Here is what I have so far.


The Queen's Bracelet
Four fingers thick and made of pure aurum, the bracelet pinned by a dagger to the scarred tabletop reflected the firelight like a star. There was not a man in the room who did not covet it, or the woman who had drawn it from her arm. As for the woman, she was unattainable, for she was a Queen and these men who sat around her in the hold of the plunging ship were but ruffians and bondsmen afraid even to meet the cool grey glance of her eyes. The bracelet (or ring as it was properly called, as it had once been worn on the finger of a Frost Giant) had just been gallantly offered as bounty to the first man to sight the coast of El-kiram.

To be sure, it was a ridiculously large reward, but the men were restless, fearful almost to the point of mutiny as the days wore on and the storm that tossed them showed no sign of abating. The ship was groaning as timbers strained against the powerful onslaught of raging black ocean. Queen Jadrun braced herself against the wall and ignored the rivulets of icy water that dripped from overhead. If there was even the merest ghost of fear in her heart, she showed no sign of it. Every movement of hers was careless and yet commanding. When she tossed her head to shake back the streaming mane of her moongold hair, the femininity of the gesture was immediately negated by the shrewd, almost cruel expression of her eyes.

She was beautiful in the way that birds of prey are beautiful, the severity of her heart-shaped face accentuated by the icy pallor of her skin. In her own land, she was called "Snow Spirit" after the predatory cat which haunted the highest mountain-tops. Her narrow eyes and high cheekbones hinted at elven blood, a forbidden mating somewhere in the lost centuries of her family's proud heritage. Her hauteur, even in the midst of the stomach-churning storm, was absolute.

"We're close now," the Queen said, and the expression in her eyes dared any man present to argue the point at his peril. "The Sea of Stars is not so wide, and were it not for this Skarn-cursed gale, you'd all be wallowing in the arms of Kiramese whores by now." She shook her head contemptuously.

"There's a measure of mead for each of you, to fire your insides and thaw your courage. Then I want you aloft and searching for land! I've pelts to sell in El-kiram, and they'll fetch a far better price if they're not half rotten and stinking with bilgewater."

Not waiting to hear a word from her terrified crew, she turned on her heel and strode towards her quarters, leaving the heavy gold bracelet on the table for all to see. If she was conscious of the way the men's eyes followed her, she gave no sign.

"Ye'd have to be a very old man indeed to keep ye'r eyes glued to a bauble of gold when that wench is walking past ye," one of the men chuckled, holding out his silver-chased horn for the ration of mead.


"Wench! Mind yer tongue before you get us all twenty lashes. Even in a storm like this, the Queen would see them meted out in full." The man who spoke was pale and rheumy-eyed, his shock of red hair twisted with greasy braids. "Trust you, Ulfar, to be sniffing after a woman when the whole ship's about to hit bottom. Me, I'm so seasick I can't even get down this measure of mead. All I can think about is choking on sea-water, and going down, down, down to the Lords of Hell."

"Then give your share to me, Kjallak. I can always drink." Ulfar quaffed down the contents of his horn and then raked his grimy hand across his mouth. "And if we're all about to meet the Lords of Hell, then I for one would just as soon go down dreaming of the taste of the Queen's quim as otherwise. It certainly will make my last moments a lot more pleasant." Ulvar licked the last droplets of sweet mead from his whiskers as though he were savouring the Queen herself.

"What I think," said Kjallak, leaning close enough to lower his voice to a whisper, "is that we have blown off course in the dark, and are clear out of the Sea of Stars. The Queen must know it too, for all her brave talk."

"If she does, then she's even more inhuman than I gave her credit for," Ulvar snorted. "This ship will never survive the Sea of Tempests, and she'd know that too."

"Aye. She ought to be frightened out of her wits, but our Queen Jadrun no doubt thinks she can wager with the Storm God Skarn himself."

"If he's got a prick, she might well be able to," sniffed Ulvar.

Kjallak grunted and shoved his untasted horn of mead into Ulvar's hand. "Here, bury your mouth in this and go back to your dreaming. I'm going to aft to heave up my guts."

Lovely Julia!