Dragon-Ridden (6 page)

She didn’t say anything, already
absorbed in the trinkets before her. Most of it was junk, just twisted metal
with strange markings on it. Her eye was drawn to a small rectangular piece, no
bigger than her palm. It was crusted with dirt, but its surface was smooth with
white shapes imprinted on it. She ran a finger over one of the shapes thinking
it was ink or paint and felt it give slightly under her touch. She recognized
it or at least thought she did.

“How much?” she asked impulsively.
She had to have it.

“Excuse us?” Danny took hold of her
arm and dragged her a fair distance from the stall. She stumbled after him as
irritation bubbled inside. “What are you doing?” he finally asked.

“What business is it of yours?” she
asked arching an eyebrow and yanking her elbow from his grip.

“For starters, real relic hunters
don’t sell their wares at an open market,” he hissed. “There’s a reason for
that. The ancients left behind some very dangerous things that tend to hurt
those curious and stupid enough to acquire them. What he is selling are either
knockoffs or dangerous. Perhaps both. Either way, you don’t want what he’s
selling.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “I know
they’re not real.”

He stopped. He hadn’t expected that
response, simply assuming she was one of those obsessed with the ancients.
Danny stared down at her in puzzlement. “You do? Then why-?”

“It reminded me of something from
my past,” she mumbled. Her cheeks burned under his sympathetic gaze. Most of
the Marauder’s crew didn’t know much about her. They’d found her wandering on
an isolated spit of land. She learned incredibly fast and most had forgotten or
didn’t realize how lost and out of place she really was.

The theories of her origin and
history had amused them for a time but were just that. Theories.

Many nights while in her hammock,
she’d listened to the waves lap against the hull and to the men discussing her
possibilities. They covered everything from being marooned during a shipwreck,
to being a lost heiress, to being one of the odd races that abounded on the
outer edge of the empire.

Danny settled his hands on her
shoulders and bent to stare her in the eye. “I don’t know what you’re looking
for, but I know that nothing on that table can help you find it.”

She bit back the reply that sprung
to her lips. She wanted to rail against him, tell him it wasn’t any of his
business and get the trinket anyway. Stubborn, she held his eyes with hers.
What she saw there made her back down, and her shoulders slumped. They spoke of
kindness and a caring that had been missing for as long as she could remember.

Danny took off again, his long
strides forcing Tate to half run to keep up. People got out of his way when
they saw his expression, and Tate trailed in his wake. He barely noticed when
she stopped, and spun around to see her standing stock still in the middle of
the road staring at something to her right.

Her attention was focused on a
familiar trio checking out the wares at one of the blacksmith’s stalls. Weapons
hung on displays and were carefully laid out on tables.

It was the trio from the Crow’s
Nest. Tate struggled to remember what they were called. The Keyline. Kayi. No,
the Kairi.

She moved closer. She hadn’t gotten
a chance to meet them and now seemed like a perfect opportunity.

Just as she was about to make her
move, the two troublemakers she’d seen earlier came into view. She watched as
the smaller one, who she mentally dubbed as Bones, sauntered past the
strangers. He subtly checked them out from the corner of his eye and signaled
his companion. The second boy, who she referred to as Dewdrop because of his
fresh baby face, walked past a good minute after he did.

They reminded Tate of shark
circling their prey. Dimly, she was aware of Danny following her as she drifted
closer.

She snorted when Bones pretended to
examine the wares at a stall next to the Kairi while Dewdrop bent to fuss with
his shoes. So obvious. No doubt their marks would guess what they were up to
any moment now.

Bones flicked his fingers at
Dewdrop as the Kairi began to move. Dewdrop stood and stumbled into the path of
the woman whose guards snapped into action, jerking him off his feet and away
from the woman.

Guess not. Tate didn’t bother
warning the Kairi. All she had to do was yell ‘thief.’ But that didn’t seem the
sporting thing to do, them being fellow criminals and all.

Bones used their distraction to
slip behind the female. While the three’s attention were focused on Dewdrop’s
profuse apologies, Bones snagged one of the lady’s ornaments from her hair and
dropped it into one of his pockets.

Tate ambled across the market
making sure to cross his path. She felt a bit of professional pride in his
work. It’d been a clean grab, even if the setup could be spotted from a mile
away.

She kept her head down and let some
of her hair slide forward to cover her eyes. When Bones’ muddy boots came into
view, she stumbled against him and mumbled an apology.

It was another three steps before
she looked down at the object in her hand. The ornament’s black wood was warm
against her hand, probably from the lady’s body heat. A single pearl bobbed
from a delicate chain attached at the top of the hair stick. Tate pulled it and
was only mildly surprised when it revealed a sharp little knife sheathed in the
black wood. Pretty, but deadly.

Tate’s lips pursed in a silent
whistle. The little bauble in her hand could feed a family for a week or defend
them from unwary thieves. No wonder Bones and Dewdrop had wanted to risk their
appendages for such a lovely prize.

The penalty for stealing in most
ports she’d stopped in was a three strikes you’re out sort of deal. For a first
offence you spent a night in jail and were branded with a line across your
wrist. Second offence meant a week in jail and three lashes from the whip and a
second line on your wrist. Third time you were caught, you lost the hand. Of
course if you stole from nobles, you could find yourself on the fast track to
loosing that hand. Point in fact, the three noble looking victims her pickpockets
had just robbed.

If Bones’ hadn’t just lifted the
bag she’d filled with rocks from her belt, she probably would have let him keep
his spoils. She’d stored the money in various places on her body while her
purse served as bait. She’d only needed her coins stolen once to get wise and
do as Jost did.

To be fair, she’d known the thief
couldn’t resist the temptation once she stumbled into him, but nor did she feel
guilty for giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Her lips twisted into an ugly smile.
No, it didn’t bother her at all that she’d set him up. She made it a personal
policy not to stand in anybody’s way if they wanted to hang themselves with the
rope she’d given them. What was hers wasn’t to be touched by anybody. Perhaps
next time he’d do a better job of sizing up his opponent.

Dewdrop hurried past her to rejoin
his fellow purse-snatcher. She turned to watch him, curious if Bones had
realized what she’d done. Pale gray eyes glared at her with rage. Her smile
became genuine, and she gave him a one-fingered salute before heading towards
the Kairi.

They hadn’t yet discovered the loss
and Tate almost continued past them. Some impulse had her tossing the hair
ornament to the female conversing quietly with the larger of her two guards.
His deep rumble nearly overwhelmed her lighter tones. It spun through the air
and was snagged in a move too quick to see as the younger guard grabbed it out
of the air before it could smack the female in the head.

“You might want to do a better job
of keeping track of your things,” Tate advised as she walked past.

There was the slightest rustle of
sound. Tate dropped face first to the ground, letting a blade pass an inch
above her head. The wind from the swing ruffled her hair. She hit the stone
with a thud and rolled into her assailant, sweeping his legs out from under
him. He fell as Tate continued to roll past him and onto her feet. He bounced
lithely back up before she could take advantage.

She arched one eyebrow. Fast. Very
fast.

The sound of a blade being drawn
and a presence at her back told her Danny had joined the fight. Good thing
that. While one might be doable, the second guard could attack while she was
preoccupied with the first. Tate held herself with her feet shoulder width
apart and her weight evenly distributed and kept her hands at her side relaxed.

“Now protocol usually confuses me
in most situations, but I believe most people would issue a thank you when
someone returns a lost item,” Tate said, evenly. “Am I wrong, Danny?”

“Nope, I’d have to say that’s the
response I usually get,” he said without taking his eyes from the other guard.

“Unless, of course, a blade in the
head is your culture’s idea of a thank you.” Tate didn’t wait for him to
respond. “I must say if that’s the case, you must have a lot of rude people
where you come from.”

“Why would we thank a thief?” the
man spat. His words were clipped and a little garbled, as if this wasn’t his
first language.

“Thief? Such language. I do believe
I’m insulted. We must have different definitions of the term thief. I would
define a thief as someone who steals an item with the intention of selling said
item and never returning it. You must define thief as someone who returns a
lost item out of the goodness of their heart with no intention of profiting from
it.” Tate shot him an appalled look. “How ever do you manage the culture shock
all your misunderstandings must cause?”

“There is no misunderstanding. You
stole it and only returned it as part of some hidden agenda.”

“Ah, I see. Now it’s going to be
paranoid accusations. I can play that game.” Tate deliberately relaxed her
stance and tapped her lips with her fingertips in thought. “Maybe you are
simply willing to say I am a thief so your mistress won’t notice how
incompetent her guards are. After all, if that little trinket was in her hair
that means the ‘thief’ had to be close enough to touch her to get at it. He
could just as well have put a knife in her while he was at it.”

This time Tate was ready for him as
he rushed her with an unnatural speed. His body was sinuous as it sprang at
her, the katana acting as an extension of his body as it arced down to where
Tate had been standing moments before. She slid just enough to the right that
the blade missed her by half a foot. Before he could change the angle of his
strike, she grabbed one of his outstretched arms, pulled just enough to upset
his balance and then kicked his feet out from under him. This time when he
fell, Tate fell with him, keeping her grip on his arm and twisting it behind
his back. She landed with one knee squarely on his back. She leveraged his arm
so he could feel the pressure as it rotated against the joint.

“Tsk, tsk. Letting your opponent
annoy you into attacking. That’s not what a good guard would have done. Now
look at your companion, he’s stepped away from Danny and closer to his charge.
He probably knows that if we’d had the intention of harming her we would have
distracted you and had a third come up behind as you were fighting us,” Tate
whispered into his ear. She released him and sprang to her feet, keeping a
slight distance from his prone figure. “Now, let’s try this again. I’ve
returned your ridiculously expensive hair ornament. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” the woman said. Her
voice flowed over the words. She too sounded like it wasn’t her first language,
but unlike her guard, she didn’t sound stifled or harsh.

“Ah. Finally someone with manners,”
Tate said.

She knew she was being
condescending and rude, but she just didn’t care. She hadn’t expected a thank
you, but getting attacked was a little unreasonable. That guard hadn’t even
stopped to think she might be innocent. She wasn’t, but that wasn’t the point.
She could have been.

If they greeted all outsiders with
this level of suspicion and violence, it was a wonder they were welcomed
anywhere outside their homeland.

Had Tate been a hair slower, her
head would have been separated from her shoulders. Such uncalled violence. She
tsked again.

The woman moved from behind her
other guard. He tensed and probably would have dragged her back behind him if
she hadn’t stopped him with a look.

Tate had thought the black eyes of
last night had been a trick of the light. It wasn’t. It was a little
disconcerting, for there was no way to tell where her pupils ended and the iris
began. Tate wondered if she could see well in the dark, or if she had the same
handicap as other people.

“You’ll have to forgive my guards.
They do not take surprises well and their preferred method of handling the
unexpected is with violence. I apologize if we caused you any discomfort.” The
lady bowed slightly at the waist.

Tate returned the bow and looked up
to see Danny staring at her strangely. He’d probably never seen her act so
polite. She shrugged in answer to his confusion. It had seemed like the thing
to do. Besides she was curious about them.

“My name is Umi. May I ask how you
came across my hair piece?” Umi’s expression was serene as if she was asking
about the weather.

Tate debated telling her the truth
or a lie. Although there was no real reason to conceal the truth, sometimes a
lie was so much more fun. She pursed her lips. In this case the truth might be
just as entertaining. “I took it off the real thief.”

The uproar Tate’s statement caused
was almost as much fun as knocking the guard, who Tate mentally referred to as
Tempest, on his ass. Several voices began speaking at once. Tate stood back to
watch and Danny sheathed his knives to take up a sentry position behind Tate.