Smoke and Iron

Chapter 5-Deals and Tales

                                       Tara

The moment he turns his head to gaze at the slice in his arm, his face changes from anger to shock. The sound of boots snaps me out of my daze, the footfalls getting closer by the second. His eyes return to mine, fear now evident on his face. I let out a sigh preparing for what I would have to do to save this blueblood's skin.

"You're not gonna like this, but if you don't do it you will be a dead man," I whisper, my voice low and serious. 

Without waiting for a reply I push him, his hold made loose by both shock and fear. Pinning his back to the wall, my right hand covering the sliced fabric and my other against his cheek. As if sensing my next move he pulls me by the waist and presses his lips against mine. 

His lips taste of bitter ale and sweet caramel. I move in closer to conceal the knife at his side and mine next to his feet. The owners of the boots pass us, thankfully only hooting at our display as they go by. 

Though if they had seen us earlier with his knife pressed to my throat. Sleeve ripped revealing a mark that could get him held for ransom or worse. They would be baying for his blood and then the Guard would descend on us like a plague.

As the doors slam shut I push away. Heart beating, and face flushed I can't seem to look away from him. His ice blue eyes peer at me with a mixture of bared anger and wary gratitude. His ruffled black hair blown by the breeze draws my attention to the rest of him. 

A straight nose broken at least once rests between his eyes set in a sharp face. Tan cheeks pink from the cold both bear small nicks and scratches. His chin is marked by a thin white scar that stands out beneath the lantern light. His body is nothing but lean muscle. Reminding me of a wolf, one built for hunting in the dark of night.

"I believe I am at your mercy thief," his voice calm and resigned. He chuckles dark and low and leans his head back to gaze at the cloud speckled night.

"Of course I had this coming. I knew one day my luck would run out. Though I expected to be revealed by a room of brawlers. Not be ousted after being robbed." 

He returns his gaze to me waiting and expectant. The request for my silence does not need to be told. His eyes speak for themselves. Eyes filled with resolve and acceptance, the fear now gone from them. My mouth spreads into a wide grin. Reaching into my blouse I take out the pendant I took. 

Those same blue eyes track my movements making the hairs of my arms stand on end. I toss the pendant to him, the metal shining as it flies through the air. Catching it he raises one eyebrow in question.

"I know that you must have items worth more than that. It would be unreasonable for me to keep it. When there are far more priceless things to be had," I say. 

Stepping closer little by little with each word. Resting my hand on his shoulder I whisper into his ear.

"Don't you agree, Your Highness," my lips close to the shell of his ear.

The touch of my breath causes him to stiffen and his mouth sets into a grim line. Removing himself from my grasp he steps back sheathing his knife back into his belt.

"I do, now what will keep you from telling your friends about me I wonder." His voice now filled with curiosity and contempt.

After seeing the mark my mind has been searching for the one thing that only he could get. Something more valuable than all the coins, jewels, and objects that the king owns.Crossing my arms I lean against the wall. The wood rough through the cloth of my blouse. I return his gaze showing teeth as I smile.

"An obsidian dagger should be the perfect price for such a favor," I say.

His eyes harden at that, how could they not. As I had just asked for a very rare and coveted weapon. One that only royalty may have or bestow. Oh how it must make him squirm to think of giving me such a thing. Unfortunately for him he doesn't have a choice.

"When must I have it ready for you," he says.

"Three days," I drawl, "that should be enough time for you to acquire it. But I warn you if you fail to bring it to me my lips will become loose. And all of Tarvos will hear of a particular blue blood slumming it in the most unseemly of places."

With his hand resting on the hilt of his knife, thumb stroking the leather of his sheath. He begins to pace back and forth in front of me. Slow measured steps upon the cracked stones. I can tell that his mind is turning like the gears of a clock. Carefully taking in what I have said and picking it apart. Word by word and threat by threat.He comes to a stop in front of me. Eyes now assessing every part of my face. Looking for a weakness or a flare of emotion. I give him none.

"And if you fail on your end," he says, " what will happen to you I wonder."

I huff a laugh at that. Mostly at myself thinking he would forget about that detail. But today has been full of surprises to my dismay.

"Anything you want," I say, voice filled with sarcasm. "Though I doubt that will ever happen."

He chuckles, eyeing my belt with its array of small metal discs and blades.

"But if you do," he says, "I think I will send a Reaper after you. As everyone here is so afraid of them that should be enough to keep those lips sealed shut."

My blood turns to ice. Now I've done it, now I have to worry about him sending out one of those creeps after me. Except I won't let him scare me that easily. Unlike me he hasn't had to face these streets and hasn't a clue how to navigate them. He is on my turf, my hunting ground. 

I push off the wall, my shoes tapping on the stone as I go towards him. I stop when we are mere inches apart. I stare into his eyes defiance filling my face. Silently telling him I won't be scared off or push around. 

"Then we have a deal," my voice sugar sweet. "Enjoy the rest of your night and make sure you and your friends are gone before midnight. That's when the real criminals come out to play."

I quickly turn away and head for the doors, picking up my daggers on the way. He doesn't follow me as I push them open and return again to the cacophony of the inn. I spy Darius in the corner sitting on a barrel. Circled by a mix of sailors, thugs, and girls alike. All raptured as they listen to our own personal story teller. With his gift for spinning tales from the legends of the seven kingdoms he has enthralled many a guard, pirate, and noble man.

Even us at the inn can barely turn away from his tales and his silken voice. Darius has a certain charm many of us wish to possess .With his amber eyes, dark skin, and raven colored hair he is as carefully crafted as his stories. I make my way to Gemma who has commandeered two chairs next to him. One for her and one for me. As she knows I can never pass up a good tale.

Tales that tell of frightening monsters and would be heroes. One of the few things that keeps us sane in this dangerous life that we lead. Every day spent watching our backs lest we be thrown into the many cells that the Silver Guard offers. As well as making our daily quota of  auquired goods for Miss Cole.

Settling down in the chair I glance around the room seeing that everyone is now sitting down. Recovering from the commencement of the night's celebration. After a while it will begin again going from a rumble to a roar all night. With Amelia playing a quiet tune on the piano. It allows Derrick to take a break at the bar and flirt with the crowd of girls that follow him. We can now wind down and listen as Darius begins one of my favorite stories.

"Now my friends, I have one last tale for you," he begins. We slowly lean in as he speaks. "One that the king can't stand to hear."

We all chuckle at that as King Renard's hatred for pirates and magic is known by all. His hatred runs so deep that all who practice magic must be employed by a merchant or risk imprisonment or the executioner's ax. Pirates on the other hand will be shot on site if they are found in Valdevian waters or on land. Unfortunately for him both parties are not very good with following rules. Quieting down we listen in rapture as he begins the story.

"Faraway across the Black Sea a month's journey at least. Lies the island kingdom of Sireen. An island many say that hides the source of all magic in the world. All rumors of course since none have been able to prove it. As the island is home to the pirates that roam the many oceans of Silva."

"Surrounded by many small islands of barren rock that from above look like dark wounds upon the sea. In the very center of the island it is said that the pirates built their fortress the Hydra's Keep. A fortress only accessible by boat and made of pure solid granite. Guarded day and night by these swashbuckling rouges it holds their vault of treasure. Treasure stolen from a thousand ships and worth more than all the gold in the king's treasury."

"Surrounding the walls of this mighty fortress are the hundreds of ships that guard the waters of the hidden bay. Not only do they guard the water but the air as well. Ships bigger than the tiny merchant gondolas manned by their air mages. With large sails and made of strong but weightless wood. Ships that need no mage to make them fly a secret that many have yet to uncover."

"All of this is controlled by their leader whose very name turns men's blood to ice. The dreaded Captain Ivena, The Pirate Queen of Sireen. Many merchant ships have fallen victim to her and her crew of Shifters. The menacing form of her ship The Phoenix strikes fear into the hearts of merchant crews. As it soars among the clouds it's copper sails snapping in the wind."

"No ship has ever escaped her grasp unscathed. Many missing a sail or mast and some sunk to the bottom of the sea. Even it's captain has left a mark on many a poor seafarer. All who have crossed her path have met the same fate. Fingers cut off or branded with iron. Many have been stabbed and slashed by her cutlass said to be made of pure sharpened silver. For ones that dare to betray her, they have been thrown off the ship and into the feeding grounds of hungry sharks."

"Her ruthlessness increasing with every passing day. I have heard tell that for many years she has been in search of something. Something more precious than gold and more valuable than jewels. A treasure that was stolen from her and lost at sea. No one knows what it is. It could be a map leading to the source of all magic. A rare crystal that sees the future or a mirror that reveals your true self.I even have proof of her all consuming search. Proof of how desperate she is to get it back."

Darius reaches into a hidden pocket in the folds of his shirt. He takes the tattered and creased piece of paper and hands it to the person next to him. Slowly the paper goes around the circle. Everyone's face turns from skeptical to intrigued. Their reactions make my fingers twitch with the need to hold the source of their curious gazes. When it reaches me I hold it between me and Gemma reading the contents of the water stained vellum. The symbol of a Phoenix is stamped above the ink black letters.

One million Gold pieces for the 

Queen's Treasure and it's return

A Treasure that cannot be named

Its identity is found in this poem

What is part of my body but on its own

A piece of my heart all alone

The greatest gift that one could have

That gladly gives its love back

When I finish reading I glance at Gemma her lips pursed in concentration. She shakes her head and passes it to the next person. The paper slowly makes it way back to Darius. When he receives it he carefully folds it back up and into his shirt. A smug grin paints his dark face. Amber eyes alight with laughter, for who could ever love such a bloodthirsty pirate like Captain Ivena.

"So my friends," he says, "you see what I tell you is true. Somewhere above the clouds the pirate queen herself searches for this treasure. Pirates and plunderers alike are scouring the globe for it. All wanting to find it and be rewarded with enough gold to fill their ships. Even the king is after this mysterious treasure."

"I have heard while walking the docks that the ships in the king's navy are being sent out in droves as we speak to find it. A race rumored to soon reach our very port. As the Phoenix has been spotted sailing near the White cliffs. A three days journey from here by ship."

"A storm of trouble now brews. A storm that will bring some fun into our dreary lives. Now my friends I must leave you for the sound of rolling dice calls my name." 

With that Darius makes his way to the gaming tables. The gathered crowd spreads out to enjoy the other delights that the inn has to offer. I grab Gemma's hand and head over to one of the large round tables. Where Erick is currently arm wrestling another bloke hoping to win against Miss Cole's strongest thief. This time it's one of The Blades, a gang known for their tough fighters and skin cutting knives.

His opponent is ripped with muscle and covered in tattoos depicting skulls, knives and swords. A man who towers over Erik's lean muscular form. At first glance Erick does not look like much. With his curly red hair and fine features many would question his ability. That is until they see the many jagged scars that mar his pale arms. 

Even his back is not undamage with one long scar that branches out into the shape of a bolt of lightning. Edged into his flesh by a madman who had gone on a murder spree after escaping from the castle dungeon. Erick's parents were killed that night and he was left for dead. Until Miss Cole found him wandering the streets and for the past ten years he has been here. Amongst our motley crew of orphans and lost souls.

They both strain against each other, hands clasped together in a crushing grip. Onlookers shout out encouragement and Mark, ever the opportunist, is taking bets. His eyes glittering as he counts the piles of copper and silver coins organized in neat rows on the table. Back and forth like a pendulum their joined hands move. Neither caving into defeat both with matching looks of determination and fierce concentration painted on their faces. 

Erick shows no hint of tiring while the Blade is now drenched in sweat. The exhaustion and tension on his face increases with every passing second. He could just get it over and done with but knowing Erick he likes to toy with his opponents. A fact that they don't realize until it's too late.

Without warning he slams the blade's hand onto the table. A mighty thunk of flesh against the hardwood. Shouts of victory and groans of dismay erupt, followed by the clink of coins filling pockets. With the crowd parting Gemma and I go to congratulate our victorious friend. In one fluid motion Gemma wraps her arms around Erick's shoulders with her knees balanced on the bench.

"And how does our undefeated champion fare," she says. Whilst running her ringed fingers through his hair.

"Much better than that Blade, though I thought he would last longer," he replies with a chuckle.

"But then we wouldn't have made such a killing," Mark proclaims flinging a leather pouch onto the table. 

The pouch smacks the table with a heavy thunk. Copper and silver coins spill onto the wood.

"Impressive," I say as I sit down on the bench. I lean back placing my hands on the bench and my feet on Erick's knee.

"I wonder how many will go home with lighter pockets tonight thanks to you two."

Mark turns to me with a knowing smirk on his face. 

"Oh just a few brainless fools and drunks that were so generous as to part with a few of their coins. No one that would have a problem or anything." 

We all chuckle at that Mark ever the little trickster has a way with parting men from their coin. A skill that has turned into a habit for him. Leading to trouble that has resulted in a few brawls that we had to drag him out of. Though we all do enjoy a good fight every now and then. 

As if on cue a snarling brute comes into my line of site. Clearly a fellow Blade to the one who just lost to Erick he strides up to us. Anger present on his scarred face he glances at each of us. His eyes stay on me and Gemma far longer than I like causing my fingers to twitch and draw his attention towards my belt and the serrated disks attached to it. Making his eyes widen with apprehension his hand reaches for the hilt of his own weapon.

"I don't want any trouble wench," he growls with a sneer. "Just the conniving swindler you have in your company."

"Swindler," Mark says, "I much prefer the term of businessman if you don't mind." 

Gathering the coins from the table placing them back into the pouch he stands next to me. The string of the pouch resting in grasp.

"I don't care what you're called," the man growls, "what I want is my money back and I will have it one way or another." 

With that he lunges at Mark but all he grabs is air as Mark sprints away through the crowded tavern. The room fills with laughter as Mark's slim from weaves through the onlookers and over benches, tables and chairs. His pursuer slowed by his larger size, desperately grabs for Mark's shirt only to have it escape his grasp. 

Their chase takes them up the stairs that lean against the front wall. With the disgruntled Blade gaining ground Mark leaps off the banister and flings himself onto a nearby rafter beam. I feel a small sudden gust of wind rush across my skin. I glance up at Mark only to see him give me a devious wink and a winning smile.

"You little weasel," the man bellows, "I will have your measly hide thrown to the dogs so help me."

"I'd like to see you try ya old codger," Mark replies with a laugh.

Face still blazing with fury and his prey out of reach he storms down the stairs and out the tavern doors. They slam with such force that I feel the floor shake beneath me. I hear one of the front windows shatter. My eyes move to see glass spray out on to the floor. People dart out of the path of splintering shards a few taking cover under nearby tables. 

No one moves, not even when the kitchen door slams open revealing a very enraged Miss Cole. Surveying the damage with a look of pure rage she motions for one of the door guards to come over. Arms crossed her gaze flicks towards the door. With a nod the guard goes out the door followed by the other. Off to teach the Blade what happens when you anger the crime lord of Thieves' Roost. Miss Cole's face relaxes, huffing a sigh she dusts of her hands taking stock of the silent room.

"Well now that that's taken care of someone get over here and clean this mess," she says.

Moving her gaze to the ceiling she spies Mark who even now is still counting his loot. Long pale fingers going over silver and copper coins in his grasp.

"And you, get down from there and go make yourself useful," she crows, sounding like a mother scolding a child.

Saluting her with two fingers he jumps down, catching himself on the old iron chandelier. His hands holding on to the metal while he dangles above the ground. Swinging his legs Mark lets go of the chandelier landing in a roll on the long table below him. When he comes to a stop he leaps to his feet and bows, ever the dramatic. Miss Cole rolls her eyes and heads back to the kitchen while the crowd claps at his little stunt. Leaping from the table Mark heads to the gaming tables to see what else he might score.

Out of the blue Jade appears and wraps her arm around my shoulders. 

"Hey Tara I got a question for you," her eyes flashing with mirth.

"What type of question," I ask teasingly.

"Oh nothing special really," she says while wrapping finger around a lock of hair.

"Just me wondering what you and that handsome lad were doing outside." She smiles in a knowing smirk.

I chuckle, "And which handsome lad would that be," I reply pretending to be bored while admiring my nails.

Bumping my shoulder she nods her head to the bar. The target of her gaze seated between two young men. One is tall and muscular like a giant, with blond hair worn long with three braids on one side of his head. Black beads shine in the braided strands under the light of the candles. The other with dark brown hair and tan skin has garnered the attention of Lark. Her hands run down his arms while she stares longingly at the bag tied to his belt.  

The one that Jade pointed out has his back turned towards us. Hunched over in the barstool while talking to his long haired friend. Wearing a shirt of dark blue with swirling designs edged in silver thread and black pants that hug his legs. A strip of black cloth is tied around one of the sleeves of his shirt. A sleeve that has undoubtedly been torn. I feel my lips part in a smile. 

The memory of our little duel rises to the front of my mind. The knowledge that he owes me a debt. A debt that he will pay handsomely to be rid of it. As if sensing my eyes on him he turns around in his chair, locking his gaze on me and Jade. The little princeling, my mind sings with glee. 

He looks at Jade, his face showing no emotion other than boredom. His eyes though are filled with calculation as if gaging to see if she is friend or foe. When he looks at me they change. He rakes his eyes across me, their blue depths unable to hide his buried hatred. I stare him down, the smile on my face now seductive and challenging. 

"Mm, mm, mm, what a man," I hear her say in appreciation.

"What did you do to him I wonder," she continues, eyebrows raised at me.

A rumble of laughter flows through my chest, making me chuckle with glee.

"I may have stolen a little trinket off of him, which ended in a fight of course. But don't worry I have my ways in turning the odds in my favor," I reply with a wink.

"Interesting," she says, "what did you do exactly."

Taking my feet off Erick's knee, I stand up from the bench. The cloth strips of my skirt swishing against my legs. 

"Nothing that I haven't done before," I say, making us both chuckle with mirth. 

I notice that the prince's eyes are still glaring at me. As if wanting to slit my throat right here and now. I could care less. I have been threatened by rival gangs, and Silver guardsmen my whole life. One measly prince is no threat to me. Unless he follows in on his own threat to sick one of those Reapers after me. Then I would be in for it. 

Without a second thought I return his gaze in a challenge. Placing my fingers on my lips I blow him a quick kiss. Making his cheeks turn red and causing his friend to laugh. Before I can continue torturing him though, the glint of steel flashes in the corner of my vision.

In one swift motion I turn and draw my daggers from the sheathes hidden beneath my sleeves. I raise them just in time, blocking the sword aimed right at my head. Turning my gaze from the sword now locked between my daggers, I look up at my would-be killer. 

Dressed in leather pants, boots, and jacket. Reeking of sweat and opium, with metal rings pierced into his ears and nose. Is the pale skinny form of Dren Denan leader of The Serpents a gang in possession of the biggest illegal drug trade in Valdev. A man who thinks he can have anything he wants and to my dismay including me.

"You're getting sloppy Dren, you might wanna lay off the drugs," I say.

"Shut your mouth," he growls,  gray eyes flashing with rage.

"I have been patient long enough, and that patience is running thin. Either you give me what is mine or I can kill you where you stand."

Chuckling I reply, "I am not yours you snake and I never will be. Now be a good boy and go back to your hole or I will be the one doing the killing."

With that I let go of the sword and twist out of his reach. People move out of the way as we circle one another. I notice that Dren's followers are at the front of the crowd behind him. All draped in leather like their leader with tattoos of snakes and serpents inked on their skin. 

Dren holds his sword in a bone crunching grip, the weapon made from black iron now pointed at me. Ready to sink into my flesh. With my daggers at my side, I keep my eyes on him, waiting for him to strike. I don't have to wait long. 

He lunges and sweeps his sword towards my legs. I jump, flipping myself onto a table I fling a dagger at him. I send it flying towards him, the metal slicing into the shoulder of his jacket. It goes through the jacket and his shirt grazing the top of his shoulder in the process. The force of it makes him fall onto his back with the dagger pinning him to the floor. 

Growling he grabs the dagger and pulls it out revealing blood that glistens on the blade. Standing up he tosses the dagger on the floor and charges me. Dren swings his sword up in an ark aiming straight for my head. I dodge in the nick of time, the metal slicing into the table where I had been just a split second ago.

Jumping off the table I duck into a roll, my head barely avoiding being cut off as Dren swings his blade. I come up behind so fast he doesn't even react when I hit his skull with the hilt of my dagger. 

Crying out in pain he falls to his knees, sword clattering beside him. One of his goons lunges towards me with a knife. I dodge away from his attack. But not fast enough, as his blade grazes my shoulder. Cutting into my blouse and my skin. 

 His body breezes past, crashing into two men behind me.

With that the whole room erupts into chaos. The Serpent's go to grab their leader and to save their friend from the men he rammed into. Their friends also come to help them resulting in broken chairs and people crashing into tables. Everyone either runs out the doors or heads into the fray. 

Screaming, cursing and the sound of breaking glass fills the air. Usually I would head for the balcony and watch the spectacle unfold, but I can't do that now. Not with King Renard's son at the risk of being trampled or even killed, and if he does I won't get my payment.