David Gross: An Opportunity for Profit

"Shar?" It was Rings's voice.

"Here," replied Sharessa, standing. The others followed her into the clearing.

"We heard it, too," said Rings. The faces of the two Mar sailors with him were dark above their striped, sleeveless shirts. "One of the crew was over here."

"Elsger," said one of the sailors. "Elsger!" he called.

"Shh! Don't move." Shar's heart leaped at Belmer's sudden voice. The man was supernaturally quiet until he spoke. His skin was not as dark as that of the Mar, those who descended from the original inhabitants of the region. But with his delicate olive complexion he could blend into the darkness much more naturally than any of the human Sharkers, whose fair skin marked them as children of the Ffolk, the settlers who now ruled the Five Kingdoms.

Belmer bent low and began pacing the edge of the clearing, staring intently at the ground. Surprisingly, Belgin joined him, pausing now and then to peer at a broken stem or torn leaf. The tracking continued in silence for some minutes. Belmer began the circuit a second time, frowning as he passed close to Sharessa. The moon-faced Sharper was less patient.

"I can't see where they go!" shouted Belgin. "The tracks come in, but they don't…"

Sharessa saw three perfectly round spots appear on Belmer's face. The man moved so quickly that he seemed to vanish and reappear two paces back, crouched. His sword materialized at the end of his extended arm, pointing up at the darkening branches. No human sound was uttered, but something like the breeze rustled the leaves above. A breath later, the Sharkers drew their weapons, all eyes following the direction of Belmer's slim blade. Sharessa felt as if she were moving in deep water, so slow were her limbs. Then she saw it.

Bloody remains hung heavily in the boughs above. They would have resembled the offal of a slaughterhouse, save for their incongruous location. Blood pattered down like the first kiss of rain. The Sharkers stared for long seconds.

Brindra pointed to a scrap of blood-sodden cloth dangling from the mess. It was a remnant of the striped shirt of the missing sailor.

"Found him," said Anvil.

"Backs to center," commanded Belmer. His voice was quiet but clear. "Belgin, Ingrar, eyes up. The rest of you, watch the forest." The Sharkers obeyed without hesitation.

"Stay," he said. Then he slipped away from the clearing. Sharessa watched him disappear. She couldn't hear his passage over the gentle susurrus of the wind in the trees. The last of the twilight had died, and the moon had not risen high enough to compensate. She turned her eyes to the task of watching for the approach of… she didn't know what. Whatever had eviscerated the sailor so quickly and silently.

"I don't see anything," whispered Belgin. "It's gone."

"The branches are moving!" said Ingrar. His voice cracked, and he bumped into Belgin as he stepped back.

"It's only the wind," said Anvil. "Keep watching."

They were silent for painful seconds. Sharessa wanted Belmer to return, but he did not. The minutes devoured the seconds. Sharessa heard them screaming in her mind.

"It's gone," said Brindra. "Whatever it was, it's gone." Shar could hear the uncertain hope in the big woman's voice. She knew that Brindra didn't really believe that the thing was gone.

"Let's go back to shore," suggested Ingrar. "We can see anything coming out of the forest from there."

"Yes," agreed Brindra fervently. "Let's get out of these woods."

"Right," agreed Anvil's rumble and Ingrar's tremulous voice. Rings began to nod but stopped after the first electrum jingle of his earand noserings.

"No," said Shar. "Belmer said to stay. We wait."

"To hell with Belm-" snapped Brindra. She cut herself off and grimaced into the black woods. "We need light."

"We'll wait a few more minutes," said Shar in compromise. "If he's not back, then we'll go back to the shore."

Brindra didn't respond, but Anvil grunted an affirmative for himself and the others. They waited, staring into the growing darkness with eyes wide to catch the faintest movement. Echoes of starlight floated down through the leaves, and the faint kiss of the moon glimmered on the high clouds. Sharessa strained to gather every faint of light with her dark eyes, but all she could see were vague gray shapes.

As the long moments passed in a funereal march, even Sharessa began to wonder whether Belmer had abandoned them. Then she tensed to strike at a figure that appeared before her. A split second and she realized it was only a shadow cast by the man who stood just within the moonlight. Her body hard coiled before her mind comprehended what she had seen. Belmer's hand was already on her sword arm. He was inhumanly fast. Sharessa was too relieved to be annoyed.

"Nothing," Belmer said. "I couldn't tell which way it went. It must have fled through the tree-tops."

"I don't think this thing flees from anything," suggested Belgin. Sharessa imagined him stroking his pale chin, though she could no longer make out his face in the darkness.

"Back to shore," said Belmer. This time it was the Sharkers who moved with uncanny speed. "Stay together," he added.

They hurried back toward the forest's edge, but it was too late. Three lanterns bobbed in the darkness.

"Cover those lights!" called Belmer.

"What?" called Turbalt. Sharessa heard Belmer's intake of breath as he prepared to shout, but it was too late. One of the lights suddenly leaped up toward the dark boughs.

Then the screams began.

Sharessa saw the lantern that had risen into the branches whirl so quickly in a circle that her persistence of vision created a floating ring of golden light in the darkness. Then the ring disintegrated into a dangling light again, jerking up and down briefly before falling with a tinkling crash. A weak, guttering fire spread where the lantern shattered.

The entire spectacle lasted no longer than three seconds. The crewmen below the ring had not moved, but the Sharkers had already spread out and stalked forward quickly and quietly.

"Jan! Jan!" cried one of the sailors below. Sharessa supposed that was the name of the missing sailor. She never had learned all their names, despite days at sea with them. Though they were Mar rather than Ffolk, the division between the castes broke down at sea, but even that took more time than the Sharkers had spent with the men of the Morning Bird.

Sharessa listened carefully for Belmer's commands, but her eyes were on the trees above the panicked sailors. All she could hear were their babbling cries for help or light or "Jan!" as they began to flee or draw their swords.

Sharessa saw nothing in the darkness above them, so she looked among the sailors as she came closer to them. One of the remaining lanterns had vanished, while the other danced frantically among the paralyzed or confused men who stood their ground. Turbalt's high-pitched wail made an almost visible wake as the shipless captain once more proved his mettle before his crew. He was halfway back toward the shore.

The dancing lantern suddenly stopped, and Sharessa saw Anvil's huge form looming over the small sailor whose wrist he had grasped. In his other hand, the big man gripped his cutlass. Taking the lantern from the frightened sailor, Anvil raised it high, pointing his sword out beside the light. He scanned the branches above as the sailor stepped away, putting his back against a tree and drawing his own weapon.

Rings and Brindra emerged from the darkness. The dwarf clutched his axe in both hands. His mouth was a thin black line, but his eyes sparkled in the lamplight as they darted from shadow to shadow, seeking whatever had snatched up the sailor. Brindra stayed near Rings's side, covering him with her own keen blade.