'No, that's foolish,' said Belmer, still watching the cliff. 'But it pleases those who think their gods will reward them for it. Even a priest behaves kindly because he thinks there's spiritual profit in it for him.' Belmer stopped staring at the cliff and looked straight at Sharessa.
'There's nothing good in this world, Shadow. Everyone seeks profit, whether that's gold, power, pleasure, or passing crusts to beggars because II-mater will love you for it. You get what you take by your own strength and cunning, and when someone interferes with that, you kill him. That's what I do, and that's what you do. It's what we are.'
Sharessa stared back at Belmer, wanting desper ately to argue with him. If he'd put it another way, if they'd laughed at the misfortune of some ship they'd robbed together over cups of ale in a Tharkaran tavern, then she'd smile or laugh or make a joke in response. But put so seriously, examined so plainly, this life didn't seem exciting. It seemed wicked and cold, like the fiend that hunted them for its own pleasure. Cruelty was that monster's profit.
Her damp clothes seemed suddenly cold, and Sharessa hugged herself against an imagined wind. The sudden pain in her right arm made her wince, but it warmed her slightly. That twinge made her think that maybe what set her apart from the fiend was that she sought profit in pleasure rather than pain. Maybe that was the important difference, the thing that made her human.
She looked up to renew the argument with Belmer, but he had already crouched low against the cliff wall. She felt his cool hand touch her belt, tugging her gently to join him. Sharessa crept into the shadow beside Belmer, and he leaned close to whisper.
'Something's coming.'
Chapter Seven
Doubt drew the moment thin and tight as a bowstring. Sharessa felt a nauseous, uncertain quivering in her stomach as she strained to hear the sound that had alerted Belmer. Distance shushed the echoes of something coming through the forest above.
When Sharessa saw torchlight reflected on the far cliff, she felt her own smile and rose to her feet to call out, but Belmer squeezed her left hand to stop her. He put his lips near her ear and whispered, 'Wait.'
They listened carefully, almost painfully. Sharessa heard the faint sound of voices far above.
'It's them,' she whispered to Belmer.
He hesitated a moment longer. 'This fiend has tricked us with illusions before.'
Sharessa nodded and drew Brindra's sword from her belt. 'Here,' she said, offering it to Belmer. This time he did not protest.
'Call out. I'll climb, in case it's another of the fiend's tricks.' He faded into the shadows before Sharessa could reply.
'Rings!' called Sharessa. 'Anvil! Belmer! I'm down here!'
'Shar!' came the dwarf's reply. Then they all called out questions for a moment before falling suddenly silent again. Sharessa was sure it was really them; they'd remembered the fiend might hear them. Soon they lowered the rope that they had salvaged from the Morning Bird.
'My arm's hurt,' called Sharessa from the bottom of the cliff. She hoped her voice was loud enough for them to hear, but not so loud that it carried down the ravine. 'You'll have to pull me up.'
She looped the rope around herself and secured it as best she could with one arm. She tugged once, hard.
'Belmer?' she whispered. But he did not answer. She wondered whether he was already climbing. The rope pulled taut, and she felt herself rise. She used her feet to guide her ascent, careful of her wounded arm. When she came to the top, eager hands pulled her into quick embraces and patted her on the back, careful of her arm.
'Brindra's dead,' said Sharessa. She could see by their faces that they already knew it.
'At least you made it,' said Belgin. His chubby face was lucent with moonlight. 'We saw you fall.'
'The water knocked me senseless, but Belmer found me before I drowned.'
'Belmer made it, too?' Rings sounded half disappointed, half astonished. 'The fiend threw him like a doll.'
'He's not human,' interjected Turbalt. Sharessa marvelled that he still lived, while better fighters had already fallen to the fiend tonight. 'He's a fiend himself! We should get out of here before he finds us again.'
'Silence,' said Belgin.
'I have a right to speak my mind,' bleated Turbalt. 'It was my ship you sank. They were my men you've let die — '
'Shut up, you fool!' This time it was one of his own crewmen who spoke. Turbalt didn't even pause.
'And I haven't been paid yet! By Umberlee, I'll have…'
'You'll have what?' Belmer's voice came smooth as a sharp knife from the shadows.
Turbalt's flabby face blanched, and his jowls shook as he jabbered his mouth silently. He didn't turn around to face the voice but shuffled back into the shadows. Belmer walked into the light, ignoring the frightened ship captain.
'Kill those torches, and hood the lamp. If the fiend doesn't know that you've found us, we may have an advantage we can use.'
'What d'ye have in mind?' asked Rings. He stubbed out the torch he carried before Belmer could answer. One of the sailors did the same with the other, and Anvil shuttered the lantern. The scant light spilling through its covers cast tiny yellow stars on the faces of the company. 'Listen carefully,' said Belmer.
Rings and Anvil took the lead, each carrying a freshly lighted torch. Rings held his plain axe in his other hand, while Anvil clutched the unlighted lantern. Its hood was missing, and the remaining oil sloshed gently as they walked.
Sharessa knew that Anvil hadn't liked relinquishing his stewardship of the blinded Ingrar, but after exacting a promise from Belgin that the round-faced gambler wouldn't stray from the young pirate, he had relented.
The three survivors of the Morning Bird took up the rear this time. Turbalt kept pushing ahead of the other two, trying desperately to keep himself in the middle. The crewmen glared at the back of their former captain's head. They obviously despised him more than the Sharkers ever could. It was bad to be a weak and cowardly man, but it was far worse to be so when commanding the lives of others. They would never forgive him for that.
'He's using us as bait,' whimpered Turbalt. His earlier histrionics had reduced his voice to a strangled mewling. 'Belmer's sacrificing us to the fiend to save himself!'
Belgin reached out and slapped Turbalt in the back of the head with a quick hand. The fat ship captain stumbled to one knee. He rose, indignant and persistent.
'You know it's-' The heavy slap whipped his face around, harder than before. Belgin didn't speak a word. When Turbalt opened his mouth again, he just struck him again, harder still, spinning the fat man to the ground.
'That's enough,' said Belgin softly. With the faintest of whimpers, Turbalt crawled to his feet and followed, this time taking up the rear.
Sharessa watched it all from the darkness. Her clothes remained damp from her plunge into the river, but the sultry night was uncomfortable. On this side of the river, the ground was soft and moist. The tall trees had shrunk and withered, their gnarled limbs painful in the shifting torchlight.
The breezes had fled, and in their wake had risen a miasma of insects. Where they stung, Sharessa felt her flesh contract and burn. She dare not slap at them as she shadowed the others, staying always just outside the torchlight, but not too far away. Instead, she squeezed the handle of Rings's everbright axe.
Somewhere on the other side of the torchlight was Belmer, his path mirroring Sharessa's. He bore Brindra's enchanted sword. Together they waited for the fiend to attack the others. They couldn't defend themselves without these two weapons, so Turbalt's words were true. Belmer had called it a lure, but the careless passage made them nothing more than bait. Sharessa and Belmer were the hooks.
