Chapter 6

Rori shivered, and not entirely from the cold. After her embarrassing episode with Gunner, Luke had generously offered her a place on his horse.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Levi stumbled in the darkness, behind them.

Luke answered hesitantly, "Anything suspicious. Someone may know something."

Mullet pushed his way past a large bramble bush, "Oh? And they wouldn't happen to have a drop of rum, would they?"

"I'm afraid not."

A man appeared from the right side of the clearing. His blonde hair glinted in the moonlight, and his billowy midnight black robe fell almost all the way to the ground.

"May I help you?" He moved to stand in front of their horses. His footfalls were as silent and stealthy as a cat's.

"Eh . . . yes. Oh, we-"

"We're here to negotiate the loss of our comrade." Rori felt bold enough to speak up, once it was clear the others wouldn't.

"That so?" The man turned to her, his penetrating gaze boring through hers. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, Lady. We are a peaceful people – Never being the first to strike, unless, of course, we feel threatened."

Finally, Luke slid off his horse and marched up to the man. "I'll show you threatened! Riley died here, and if you can't give me an answer," His fingers slid inside his coat

pocket, and he pulled out a small dagger, "I'll get one myself."

That was when three things happened simultaneously.

Levi, in a heroic attempt to stand behind his captain, desperately tried to extricate his right foot from the saddle. This attempt did not work well, since he was soon pathetically dumped on the ground.

Tall men, dressed like the blond man in long, gossamer robes, instantly surrounded the camp.

The blonde man pulled out his own dagger from the sleeve of his robe, and slammed his elbow into Luke's torso.

He then grabbed the scruff of Luke's neck and growled, "Big mistake."

Admiral Motti growled in exasperation. His fight with the oh-so-annoyingly agile pirate was not going well. To say the least.

"Well, I'll give you this much: you certainly know how to enjoy your tea time."

Motti glared at the pirate. Whatever happened to courtesy? "Certainly. One can never be civilized without a proper tea time."

The pirate scum only laughed.

It was time to employ the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions.

Rhett desperately blocked the admiral's sword, forced it aside, and inserted his fist into the unsuspecting man's stomach.

"To the ships!" Rhett cried, pointing his sword in the direction of the waterfront. At the horizon, he could barely make out the faint outlines of the secret fleet.

Time to go.

"You know this is all your fault, really." Thayet remarked bitterly to Luke. They were all currently dumped inside a rickety prison. Disintegrating shrunken heads stood scattered around the hay floor. "If you hadn't insisted on showing your manliness – which, I feel the circumstances allow me to reveal, is non-existent – we could all be chatting around a nice, warm fire and having tea and crumpets!"

Luke nudged a head with the heel of his boot, not bothering to hide his distaste, "Perhaps, yet somehow, I doubt it."

Levi grasped the rusty bars, nearly sobbing, "We're going to die! Please, let us out, I've been a good boy." He wrinkled his nose uncertainly. "Well, at least figuratively."

Mullet sat down at the end of a tree stump that had somehow worked its way into their prison. "This would be ever so much easier to bear, if we had port."

"Oh, shut it."

Mullet did – once the footsteps of the steadily approaching guards were audible.

"Our Lord Bengorian wishes to take council with the Lady. Please do not try some ill-conceived escape attempt, as we have posted scouts at all sides of the camp."

Luke, who was just thinking something along those lines, instantly colored.

For the second time this week, Rori was astounded. The sheer size of the mysterious Lord Bengorian's halls was overwhelming. Elaborate tapestries hung from the walls, while colorful carpets adorned the floors. Columns of various diameters decorated the halls. Intricate designs adorned their surface, seeming to tell hundreds of stories, if one just looked hard enough.

"Amazing, is it not?"

Startled, Rori gazed up, at the tall shadow. It was the blonde man. He had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"I apologize if the courtesy of our halls seems somewhat unwelcoming. We were unable to allow you to roam our camp while your status still remained unknown."

Rori touched the smooth surface of a column, "And you have determined our status as …?"

"For the time, allies."

"I see," Rori glanced at him, uncertainly, "Lord Bengorian?"

An amused smile, the first in an undoubtedly long time, graced his fair features, "You mistake me with my father. He is, unfortunately, unable to greet you, but sends his regards, nonetheless. Torrance avardi Bengorian"

"Beg pardon?"

"Torrance avardi Bengorian is my name. Long ago a young man's name was determined by his father's. For instance, my name – translated to your common language - would be Torrance, son of Bengorian. Yours?"

"Mine?" Rori repeated dumbly.

"Your name?"

She blushed, "Rori. Rori Dalor."

Torrance took her hand, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Dalor."

Rori smiled pleasantly. Perhaps, this wasn't going to be so bad.

Back and forth. Pacing. Always pacing.

Levi, cantankerous from the undeniable deficit of food and drink, and the desperate need to relieve himself, growled irritably in Luke's direction, "Stop doing that, will you?! You're wearing a hole in the carpet – er, hay."

"Sorry." Luke mumbled.

By his calculation, Rori had been gone for seven hours! Who knew what monstrosities could've befallen her? Thayet would have his head if Rori were hurt – or worse. Something must be done.

Wincing at the prospect of using his hands in such an unsanitary manner, Luke, nonetheless, knelt on the hay floor and furiously began digging.

Mullet surveyed his progress, curiously, "What's in your head, boy?"

Luke continued digging, "Wait and see."

Three hooded figures strolled through the market, looking slightly out of place from the rest of the fair camp. Almost dusk, the marketplace was nearly empty, except for the rare shopkeeper still closing.

"Well, I still say it was dishon'rable to steal their cloaks while they was bathing!" The dumpy one whispered underneath his breath.

Luke grimaced. "It was necessary, Levi."

Mullet caught up with them, "And this robe rides up in all the wrong places."

Levi nodded. "My sentiments exactly."

Luke glanced at them, "I doubt it was made for our body types."

"You're jesting." Mullet replied dryly.

"Quite the contrary, my friend." It was the blonde man … again. "My clan has a highly distinctive body build. We're much longer and leaner than … well, you."

Luke growled, "You, 'my friend' have the uncanny ability to show up when you're least wanted."

"Apologies. I was just on my way to fetch you from the jailhouse, but I saw it was quite empty."

"Fetch us for what?"

"Dinner, of course. Cook is always so upset when someone is late."

"Dinner?"

He nodded, "Why, yes. Don't tell me you aren't hungry?"

"We aren't." Luke replied harshly.

"How unfortunate. Cook is going all out tonight. I've heard it is to be an eight course meal."

Levi's eyes widened. "Eight courses! We're -"

"Not hungry."

Levi glared at Luke.

"At least, let me take you to Miss Dalor. She has been quite worried about you all day."

At this point, Luke could no longer constrain himself. His fist connected with the blonde man's nose. A resounding crack vibrated through the air.

Cybercookies to all reviewers!