Silk and Gen sat in the park like two old ladies with nary a worry nor place to be. They watched mothers gossiping together in small clutches while children ran and shrieked, playing as children should with no cares except who had the ball or was next on the rope swing someone had tied to a tree.
“Whoever tied that did a good job,” Gen said. “I’ll wager it was a sailor.”
Silk peered at it. “Probably. I always appreciated a man who was good with his hands. Physical.”
Gen nodded. "How is Jack?’
“Restless. He’s anxious to be back at sea.”
“Maiden’s Revenge is nearly ready. We’ll bring in a shipment of legitimate goods to Stormwind and then start slipping in contraband as we can. I want the banker’s line’s ruined. All of his partners.”
Silk picked up a ball that had rolled over near them and tossed it back to the flock of children. “Come play with us,” one bold boy said with a bawdy wink.
Her answering laugh was infectious and the rest of the children whooped. “Maybe in a bit. Gen and some of you on one side and poor blind me and some others on another.”
“Sure, lady. We’ll be waiting.”
Gen fished a couple of apples out of her bag and tossed one to Silk, then peeled hers with a razor-sharp knife, in one continual peel as was her habit. “It’s such a beautiful day. I hope it’s pretty in Dalaran. B should enjoy his day, being his last and all.”
There was a crunch as Silk took a bite from the apple. “So tonight?”
“Yes, he gives his help, except his bodyguards, off one day a week and it’s always the same day. We’ll go in as sword dancers. Paid entertainment. I had some new outfits made. Bring your lute. Swords and cloak.”
“Something pretty, I hope. I like pretty.”
“Very. She did a good job. Not much to them, but they’re pretty. Sexy. They should get us in the door and Banker B, will be enthralled right till the end.” She sliced the apple up and chewed on one piece thoughtfully. This had been a long time coming. She almost hated to end the hunt. There was something primitively exciting about hunting a man who didn’t want to be found. The Enforcer would be the big thrill and the last on the list. The other men, she would ruin financially with raids on their ships or stock being shipped. She’d put them under within a year. Life was damned good. She had a crew she liked. A ship she loved. And a purpose in life. Guarding Bishop LeMaye had been good, but he objected to her strong tactics and decided to find a new captain of the guard. Hopefully, it wouldn’t cost his life. She liked LeMaye and admired him.
“Finish your apple,” she said. “Let’s go play ball with the kids and then we need to get ready for tonight.”
When the game was over, she asked the mothers if the kids could have a lemon drop and left a bag of candy for them to divide up.
Silk pursed her lips disapprovingly when they walked away. “Candy isn’t really good for kids.”
“Let them be kids. They’ll grow up and be responsible soon enough.”
The Banker Baron’s estate was lovely, huge, gated and well protected. She had sat many a day and night scouting it out. The gardens were immaculate. She shinnied up a tree nearby and sat on the rooftop of the neighbor’s house one night when he had a party. The pools and fountains were lit with blue luminescent globes that made the fish glow in the dark as they swam. Trees were strung with lights. Foods of every sort served along with exotic drinks and wines. On one table a nearly nude elf lay with food artfully arranged on her lithe body. People helped themselves to the delicacies and then dipped them into the sauces arranged around her. At the end of the night she was raffled off to the high bidder, this was a charity event after all. She wondered what her services would be listed as. Maid, no doubt.
Oh, the things that money can buy. Banker was used to the good life.
When all this was done, she was going to spend some time in that garden and drink a glass of wine, but first business. The outfits were little more than heavily jeweled bras and jeweled belts with skirts made of multiple gossamer veils or scarves. Silk’s was royal blue with golden coins draping from the belt and the bra band. Gen’s was deep peacock blue with the same trim. Over them they word simple black robes and hooded cloaks. Sword belts criss-crossed their hips. The guards would object to the swords, of course. They’d have to demonstrate for them they were dancers and show them the letter from Beacham’s friend Marcus Michell. It had been meticulously forged to mimic his hand. Michell was out of town on business, so there was no way to confirm he had sent them.
“Bottoms up.” Gen said and handed Silk a vial. They hoped to drug the guards, but if they were smart, they’d insist the women drink some of the wine also. The anti-dote would counteract the mild poison that should knock the guards out for several hours.
Gen pulled the handle to the bell on the gate and a guard, the one call Rafe answered quickly, opening a small door. “Yeah, who you want?”
“Mr. Michell sent us to entertain Mr. Beacham. We’re a special thank you present.” She held the envelope up.
He held his hand out to take it. A few minutes later another guard peered out. That would be Jal. Silk waved at him, but he only grunted in return. Rafe returned and unlocked the gate. “Mr. Beacham said to bring you in, but we have to search you.”
“Of course,” Gen replied and held her arms out.
“The fel? Why do you need swords?”
“We’re sword dancers.” She unbuckled the sword belts carefully and removed the cloak and robe. “Do I look like a soldier to you?” she said, twirling around to give them full view of her legs and most of her rear.
“You’ve got a few scars,” Jal said dubiously.
She shrugged. “That happens when you’re learning to sword dance. That’s why you don’t see many of us. It’s dangerous to do, but beautiful to watch. Usually only royalty or the very rich can afford us. You’re in for a treat tonight, gentlemen. It will be a night you’ll never forget.”
He humphed. “Follow me.”
Beacham was sitting in his private garden in shorts and a silk robe. He lit up when he saw them. “Oh, let’s take a look at you two lovelies.” He pulled Silk’s cloak and robe off, his breath sucking in when he saw her in costume. “I see he enjoyed that elf he won very much. I’m sure I’m going to enjoy you two even more. Light bless him anyway. Mmm. Mmm. Very nice.”
“He also sent two bottles of wine he thought you’d enjoy,” Gen said as he guided us to a large room with plush couches and various odd covered pieces of furniture.
With a wave of his hand he motioned to the doors. “Lock them, Jal, and put the key away for safety. I’d like our tasties to stay until I’m ready for them to leave.”
Silk and Gen looked at each other, eyes wide, as she was sure he expected them to do. “We’re just dancers, sir,” Gen said.
“I’m sure you got paid handsomely. I’ll pay you more, much more if you please me.” He nodded toward Jal who was tucking the key into a placket inside his belt. “And my men, of course. You may start by pouring the wine, though. I do enjoy good wine.”
Gen poured three glasses of wine. Jal pulled down two more glasses from the rack. “Pour two more. You ladies will join us. You’ll drink first as a matter of fact.”
Silk smiled and licked her lips, shifting her hips as if excited at the prospect of drinking a rich man’s wine. They drank their wine, savoring it.
“All of it,” Jal barked.
Gen drained her glass and poured two more for them.
“Enough!” Beacham barked. “They don’t need to drink all that wine, It’s damned expensive. Give them something else.”
Jal pulled another bottle of wine from the rack and uncorked it. “I think you ladies will like this.”
“It’s a good vintage,” she said, looking the bottle. “I’m sure we will.”
The men settled into chairs and couches and waited, sipping wine and visiting quietly, planning. Silk got out her lute and began to play and sing. Beacham smiled widely, enjoying her thoroughly as she swayed to the music. Gen withdrew her swords and danced in the middle of the room, her now bare feet making small delicate steps as her body writhed to the music. A sword swooped down near her hip and lifted some of the veils free, so they fluttered loose and bared her leg. Beacham groaned softly. The other sword bared her other leg up to her hip. She leaned backwards, shimmying, going lower until she was nearly lying flat on the floor the swords wavering above her and then gradually raised up, eyes locked on Beacham, smiling seductively.
He poured them more wine. The song continued. Then a glass shattered.
“What have you done, you b!tches?” Rafe shouted clearing the table of the wine glasses. They backed away from him. Silk dropped her lute and drew her swords.
“This isn’t your affair,” Gen said softly. “You can walk away from this.”
“Like hell,” he growled. “It’s exactly what we get paid for. Don’t like to pork a woman all cut up and bloody, but in your case, I’ll enjoy it. Drop those swords.”
“Don’t think that would be wise,” Gen replied.
Jal had drawn his sword and moved around beside them.
“Don’t cut them up!” Beacham screamed. "I want them unblemished. “I’ll do the cutting.”
Beacham paid good money for good fighters. The men knew what they were doing. Gen was beginning to wonder if they hadn’t bitten off more than they could chew this time. It was ever a truth; men were men and women were women. Regardless of training, men had a distinct advantage over women in a long fight. They had to take them out quickly. The drugs had taken their edge off, but they were still formidable. Finally, Rafe’s temper got to him and he charged at her like a mad bull, head down. She stepped aside and brought her sword up, nearly severing his neck. He dropped his sword and then his head.
“Slice them up!” Beacham screamed. “Kill them! Kill them!”
Jal turned toward him when he did, and Silk drove her sword through his heart.
Beacham was at the door now, trying to break out. The doors rattled on their hinges, but they were solid and heavy, made for keeping people in. Silk rifled through Jal’s belt and pulled out the key. Gen walked around the room and pulled the covers off the “furniture”.
“Huh.” All manner of torture devices. She turned to stare at Beacham. “You work for the Scarlets? This is what you had planned for us?”
“No, no,” he squeaked. “Just wanted to, uh, enjoy you. You know, pleasure.”
“Yes, well, your idea of pleasure and ours may be different. So, tell you what, Mr. Beacham. Help us hoist your friends up on some of this equipment. I’m sure they’ve enjoyed using it before. They can be found on it.”
He cried, but helped them drag the two bodies to the equipment and strap them in.
“Now, do you have a wine cellar? I’m thirsty,” Gen said.
“Yes, yes. I have an excellent cellar.”
Gen gathered Rafe’s head in a bag she found behind the bar and waited with Beacham while Silk unlocked the door.
“I have money, you know,” he said, almost in tears. “And jewels. I’m very rich.”
“Oh, I know how rich you are and how you got rich. You got run out of Stormwind some years ago didn’t you?”
He huffed. “Trumped up charges. That damned paladin D’Amond. Her and the Presidium brought charges against me, but I would have gotten out of them.”
“But you didn’t, did you? Had to leave town.”
“Presidium got sick,” he giggled. “But they had evidence they brought anyway. That b!tch got it anyway.” He was giggling maniacally now. As if realizing where he was, he stopped. “My safe, you can have everything in it. Just let me go.”
"Tell you what. Give me the combination to your safe and we’ll have some cookies and wine and call it a night. How does that sound?’
“Yes! I like cookies.”
“Good. I brought some,” Gen said.
He spit out the combination to his safe and its location faster than thought. “Go check it,” Gen said. Silk met them in the cellar and verified the safe was open.
“Now, what’s your best cask of wine?”
“Oh, probably the Mont Pell.” He pointed to a cask in the corner. “It just arrived today as a matter of fact.”
“Only the best, Mr. Beacham, for this party.”
He laughed giddily. “Indeed. See things aren’t so bad, are they?”
“Not at all. I’m enjoying myself quite a lot. Are you enjoying yourself, Silk?”
“I am.”
Gen found some tools and pried the end off the cask.
“Wait, that’s not how you do it. You’ll ruin it.”
“It’ll be fine Mr. Beacham.” Gen patted his cheek. “Turn around.”
He did so, suddenly not so happy. Silk was dipping up bottles of wine while Gen pulled more veils loose from her belt. Gen tied his hands behind him and patted him. “You probably like games of tying people up, don’t you?”
“No, not really,” he said his voice breaking.
"Oh, I bet your do. Let’s have some cookies. But first, let’s get a chair over here and I want you to step into this cask.
“What? No, I’m not going to do that.”
Gen held up the bag with Rafe’s head. “Would you like to have a discussion with Rafe about how this feels? I can make it happen.”
He was blubbering like a baby when he clambered up on the chair and stepped into the cask with a splash. “You’ve ruined my best wine!”
“Oh, just don’t tell your guests, they’ll never know you’re p!ssing in it right now. Now, let’s have some cookies.” She started feeding him cookies. He tried to stop eating, but she kept cramming them in his mouth and then tied another veil over his mouth, gagging him.
“Just so you know, Gentyl D’Amond was my cousin, you low life cretin. That poison grain you sent has a curious aftereffect. You hemorrhage. Drown in your own blood. It’s a terrible, racking, painful way to die. Now, sit down in that cask. Do it or I will drive this mallet through your damned teeth.”
He sank slowly into the cask, crying, mumbling, begging no doubt for mercy. There was none to be found. Gen reached for the cask lid and tapped it into place. The cask wobbled as he struggled inside. They hopped on top and sat there, sipping wine until all got still.
“Think that’s been long enough?” Gen asked.
“Doubt he can hold his breath five minutes and it’s been at least that long.”
They slid off and Gen picked up a pencil used to mark shipments and wrote “look inside” on top of the cask then wiped the pencil off and the tools she’d handled. She placed Rafe’s head on the cask, so it was looking toward the doorway. “Get the wine and let’s get something to eat. I’m hungry.”
They headed back upstairs to the kitchen and found things to make sandwiches and some fresh fruit and cheese then went out to the garden. “I like it out here,” Gen said. “It must be nice to be rich.”
“There’s enough money and jewels in the safe to make you comfortable.”
“Eh, that’s a cushion to take care of my people. I’ll put it away in case something happens to me. If it does, divide it up between the people. You have a special portion I’ve set aside. Get far away. For now, let’s enjoy Banker Beacham’s wine. It really is a shame we wasted it on him. It’s very good.”