“No wonder this feral cat refused to tell me her name,” Heguir chuckled after Qaansoole had said her piece about the warrior woman lying chained on the floor. “She will make me a tidy profit. The gold shall be a balm to my wounds she inflicted, as will the knowledge that she is delivered to the hands of those she sought to flee. Now, my good and loyal Qaansoole, you have earned your reward.” He lifted the silver hummingbird charm and turned it upside down.
“Wait!” Qaansoole shouted. “I would have a different reward.”
“You forget that you are no warlord’s consort here, wench,” the flesh merchant snarled. “You do not dictate to me.”
“I have given you the key to your revenge upon this woman who wounded you, Heguir,” Qaansoole answered, holding his eyes with a steely gaze. “You will have your satisfaction of gold. But where is my satisfaction for the hurts she has piled on my head? I trusted her as my sworn companion and she abandoned me. I placed the life of my son in her hands, and she left us to wander, alone and friendless in the desert.* I stain my fingers for your profit while my beloved son labors in your mines, all because of her. I would have my revenge!”
Heguir smiled at the small woman’s fury. “I had forgotten how much passion lives in that flinty heart of yours, Qaansoole. It is good to see your blood rise. But I cannot let you kill her—”
“No, of course not. Death is too good for this traitorous she-dog,” Qaansoole spat. “I have no blade and her neck is too thick for my small hands. I ask only a private chamber with her until the sun sets. I swear she will not bleed … on the outside.”
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* Sabit’s parting from Qaansoole and Qays is described in Wayfarings of Sabit: Bazaar of Death.
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Wayfarings of Sabit: Chains is copyright (c) 2018 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every Thursday (and the occasional Monday). You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller Find more sword and sorcery fiction at http://ipressgames.com/fiction/.