Chap. 317 End Game

Chap. 317 End Game

Finally, she thought, I’m out of this bloody stinking jungle.

She warily scanned the open savannah from the tree line. The horse, behind her, dropped his head.

Ah. The caves! There was a dragonrider, sitting on the pack. An enormous dragon was next to him.

The sunlight was in her eyes. She scanned the openings to the caves, but saw nothing but deep shadows within.

She paused. Dragons. I hate them, she thought, they’re scary. Why is it so close to him?

Where is the horse? I’m going to need that horse to get out of here.

F’mart stood up, as if having decided to go ahead without her, and started handling the ropes.

“HEY!” she shouted, “That’s mine!”

She yanked on the horse’s reins. The horse balked, it’s eyes rolling, clearly afraid of the dragon. She dropped the reins and marched to the pack.

F’mart straightened up and watched her approach.

“That’s mine.”

F’mart snorted. “Who are you?”

“I’m Vika. That’s my pack you’re messing with. Where’s my packhorse?”

F’mart smirked. “My dragon was hungry.”

“He ate my horse?” she shouted, shocked.

“You weren’t here. After I took the pack off, Firoth ate the horse.”

“You just let it eat my horse?”

“LET it? Let? Do you see how big he is? Try taking a dragon’s kill from him. Even I can’t do that. Dragons have no conscience when they’re hungry.”

“Damn your dragon. Now you owe me a horse as well.”

“You have one.”

“He’s done. I’m surprised he’s still standing.”

“Sounds like your problem, not mine. As for this pack, I don’t see how you think it’s yours. I have no idea who you are.”

“I’m VIKA, I said.”

“And Vika is who?”

“I’m Scar’s partner.”

F’mart put his hands on his hips. “I know Scar. We’ve dealt before. You’re not Scar. I don’t deal with strange women. As far as I’m concerned, this pack belongs to the first one who found it. That’s me.”

“It’s MINE! And Scar’s.”

F’mart insolently looked behind her. “Scar is your horse? Because I see no other human than you.”

“No, you…” she bit her tongue. “Scar is, um, still back in the forest.”

“And he’s suddenly turned shy? I contracted with Scar, not some ditz of a woman. Why isn’t he here, if he’s your partner?”

“He’s dead.”

“Really! How is it he’s dead?”

“I killed him.”

F’mart nodded, feigning admiration. “Knowing Scar, that must have been one shaff of a fight. Why, may I ask, did you kill your ‘partner’?”

Why. Why. Think, Vika, THINK.

“He, um, he planned on doublecrossing you. He wanted me to hide in the treeline and shoot you, then we would steal your pouch with the money and keep the pack.”

“And you thought better of it?”

Shaff it, she thought, I missed the chance of a lifetime. I should have done precisely that! He’s all alone, I could have done it. That damned twit in the forest sent me the most difficult way, I didn’t think. But no, this dragonrider is out of crossbow range. It wouldn’t have worked.

“You’re having trouble thinking of another lie, Vika,” F’mart pressed.

“I..I’ve heard about you, T’ovar. I did think of it, okay, yes, but then I remembered hearing you’re the best man on Pern to, um, ‘contract’ with. I, um, I thought, with Scar out of the way, maybe you and I could arrange a trading agreement, just you and me. Scar was going to kill you. You couldn’t trust him. Not like me.”

“And, conveniently, now that’s he’s dead, you take all the money, rather than, what was your deal with Scar? He said twenty eighty split. I’m honestly surprised anyone would have accepted just twenty percent.”

“Twenty eighty? NO, see how he tried to cheat me! His partner! No! Now you see how shifty Scar was! It was fifty fifty. I was the one who hid all the electronics, he just helped me pack it up after we escaped the dragonriders. I even snuck him out from under the dragonriders noses. And got the horses. It was me who thought of selling it. He was just the one who knew you.”

F’mart chuckled. “Still-you must have planned on killing him all this time.”

She shrugged. “You’re in this business even deeper than I am, T’ovar. Surely you understand.”

F’mart nodded. “I do. I’d probably have shot him myself, given the chance. But he did supply me with lucrative stuff.”

“I can get more. It’s good stuff in my pack. Now are you ready to pay for it?”

Oh, shit, F’mart thought, I don’t have any money!

His wits scrambled. Shards, I hope she doesn’t see through me.

“Uh, well, it depends. I..I don’t buy something sight unseen. Open the pack.”

She’d seen it. “You don’t have the money. Do you.”

“Maybe I don’t. Maybe I do. I don’t trust you. Open the pack.”

Wait a minute, she thought. Her instincts were shouting. His shoulder. His shoulder!!

“You..you’re not T’ovar.”

“Oh, I’m not? Then how did I know Scar, and to meet you here?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but you’re wearing a Weyrleader braid. You’re a Weyrleader.”

Shit, the men in the cave all thought, we didn’t think of that. K’ndar slapped his forehead. D’mitran swore, softly. Lief looked at his men and signaled. As one, they loaded their crossbows and waited.

I’m an idiot, Lief thought, I’m asleep at the post. I didn’t think of having him remove the braid. I should have told F’mart to leave us a clear field of fire. I’m dumb as a box of rocks. Move, F’mart. Move back from the pack.

F’mart scoffed. But the unfamiliar feeling of fear twinged. He suddenly realized that he’d never fought a woman in his life. It was easy, fighting arrogant men with more brawn than brain, or addled by alcohol. This isn’t a battle of arms, it’s a battle of wits. This woman is different than any other. She’s not a woman so much as a bipedal snake.

He laughed. “Vika. Do I look old enough to be a weyrleader? Leading a hundred dragonriders?”

She looked hard at him. I don’t know much about dragonriders other than I hate them, she thought.

“You don’t look old enough to be out of nappies,” she sneered.

F’mart nodded, smiling wryly.

“Right. You’re quick as lightning. You’re the first one to ever question my wearing a Weyrleader’s braid! Want to know why I wear it? It gets me in Gathers, in Holds, anywhere, without being questioned. It gets me meals at a Holder’s table, it gets me Benden wine. It gets me access to powerful people, wealthy people, people who want to make money without having to answer uncomfortable questions. Do you see any other dragonriders? No. I work on my own. For that matter, you’re right again. T’ovar isn’t my real name. The only one who knows my real name is me. It’s an alias. Just like Scar’s name was an alias.”

Vika nodded smugly, her vanity stroked. “I knew it. Right away, I thought, no, he’s an impostor. You’re not THE T’ovar, the one Scar traded with. You just happened to see my packhorse and took advantage of it.”

“There you are wrong, Vika. I am most definitely that T’ovar. How else would you have known to be here? But, who is T’ovar? I’m the person who contracted with Scar. NOT you. Why should I be honest with you? You’re not honest with me.”

“I don’t do honesty. It gets people killed.”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. Open the pack, we’ll see if you’re being honest or not. If what Scar claimed what’s in it is true, the money is yours. It might even be a, let’s say, a pact, like you said. A trading agreement. The more I think of it, the better it sounds. No one suspects a woman of smuggling. You can work without suspicion. If you can get more of this quality stuff, this could be the beginning of a very lucrative arrangement.”

Hmm, Vika thought. He’s right. This could be very advantageous. He has the contacts, I have the brains.

“Right. I’m much better at keeping secrets than Scar was. And I know where to get more of these, um, ‘assets’. So you’re good for the money? A hundred percent?”

“Not until I see what’s in the pack. Then we’ll discuss money.”

“Scar said you promised a hundred marks,” she lied.

F’mart laughed. It relieved his jitters.

“A hundred marks? Seriously? You must really have a haul. Open the pack and I’ll be the judge of whether it’s worth a hundred marks.”

If I kill him now, I’ll have the money AND the pack, she thought.

If nothing else, F’mart was a keen observer of body language. He saw her coiling up. She’s going to attack.

Careful, Kenth said, Get between my forelegs.

“Back off,” Vika said, “I don’t trust you.”

“You’re the one with the crossbow. Do you see me with one? I don’t even have a sword. Drop your crossbow,” F’mart responded, a frisson of fear running up his back. “I bet you’re a crack shot, and I don’t trust you, either.”

Um, she thought. No matter. I can’t kill him with the crossbow, he’s too close. He’d jump me before I could load it.

She pulled the crossbow off her back and carefully set it down.

“And the quiver.”

Shaff, she thought, but she removed the quiver from her belt.

“Toss it over here,” F’mart said.

“You’re afraid of me? Sissy,” Vika sneered. She tossed the quiver away.

“I’m not afraid. I’m wary. You’re dangerous, far more dangerous than Scar ever hoped to be. That’s a necessary quality for someone in this business. Anyone who could kill Scar is someone to beware of.”

Ooh, no one ever called me ‘dangerous’. I LIKE it, she thought.

“Yes,” she said, savoring the words, “more dangerous than you can ever know. Now back off. You do have a dagger.”

F’mart backed up until he was between Kenth’s forelegs.

Yessss, Lief breathed.

Vika pulled her dagger, cherishing its exquisite balance, and thanked the day she’d had the grip made to her exact specifications. She began to cut the knots binding the ropes, then something about the pack gave her pause. I don’t remember it looking like this, she thought. I don’t remember the canvas looking this new.

“Well? Open it,” F’mart pressed.

“I am, I am,” she said, her wits scattering. What did it mean? I need to think. I need time, she thought. “Scar tied it up and I can’t figure out his knots. Just give me a moment.”

The ropes fell away. She tugged on the canvas flap to open the pack.

A bundle of insect infested sheepskins fell out. Here was a boot missing the sole. There was a holed pot, suitable only for melting down by a metalsmith. A tattered, unraveled wreck of a sweater, a child’s broken toy, a broken saddle tree, a mildewed set of reins, a wooden comb missing all but three teeth, half of a wooden block, and a tangled mass of worn out rope.

She gasped. That bastard, that bastard Scar, she thought. He cheated me. He cheated ME!

“Huh. That doesn’t look worth a hundred marks,” F’mart taunted. “I’d say you owe me a hundred marks just for wasting my time.”

I am so screwed, she thought, panicking.

She flung her dagger at F’mart.

It went flying sideways. Kenth roared in fury.

Three crossbow bolts thunked into her chest.

Her mouth forming an astonished O, she met F’mart’s eyes-then collapsed.

The men poured from the caves. The three arms men pounded each other on the backs. They looked down on the dead Vika. “Great shot!” “Look at that! A palm can cover all three hits!” “Whose hit first?” “It was all three at once!”

The dragons came out with their riders.

“How did you do that, F’mart?” asked one of the arms men, “The dagger went flying sideways!”

“Kenth did it,” F’mart said, trying to master the adrenaline rush. “Dragons can knock things away.”

D’mitran, K’ndar and Random ran over to the fallen Vika. Lief followed, a huge grin on his face. “Well, that settles the problem of where we were going to put her!”

They looked down at Vika. Whether she was still alive enough to see them, they didn’t know. Or care. Random resisted the urge to kick her.

He looked up at the arms men. “Well done. You’ve cleansed Pern.”

F’mart patted Kenth on one of his great forelegs. He noticed his hands were shaking from the andrenaline. Kenth rumbled and pressed both sides of his body, his legs a living, protective fortress.

His heart slowed.

Thank you. Thank you. You saved my life.

Of course!

I am so grateful you’re the only one who can hear me think, he said to Kenth. No one else will know I almost shit my pants.