Self-Made Scoundrel (10 page)

“You’re telling me you can’t recognize a girl at work still? All women are gilded in your eyes, aren’t they?” The woman laughed again, the pleasant sound almost drowned out by some ruckus at one of the tables at the bar. Derk pulled a face meant to look insulted but only made her laugh at him more, causing him sit up straighter on his stool.

“I don’t see anything wrong with thinking highly of anyone-”

“Whose got a pair above instead of below?” Celeel laughed again. “Who knew fappers could be so genteel?” She looked at him over the edge of her mug as she drank, and he saw the smile in her eyes. Laughing at him. As well she should. Still, an accusation had been made and he had to address it.

“I’m no fapper, Gam, and what’s wrong with keeping my boots clean and combing my hair? And offering a lady a compliment?” He didn’t like being called self-centered, or made fun of for having manners. Derk didn’t feel like he was more selfish than many of those he had come across in his few moons on the streets. He still ran the same games, slept in the same doorways they did, pulled in about the same amount of coin. He shared when he had made a few grips more than normal.

For the most part Derk had taken to this life quickly. It didn’t give people time to adjust. It swallowed people up and they either came out on the other end intact or as shit. Some of the people seemed to wear their ignorance as a kind of badge, an excuse for why they did the things they did, and he thought it was rubbish. Celeel was like him. They stole not for survival, though they did take things to pay for food and other necessities. They felt themselves when sneaking about, sizing up a quarry and coming back with a little more than they had gone in with. It came naturally and they had embraced it. He peered over her shoulder, taking survey of the commotion at the table which would probably come to blows sooner than later. Derk fixed his eyes back on Old Gam when he had decided they were safe for now. “Besides, you’ve missed the point of my story entirely. I thought women were supposed to be sensitive to people’s hurts.”

“You ain’t hurt, just sore that woman would have charged you for a throw.”

“That’s not it! I told you, I thought she was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen and I told her so-”

“Am I to sit here, having you basically insult me?”

“You’ll sit there as long as I buy you drinks, Gam, and listen, for the love of tits.” Derk huffed, taking a gulp of his drink. “I talked with this girl for almost half a watch, I said all manners of kind things to her, things I thought true. I’d seen her sing at Half Masts and thought she was a wonderful singer. And all she wants to do is sell her body for coin? With a voice like that? It ain’t right!”

“Listen to you, saying ‘ain’t.’ Ain’t he clever?” Old Gam cackled

“Don’t start with this, don’t, or the drinks will stop.” Derk threatened with a raise of his eyebrows, hoping to evoke a bit of concern from his friend. Instead she smirked and cocked her head, looking him over.

“I’ve never met one like you,” she said, laughing again, nursing her beer. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, signaling to the tender she’d be needing another drink soon. “Saying brass ain’t right. Maybe she likes having multiple callers and likes making money off of it. The demand’s there.”

“Multi-” The word stuck in his throat and he took a gulp of beer to clear it, raising the tankard up as he spoke for emphasis. “Maybe she does, but maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she can’t find no other work. And asides, people, men, women, should have one partner at a time. One to one is proper.”

“Proper?” The barkeep set another mug of beer in front of Celeel, turning his attention back to other patrons, ignoring the fact she was choking on her last gulp of beer and her chuckles. “Proper? Where’ve you picked up this notion? It’s so…even the Goddess takes on as she pleases. What an old-fashioned fellow you are!”

“I don’t know,” he said, tilting his glass to look down into it, noting the noise had grown louder and the banter more violent than jovial.

He supposed he had picked it up from his father. For all his faults, or maybe included among them, he was faithful to his partners. Darix Cartaskin could never be accused of sharing a bed with anyone other than his wives. Even after Derk’s mother had died, he spurned female callers and only took Gela into his bed once the vows had been spoken. Other men, other Barons had their ‘sometimes’ women but his father never did. His father…Derk drained his tankard and set it on the bar, leaning toward Celeel with half-open eyes, smiling slightly. “I’m just a poor, old-fashioned man, aren’t I? Endearing, isn’t it?”

“Are you poor, now? How are you affording these drinks?” she asked, finishing hers quickly and asking the bartender for another with a hand signal. “Now you can find someone you love, you don’t have to pay, your ‘one to one’ and do things…properly.”

“Or improperly, as the case may be,” he said, leaning in a bit closer to her. She was still pretty, he thought to himself. The time they spent in the bar together, no other woman had caught his eye but Old Gam, Celeel. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, her ready smile and how she spoke both plainly and jesting at the same time…was she drunk? He was surprised to see she leaned in as much as he was, a curl falling past her ear. Was she biting the inside of her lip? Was she in fact drunk? Derk leaned in closer, the blood pounding in his ears as her mouth came close to him. They’d kissed before, more than kissed. It didn’t mean his heart didn’t beat faster when she drew closer to him.

“Improperly, you say…?” Her breath was warm and she smelled the way women always did to him, warm and inviting. He breathed in Gam’s distinct scent of honey which seemed very fitting. Derk placed a hand on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze as he leaned in closer. He actually had something to say, quite good and clever. He brushed the curl off her face, tucking it behind her ear and let his hand linger on her cheek, which was soft and warm. He would have told her what he had in mind and kissed her, but instead he shoved her back forcefully.

Out of nowhere a large man came hurtling toward them. He slammed violently into the bar, gasping as wood and bone collided. Derk fell backwards off his stool, his head missing a table corner by a mere finger’s width. The man who was pushed into the bar roared. He picked up the nearest object, their half-filled glasses. With a scream he charged his attacker, cracking both mugs over the man’s skull. Derk winced as the ceramic shattered. Bright red blood bubbled up over the man’s eye but he somehow shook off the blow. He unleashed a punch sending the other man spinning away like a drunken dancer.

“Hems!” Derk swore, ducking under a table as three more men joined in the fight. Apparently, it was to be four against one, with the fellow who was bleeding fighting by himself. He searched around for Gam, only able to see sets of legs and skirts rushing for the exit. A scream from the corner drew Derk’s attention away from a possible escape. He dived under another table to shield himself from the action so he could see where the scream came from.

A young woman with gloves on her hands stood in the corner. The right sleeve of her dress was torn so her shoulder was exposed. She twisted her hands together, her mouth moving but no audible words slipping from her lips. Her strange green eyes sparkled with fear, and she looked around the bar as if to ask for help.

“You can cheat me out of my money! You can insult me,” the young man with the bleeding scalp shouted. He broke off the leg of a chair with one yank, brandishing it skillfully. A well executed strike sent it across his attacker’s face. The crack of bone and wood ran through the populated bar. “You can call me an idiot and boss me around!” He jabbed the stunned man in the stomach hard with the end of the chair leg. The man gasped and grunted before falling backwards, allowed to topple to the ground by the other two would-be attackers. “But if you ever, EVER lay a hand upon my sister again…I WILL RIP YOUR BLOODY TWIXT OFF!” The young man’s face turned red as he shouted and the young woman with the gloved hands yelled in protest, her face ashen with fear.

Well, it wasn’t right, Derk thought as he reached for his lucky dagger. Three now, against one, and all the one was doing was protecting his sister. The scrape of metal against metal was the sound of a shortsword being unsheathed. The young man traded the chair leg for a more dangerous weapon. He brandished this now, in an attempt to keep his attackers at bay. His face was a mess of rage and blood. Derk slashed his dagger across the back of one man’s ankles. The blade sliced through meat and grated against bone. The man howled in pain, falling backward onto the floor. Curses bubbled from his lips as blood seeped through his fingers.

The screams redirected the attention of another attacker, a lanky man with a scar running under his nose like a mustache. Hard, dark eyes glared at the thief. The man dove down to pull him out from under the table. Derk crawled quickly backwards, hopping onto and over the table, sinking his dagger into the backside of the scarred man. The table jumped as the man shot up in pain, hitting his head on the underside. He still managed to get out from under it quicker than Derk had hoped, and Derk thought to make for the door. Most everyone else in the bar had apparently already done so. An arm reached up from under a table to grab their drink. At least there would be a witness.

The man with a scar for a mustache grabbed Derk by the shoulder, turning him toward him. A punch across the jaw spun Derk around as if in slow motion. He found it strange the only thought rattling in his head was the hope Old Gam was not watching. Another blow set Derk’s head spinning in the opposite direction, quicker this time, the screams now not from the girl in the corner but the other patrons of the bar. The smells of hay and food and beer all faded as pain became the only thing registering.

His assailant swung and somehow Derk dodged the blow, being sure to sink the dagger deep into the man’s gut, his hand pushing until it was up to its hilt in the man’s insides. The man’s face contorted with pain, his top lip curling up strangely because of his scar. Derk twisted the dagger before he pulled it out, the man sagging to the floor. The young man with the sword was fighting off two opponents at a time and had made good work of them. Derk thought to hasten the end of the fight by bringing a chair across the back of the closest one. A smack with the broad side of the young man’s sword sent the last man to the floor. By then the only people standing in the bar were Derk, the young man whose head was bleeding, and the young woman with the torn sleeve.

“Many thanks,” said the man, wiping off his short sword with a cloth on his belt but keeping the blade unsheathed; his dark eyes scanned over the fallen foes, his knuckles white on the hilt of the blade. “It would’ve taken me much longer to get rid of those three without you.” He reached out a large, muscular hand and Derk took it in his own, feeling weak for the first time in his life. “I’m Asa and the woman over yonder,” he said, pointing to the girl in the corner who rushed over, picking over bodies and turned furniture, hugging the large man in front of him. “This is Devra, my sister. We both thank you for helping us.” His accent made Derk cock his head. This was apparently a country crow trying to pass as a city crow. Asa’s dark hair and beard were trimmed to a more urban style, but his tunic and belt were dead giveaways. The sword and scabbard was nice enough though. The young woman was dressed eccentrically, colorful skirts and
shawls draped over her frame. A little garish, but it suited her well, especially with her bright eyes. Her gloves were fingerless and embroidered.

“Yes, we do,” she said, her voice shaking, her green eyes swimming with tears. She buried her face in her brother’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t help. I just…I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Asa replied, hugging his sister. Derk tried not to stare at the two. He took the opportunity to look around for Old Gam, wondering if she had ducked out of the bar when the fighting got bad or was still hiding somewhere.

“And your name?” After a few breaths, Derk realized the young man was speaking to him. The young man’s bushy eyebrows were furrowed with the question, and Derk realized Asa was his age or a few years younger.

“Right, well…I’m Derk. At your service. Glad to be of help.” He bowed politely as a joke, looking over the siblings. He narrowed his eyes at the girl, then looked up to her brother. “Will she be all right?”

“Yes, she will, long as I keep on watching over her.” For a brief moment Derk thought the man was kidding, but the look on Asa’s face told him he wasn’t and he did his best to let his face match the man’s. “Those men were gambling with us and carrying on and well, one of them disrespected my sister. I simply could not have it.”

“Of course,” Derk said, finding himself agreeing with the man. He never had a sister of his own, but courtesy dictated the proper treatment of all people regardless of sex, including not ripping their clothes unless they liked it.

“You were useful back there,” Asa said, wiping the blood and sweat from his brow, his dark brown hair sticking to his damp skin. “My sister and I could use another sword where we’re going. You could cut down on my workload by a third if you keep it up.”

Derk failed to follow the man’s math, but a look from his sister, still clinging to the large, formidable frame told him not to bother. “Right,” he said, looking around the bar, trying to survey the scene for damages. A few bar patrons trickled in through the door and out from under tables, used to outbursts of this nature. They turned their chairs upright, sitting back down and checking on the status of their drinks, the din steadily rising in the room. The bartender returned from the back of the bar and sent a kitchen boy for the brown cloaks, making Derk’s heart thump. A groan from one of the men made Derk look toward the door, eager to leave. “Perhaps we can talk about this outside?” he offered, looking around for Old Gam before he raised his brows at the pair hopefully.

“Not a bad idea,” Asa said. Derk stepped outside while he waited for them to gather their things, taking the opportunity to look around in case Old Gam was hanging around outside the bar. The brother and sister popped out of the bar, Derk leading them to the street corner. “What exactly are you talking about? And where are you taking your sister that you’ll be swinging a sword?”