Eye of the Goddess Read online

She shook her head. "Now's not the time to teach the crew new tricks."

  A change to lateen would require many more alterations to the ship than just a new mast and rigging. Most galleys on the Kartassa Sea were rigged for the triangular lateen sails. But for the past decade the square sail had become more popular, especially for use on the open seas. Reaper was built in the Paccotti Isles over twenty years back.

  They all returned to Reaper and Master Turgut examined the damage with several of his assistants. After a price was agreed upon and half was paid, he stated that they would begin work in two days. It would take that long to carve the dragon head, and prepare a mast to fit into the mast-fish on Reaper. Replacing the mast would be easy, since the mast was designed to be quickly removed by the crews while at sea. Most of the work would be repairing the fore and stern decks, but he expected the work to go quickly.

  Tara called the other two captains over and apprised them of the timetable.

  "While you were gone, we learned that Padraig is home on the other side this island," Lujak said. "Word is he is stocking up for a raid on Varissa's Sacred Sword convent."

  "He is?" she said, voice low and menacing. "I think it's time we took care of Padraig and Orcsbane, once and for all."

  She said they would all set sail in five days to setup their ambush of Padraig’s Orcsbane. Until that time, all three crews were restricted to the ship. She didn’t want word of their plans to reach Padraig.

  "I have a better idea, Tara," Lujak said. "Why don't we raid Padraig's instead. We can sink Orcsbane, kill him and his motley crew, and take his house as our own."

  "I like the way you think," Tara said. A big smile spread across her face at the prospect of having their very one fortified base of operations in Amana. "I even have an idea on how we'll surprise them and capture the place, but let me think about it a bit more."

  Then she ordered Rolf to take Valiant and warn the convent. Just in case.

  "Aye, Captain," Rolf said. "The convent’s about a day’s sail upriver, so we’ll return with time to spare."

  "I’m counting on you, my friend," Tara said and hugged him.

  They said their farewells quickly. They watched Valiant leave, and then she noticed Lujak look around while he rubbed his big hands together happily. He indicated a large inn at the head of their pier.

  "What about ordering a few kegs of ale from the Trade Wind?" he said. "We can celebrate tonight, and then begin our preparations to raid Padraig's island castle tomorrow."

  Caruso’s eyes lighted up as well. The crew might be restricted, but she never said anything about no drinking.

  "Do it. The crews earned it," Tara replied. Then shouting, "Dogs! You made me proud during the Qodistanis' cowardly ambush! I'm afraid you are restricted to the ships, but I'll make it up to you after we deal with…our friend." She glanced at the merchantman across the pier from her. Several crewmen were watching them warily. "In the meantime, I'll buy the ale and meat!"

  "What about wenches?" someone on Swiftwater called.

  "Who do you think I'm trying to keep you from speaking to?"

  They laughed. Tara shook her head woefully, but with a big smile.

  "You boys are single-minded, aren't you?" she said. "It's one of the things I love the most about you."

  "I'll arrange it with the Trade Wind," Lujak said. "Do you want to come with me?"

  Tara gave him a wary eye. She knew how his mind worked. Lujak would do everything in his power to lure her up into one of the rooms. And they'd be there until morning. Though, her body did get all tingly hot at the prospect.

  "No. I can't," she said. "Sorry. But don't worry, I'll take good care of you when I get back."

  "Where are you going?" Caruso asked.

  Lujak gave him a dirty look. Tara sighed. Maybe leaving those two together, with lots of ale, wasn't a good idea.

  "I’m taking Ciara out to celebrate her promotion." Then looking at Ciara, "You’re buying."

  "You’re on," Ciara said with a smile.

  Lujak and Caruso perked up.

  "That’s right," Caruso said, grinning at the new third mate. "When you get promoted, you have to buy all the drinks, and I’m thirsty."

  "Who invited you?" Ciara said, looking at the pirate with one eyebrow raised.

  "Yeah," Tara said. "You two argued against her being promoted. So tonight it’s just me and Ciara."

  "I agree. Who needs men anyway," Ciara said.

  "Well, I do," Tara said. "You have heard of my rather naughty reputation, right?"

  They laughed, while the other two mates scowled.

  "I don’t think it would be wise for two women to walk the streets of this city without protection," Lujak said. The look on his face said he knew he'd said the wrong thing again. "Wait…"

  Tara whipped out her sword and pressed the point in Lujak’s chest, eyes narrowing to slits. Lujak held his hands palms out, even as he slowly backed away. Tara paced him, keeping her blade over his heart.

  "I have all the protection I need," Tara snarled. "I don’t need any man to defend me."

  "Just a poor choice of words," Lujak said.

  "Indeed," Tara said, eyeing him narrowly a long moment. She sheathed her enchanted sword, Reaver of Souls. Then, "The crews are restricted to ship, so you two are ordered to watch and tend to them. Get them a few barrels of ale, some meat. No talking to strangers. No women."

  "You’re restricting the mates as well?" Lujak asked.

  "That’s what I just did, lover," Tara said, winking.

  With that Tara took Ciara by the hand and they headed into the city. The two mates, and those of the crew that had witnessed the exchange, silently watched them walking away down the pier.

  "Do you ever worry that you'll push them too far?" Ciara asked, slanting a look back at the ship.

  "All of the time," Tara said. She sighed. "I hate to admit it, but the prospect is kind of exciting."

  "You're a bad, bad woman," Ciara replied. "That's what I love the most about you. Are you sure you don't have any Rynaran blood?"

  "Nope, pure barbaric Takaran blood in my veins."

  Chapter 3

  It was early evening when Tara and Ciara stopped outside of the Battle Dragon Tavern. It was a sturdy stone building. Along one side a set of wooden stairs led from the street to the roof. Rooftop beer gardens were starting to pop up around the city. The rooftops were the coolest part of the city, after all. The tavern occupied the bottom of three floors and a brothel the other two.

  "Have you ever been here before?" Tara asked, liking the sounds coming out of the tavern's open door and windows. Ciara swayed a little when she came to a stop. Tara shook her head. "You're drunk. Elves can't hold their ale."

  The two women were getting around. That would be the third tavern they'd visited. Tara didn't think she was drunk, but she did get the giggles way too often now. Ciara was much worse.

  "In your besotted dreams," the elfmaid said. "I've had just enough to feel good. I'll feel even better after another mug." She looked at the faded wooden placard over the door, and then looked around. "Why is it called…Oh."

  The tavern took its name from the aerie for the giant dragons across the street. Since dragons were rare in the Lowlands there was only one small aerie in Amana. A dragon aerie was the equivalent to stables for horses, or maybe more accurately, mews for hunting hawks. The aerie in Amana covered an area of one acre, whereas some of the aeries in the Takar Mountains covered as much as twenty acres. In Tara's home city there were four aeries of ten or more acres, plus many smaller ones.

  "Names mean nothing," Tara said. "They better not water down their ale, or there will be trouble."

  Ciara giggled as she followed Tara to the door. One of the dragons across the street let out a thunderous screech. Ciara jumped and spun around wide-eyed.

  "Gods, those things always give me the willies," Ciara said. "I always feel like...dinner, around them. You do know they hunt people in the wild?"

  "So I've
heard," Tara said, glancing back. She frowned. Her only experience with them wasn't pleasant. "Have you ever ridden on one?"

  "Once," Ciara admitted. "I got air sick. I hate them."

  Tara stared at her. Was there such a thing as air sickness? Why would someone get sick just by riding a dragon?

  "I thought your mother trained dragons?"

  "Yes. She trains them for the Rynaran Imperial Air Cavalry," Ciara admitted, shrugging. "My sister is an air cavalry officer, too. I never liked them. I really don't like being so high in the air. My feet will stay firmly on the ground, thank you."

  "You and I are so different," Tara said. She looked at the night-shrouded aerie and goose-flesh spread across her shoulders. "I'm drawn to anything that scares me. I have to confront it. I have to beat it."

  She could see herself astride a mighty dragon, soaring through the air in complete control of that powerful animal. That control of raw power was one of the things she loved about riding war horses, and she could only image the thrill of riding a dragon.

  "I've always wanted to fly. When I was fifteen I volunteered for training, but my father forbad it," Tara said. "I think it was really my mother behind his objection. She worried too much."

  "I understand that. More than a few women have been swept up and carried away by warriors on dragons," Ciara said.

  "Don't I know! I was captured off the walls during a siege three years later and carried away by a dragon rider," Tara said matter-of-factly. She crinkled her nose at the thought. An expression of distaste flashed across her mobile face. Was that only seven months ago? "Then I was tied across his saddle, so didn't enjoy the flying part much."

  "What happened?

  Her breath caught. Tara rarely spoke of her life before piracy. Only Lujak knew of her trials and tribulations before Captain Padraig forced her to join his pirate crew.

  "Well, I was a woman captured, so use your imagination," she said through clenched teeth. Ciara grimaced and nodded. "Then the prisoners were marched to Qodistan and sold into slavery. They sold me to a merchant, who couldn't handle me, so sold me to a pimp." She shrugged. "I proved difficult even for him, so went through a few owners before I was eventually sold to a slave house, which shipped me off to be trained as a dancer."

  "Why are you such a bad dancer if you were trained?"

  "What? You wouldn't know a good dancer if she sat on your face. But I never got that training, because brigands attacked the caravan and broke open the wagon holding me," Tara said. "I escaped in the mayhem of the moment. And I joined the merry crew of Reaper less than a month after that."

  Ciara gawked at her, aghast. "Wow. I didn't realize. You seem so indomitable to me."

  "No one is indomitable," Tara said. "After all, Padraig forced me to join his crew against my will. Big mistake on his part, because I vowed vengeance that day and that lead to me usurping his captaincy."

  Laugher erupted inside the tavern, interrupting their dark reveries. Tara glanced in, mouth watering at the prospect of some more ale. Maybe even something a little stronger.

  "Forget the dragons," Ciara said, turning her attention to the boisterous tavern. "Let's wade in."

  Tara followed her friend through the crowd to the bar. There weren't any empty tables. The pirate beauties easily avoided all of the grasping hands reaching for them. Well, Tara "let" an elderly man pinch her butt, and he giggled like a little boy. They ordered ales and turned to check the place out.

  "We could get in so much trouble here," Tara said, biting her lip. She thought about Lujak, wishing she'd at least brought him along. Of course, now she could flirt to her heart's content without starting a fight. "Nothing but big, strong warrior types."

  "I know, why are we paying for our own mugs?"

  The tavern was a favorite haunt for mercenaries and riders, as dragon riders were called. There was a small ensemble playing lively tunes in a corner and several small stages for the serving girls to dance upon. At the end of the bar a staircase led to the brothel above, with the girls working the tavern for customers. Tara counted three large groups of mercenaries singing and joking. It looked like a great place to her.

  "By Varissa's Savage Sword, I swear this is the best place so far," Ciara said.

  "Gods be praised!" Tara said, emerald eyes atwinkle. "So many men, so few women, and so little time to enjoy them."

  "Let's grab a couple," Ciara said and drained her mug.

  "Best idea you've had all day," Tara said.

  Tara followed Ciara through the crowd while checking the tables for an interesting looking man. Twice she had to pull Ciara away from tables full of unsavory looking men. With a little ale in her Ciara's judgment in men took a turn for the worst.

  As they made their way to the back of the room, a large half-orc, half-elf grabbed Ciara and pulled her into his lap. He was tall and stoutly built, with long blonde hair and mustache in contrast to his orcish gray skin. His eyes were sky blue and filled with mirth. He wore a dirty brown wool shirt and leather trousers stuffed into tall boots. Ciara was obviously impressed.

  "Sweetheart, where you going?" he asked in a deep bass.

  "Nowhere, I've found what I'm looking for," she purred. "What's it going to take to get you to buy me a drink?"

  "Your lips will get you anything," he said and kissed her.

  Tara moved on looking for a man for herself, but none seemed to strike her fancy. Then she saw a big human. He was sitting at a table against the wall. His long black hair was held out of his face with a red headband, marking him as a dragon rider and warrior. He wore a red wool shirt with red leather trousers and black boots. His black eyes were intense like the fierce dragons he rode. But there was one problem – the blonde in his lap.

  The dancer was extremely beautiful with deep blue eyes, red lips, and long golden blonde hair. The warrior had pulled her red silk dress down to expose her breasts and then pushed the skirt up over her hips.

  That is my kind of trouble, Tara thought. The sweetest sensations rippled through her suddenly overheated body. Everything about him called to her in a deep, dark way. I have to be strong.

  Tara walked up slowly and sat on the edge of the table and admired him. He hadn't noticed her yet, being totally engrossed with the blonde's lips and breasts. They were kissing deeply while his hands explored her body. Tara's breathing became shallow as she imagined those hands on her.

  Bet I can take your mind off her, she thought, feeling warm slickness between her legs. I'm going to regret this.

  She looked around the room. Other than Ciara, there wasn't anyone she knew. There would be trouble if Lujak found out how she spent her time in taverns. He was all about monogamy, for her at least. The dog thought he could tumble any woman he wanted, but she had to stay loyal to him. Tara had other ideas. She had just as much right to a good time as any man. And as much as she loved and adored Lujak, Tara didn't think of him as her bondmate. He was just the biggest and best lover on Reaper, so she claimed him. She didn't consider their relationship exclusive.

  A thrill surged through her. Tara knew there would be trouble, and she longed for it. The dancer wasn't really a threat, but that might not keep her from attacking. Catfights over men were pretty common in taverns.

  Standing up, Tara reached for the blonde to pull her off the warrior when an arm encircled her waist. She was pulled onto the lap of another of the riders at the table. He was a younger blonde man, much the same as the other.

  "He's busy, but I'm not, sweetie," he said and took her lips in a demanding kiss.

  Tara returned the kiss with passion. Pulling back a second, she looked him over. He wasn't bad, but she preferred the other one. She took his face in both her hands and kissed him hard as his hands went for her breasts. She avoided his hands expertly as she pushed off of his lap and stood up.

  "Not this time, Sugar Lips," Tara said, and then turned back to her first choice as the other men at the table laughed.

  The warrior and dancer were both staring at T
ara now. She stepped over to stand next to him. Fixing the rider with her most seductive look, she ran her hands down over her large breasts, across her flat belly, and finally over her well-rounded hips. Then she bent over and kissed him softly.

  Standing up, the warrior dropped the dancer on the floor to hit with a loud grunt. "Let me introduce myself," he said. "I am Ronus of Dragon Roost."

  "I am yours," Tara purred and moved into his arms. "Call me Tara."

  They kissed deeply and then Tara pushed him back into his chair. She straddled his lap, facing him. He immediately attacked her lips while running his hands through her silky hair. But it didn't take long for his hands to find her breasts.

  "Wait," Tara said, glowering at him. "Do you have a room?"

  That's when the blonde dancer kicked one stiletto-heeled foot into Tara's lower back, with the sharp heel pounding into the bony place just above Tara's tailbone. Pain lanced up her spine and down her legs. Screaming in rage, Tara spun around and off the rider's lap, taking a defensive position as she reached for Reaver.

  "He's mine," the dancer said, which brought Tara back to her senses before she pulled her sword.

  Rage burned deep within Tara. She wanted nothing more than to rip the whore's eyes out, but that would be a dishonorable deed. The woman was clearly incapable of defending herself from a true warrior.

  "He belongs to me now," Tara said, trying hard not to sneer.

  The dancer then slapped her across the face with amazing strength. Tara kicked her in the belly and then kicked her feet out from under her. Then reaching up above her right shoulder, Tara pulled her sword in one smooth move.

  "Don't kill me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't kill me," the dancer cried.

  Tara crashed back to reality and sheathed her blade. She found herself somewhat embarrassed that she had pulled a blade on an unarmed and untrained opponent.

  "I'm sorry," she muttered, face heating up.

  Even Ciara was staring incredulously at her.

  I've been drinking too much, she thought, massaging both temples gently. I could've dishonored myself over some unwashed bastard I just met.