Steel Sirens: A High Fantasy Harem Adventure by Whittaker Maxx

Author:Whittaker, Maxx [Whittaker, Maxx]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Saving Throw Ink
Published: 2019-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

13

“Here, put these on.” Oranna bangs through the tavern’s rear door and shoves a blue and yellow pile of clothes against my chest. Then she sits beside Emeree, who kicks her legs against a squat crate, her inky armor clanking the wood.

I look around, bewildered. “Here?” The alley is deserted, save the three of us, and Oranna’s assured us that the resistance will keep it so.

“Absolutely,” Oranna says. I swallow. Emeree’s hand goes to her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Uh, maybe I’ll just dart up to our room…”

“Bad idea,” Oranna grins, clearly enjoying herself. “Too risky, you might be seen.”

I look to Emeree for help, but she just shrugs, almost red with stifled mirth. Oranna stares at me frankly, not even turning away.

“Oh, get on with it, son. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Recently,” Emeree adds.

Fine. Screw it. If they want a show...I strip off my tunic, then my leathers, shivering in the morning chill. My smallclothes are not a barrier against the cold.

“You’ll have to change those, too,” she says, nodding at my homespuns. “Anyone catches a glimpse of those ratty things will know you’re not quality, lad.”

Perfect. I angle away and strip.

Oranna clicks. “Not a bad bit of meat,” she says, elbowing Emeree.

“I’m rather fond of it,” she winks.

“Oh, we know. The whole inn knows.”

Emeree has the grace to blush for once. So do I.

They laugh merrily while I fight into clothes belonging to a somewhat...thinner nobleman.

“Nonsense,” Oranna snaps at my grunting. “He was nearly as fit as you.”

She’s having me on. “Nearly? Where is he? I want to ask him how he keeps so lean.”

“Hounds and whores and a stony case of the male pox. And you can’t ask him about it. He switched horses at sunrise. Horses and trunks.”

“He might guess where it was stolen.”

Oranna reaches out and pats my cheek. “It’s worth it. Real change requires risk.”

“Hear hear!” Emeree adds.

She hops down from her crate, sidling up to me. She pecks me on the cheek. “I’ll be ready if you need me.”

“I know.” I fit my hand in hers.

She mists away into her blade. I sling the scabbard onto my back and put on the greatcoat Oranna’s pinched for me.

“Pella?” I ask.

Oranna nods, fiddling with her pipe. “Aye. She’s in the lower rooms. Cleaned up real pretty. And easier to size than your oaf body.”

“Flirting now that Emeree’s gone?”

Oranna chuckles around the pipe stem clenched in her teeth. “You wish.”

No mayor or portreeve would fool anyone without at least one guard. Mine lumbers into the dooryard, another procurement from the resistance. My eyes widen and I take an involuntary step back when I realize that it’s one of Chomarr’s thugs that we beat down a few nights before.

He towers over me, a mountain of a man with short-cropped, black hair, a missing eye, and arms like tree trunks. An axe and spear jut from above his shoulders, and both are well worn but still dangerous. “Valk,” he says, extending a hand like a side of beef.

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