Chapter 0 - A Poisoned Gift

 
A Poisoned Gift
Bromm X
 
              Apliss, Lady of Fortune, had embraced the city of Torvuls in recent weeks. Captain after captain had dropped anchor to announce fantastic hauls of treasure. From the Gates of Dawn to the Ivory Straits, ships laden with gold, silk, spices, and slaves had come to disgorge their plunder and revel in the spoils. Triumphant pirates thronged the taverns, whorehouses, gambling parlors, and streets of the city, raucous in their revelry and profligate in their purchases. 
              In was in the Naked Nymph, a popular inn and tavern just off the main market square, where a group of captains gathered in the backroom for a high-stakes game of cards. The table between these men was piled high with gold and jewels plundered from unfortunate ships’ holds, and the edges of the table lined with empty bottles of liquor. The heavy scents of opium, tobacco, and indigo spice hung in the smoky air of the room. 
              Six captains sat around the table, two them already out of money but still stocked with liquor. A dwarf with a wide black beard braided with gold leaned back in his chair, his bare feet on the table as he smoked a pipe. 
              “Gods be good,” muttered the tall, olive-skinned woman beside him. “Put your reeking feet away before we all choke to death on the fumes, Borres.”
              Borres laughed, wiggling his toes in her direction. “Calm down, Salima. We have no more money to lose tonight, just relax and enjoy the smoke.”
              She scowled at him, and then at the other players at the table. The dwarf was right, for he and her were both eliminated already, and Salima was quite bitter at the misfortune that had lost her all her stolen gold to the tall man at the head of the table. He was standing over a pile of coins and gems accrued from his tremendous run of luck. A young man, his beard was thick and black, his shoulders broad, and his eyes a deep green. He wore a silken shirt and embroidered bandolier, and on the chair behind him was hung a fine coat. On the table before him was laid a broad-brimmed black hat with a worn feather plume. In his sun-worn hand was a set of five cards that he threw down triumphantly before the others.
              “Three dragons!” he cried, and the others groaned. 
              “Damn it all,” muttered the visling Zyrdun. He shoved a pile of coins toward the victorious man before sinking back into his chair, his golden eyes on the dwindling pile before him. He ran a bronze hand through jet black hair and curled in lips in frustration. The others merely chuckled at his misfortune.
              “My dear Bromm will ruin us all before the night is old,” laughed the thin, wiry man between Zyrdun and Bromm. He was tall and willowy, with a thin mustache and a sailor’s queue hanging down his neck. He wore an open shirt that showed a coarse carpet of chest hair, partly hidden beneath his embroidered bandolier. 
              Bromm raked in his winnings with a smile. Across from him sulked the sixth captain, a short yet handsome man named Armen. With a contemptuous flick of the wrist, Armen flung his cards back to Bromm. 
              “Eanmasor is dealing next. Try to give me some good cards this time. And take some for yourself why not,” he sneered. “You’ve been bleeding all night.”
              “He’s been bleeding all night,” Zyrdun grumbled as Eanmasor shuffled the cards together, “Because he won’t bet on anything but a sure win. And we can all see a sure win coming.”
              “Aye,” Bromm agreed. “Zyrdun’s right. You’re a cheap bet, Eanmasor.”
              “Fortune favors the bold!” Borres laughed, banging his bare heel against the table for emphasis. The coins clinked together under the impact, and Salima grimaced.
              “More rum!” she called toward the back of the room, where other pirates sat dicing and drinking. None moved. “More rum!” she yelled again, and one of the men looked up to her with a shrug. “Eldrin’s knuckles, where’s that serving wench?” she demanded.
              “Earning her coin somewhere,” Borres laughed. “All the women of the city are spreading their legs for coin these days.”
              “Aye,” agreed Armen, looking at Salima, “You could take a lesson from them, Salima.”
              She turned an acid gaze at him and put a hand to the knife at her belt. “Watch your tongue lest you lose it, Armen.”
              He merely shrugged and held out a hand to catch the cards Eanmasor dealt him. He checked his cards and raised a theatrical eyebrow before setting them down again. From the back of the room, a young woman approached. She was of average height, but slender and fair, with long dark blonde hair hanging down her back as far as her narrow waist. Clad in a thin dress of pale blue silk, she carried two bottles of rum in her white arms. With her green eyes downcast, she passed around the table toward the visling. As she passed Borres, the dwarf reached out to goose her bottom and she yelped.
              “Hands off my slave, dwarf,” snapped Zyrdun, his golden eyes narrowing. “Or I’ll take your hand for safekeeping.”
              “Apologies, Captain,” replied Borres in a voice oozing insincerity. “I mistook the lass for the serving wench come at last.”
              “Nay, this is my rum,” Zyrdun declared, taking the bottles from his slave girl and setting them on the table before him. “You may buy them from me for enough coin to keep me in this game.”
              “Speaking of the game,” Bromm said, throwing a handful of coins into the middle of the table. “I would like to bet.”
              He leaned back in his chair, smiling imperiously over the table. Putting a protective hand over his cards, he stole a look toward the back of the room where his friends and officers were dicing. Satisfied that they too were sharing in his good fortune, he turned back to the game. The pile of coins had grown, and Bromm tapped his face-down cards in expectation of another winning hand. 
              Then, to his surprise, Eanmasor shoved a pile of coins into the pot. Bromm turned to the older pirate with a look of interest.
              “Have you finally drawn a good hand or are you at last learning to bluff?” he asked. Armen snorted. 
              “He’s learned to deal himself a good hand, more like.”
              “I am not the one at the table with a reputation for cheating,” Eanmasor retorted with a pointed look at Salima. The corsair scowled at him. 
              “If I were a cheat, do you think I would be the first one out? That was a fine collection of gems your man Bromm won from me.”
              “Indeed it was,” Armen agreed. “You promised us the story of where you got them and have yet to deliver.”
              Salima sighed. “Very well,” she said, casting another look over her shoulder in vain search of the serving wench. “We received word from Lord Aryachas’ spies that the miners of the Jeweled Isle had struck a vein of the finest emeralds, so we fitted out the Sea Serpent and made for Xenon’s Isle. Lying in wait for three days, we watched two squadrons of galleons pass by laden with jewels and the emperor’s soldiers. The Serpent is a fine ship, but no match for a squadron of galleons on the alert. At last, Apliss smiled on us and put a smaller, wounded vessel in our path. She was the Prince of Raislain, a forty-gun galleon showing her age. She had been caught in a storm and lost some of her sails, making her an easy target. The crew put up little fight and soon gave up the ship.”
              “Bah,” scoffed Borres, “Put some flourish on the tale!”
              “I have no flourish, just as I have no gems,” Salima remarked bitterly. “Or any rum for that matter.” She stood up from the table and stormed off in search of the inn’s staff. 
              “Her loss,” Eanmasor shrugged. “I’m in the mood for another tale. Zyrdun, how did you come to have this pretty girl in your power?”
              Zyrdun threw another handful of coins into the pot and uncorked a bottle of rum. 
              “Ah yes,” he slapped the girl on her ass himself and she started. Bromm’s eyes fell upon her for the first time tonight, running from her delicate jawline and green eyes all the way down her slight frame to the long legs beneath her thin dress. In the candlelight of the inn’s backroom, he could see the outline of her legs under the silk. Golden bracelets sparkled on her wrists and about her neck was hung a necklace of emeralds and pearls. The visling grinned with pride as the others admired his bejeweled concubine. With her arms held behind her back, she stood obediently at her master’s side, eyes on the floor. Zyrdun took a long draw from the bottle and banged it down on the table.
              “I dropped anchor in Slaveport to take on a new cargo. There have been many wars upriver, several warlords have fallen, their cities have been sacked, and the markets are glutted with slaves. I bought sixty strong men for the queen’s plantations, but I found that one of my regular contacts had made poor choices and was nearly destitute. When I arrived at his home, he was selling off clothes and furniture to satisfy his debtors. I made a generous offer on his daughter, and now she warms my bed.”
              He reached over and grabbed her breast through the pale blue dress. She squeaked in meager protest but said nothing. Bromm felt the urge to lick his lips and occupied them with drinking from his wine bottle instead.
              “Bad decisions can lead a man down from a great height. Now let us see if I will rise or fall tonight,” Eanmasor declared, pushing all of his coin into the middle. The table chorused in anticipation. 
              “Well, why don’t we see what you have there, Eanmasor,” Bromm challenged, throwing in his money to match the bet. Armen matched it with a shrug, but Zyrdun deliberated, sipping from his bottle.
              “Come on now, Zyrdun,” Eanmasor taunted. “surely your luck will change soon!”
              “Aye,” Bromm agreed. “You think it a coincidence that he is betting aggressively the hand after we challenged him? It’s a bluff, and a poor one at that, my friend.”
              “What a good friend you are, Bromm, to expose my bluff like that,” Eanmasor replied. Bromm gave him an unapologetic shrug, and Zyrdun sighed and matched the bet. “Show ‘em!”
              They flipped their cards, and Bromm won yet again.
              “Damn it all!” Zyrdun roared, slamming down his rum so hard it spurted rum from the top. 
              “You have Apliss’ own luck tonight, Bromm,” grumbled Armen. “It will change for you sooner or later, for the Lady of Fortune is a fickle lover.”
              “Perhaps,” Bromm replied. “But for tonight, she is sucking my cock!”
              “Ah… I thought I had you there,” sighed Eanmasor. “Well, that’s all I have tonight.”
              “Come now,” said Bromm as he raked in his newest winnings. “Buy yourself back into the game.”
              “I cannot, I’m afraid. I’ve settled many debts tonight and have some more to pay up before I set out to sea again. My man Haben with the guild is owed some of this money.”
              “Well, you cannot just run off from the table like Salima. You owe me some stories.”
              “Aye, and you no longer have a game to concentrate on,” added Borres.
              “Very well, deal another hand while I tell you of where my money came from.”
              “You mean where my money came from,” Bromm grinned over a growing stack of coins and jewels. Eanmasor shook his head.
              “Indeed, your money. But until we leave port, you’re buying us drinks!”
              In answer, Bromm ripped a draw from his own bottle of red wine and belched. “Drinks all around! If only I could find the wench.”
              “She’s off somewhere. But, the tale I promised!”
              “Aye, the tale!”
              “A month ago, we were laid up in port making repairs to the Wanderer. She’s an old ship, but reliable when she’s had her time in the yard. I was at the House of Silk, having a whore, when an elf came in. He was Calyran, the queen’s sorcerer. He goes to the proprietor and says ‘let all the captains who come in know that I’m looking for daring captains to hire for a task.’ Well, I’m sitting right next to the man as he says this, so I said ‘I’m a daring captain.’ He looks me over and says I’ll do, then gets right to explaining the job. 
              “There’s this tomb, he says, the resting place of some ancient sorcerer-king. Calyran had found the location of it and wanted it plundered. He offered a bounty for all sorcerous items, tomes, scrolls, and the like brought to him. And, he says, some of them might be cursed, so he would free us grave robbers from any curse we might incur. I agreed, for I have never been tomb robbing before.
              “And so when the repairs to Wanderer were done, we made our way out to the island where this sorcerer-king was supposed to be buried, only there was a problem. We weren’t the only crew he hired to go after the treasure. Anchored off the island was Chariot, old Orrem’s ship. And his men were already loading the treasure aboard! 
              “Well, we had had a hard sail there and were not about to let them make off with our treasure. So we sailed straight in and boarded the ship. It was a hard and bloody fight, I lost three dozen of my men, but we prevailed in the end. My mate Kynas cut down Orrem and I hauled down his colors. We put Chariot to the torch after we transferred the treasure to Wanderer and turned back toward Torvuls.”
              “A good plan,” Borres nodded, “Let him take the risk of diving into old tombs.”
              “Aye, there’s no safe way to explore a tomb,” Zyrdun agreed. “They’re all laden with magic and monsters.”
              “Another hand!” Bromm called, eager to continue his run of luck. Only Armen and Zyrdun remained in the game and the former agreed without a word. Zyrdun hesitated. He looked to his slave girl by his side and then to his money again. Bromm took two of the old electrum coins Zyrdun had brought to the table and clinked them together in his fingers. The visling took another swig from his rum bottle and threw his ante across the table. 
              “Good luck, Bromm, I’m off to find the wench and some more drink,” Eanmasor said, rising from the table.
              “You’ll be back, right?” Bromm asked with more concern than he had meant. He and the older man had struck up a fast friendship since meeting in a West Market jeweler’s shop five days before.
              “Don’t you worry your pretty little head none, I’ll be back. Keep an eye on your cards, lad.”
              He stood up and left, heading out the same door that Salima had disappeared through in search of the serving staff. As the door swung open, Bromm could hear the roar of the common room crowd surge and then fade away again as the door shut behind Eanmasor.
              The three remaining gamblers were dealt in by Borres, who had loaded his pipe with fresh tobacco. Zyrdun took the opportunity to light up a cigar of his own and the table grew smokier. Coughing, Bromm waved the smoke away as he tried to take stock of his opponents.
              Zyrdun was still scowling at his cards, his bronze brow set with determination. Bromm smiled. The visling was deadest on winning back his money and would play to the bitter end. I can fleece him for all he’s got, Bromm crowed to himself. Armen, meanwhile, was scowling at his cards and twice sneaked a look over his shoulder at the door. The man is impatient for his rum, thought Bromm. 
              Bromm bet aggressively, baiting both men in as the dwarf puffed on his pipe and taunted them all. 
              “Shut up, Borres,” Zyrdun snapped, “You’ve got no skin in this game.”
              “Aye, but that’s what makes it so fun. Hurry up and settle this so I can start a new game with duller cardsharks than you lot.”
              Armen threw his last coins into the pot and slumped back in his chair. “It’s in the hands of the gods now,” he muttered. He threw another look over his shoulder at the door.
              Zyrdun was scowling as he played with the last stacks of coins. He checked his cards again anxiously and tapped ash from his cigar. 
              Bromm raised an eyebrow. “Have you got a good hand there?”
              “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m all in.” he swept his coins and few remaining gems across the table to the main pot. 
              “That’s not enough to match,” Borres complained. “We’ll have to break this out separately.”
              “No,” Zyrdun interrupted. “I’ve got more.” He reached down to his belt and emptied his purse onto the table. Borres and Bromm meticulously counted the fresh coins and the dwarf shook his head. 
              “You’re still short, Zyrdun.”
              The visling frowned as he tapped his fingers against the table. “Very well. I bet the girl.”
              All eyes turned toward her and she started. Looking up from the floor, her cheeks turned a delightful shade of red and Bromm felt his breeches tighten. 
              “Go on, girl,” Zyrdun urged. “Get up there. Is she enough to cover the difference?” he asked.
              Bromm and Borres nodded as one. Armen merely shrugged. The visling slapped her on the ass and patted the table. 
“Why don’t you show us what we stand to win, Zyrdun?” asked Borres as the girl stepped forward. “Take her clothes off.”
              Zyrdun caught her by the wrist as he considered. He looked her over, his eyes resting on her ass. He gave it a hard squeeze. 
              “Do it. Show them what I see each night and morning,” he commanded. The girl blushed a deeper red, her lower lip quivering as the visling tugged at the hem of her dress.
              “Aye, get her naked,” Bromm called with a belch for emphasis. “Show us those tits, girl. They look like a nice pair.”
              Zyrdun grew impatient and pulled the girl’s dress down from her shoulders. She moved to cover herself with her hands and Zyrdun yanked the dress all the way to her ankles. He unfastened the emerald and pearl necklace about her neck and slipped the golden bracelets from her wrists, pocketing the jewelry.
              “Get up here,” he ordered, pointing to the pile of coins again. Timid as a mouse, she climbed up onto the table and knelt atop the pile. Zyrdun pulled off her silken slippers and left her completely naked in front of all the gamblers. Some of the sailors at the back of the room had taken notice and drew closer with interest. 
               Bromm’s lieutenant Sahat slapped him on the shoulder. “I hope you’ve got a good hand, that’s our payroll you’ve got there,” he whispered in Bromm’s ear. Bromm smiled confidently.
              “Oh, my mistake. I forgot this,” he said, and flung a ruby the size of a walnut onto the pile between the girl’s legs. It clinked off the pile of coins and bounced up to hit the girl between her legs, right in her most sensitive woman’s parts. She yelped in pained surprise, and the other pirates laughed. 
              Taking advantage of the distraction, Bromm slipped one of his cards out of his hand and exchanged it for another hidden under his hat. Borres, still watching the girl, leaned over the table and pinched her little breast in one rough hand.
              Zyrdun angrily rose from his seat and pointed a threatening finger across the table. “I’ve warned you about that, dwarf!”
              “She’s not yours anymore,” Borres replied, “She belongs to the pot now.”
              “Aye, those are the rules,” Sahat agreed. Zyrdun gripped the edge of the table in two hands, his eyes blazing golden fire at the others. 
              “When she becomes mine again,” the visling snarled, “I’ll extract my price from you.”
              “Let’s be done with this then,” Armen snapped. “Show your cards. I have places to be.” He flipped his hand over, a pair of knights. 
              Bromm smiled. He had the man beaten. Zyrdun was next. With a growl, he threw his cards down between the naked legs of his concubine. Bromm smiled wider, for the visling had only a pair of fives and a pair of eights. The other three captains turned their eyes to him, and Bromm leaned back in his chair. With one finger, he flipped over all his cards at once. 
              “Three dragons,” he announced, and Zyrdun’s face contorted in a bronze mask of rage. His fingers tightened around the table’s edge in a white knuckled grip, and Bromm thought he meant to throw it over. The visling’s biceps flexed, and the heavy oaken table lifted an inch off the ground. Her seat suddenly unsteady, the girl yelped in fright as the coins slide about beneath her. 
              “Calm down, Zyrdun,” Borres raised his hands cautiously. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
              The table dropped to the floor, setting the coins jingling again. Zyrdun straightened up. 
              “Apliss curse you, Bromm. Your run of luck will come to an end someday, and I hope I’m there to see it. Girl, you belong to him now.”
              He turned away and gathered up his things as Bromm began to rake in his winnings. Armen stood up and walked away from the table without another word. Bromm reached out and ran a hand down his new concubine’s bare leg. She blushed deep scarlet and covered her breasts with her arms. Bromm was amused at her shyness, but reached for her discarded dress on the floor. Zyrdun snatched it away. Bromm felt the heat rising in his cheeks.
              “That’s mine,” he snapped, “I won her.”
              “You won her,” the visling agreed sourly. “But not her clothes or her jewels. These I bought and they’re mine to keep.”
              Before Bromm could argue, Zyrdun swept past him and marched to the inn’s rear door. “Men,” he barked. “We’re leaving.” Without waiting, he threw open the door and stormed out into the street.
              Borres gave Bromm a barely restrained smirk. “Between that one and Armen, I’m not sure who is more bitter about their losses tonight.”
              Bromm grunted in disinterest. Instead, his eyes lingered on the girl he had won. “Come here, girl,” he said as he stood up from his chair and extended a hand to help her off the table. Blushing, and with one arm over her slim bust, she shyly took his hand and stepped to the floor. Sweeping his winnings into a plain brown sack, Bromm laid an arm around her shoulder and led her across the room to where his sailors were dicing. 
              His eyes admired her slender body as they walked. She was fair-skinned, smooth and clear, with dark golden hair that fell down her back. Zyrdun had made up her face with powder and rouge, as well as painting her lips and nails red. Her green eyes were outlined in dark paint, which only made them stand out against her white face even more. Between her legs she was shaven, and Bromm licked his lips as his eyes alit on the smooth folds of her sex. He felt his cock hardening. They stopped at a heavy cabinet by the base of the staircase, where sailors had piled up bottles of drink, most empty. Bromm picked them up one after another, looking for any with something left inside. The girl stood silently under his arm, blushing a deep red as all the sailors looked up from their dicing to admire her naked body up close.
              Bromm sighed in disappointment. They were all empty. Instead, he turned his attention to another kind of entertainment. He leaned close to the girl and kissed her neck. She tensed up, but he detected the hint of a smile on her thin lips. 
              “What’s your name, girl?” he asked softly. Her eyes twitched to the side, she bit her lip, and meekly replied “Ilune, sir. Recently of the Rouel family of Slaveport.”
              “Aye, it was a cruel thing your father did, Ilune,” Bromm soothed, brushing her golden hair back from her shoulders. “But I am your master now, and I will be kind to you. You may call me Bromm, and I am captain of the Bad Neighbor. Do not fret, it’s just a name, and not one that I chose.”
              “Yes, Master Bromm,” she replied, her eyes downcast again. Bromm sighed at her loveliness. He wanted to fuck her straight away, to throw her on the table amid all his coins and jewels and take her before the gathered sailors like a common whore. His cock was hard for her already, and the wine and rum was clouding his mind, but he stayed his hand. The girl was anxious, he would have to calm her first.
              The door to the common room swung open again and at last Eanmasor returned, leading the innkeeper’s pretty daughter with a tray of bottles. She smiled at Bromm as she entered, entertaining good memories of their time together the previous night. And in the morning. And earlier in the afternoon. But Bromm’s arm was now draped around the slender frame of his new concubine, and he no longer had eyes for the olive-skinned girl in the plain dress. 
              “Did I miss the end?” Eanmasor asked, plucking a bottle of whiskey from the tray. Bromm nodded and lifted his sack.”
              “You did. I won everything,” Bromm replied and for emphasis, he pinched Ilune’s nipple between his fingers. Eanmasor chuckled with glee, and he offered Borres a bottle which the dwarf happily took.
              “Isn’t that a lucky night for you. Apliss smiles on you.”
              “Indeed, she does,” the dwarf agreed. “What will you do with your new plaything?”
              Bromm considered the girl, trembling under his arm. “Nothing horrid, I assure you. I am known around the sea as a lover of women.”
              “That’s what she’s afraid of,” Eanmasor laughed. He reached forward to tweak the girl’s breast as Bromm had, but Bromm slapped his hand away.
              “She’s mine,” he declared. Eanmasor threw up his hands in surrender.
              “Have it your way. But Bromm,” he said after a swig on his whiskey. “Our game ended before you could tell your tale. How did you come into your fortune here?”
              “Well,” he began with a smile. “I won it from you lot.” They both broke out laughing. Ilune managed a weak smile, and Bromm pulled her close to him, fondling her little breasts as he did. “But I’ll tell you, though best that you keep it to yourself. I have a few contacts with White Wind smugglers, and so I know their comings and goings. As it were, I learned of a ship coming in. A fast brigantine sailing from the August Cities with a great load of spice. It’s one of several links in the chain that stretches all the way east. Well, the White Wind tend to put in at an islet to the east of here where they transship to smaller vessels to bring it into port unnoticed. We set ourselves up on the approaches to the isle, captured the brigantine, and put her to the torch. The crew put up a bitter fight, but we put them to the sword to keep the secret. For you see, I know of their secret base because I have run with them before. Some of the men recognized me, I am sure of it, and I cannot let word get back to the other smugglers whom I do business with.”
              “Ruthless and cunning,” Eanmasor nodded sagely. The older pirate downed a full cup of whiskey and poured himself another. “Remind me to treat you with the respect you are due.”
              “I would not turn on you so,” Bromm assured him. “These men had crossed me before, which I why I dealt with them so harshly. But you have been only a friend to me.”
              “I am glad to hear it. A toast to our friendship!” he raised a glass of whiskey and Bromm tapped his own glass against it. “Perhaps we could put our heads, and our ships, together for a task,” he suggested.
              “Aye, perhaps these smugglers who have wronged me will suffer another unfortunate mishap,” Bromm mused. “As long as you can keep my secret.”
              “Aye, I’ll carry it to the grave.”
              “See that you do. But that is for another time, let’s enjoy ourselves tonight. Elyssa, more wine! More rum! More of everything!”
              The wench obliged, and the men left in the Nymph’s backroom drank deeply of the inn’s stock. Bromm offered a bottle to his new concubine, and the girl took it shyly. She looked to him as she raised the bottle to her red lips and he bid her to drink. 
              She drank timidly at first, but as Bromm watched, and tipped the bottle higher, she drank more greedily until she choked and sputtered, spilling wine down her bare chest to the floor. Bromm took the bottle away and set it down before wiping up the spilt wine.
              “I am sorry for wasting your wine, master,” she murmured sorrowfully, and Bromm merely smiled. 
              “There is plenty more where that came from. How do you find it?”
              The girl licked her lips and bit her tongue. “It is good, master.”
              “Good, she says!” Eanmasor laughed. “That’s the finest stuff that money can buy, and she says ‘good!’”
              “The wench needs to develop her palate,” Borres grumbled. “Perhaps then she’ll have more to say.”
              “Give her something else to taste,” Eanmasor suggested with a cruel glint in his eye. Bromm paused halfway through a draw on another bottle of wine.
              “What do you mean?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Borres leaned in closer, his eyes wandering where his hands could not. 
“Come, Bromm, let us see what this girl is like. When a captain takes the helm of a new ship, he must put her to the test, see how she handles. How does this little girl handle?”
              “Make her suck your cock!” Borres roared, and the men dicing turned around in interest. The girl squeaked with fright and pressed herself up close against Bromm, who instinctively closed a protective arm around her.
              “Here?” he asked suspiciously.
              “Aye, here. She’s a whore, is she not? Do with her what men do with whores.”
              “What do you say, girl?” Bromm asked. She trembled under his arm and then nodded. 
              “Yes, master,” she said as knelt before him. Bromm unlaced his breeches and drew out his cock. He was already hard, and the girl took his cock in her hands without thinking. 
              “Look at her,” Borres mused, his hands on his belt. “She knows just what to do with one of those.”
              “Apliss has smiled on you,” Eanmasor laughed, slapping Bromm on the back hard enough that his whole body jerked forward and his cock hit the back of the girl’s throat, making her gag. “And now you receive Nystra’s Kiss.”
              Abandoning their dice game, the sailors crowded into the back of the room now crowded forward around Bromm and his concubine. Murmurs of admiration and envy went through them, and Bromm moved a hand to his sword hilt. But they did not come closer, and Bromm allowed himself to sink into the familiar pleasure of having his cock sucked by a pretty girl.
              She ran her tongue along his shaft and around his head, stroking him gently but firmly with her soft, white hands. Bromm caressed her blonde head, her pale, flushed cheeks, and her white shoulders. Her skin was so soft. 
              Her green eyes flicked up into his and Bromm was struck with their beauty in the room’s lamplight. He laid an adoring hand on her jaw as she pursed her lips around the head of his cock. 
              “What’s your name again, girl?” Bromm asked from deep in the throes of pleasure.
              “I am called Ilune, master,” she answered meekly with only a momentary break from sucking his cock.
              “Ilune,” Bromm echoed. “That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.”
              “You are too kind, master,” she replied, blushed a deeper red.
              “Bromm,” Borres said. The dwarf leaned in close, his hands at his side itching to grope the naked girl in front of him. “Are you sure you won’t share your new slut with us? I am sure that Zyrdun has seen to it that she’s no maid.”
              “Give me at least one night by myself. Perhaps she’ll come around to it.”
              “As you wish,” Borres sighed. He took another bottle from Elyssa’s tray. “But I need a whore. I’ll be seeing you.”
              Bromm ignored him as he left, instead taking a bottle of wine from Elyssa’s tray himself to replace the one he had just emptied. The other sailors had gathered around to watch Ilune, none with more interest than Eanmasor, who was surreptitiously rubbing the front of his trousers as he watched. Ilune’s cheeks and chest were reddening, whether from the wine, the attention, or both. Bromm cared little, but cast a proud look over his men to revel in their envy. 
              And envious they were. Some looked on with more admiration or interest, but he could tell every man present wanted it to be his own cock in the girl’s mouth. Bromm uncorked the wine bottle with his teeth and spat the cork onto the floor. It bounced away and he took a long draw on the bottle. 
              “A fine night of cards,” he muttered to himself and when the others nodded he was surprised to realize he had spoken aloud. 
              “And wine!” Eanmasor declared. He took a bottle for himself and drank half of it in one swallow. “That’s the good stuff,” he slurred, his cheeks reddening. “But that,” he pointed to Ilune, “is the very best stuff. Look at her little titties, look at that ass!”
              Ilune giggled, muffled by Bromm’s cock in her mouth, and her cheeks turned a bright red.
              Bromm felt his head begin to swim, the drinks were taking their toll. “Food,” he muttered, watching the girl’s head rise and fall on his cock. “I need something to eat and soak up this wine. Elyssa, meat!”
              “More to drink, sir?” the girl asked, approaching him with interest and distaste for the slave girl’s pleasuring. Bromm shook his head.
              “Not mead, meat! That ram on the spit when I came in, is there any left?”
              “Yes, captain,” she replied, her eyes still on Ilune. “I’ll bring some now.”
              She scurried away to the kitchen and Bromm leaned back against the cabinet piled high with drinks. From out in the common room came the sound of a brawl breaking out. He smiled to himself. Never a dull moment in this city.
              Elyssa returned with a haunch of mutton which she set down before Eanmasor and Sahat, who promptly began hacking it apart with their knives. Sahat speared a piece of meat and presented it to Bromm, who ate it right off the knifepoint. As he chewed, he looked down to the girl nervously sucking his cock and sighed. This is the life of a pirate that I have always wanted to live.
              He looked up as Eanmasor approached, a slice of mutton in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other. The older pirate seemed to read his mind.
              “This is what we dream of, isn’t it?”
              “Indeed it is. This is how the great pirate lords live all the time, isn’t it?”
              Eanmasor shrugged. “Some of the time. There is a lot of intrigue, backstabbing, and some occasional administration of their empires, too.” The pirate took a big swig of his bottle and blinked away the rum in his throat. He exhaled, then let out a reverberating belch. “Ah… good stuff.”
              Bromm laughed and shook his head. Ilune continued sucking his cock, undisturbed by the belching or the men crowding around to watch her work. Bromm ran an affectionate hand through her golden hair and took another sip of his wine.
              “You told me once,” he began to Eanmasor, “that you met the greatest of all pirate lords.”
              “I suppose I did,” Eanmasor mused. He stepped closer to Bromm, looking down into Ilune’s eyes as she sucked. “Pretty little thing you are,” he murmured to himself. Bromm raised an eyebrow at him.
              “You promised to tell me the story someday,” Bromm reminded him. Eanmasor blinked, took a draw on his bottle, and then lit up.
              “Ah, I did!” he remembered suddenly. “And tell it I shall!” Eanmasor proclaimed, thrusting a hand toward the sky. He swayed on his feet. “Oh, perhaps I need to sit first…”
              “Sahat, bring a chair. Eanmasor has a story to tell.”
              Sahat obliged, snatching a chair recently vacated by one of the gamblers and sliding it across the floor toward the old sailor. Eanmasor eyed it curiously, then took another draw from his bottle.
              “Haven’t you had enough?” Bromm asked. Eansmasor snorted.
              “I’m fine. I can hold my drink, boy. I’ve been drinking shince you were… in your…”
              Eanmasor stepped forward, swayed on his feet again, and fell to the floor. 
              “Damn it all,” he slurred. “Drink’s gotten to me… Just need a moment to… rest…”
              Bromm raised an expectant eyebrow, but Eanmasor closed his eyes and began to snore.
              “Sahat,” Bromm said, pulling his cock out of Ilune’s mouth, “Help Eanmasor up the stairs to bed. Put him in my room.”
              “Aye, captain. Will you be sharing the drunk’s bed?” he asked.
              “No. Elyssa,” Bromm barked. “Is the master suite available?”
              The wench considered him for a moment, jealously looking at Ilune, still naked on her knees in front of him. “It is,” she answered after a long pause.
              “Wonderful,” Bromm reached into his sack and threw her a gem. “I expect this will cover it. Take Eanmasor up to my other room. You,” he turned to Ilune, “are coming with me.”
              He lifted her up onto his shoulders, and she squealed in surprise. With her draped over his broad shoulders and Eanmasor being carried by two crewmen, Bromm began to climb the stairs to his suite on the top floor. His hard cock flopped ridiculously about before him and he smiled to himself. Such was the life of a pirate ashore.
              Passing two men smoking hemp at the landing window, Sahat and another man separated to take Eanmasor to bed. Bromm paid them little mind, looking ahead to being alone in the suite with his beautiful new concubine. Summitting the stair on the fourth floor, he reached the door of the master suite and threw it open.
              The room was the finest that the Naked Nymph had to offer. The bed was covered in silk sheets, an overly-cushioned couch sat against one wall and looked over a pair of double doors to a balcony over the main market. Through the glass windows, Bromm could see the sea of lantern and torchlights on Palace Hill, just beyond the market. Even at this late hour, the streets below his window were crowded. Through the open windows drifted all the sounds of the city on the night breeze; laughter, chatter, music, and someone nearby getting fucked. 
              Bromm wrapped Ilune up in his arms for a kiss and pulled her inside the room. The door slammed behind him, and he threw his sack to the floor, where it spilled its contents across the polished wooden planks. Gold and jewels glittered in the light of the room’s sole burning candle, but he had a more appealing treasure already in his arms. 
              He kissed her mouth and held her close to him. Her muffled moan of delight incited his desire, and he began kissing down her neck to her shoulder, planning to get on to her breasts before he turned her around and fucked her. But when he kissed her neck at the base of her jaw, she gasped and quivered with passionate fervor. 
              “Oh ho,” he laughed in her ear, “You like that spot, don’t you?”
              In the dim light of the candle, he could see her blushing.
              “Kiss me there again,” she begged in a whisper, and Bromm complied. Her moan of pleasure was a thing of beauty and he saw her toes curling against the wooden floor. “Yes, master! Just like that!”
              Bromm kissed her again and cupped her cute little breasts with his hands. His cock was throbbing, her ecstatic moans only making it ache for her touch even more. Bromm pulled away and took his concubine by the hand, leading her to the edge of the bed. He sat down and sank into the luxuriously stuffed mattress. Ilune stood before him, shyly biting one finger as she regarded him. Bromm yanked off his breeches and kicked off his boots. His hard cock stood erect in front of him.
              “Come on, girl,” he urged, holding his cock in one hand and beckoning with the other. “It’s just you and me for now.”
              Ilune crept slowly forward, one delicate hand extended hesitantly toward his cock. Bromm smiled as he took her outstretched hand and placed it against his member. “Go on,” he whispered, pulling her close. “You know what to do.”
              Ilune knelt before the bed as he spread his knees. His cock beckoned to her and she slowly lowered her red lips to meet it. Bromm wound a hair through her hair and gave her a gentle push toward his cock. Her lips touched the head and she gave it a soft kiss. She retreated, her arms crossed over her breasts and her eyes lowered to the floor.
              “What’s the matter?” Bromm urged, stroking his cock in invitation. “You were not half this shy downstairs, before an audience.”
              “I was not,” she agreed softly. Her cheeks were red, and she plucked nervously at a lock of hair that had fallen over her breast. “But, now that you and I are alone…”
              “You fear I will hurt you?” Bromm asked. Ilune said nothing, but he could tell that he had guessed truly. “Do not fear me, girl. I may be a pirate, but I would never harm a beautiful girl like yourself.”
              “You told a story,” she began hesitantly, “of the smugglers…”
              “Aye, I did. I put them to the sword. But you are no smuggler, Ilune.”
              “I’m just a slave girl,” was her trembling reply.
              “Indeed you are, and I want nothing more from you than your lovely company.”
              “Truly?” she asked, raising her head up just enough to peek out from under her golden eyebrows.
              “Truly,” Bromm replied. “You and I will live together as master and slave girl, making every day a glory to Nystra. Until my money runs out, we will eat, drink, fuck, and make merry from sunrise to deep into the night when we collapse from exhaustion. You have my promise, before the gods themselves, that no harm shall come to you by my power.”
              “You’ll be kind?” she asked meekly, and Bromm nodded. He leaned forward and cupped her chin.
              “I promise. Unless you want me rough, in which case I’ll fuck you silly.”
              She blushed deeper, and convulsed in a scandalized giggle. Bromm smiled at her, and she bit down a reciprocating smile until she no longer could contain herself. She beamed back at him and took his cock in one hand.
              “That’s a good girl,” Bromm beamed as she shuffled forward on her knees. She lowered her mouth to his cock, one hand holding it steady as her other braced herself against his naked leg. Her mouth opened to swallow his cock, and her bright green eyes stared back at Bromm as he watched his cock disappear into her mouth. 
She worked her tongue deftly along and around his cock, pairing the motion of her mouth and tongue with that of her soft, dexterous hands as she worked him. Bromm stared down into her eyes, winding a hand through her golden hair as he pulled her closer. She laughed, muffled by the cock in her mouth, and Bromm could not help but join in. Her eyes danced in the candlelight and Bromm could think of nothing else but throwing her over the bed and fucking her until he could not stir himself to move any more.
              “Come now,” Bromm said, pulling his cock from her mouth. “Get up here on all fours and let me fuck you at last.”
              She giggled and stood up, her naked body glowing in the candlelight and a string of spittle hanging from her lips. Bromm clenched a hand around his cock as he guided her onto the bed.
              Ilune stepped past him to crawl onto the bed and Bromm took the opportunity to give her a playful slap on her behind. She squeaked in surprise, falling to the bed with a delighted giggle. She landed on her stomach and stretched herself across the bed like a cat before raising herself up onto her hands and knees. Her pink sex beckoned to him, glittering wet in the dim candlelight. Vigorously stroking his cock, Bromm took her by the hip and steadied her for penetration. Ilune moaned with pleasure when he touched his cock to her lips and began to push himself inside her. The pink lips spread apart to admit him, and Bromm felt his whole body quiver. 
              He planted a foot on the bed and mounted her tight frame, thrusting powerfully into her little body. Ilune squealed with delight the first time his hips slapped against hers and he saw the bedsheets twist up in her hands. He wound a hand through her golden hair and pulled her head back to face him. Her young face was flushed, her green eyes sparkled in the candlelight, and her little breasts bounced on her chest. She bit her lower lip to stifle a moan. Bromm pulled on her hair again, his free hand grabbing at her breasts, where he pinched a nipple between his rough fingers. 
              Ilune furrowed her brow and her jaw fell open, her moan turning louder and lower as he fucked her. Her bare feet bobbed over the edge of the bed with each thrust of his hips, toes curling. Bromm pulled her up from the bed and her hands pulled the bedsheets up with her. He wrapped her up in an embrace from behind, arms over her breasts as he kissed the nape of her neck. Her long golden hair cascaded down her back, where he felt it pressed between their bodies. Ilune turned her head toward him and kissed him. Bromm heard himself moan against her lips, locked in a lustful embrace or lips and bodies. 
              He felt he was about to come. He slowed his thrusting and loosened his grip on Ilune. She slumped forward to balance on her hands and knees again, slowly working her hips against his on the edge of the bed. 
              “I need a moment,” Bromm gasped, “I’m not ready to come in you yet.”
              “Don’t take too long,” she whined, “I need to be fucked.”
There was a sudden burst of chatter outside, floating up from the street and through the open door. An idea struck Bromm.
              “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he whispered. He gathered her up in his arms and lifted her from the bed. Ilune giggled anxiously as he carried her around the room, then gasped as she realized he was heading for the balcony door.
              Pushing the door open, Bromm stepped outside. The brick beneath his feet was still warm from the day’s sun, but a cool night breeze swept over him, prickling his bare skin. With Ilune in his arms, pressed against his chest, he looked out over the city. 
              “What are you doing, master?!” she cried, and Bromm kissed her little mouth in reply. He set her down on the balcony brick and turned her to face the city.
              “It’s a beautiful night,” he whispered in her ear. Ilune wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt at modesty. Bromm looked along the face of the Naked Nymph where other balconies stuck out over the street. They were all vacant, but from the lights in the rooms, he knew that he would have an audience as soon as they could hear him fucking Ilune. 
              “But master, people will see us,” Ilune protested, covering herself with her arms. She peered anxiously over the balcony’s edge to the street below. It was late, but the streets were still full of people, most of them drunk. Bromm was feeling the wine as well and could not stop his hands from roaming all up and down her naked body. 
              “I know they will,” he whispered in her ear. “I want them to. I want everyone to see us. I want them to see me fucking you and know that I have you. That you are mine. I want them to want you and to envy me.”
              Ilune hesitated again. Her eyes searched the rooftops and nearby windows. He saw her bite her lower lip, then she nodded slowly. Bromm smiled. He needed no more encouragement.
              Standing behind her in the middle of the balcony, he eagerly guided his hard cock into her. She was still wet, her smooth sex nearly dripping with excitement. He tilted her head back so that he could see her pretty young face. Her mouth hung open and her green eyes had rolled back into her head, which delighted Bromm.
              He drew his cock almost all the way out of her and began with a mighty thrust into her, all the way back to the base. His hips clapped against hers and Ilune squealed with surprised delight. That will bring them watch, Bromm thought, then thrust himself into her hard again. Ilune giggled nervously and Bromm could see her scanning the rooftops for the audience they were both sure would emerge.
              But that was not on his mind, even though he had brought her out to the balcony for that exact reason. Instead, he became all consumed by the task of fucking her. He slammed his cock into her again, watching over her shoulder as her little breasts bounced and she squealed again. He fucked her vigorously, with powerful strokes that made her little ass clap. 
              He wrapped her in his arms as he fucked her from behind, losing himself in the moment of fucking a beautiful girl in the cool night air. He felt the night breeze on his body - his bare nipples, his wet cock - and his breath came quicker to him. Ilune was hot in his arms, her whole body shaking and shivering under the assault of his cock. 
              He turned her head back toward him and kissed her, the heat of their mouths scorching in the cool night. She moaned in pleasure, stifled by the kiss, and he could not help but join in. She clutched at him with her soft little hands, clawing at the arms which embraced her, his face that kiss her, and at the legs that thrust a hard cock inside her. Begging for more through the kiss, she grew weak in the knees. 
              Ilune sagged on his cock and Bromm caught her before she could fall to the brick. She swung forward, reaching for the balcony rail, and caught it in her hands. Bromm slowed his thrust as she steadied herself against the rail, her breathing coming fast and shallow. 
              “Are you alright there?” he asked breathlessly, still slowly sliding his cock in and out of her sopping wet sex. Ilune giggled nervously.
              “Yes, master. I’m alright.”
              “That’s quite the girl you have there,” said a voice, and Bromm turned with a start, his cock slipping out of Ilune. A man stood on the balcony next to him, dressed in only an open nightshirt. His chest was hairy, with a line of dark hair leading down his chest to a stiffening cock swinging between his legs. Bromm smiled at the man and gave him a nod of recognition.
              “Thank you, sir. I won her in a card game downstairs just now.”
              “That must have been quite the game,” the man said. He stepped forward and leaned on the rail of his own balcony, staring at Ilune with interest. “Who was foolish to put this girl into the pot?”
              “A pirate drunk on success and rum. He lost her on a pair fives.”
              “His loss,” the man murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of Ilune’s naked form in the light of the moon and city lamps. “Apliss smiles on you, and Nystra upon her. She is most beautiful.”
              “That she is,” Bromm agreed. He slid his cock back into Ilune, glowing with pride at the man’s compliments. He looked around at the windows again and found that more than a few faces now peered out at them. Even in Torvuls, where every alley had a streetwalker plying her trade, Ilune drew hungry, lusty eyes to her naked body. 
              “I hope you don’t mind if I stand her and watch,” the man said. Bromm thrust himself into Ilune hard again.
              “Of course I don’t mind. That’s why I brought her out here,” he replied with a laugh. “I wanted to show her off!”
              He planted his feet again and began to fuck passionately. Ilune squealed in delight, the hammering force of his hips pushing her further toward the edge of the balcony. Where she had started with her hands gripping the rail stretched out above her head, she slowly was driven over the edge under her waist was pressed against the rail and her whole torso hung naked over the edge. Her golden hair hung to one side, swinging over the street below in motion with her bouncing little breasts as Bromm fucked. 
              There came a cry from the street below. “Look up there! There’s a girl getting fucked!” 
              Bromm smiled broadly and pushed himself to fuck harder. Looking down into the street, he saw a gaggle of drunken sailors emerge from the Nymph’s front door and piled across the street into the market for a better view. The sailors shouted encouragement and solicitations, seating themselves on market stalls and tables closed up for the night.
              Ilune took encouragement from them, driving her little ass back onto Bromm’s cock with vigor. She turned to look back at him as he fucked, lifting one leg up that he might better penetrate her sex. Bromm took that leg in his hand, lifting it higher off the ground and fucking deep into her. It was a lovemaking pose he knew from the sacred texts of Nystra and paintings on the walls of Her temples, but never one he had tried before. 
              But tonight was a night of firsts. Ilune moaned with each thrust, pursing her full red lips as she watched his cock plunge into her. Her little breasts bounced on her taut chest, and Bromm felt himself building to climax.
              The drunken sailors below were gathering more of a crowd. They shouted and cheered, offering money to take Bromm’s place. He heard the clinking of coins being thrown against the building and falling well short of the balcony. The man on the balcony next to him was watching with great interest while stroking his cock. Bromm half-turned his head toward him to give him a proud smile.
              The man smiled approvingly at Bromm, but then dropped his eyes to stare at Ilune’s ass which shook with each impact of hips. Bromm could not put the audience from his mind. They excited him, even the drunken sailors down below begging to pay for a turn on Ilune. He reveled in their lust, their envy, his own fortune at having such a beautiful concubine. It was everything he wanted.
              He thought of the pirate lords he had seen, fucking beautiful courtesans in the Black Lotus, passing through the streets with their entourages of servants and concubines, and snapping up the most beautiful slaves for sale in the market. He had always envied them, wanted to be them. And now, here he was, fucking the girl that everyone else was lusting after. He had achieved his dream. 
              He was about to come, he realized.
              “On your knees, Ilune,” Bromm managed. She obeyed quickly, thrusting herself off the rail as soon as his cock came out of her and falling to her knees in front of him. She brushed her long hair back from her face and tilted her face up toward him as he began to stroke himself furiously.
              “Give it to her!” came the call from below. “Paint that pretty face with cum!” 
              On the balcony beside them, their neighbor was near climax himself, furiously stroking his cock with both hands. “Suck him,” the man whispered, “Suck him off, girl.”
              Bromm locked eyes with Ilune. “Obey me,” he whispered, his cock about to erupt. “Only me, for I am your master.”
              She nodded, her green eyes locked onto his. She pressed her lips together and leaned forward, awaiting his cum on her pretty face. Bromm was ready. He came with a great moan of ecstasy, thick ropes of white cum shooting forth from his cock and landing in strips down her face. She smiled a thin smile, her green eyes closed against the cum, and her body shook slightly with a welcoming laugh.
              “There it is!” the man next door cried and came as well. His cum shot over the rail, but fell short of Bromm’s balcony, instead falling to a lower balcony or the street. Bromm tried not to pay it any mind, but a humorous image crossed his mind of someone down below being showered in a stranger’s cum and he could not help but laugh. 
              He came again, and shot another sticky wad onto Ilune’s face. His cum dripped off her chin and onto her chest, where it slowly made its way down her chest to her nipples. She giggled as he came on her again, her eyes still closed but her mouth now open. Some of it went into her mouth, and she opened it wider. Bromm came a fourth time, this time pushing his cock against her mouth to come directly inside it. Ilune took his cock in her soft hands and sucked harder on it, drawing forth another bit of cum, all that he thought he could manage for her, and then some.
              “That’s a good show,” the man next door breathed, his cock now hanging limp. Bromm gave him an exhausted smile.
              “It was, but now I’m exhausted. I’ll bid you a good night, sir.”
              “A good night it was, but you must thank your audience,” the man said, sweeping an arm out to the drunken sailors gathered below.
              Ilune stood up, her face and breasts still dripping. With a giddy smile on her face, she wiped her breasts clean with a delicate finger and licked it dry. Beaming from ear to ear, she turned toward the rowdy crowd and bowed like an actress on the stage. They broke out into raucous applause.
              “Can I go next?” one man called, his cock in his hands, and Ilune turned toward Bromm, her face blushing deep red.
              “Time to go,” he said, and she nodded.
              They staggered together into the room, leaving their cheering audience calling for more. Bromm flopped onto the bed, exhausted and drunk, and pulled Ilune down to the bed beside him. She fell into bed with a huge smile on her face, his cum still glistening in the lamplight. She squirmed in uncontrolled excitement, her fists beating the beat beneath her.
              “That was amazing,” she breathed. 
              “You were amazing,” Bromm leaned over to kiss her, but at the sight of his cum on her lips, he reconsidered. Instead, he kissed each of her pink nipples and then lay back on the bed. Ilune wiped her face clean with the bedsheet and smiled at him. This time, Bromm kissed her on the lips. 
              Pulling the sheets over them both, she burrowed excitedly into his arms. Bromm wrapped her in his arms and kissed her shoulders again. 
              “Good night, Ilune. I’ll see you in the morning.”
              “Good night, master. Sleep well.”
              Bromm snuffed out the lamp and fell right to sleep.
 
              The sun was high in the sky when Bromm at last awoke the next morning. Still naked, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and raised his head from the pillow. His head was pounding. Lazy summer sunshine of the late morning streamed into the room from the open windows, the balcony doors still wide open and the drapes rustling in the breeze. He was tangled in the bedsheets, still damp from the night’s exertions. 
              Rising to his seat, he found Ilune sitting naked on the room’s couch, her arms hugging her knees to her chest. She had wrapped a spare blanket around her shoulders and pulled her long hair over her shoulders to hang over her bare breasts.
              “Good morning, beautiful,” Bromm smiled, and Ilune returned his greeting with a slight smile of her own. 
              “Good morning, master,” she replied softly. Bromm was grateful for that, for his head still hurt. Outside his window, the city was abuzz with activity. He heard the chatter of the great market directly beneath his window, a fishmonger hawking the day’s catch, a cart clattering along the cobblestones, and the distant clinking of coins. 
“Watching me sleep?” he teased. Ilune buried her face in her knees to hide her smile.
“I was waiting for you to wake up,” she replied quietly. “It is late in the day.”
“The city isn’t going anywhere,” he replied.
              Bromm swung his legs over the edge of the bed and yawned, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. Ilune pressed her face against her knees to hide a smile at the sight of his cock between his legs.
              “You like what you see?” Bromm teased. “Come,” he stood up and held out a hand toward her. “We should wash before we present ourselves to the world.”
              He led her into the bath, where a tub of beaten copper awaited them. He filled it with steaming hot water from the tap, exchanging caresses and kisses with Ilune as they waited. Once full, they stepped into the tub together and the hot water invaded every crevice of their bodies. Bromm sank into the water up to his nose, blowing bubbles in the water. Ilune lowered herself into the bath more cautiously, wincing at the hot water climbed her legs and then embraced her pink shaven sex. Bromm smiled beneath the water’s surface and pulled her down into his arms. The girl murmured with pleasure in the bath, and Bromm kissed her soft neck at the spot where she loved it most. She giggled with unrestrained delight, and he whispered a sweet nothing into her ear. His big hands cupped her breasts and squeezed. Ilune turned her head back and kissed him.
              Bromm took her head in his hand and held her close for the kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, her tongue deft and insistent in his mouth. Her soft hands closed around his cock and she began to stroke him again. Bromm turned her around in his arms and lifted her up into his lap. The hot water felt cooler now in comparison to her body pressed against him. Ilune kissed his lips, then his neck and chest as she worked her way down toward his cock.
              She got down on all fours in the bath, her bare back half sunken in the water as she put her tongue to his cock. The naked white expanse of her body stretched away from him her pretty face down to the pink soles of her feet underneath the faucet. Bromm laid back in the bath, his arms over the edge, as Ilune took his cock in her mouth and began to suck him. Her wet hair, now dark gold, clung to her body and Bromm pulled it into a single lock, holding it like reins in his hand.
              Ilune worked her red tongue around her cock head in slow, sensuous circles, her beautiful green irises staring back at him as she worked. Bromm heard himself moan as he sank deeper into the steaming hot water. The outside world melted away, and all he could think of was Ilune. She slapped his hard cock against her tongue, softly giggling with delight as she did. Bromm ran a hand through her wet hair.
              Lust overcame him. His cock was hard enough already. He sat up, his cock sliding from her grasp, and took Ilune by the hands. She smiled in anticipation as she rose to her knees in the bath and awkwardly slid forward into his lap. Bromm steadied his cock as he lifted her onto it. Her smooth, shaven sex slid onto his cock and again her red lips widened in a perfect ruby circle as he entered her. Ilune moaned as she sank to the base of his cock and he wound his hands through her wet hair. She leaned her head back and Bromm kissed her throat, her chest, her breasts, nibbling at her delicate little nipples as he hungrily began to bounce her on his hard cock.
              His hands clutched at her body, clawing at her butt, pinching her breasts. She moaned louder as his cock drove into her and his tongue and teeth worked at her nipples. The slapping of their bodies together sent sharp waves rippling through the hot bath, but Bromm cared little for the mess they made when they spilled over the walls. He could think of notice but the beautiful, naked slave girl in his arms, on his cock. She buried her face in his hair, her arms around his shoulders and her feet scrabbling for traction on the smooth copper of the rub. Bromm fucked harder, his mouth struggling to keep a hold on her breasts as they bounced on his cock. 
              She squealed with delight and wrapped her arms tighter about him, clinging to him like a drowning sailor to a raft. He spanked her, though when slapped her submerged buttocks he only succeeded in splashing a lot of water all over them. He cared not for he was too lost in the moment. Her sex was hot inside, and he could feel his cock throbbing with the need to release inside her. 
              Almost, he told himself. He raised his head to kiss Ilune on the mouth again. She moaned against him, her knees working back and forth as she ground her hips against him. She bit his lip and squeezed her arms about him, her breath coming hot and heavy as she neared climax. Bromm lifted her up from the water and gave her tight ass a mighty slap. She squealed with ecstatic delight and he slammed his cock into her welcoming hole again as hard and fast as he could. He saw her beautiful green eyes roll back and pressed his mouth against her neck. Her squeal dissolved into a guttural scream of pleasure.
              That was enough to set Bromm off. He felt his legs spasm and go weak as he came inside her. He collapsed back into the bath, sending a great wave of displaced water over the edge. In his arms, Ilune squealed and squirmed. His cock spurted into her and his toes curled. She kissed his on the lips again, her hands caressing and clawing at his chest in an orgasmic fit as she was unsure of what to do with herself as she experienced waves of pleasure. She balled up one hand into a little fist and slammed it against his chest before being overcome with momentary guilt.
              “I’m sorry, master! I did not mean to hit you, please do not be angry!”
              “It’s alright girl,” he soothed breathlessly. “You were overcome with furious pleasure. It has happened to me before and you hardly hurt me at all.”
               “I am sorry all the same,” she murmured as she lay her head against him. Bromm embraced her and gave her a comforting kiss on the scalp.
              “There is nothing to be sorry for. Now come, lay with me in this hot bath for a while and let the worries of the world wash away.”
              She dismounted from his cock and lay dreamily in his arms. Her soft hands pawed idly at his muscular chest, and he smiled fondly down at her. Ilune laid a hand on his limp cock and stroked it gently. The bath was cooling, but Bromm was not ready to leave it yet. The sounds of the city reentered his mind, drifting through the open balcony door and then the open door to the bath. Men were shouting, cartwheels were clattering, and somewhere distant he heard the report of a pistol. Torvuls was in chaos, as usual.
              At long last, the water cooled, and Bromm had had enough. He lifted Ilune from his chest, where she had nearly fallen asleep. 
              “It is time to get up,” he whispered, and Ilune yawned. They rose from the bath and stepped cautiously to the floor. Puddles had formed around it edge where they had driven water over the rim with their passionate fucking. Bromm laughed softly to himself as he threw a towel to the floor and used his foot to mop up. 
              They stood naked and dripping wet on the stone floor of the bath chamber, admiring each other. Ilune shyly touched Bromm’s limp cock and giggled at the memory of using it. He returned her smile and kissed her again. They had been provided with plush towels, and he gently toweled her off before doing the same to himself. As he dried himself off, Ilune stood before the bath chamber’s long mirror, admiring her naked body with a shy smile.
              In the bedroom, Bromm dressed himself, strapping on his swordbelt, bandolier, and pistols before he gathered up the contents of his sack, pocketed enough money to get him through the day, and stuffed the thing under the mattress out of sight.
              “Time to go down and get a late breakfast,” Bromm announced, then looked out the window. “Or perhaps lunch.”
              “Down?” Ilune asked in alarm, covering herself with her hands. “I will need clothes.”
              “Aye, we’ll get you some, girl. But first, I need something to eat, and to drink.”
              “I can’t go down there naked,” she protested, but Bromm waved her concern away.
              “This is Torvuls, Ilune. Naked whores prowl the streets looking for patrons and no one bats an eye. I’ll keep you safe, you’ve nothing to worry about.”
              She bit her lower lip nervously, but then nodded slowly. Bromm put his arm around her and led her out of the suite. She clung to his back, shielding her naked self from view as they descended to arrive in the inn’s common room. It was mid-morning, and the inn was at its least crowded time of the day, but a score of men still crowded its tables, attended to by Elyssa and three other serving women bustling about with trays of drinks and food. Bromm spied Sahat and some of his other crewmen sitting near the stairs and joined them at their table. Ilune nervously positioned herself behind him, shielding her body from view against the wall with her hands on his shoulders.
              “Well, nice of you to join us at last, captain,” Sahat said in greeting. Artifacts of a breakfast of pancakes and bacon were visible on his plate. Bromm smiled and shrugged at the men. He made to reply, but one of the serving women approached before he could.
              “Anything for you?” she asked tersely. Bromm missed Elyssa’s charms.
              “Waffles and coffee for myself and the girl.” Bromm passed her a handful of silver coins. “And extra syrup.”
              The sweet golden brown was one of the few luxuries in short supply in Torvuls. Bromm considered taking his ship north to Cold Harbor to take advantage of the high demand, but that was a thought for another time. He would be enjoying the pleasures of Torvuls until his money ran short, voyages into the Cold North could wait.
              “Well, now that you’re finally awake,” Sahat began, “We lot were going to go to the horse races in the eastern plantation fields. Well, those of us that aren’t too hungover to walk. I think Tahavi is still at the Lotus and not likely to leave until he runs out of money. The rest of the crew has already left.”
              The serving wench appeared with Bromm’s meal promptly despite the crowds at their tables. Bromm ate hungrily and drank down the bitter black coffee before asking for more. Ilune was more hesitant. She took a seat at Bromm’s side warily, blushing as every pair of eyes in the room watched her. Bromm paid her little mind, preferring to wolf down the syrup-drenched waffles and drown his headache in coffee. 
              When he was finished, he shoved the plate away and leaned back on the bench. “Horse races,” he mused after a moment. “Sounds like fun. But first, I’ve got to get this girl some clothes.”
              “Must you?” one of his sailors asked, fixing his beady eyes on Ilune’s bare breasts. The girl huddled closer to Bromm as she trying to shield herself from hungry eyes. Bromm laid a protective arm around her shoulder.
“Is Eanmasor up yet?” Bromm asked. Sahat shrugged. 
              “I haven’t seen him. He was drunker than you were last night.” 
              “Aye. Were you able to get him to bed?”
              “He was no trouble at all. We stayed with him a bit to ensure he was safe, but I haven’t heard from him since he passed out.”
              “Well, he’s had enough sleep. Let’s wake him up and see what he plans to do today.”
              They rose from the table and climbed the stairs again to Bromm’s room which he had surrendered to Eanmasor the night before. He turned the key in the lock, only to find it was already open, and threw it open with a bang. That’ll set his head ringing, Bromm thought mischievously. Serves him right for drinking himself into a stupor. 
              “Get up, the inn’s on fire!” he cried. Eanmasor lay on the bed, but did not stir. 
              “Old salt’s out cold,” muttered Sahat, but Bromm did not share his amusement. Something was wrong. His fellow captain was splayed out on the bed with the sheets bunched up over his chest, one arm hanging limply off the edge. Bromm marched forward and threw back the sheets.
              Sahat gasped, and he heard Ilune stifle a scream of horror. Eanmasor’s stomach was a bloody ruin. The blankets that had covered his mortal wound were themselves soaked in blood, which had dripped through the mattress to the floor. 
              “Gods,” Sahat breathed. “What happened?”
              Bromm gingerly touched a finger to the wound. Eanmasor was cold. His wound had been made by a knife, stabbing and cutting with abandon to leave gaping wounds. Bromm turned away in disgust. Horror gripped him, rising cold and black in his throat. 
              “Who would want to kill him?” Sahat asked, and Bromm shook his head. His hand shook, but now he felt the icy grip of horror fade to outright anger. Eanmasor was a friend. And someone had to answer for this.
              “We’re pirates,” he said softly, his fury heating him up. “But this was my room. When you left last night, did you put out the candles?”
              “Aye,” Sahat answered. “You think they were here for you?”
              Bromm’s eyes went to Ilune, who had pressed herself against the door, both hands over her wide as her eyes bulged from her pretty little head. A fine favor I did him, he thought to himself bitterly. I might as well have given him poisoned wine, he would he died drunk either way.
              “Someone who had reason to be angry with me. Where’s Zyrdun? Have you seen him today?”
              “No, but the visling cuts a figure. He won’t be hard to find. Shall I muster the crew?”
              “No need,” Bromm replied grimly. “You and I should be enough to deal with him. Come, before word spreads that he killed the wrong man.”
              They dispatched one of the remaining crewmen to find a priest, and another to transport Bromm’s sack of winnings back to the ship, then set out for the front door of the Naked Nymph.
              “Master!” Ilune called as they reached the threshold. Bromm turned back to face the girl. She was standing stark naked in the common room, her face red and her hands outstretched. “What about my clothes?”
              “Come along,” Bromm ordered gruffly. “We’ll find you some on the way.”
              “Perhaps I should stay here?” she suggested, but Bromm disliked the thought.
              “No, he might come back. You’re safest with me.” He reached back and took her by the wrist, pulling her out the door with him. Ilune made to protest, but at a hard glance from Bromm she fell in line silently. With Sahat in the lead and Bromm bringing up the rear, they set out into Torvuls’ market.
              Bromm set his shoulders square as anger filled his mind. Eanmasor was a new friend, but a friend to be sure. For the last five days, they had been gambling, drinking, eating, and whoring their way around Torvuls like old shipmates. They had watched boxers in Sea Dog’s Square, shared a whore in the House of Silk, won a brace of ivory pistols in a Narrows dice den and lost it to an orcish captain on Bridge Street. 
Then there were the endless talks of endeavors to undertake together. Eanmasor had insisted that he knew the secrets of the harbor bastion at Guildsharbor and how to take the port unaware. Bromm had thought to enlist Eanmasor’s aid in plundering another smugglers’ convoy or even striking their island base.
              And he still owes me a story of Thoramar, Bromm thought bitterly. I’ll see to it that the visling regrets this misplaced revenge of his before he meets his end. So many dreams now had gone up in smoke. Bromm felt his brow furrow into a scowl as they walked.
              Torvuls’ streets were as vibrant as ever, their exuberant cheer contrasting against Bromm’s black mood. Thronged with people, Bromm found himself keeping a wary eye on his purse. The market was perhaps the most crowded place in the entire city, drawing merchants from as far away as Leiyan and the Sapphire Sea with all manner of exotic goods to sell.
They passed a spice merchant’s stall on the market and the rotund man stopped to stare at Ilune as they passed by. A pair of mules passed by pulling a wagon driven by a fat, dusky-skinned woman in a many-colored kaftan. Rows of ivory tusks stuck up along the rails of her wagon as she barked at those in her way in a foreign tongue. At the east end of the market, a great grey storehouse towered overhead, its upper levels opened to the air as cranes lifted goods from the street high up into the building’s depths. 
              “Palace or river?” Sahat asked as they reached the corner and Bromm stopped to consider. Palace Hill had the best gambling, along with the famous Black Lotus, but his intuition told him that a ship captain like Zyrdun would want to be aboard his ship after a thrashing like he had taken at the card table. Or perhaps the visling was plotting an escape from the port before Eanmasor’s friends showed up.
              “Harbor,” he decided. “We’ll see if he’s aboard his ship and then start hitting the taverns along the quay.”
              Sahat nodded, checked the pistols and sword in his belt and then turned toward the harbor. Past the storehouse, they turned onto the Slavers’ Walk, the city’s most famous street, upon which freshly imported slaves were made to march up from the harbor to the market where they were sold. When a shipment was expected, onlookers would line the Walk to ogle and jeer the unfortunate slaves. 
              On this wide, sloping street where naked prisoners were such an attraction, Bromm was seized with a sudden concern that Ilune would be mistaken for one and treated as such. Even by her lonesome and walking the wrong way, the passersby might direct taunts and abuse at her. Bromm was beginning to have second thoughts about making her go naked, but the fresh memory of Eanmasor murdered in his bed overpowered all concern for his concubine’s modesty.
              Ilune was not the only naked woman they saw on Torvuls’ streets. Making their way down the Slavers’ Walk, they passed the mouth of an alley where a skinny, naked girl had surrounded herself with a gang of sailors who were fucking her roughly against the wall. Her moans of pleasure were nearly drowned out by their bestial grunting and despite Bromm’s rage, he felt the urge to stand and watch or perhaps to join. But Sahat forged ahead obliviously, and Bromm hurried past the alley to keep up.
              Despite the naked girl in their company, they made it down the Walk nearly undisturbed. Reaching the quay, they found the harbor even more crowded than it had been when Bad Neighbor had put into port the week before. Torvuls was already busy, but this put anything Bromm had seen before to shame. From the quayside to the Isle of the Tides nearly two miles distant, the harbor seemed more wood than water. A vast forest of masts jutted up from the sea, tangled with ropes and plied in narrow channels by sailors in small boats.
              “Eldrin’s arse,” muttered Sahat, “is there anyone left out on the seas, or are they all here?”
              “How are we going to find Zyrdun in all of this?” Bromm growled. “What’s his ship even look like?”
              “She’s not hard to spot,” Sahat replied. “Kraken is a ship built from southern sablewood, she’ll be dark as chocolate, with red sails.”
              “She could be on fire and I’d have a hard time spotting her in this mess,” Bromm complained.
              “We need to gain height,” Sahat said. He turned to scan the skyline behind them, then pointed to a domed cupola rising over the roof of a four-story building with a grand edifice. “There, from the top of the harbormaster’s building. We should be able to spot ships better from there.”
              The harbormaster’s office was located in a circular stone drum tower that had once served as the main defense for Torvuls’ harbor. Now it was home to a great archive of all the ships that put into port, their cargoes and the fees they had paid to the Queen for the privilege of enjoying her magnificent city. 
              The three of them climbed the tower’s stair to the top, where the flat expanse of the roof was still broken in places by the grooves cut for long-departed defensive cannons. Sahat went to the parapet and raised a hand to his eyes.
              “Gods, there must be a thousand ships in the harbor!” he muttered.
              Bromm looked out across the harbor and felt the wind steal his breath away. From this high point, the vast expanse of the harbor and the number of ships in it staggered him. From the mightiest galleon to the meanest skiff, the ships in the harbor represented a gathering of the sea’s denizens that might never be witnessed again. And somewhere in all that mess was the man who had tried to kill him.
              “There,” Sahat called, pointing a browned finger toward the harbor. Bromm followed his pointing and saw Kraken. She was long and sleek, with a hull of brown so dark it was nearly blacked and reefed red sails. She was anchored in the middle of the harbor, between a fishing schooner on her port side and a pot-bellied fluyt to her starboard, nearly a mile from shore.
              “There she is indeed,” Bromm muttered, dark thoughts of revenge clouding his mind. “We need a boat.”
              The three of them descended to the street and made for the quay where longboats waited to take sailors out to their ships, for a price.
              “Hold a moment, Bromm,” Sahat said as they reached the water’s edge. The three of them stopped and Ilune looked about anxiously as a group of sailors passed by, catcalling her. She blushed and lowered her gaze, but Bromm did not notice. He and Sahat looked out over the harbor and then to each other. 
              “What are we going to do once we get aboard his ship? Just stab him in front of all his crewmen and ask them to row us back to shore?”
              Bromm scowled. Sahat was right, he needed a plan. He cast an eye back to the ship. 
              “Perhaps we could steal up on it at night?” he suggested. “Crawl across on ropes, kill him in his bed as he did to Eanmasor, and then crawl back before anyone is the wiser.”
              “Hold on just a moment,” Sahat said, looking over Bromm’s shoulder. “There, isn’t that Zyrdun’s first mate?”
              Bromm turned to follow Sahat’s subtly pointing finger. Three men were going into the Mariner, a popular dockside tavern just up the block. One of them wore a deep blue silken shirt that Bromm had seen the night before on one of Zyrdun’s men.
              “Nabbu, right? It does look to be him, doesn’t it?”
              “Aye, he was dicing with us before he left to get ice cream. I’ll stake my life on it, that’s Zyrdun’s man.”
              “Either Zyrdun is in the Mariner,” Bromm said as he set his shoulders for a fight, “or that fop in the blue shirt knows where to find him.”
              “Let’s persuade him to give up his captain, don’t you think?”
              Bromm nodded grimly. The crowd flowed about them as they headed for the Mariner, though men stopped to ogle Ilune as she passed through their midst. Bromm had to ward off more than one overly familiar hand before they reached the Mariner’s door and stepped through.
The interior was well-lit by broad chandeliers hanging from the oaken ceiling and sconces fitted to the walls. Around the room were scattered tables both small and large while bartenders served drinks from behind a bar of thick, dark wood from some exotic forest. Their backs were reflected in a tall mirror that stretched from one end of the bar to the other. 
              Both the bar and tables were crowded such that Bromm took a moment to catch sight of his quarry again. A pair of towering orcs parted and he spied the blue shirt of Nabbu toward the back. He and his two companions were ascending the stairs at the back of the common room. Bromm gestured to Sahat and his friend nodded. They pressed through the throng toward the stairs, keeping Ilune against the wall where none could grab at her without thrusting their hands past Bromm, who kept a hand on his saber. 
              Up the stairs they climbed, Sahat moving ahead of Ilune, who Bromm noticed was clearly anxious about the impending confrontation. He resolved to keep her out of harm’s way and now regretted not leaving her behind. The edge of a brawl was no place for a sweet, delicate girl like her. 
              They climbed to the second floor in pursuit of Nabbu, though they could no longer see the man. Sahat paused at the first landing and looked about the tavern’s second floor. The middle of the room was occupied by private rooms, while tables for drinking or gambling lined the outer walls, none of which were taken by Nabbu or his companions. Dozens of sailors crowded around the tables, drinking, dicing, playing cards, or dividing up the spoils. 
Bromm looked to the rows of shut doors, wondering whether Nabbu was behind one of them or if he had climbed to the second floor.
              “How do you want to do this?” asked Sahat. “Should we kick in every door until we find him?”
              “There are so many others around,” Bromm complained. “I’d hate to start a fight with just the three of us here.”
              Sahat cast a skeptical eye to Ilune, clearly objecting to the number. “How do we sniff him out, then?” he asked.
              As Bromm considered, a whore descended the stairs beside them and caught their attention. Like Ilune, she was young, beautiful, and naked. However, this girl was tawny-skinned and dark of hair, with rich brown nipples pierced by golden rings. She smiled at them as she passed them on the stairs, pulling a flimsy dress over her head as she walked. Sahat licked his lips as his eyes passed over her smooth round butt and Bromm felt his breeches tighten at the waist. 
              “Perhaps we could ask her,” Sahat mused as she climbed down the stairs, her little breasts bouncing on her frame with each step.
              “I have a better idea,” Bromm replied. He took Ilune by the arm and led her to the first door, where he knocked. After a pause, a man opened it just a crack. His annoyed expression turned curious when he saw the naked girl standing there.
              “Is Nabbu in here?” Bromm asked with an arm on Ilune’s shoulder. The man at the door opened it wider, affording Bromm a view of those in the room.
              “Well, hello there,” the man crooned, but Bromm pulled Ilune back.
              “Apologies, wrong door,” he said quickly and moved toward the next one. Looking back, he saw the man staring after them lustily. They went from door to door along the hall until at last one opened wide and Bromm saw Nabbu sitting at a table with four others. 
              Nabbu sat up in recognition at the sight of Ilune.
              “Have you brought her back, sailor?” he demanded, but Bromm pushed her aside and stepped into the room. The man at the door protested and tried to shut the door on him, but the efforts of Sahat and Bromm thwarted him.
              “Zyrdun,” Bromm demanded, “where is he?”
              “What do you want with him?” Nabbu shot back, rising to his feet. “You’ve already taken his money and his slut, do you want his ship?”
              “He tried to kill me last night,” Bromm snarled. “And now you’ll tell me where to find him.”
              Nabbu went for his sword and the room burst in action. Bromm heard Ilune squeak in fright, but his attention was fixed on Nabbu’s swordarm. He charged the man, bowling him over the couch and crashing into the wall hard enough he feared them might break through to the far side. The others went for their weapons, but Sahat was quicker. His shamshir flashed in the room’s lantern light and he laid it against the throat of Nabbu’s doorman. 
              “Lay down your arms!” he snapped. Bromm wrestled with Nabbu for control of the blade, half out of its sheath. He laid his elbow against Nabbu’s neck and leaned on it. The man snarled and spat at him as Bromm drove the point into his throat. His eyes bulged and spittle dripped from his mouth. Nabbu butted his head at Bromm, but the force of the elbow against his throat held him back from making hard contact and Bromm smiled a wolf’s grin in reply. 
              Nabbu’s grip began to weaken, and Bromm yanked the sword from its sheath. It clattered to the floor and Bromm led Nabbu fall to the couch. 
              “Where is Zyrdun?” he demanded. He planted his boot on Nabbu’s back and pressed. The man coughed and sputtered, feeling the effects of an elbow to the throat.
              “I won’t forget this…” he wheezed.
              “Have you forgotten your captain’s location? Tell me and I’ll let you and your men walk out of here.”
              “To the depths with you, Bromm! I’ll cut you up and feed you to the sharks!”
              Bromm drew his blade and put the edge to Nabbu’s ear. “You don’t seem to be hearing me very well. Seems like these aren’t of much use to you. Maybe I ought to relieve you of the extra weight.”
              “You don’t scare me, boy,” Nabbu snarled. Bromm pressed down with the blade. He thought of Eanmasor, gutted like a fish in his borrowed bed. If that had been him instead, would Zyrdun have taken Ilune back with him? Or perhaps the bitter, jealous visling would have killed her as well? The visling would need to be dealt with.
              His blade was beginning to draw blood. He saw Nabbu gritting his teeth in pain and pressed down harder with both boot and blade. A line of bright red blood trickled down the man’s cheek to his chin. The other three men looked on powerlessly, Sahat’s shamshir shining wickedly in the light.
              “For Enki’s sake, Nabbu! Zyrdun can handle himself against these wretches. Save your ear and tell him!”
              Nabbu snarled in reply. Bromm leaned in close. “Your captain can handle me alright,” he sneered. “Give him to me and we’ll have ourselves a little duel, aye?” When the man did not reply, Bromm grabbed his ear and pulled it taut for a final slice.
              “Alright!” Nabbu cried at last. 
              “Oh, now his ears work,” Bromm laughed. “Speak. Where is this captain of yours?”
              “He’s at the Foundry, getting us new guns for the Kraken.”
              “How many men did he bring with him?” demanded Bromm. Nabbu grimaced and hesitated, so Bromm stretched his ear tighter against the edge of the saber until he cried out in pain.
              “Just a few! But more than enough to kill you and take his woman back.”
              “Hmm,” Bromm mused, letting the ear go. “We’ll see about that.” He turned to Sahat, who gave him a shrug of bemused triumph.
              “That’s all we needed,” Sahat said. “Shall we?” Bromm nodded and look to Nabbu’s unfortunate companions, then back to the man under his boot.
              “It shouldn’t take me long to get there. But just in case you’re lying to me, or you try to get there first, I’m going to keep you here until I get back. Sahat, cord!”
              Sahat handed over a length of fine cord that the savvy sailor always kept with him and together they bound the men tightly on the floor of the little room. He tore up one of the Mariner’s serving towels and stuffed the rags into their mouths so that they could not cry out. Bromm stepped back and smiled at his handiwork.
              “Now, we’ll be seeing you soon. And hopefully it won’t be to cut off your ears and learn the real location of your captain. Be seeing you!”
              Nabbu stared fury around his gag but could do nothing as Bromm and Sahat left the door and shut the door behind them. 
              “Should we gather more men?” asked Sahat. “Pyet went to the Crow’s Nest for a dice game this morning, he may still be nearby. We could pick him up on the way to the Foundry.”
              “If he’s there,” Bromm agreed, “But we mustn’t lose Zyrdun before he disappears back into the crowds of the city. With his money running out, he’s likely to leave in search of more plunder soon. Or come back to finish the job right.” He looked down the hall in both directions. “Where is Ilune?” he asked with sudden worry.
              “She must’ve run off when you started cutting on the snake Nabbu.”
              “Look that way, I’ll look this way,” Bromm commanded. “Hurry!”
              He and Sahat hurried away in separate directions through the hall. Bromm could not spot Ilune at any of the gamblers’ tables, and feared she had been pulled away into one of the rooms, or else taken off on her own. He feared for her prospects, naked and alone in a city overrun by victory-drunk pirates. He checked the doors for any sign that they might have been opened to admit her, though he had to admit to himself that he did not know what those signs might be. 
              To his relief, he found her at a table down the hall, standing before a brawny, gray-skinned orc. Two more pirates were seated across from the orc, smoking pipes as they admired Ilune. She seemed to be enjoying the attention as she turned and stroked her long hair in two hands before them. The pipe-smoking men were glassy-eyed and lethargic, yet their eyes were no less lusty than their sober companion.
              Bromm stomped his foot on the floor to draw their attention, and Ilune started in surprise. The orc glared at him, but his companions stared glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. With his saber in one hand, Bromm held out a hand toward Ilune.
              “Come, girl,” he commanded. The orc turned a hostile eye on Bromm and half-rose from his seat.
              “Who are you?” he growled, towering head and shoulders over the girl. Bromm raised his saber halfway.
              “Her master. Who are you to take my concubine for yourself?”
              “Take? I merely asked her to join us at our table. I admire her body so.”
              Bromm scowled, but Ilune stepped close to him and laid a pleading hand on his chest. 
              “Please don’t be angry master. I tried to get away from where you were arguing with Nabbu, and Garaz found me in the hall. He just wanted to admire my body, master.”
              “Aye,” the orc agreed. “She is a beautiful girl you have there.”
              “She is mine,” Bromm agreed, laying a protective hand on her shoulder. He stared suspiciously at the orc, who raised a placating hand.
              “We meant no offense. Our eyes are harmless. Though if you are amenable, I would gladly pay for some time alone with her. Not much time,” he joked, “for it won’t take long for her to make me come.”
              Bromm clutched Ilune to him closely and glared hard at the orc. “Find someone else,” he snapped before turning and leading Ilune away. He hurried toward the stairs with Ilune under his arm and his sword still in hand, only stopping when he was out of sight of the orc.
              “Don’t run off like that,” he said when they were away. Ilune’s eyes were downcast in shame, and she nodded sadly. Bromm felt his anger subsiding. “I am not angry with you,” he said, gently stroking her hair. “I was just afraid I had lost you. This is a dangerous city.”
              “I was not afraid of Garaz, master. I liked being admired, actually. He is… grotesque, but in an appealing way. His muscles…”
              “We should go,” Bromm interrupted. Images of the girl being harshly fucked by the big, muscly orc sprang unbidden into his mind and he could not banish them easily. Sahat had found them again and Bromm took it as his cue to leave. Ilune nodded obediently and he ushered her down the stairs and out of the Mariner.
              Bromm cast a wary look behind him as they exited the tavern, but caught no sight of the orc, just a handful of other sailors ogling Ilune as they passed by. Sahat took the lead as they wound through the back streets toward the Crow’s Nest, a seedy tavern in the area of the city known as the Buckets. Here the buildings hung high overhead and even at the height of midday, the streets were narrow and dim, though thankfully free of the masses of drunken sailors that plagued the main thoroughfares. Peddlers and shifty characters peered out at them from shadows, their eyes on Ilune, who was taking more confidence in her nakedness now. She smiled to herself as men’s gazes followed her down the alleys, her cheeks redness apparent even in the dim light.
              They arrived outside the Crow’s Nest to find it a raucous scene. Sailors hung over the upper balcony, drinking, singing, and banging on the tables in time with the song as best they could manage in their drunken state. A few beleaguered servers moved between them, desperate not to get too drawn into the revelry. A topless whore sat in the middle of the balcony, surrounded by a knot of angry sailors. Fists were shaking between them, and as Bromm watched, a punch was thrown and soon the sailors were brawling. Other sailors jumped in and, while they were distracted, two previously uninvolved sailors swooped in and escorted the whore away to a bed.
              Bromm stopped across the street, peering up at the balcony from a hidden perch in the alley. 
“I don’t want to take Ilune in there,” Bromm said. “It’ll cause a riot.”
              Sahat nodded with slight amusement. “Good idea. I’ll find Pyet and bring him out. You two wait here.”
Bromm and Ilune slipped into a recess in the alley as Sahat crossed the street to the tavern. Out of sight, Bromm took the opportunity to fondle Ilune’s young body in the shadows. Her supple flesh was soft and smooth in his hands, and she purred with delight as he ran his hands all over her.
              “Touch me, master,” she whispered. Bromm felt his heart flutter. He wanted to yank down his breeches and fuck her here in the alley, but the thought of being discovered by rowdy pirates from the Crow’s Nest dissuaded him. Yet the sight of her was enthralling.
              “I need to get you some clothes,” he muttered. Ilune blushed.
              “It’s not so bad, actually,” she replied quietly. “I am beginning to enjoy the way men look at me. I hated when Zyrdun showed me off like a pretty jewel. He was cruel and liked to torment me, pinching and spanking me. He made me crawl naked along the deck of his ship while his men stroked their cocks at the sight of it… it was demeaning.”
              Bromm looked on her with pity and pull her close into a protective embrace. He felt his anger rise and knew that killing the visling would be all the sweeter for the revenge. 
              “But you…” Ilune continued softly. “With you, it’s different. You are kind, master. You make me feel beautiful.”
              “You are beautiful,” Bromm admitted. “But not everyone is as kind as I am.” He thought of the orc at the Mariner. “You must be careful with men, especially here in Torvuls. They all want to fuck you, and only some are generous enough to ask first.”
              “But you will keep me safe, yes?” she asked. Bromm nodded, holding her tighter. 
              “Stay close to me, and I’ll keep you safe, girl.”
              Looking toward the Nest, he saw Sahat emerge with Pyet and the young sailhand Kainan in tow. They crossed the street, dodging thrown debris from the brawl upstairs, and gathered in the alley. Pyet cast an approving look over Ilune, who smiled shyly back at him.
              “This is the girl you won from Zyrdun?” he asked. Bromm glowered at him, heated with sudden jealousy.
              “From the murderer, yes,” he replied.
              “Aye, sad business that. What’s the plan?” Pyet asked with an easy shrug. He wore a pistol and a thick saber on his belt, which he adjusted in expectation of violence. Kainan was a nervous lad, not Bromm’s first choice for this sort of thing, but the one he had. The young man was slender, tanned and fair-haired, and wore a pitted and dented broadsword at his hip, but his pistol holster was empty.
              “He’s at the Foundry, so we’ll post up in the street and wait. He should come out the front, he isn’t expecting anything. But I want to see his eyes when I kill him, so don’t shoot him from an alley.”
              “Sounds like a good way to lose the element of surprise and get yourself killed,” Sahat grumbled. Bromm shrugged.
              “I think I can handle him. But if anything happens, make sure Ilune is safe. And then get her some clothes.”
              “Do I get to be captain if you die?” Pyet asked cheerfully and Bromm shrugged again.
              “Sure, why not? Just don’t wreck the ship, I’m somewhat fond of it now.”
              “Why does he get to be captain?” Sahat asked. “I’m the most experienced sailor of all of us. Besides, you promised me a ship someday.”
              “Well, once I’m dead, you two can fight it out. But before then, we’ve got a visling to kill. Come on.”
Bromm forged on through the alleys with his crewmen and slave girl in tow. The way to the Foundry was winding and tortuous, and soon they began to smell the soot from the ever-burning furnaces. The streets here were coated in black ash, which began to build up on their boots and Ilune’s bare feet. Once Zyrdun is dead, I’ll take her to the baths and wash off her pretty little feet. That will make a good place to fuck her again, he mused with a wry smile. 
              Ahead, the alley broadened onto a boulevard known as Westgate, after the gate where it terminated. They were not far from the jewelers’ shop where he had first met Eanmasor so many days ago. That seems fitting, Bromm thought to himself as he posted up at the mouth of the alley and looked up and down Westgate. Enki has seen fit to bring me full circle on this affair. He checked his pistols and nodded grimly to the others.
              “Pyet, you and Kainan head up the street so he can’t get out that way. Sahat and I will wait here. If he runs, cut him down. But otherwise, leave him to me.”
              “We’ll make sure Eanmasor rests easily, captain.” Pyet and the anxious lad at his side moved off up Westgate. Bromm slipped himself into a recess in the alley to wait. The boulevard was busy even in the early afternoon, with carts bringing fresh iron ore and charcoal up from the wharf, merchants moving wares to West Market, and a work crew from the Temple of Askallon sweeping the streets.
              Bromm waited impatiently with Ilune by his side in the growing afternoon heat. As he watched the people on the street, he grew to appreciate his shaded position even more. 
              At last, he saw a party of men emerge from the Foundry’s front entrance. The bronze-skinned visling stood between five of his crew men, shaking hands with the owner as they bid each other goodbye. Zyrdun turned onto the street and began strolling leisurely in Bromm’s direction.
              “Here we go,” Bromm hissed to Sahat. He anxiously checked his pistol again and drew his blade, but a hand caught his arm. Ilune looked up to him, concern in her green eyes.
              “Be careful, master,” she pleaded. Bromm smiled and kissed her cheek.
              “Do not worry,” he soothed. “I will be alright. Stay here.”
              The visling was nearing his alley, and Bromm turned from the naked slave girl to step boldly into the street with Sahat in tow. Zyrdun stopped suddenly perhaps ten paces from him, his lips curling into a sneer. The visling’s small fangs were bared.
              “Surprised to see me?” Bromm sneered. Zyrdun’s men went for their blades, and behind them Bromm could see Pyet and Kainan approaching with their own weapons ready. The street crowds parted around the confrontation, but otherwise traffic flowed around them unperturbed. Street fights were a usual occurrence in Torvuls, especially these past few weeks.
              “I suppose I am,” Zyrdun sneered. His lips curled, baring the visling’s small white fangs. His eyes darted past Bromm to the alley mouth, where Ilune ducked away out of sight. “You brought my former slave girl to taunt me?”
              “I brought myself to taunt you,” Bromm replied. “You failed in your dark errand.”
              “What are you talking about, boy? The girl is a pretty one, but this city abounds with beautiful girls I can have for a coin or three. I begrudge you nothing. The jewels were more of a loss, to speak the truth.”
              “You begrudge me much, for you tried to kill me,” Bromm accused with a thrust of his saber. The visling’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But, not knowing that I had lent my bed to Eanmasor, you snuck into the room in the dead of night and stabbed the wrong man!”
              “I know nothing of this,” Zyrdun replied. “I bear you little ill will, and none to Eanmasor. I have sailed with him, drank with him, shared women with him before, and we have gone our separate ways without bad blood.”
              “Yet you feel no regret?” Bromm challenged. This was not proceeding as he had expected it to. The visling showed more confusion at the accusation than at Bromm’s survival. 
              “Regret for something I did not do? Eanmasor will be missed, though to tell the truth, he was past his prime. It was likely a matter of time before he was killed, whether on a raid or by one of his many enemies. He has become cranky and quarrelsome in his old age.”
              “You deny your deed, then?” Bromm demanded. The visling gave him an exasperated shake of the head.
              “I did nothing. After I left the Nymph last night, I went to an orgy at the palace of the merchant Halakar, where we discussed his plans for capturing monsters on the Wild Isle. This is his man here, come to outfit my ship for the journey.”
              A man stepped forward, his rapier clutched in one hand that bore a ring engraved with Halakar’s signet. Bromm looked at it skeptically.
              “A likely story,” he replied slowly.
              “Pardon, master,” he heard Ilune call from the alley. “But he speaks truly.”
              Bromm turned half toward her as she emerged from the alley. She shuffled toward him, her arms around her chest and her eyes downcast as Zyrdun studied her with lust.
              “Master Zyrdun discussed his plans to meet with the merchant in front of me. He… wished to exhibit me at the orgy and charge men a gold crown to fuck me.”
              “My lost slave does me a final service,” Zyrdun laughed. “You do not easily forsake your master, girl. I like that about you. Bromm, I offer a gold crown to fuck her one last time in the alley. You can watch, if you like.”
              Bromm turned a glower toward the visling. “Thank you, Ilune, for your information.” The girl bowed and hurried back to the alley. Zyrdun watched her go, his eyes lingering on her butt.
              “So you believe me?” the visling asked with a smug smile. Bromm felt his anger rise and thought to just kill the arrogant bastard here and now. 
              “I suppose I do,” he muttered. He lowered his sword point and looked past the visling to Pyet, then shook his head. “Be off with you, Zyrdun. We have nothing more to discuss.”
              “Very well,” the visling said, puffing out his chest and thrusting his thumbs through his belt. He glowered down his nose at Bromm, but then his expression softened. “I will say a prayer at Kanaron’s temple for Eanmasor. I would have wished him a few more years of drinking sweet wines and fucking pretty young girls before his time, but Enki does as Enki does. Goodbye, Bromm. And remember my offer. A gold crown!”
              The visling squared his shoulders and marched away. Bromm watched with disappointment.
              “You’re letting him go?!” Pyet asked as he and Kainan jogged up. Bromm grimaced.
              “I believe him. He didn’t kill Eanmasor. Nor was he trying to kill me.”
              “So, who did?” Sahat asked. Bromm shook his head.
              “I am not sure.”
              “Could it have been the smugglers?” Kainan asked suddenly. “Maybe they found out where our spice came from?”
              “No,” Sahat said firmly. “They are oblivious, that I know. I’ve had my ear on the city’s scuttlebutt since we put into port, and the White Wind are none the wiser as to who did in their ship. But that might change if certain boys keep running their fucking mouths, Kainan.”
              “Apologies, certain,” the boy replied. “I was only looking out for the captain.”
              “I appreciate it, Kainan,” Bromm said, thought he was half lost in thought. Zyrdun had said Eanmasor had many enemies. “Perhaps they were not here for me after all. Eanmasor was a jovial man most of the time, but he had a temper, he was slow to pay his debts, and was a known cheat. Last night he mentioned he had to settle a debt with the guild. Perhaps the guild settled the debt first.”
              “The Spicers’ Guild?” asked Pyet. “If he had crossed them, they would have sent a bloodier warning.”
              “No, he mentioned the name Haben. I know a Haben at the Thieves’ Guild. He is a fence, exactly the kind of man someone like Eanmasor would come to know.”
              “Let’s see about this Haben then,” suggested Sahat.
              “Not yet,” Bromm countered.
              “You want to get the girl some clothes first?” Pyet prompted, but Bromm took one look at Ilune smiling at him in the nude and shook his head.
              “Not that. Zyrdun’s men back at the Mariner. Sahat, go release them before they swear a blood oath against us. We might avoid a feud that crew just yet.”
              Sahat sighed. “It would be easier to slit their throats and be done with it, but I will do as you say. Where should I meet you when I’m done?”
              “Back at the Nymph. We’ll pay a visit to Haben and meet you there. Kainan, go with Sahat. The men might be… annoyed at us. He could use the help.”
              “And you’ll be alright with just the two of you and the girl?”
              “Aye, we’ll manage. See you soon.”
              Without waiting for the reply, Bromm set off toward Haben’s shop. Outside the Foundry, they had seen the crowds at their lowest ebb of the day, but now, as the afternoon wore on, the streets grew increasingly crowded. Ilune’s nudity drew many eyes now, as men grew hot from the afternoon sun and retired to rooftops and storefronts to peoplewatch from the shade. Hundreds of pairs of eyes studied her as they passed by and Bromm felt his jealousy rising again. Yet at the same time, he felt proud. He had something everyone wanted, and only he could decide who could have her. He thought to pimp her, but no gold could overcome his own selfish desire to have her all to himself.               The afternoon heat dampened the lusts of the crowd, but Bromm still heard a few catcalls as they passed by a winesink near the House of Silk. He thought to call back at the man, to advise him to go into the brothel and have a woman instead of calling to someone else’s woman in the street, but he decided against picking a fight in the street. Instead, he took the catcalls as a compliment to Ilune’s beauty. Looking over to her his shoulder, he saw her smiling to herself. Bromm could not suppress his own smile.
 
              Haben’s shop was set in the courtyard of a towering apartment building built in the style of an Auric insula. To reach it, Bromm and his companions had to pass through a low archway facing the street crowded on either side by other storefronts. In the courtyard, Bromm looked around and spied a trio of sentries posted casually at the windows. At the elbow of one sentry was the muzzle of an arquebus, and Bromm began to reconsider picking a fight with Haben here. He was familiar enough to the sentry that a familiar eye passed over Bromm without reaction. 
But when Ilune appeared, the sentry’s eyebrows rose. He leaned forward in the window and whistled down at her. Ilune blushed, and Bromm frowned.
              “Bromm, my old friend!” called a voice from the back of the courtyard and from the shaded awning emerged Haben. The fence was a rotund, jovial man with long brown hair flowing down his back. He brushed aside a servant as he stepped out into the sunny center of the yard. “What brings you to me today? Have you been sharing in this recent run of good fortune?”
              “I have and have not,” Bromm answered cautiously. Haben’s eyes went past him to Ilune and the fence’s smile broadened. 
              “Who is this lovely creature? Have you pulled a nereid from the sea to walk among us in all her naked glory?”
              “No. This is Ilune. I won her at cards.”
              “An interesting way to come into a concubine, but not unique,” Haben mused. “What brings you to me? Perhaps you are looking for some jewelry to hang about her neck? I can help you with that.”
              “No, Haben. Can we sit?” Bromm indicated a bench and the fence obliged. Bromm seated himself across from Haben, hands on his knees. He studied him for a long moment, and the man seemed to grow uneasy.
              “What’s this all about, Bromm?”
              “Eanmasor, captain of the Wanderer. You know him?”
              “I do,” Haben answered. “What about him?”
              “He was stabbed to death last night. In my bed.”
              “I didn’t know you were the type, what with this and all,” he waved to Ilune. Bromm scowled in annoyance.
              “I wasn’t fucking him, Haben. I was upstairs in a nicer suite, with her. Eanmasor had too much to drink and I lent him my old room to sleep it off. I thought he was killed by someone who mistook him for me, but now I think that he might have been the intended target after all.”
              "A shame, he was a reliable source of goods,” Haben replied with a fatalistic shrug. “Such is the life we lead, right?”
              “He said he owed you money,” Bromm accused mildly. Haben laughed.
              “So that is why you’re here!” He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I didn’t kill him, my friend. And I’m a little insulted that you would think I would. If he’s dead, he can’t pay me back, can he?”
              “He mentioned being late on his payments. I thought you might have given up on him and decided to send a message to other debtors.”
              “There’s no need.” Haben snapped his fingers and the servant he had brushed aside produced a heavy ledger from Haben’s shop and carried it to him. “His first mate Kynas came by late last night and settled the debt. It was a good thing, too. I was a few days away from sending this minotaur I know to break his fingers.”
              The servant laid the book out on the bench next to Bromm and pointed to an entry in the ledger that confirmed Haben’s story. Eanmasor, 9th Day of Plenty, debt settled. Bromm frowned in disappointment.
              “My apologies, Haben, I…”
              “It’s a cruel world out there, Bromm. I hate to say it, but it’s not the first time I’ve been accused of murdering an associate. I’m not so old, so I expect it won’t be the last, either.”
              “Well, now I admit that I’m at a loss for who else might have done it,” Bromm sighed. Haben raised an eyebrow at him.
              “As it so happens, last time I spoke to him, he was dodging the hired help of a madame from the Lotus. Daraine, I believe? He had offended her on some matter, and she was out to get her revenge.”
              “A madame?” Bromm wondered aloud. Offending a madame did seem like something in Eanmasor’s repertoire. They had encountered some resistance at the House of Silk, where the madame had demanded they pay in gold coins, then scrutinized every coin herself. Apparently Eanmasor’s reputation as a cheat did not stop at cards. 
              “A madame indeed. I don’t not investigate the issue further, but Eanmasor seemed to take his precautions seriously.”
              “He was not hiding when I met him,” Bromm said aloud. He rubbed his chin in thought. “It seems as good a place as any to look next.” He stood up. “Thank you for your aid, Haben. And again, I’m sorry about accusing you.”
              “As mildly as you did, it was an accusation,” Haben agreed. He stood up as well, and extended a hand to Bromm. “Bring me something nice to sell and we’ll call it even. And watch yourself out there. I’d hate to lose another source of rare objects.”
              “I’ll be careful,” Bromm promised, though they both knew it was a lie. He turned back to Ilune and Pyet and shrugged. “To the Lotus next.”
              “I like the sound of that,” Pyet said with a smile. They exited the courtyard and made toward Palace Hill, where the Black Lotus rose about the great market. 
              Nestled amid verdant gardens, the Lotus was the city’s most famous attraction and perhaps the most famous brothel in all the world. Wealthy patricians sometimes came from as far away as the Imperial City to engage in debauched revels in the Lotus’ halls. The slave markets of the city kept the Lotus stocked with the most beautiful women, and when pirates put into port with money to spend, they swarmed the Lotus in droves. 
              They wound their way up a stair carved into the side of Palace Hill to reach the west side of the Black Lotus, next to the Captain’s House, a famous tavern where Bromm and Eanmasor had played dice the night before and lost a small fortune. The magnificent pleasure palace’s front faced the storied Dolphin’s Square, which was presently thronged with sailors well into their drinks.
              As they passed through the square, Bromm caught a whiff of a street vendor’s stall and realized he was hungry again. They stopped for dumplings from a food cart where the cook eyed Ilune so much he spilled boiling water on himself and yelped. Bromm tried to hide his smile as he took his dumplings from the scalded cook. Ilune took her own and blushed as they ate. 
              They ate leaning against the Lotus’ outer fence. Ilune drew stares and catcalls from passersby, but Bromm’s attention was drawn to her feet, still sooty from their walk through the Foundry’s neighborhood. The Black Lotus would be able to attend to that. He stuffed his last dumpling into his mouth and stood up.
              “Come,” he said around a mouthful of dough, vegetables, and pork. He extended a hand to Ilune and pulled her alongside him toward the Lotus’ entrance. A raucous band of sailors emerged headed in the other direction. Red cheeks and bloodshot eyes foretold of the reek of alcohol that accompanied them, and they as one fixed their eyes on Ilune.
              “Hey, girl!” they cheered, rushing toward her, “Hey, naked girl, looking for a good time?”
              Bromm shoved the lead man backwards and he drunkenly fell into his companions. 
              “Who are you?!” the man slurred as he rose to his feet again. 
              “Her master,” Bromm replied with a hand on his saber. “Now get out of here.”
              “Just looking to give the girl a bit of fun,” one of the other men muttered, but the drunken louts dispersed without further trouble. Bromm turned to Ilune and saw her cheeks were flushed.
              “I need to get you some clothes,” he sighed. “We’ll stop by a tailor’s after this.”
              She nodded meekly and followed him into the Black Lotus. They were halted at the entrance by a pair of towering orcs who relieved them of their weapons before admitting the trio to the Lotus’ common room. A great chandelier of brass and crystal hung from the ceiling, itself painted with a majestic scene of an orgy featuring the gods and heroes of legend. Bromm had been inside this storied pleasure palace many times, yet always stopped to stare at this scene, especially the central depiction of Nystra, Goddess of Pleasure. 
              The Lady of Tits and Wine was being fucked by four storied heroes at once, two cocks in her mouth and one in each of her other holes while a fifth man held her long golden hair up from her naked back and stroked his own cock in anticipation of fucking her himself. All around them, Nystra’s nymphs danced and fucked men, satyrs, and dwarves in a garden of pleasure.
              The walls were similarly painted with frescoes of nude men and women dancing, drinking, bathing, fucking, and relaxing with each other. In many places, these frescoes were marred with the handprints of the Lotus’ patrons and staff who had been fucked against these walls. The floor of the common room was taken up by many heavy oaken tables now crowded with patrons and whores alike. Three beautiful redheaded girls danced naked on a table at the center of the room, their bare feet showed in coins from a raucous, drunken crowd. Topless, nude, or scantily clad waitresses moved between the tables, dodging groping hands as they delivered drinks to the thirsty masses. 
              Bromm looked past the rowdy circus toward a door on the far side that led out of the common room and to the madames’ offices where they showed girls to clients. With Ilune pressed between them, Bromm and Pyet made their way across the packed common room toward the door. Drunken men reached out to grab her and had their hands slapped away, men dancing on the tables or the floor narrowly missed them with flailing limbs, and a hurled mug of beer broke open nearby and soaked Bromm’s shirt. 
              But at last they reached the door and fell through it in relief. They were in a narrow hallway that led to small offices where the Lotus’ clerks worked. To one side, they could see through an open door was to a small sitting room. Dark red couches lined the walls, facing a thick carpet. Bromm knew this room well, for this was where he often sat while a madame paraded naked beauties before him for his selection. 
              From one of the offices emerged a clerk, a mousy young man in a gray shirt and black pants. 
              “Sir?” he inquired with a raised eyebrow.
              “I would like to see Daraine,” Bromm said. “It is about a debt that a friend of mine owes.”
              “Very well, sir. Take a seat in this office and I will find her. It is a busy time for the madams, so please be patient.” He looked at Ilune’s feet and the faint sooty footprint behind her on the hall’s floor. “And I will have a slave bring some water.”
              They sat in silence for a time, Ilune in Bromm’s lap and Pyet idling playing with his empty scabbard. Through the closed door, they could hear the tumult of the common room. Men were singing, shouting, and banging on the tables. Bromm heard something thud against the walls, whether a fist, body, or thrown drink he did not know. After a time, a slave arrived with a bowl of water and washed Ilune’s feet. The girl smiled fondly down at her pink feet as the black soot was washed away, and Bromm embraced her in his lap with a kiss.
              The madame appeared at the door. She was a middle-aged woman, once beautiful but now aged by great weight she had gained around her waist. She was dressed in a gown of rich blue trimmed with gold lace, and her graying hair hidden by a lace headdress. Her fat waist shook as she padded into the room on velvet slippers and sat herself down opposite Bromm.
              “I am Daraine. You are here about a debt, sir?” she asked coolly. Her eyes roamed over Bromm and Pyet, then over Ilune and she raised a curious eyebrow. The slave bowed to the her and then retreated from the room without a word.
              “I am,” Bromm replied as the slave disappeared. “For my friend Eanmasor.”
              Daraine’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “You have come to settle the debt?”
              “I would inquire about it. How much di- does he owe?” Bromm had nearly used the past tense of the word and given himself away, he realized.
              “Twelve crowns, and a penalty for paying late. And running out.”
              “Twelve crowns? What did he buy here?”
              “A shirt and shoes,” the madame answered acidly. “This is a brothel, what do you think he bought?”
Bromm rolled his eyes, thinking of the vast array of pleasures that the Lotus offered, from whores to wine to theater shows. Eanmasor must have done something to really anger this woman.
              “What costs twelve crowns here?” Bromm asked, trying not to return the woman’s venom. She seemed to perk up, expecting to make a sale.
              “More than when he was here. With all the money flowing around this city, the Lotus has been asking for more than it used to. But your friend Eanmasor bought a night in our most lavish suite with our most exotic beauty. He drank fine wines from the queen’s own vineyards and spiced meats imported from Sostrum. And yet when it came time to pay, he offered only clipped coins. He insisted that he had been cheated, of course, but that is not my problem. And when I sent my orcs to chastise him, he fled out the window and left me with nothing.”
              “Clipped coins are still coins,” Bromm pointed out, but the madame scoffed.
              “He cheated me. Have you come to settle his debt, or just to mock me?”
              “I have come to inquire,” Bromm said again. “What is the penalty if he does not pay?”
              The madame’s eyes narrowed and her face darkened. “You think to help him get away with it? I have more guards than those two at the door. They will find him eventually. He’s a wily one, Ill grant you. He might spend much time at sea, but eventually he will put into port again and I will get my money. And no sailor can stay away from Torvuls forever.”
              “Unless they’re dead,” Bromm suggested. She tilted her head slightly to one side.
              “I thought you were a friend,” she said slowly.
              “I am. Or was. Eanmasor was murdered last night, in a room I lent him. I thought the killer had come for me, but now I think that he was indeed the actual target.”
              “Dead,” Daraine mused, settled back in her chair. “Damn it all, he did get away with it.”
              “So it was not you who killed him,” Bromm muttered with disappointment.
              “Indeed no,” Daraine sighed. 
              “Well, now I’m all out of ideas,” Bromm grumbled.
              “Perhaps I can offer you a salve for your disappointment, then. You would like to know what cost him the twelve crowns?”
              “What do you suggest?”
              “I suggest that you take the whore he bedded up to the room he fucked in and drink the wine he drank. After paying up front, of course.”
              “How much?” Bromm asked cautiously.
              “Fifteen crowns,” she said firmly. “Prices are rising faster than cocks in this city, so be grateful. I could charge twice as much as still find men willing to pay.”
              Bromm furrowed his brow in thought. Fifteen crowns would have been a fortune to him just a month ago, but now that he was flush with gold and jewels, it seemed a mere pittance. And the thought of experiencing whatever Eanmasor had paid twelve crowns for was enticing. He looked to Ilune. The girl had enjoyed fucking him, how would she handle adding another girl?
              “You’ll have your fifteen crowns,” he said, rising from the chair to stand with Ilune in front of him. Daraine smiled. 
              “Excellent.” She snapped her fingers and a servant appeared at the door. “Bring in Sai,” she commanded.               “And a bottle of the Narosian red.”
              Pyet stood up from his seat and Daraine raised her hand. “I am sorry, my girls are my business. At this price, I will only allow one man at a time.”
              “That’s quite alright,” Pyet said, “I had something else in mind. Captain, if there isn’t to be a fight, you don’t need me.”
              “Aye,” Bromm agreed, “Go back to the Nymph and tell Sahat---”
              “Actually, there are some beauties here that need my attention. I’ve got all this coin burning a hole in my pocket and…”
              “Oh, alright. Get your cock wet and I’ll meet you at the Nymph when we’re both done.”
              “Madame,” Pyet said with a slight bow, “Perhaps you might get me acquainted with some of your other girls?”
              “Of course,” she cooed, now all ready to make a sale. “Let me set you up in the show room and bring some beauties by for you to choose from.”
              She ushered Pyet through the door and into the brothel’s showroom, while Bromm and Ilune waited behind. After a moment, Daraine reappeared, leading another girl by the hand. She was fair-skinned with dark brown hair. Her big, deep, dark brown eyes were almond-shaped, with the epicanthic folds of an easterner and rimmed in black make-up. The strong scent of sweet perfume flowed into the room with her. She wore a robe of garishly dyed silk, blue with flowers and butterflies in all the colors of the world. Bromm felt his breath catch in his throat and his cock tightened against his breeches. Here is a girl worth fifteen crowns, he thought to himself. 
              The madame looked to Bromm and he saw a slight smile creep onto her face for she knew she had made a sale. She squared the girl’s shoulders and puffed out her own chest.
              “This is Sai, the Eastern Flower. Our more expensive girl.”
              “I am pleased to meet you,” said Sai in a soft voice, slightly accented with the foreign tones that Bromm only rarely heard on the quays of the world. Eastern girls were rare, and Bromm had known only a rare handful. 
              “Fifteen crowns,” Daraine demanded. “And I can keep your slave company. I’ll even turn her out to the guests and cut you in for half. The Lotus is overwhelmed these past weeks and we could always use the help.”
Bromm was so lost in Sai’s eyes that he took some time to realize what Daraine was saying and when he finally did, he tightened her grip around Ilune.
              “The girl stays with me,” he said with heat in his voice. “I won’t have any other man touch her.”
              “Suit yourself,” the madame sighed. She held out her hand. “My fifteen crowns? Or would you like to see more of Sai?”
              Bromm reached for his purse and fished out fifteen crowns. Without meeting the madame’s eyes, he slapped them into her open palm and pulled Sai close.
              “A pleasure doing business with you,” Daraine purred as she pocketed the money. “I have prepared a suite for you on the top floor and wine is being brought up as we speak. I can show you the way, if you wish?”
              “Lead on,” Bromm said without taking his eyes off Sai. The eastern girl fluttered her eyelids at him as he took her hand. With Sai under one arm and Ilune under the other, he followed Daraine out of the little office.
              The adjacent room was a showroom, where Pyet sat on a cushioned divan watching as another madame paraded a line of naked, beautiful young men and women before him. The other sailor was so enraptured that he did not even look up as Bromm passed by.
              Following Daraine, the three of them ascended a varnished wooden staircase to the highest floor of the Lotus. They were in a thickly carpeted hall where the thunderous celebrations that boomed throughout the rest of the palace were muffled to a low mumble. The doors lining the hall were shut, though he could faintly hear the moaning of women through the nearest one. Bromm smiled to himself. His boots sinking into the thick carpet, he tailed the madame to the door of a lavish suite. Daraine pushed open the door with a welcoming smile.
              “Your bed awaits you,” she swept an arm across his view of the suite and Bromm stepped inside. Even more lavish than his suite at the Nymph, the suite was floored with polished hardwood from the Amazon Isles and the walls painted with scenes of an orgy like that downstairs. On the ceiling, nymphs frolicked in the nude, joined by blessed men with their cocks hard and ready. The room’s bed was draped in silken sheets beneath a velvet canopy and the pillows looked soft enough to drown in. Two marble topped cabinets held bottles of wine and other liquors for their enjoyment.
              “Only the very best from the very best vineyards,” Daraine promised him. Bromm nodded, looking over the bottles. “Well,” she continued. “I will leave you to it. Nystra smile on you, captain.”
              With a beaming smile of her own, the madame shut the door and Bromm could faintly hear her footsteps fading down the carpeted hall. He poured himself a glass of wine and turned to his women. Ilune stood beside the courtesan, one arm crossed over her bare breasts and the other lowered to cover her sex with a hand. Sai, meanwhile, stood straight and proud in her beautifully dyed robe of silk, her delicate feet hidden in silken slippers. 
              Bromm sighed at the sight. They were both so beautiful. And both his, one for the night and one forever. He sipped his wine. It was sweet and dark. He knew men with refined palettes and his was not one of them, but he found the wine to his liking all the same. Probably not worth the money in poorer times, he thought to himself. 
              Savoring the expensive taste, he looked past the women, out the window. The room’s windows looked south, over the great market and the tiled rooftops of the city all the way to the crowded harbor a mile distant. Somewhere out there is the man who killed Eanmasor, he thought suddenly. And I am in here with two whores and a half dozen bottles of wine, instead of out there looking for the murderer. What am I doing?
              Sai seemed to sense his thoughts, for she approached him and laid a hand on his chest. 
              “Have you had enough wine, sir? For some men the wine makes them poor lovers, I should hope you are not one of them.”
              “Never!” Bromm replied with a derisive scoff. “I could drink the queen’s wine cellar dry and still fuck all night!”
              “Good,” the Leiyani girl replied, patting his chest. “Then perhaps sir would like to enjoy the wine and the view while I pleasure him?”
              Bromm swallowed a big gulp of wine and nodded. The girl was so beautiful and exotic, he found himself slightly flustered. She is not the first Leiyani girl I’ve fucked, he reminded himself. She is just like the others, only much more expensive, he thought with a bitter edge. He took her hand.
              “Sir would very much like that.” She smiled and knelt before him, her deft hands unlacing the front of his breeches to release his cock. Amusement and desire danced in her dark brown eyes as the member flopped into her hand and she began to stroke it. Bromm felt his breath catch. She had barely begun and he already felt like coming. 
His eyes darted away from her toward Ilune, who was standing anxiously against the room’s lavish bed. 
              “Come,” he beckoned with an outstretched hand. The blonde girl danced shyly toward him and he took her into his arms with a kiss. Her lips were soft and hot, and her touch set him quivering at least as much as the mouth around his cock. “I have not forgotten about you,” Bromm reassured his concubine in a whisper. She blushed, and her eyes dropped to the floor. Downcast, he saw them settle on his cock and the top of Sai’s head as it bobbed back and forth upon it. Bromm gave her a gentle nudge.
              “Why don’t you help her out down there?” he suggested. Ilune’s pale cheeks turned redder, but she nodded and knelt beside the courtesan. Sai offered the cock to her and, just as she had before, she eagerly swallowed it in her mouth. Bromm leaned back against the marble-topped cabinet, closing his eyes as all thought of murderers and mysteries flew from his mind. He could only think of the two mouths on his cock, and even then, thought was difficult in the throes of pleasure. 
              He drank the whole bottle of wine as he stood against the cabinet and watched the girls work. Two sets of eyes stared up at him, one warm and brown and the other cool and blue. Ilune and Sai worked the hands and tongues on his cock in concert, drawing him to the edge of climax and keeping him there until he could hold himself no more.
              “Hold!” he gasped, and retook his cock from their clutches. “I am not ready to come yet. Here, Sai, you beautiful eastern flower, stand up and kiss me.”
              She did with a smile. Bromm laid an arm around her shoulder to hold her close, drinking in the scent of her rich perfume, all while Ilune dutifully kissed and caressed his cock below. Bromm stared deep into Sai’s eyes, drinking in the moment. His hand fell to the breast of her robe, plucking away at it insistently. Sai smiled wryly at him.
              “Do you want something?” she teased, kissing his cheek. She kissed along his bearded jaw to whisper in his ear. “My robe, perhaps? It is of the finest Leiyani silk, fit for the emperors themselves.”
              “I want it,” Bromm gasped into her ear. “I want it on the floor.”
              She laughed, the sound like the ringing of silver bells, and pulled away. She turned her back to him and slowly lowered the robe from her shoulders. Nearly oblivious to Ilune still sucking his cock, Bromm watched, enraptured, as her robe slunk lower and exposed ever more of her bare, smooth back. He idly laid on hand atop Ilune’s head, guiding her as she pleasured him. He could pay no more attention to his concubine than that, for the sight of Sai disrobing for him entranced him.
              Sai lowered the robe to her waist, just above her shapely ass, and paused. Pursing his lips teasingly at him, she slowly shook her ass and purred. Bromm could feel himself staring, his mouth hanging open.
              “Go on,” he urged, trying to marshal himself to not look like a complete fool. Sai laughed softly to herself and let the robe slide all the way down to the floor. Her bare ass was exposed and Bromm felt himself lick his lips. It was pale, round, and smooth, a glorious sight in the afternoon sun streaming through the open windows, and she had arched her back in just such a way to make it stand out for him. Bromm bit his lip, his hand tightening on Ilune’s head. 
              “Turn around,” he hissed. “Let me see the rest of you,” he begged.
              A mischievous smile split her face and she laid an arm over her breasts before beginning to slowly turn around. Bromm’s eyes lingered on the arm hiding her breasts before dropping to her shaven sex. The mound of her sex was plump and calling to him, naked and pale in the sunlight. 
              “Come here,” he commanded suddenly. She obeyed, still covering her breasts until Bromm grabbed her arm and pulled it away. Beneath it, her breasts were pale, soft and shapely, topped by pink nipples in pale pink rings of flesh. Bromm pinched her nipples with both hands, pulling her close to him for another kiss. She giggled through the press of lips and laid her arms around his shoulders. 
              “Ilune,” he said as he broke from the kiss. “Stand up. Give her a kiss.”
              The blonde girl stood up, still holding his cock in one soft hand. She shyly brushed a lock of golden hair back from her pretty face and looked to Sai.
              “Come here, girl,” Sai whispered in her delightfully exotic accent. Ilune swallowed, her grip tightening on Bromm’s cock. The Leiyani girl took her by the chin and laid a sensuous kiss on her. Bromm saw Ilune’s cheeks flush and felt her stroking slow on his cock. The sight of the two beauties kissing was as magnificent as anything he had seen. He felt his cock throb.
              “I need to fuck someone,” he growled. He grabbed Ilune and pulled her against him, rubbing her bare ass against his cock. She giggled in nervous excitement, crossing her arms over her breasts in front of her. Bromm grabbed his cock in one hand and, steadying Ilune with the other on her waist, thrust himself inside her. She moaned with pleasure and he wrapped his arms around her slender waist. His hips clapped against her bare ass, a sound that seemed to delight Sai, who took Ilune in her arms and kissed her again, then again. Bromm grabbed the blonde girl by the hair, pulling her head back as if commanding a horse by its reins. Sai followed, and the three of them shared a single kiss. 
              Three sets of lips worked hot and wet against each other and Bromm had to concentrate on his cock to keep from coming. He still had not even entered Sai. The thought seized him suddenly, and he pushed Ilune off his cock. She looked disappointed when he pulled Sai close, and the Leiyani girl paid her no mind. 
              “I want you,” he gasped to Sai, “I want to fuck you now, before I come and ruin it all.”
              “How do you want me?” she asked warmly, her eyes on his cock, still wet from Ilune’s sex. “Do you want me standing, against the cabinet? Or on the bed? Or perhaps the floor?”
              Bromm’s mind swam with the possibilities as he yanked his breeches down to his ankles and tore his shirt over his head. How did he want her? A thought came to mind, of him fucking her over the railing, as he had done with Ilune the night before. But his eyes were instead drawn to the big, soft, silk-sheeted bed. 
              “Lay down on the bed,” he commanded, his voice and breathing heavy. “I’ll get naked and come to you there.”
              Sai nodded and obeyed. She crossed the room to the bed and crawled onto it, her tight round ass sticking up in the air as she did. Ilune watched her, biting her lower lip.
              “Come on girl,” Bromm commanded as he fought to get his boots off. “It’s time to have some fucking fun.” Sai turned over on the bed and spread her legs, baring her wet sex for the other two to see. Bromm stumbled toward the bed, his breeches caught around his ankles, cursing and stomping as he did.
              At last, he kicked off his boots and made to mount Sai, but stopped when he saw Ilune hesitating at the edge of the bed. She nervously played with her fingers, looking from Bromm’s hard cock to Sai laying naked on the silken sheets.
              “What’s the matter, girl?” Bromm asked. Ilune blushed, looked to the floor, and stammered something unintelligible. “What’s that?” he asked.
              “I’ve never lain with a woman, master,” she stammered. “I… I don’t know what to do.”               
Bromm smiled. “It’s not difficult,” he reassured her. “Mount her face and let her do as she knows how. I’ll do the rest.”
              “Her face?” Ilune repeated, her cheeks turned darker red still as she looked to Sai. The courtesan gave her a welcoming smile and patted the bed beside her. Ilune summoned her strength and climbed onto the bed. Bromm watched, stroking his hard cock. Ilune straddled Sai, inching forward on her knees until her sex was positioned over Sai’s mouth. The Leiyani girl grabbed two handfuls of her ass and buried her face between Ilune’s legs. 
              Ilune squealed with surprised delight. She grabbed Sai’s head in her hands, her body lurching forward to look down and back at Sai as she kissed and caressed Ilune’s sex with her tongue. Sai’s legs moved beneath her on the bed, toes curling as she squirmed with pleasure.
              Bromm could wait no longer. He marched up to the edge of the bed, grabbed Sai’s hips in his hands and thrust his cock into her. She moaned, the sound muffled by Ilune’s sex in her mouth, and Bromm felt her body convulse with pleasure. His cock throbbed in her warm, wet sex and he begun to thrust hungrily into her, watching her soft, pale breasts shake on her prone form. The sight drove him to fuck her harder and soon enough, she was screaming with delight into Ilune.
              Ilune herself was lost in the throes of pleasure, and Bromm watched her little ass bounce on Sai’s face with glee. She was hunched over Sai’s face, one hand clutching at the other girl’s hair as the other clutched the silk sheets beneath them. Bromm grabbed her hair and pulled it into a tail, pulling her head back to kiss her.
              “She kisses me good, master,” Ilune gasped, and Bromm smiled. He could hear the squelching and smacking of Sai’s lips above the slapping of his flesh against hers, and the sound made him want to come. But it would not do to leave the girls unsatisfied. He reached around Ilune and took the hard bead of her womanhood between his fingers. He played with it, feeling Sai’s fingers and tongue working at the same goal, and Ilune began to melt in his hand.
He looked into her wide blue eyes and he played with her sex, her red lips hanging open in a beautiful oval and her little breasts shaking as her body convulsed in pleasure. She slumped in his arms, screaming with ecstasy as the convulsions overtook her, and he felt Sai shivering beneath them as well. The Leiyani’s sex grew wetter and hotter, and her feet scrabbled at the smooth sheets for purchase. Her moaning, still muffled by Ilune’s body, grew louder and more desperate until the courtesan screamed and thrashed about in orgasm. 
              Bromm could hold himself back no more, and squirted a hot load of cum deep into her. He sagged atop her, his chin resting on Ilune’s shoulder as he came again. He sagged further, falling to the side to lay upon the sheets and dragging Ilune down with him. 
              The three of them lay there in a breathless tangle, their breathing slowing as they listened to only that and the sounds of the city outside. Ilune murmured something in a half-asleep state and Bromm stroked her hair lovingly without reply. 
              Sai turned over on her elbows, reaching back with one hand to dab at the hot, sticky cum leaking out of her pink sex. Bromm grinned tiredly at the sight. With a smile of her own, she stood up and crossed the room to the bath chamber. Bromm remained in bed, stroking the golden hair of Ilune.
              He turned to look out the window as the sun crept lower in the afternoon sky. With his cock spent, his thoughts returned to the unfortunate Eanmasor and his killer who remained at large. Would that I could have brought him here to share these girls with me, he thought. What I’d give to see them lapping up our cum while we sipped wine.
              “Ilune, wake up, girl,” he said, gently shaking her awake. “We’ve got to go.”
              “Already?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 
              “Already,” he nodded. “The killer is still out there.”
              He stood up from the bed and began to dress himself. Ilune sat on the edge of the bed, still naked, and watched. Sai emerged from the bath chamber.
              “Leaving so soon? You paid good money for me and the room.”
              “Sorry, girl,” Bromm said, pulling his shirt over his head. “I have business to attend to. You were a magnificent distraction, but the life of a captain is always busy. Perhaps I’ll be back when I’m done.”
              He gave her a kiss on the cheek and she returned it. “Do come back some time soon,” she said, wiping sweat off her beautiful breasts with a small towel. “And bring her again. Her cunt is like the lotus drug when I’ve got my face in it.”
              “Of course,” Bromm replied. He looked to the marble-topped cabinet and its wine. “I won’t let these go to waste.”
              Taking two bottles, he opened the door and led the still-naked Ilune out into the hall. “So long,” he called back to Sai. “I’ll see you again soon.”
              Coming down the stairs, Bromm reentered a sea of delights. An old woman of perhaps sixty strode by, naked as the day and escorted by a pair of young men not even half her age. Bromm only smiled and shook his head as the three of them disappeared into a private suite. Ilune was shocked, her pale cheeks turning red again as she stared wide-eyed at Bromm. 
              “It’s the Lotus,” he shrugged. They continued on down the stairs to the next floor. In the salon there, a crowd had gathered to watch a grossly overweight man who was fucking a slender young beauty. The girl was down on all fours, her big tits swinging beneath as the jewel studs piercing her nipples glittered purple in the lanternlight. With each thrust of the man’s heavy hips, her slight frame shook, she moaned in pleasure, and his rolls of fat trembled all along his body. 
              His curiosity aroused, Bromm stepped closer and Ilune followed. The assembled crowd was made up of patrons and whores alike, the patrons as focused on the show before them as much as the whores seated in their laps or at their sides. Bromm looked around for an empty seat but could see none. Instead, he spotted a familiar face. It was his contact with the smugglers, a man named Genden. Genden was seated on a divan with a whore under each arm, both beautiful and naked but for the gold and jewels draped over them. He spotted Bromm and waved a hello.
              Picking his way through the crowd with Ilune in tow, Bromm crouched beside Genden’s couch and bid him hello.
              “Hello, Genden. I see you have been having a good week as well.”
              “Indeed, with so many ships putting into port, the price of spice has gone up and we’re reaping the rewards from our stockpile. How are you finding yourself?”
              “Well enough,” Bromm replied. He raised one of the wine bottles he had taken from the suite.
              Genden’s eye’s went past Bromm to Ilune. “She’s a pretty one. Is she fresh off one of the boats?”
              “She is, but she’s not one of the Lotus’ girls. I won her from the visling Zyrdun in a game of cards last night.”
              “Ah, cards!” Genden cried, hugging his whores close to himself. “It has been so long since I won anything of value at cards. It is good to see you having some luck. Did you bring her around for some company? It seems a waste to pay the Lotus’ high prices when you could take this girl upstairs at an inn or lower rent brothel.”
              “Well,” Bromm began, “I brought her here on a mission of mine, as it were.”
              “A mission? Are you doing business at a time like this?”
              Bromm looked to the fat man, who had turned over on his back. His cock stood straight up toward the salon’s intricately carved and painted ceiling. It was a sizeable member, but still stood lower than his bloated belly. His pretty young whore was stroking it as she played with her sex, much to the crowd’s delight. Her hands were rough on both of them, with rolls of fat and jeweled nipple rings shaking together under the force. 
              “I’m looking for a killer,” Bromm said quietly, and Genden raised an eyebrow. He pointed to a couch against the wall and Bromm nodded. He and Ilune crossed the room to sit on the couch, where Genden joined them after speaking to his whores. The smuggler threw himself onto the couch where he bounced, sending Ilune a hand’s width into the air and back down, her little breasts shaking the whole way. She giggled and brushed her loose hair over her shoulder. Bromm smiled and kissed her cheek.
              Genden became serious all of a sudden.
              “There’s no Assassins in Torvuls, but I’m sure you can find a man for the right price. Have you tried the Guild?”
              “Not to perform a job,” Bromm cut in, “Someone who has slain a friend of mine and needs to face justice.”
              “My apologies. Who was it?”
              “Eanmasor, captain of the Wanderer. He was killed in the Naked Nymph last night, in a room I had lent him when he was too drunk to make it back to his own room.”
              “A sad tale. These past few days have been absolute mayhem in the city. Your friend will not grace the pyres alone.”
              A murmur went through the crowd behind them, as the showgirl climbed atop her lover, her tight round ass on display for all to see as his fat cock split her lips and made her moan. She began to ride him, slowly at first, but then building in speed and passion as he clutched at her, suckled at her little breasts, and thrust his bulk into her slight hips and tender sex. 
              “I first thought the killer had come for me,” Bromm went on, “but since ruling that out I have been looking for those who might have a grudge against Eanmasor. I thought it might be someone from the Thieves’ Guild, then a madame here, but neither of them look likely now.”
              “Well, a pirate like Eanmasor would surely have many enemies. Who has he robbed?”
              “He slew Orrem of Chariot and his whole crew just before putting into port, but they’ve been keeping that a secret.”
              “A good idea. Orrem had many friends. Can you trust your girl there?” Genden pointed a subtle finger at Ilune, who gave him a slight scowl.
              “She’s not a problem. Friends like whom?”
              “The queen’s sorcerer used him for treasure hunting. I bet the elf is how he beat your man to the treasure. Myrdad, they were part of some secret society together. I know he came up through Lucullus’ crew with some others. Japhet, Armen, Tull---”
              “Armen?!” Bromm gasped, “He was with us when Eanmasor told of Chariot’s defeat!”
              “So much for keeping it a secret,” Ganden muttered. “Felitharna will laugh at him for his poor judgement.”
              “Damn,” Bromm muttered to himself. “It was Armen all along. Sorry, Genden, but I must go. Vengeance awaits me.”
              “As you will. You’ll know where to find me when you’re done.” The smuggler stood up and returned to where he had left his whores on the couch. But Bromm paid him no mind. He stood up from the couch, Ilune looking up to him with concern, her slender legs folded beneath her.
              “What are you going to do, master?” she asked. Bromm was unsure of how to reply. 
              “I must find Armen,” he replied after a moment. “Where would he be?”
              “Where would you go after seeking vengeance on the man who killed your friend? Where will you go once you’ve killed him?”
              Bromm considered for a moment. He wanted to be nowhere else but here, surrounded by naked beauties and with Ilune under his arm. But he had not yet taken his revenge.
              And neither has Armen, he realized. “Eanmasor said that he plotted the attack,” he said aloud, and Ilune cocked her head to one side with interest. “But it was his first mate Kynas who struck down Orrem. Armen will want his head next. Come one, we’ve got to get back to the Nymph and find Kynas before Armen does!”
              Bromm pulled Ilune along behind him toward the exit, not even stopping to watch as the fat man came to a climax at last. He moaned and shook, thrusting and spurting his seed up deep inside the girl on his cock as the gathered crowd murmured their approval. But Bromm and his pretty young concubine were already out the door.
              
              They rushed out the door of the Lotus, stopping only briefly to retrieve Bromm’s weapons. The sun was low in the sky as they stepped back onto Dolphin’s Square, but the revelry of Torvuls continued unabated. The drunken crowd pressed in around them as they made their way down the square to Palace Street where they passed beneath the shadow of the queen’s opulent palace toward the Naked Nymph where Bromm’s crewmates waited. 
              To reach the Nymph, they had to pass through the great market, which was itself almost as crowded as Dolphin’s Square. With one handing pulling Ilune along, and making sure she did not become lost or entangled in the crowd, Bromm kept his other hand near his swordbelt, his eyes scanning the sea of faces for Armen’s face. At the first sighting of him, Bromm was ready to draw and shoot him dead. 
              Jostled by the crowd, Bromm and Ilune at last emerged from it and burst through the front door of the Naked Nymph, only to find themselves amid another crowd. The common room was wide and tall, with a towering statue of a dancing nymph rising from the ground floor to the ceiling twenty feet above, and all the room’s tables were crowded with sailors, peddlers, whores, and wait staff. Bromm caught a brief glimpse of Elyssa disappearing into the kitchen with her mother, both of them carrying trays of empty mugs. 
              Bromm pushed around the edge of the common room toward the rear door that led back to where his crewmates had set up on the back stair. A knot of rowdy sailors blocked his path, and he roughly shoved them aside. They shouted after him, one tripped over a bench in pursuit and went spilling to the floor, where he ignited a shoving match. Bromm did not look back as he pulled Ilune through the door to the back room. 
              The oaken portal slammed shut behind him, and Bromm sighed as the raucous common room faded to a dull roar. His companions Sahat and Tahavi sat at the room’s larger table, accompanied by a group of sailors Bromm did not know. Sahat raised his hand, holding a deck of cards, and tipped an imaginary hat at Bromm.
              “Welcome back, captain. Zyrdun’s men are free now. They’re angry, but I don’t think we have anything to fear from them. I gave them a few rubies to smooth things over.”
              “Good work,” Bromm said brusquely as he approached the table and set down the wine bottles. “Kynas, Eanmasor’s first mate. Where is he? And where’s Pyet?”
              “Pyet I don’t know, I thought he was with you. But Kynas is upstairs, I think,” said Tahavi. “He just got back from spending the day in a spice den stupor and only found out about Eanmasor when he walked in the door. He’s looking through Eanmasor’s things now. He hoped to go to an orgy at the Temple of Nystra later, but I don’t know if his heart will be in it now.”
              “Good. He’s safe as long as he’s here,” Bromm said. He picked up a bottle of wine and took a drink. “I’ve been running around the city all day trying to find out who killed Eanmasor, and I think I’ve figured it out. Orrem, the captain of Chariot, was a friend of Armen’s. I think Armen killed Eanmasor, and he’ll be looking for Kynas, who is the one who struck the final blow to Orrem.”
              Sahat bolted up from his chair. “Armen just went upstairs as well!”
              Bromm dropped the bottle with a start. He tore his sword from its scabbard and ran for the door with Sahat close behind. Their feet thundered on the wooden stairs and Bromm crashed into a woman descending the stairs with an armload of laundry. Sheets, clothing, and towels flew everywhere in the narrow stairwell. Bromm slipped on one underfoot to bang painfully against the floor. His blade clattered from his grasp.
              The unfortunate woman cursed at him under her breath, and Bromm sheepishly reached for his blade, only to hear footsteps at the top of the stair. He looked up to see Armen staring down at him, a dagger in hand. Suddenly, the morning’s horrified fury returned to him in a rush. Bromm stared hatred at him, feeling the anger take hold on his face. Armen froze, and Bromm that Armen knew the cause of his haste. 
              Behind Armen a door opened and Kynas, red-eyed and unsure on his feet, peered out. 
              “Bromm? Are you alright?” he asked slowly, holding his head.
              “Kynas! Get inside and shut the door!” Bromm shouted. Armen turned toward Kynas and charged. Bromm scrambled to his feet and recovered his sword, thundering down the hall after Armen. Kynas’ door slammed shut just as Armen reached it, hurling bodily against the wood. The door opened a hand’s width and Bromm heard a small crack. Armen reached his dagger through, stabbing wildly and blindly. 
              Hearing Bromm bearing down on him, Armen bolted from the door and ran down the hall. With Sahat behind him, Bromm gave chase. Armen nimbly dove out an open window, crashing onto the tiled roof outside. Bromm scrambled through the window after him.
              “Stand and fight, Armen!” he roared. “You killed Eanmasor, and now I’ll kill you!”
              “He deserved it!” Armen called back. “Orrem was my friend!” The other captain ran along the narrow roof but quickly realized there was nowhere to go but up or down. He looked up toward the roof above him, then down into the alley behind the Nymph and chose the latter. He sheathed the dagger and, throwing a look over his shoulder at Bromm, swung himself over the edge of the roof to climb down.
              With Sahat following close behind, Bromm scrambled down the nearer side of the inn in pursuit. Bromm was a much more accomplished climber, and so made up ground on his foe. When they both alit on the cobblestone, Armen’s head start had vanished. 
              Bromm drew his saber and pointed it at Armen, who drew his own sword. “You will answer for your murderous deed done in the dark of night!”
              “Pfah!” Armen spat. “Justice is done as well in the dark as the light of day. Your man had it coming. Would that I could have gutted him on the card table before you took my money, too.”
              “I’ll be sure to spend it well,” Bromm taunted. Sahat scrambled down the wall of the inn behind him, and Tahavi emerged at the door to the Naked Nymph, blade in hand. Behind him, Ilune peered over his shoulder with concern. 
              “Stay back,” Bromm ordered to his crewmen. “He’s all mine.”
              “Be careful what you wish for,” Armen sneered. He raised his sword, his eyes hard. Bromm stared him down, their blades raised high in the twilight. For a long moment, they stood opposite each other in the alley, eyes staring at them from the door and from windows high above. Armen’s eyes narrowed, he licked his lips, and Bromm lunged for him.
              Bromm cut from up high and Armen’s blade rose to meet the strike. Steel rang on steel, throwing sparks against the brick walls around them. Bromm felt the ringing of the parry in his arms but not did let up. He recovered and converted his parried strike into another cut up from below. Armen darted aside, but fast ran out of room in the narrow alley. Bromm came on, thrusting the gently curved saber straight ahead, but Armen batted the blow aside as well. 
              Now it was Armen’s turn, for Bromm was off-balance. He cut inside Bromm’s reach to strike with the pommel of his sword. Bromm grunted with pain as the fluted pommel slammed into his chest. He turned, but Armen skittered along with him, staying just out of reach. The other captain cut at Bromm’s legs, and he nearly spilled into the alley as hopped over the blow. Teetering on one foot, he looked up to Armen as his foe readied a final thrust. 
              Armen stabbed, and Bromm batted the blade aside with his forearm. The edge cut him, dragging a long red line of bubbling blood along his arm, but Bromm riposted a thrust into Armen’s leg. His saber’s point drove deep, eliciting an agonized cry of pain. Armen staggered back against the well, clutching his wounded leg with a free hand, and Bromm stood up straight again. 
              His enemy leaned against the wall favoring his injured leg, his hard eyes staring fury back at Bromm.
              “When you get to Kanaron’s domain,” Bromm said, his breathing heavy, “Give Eanmasor my regards.” Armen spat.
              “What are you waiting for?” he snarled. “Let’s finish this.”
              He lunged for Bromm, who sidestepped the slow, awkward attack. In the same motion, Bromm slashed out Armen’s other leg, sending him toppling to the alley cobblestones. His sword skittered along the stones out of reach, and Armen lay helpless on the ground. 
              He turned onto his back and looked up at Bromm. His eyes were hard, and his face grim. 
              “Keep looking over your shoulder for me, Bromm. Death isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”
              “I will be happy to kill you a second time if you find the experience to your liking,” Bromm retorted. He drove the saber’s tip into Armen’s heart and twisted. The captain grimaced, then slumped to the stones and lay still, his life gushing out of him in the twilight of the alley.
              “You’ve been wounded!” Ilune exclaimed. She rushed into the alley with a cloth from the bar and a bottle of whiskey. “Here, let me help you.”
              She washed his cut in the stinging spirit and tenderly wrapped his arm in the cloth. Bromm frowned at the spreading blot of red on the formerly clean white cloth. She tightened the wrapping and he winced in pain.
              “Are you alright?” she asked. 
              “It’s nothing,” Bromm snorted. Sahat offered him a bottle of rum, which he took and drained in a long swig. That took the edge off. Belching, he turned to his naked concubine who was still tending to his wounded arm.
              “Come on, Ilune,” Bromm said, his breath coming heavily. “Let’s finally go find you some clothes. I’m thinking rich silks, like the Leiyani courtesan had. It’s what befits you.”
              He laid an arm around her naked shoulders, and they turned to head down the street together as the sun set.
 