- Chapter 8 -

Previously...

Marishanna was a very hard person to impress, but The Phantasia managed to do it. The stairs leading below the street were rather more steep than the adventuress would have liked - they were also made for someone nearly twice her size - but the club's exquisite interior instantly earned her approval. Sultry, subdued lighting, fine carpet underfoot, and a bewildering mixture of music pouring out into the main hall through archways to either side were most welcoming to the Salvandireen girl, as were the scents of warm female flesh and hot leather.

She also enjoyed the attention she received from almost everyone who crossed her path. They had plainly never seen her kind before, and sometimes stared, even though they knew it was improper. Marishanna was happy to return their stares, especially if the person involved was female, and attractive.

One stare, however, was quite unwelcome. The stare of a tall, well-built female warrior with the scales and head of a serpent.

"No children allowed", growled the fearsome creature.

"Do I look like a child to you?", Marishanna retorted, thrusting her breasts forward.

The snake-woman glanced down, and her yellow eyes narrowed. "We have a strict policy concerning weapons", she continued, quite unflustered. "Leave the sword with me."

Marishanna had no need to be concerned about this request, for she could call Silver Death into her hand from miles away. The serpentine warrior had phrased the request as an order, though, and Marishanna only took orders from those she truly respected.

"The sword stays with me", she declared, unwavering. "I will, however, make one concession to your demand..."

The girl took a length of cord from a pouch hanging on the back of her sword-belt, and proceeded to bind Silver Death into its scabbard with an intricate "peace-knot", an accepted symbol of non-hostility on her birth-world of Deva'Ath.

The snake-woman watched closely, observing the construction of the knot with a careful, analytical gaze. When it was complete, she was clearly satisfied that the knot would hold and was not some kind of elaborate fake that would slip free in an instant.

"Bare steel, and it better be for self-defence", warned the tall, dark-scaled female.

"If you've done your job, I should not need to", Marishanna replied. She would normally be haughty and disdainful in such a situation, but she treated the serpent-woman with unusual respect. She is a warrior, after all, she thought, and a good one, if my instincts haven't failed me.

A choice of four performance areas lay before Marishanna: a room decorated throughout in red with plenty of leather to sit or recline on; a chamber like the interior of an ancient temple, with marble pillars and arches, and a sky-scene with clouds painted on the ceiling; a room with brighter lights than most and a stage surrounded on all sides by mirrors...

The fourth stage was the one Marishanna felt most drawn to. The room was darkened, with only strobing lights to cut through the gloom and illuminate the fog that poured from the stage. A single dancer was performing when Marishanna looked in, a tall, athletic yellow-haired woman in scanty snake-skin. She was not the enigmatic and fascinating Raven, however, and the little warrior-woman took little interest in her.

This place chooses well when it comes to dancers, the adventuress thought as she visited each stage in turn, having a small glass of wine at the bar and sitting to watch the girls. They were all beautiful, accomplished dancers, and a few even kindled a spark of interest within the Salvandireen girl, but each time Marishanna compared them with Raven, they were little more than a passing distraction.

"She's not here", hissed Marishanna, checking all the stages again when the girls changed shifts, and finding on sign of Raven. "Why...?"

Returning to the relatively subdued surroundings of the Red Lounge, Marishanna saw one of the dancers she had taken a liking to, relaxing at the bar. She was essentially elven in appearance - her race were called "Shaelin" Marishanna had learned - with long brown hair and a most distinctive taste in boots. The left one was white, the right black, and both were shiny reached just past mid-thigh, the tops coming to up to a point at the front.

"Ashyra, isn't it?", said the diminutive warrior-woman, a sly smile on her face and a swagger in her spike-heeled step.

The dancer looked round, and seemed amazed to see someone who, at first glance, appeared to be a child of her own race. The look of surprise did not last in the light of closer observation, and faded quickly. "You're not Ershalin, are you?", she asked.

Marishanna recognised the name. The Ershalin, her Shaelin crewmen had told her, were smaller versions of their own kind, and were rarely encountered by any race. The adventuress got the impression that they had some kind of mythical significance and power...

Her kind are very often psychically gifted, Marishanna recalled as well. Better not risk a lie that might be exposed later...

"No", she admitted. "I don't believe our races are related in any way. I'm not native to this reality."

The look of surprise returned to Ashyra's enchanted face. "Really?", said the dancer. "You're a Foundling, then? Now this is beyond coincidence - I must attract Foundlings, some way or another..."

Foundlings - a term folk in these parts use to describe outworlders found adrift in the Star-Sea, or otherwise displaced, Marishanna reminded herself. "I suppose that's a valid description of my situation", she said. "You know others...?"

"Sure", replied Ashyra, after downing what was left of the contents of her wine glass, and setting it down next to three others. "There's Raven...and Strides-Tall, but I guess the Star-Sea's claimed another light from my life in her case..."

The girl's not well accustomed with drink, it seems, thought the Salvandireen adventuress. Maybe there's some entertainment to be had here... "Raven, eh? I was hoping to see her tonight..."

"She's off tonight", said the dancer, accepting another glass poured from a bottle that plainly did not contain wine. "Lookin' for a ship - she wants t'go after Strides-Tall. M'scared I'll lose her too if she does..."

Marishanna smiled inside. Excellent...

"I might be able to help. I have a ship and crew standing idle in port right now."

Ashyra perked up straight away. "Y'do? Great...I think..."

The girl sat up, and nearly slipped off her bar-stool. Marishanna was there to catch her, and help her back up. "You should go home", the adventuress told her. "Sleep will calm your fears."

The Shaelin dancer giggled. "Not...not iffen I drown'em first..."

Ashyra reached for her glass, but Marishanna swept it out of range of her hand. "Seek solace this way, and you'll be doing it for the rest of your life", she warned the dancing girl. "I've seen it ruin many. I would hate to see it get its claws in you, too."

The dancer shook her head, trying to clear the alcohol-induced fog from her mind, but instead ended up making herself dizzy, nearly losing her balance - and the contents of her stomach. "S'right", she mumbled, sounding rather ashamed of herself. "Didn't let go of myself b'fore..."

"I will see you home, if you will allow me", Marishanna said softly, stroking the girl's hair. "Would Raven be there, maybe?"

"Yeah, sure", answered Ashyra weakly. "I c'n call her home...yeah, I'll do that, an' you can talk about your...your ship - while I sleep this off..."

Marishanna leapt up onto the bar and sat near Ashyra's shoulder, comforting her as the Shaelin girl let her stomach settle, and prepared herself for the trip home. The Salvandireen adventuress had fully earned the dancer's trust by the time the carriage had arrived at the stage door to take the girl home.

The night was drawing to its end, and each rejection Raven received from the ships she visited was more agonising than the last. Some captains would regretfully refuse, and others sent her away with harsh words ringing in her ears, but the general outcome was plain - no-one wanted to go anywhere near Jaglundar's Rock, and probably still would not even if it turned out to be made of gold.

From time to time, Raven sensed Ashyra's emotions, and found herself sharing some of the Shaelin girl's feelings. Even from here, almost on the other side of Freeport, Raven could tell that Ashyra was now comparing her brother's fate with Strides-Tall's plight, and that was all the girl needed to drive herself into the deepest depths of despair. It does seem hopeless, Raven admitted to herself, seeing now that her reputation as a dancer was nowhere near enough to convince men to put their lives in danger. I may as well go home - if I can't help Strides-Tall, I can at least save Ashyra from her sadness.

Raven's heart had grown so heavy that she lacked the desire to call forth her wings and fly home, so she headed for the transport office and had them call a carriage for her. The driver recognised her from the club, but she was in no mood to chat with one of her admirers. She simply sat in the darkened passenger compartment of the carriage and gazed blankly into the shadowy corners, hoping that the darkness would swallow up her sorrow.

When that failed to bring her any relief, the night-dark-haired dancer turned instead to "listening out" for Ashyra's emotions. Something seemed to have lightened the girl's spirits considerably, but to begin with, Raven could not tell exactly what had eased the girl's inner pain. With anyone else, the task of finding this out would have been next to impossible, but Raven was closer to Ashyra than anyone else in The Realm, and her emotions rang out clearer and farther than those of any other.

She's not alone, Raven realised, feeling none of the inner emptiness associated with being alone within her friend. Chal'Shi, perhaps...?

The empath gave that possibility but a moment's consideration, then discarded it. No - there isn't that feeling of familiarity...

Raven tried to seek out an emotional "fingerprint" for whoever was with Ashyra. At first, she sensed nothing, in itself not a great surprise given that home was still nearly half a city away, but she soon became anxious as the carriage moved out of the Port Quarter and into the Market Quarter, where the town-house and The Phantasia could be found - there was still no trace whatsoever of a second person's emotions.

"Driver! Faster, please!", she begged, afraid that her dearest friend, in her moment of greatest vulnerability, had fallen into the clutches of something unnatural.

"There is a speed limit, even this late at night", the driver replied. "I can't afford to lose my permit - even for you, my lady..."

There was no reply, only the creaking of an open carriage door, swinging free as the vehicle rattled over the cobblestones. The rattling completely masked out the sound of frantically flapping wings.

Ashyra barely remembered being helped to the stage-door by Marishanna, and later by Mallim the stage-hand as well. The same went for getting into the carriage that took her home, but she could recall, with acute embarrassment, throwing up out of the carriage window.

Marishanna was a great help, staying with the dancer as she tried to shake off the effects of the Naagian fire-nectar she had unwisely been drinking. The diminutive woman offered a variety of remedies, but the most palatable - and practical, given that Marishanna could not get hold of the necessary herbs from her home-world - was to drink plenty of water and rest.

"You are an excellent dancer", the small swordswoman told Ashyra once she was comfortable, slumped on the couch with her eyes closed. "One could not have told from your performance that such emotional turmoil lay just below the surface."

"You just have to submit to the dance, let it take control", Ashyra explained. "It bypasses all emotions except those that shape the dance."

"Then it is very much like sword-fighting - or magic", Marishanna said, moving closer to the dancer. "One has to trust things other than senses and emotions. Instinct, raw animal drives..."

"Yeah, that's it exactly", the Shaelin girl replied. "Anyone can dance, but to take your audience's breath away takes more than music and choreography. The perfect dancer can enchant her audience with improvisation that comes from the heart, and no music."

Marishanna was now close enough to place her gloved hand on Ashyra's long, dark hair. "You must show me what you mean some time", she said softly.

"I do owe you for helping me get home", Ashyra answered, "and making sure Skylla didn't see me in my...ah, rather delicate condition."

"Your First Dancer is good, but her art is lacking", remarked the Salvandireen adventuress. "To her, dancing is too much of a profession and not enough of a passion." Marishanna, now sitting by Ashyra's head, leaned forward, placed her hands against the girl's temples, and started to gently massage away the knots of tension she found there.

"I get the feeling you've seen a lot of dancers, then", murmured the Shaelin dancer. Marishanna's massage was exactly what she needed, especially when her head was still throbbing in retaliation for her over-indulgence.

"I have travelled much, and seen many things", Marishanna replied. "I have also learned a great deal about all manners of arts and skills..."

"Like massage?"

Marishanna leaned closer still, her hair falling against the Shaelin girl's cheek. "Yes", she whispered. "That...and other means of bringing pleasure."

Ashyra opened one eye. "Tell me straight - are you hitting on me?"

The small woman with the sword sat up, frowning. "I don't understand..."

"Of course you do", said the dancer, wincing and moaning as she tried to sit up, much to the annoyance of the already unsettled contents of her head. "If you're that interested in me, why don't you just say so? It's not like it hasn't happened before."

Marishanna was now the one exhibiting surprise. Her intentions had been discovered, yet the dancing girl did not seem upset, and might actually be receptive to her advances. "I did not want you to feel I was taking advantage of your...as you described it, 'delicate condition'", she admitted. "Neither of us would have enjoyed each other's company whilst you were in that state."

"You sure plan well ahead, don't you?", exclaimed Ashyra, astonished by Marishanna's openness.

"When you're a warrior by profession, it pays not to over-plan one's future", the Salvandireen replied, running her leather-clad fingers through Ashyra's hair. "You tend not to plan for long, leisurely relationships when you could find yourself dead the next day."

"And do you expect to die any time soon?", asked the dancer, sitting up slowly.

"Absolutely not", responded Marishanna, a corner of her mouth arching up into a little smile.

Ashyra considered what she should do next for all of two seconds. "Show me more of that massage, then", she purred, leaning towards Marishanna, and the warrior-woman reached over to start undoing the laces fastening shut the front of the dancer's short forest-green brushed leather dress...

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