Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [78]
"Leave it alone," one of the men said.
"To hell with you," Aysel spat. "That there's meat on the hoof, way I look at it."
The thought almost turned Jherek's already feverish stomach.
Aysel swung the dagger, but the rat hopped to another bar and avoided the blow. Instead of running, it stuck its nose down to the bar and walked along its length in agitation.
A chill touched Jherek as he realized what must be going on. Fighting the weakness and the fever that clung to him, he pushed himself to his feet and slammed into Aysel as the man prepared to strike again.
Aysel fell off-balance and started cursing. He pushed against the wall and came back at Jherek with the small knife clenched in his fist.
Jherek blocked the blow. "Don't! You don't understand."
"I understand plenty!" Roaring in rage, Aysel tried another blow, this one coming from underneath.
Jherek stepped outside the blow and slapped Aysel's hand away. From the corner of his eye, he spotted one of the pirates approaching the hold. The man had a cutlass in his hand. When he spotted the rat, the pirate swung the blade.
"Jump!" Jherek said.
The rat flung itself from the iron bar, dropping into the brig. The pirate's sword knocked sparks from the iron. Reaching out, Jherek caught the rat in his arms.
The pirate leered down into the hold. "See you bastards are keeping proper company, ain't you?" He cackled at his own joke and walked away.
Aysel came at Jherek again, but Captain Tynnel caught the man roughly by the neck and yanked him off his feet. Aysel fell against the wall, squalling in anger.
"Don't move," Tynnel ordered Aysel.
"Bastard took my rat," Aysel said.
"That's no rat," Tynnel said calmly.
In the next instant, Jherek had both arms full of lithe feminine flesh.
XIII
7 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet
"Leaving, are ye? And just like that? With no fare-the-well?"
Pacys looked up from securing his backpack and saw Khlinat standing in the doorway. The dwarf had been generous enough to loan him the couch while they searched for the boy. The old bard had put the bedding away and packed his things. "Yes. I was going to leave a note."
Khlinat's eyebrows climbed. "Oh, and ye are in a hurry too."
"Yes."
"Do ye know where the swabbie is?"
"No, but I've found out where I'm supposed to be," Pacys replied. He pulled the backpack up and settled the straps over his shoulders. "I have to trust that our paths will intersect again as they're supposed to."
"I've continued poking me nose into places around the city, but I've yet to find a solid lead."
Pacys shook his head. Music raced through his mind again, traveling chords. "I don't think you will. However he got out of the city, he's not here any longer."
"Aye, and I know that's true enough." He looked troubled. "Where are ye off to?"
"I don't know. While I was at the church, I got a vision. It told me where to go, but not where I'd be going. I guess I'm supposed to figure that out after I get there."
"Ye make this sound mysterious."
"The gods do tend to move in that manner," Pacys said.
Khlinat ran a hand through his tangled beard. "Ye going to be all right on yer own?"
"I always have been." Pacys rummaged in his coin purse, trying not to notice how light it was for a man possibly traveling a great distance. "I know you've not been able to work at the shipyards since you've been injured. Let me pay you for letting me bed here."
"Faugh, and that would be a laugh. Don't think yerself so high and mighty, old bard. I'm a steady working man and no traveler from place to place depending on the generosity of strangers. I've got silver enough to do me awhile."
Pacys closed his purse, knowing it would be better to keep his meager coin as long as he could. As long as he stayed within a civilized