerns.

With lock and key in hand, Kara took Kira upstairs with her to check out the room. If it were infested with vermin or the roof was leaking, better to find out while she could still complain to the staff and switch rooms.

The room turned out to be simple and somewhat spartan, but clean and structurally sound. Checking the window, Kara found that there were a couple of stout iron bars in an iron frame secured within the window frame. On a small night stand was a single stumpy candle seated in a small clay dish.

Kara left their pack and bedroll on the bed. She tested the lock a couple times before fastening it on the outside of the door and hiding the key about her person.

The two passed a tall grizzled fellow and what was almost certainly a lady of negotiable affection on the stair, both of whom moved in a rum scented cloud. They were too busy groping each other and stumbling their way up the steps to pay anyone else any attention.

Down in the tavern, Smiley was herding the last of the patrons out the door. Kara was surprised to see that the old grey-beard from the bar was up and walking. Well, you could call it walking if you wanted to be generous.

Turning back after barring the door, Smiley noticed Kara standing at the bar, Kira perching atop the stool beside her.

"Oi, we're closed for the night. Back up to your room if you're staying. You don't want to be here when our night watchman comes through."

Kara gave him a dismissive look.

"Sezira asked us to stay."

Smiley frowned, then shrugged.

"Good. Tell her I moved the coin to the lockbox. And I'm for bed." He spoke over a shoulder while crossing the room to the stairs.

Before Kara could begin to wonder about the night watchman, a familiar figure emerged from the kitchen doorway. Followed by an unfamiliar one.

"Ah, so, you stayed. I am glad." Sezira smiled.

Kara hesitated, her smile faltering as the unfamiliar figure stepped around Sezira to stop and stand impassively behind the bar. It was an Elf... Of sorts. He was tall and lean, but still more heavily set than most Elves. His almost-white blond hair, shoulder length, was pulled tightly back into a tail that hung at the nape of his neck. Made more prominent by this were his ears -- longer and pointier even than those of the full blooded Elves native to Lessane. Rather than pale, his skin was the stark, opaque color of white marble, making his pale blue eyes stand out.

"Zis is Misha. Ah, Mikhail to you," Sezira explained, noticing the women's distraction, "our night watchman. He is from Ilyev."

Kara nodded slowly. She had seen Ilyevi Elves a few times on the Pirate Isles. And one amongst the bodyguards of one of the Hazrahn merchants. Ilyev was the last strictly Elvish kingdom left, lying even further East and North of Lessane than the Dunmalin tribes were West. They were renowned -- or infamous -- for their stoicism, tolerance for the cold, and disdain for humans. This last was seen by other Elves as somewhat ironic, since the Ilyevi had developed a sturdier, 'more human' build than their more Southern counterparts. Though, to be fair, the Ilyevi were fairly disdainful of other Elves -- and other sapient species -- as well.

On the rare occasion that one of them left the homeland, it was either as a pirate or a mercenary fighter. They had a reputation for speaking little and being extraordinarily difficult to kill.

At the mention of his name, the Elf spared a brief look at Kara and Kira, raising his chin slightly in a gesture of acknowledgment. Kara remembered the Ilyevi had their own language, so it was hard telling whether or not this one understood the common tongue. Unable to ignore her curiosity, she leaned forward over the bar to look. The watchman wore a broad leather belt -- almost a girdle -- over his drab linen clothes. At one hip a smallsword hung naked through an iron loop attached to the girdle. At the other hip a hand ax -- a boarding ax, in fact, with a whittled down handle -- dangled in a similar, but larger loop.

"Do not mind him. I have told him I would have company. Come. My master will be in our personal quarters." Sezira turned, gesturing for them to follow.

Well, Kara thought, if the desert-born woman had been plotting something, surely she would have made use of this very capable looking fellow. Going on appearances alone, Kara would not care to tangle with him. So thinking, she made her way around behind the bar and followed Sezira into the kitchen.

Kira lagged behind, having trouble pulling her attention away from the Ilyevi. Her people called regular elves 'knife-ears.' If they only knew.

Finally she turned away and followed Kara past shelves of pots and pans, a large woodstove, tables, barrels, and an extra cauldron full of soaking dishes. In the left rear corner of the kitchen was a sturdy door that opened into a short hallway, which led to a stair.

Sezira led them up, not bothering to fetch a light nor to comment on the dark. From above was a faint, dim light, and when they came into the room at the top, they found it lit by several candles. These were set in fine silver holders formed with saucer to catch the dribbling wax and a ring to aid in carrying. They were placed seemingly at random around the room.

The room was an exotic mishmash -- a bit like Sezira's accent. Rugs and beaded curtains and tasseled pillows from the Hamriti. A seaman's lantern next to a stack of books in Elvish on a shelf. The pelt of a Western black bear on the floor. An oak sea chest next to a bronze statuette of a mermaid holding a sand dollar like a serving tray against one scaly hip -- a small clay cup of the sort used for drinking rum had been left on the convenient flat surface.

"Your master..." Kara began, still looking around at the eclectic décor.

Sezira had stepped through one of the beaded curtains, into an alcove which the candles cast in shadow.

"She is glad to welcome you." It sounded as if she were either changing clothes or practicing some form of light exercise.

"She?" It took Kara just a moment, then she pulled an exasperated face. She plunked down on the edge of the bed and glared at the curtain and the shadows moving beyond it. "You don't have a master, do you?"

"Very perceptive. I am my own keeper. My given name is Sabalhasna al Hazred. A few years ago I was second mate on ze St. Etienne's Saber."

Kara had heard of the ship. One of a small pirate fleet plying the Eastern waters of the North Sea.

"Zey called me Requin de Sable then."

"Sand shark." Kara translated quietly.

"Just so."

"And... Wait, you said- If you-... You own this place?" Kara put together with more than a little surprise.

"If you were drunk, you hid it well... until now." Sezira teased.

"I can be a little slow," Kara admitted, "Let's say I was distracted by your beauty."

Sezira paused in whatever she was doing to laugh.

"I suppose I will not argue wiz zat." she allowed, "And yes, I own zis place. When I decided to retire from pirating, I took my share of silver and settled here in Ze Point. Worked here until ze former owner passed away. Zen bought ze deed from ze city clerk's office."

"Impressive."

While Kara and their host traded banter, Kira drifted around the room, examining various curiosities. When she had eyeballed everything that asked for it, she wondered briefly what was taking so long. Then she spent another moment becoming bored before considering the bed. Warming to the idea, she sat down next to Kara, then leaned back and wiggled her way to the center of the mink-blanketed expanse.

"Thank you," Sezira slowly emerged from the alcove, letting the beaded curtain trail back over her as she moved into the candlelight.

As Kara took in her new appearance, her eyebrows rose. Having closed her eyes to fully enjoy the comfort of the bed, Kira glanced up at the rattle of beads and gave a classic appreciative 'oooo.'

Having shed her clothes and replaced them with a long white mantle of thin, semi translucent material which draped her shoulders and hung to her upper thighs, Sezira presented a vision which might once have inspired the carving of idols and the painting of cave walls. Her face, like her body, was obscured only enough to add an enticing anticipation, by a veil of similar material. There came an odd, high pitched chime, or chorus of chimes, each time she moved.

Finding her audience most attentive, Sezira smiled and ever so slowly raised her hands up over her head. It became evident that the sheer white robe was slit up both sides, allowing her arms free movement. And as her arms came properly into view, silk scarves of scarlet and purple trailed and twirled against the curves of her body from where they were tied at her wrists and above her elbows. The desert beauty paused with wrists crossed above her head, rising on the balls of her feet and opening her hands, wherein little brass cymbals were clasped.

She held this pose for several seconds, eyes holding Kara's through the gauzy veil, before cutting the silence with the sharp, tinny sound of the cymbals. It was a different sound from the chimes which accompanied her bodily movement. And when that sound had finished reverberating in their ears, finally she moved.

First it was just her hips. They shifted to the right. Then left, and right again, slowly. Then back and forth in a short, rapid flurry, making a soft hiss against the ephemeral fabric draping her form. The chiming came in time with her movements. Kara had picked out tiny bells on anklets of woven leather thongs, but as Sezira began to move her upper body, she realized that there were another pair of similar bells -- these ones suspended, via fine silver rings, from their host's nipples.

Sezira paused again, then tapped a heel, setting a slow rhythm with the bells at her ankle.

Ching.

She began to shift her hips and shoulders.

Ching.

She rolled her lean tummy, thrusting forth her breasts and then pelvis in turn.

Ching.

Closing her eyes and letting her head tip languidly side to side in time to her dance, she trailed her long arms along each other, curling out to one side and then the other.

Ching.

And out in front of her. Opening her dark eyes again she caught Kira's wide green ones. Still dancing and moving her arms like twin hypnotic serpents, she curled and uncurled her fingers, turning it into a beckoning gesture.

Ching-shuhk-Shing.

Sezira took a couple very short steps closer. While Kara watched from where she sat, Kira crept on all fours to the edge of the bed next to her, as if spellbound.

Having artfully spun the little cymbals around to the outsides of her fingers, the ex-pirate snaked her hands out to brush lightly, tickling, along the Westerling's jaw and cheeks. She then leaned closer and lifted her hands to the back of the veil where it was held in place by a pair of pins. While she drew the pins, she shimmied, making the bells on her piercings jingle as her tits bounced and swayed.