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Authors: Tristan J. Tarwater

Self-Made Scoundrel (37 page)

BOOK: Self-Made Scoundrel
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“Can’t a man put on his best shirt and best pants and walk around?” he asked, incredulous. “If you like, I can take them off.” He laid down on her bed, trying not to react when she wrinkled her nose at him, hands on her hips.

“Get off my bed!” she demanded. “I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“I’ve been here the last bit! And the bar!” he half-shouted, not able to keep from laughing. Gam huffed through her own laughter and sat on the bed, putting the box with her medicines next to her.

“When did you get into town?” Her fingers pried open a a stone box of salve and she ran her fingertip over it before she took his hand in hers. She had callouses from hew sewing, her hands rough and smooth in different spots.

“I got in last night, slept at the Church, as I’m like to do.” Old Gam dabbed her finger a little too hard against his skin, making him wince.

“As you’re like to do,” she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Derk sat up in the bed, pulling his hand away. “I wasn’t going to show up here late at night. I wanted to get a good night’s sleep and wash up.”

“Trim your beard,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

“What is it with you and the beard?” he demanded. “It’s just hair. Things change, Gam!” He looked over his burn, moving his fingers to see what his hand felt like. Not too bad. “I can’t believe you’re all mad over a beard.” He grabbed her hand and put it on his face again, looking into her eyes. “I’m still Derk. Your Derk.” He didn’t think Gam could blush but she was. She seemed to know she was because she looked away, as if trying to hide it. He kissed the palm of her hand, rubbing her hand against his face. He could hear the scratching of her skin against his facial hair. Gam reached up and tousled his hair, smiling.

“That’s more like Derk,” she said. “My Derk. Just you and me.”

“It’s just you and me right now,” he said. She looked over his clothes again. He wondered if she guessed he had been at the temple, asking after Sindra. It was all behind him. Behind them.

“And the Cup,” she mused, sitting up straighter on the bed, the mattress settling under her.

“Not in bed,” he said.

“You need a good plowing, don’t you?” Old Gam asked. She grinned at him.

“I’m trying really hard to not just come out and ask,” Derk laughed. “Not that I think it’s all you’re good for, Gam. I-” He stopped short, looking around the room as he tried to think of what to say.

“Don’t stop, say something nice to me,” Old Gam said. “You know how to get me in bed.”

“That was before the beard,” he said, as seriously as he could. Gam laughed, loudly, her face scrunching up like it always did when she laughed. They both laughed for a few breaths before Gam sighed and laid down beside him, forcing him to scoot over in the bed.

“You know, you missed me and I missed you,” she said, laying her hand on his chest. He could feel his own heart beat under it, his heart beat slightly faster as she wrapped one leg on top of his. “And you treated me bad, Derk. You left me in bed all those years ago and took up with that woman. You spent all your time with her and even when she didn’t want you, you kept after. She didn’t even know you. Not like me. And you would come to me and sit at my table and mope over her. You always looked so stupid when you did.”

“Gam, you never told me you wanted me to stick around.” He rolled over onto his side so that he faced her, close. He brought his fingers to her hair and laid his thumb on her cheek, his legs brushing against hers.

“I knew even if you did stick around, you wouldn’t be happy. Why ask you to do something you’re not supposed to do?” Old Gam moved closer to him, her hips inching toward his, her shirt creeping up her legs. “It wouldn’t have been fair or kind.”

“You’ve always been too kind to me,” he chuckled.

“I’m glad you recognize when I’m being kind,” she said. Celeel leaned over and kissed him, Derk’s mouth meeting hers. Her mouth still tasted the same, the beer she always drank on her tongue and lips. He put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her hips gently toward his, feeling the curve of her backside and slipping his hand under her shirt to feel her skin. They kissed on her bed, Gam’s hands running over his thighs and tugging at his shirt. She pulled her lips away from his and laid her cheek on his, rubbing her fair skin against his beard, making Derk laugh.

Derk rolled over on top of her, moving her legs and lifting up her shirt, past her legs, thighs, hips till he could see her stomach. He knelt down and started to kiss the inside of her thigh when she grabbed him by the hair, too hard for it to be playful.

“I left the pot of water on the stove,” she laughed. Derk looked up from between her legs. Whatever his face looked like it made her laugh even more.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, his arm still wrapped around her leg. “Just let the hem chawing pot go!”

“I could set the whole building on fire!” she laughed. “There’s a woman with a baby living above me! I need to take it off.” She patted him on the head before she awkwardly unlaced her legs from his grasp. Derk groaned after her as she skipped into the front room. Between grumbles he pulled off his boots and socks, setting them at the foot of the bed neatly. He started to pull his tunic up over his head, raising his eyebrows when he had it off. Gam stood in the doorway, naked. She posed quickly like the way women did in pictures before she walked back to the bed, one hands reaching to undo his pants as she pushed him back onto the bed. Derk was happy to help her with the belt. Both their bodies were patchworks of lighter and darker shades of beige, showing where they had allowed the summer sun to color their skin. Derk kissed her shoulders, raking his teeth against her skin as she straddled him, more and more of themselves touching, her heat and taste familiar to Derk’s
tongue and body.

Afterward they lay in her bed, not bothering to get under the sheets. It was too hot for it. Derk lay on his belly, watching Celeel’s stomach rise and fall with every breath. They had both dozed off but Derk was awake now. Her hair was in her face but she didn’t seem to notice as always. He heard her stomach grumble and realized he himself was hungry. Leaning over he kissed her on the mouth, sweetly, glad to find her kissing him back, her hand in his hair. He pulled away and she smiled at him, yawning lazily before she sat up.

Gam sat in the bed, leaning forward slightly, her back curved in an arc. She looked to Derk sleepily and yawned again. “You know,” she said. “I think I will join your Cup,” she said. “I could use with knowing where you are.”

“It would be nice,” Derk said, rolling over and propping his head on his hand. “I’d like that.”

“And,” Gam said, sitting up a bit more straight on the bed. Her hair fell down across her shoulders but he could still see the curve of her breasts. “Well, if you’re not going to eventually take charge of it, someone will have to.” Gam smiled at him, her mischievous grin. It made his heart skip a beat.

“Right,” he said, sitting up in bed. Relief swept over him, glad to finally have her say yes. He wouldn’t be with Gam all the time. He couldn’t be. But a bit more would be nice. He sat up and kissed her shoulder. “Let’s go get some food. We can talk more about it later.”

They both got up from the bed, searching the room for their clothes. Derk thought about pulling Gam back to the bed before they went out but he found all his clothes too quickly to make it happen. Gam dressed in a dress he hadn’t seen before, the embroidery around the neckline and shoulders intricate and beautiful. He offered her his arm and they walked out onto the streets of Portsmouth together looking for a meal.

“Where’s the pendant I got you?” Derk asked. They were several blocks from her home and he noticed she hadn’t bothered to wear it. “You didn’t wear it?”

“Oh,” Gam said, rolling her eyes at herself. “I must have forgot to put it on. Got caught up in being hungry and all.” Gam leaned over and kissed him on the cheek in consolation. Derk tried not to look too disappointed. After all, she had agreed to join in the Cup, hadn’t she? He had brought his past to the present. As they walked to the bar Derk couldn’t help but feel like even with Gam closer to him, the road before him was still unknown.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Little Girl Found

Derk took a moment to have a seat in the back alley, shaking out his coat so the tails fluttered behind him as he sat down, groaning. His head ached horribly and his eyes were still having a hard time focusing. The blows he had just taken were still with him, apparently. He had gone to the End Side to wallow a bit, intending on blowing off some steam by picking a fight with one of the other patrons. Instead, someone started throwing chairs right when he finished his first bottle. What was meant to be a therapeutic trip to the bar ended in a brawl involving most of the people there. The inside of his mouth tasted like salt and iron and he spit to the side, cursing at the blood shining bright red on the dark cobblestones.

Fenwick was one of the worst places Derk had ever been, and yet he had stayed here the longest. It was a town full of people with bad tempers, horrific manners and dark secrets. Its reputation as a den of thieves had been what attracted Derk in the first place. After much carousing with others from the Cup, as well as going on a few more diplomatic exploits, he realized his skills had reached a plateau. He would have to be pressed to grow and when he asked Hock how he should go about doing so, the man had said, “Fenwick.” The suggestion had both intrigued and frightened him. Before he could decide otherwise he set out, telling Jezlen to meet him in a year’s time. The Forester had said something to the effect of, “If you make that long.” This of course convinced the thief Fenwick must be done and so he left, determined to last a year.

It had been a fruitful year. Among the lowest of the low, he had learned a few new tricks, most of them meaner or sneakier than those he was accustomed to. He learned a few names and matched a few faces. He now had the ability and nature required to strike a man down with one blow. Even more so, he fell back upon his old habits of disappearing and reappearing when it was most convenient to him. “Derk the Lurk” came into Fenwick from quite a few cities down, and in the streets, alleys and halls of the city, he lived up to his new name.

Of course, not everything had been educational. Shortly after arriving in Fenwick, Derk fell in love with one of the brass, a thin, dark haired girl named Benna. Shortly after she took him on, she informed him she was pregnant. The attention he paid her was apparently unwelcome because she threw him out, informing him she wouldn’t give up her profession or be told what to do by any man. During the following months, he checked up on her, sending her money and offering to move them all out of the city, to some place safer. When the child was born, it was very obviously not his and Benna evicted him from her life. It was the reason why he had gone to the bar.

“Stupid hem chawers” he muttered to no one in particular. His mouth still tasted like blood and his head still pounded. He crossed his legs and placed his right ankle on his left knee, opening the compartment in the boot heel only after making sure no one was looking. Inside was a fullie and a silver colored charm, meant to bring him good luck wherever he stepped. Derk contemplated tossing it into the gutter and spitting on the old soothsayer who had sold it to him. But the old woman told him only in the death throes would peace come and then, life. Riddles. The fortune teller was almost as bad as the priestesses in this city, with their meandering liturgies and cold prayers.

A few more phases sounded like an eternity at the moment. He secured the charm and the white coin in his heel before he stood up, surprised at the pain shooting through his leg as he put his weight on it. Had someone kicked him there? His knee felt slightly loose and he grimaced as he walked through the alley, limping as he made his way onto the busy street.

Derk’s eyes scanned the teeming streets, only slightly sure of what he was looking for. When Derk was hurt, he generally wanted one thing: to be pampered by a beautiful woman. Beautiful women weren’t hard to come by in Fenwick, but the chance of finding one who would care for him would most likely prove fruitless. His stomach growled despite his other bodily pains, commanding food before doctoring. The aroma of something pleasant seemed to be mixed in with the other ranker scents and so he followed his nose toward what he hoped would be food for sale.

The first thing he noticed about her was he almost didn’t see her. The small body bumped into him and a tiny voice said, “Sorry,” before the speaker scurried away, trying to get lost in the sea of people. Derk stopped dead in his tracks, letting the people stream around him like water around a river rock. He knew the feeling.

There was the sensation of someone being clumsy and bumping into you. And then there was this; a sizing up upon impact, deliberate, meant to tell the “bumper” something about the person they bumped into. He turned his head and strained his eyes, trying to see if he could make out who had done it. The pressure had been too low for a full grown adult and the voice too high for a man or a woman. He turned around altogether, shoving someone who was giving him dirty looks for holding up the flow of traffic in the street. His eyes scanned the crowd and fell upon a small group standing in front of the temple.

The little girl was like a tattered butterfly fluttering to and fro among the people on the street, eventually lighting upon the white-washed steps of the temple. In the short time it had taken her to run between five people she had acquired something to eat and was now chewing it quickly, hiding behind the skirts of one of the women in the group. They were obviously all brass and the one who the girl was hiding behind obviously the ring leader of the three. The woman, buxom and blonde, looked down at the little girl, tossing her head back as she laughed and patted her on the head, playing with one of the girl’s long, black braids. The little girl smiled slightly, still gnawing at whatever she had taken. The blonde woman said something and the little girl’s large mouth frowned slightly as she turned her dark eyes up toward the woman. The woman knelt down and tucked a braid behind the girl’s ear, revealing its slight point. As soon as the woman turned away the little girl made a face and
let her hair fall back over her ear.

BOOK: Self-Made Scoundrel
2.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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