She really wasn’t interested. To his annoyance, he still was.
Leaving the princess, he waited for a moment until he heard the door latch, and then he strode across the deck, his heavy boots thumping on the steel plates. Given there was a possibility they might have to leave quickly, most of his crew remained on board. Jorah was in the iron bridge watching for trouble. Others were performing quick maintenance and keeping the ship primed.
Tanzie joined him, looking fierce with her scowl and her hair braided tight to her scalp. She wore sabers by her side. No firearms. The Tawa port authority had rules against them. The island allowed very little mechanical technology onto its shores. No computers or electronics of any kind went past the customs area. The only weapons that made it to shore were the kind wielded by hand, which ranged from short daggers to swords and spears. Whips proved to be popular as well.
The island itself was a perfect circle that went from sandy golden beaches to lush greenery that rose into a long dormant volcano, the hollow bowl of which was filled to the brim with water. The lake was said to be so crystal clear and fresh, that it could cure all ills. If you could afford it.
Bordering the lake was the Citadel where the Emperor of the island lived. In rings layering the mountain, amidst the massive jungle trees, perched large homes, spread apart from each other. At the base of the volcano, the houses clustered closer together with the areas past them cultivated into gardens with fruit trees and vegetable plants interwoven with paths leading to the beach. A paradise that sustained itself.
Visitors were constrained to a few areas unless they had verifiable permission from the palace to be there. The broker—buried in the market, where no one was allowed to hawk their wares above a whisper—was one of the acceptable locations for visitation. Darius strode past the richest fabrics, the most intricate hand-shaped jewelry, the tastiest smells. It was the racks of clothes that had him gesturing to Tanzie. “See if you can find a few things.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can handle the Ghost.” He’d done business with him a few times before, mostly the sale of procured treasure, the rare and dangerous kind.
Ignoring the enticements all around, he headed for the building made of marble blocks, a contrast to those made of reclaimed driftwood and coral. The marble must have been expensive to have hauled to the island, but impressive given it rose two stories high. The intricately carved silver doors opened at his approach, and yet he saw no sign of anyone holding them when he entered.
Inside, the marble continued, broken only by furniture contrived out of luxurious wood, the grain swirling in infinite loops. More wasted signs of wealth.
A slim figure waited, dressed in a sarong that wrapped over a shoulder, around the upper chest, cinched at the waist, and then draped in such a way as to leave a slit that exposed a fair bit of leg. Their hair was piled atop the head with curly strands escaping. The eyes were heavily lined, the lips rouged. The voice was a soft murmur. “How may I help you, Captain Darius?”
No surprise an employee of the Ghost would know who walked through the doors. Information was a broker’s main business, after all.
“I’ve got some news your boss will want to hear.”
“The master is—”
“Going to want to cancel his plans to talk to me.” Darius smiled. “Now run along and tell him before I find him myself.”
The lips pursed in disapproval. The chin lifted with attitude, and the sniff as they turned proved eloquent.
The squeak satisfying when he slapped the pert ass and said, “Try moving a little faster. I’m a busy man.”
The mincing steps quickened. Darius smirked and paced the room, knowing he was being watched. He stopped in front of a mirror, showing all his teeth to whomever sat behind.
In short order the mincing receptionist returned, no smile of welcome, only a terse, “The master will see you. Follow me.”
The swaying hips led to a door that put them inside a glass box that gazed upon a lush garden courtyard. A glance as they rose showed a pulley system with a pair of loincloth-clad servants pushing on a wheel. Up they went.
The door opened onto a rooftop deck with marble flooring, raised in an edge to form a knee-high barrier. Not enough to stop anyone from going over.
A pavilion sat on the opposite end of the rooftop, the pillars white, draped in see-through fabric that fluttered lightly because of the servants waving giant fans. The light breeze helped with the humidity in the air.
He shifted into the shade but was prevented from stepping on carpet. The receptionist gripped his arm and looked at his feet.
“Seriously?” he grumbled. He shed his boots, his bare toes digging into the soft fabric. It was nice. He should get some for his cabin.
The broker he’d come to see floated in a vat of something. Not water. Too murky for that. A good thing probably. The fluid covered Ghost to a few inches below his shoulders, big broad things covered in gray scales. The hard casing rose up his neck and lightened where it gave him sideburns. They spiked atop his head giving him a spiny crown. His actual face was pale flesh, so very pale. The eyes pure black, no whites at all.
A hybrid human of some sort with no discernible power, and yet everyone feared the Ghost. A reputation Darius could only strive for.
The Ghost eyed him with his uncanny dark gaze. The probing intensity demanded Darius spill his guts.
Instead, he flopped on a chair without an invite. Darius didn’t let anyone intimidate him. Not anymore.
Ghost smiled. It had layers of teeth. “As impertinent as usual.”
“You mean not in the mood to ass kiss?” Darius arched a brow. “Do you even have an arse?”
“Come closer and find out.”
“Nah, I already had a bath this month.” As if he’d get close enough to be touched.
“My assistant said you indicated knowledge I might be interested in.”
Pulling on Jorah’s trick of driving folks nuts, Darius kept it simple. “Yup.”
“And what would that information be?”
“You don’t seriously expect me to spill it for free, do you?” Darius snorted as he bobbed forward and picked a confectionary from the plate in front of him.
“I can’t exactly offer a price without knowing what it concerns.”
“A princess.” The only thing he said before popping the candy into his mouth. Sweet and salty. Damned good. He closed his eyes to enjoy it with a groan, ignoring the Ghost for a moment.
Long enough the broker snapped. “Which princess?”
Darius savored a sip of wine before replying, “The one worth a lot of dust.”
That caused the liquid in the giant tub to slosh as the broker shoved from the far edge and moved close enough to lean his arms on the rim. “What do you know of her?”
“What will you pay me to find out?” Darius countered.
Ghost wasn’t the type to accept anything he said for free. It was a well-known fact pirates always expected to be paid.
“How much do you want?” The sly riposte was how the broker ensured he didn’t start higher than Darius expected.
“My port fees in Tawa covered for the next five years and the rest of these sweets. They are good,” he said, popping another in his mouth for a sugary burst with a tart after-bite that was mouthwatering.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you ten years. Because it’s not as if you’ll be around to use them. Did you know the odds in the gambling house say you’ll not be sailing within the year?” The broker chuckled, and the water jiggled.