That was good, at least he didn't have to avenge his friend's daughter. The cook's eyes went wide and he let out a strangled cry, his entire body tensed and convulsed and his cleaver dropped to the floor. Blood poured out from his mouth and it took Betrim a moment to realise the man had two dagger tips sticking out through his chest, blood spreading out all over his stained apron. The Black Thorn didn't waste a moment, he launched his hand-axe at Crooked Eyebrow. The axe took the sailor just below his neck, embedded itself in his chest with a solid, meaty
thwack
and knocked the man to the ground. Dead before he hit the floor, Betrim reckoned.
The dagger points disappeared from the cook's chest and he stopped convulsing. A moment later his body collapsed to the ground like a sack of boneless meat. A small woman stood behind the corpse, staring at the blood on her twin daggers with a cruel grin on her face.
The woman was short and slim but with an obvious wiry strength to her. Her hair was longer than Betrim had ever seen it, just starting to touch her shoulders, but still the same dust colour it had always been. Her eyes were cool pools of blue in her face and the scar on her lip that pulled her mouth into a permanent sneer stood out as proud as ever. She no longer wore leathers, Betrim noticed, instead she was wearing a baggy white linen shirt and a plain pair of brown trousers meant for a man. A sturdy pair of boots reached almost up to her knees.
After a long moment the woman stopped admiring the blood on her daggers and looked at Betrim. She cocked an eyebrow when she saw him staring at her. For a worrying moment Betrim thought she might be able to tell he was remembering what she looked like naked, pretty damn good if his memory was right.
“What's the matter, Thorn? No hug?” the little woman said with a dirty grin that made the Black Thorn smile despite himself.
“You put away those daggers, Henry an' I'll bloody kiss you if ya like.”
“Jus' as long as it ain't on the mouth.”
Henry wiped off her daggers and re-sheathed them in her belt. Betrim walked over and embraced her little frame in his big arms. She gave a little squeak of alarm but didn't stab him. Truth was hugging weren't the sort of thing the Black Thorn did but then it just sort of felt right at that point.
When he let her go she gave him a look. “Fuck me I was jokin' bout the hug, Thorn.” Then she grinned at him. “Though if ya wanna...”
“Henry,” came a voice from off to Betrim's right. Sounded gruff and with a commanding tone. He turned to see one of the mercs standing there with a very nonchalant pose. “Thought I told ya, no more murderin' folk.”
Henry sent a wink at Betrim and stepped towards the merc. It was almost comical to see the big man take a hurried step backwards when confronted by such a small woman. “Weren't no murder, Kain. Was a straight up killin'. Those dumb bastards was attackin' a good friend o' mine. Was jus' helpin' him out.”
The merc, Kain looked from Henry to Betrim. “What's your business in Solantis, sailor.”
Betrim spat. “Gettin' out o' these fuckin' sailor clothes fer a start. Past that reckon my business is none o' yours.”
Henry turned away from the merc and grinned at Betrim. For some reason he couldn't stop remembering what she looked like naked, then he decided it was because it had been too damned long since he'd last been with a woman, any woman. Betrim reckoned he'd need to find himself a whorehouse sometime soon... and some money to pay for it.
“Come on, Thorn. I'll take ya ta my place,” Henry said, walking away, no longer paying the merc any attention.
“You got a place?” Betrim couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Aye. I got a place.”
Henry
Felt right good to see Thorn again; even if he did look more than a little worse for wear. Henry never had many friends in her life and those she did she tended to scare away. Thorn was different though; even from the start they'd got along, even after she'd stabbed him.
It was the one thing they'd never managed to get past. Thorn seemed to take the stabbing personally; seemed to think if they ever had sex again she'd stab him again. Wasn't like that for Henry though. Even back then the Black Thorn had been a big name; one of the biggest. Henry's name had been on the rise; rumours of a woman murdering folk in Chade, of course some of those rumours also said she was a weird and Henry didn't much like that.
The Black Thorn had been sat alone in a tavern; one of Henry's regular hunting grounds, with a dark look on his burnt up, scarred face that was scaring away some of the nastiest men Henry had ever met. But she weren't scared. Henry weren't scared of no one; not even that bitch of a Blademaster who left her dangling over the Jorl.
So Henry bought the Black Thorn a couple of beers then took him up to her room. She wanted to see what a name that big could do and, as she remembered it, she weren't left wanting. Trouble was she got a bit carried away; wanted to know whether the Black Thorn bled like everyone else, so in the middle of it she stabbed him in the side. Wasn't a deep cut, nor a vital one, weren't even bad enough to stop the Black Thorn finishing; just enough to make him bleed, to leave a scar to remember her. Turned out he bled just like every other man Henry had ever stabbed. Trouble was ever since then he had a habit of looking at her like she was thinking of stabbing him again. She'd been there, seen that; no need for a repeat. Though she wouldn't mind another fuck; weren't often she came across a man with a third leg.
Henry realised she was staring at him from the corner of her eye. Still just as tall as ever but looked like he'd lost some weight. His hair used to be longer than hers and dyed black but now it was short and red. Henry liked it red, the colour of blood. The left side of his face was still burned with twisted, melted flesh but now he had a black eye patch strapped on covering his left socket.
“Is it gone?” she asked him.
Thorn turned his head to look at her, he had to turn it an awful long way considering she was on his left side. “The eye? Aye, it's gone.”
“What happened?” she asked, more than a little fascinated by what lay beneath the patch.
“Arbiter took it.”
Henry made a noise at the back of her throat, she liked those witch hunters about as much as Thorn did; which put it somewhere between hate and really hate. “That one from before? What happened to him?”
“Thanquil? He's dead. But it weren't him. Were a different one,” Thorn said, didn’t seem like he was overly fond of the topic.
“What about that whore of his? She dead too?”
Thorn didn't look happy but it was hard to tell with his face. “Jezzet... Aye. She's dead too.”
Henry spat and a grin hit her face. Seemed today was a good day. “Good fuckin' riddance.”
Thorn didn't reply; just kept walking in silence with that unhappy face of his. After a while he spoke again. “Ya know ya way around Solantis. How long ya been here?”
“Half a year or so, I reckon. After Hostown... After what happened ta the Boss I ran back ta Chade. Thought I could find myself a new crew or... I dunno. Thought everyone was dead back there. Turns out they weren't.” Henry paused, felt her jaw tense, felt the anger rise up so high and hot she wanted to scream. She wanted to stab someone. The pain in her right leg flared up again; was a constant thing these days, a constant ache that sometimes got worse to the point where it forced her to limp.
“Why Solantis?” Thorn asked. He was staring at her with his one eye and that expressionless face of his.
Henry swallowed down the rage before answering. “Seemed as good a place as any. Plenty o' work here if it's needed. Plenty o' people. Not much in the way of laws.” It was also the place she'd been born but she didn't like to admit to that. No one liked to admit to that.
She stopped outside the tavern,
the Dog's Laugh
. Had a picture on the sign of some laughing dogs baying at the moon over the plains. Not the cheeriest of names but then in Solantis there weren't much in the way of cheer. It was a shitty building if truth be told; part wood and part brown stone. Two stories and a cellar for the booze, kitchen and a common room on the ground floor, four bedrooms above. Used to be those rooms were rented out but not anymore.
A drunk lay on the ground outside the door; his head resting against the wall of the tavern. He was cradling an empty bottle like it was a new-born babe. Henry thought about aiming a kick at the man's head but decided he wouldn't even wake up. She could smell the alcohol on him from here, stale and rancid.
“Welcome to my place,” Henry said, grinning.
“What? You own a tavern?” the surprise in his voice sent a hot flush of pride through Henry's chest.
“Aye,” Henry said still grinning. Thorn was staring at her with an open mouth, she could tell, but she weren't about to stop him. Instead she looked at her little tavern and felt content to let her rage drain away.
“Well ya gonna tell me how ya came by it?” Thorn asked.
Henry took a deep breath; just to extend the moment, just to mess with him. “Aye, I guess so. Seems it'll sound better over a beer, I reckon.”
“Beeeeeeeeeer...” the drunk slurred from the floor; stirring to life at the sound of alcohol.
Thorn laughed, though Henry thought it sounded more like a dagger scraping against stone. “Ya know, I thought he were dead.”
The drunk opened his eyes and squinted up at them. He looked to be handsome underneath all the dirt from sleeping on the street. “You there,” he slurred, pointing a hand somewhere in the vicinity of Thorn. “Good sir, I will do anything for a drink and I do mean anything. I will gladly blow your trumpet.”
Henry had to stop herself from laughing but Thorn just looked confused. “What the fuck did he jus' say.”
“Blow your trumpet,” the drunk said again. “Play your pipe. Suck on your sausage... er...” The drunk faltered to a stop.
Thorn was starting to look more angry than confused now. “You some sort o' weird?”
The drunk looked up with the most innocent of smiles on his face. “What? Me? No. Of course not... Unless you are. If that's the case then sure. Why not.”
“What?” Henry looked at Thorn; he had that look on his face, the look like he wanted to punch something. Henry knew that look all too well, it was one of her favourites. Still, there was something about the drunk... something about his face.
“Thorn. I reckon he's blooded,” Henry said, still grinning from ear to ear, still suppressing her laughter.
Thorn peered at the drunk, his face slipping back into its expressionless mask. He always was easy to distract. “Reckon ya might be right.”
“Never had a blooded 'fore,” Henry mused. “You only suck cock or you know ya way 'round a cunt too?”
The drunk swung his lazy gaze to Henry and his face lit up into a handsome smile. “For you, my lady, I would do anything... Well, for you and for a drink. I will take you to the heights of pleasure. I will make the earth move. I will make you see the Gods.”
“Uh huh.” Henry quite liked the way he talked, all fanciful and well spoken. She wasn't about to admit that to anyone though. “Inside, both of ya.”
The tavern wasn't busy but then it rarely got busy before dark. It wasn't the sort of place reputable people visited, not that there were many reputable people in Solantis, it was more the sort of place where thieves and criminals and sell-swords hung out. A dangerous combination and no mistake but all were kept in line out of fear. Henry had a reputation; had a name and it was almost as big and as dark as the Black Thorn's these days.
“Josef,” she called to the man tending the place. “This here is Thorn. He's a good friend o' mine. Get him anythin' he wants. I'll be in the back room.” She grabbed hold of the drunk by the shirt and pulled him along just before he started asking Josef for a drink. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Thorn laugh and sit himself down, as far away from the door as possible and with his back to a wall.
Henry opened the door to the back room, pushed the blooded drunk through and then closed it behind her. She pushed the drunk to his knees, leaned back against the door and pulled her belt free, letting her trousers fall so she was naked from the waist down except for her boots, they took so long to take off there wasn't a chance she was bothering. “Go on then, get to it.”
The drunk swayed a little on his knees and then focused his eyes on her crotch. “About that drink.”
“Ya can get as shit-faced hammered as ya like after.”
“Right you are,” the drunk said with a grin and went at it with a passion. Didn't take long for Henry to be soaking wet and she found herself making a noise something like a purring cat as the blooded drunk kissed and licked and sucked at her cunt. She grabbed hold of the door frame to steady herself and cocked her right leg to give him better access. He responded by waggling his tongue around inside of her to a chorus of
squelches
.
It was Thorn's fault. Strange to think of the ugly bastard while she had some blooded man's tongue inside of her but there it was. Seeing him again had made her think of the first time they'd met and that had made her horny. It had been too long since she had a regular man to fuck; not since the Boss if truth be told. Although three months laid up on a bed unable to move might have had something to do with that.
A shiver of pleasure ran through her and Henry let out a loud ragged moan. Something wet trickled down her left thigh. It had been far too long since someone else had last given her pleasure.
“You know,” the drunk said pulling his face away. Henry could see his mouth and chin were wet, he wiped at them with a sleeve. “This would be so much easier with a drink in my hand.”
Henry realised she was panting, she had to reply between her breaths. “Fuck sake, ya almost there. Get on with it.” She grabbed the back of the blooded drunk's head and shoved his face into her crotch. He took the hint.
“I'd almost forgotten how loud ya are,” Thorn said from the table as Henry approached. She could still feel her heart beating too fast but it was over now. The look on Thorn's face might have been a slight smile but with him it was hard to tell.
