Post by Jaema on Dec 13, 2008 14:21:09 GMT -5
{this story was the biographical set piece for Kali - one of the most engrossing, if short lived rp experiences I had. The Faullen guild was EQ2 bound, board role playing as a band of gypsies and pirates while waiting for EQ2 to launch. This was the story of how Kali came to find her new family and home in the Faullen camp. }
~ Three Bracelets ~
Kali tried to peek into the small sack that Luca dropped on the trunk. “Presents ? for me?” She asked laughing, holding out her hands.
“Not so fast, greedy one.” Luca kissed her slowly, tasting the summer that was nearly gone now. She smelled of flowers and meadow grass and her lips tasted of the summer fruit. Things he always missed while at sea. He pulled back, just enough to look down at her.
“How many skirts, Kali ?”
“Three,” she laughed.
“Really ? How lucky ... I have three presents for you.” He settled into the leather chair, waggling a finger at her. “One for each skirt, love.”
Kali cheeks colored and she untied the strings at her waist, watching the reflected firelight dance over his chest. “Dark blue, my favorite . . .” he murmured, as the skirt fell at her feet. Kali smiled and pointed to the sack. Luca pulled out a narrow belt of fine, soft leather, tossing it on the table for her with barely a glance.
“Next, “ he said hoarsely. Slowly she unknotted the violet ribbon and the second skirt fell with a soft swish. Their eyes locked for a long moment. His hands fumbled in the bag and he pulled out small wooden box, carved with a dove. Kali laughed happily. Twirling around, the firelight painting her hair copper, the last skirt a golden splash of yellow in the night dark room. Luca pulled her into his arms as it dropped, and stopped her spinning. Blindly, his hand slipped a gold bracelet over her fingers, while his mouth found hers.
It was near dawn before she even looked at her third prize. A delicate bracelet of fine gold; hearts, flowers, leaves entwined. It lay against the plainer, heavy gold bracelet her puridaia had given her for her dowry. She lay close to him in his bed, bare shoulders touching. He would leave her with a laugh and a kiss, months gone at sea. “It is no life for a woman to love a pirate,” she thought. She closed her eyes against the rising sun in the window. The dark gypsy men of her camp waited to claim the hand of Andorra Kali Baine. Her mother wept at Kali’s every refusal. Her grandfather raged. They would send her to live in another vitsa they threatened. Luca St. John would never find her again.
~ ~ ~
The Black Sickness raged all through the cold, wet Fall. Every day they mourned another, or three or seven. Young, old, it seemed not to matter. The townsfolk blamed the gypsies, the gypsies cursed the gaje. Long lines of funeral marchers trailed past the camp. Gypsy wagons burned to the ground after each death and the thick black smoke hung in spirals.
Her own mother was gone so quickly that Kali did not get to say goodbye. Her grandfather right after, not sick she thought, but heartbroken. Grains rotted in the cellars, the apples turned black. There was never enough food now for the living. Her grandmother white faced, bone thin, braided her hair and hummed her to sleep endless night after endless night. They all wept and cold rain mingled with the tears on their faces and Kali dreamt of drowning. Much later, the few remaining of the Faa family would insist to her that Kali’s puridaia, her wise hard grandmother, had been amongst the first to die, not the last.
She sat in the cold sand, the incessant, drizzling rain soaking her hair, staring at the horizon for his sails. “Luca” she whispered hoarsely. “Come back to me.”
~ ~ ~
Kali sang her song and moved about the tavern collecting coins. The barkeep signaled her to pick up the heavy tray he’d just loaded. Kali swallowed hard -- the smell of trolls hung in her nostrils, the tails of ratonga flicked around her ankles. But she listened for word of who had docked that day. All winter in Freeport she’d worked for food and the dock news. Now, near the winter solstice, her cheeks stiff with cold and her arms aching from the trays, she heard his laugh before she even saw him. Heading for the prized table near the fireplace, his arm slung around a beautiful Tier’Dal, his lips nuzzling her neck—her Luca.
Kali whirled around furiously, a storm of flying skirts and red hair and sent a china cup whizzing past Luca’s ear where it shattered against the swinging lantern.
“So .. you make sport while I wait for you. Faithless, whorin’ pirate," she shrieked. Kali jumped over the legs of the patrons between her and Luca and grabbed a handful of his fine white shirt front in her small fist. “I will not be trifled with Luca St. John.” Her fingertips tingling dangerously, she cared not who heard her. “I will turn your sorry pirate hide into a troll and leave you under the nearest wet bridge.”
Since her fledgling mage skills were no where strong enough for such a spell, that particular threat drew boisterous laughs from the nearest tables. Luca looked momentarily stunned and let go of the dark elf. In a fury Kali cast a burning spell on a hapless field mouse nosing along the window sill. Her finger tips tingling and nearly blue with her rage, the mouse fell in a black cinder. Kali looked down and saw Luca’s grinning head in it’s place.
The barkeep slammed a tankard down. “Do summit wit her before I do, jackass pirate.”
Breathless now Kali backed up to the tavern door, green eyes snapping fire like the summer lightening. Luca bounded off the chair, shaking broken china off his back. Crushing Kali to him he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Kali, Kali love, let me explain.” He looked over his shoulder at the drunk patrons who jeered and pounded on the tables at the unexpected floor show.
“Apparently she has missed me.” he shouted to the drunken audience. He whispered to her urgently. “Come with me.” With an apologetic grin and a shrug for the Tier’Dal he half carried, half pushed Kali out of the tavern.
Luca, his arms clamped over Kali’s hustled her against the tavern’s stone walls, pleading in a hoarse whisper. “Let me explain. Where’s your room. Kali, listen to me … “ he shook her shoulders roughly, stopping her tearful, insensible tirade “ … your room ?” Luca looked over his shoulder. No one had followed them out. Kali, weak kneed with a storm of desire and rage and relief, mumbled “cellar” to him.
In the tiny room off the wine cellar Luca lit a sputtering candle. Kali stared at him from her makeshift bed, her face streaked with tears. The thick walls of the tavern kept the temperature steady down here and with a small fire in the grate it was comfortable enough.
Looking around Luca cringed at the thought of his beautiful gypsy living her days in this cell. He knelt at her side. “Kali, I heard about the Black Sickness and I tried to find word of you. It never occurred to me you were here in Freeport.”
Tears flooded her eyes at the sound of his voice. For months she had dreamt of finding him.
Luca had the grace to look embarrassed. “The Tier’Dal. She’s an insider in Vendrian’s household. I need her knowledge.”
Kali started at the name of the powerful Shadow Knight. “You are in league with Vendrian ?” Her mouth was dry with sudden fear. She stared at Luca as if he were unknown to her.
“I did … a difficult run for him to the Reef of Tears. It is a way for me to get my own ship, Kali.”
Kali shook her head impatiently. “He will never give you a ship Luca. You will be his toady.”
He shook his head impatiently. “The next run, half the crew at least is sworn to me. After the cargo pick up I will take control of it. Kill the ones who won’t sail for me.”
“You think to stage a mutiny on Vendrian’s ship, steal his cargo and live another day, Luca ?” Kali’s voice shook.
“I will need to pick you up somewhere now.” Luca ignored her summary and rubbed his eyes. “I must think how to do that.”
Luca took Kali’s cold fingers and brought them to his mouth, his warm breath bringing feeling back to them. He kissed the palms, cringing at the calluses. All night as the moon made it’s circuit of the sky, they did a dance of lovers torn apart and reunited. Together they mimed a good bye to the life they had known. Kali stared at his face, memorizing every angle of it. Her mouth recalled the taste of his skin. Luca’s fingers traced forgotten muscle and bone, learning the map of Kali’s body again. Tears mixed with sighs. Muffled moans of heartbreak and desire against coarse linen and anger melted into remorse.
While he slept on her bed, Kali sat with her tea cup on the floor, staring at the leaves, as close to the fire as she could be without burning her shift. It was clear enough. No matter how many times she looked at the cup, it was foretold. So even then, the revenge was blooming in her heart and she started plotting how to avenge his eventual loss. And Luca slept deeply, dreaming of green meadows where Kali’s song mingled with the hoot of owls.
~~
Luca slipped back into her room in the morning with bread and cheese. “They are calling me ‘Teacup St. John’ down at the docks now,” he said ruefully, handing her the food. Kali flushed.
“You’ve a wicked throwing arm, Kali.” He stuffed his mouth with bread. “I spoke with Canta. You will meet him tomorrow morning before I sail. He will be my first mate once we take the ship. He will come for you here.” Luca pushed a hastily scribbled map in front of her. A good day’s walk down the coast. “You can do that right?” Luca peered at her white and silent face.
“Yes Luca, I can do it.”
“Eight moons from now, Kali. Then start walking.”
~~
It was the barbarian Canta who found her in the cellar, but only four days later. “He is dead,” he said gently, but plainly. His own face mottled with bruises, a large gash on his shoulder. He handed her Luca's dagger, smears of blood on it.
"Who's blood," she wondered. Kali would not weep before this stranger. “Get out,” she said only, her lips stiff. She pounded the stone walls until her hands bled.
~~
It was no great trick to be invisible in Freeport. You did not need a powerful potion or the wizard’s spell. You need only be a low-born female ------ serving girl, seamstress, tavern wench or whore. Young ones to old crones, they stepped over swords to serve drinks without getting a second look, knelt at the feet of powerful knights who never asked their names. They carried the trays, made the fires, satisfied the lust. And no male in this forsaken place feared dying at the hands of one of these invisible women.
Fools.
Kali brushed her hair with a vengeance, eyes hard and glittering in the sputtering candlelight. She chose her costume carefully. She needed to blend in with the stream of daily workers to the Shadow Knight’s keep, but catch his eye during dinner. She settled finally on covering her flaming hair with a scarf which she could pull off once he was settled in front of his fire, half drunk and looking for amusement. Her blood ran cold at the thought of him on top of her. She steeled herself. He would get nothing of her for the use of her body, not touch one particle of her real self. She could do this. Luca, she cried out from her soul.
She sold nearly all they had left, including the pretty box and belt he had gifted her with before they separated so long ago. Her heart would not allow her to part with the bracelet, but she included his dagger for the pawnbroker, to get the gold piece she needed for the poison. Hands shaking, fearing the ratonga alchemist would as soon kill her and take her gold, she’d finished the transaction and ran to her cellar room with fear a bitter metallic in her mouth. She’d given Luca’s last silver coin to Dalendriel, to have her place at the serving table. “You must never come back here after me,” she’d whispered to the girl who nodded in gratitude for the coin.
She carried trays all night to his table. In her pocket the tiny vial of poison felt as heavy as an anchor. Vendrian roared with laughter and sang bawdy songs with his inner circle. He was a piece of granite -- hard muscled, white haired, eyes so pale blue as to be colorless. She shivered in his gaze. She brought tray after tray of wine. Brushed his fingers as she handed him the goblets. He stared at her, her hair on fire with reflected torchlight. She restrained herself from dosing his wine in the kitchen. He must be in his bed, a whole night undetected to give her time to slip away. Her hands were like ice but not shaking. Her green eyes flat and unreflecting, like the sea before the worst storms of summer. And he followed every step she made in the room without missing a beat of the conversation around him.
The Tier’Dal watched Kali from one of the shadowed archways that ringed the dining room. She smiled then thinking how easy it was to make the humans do her bidding. Her plans had unfolded like the red carpet rolling down the aisles of the center hall. The hot headed young pirate had stepped into her trap so easily she had not lost a night’s sleep in the execution of that part of the plan. She had the loot from that ship and it in her command within hours of Vendrian hearing of the mutiny. Now his lover would kill Vendrian for her and she would step into the vacuum of power, no one the wiser that she’d made the space for herself.
She slipped her hands impatiently through her silver hair. The ratonga had told her Kali had purchased the necessary vial of poison. Would the gypsy girl lose heart now ? She had the look of murder in her eye the Tier’Dal thought watching her closely. Vendrian, like most men, too captivated to see the hate that smoked behind those green eyes whenever the girl leaned over him. Well no doubt he deserved to die, but the gypsy would kill him for the wrong reason. Her dusky blue lips curved in a smile.
She had thought Kali would have dosed his wine by now though, hastening the death that she likely had little stomach for anyway. The dark elf was impressed, despite herself, that Kali had the presence of mind to wait. Going undetected would be greatly enhanced by waiting until later, but she was surprised Kali had the nerve to postpone it this long. And the gypsy was gambling that she would be summoned to his bedchamber. The elf shifted against the column. She wondered if Kali knew that she herself was his favorite consort ? Her mind calculated every possible move from this point. Every possible outcome. Every looming disaster. Every potential victory. In the end, Vendrian must be dead tonight. Perhaps it was unwise to wait for the redhead to do it for her.
Kali opened the bed chamber door, her heart racing, face white as the snow on the distant mountains. She stopped cold, the tray rattling in her stiff hands. Vendrian lay face down in his bed, partially covered by the blankets, one arm hanging over the side. A Tier’Dal stood at the bedside, gorgeously but scantily robed and looking at the Shadow Knight impassively. Kali started as she recognized the dark elf that had been in Luca’s company in the tavern. The glasses on the tray chattered as her hands shook and she set it down on a chair.
The Tier’Dal spoke without looking up from Vendrian’s body. “I could not wait for you to do it. Although I think now you would have, aye ?” She added softly, raising her pale eyes to Kali.
Kali could see Vendrian’s extremities were already blue, no sound of breath from a man who otherwise would have been in a snoring, drunken stupor. “Aye, I would have.” Kali answered her icily. The tiny vial of poison was swinging in her skirt pocket still.
The Tier’Dal looked at Kali for a long moment and then down at Vendrian. A gold bracelet slipped down on his knuckles. Fine heavy gold, in a rope pattern. She pulled it off his cold hand and tossed it to Kali who caught it instinctively. “For the head of your pirate.” She pulled her robe tighter about her and looked away for a minute. “Cover your hair with your scarf and leave here now. Never come back.”
Kali kept walking out of Freeport, to the river, then following the stars, numb to the cold and the deed she’d nearly done. You could not be unchanged by the taking of a life. Or the planning of it. Kali thought she heard the whispers of her mother in the clattering gray branches in the woods.
Near daylight she came to the small caravan of the Djara familia. They fed her and chalked a map on a piece of leather. ‘You cannot stay with us, get further away. At this harbor town, ask for the Faullen," they advised. Kali nodded, numb beyond caring. She slept by their fire all that day while their jeweler cut a piece from the Shadow Knight’s bracelet and then rejoined it to make it her size. Gratefully Kali gave them the sizable lump of leftover gold with her blessing for their help. A satchel of food, a warm green blanket for her shoulders, new boots with a small dirk tucked in.
She walked another night and then another, sleeping by day in the weak winter sun or inside lonely barns. She could not remember the words to any song to lighten her walk, nor turn her face to any god for solace. But the days grew warmer and Winter loosed it’s grip. She stayed in small villages, while the block of ice around her heart melted in tiny drips. In her dreams a dark haired beauty smiled and beckoned to her. “Hurry Kali, hurry to us.”
Three braclets jingled on her arm. Her birthright, her first love, her taste of revenge.
~ Three Bracelets ~
Kali tried to peek into the small sack that Luca dropped on the trunk. “Presents ? for me?” She asked laughing, holding out her hands.
“Not so fast, greedy one.” Luca kissed her slowly, tasting the summer that was nearly gone now. She smelled of flowers and meadow grass and her lips tasted of the summer fruit. Things he always missed while at sea. He pulled back, just enough to look down at her.
“How many skirts, Kali ?”
“Three,” she laughed.
“Really ? How lucky ... I have three presents for you.” He settled into the leather chair, waggling a finger at her. “One for each skirt, love.”
Kali cheeks colored and she untied the strings at her waist, watching the reflected firelight dance over his chest. “Dark blue, my favorite . . .” he murmured, as the skirt fell at her feet. Kali smiled and pointed to the sack. Luca pulled out a narrow belt of fine, soft leather, tossing it on the table for her with barely a glance.
“Next, “ he said hoarsely. Slowly she unknotted the violet ribbon and the second skirt fell with a soft swish. Their eyes locked for a long moment. His hands fumbled in the bag and he pulled out small wooden box, carved with a dove. Kali laughed happily. Twirling around, the firelight painting her hair copper, the last skirt a golden splash of yellow in the night dark room. Luca pulled her into his arms as it dropped, and stopped her spinning. Blindly, his hand slipped a gold bracelet over her fingers, while his mouth found hers.
It was near dawn before she even looked at her third prize. A delicate bracelet of fine gold; hearts, flowers, leaves entwined. It lay against the plainer, heavy gold bracelet her puridaia had given her for her dowry. She lay close to him in his bed, bare shoulders touching. He would leave her with a laugh and a kiss, months gone at sea. “It is no life for a woman to love a pirate,” she thought. She closed her eyes against the rising sun in the window. The dark gypsy men of her camp waited to claim the hand of Andorra Kali Baine. Her mother wept at Kali’s every refusal. Her grandfather raged. They would send her to live in another vitsa they threatened. Luca St. John would never find her again.
~ ~ ~
The Black Sickness raged all through the cold, wet Fall. Every day they mourned another, or three or seven. Young, old, it seemed not to matter. The townsfolk blamed the gypsies, the gypsies cursed the gaje. Long lines of funeral marchers trailed past the camp. Gypsy wagons burned to the ground after each death and the thick black smoke hung in spirals.
Her own mother was gone so quickly that Kali did not get to say goodbye. Her grandfather right after, not sick she thought, but heartbroken. Grains rotted in the cellars, the apples turned black. There was never enough food now for the living. Her grandmother white faced, bone thin, braided her hair and hummed her to sleep endless night after endless night. They all wept and cold rain mingled with the tears on their faces and Kali dreamt of drowning. Much later, the few remaining of the Faa family would insist to her that Kali’s puridaia, her wise hard grandmother, had been amongst the first to die, not the last.
She sat in the cold sand, the incessant, drizzling rain soaking her hair, staring at the horizon for his sails. “Luca” she whispered hoarsely. “Come back to me.”
~ ~ ~
Kali sang her song and moved about the tavern collecting coins. The barkeep signaled her to pick up the heavy tray he’d just loaded. Kali swallowed hard -- the smell of trolls hung in her nostrils, the tails of ratonga flicked around her ankles. But she listened for word of who had docked that day. All winter in Freeport she’d worked for food and the dock news. Now, near the winter solstice, her cheeks stiff with cold and her arms aching from the trays, she heard his laugh before she even saw him. Heading for the prized table near the fireplace, his arm slung around a beautiful Tier’Dal, his lips nuzzling her neck—her Luca.
Kali whirled around furiously, a storm of flying skirts and red hair and sent a china cup whizzing past Luca’s ear where it shattered against the swinging lantern.
“So .. you make sport while I wait for you. Faithless, whorin’ pirate," she shrieked. Kali jumped over the legs of the patrons between her and Luca and grabbed a handful of his fine white shirt front in her small fist. “I will not be trifled with Luca St. John.” Her fingertips tingling dangerously, she cared not who heard her. “I will turn your sorry pirate hide into a troll and leave you under the nearest wet bridge.”
Since her fledgling mage skills were no where strong enough for such a spell, that particular threat drew boisterous laughs from the nearest tables. Luca looked momentarily stunned and let go of the dark elf. In a fury Kali cast a burning spell on a hapless field mouse nosing along the window sill. Her finger tips tingling and nearly blue with her rage, the mouse fell in a black cinder. Kali looked down and saw Luca’s grinning head in it’s place.
The barkeep slammed a tankard down. “Do summit wit her before I do, jackass pirate.”
Breathless now Kali backed up to the tavern door, green eyes snapping fire like the summer lightening. Luca bounded off the chair, shaking broken china off his back. Crushing Kali to him he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Kali, Kali love, let me explain.” He looked over his shoulder at the drunk patrons who jeered and pounded on the tables at the unexpected floor show.
“Apparently she has missed me.” he shouted to the drunken audience. He whispered to her urgently. “Come with me.” With an apologetic grin and a shrug for the Tier’Dal he half carried, half pushed Kali out of the tavern.
Luca, his arms clamped over Kali’s hustled her against the tavern’s stone walls, pleading in a hoarse whisper. “Let me explain. Where’s your room. Kali, listen to me … “ he shook her shoulders roughly, stopping her tearful, insensible tirade “ … your room ?” Luca looked over his shoulder. No one had followed them out. Kali, weak kneed with a storm of desire and rage and relief, mumbled “cellar” to him.
In the tiny room off the wine cellar Luca lit a sputtering candle. Kali stared at him from her makeshift bed, her face streaked with tears. The thick walls of the tavern kept the temperature steady down here and with a small fire in the grate it was comfortable enough.
Looking around Luca cringed at the thought of his beautiful gypsy living her days in this cell. He knelt at her side. “Kali, I heard about the Black Sickness and I tried to find word of you. It never occurred to me you were here in Freeport.”
Tears flooded her eyes at the sound of his voice. For months she had dreamt of finding him.
Luca had the grace to look embarrassed. “The Tier’Dal. She’s an insider in Vendrian’s household. I need her knowledge.”
Kali started at the name of the powerful Shadow Knight. “You are in league with Vendrian ?” Her mouth was dry with sudden fear. She stared at Luca as if he were unknown to her.
“I did … a difficult run for him to the Reef of Tears. It is a way for me to get my own ship, Kali.”
Kali shook her head impatiently. “He will never give you a ship Luca. You will be his toady.”
He shook his head impatiently. “The next run, half the crew at least is sworn to me. After the cargo pick up I will take control of it. Kill the ones who won’t sail for me.”
“You think to stage a mutiny on Vendrian’s ship, steal his cargo and live another day, Luca ?” Kali’s voice shook.
“I will need to pick you up somewhere now.” Luca ignored her summary and rubbed his eyes. “I must think how to do that.”
Luca took Kali’s cold fingers and brought them to his mouth, his warm breath bringing feeling back to them. He kissed the palms, cringing at the calluses. All night as the moon made it’s circuit of the sky, they did a dance of lovers torn apart and reunited. Together they mimed a good bye to the life they had known. Kali stared at his face, memorizing every angle of it. Her mouth recalled the taste of his skin. Luca’s fingers traced forgotten muscle and bone, learning the map of Kali’s body again. Tears mixed with sighs. Muffled moans of heartbreak and desire against coarse linen and anger melted into remorse.
While he slept on her bed, Kali sat with her tea cup on the floor, staring at the leaves, as close to the fire as she could be without burning her shift. It was clear enough. No matter how many times she looked at the cup, it was foretold. So even then, the revenge was blooming in her heart and she started plotting how to avenge his eventual loss. And Luca slept deeply, dreaming of green meadows where Kali’s song mingled with the hoot of owls.
~~
Luca slipped back into her room in the morning with bread and cheese. “They are calling me ‘Teacup St. John’ down at the docks now,” he said ruefully, handing her the food. Kali flushed.
“You’ve a wicked throwing arm, Kali.” He stuffed his mouth with bread. “I spoke with Canta. You will meet him tomorrow morning before I sail. He will be my first mate once we take the ship. He will come for you here.” Luca pushed a hastily scribbled map in front of her. A good day’s walk down the coast. “You can do that right?” Luca peered at her white and silent face.
“Yes Luca, I can do it.”
“Eight moons from now, Kali. Then start walking.”
~~
It was the barbarian Canta who found her in the cellar, but only four days later. “He is dead,” he said gently, but plainly. His own face mottled with bruises, a large gash on his shoulder. He handed her Luca's dagger, smears of blood on it.
"Who's blood," she wondered. Kali would not weep before this stranger. “Get out,” she said only, her lips stiff. She pounded the stone walls until her hands bled.
~~
It was no great trick to be invisible in Freeport. You did not need a powerful potion or the wizard’s spell. You need only be a low-born female ------ serving girl, seamstress, tavern wench or whore. Young ones to old crones, they stepped over swords to serve drinks without getting a second look, knelt at the feet of powerful knights who never asked their names. They carried the trays, made the fires, satisfied the lust. And no male in this forsaken place feared dying at the hands of one of these invisible women.
Fools.
Kali brushed her hair with a vengeance, eyes hard and glittering in the sputtering candlelight. She chose her costume carefully. She needed to blend in with the stream of daily workers to the Shadow Knight’s keep, but catch his eye during dinner. She settled finally on covering her flaming hair with a scarf which she could pull off once he was settled in front of his fire, half drunk and looking for amusement. Her blood ran cold at the thought of him on top of her. She steeled herself. He would get nothing of her for the use of her body, not touch one particle of her real self. She could do this. Luca, she cried out from her soul.
She sold nearly all they had left, including the pretty box and belt he had gifted her with before they separated so long ago. Her heart would not allow her to part with the bracelet, but she included his dagger for the pawnbroker, to get the gold piece she needed for the poison. Hands shaking, fearing the ratonga alchemist would as soon kill her and take her gold, she’d finished the transaction and ran to her cellar room with fear a bitter metallic in her mouth. She’d given Luca’s last silver coin to Dalendriel, to have her place at the serving table. “You must never come back here after me,” she’d whispered to the girl who nodded in gratitude for the coin.
She carried trays all night to his table. In her pocket the tiny vial of poison felt as heavy as an anchor. Vendrian roared with laughter and sang bawdy songs with his inner circle. He was a piece of granite -- hard muscled, white haired, eyes so pale blue as to be colorless. She shivered in his gaze. She brought tray after tray of wine. Brushed his fingers as she handed him the goblets. He stared at her, her hair on fire with reflected torchlight. She restrained herself from dosing his wine in the kitchen. He must be in his bed, a whole night undetected to give her time to slip away. Her hands were like ice but not shaking. Her green eyes flat and unreflecting, like the sea before the worst storms of summer. And he followed every step she made in the room without missing a beat of the conversation around him.
The Tier’Dal watched Kali from one of the shadowed archways that ringed the dining room. She smiled then thinking how easy it was to make the humans do her bidding. Her plans had unfolded like the red carpet rolling down the aisles of the center hall. The hot headed young pirate had stepped into her trap so easily she had not lost a night’s sleep in the execution of that part of the plan. She had the loot from that ship and it in her command within hours of Vendrian hearing of the mutiny. Now his lover would kill Vendrian for her and she would step into the vacuum of power, no one the wiser that she’d made the space for herself.
She slipped her hands impatiently through her silver hair. The ratonga had told her Kali had purchased the necessary vial of poison. Would the gypsy girl lose heart now ? She had the look of murder in her eye the Tier’Dal thought watching her closely. Vendrian, like most men, too captivated to see the hate that smoked behind those green eyes whenever the girl leaned over him. Well no doubt he deserved to die, but the gypsy would kill him for the wrong reason. Her dusky blue lips curved in a smile.
She had thought Kali would have dosed his wine by now though, hastening the death that she likely had little stomach for anyway. The dark elf was impressed, despite herself, that Kali had the presence of mind to wait. Going undetected would be greatly enhanced by waiting until later, but she was surprised Kali had the nerve to postpone it this long. And the gypsy was gambling that she would be summoned to his bedchamber. The elf shifted against the column. She wondered if Kali knew that she herself was his favorite consort ? Her mind calculated every possible move from this point. Every possible outcome. Every looming disaster. Every potential victory. In the end, Vendrian must be dead tonight. Perhaps it was unwise to wait for the redhead to do it for her.
Kali opened the bed chamber door, her heart racing, face white as the snow on the distant mountains. She stopped cold, the tray rattling in her stiff hands. Vendrian lay face down in his bed, partially covered by the blankets, one arm hanging over the side. A Tier’Dal stood at the bedside, gorgeously but scantily robed and looking at the Shadow Knight impassively. Kali started as she recognized the dark elf that had been in Luca’s company in the tavern. The glasses on the tray chattered as her hands shook and she set it down on a chair.
The Tier’Dal spoke without looking up from Vendrian’s body. “I could not wait for you to do it. Although I think now you would have, aye ?” She added softly, raising her pale eyes to Kali.
Kali could see Vendrian’s extremities were already blue, no sound of breath from a man who otherwise would have been in a snoring, drunken stupor. “Aye, I would have.” Kali answered her icily. The tiny vial of poison was swinging in her skirt pocket still.
The Tier’Dal looked at Kali for a long moment and then down at Vendrian. A gold bracelet slipped down on his knuckles. Fine heavy gold, in a rope pattern. She pulled it off his cold hand and tossed it to Kali who caught it instinctively. “For the head of your pirate.” She pulled her robe tighter about her and looked away for a minute. “Cover your hair with your scarf and leave here now. Never come back.”
Kali kept walking out of Freeport, to the river, then following the stars, numb to the cold and the deed she’d nearly done. You could not be unchanged by the taking of a life. Or the planning of it. Kali thought she heard the whispers of her mother in the clattering gray branches in the woods.
Near daylight she came to the small caravan of the Djara familia. They fed her and chalked a map on a piece of leather. ‘You cannot stay with us, get further away. At this harbor town, ask for the Faullen," they advised. Kali nodded, numb beyond caring. She slept by their fire all that day while their jeweler cut a piece from the Shadow Knight’s bracelet and then rejoined it to make it her size. Gratefully Kali gave them the sizable lump of leftover gold with her blessing for their help. A satchel of food, a warm green blanket for her shoulders, new boots with a small dirk tucked in.
She walked another night and then another, sleeping by day in the weak winter sun or inside lonely barns. She could not remember the words to any song to lighten her walk, nor turn her face to any god for solace. But the days grew warmer and Winter loosed it’s grip. She stayed in small villages, while the block of ice around her heart melted in tiny drips. In her dreams a dark haired beauty smiled and beckoned to her. “Hurry Kali, hurry to us.”
Three braclets jingled on her arm. Her birthright, her first love, her taste of revenge.