Chapter 21 #2
A lump lodged in Tobias’s throat. His sword beckoned him, suddenly heavy on his hip, but he resisted its call.
“A waste of time.” Raphael leaned back casually, chewing on his pitiful rations. “She’s likely dead already.”
Mal shrugged. “The land looked plenty fertile to me. I’d say ole Brontes knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“You think they’re in Trogolia?” Tobias said.
“Something like that.”
Tobias’s body practically vibrated with anger, but he forced himself still, turning every violent impulse inward. Tell Leila. Instead, he tore into another leaf, channeling his frustration in his gnashing teeth.
“To hell with politics.” Kareem spat onto the deck floor and gestured toward Raphael. “What’s your specialty? Strictly slaves, or—?”
“We dabble in weaponry,” Raphael said, “but slaves have kept our bellies full since we came of age.”
“I saw your lot.” Mal’s lips shrank into a straight line. “Rather small, to be frank.”
“We focus on quality over quantity.”
“Aye,” Dutch chimed in. “That workman will fetch a good price, but your whores—especially the woman—they’re a fine claim.”
“You’ve got a rare one?” Kareem said. “Most are homely—missing teeth and all that.”
“Oh, not this one.” Dutch’s hands mirrored his words, mapping out the path of Leila’s body. “Small waist, pert tits, and skin so fair, you’d want to hike up her dress just to see if her—”
“She’s spoken for,” Tobias said, barely containing his ire. “Her buyer has very specific tastes, and She’s not to be tampered with.”
With a laugh, Dutch nudged one of his crewmates in the ribs. “That’s the beauty of this trade.” A toothy grin swept his face. “We tamper all we please.”
The rage in Tobias’s chest bubbled and seethed, climbing down his arms and threatening to send them swinging. He clamped another leaf between his teeth and ripped it in half, wishing the smuggler before him could waste away just as easily.
“Look at this one!” Kareem slugged Tobias hard in the shoulder. “Throwing ’em back like a quartermaster, putting us to shame.”
“Developed a tolerance already?” Dutch said. “Your shits must come out like bricks.”
“Ah, fuck off, they’re just catching up. I’ve been rolling since dawn.” Kareem chuckled.
“Remember when Kareem went absolutely feral?” One of his crewmates leaned forward, a maniacal look in his eyes. “You’d think it was his first time on kaeko. Bloody fuck must’ve eaten his entire purse.”
“Oh my God.” Raphael sat up straight, stony and silent for a long moment. He grabbed Tobias by the wrist and stood. “Excuse us. Need to piss.”
“Together?”
Raphael ignored Dutch, pulling Tobias across the deck to the ship railing, far from listening ears. As Tobias rifled for another leaf, Raphael slapped the burlap purse from his hands.
“This is kaeko.” Raphael’s voice came out in a hiss. “This is fucking kaeko.”
Tobias looked down at the discarded pile on the floor, perplexed. “It’s a leaf.”
“It’s a stimulant with very powerful side effects,” Raphael said.
“I thought it was our rations for the day.”
“Sailors take it to pass the time, ward off sea sickness, settle the stomach. And we’ve been popping them like olives.”
Raphael’s gaze became probing, and the look troubled Tobias. “So, that means our stomachs will be very well settled, yes?”
“No, that’s not what it fucking means.”
“Bitches!” Kareem’s voice bellowed across the deck. “Stop stroking your cocks and come back to papa! Sit on his lap. We’ll tell you stories of yesteryear.”
Raphael’s expression shifted from shock to horror. “They’ve had a fraction of what we’ve had, and they want us to sit on their laps!”
“Relax, they’re joking.” Trepidation nipped at Tobias, but he ignored it, feigning composure. “Let’s just go back and blend in.”
“Blend in?” Raphael spat. “We’re fucked.”
“I don’t feel a thing.”
“I feel something. I feel totally, utterly fucked!”
Someone plucked at a pandura in the distance, and the melody of double flutes joined its rhythm. “Hear that?” Tobias said. “They’re distracted. We can sit idly and listen to music in peace.”
“You are so full of shit, Tobias Kaya. You’re always—”
“For God’s sake, Raph, you sound paranoid as all hell.”
Raphael froze. “Extreme amounts of kaeko can cause paranoia.” Sweat beaded along his forehead. “It’s happening, Tobias. It’s happening!”
Tobias grabbed Raphael’s face and pulled him close. “Listen here, and listen well. We are going to join those men and behave as ordinary smugglers or God help me, I will summon the storms and sink this vessel myself.”
Raphael’s eyes widened in disbelief, a sentiment Tobias shared. He had barely felt his arms move, hadn’t even formed the words in his mind before they’d left his mouth. His body was somehow two steps ahead of his thoughts, and the disconnect jarred him.
Raphael swallowed. “Kaeko can also cause heightened levels of aggression.”
Tobias dropped his hands. “Who’s aggressive? No one’s aggressive.” He nudged Raphael in the ribs. “Come. We’ll be fine.”
He marched toward the group, practically dragging Raphael at his side and forcing him into his seat.
The other smugglers were feeling the effects of the kaeko—Tobias could see it in their clammy skin, bulging eyes, and uproarious laughter.
Some played instruments atop barrels while others danced foolishly, stumbling in dizzying circles to the beat of the music.
“There’s our bitches!” Kareem raised his arms overhead, exposing the largest pit stains Tobias had ever seen. “All right then. It’s your first time to Trogolia—”
“It’s not our first time,” Raphael sputtered. He turned to Tobias. “Did you say it was our first time? I know I didn’t.”
Kareem chuckled at Raphael’s expense, then leaned in close. “Bit of advice: steer clear the inns of Shafer. They’re loaded with guards. Stick to Oxsanan. That’s where the lot of us rest our heads.”
“The Fireside Inn is a sound spot,” one of Kareem’s crewmates offered, his mouth nearly devoid of teeth. “The owner’s a former man of the sea, understands our kind. His daughters are ugly as sin, but they’ll spread their legs for anyone, which is all well by me.”
“It won’t make a difference where they stay.” Mal leaned back, one of the few men unaffected by the brittle leaves. “Now that Thessen’s extended its reach, Trogolia will be just another military state.”
The air turned thick. Tobias feigned indifference, pretending to be more interested in the music than anything Mal had to say, but his blood was already simmering.
“What about you?” Dutch rolled something brown and slimy across his teeth, sucking at it loudly. “You think the bitch is in Trogolia?”
“Which bitch?” the toothless man said.
“The Savior of Thessen, you horse’s ass.”
“She’s absolutely crossed the lake.” One of Mal’s men lounged across two barrels, using his hat to shield his face from the sun. “Brontes has triple the soldiers headed for Trogolia versus Ethyua, a realm nearly five times our size.” He waved a dismissive wrist. “She’s there, and he knows it.”
Kareem let out a hearty laugh. “Guess She’s fucked, then.”
“There’s a reward for Her Artist’s head,” Dutch said. “They don’t stand a chance.”
“To hell with the reward,” Kareem sneered. “Thessen hasn’t respect for our kind. And Brontes is more than keen to upend our lives and wave his troops around like a swollen cock.”
“Fuck Brontes,” Tobias spat. “May he burn for eternity and a lifetime longer.”
Tobias went stiff. It had happened again—words tumbling from his mouth free of his bidding. Only then did he notice the sweat seeping through his tunic, his quickened heartbeat, and the feral ferocity consuming him.
Kareem slapped Tobias hard on the back. “I like this one. He understands our plight.” He turned to the others. “Everyone now, fuck Brontes!”
The smugglers cheered in unison. “Fuck Brontes!”
“May his stones roast over hot coals and his entrails be devoured by pigs,” Tobias growled.
He forced back a cringe. God, what is wrong with me?
Kareem threw his head back with laughter. “He’s a fucking lunatic!”
The men whooped and hollered once more, and for some ungodly reason Tobias reveled in it.
He stood on the arena sands, his sword in Antaeus’s gut—a memory that should’ve chilled him, yet his heart roared with victory.
No, this wasn’t good at all, yet the sensation was intoxicating, as if he’d suddenly become a god among men.
“Meanwhile this one’s wound so tight, you could shovel limestone up his ass and he’d shit out marble.” Kareem slugged Raphael, who nearly jumped from his seat. His face was slick with sweat, his breathing laborious, and Tobias couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen the man blink.
Kareem flagged another smuggler over. “Samuel, loosen him up!”
A large man covered in tattoos headed toward them, grabbing Raphael by the wrists and hoisting him upright. “No, wait.” Raphael madly glanced at the others, a skittish mouse caught in the clutches of a housecat. “Don’t touch me!”
His protests fell on deaf ears as Samuel threw Raphael into the mix of dancing men, sending him staggering in circles. Perhaps Tobias should’ve rescued him, but his ass remained rooted to his seat, his body and tongue ungoverned by his will.
“What about you?” Dutch slugged Tobias’s shoulder. “Would you take ole Brontes’s reward?”
Tobias didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, as his voice was no longer his own.
Kaeko had stripped him of control and rationality, had turned the world around him to a mass of swirling color.
At some point Kareem yanked him from his seat, but Tobias could barely feel his touch, lost in the beautiful frenzy of his mind.
“Enough talk of Thessen, for fuck’s sake!” Kareem shoved Tobias into the group of dancing men. “Bitch boy! You’re up!”