The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride

But Myakk was well worth looking at himself. His top half looked normal—if slightly piratical since he had a patch over one eye and wore a long black beard and mustache. He was sitting up in the pink bathtub, but the bottom half of him was submerged in some pale blue liquid which sloshed as the bathtub moved, and made it hard to see his legs.

Or were they legs? Lan’ara craned her neck, trying to get a better look. She thought she caught a glimpse of scales under the surface of the liquid—maybe even a hint of a tail with a broad fin at its tip.

Need clearly saw her interest.

“Myakk is half-Bertswishan,” he murmured to her as they followed the pink bathtub through the marketplace. “They are an ocean-dwelling people who live off the coastal shelf of the largest continent here on Felicitus Twelve.”

“Oh…” Lan’ara looked at the strange man with renewed interest. “Does that mean he’s, er, half-fish?”

“Only the handsome half, my dear,” Myakk remarked, turning in his bathtub to grin up at her.

Lan’ara was mortified that he’d caught her asking about him. Her cheeks went hot at once and she began to protest.

“Oh, I never meant to—”

“Don’t worry, my dear! I’m not offended,” Myakk assured her. “It was, after all, such curiosity which allowed my father to seduce my mother in the first place. And now, here I am—the better half of both worlds!” He laughed heartily at his own joke. “Ah—here we are.”

The walking bathtub he had called “Velda” had led them to a sheltered corner of the marketplace—an empty stall under a thick canopy which kept the dazzling light of the twin suns at bay.

Lan’ara was glad to step into the shade—the heat and brilliance of the Felicitus Twelve day was rather overwhelming. There was a thick carpet on the ground too, which was much nicer than walking on the dusty main road.

Myakk directed his bathtub creature over to a large mound of pillows which were piled in one corner of the stall and began digging through them until he seemed to find one he liked.

“Now then,” he said, directing the bathtub to turn around on its stubby legs and face Need and Lan’ara.

It did have a face, Lan’ara saw with great interest as she finally got a good long look at “Velda.”

The pink bathtub creature had big blue eyes with surprisingly long lashes and a cupid’s bow mouth the same shiny pink as its body. There was even a dainty, tip-tilted nose that sniffed the air appreciatively when Need swung the bag full of fruit down off his shoulder.

It was a pretty face, Lan’ara decided, but not an intelligent one. You could tell just by looking into the large, vacant blue eyes that the bathtub creature wasn’t sentient. It was alert and lively, however, its blue eyes scanning nervously from side to side and its little nose wrinkling as though it was taking in all the scents.

“Admiring my Velda, are you?” Myakk asked, clearly noticing how Lan’ara was staring at his ride. “She’s bred to carry a half-breed like me for clicks and clicks without stopping once. Unfortunately, she’s not very smart,” he added. “Though she is usually dependable.”

“She’s very pretty,” Lan’ara said politely. “She reminds me of an equine I used to ride at my old school.”

“Ah yes—some have said Velda’s species are like equines. We just call them ‘tubb-ohs.’ Now then, let’s get down to business.”

Apparently tired of talking about his ride, Myakk carefully cut open the pillow he had selected with a long, wicked-looking knife. He then extracted a tiny packet of pale blue powder.

“The finest and purest powdered yarrow root that money can buy,” he told Need. “This is only a sample, of course. But if you approve it, we can move this transaction to my ship, where I have the rest.”

“Sounds good,” Need said, nodded. “Let’s see it.”

“Of course. Er…” Myakk paused delicately. “And will the young lady be trying some to test the product’s, ah, efficacy?”

“What? No!” Need exclaimed angrily. He drew Lan’ara behind him protectively.

“Excuse me!” Myakk held up both hands in a “don’t shoot” gesture. “But since you said she is not your mate, I just assumed you had brought her along as a test subject.”

“I wouldn’t do that—wouldn’t use anyone as a test subject for your fucking poison,” Need growled angrily. “Least of all Lan’ara!”

“Now, now—yarrow root is hardly a poison!” the other man protested. “Why, it gives ninety-nine percent of the lucky souls who snort it the most beautiful, heavenly visions they’ve ever seen in their life! Everything looks lovely and perfect and happy once you’ve got a snoot-full of yarrow root.”

“Unless you’re one of the unlucky sons-of-bitches who goes on a bad trip,” Need pointed out. “Visions of all Seven Hells and demons tormenting you for a solid solar year—no thank you, it’s not worth the fucking risk!”