Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) (6 page)

“Guess it’s only you, Delvin,” the gypsy whispers with a sigh of relief. The figure refuses to respond and pauses in an awkward position. “Why aren’t you talking? Is something wrong? If that isn’t you then know that I have a weapon. Many of them and some people claim that my body counts as one too.”

Sari shoves the curtain aside and swiftly turns away when she sees that Delvin is still pulling up a pair of cotton shorts. She whistles and taps her foot before facing her friend and grinning at his exposed backside. A pang of guilt washes over her, resulting in a shudder when she imagines Nyx’s reaction to her staring at the warrior. Sari wipes the sweat from her brow that appears at the thought of the channeler’s love of magical flames. When the young man turns around, she can see that his ice blue eyes are barely open and she would not be surprised if he sleepwalked back to the room.

“I haven’t seen that weapon in a while,” Delvin whispers, taking a seat on his bed. He yawns and stretches, which causes many of his joints to pop. “The ship will take us to a small jungle town called Anpress. We don’t have to pay them, but we do have to work. Our positions will be given to us in the morning.”

“Then the hard part is over,” Sari says while juggling the stiletto. She admires the beautiful sheen of the blade as it passes through beams of crimson moonlight. “I keep finding a reason not to use this thing. I don’t want to lose it, I’m scared it will break, and another dagger would be better. The truth is that I treasure it too much to consider it a mere weapon. You probably think the same thing when it comes to the shield that Nyxie made for you.”

“What happened to not talking about this?”

“I know I said that, but maybe we should talk about it once.”

“You mean you need someone to talk to about your battered heart.”

“It’s not battered. Just a little . . . stomped on.”

“Luke didn’t mean to stomp on it.”

“The damage is mostly self-inflicted and we all know it.”

Delvin sighs and pats the spot next to him, which the gypsy gingerly accepts. He notices she is subtly leaning away, so he reaches out to comfort her. The thin nightgown makes it difficult for the young man to know where he to put his hand, so he lets his arm drop to his side. Sari giggles at the attempt and inches closer to drape his arm around her shoulders. The warrior’s sweaty limb stays extended to keep his hand away from her exposed skin, but it is not a position he can hold for very long. Eventually, he lets Sari bend his elbow toward her side and she casually taps his knuckles. A tremor rocks her body, revealing how close she is to crying and releasing the emotions she has been keeping locked away for far too long. Delvin pats the gypsy on the head and gives her a friendly kiss on her blue, sweet-smelling hair.

“I’m not going to say I’m happy or sad about my situation,” Sari explains when she gathers her thoughts. A tear nearly escapes from her eye, but she forces it back in before her friend notices. “I had a chance to win and gave it up to do the right thing because Kira was with him first. That’s how things should have always gone, but I let myself get too close. My pain is my punishment and being away from him is helping me see that. Things may be awkward between us for a while and I still have that one kiss, but I’m coming to terms with the fact that I lost a lover. Now I’m trying to hold onto a friendship that might prove to be even stronger than what I originally wanted from him.”

“Then why are you on the verge of crying?” Delvin asks, handing his friend a handkerchief from his bag. “It’s okay to be honest with me, Sari. You’re hurting and none of us can figure out why because you’re denying the most obvious reason.”

“Why do people think love is so simple and clean?” the gypsy asks in a droning tone. She adjusts her gown and leans back, playfully licking her lips at the warrior. “I get the feeling that this is all people see me as. The beautiful and buxom champion who loves to play. The seductive rival of Kira Grasdon. Nothing more than eye-catching curves, a pretty face, and dresses with flashy skirts. I mean, did you see all the dolls that were made of me and the only difference was the clothing? You asked before about us being famous after we defeat the Baron. Well I’m hoping that people forget I was ever a champion. That way I won’t be stared at all the time and the whispers will stop.”

“Those people are just-”

“Say jealous and this conversation ends, Cunningham.”

Hopping off the bed, Delvin strolls over to a standing mirror and carries it to the middle of the room. He freezes when the legs scrape against the floor, several neighbors groaning about the noise. With a roll of her eyes, Sari goes to stand in front of the foggy glass while her companion does his best to clean it with his discarded shirt. It leaves streaks on the surface, so he hunts for another handkerchief to finish the job. The gypsy impatiently twirls and spins on her toes, stopping only when Delvin clears his throat. Wiping sweat from his brow, the warrior stands next to the mirror and smiles at his friend.

“This is what people see. A beautiful woman from a people who have a reputation for being seductive and cunning,” Delvin explains, moving his hand up and down the rough wooden frame. Seeing a smudge on the glass, he licks his thumb and cleans her reflection’s cheek, which makes the gypsy giggle in amusement. “It’s the same as someone looking at Timoran as a savage or me as an expendable swordsman. None of the people whispering about us know who we truly are. Maybe it’s because you and Luke are the youngest of us, but you’ll learn that the opinions of strangers don’t matter as much as those of your friends and family. Yes, I know I let what strangers were saying drive me back to Yagervan, so use me as an example of what not to do. Anyway, these people will never know that you are a loyal, smart, powerful, and loving person that Windemere is lucky to have as a champion. All of us are happy to have you by our side.”

“I did things early on that I’m not proud of,” Sari awkwardly admits, shifting in front of her own reflection. She adjusts her nightgown and runs her hands along the fabric to dry it off with her powers. “Those are the events that are hurting me now. They make me think I deserve to suffer.”

“Remind me to tell you about my sins, little sister.”

“Little sister?”

“Well if I’m going to marry Nyx then I should get used to calling you that.”

Sari grins and rushes over to give Delvin a tight hug around the neck. After a brief moment of hesitation, she plants a quick kiss on his rough cheek. She can feel tension in the young man’s arms and wonders if she has gone too far considering their current state of dress. Looking into his eyes, Sari can tell that his thoughts have wandered back to the distant channeler. Whispering a soothing spell, she puts her companion to sleep and struggles to drag him to the bed. Placing her finger on his lips, the gypsy leaves the faint illusion of Nyx’s mouth on his to go along with the dream that she knows he is enjoying.

“Some days I think all of you are too good for me,” Sari says while grabbing her stiletto and returning to her own bed. In her absence, Fizzle has stolen the pillow and stretched his long tail across the entire mattress. “Then there are times when I think we were always meant to become a family. Move over and give me back my pillow, Fizzle.”

A puff of rainbow mist hits her face when she tries to move the drite, causing Sari to fall asleep next to the bed.

*****

As the sun peeks over the horizon, the three adventurers stare at the vessel that will take them to the southern jungles. The Little Sister has plain, white sails with no identifying symbols and the masthead is a fairly common mermaid figure. A series of openings are along the side, which Delvin assumes are portholes until he sees an oar emerge and dip into the dark green water. Someone shouts from the upper deck and the long pole is pulled back inside with the faint clatter of wood. As the tide comes in, the small ship bumps against the padded dock while its crew continues loading the last of the cargo into the hold. Some of the sailors pause when Sari arches her back and waves her hand at a nearby drinking barrel. A snake of warm water slithers through the air and slips into her shirt before churning to massage her sore muscles.

“I’m so glad this worked,” the gypsy groans as she relaxes. Not wanting to overheat, she sends the water into the ocean and takes a seat on a crate. “My back is killing me. Especially the lower region.”

“Well you were sleeping on the floor,” Delvin points out with a shrug.

“Thank you for not making the obvious joke.”

“What joke?”

“The one about big . . . so where’s the captain?”

“He’s the man by the wheel.”

Sari scans the deck, her eyes going wide when she sees the bulky figure. “What is he?”

“Captain Lunk Erovayn is a half dwarf.”

“What’s the other half?”

“Ogre.”

Seeing that his new crewmembers have arrived, the short and stocky captain makes his way to the nearest gangplank. He has an obvious limp that is caused by his right calf missing a chunk of flesh, an injury that he has proudly exposed by removing part of his pant leg. The sun reflects off his bald head, which is adorned with a collection of sea-based henna tattoos that range from an octopus to a coiled leviathan. His brown beard is thick and oily, the impressive mane matching the hair that covers his bare arms. The man’s barrel-like chest is protected by a vest of leather armor that has several daggers dangling from polished rings. A massive cutlass is on his hip and the battered hilt shows that it has seen many battles. There is a cold spark in his hazel eyes as he extends a hand toward Delvin and takes in the sight of the blue-haired gypsy.

“She doesn’t look like much, but the boss said you’re a package deal,” Captain Erovayn says in a gravelly voice. He leans forward to examine Fizzle, the drite politely waving with his tail. “I won’t put the dragon to work since I’m not stupid enough to bark orders at one of his kind. You two are a different story. Mr. Cunningham, I want you to put your belongings in the crew quarters and help out with the morning’s heavy labor. I’m sure a warrior like yourself won’t have any problems with a little sweat. Though I’ve also been told you’re a decent cook, so maybe I’ll put in the kitchen for our first day out and see what you can do. I lost my last cook to another captain who had the gall to propose to her. I’d have clocked him in the jaw if he wasn’t my new son-in-law.”

“I’ll help wherever you need me,” Delvin promises, raising his hand for a salute. The old sailor chuckles and forces the other man’s arm down. “Sorry about that, sir. Force of habit when I’m taking orders. My friend here is part naiad, so she can help with the tides and anything else that can make us move swiftly.”

Sari clears her throat and bows with her arms across her chest, a gesture she hopes is accepted as respectful. “I can see that the captain already has two Waverunner halflings on board, so he doesn’t need me for those jobs. His real worry is that an attractive gypsy will be a source of distraction or trouble. I swear on Cessia the Luck Goddess that I will be on my best behavior. This journey is much too important for me to jeopardize it by having fun with your crew.”

“That’s a concern, but I’ve been assured that you will be kept occupied,” the hairy man states, nodding to someone who is approaching from the city. “We’re escorting the Little Sister’s new owner back home and dropping you off along the way. You’ve been assigned to cater to this noble’s needs and wants. Basically, you’re a servant for the duration of your voyage. She promises to keep you busy and out of trouble. Though the young lady was grinning and laughing when she said it.”

“She?” Sari asks as the gypsy turns to face the source of the slender shadow that has appeared between her and Delvin. The young woman’s heart sinks for a second before she angrily glares at the familiar figure. “Damn you, Gabriel! Find another mortal to mess with and leave me alone.”

Clothed in a billowing dress of amber fabric that hangs heavy around the skirt, Kira Grasdon gives the shocked gypsy a hug. Her black hair falls down to her waist, a blazing streak of red running down the center and continuing along her exposed back. The bronze-skinned woman releases Sari and gives Delvin a friendly kiss on the cheek before extending an arm so that Fizzle can perch on her wrist. The drite delicately climbs to her shoulder, not wanting to damage the heiress’s gold and diamond bracelet. Kira nods to Captain Erovayn, who goes back to the ship and barks a steady stream of orders to his crew. With a wide smile, she enjoys the open-mouthed expression on Sari’s face and the way her the gypsy’s hands move as if to draw the daggers hidden in her sleeves.

“Nyx asked me if any of my ships were close enough to give you a ride,” Kira says, drawing an apple from her ivory-colored purse and handing it to Fizzle. His first bite sends a glob of juice onto her cheek, which she delicately wipes away with an embroidered handkerchief. “I was in Hero’s Gate, but it was easy to travel back here and lend a hand. Glad to see you kept your promise, Delvin, and didn’t warn her about the surprise. I do enjoy making my old rival uncomfortable.”

“I’m not your rival any more, Grasdon,” Sari states, flicking a small ball of ice at her fellow champion’s head. Delvin leans away from the tiny projectile and hurries toward the Little Sister, but he is knocked off the gangplank when an unexpected surge rocks the ship. “Since we need the ride, I’ll be nice and act like a proper servant. Though I will get revenge for any humiliation you inflict upon me, so don’t push your luck.”

The heiress casually lifts the edge of her skirt to reveal the chain and sickle weapon that is strapped to the fabric. “As you can see by my dress and the terrible location of my weapon, I have to act like a proper noblewoman for now. After all, I’m the head of a powerful merchant house and very few of my fellow elite have accepted the idea of me being armed. Truthfully, some of my older peers are rather archaic in their thoughts toward women and weapons. It would also be embarrassing for me to be petty, so you can remove the spell from your lips. The tip of your tongue always sticks out of your mouth before a casting, which one wouldn’t see in the heat of battle or with your kissing tactics. Now, we will be sharing a room to make sure you are at my beck and call every second of the day. Be prepared to work, Sari.”