This was very probably the most dangerous bar I'd ever sat in.
The Tavern on Cawdor had no reputation beyond the rock, because no one beyond the rock knew of its existence. The rock known as Cawdor was a pirate haven hidden among the asteroid belt of a star system with an anonymous catalogue name. Home to a sorry collection of society's cast-offs, there were no second chances here, for its residents, this would be their last.
Cold blooded, psychotic killers rub shoulders here with brigands, debtors and others who have simply failed at life. Most turn to piracy as their last chance to survive, their harsh reality one of starvation and desperation. And these were the lucky ones to survive this far.
I sat in a wall booth in The Tavern, careful to stay in the shadows. In the booth behind mine the table was piled high with some of the finest jewels I'd ever seen. A few had slid over the sides and lay glistening on the floor as the light caught them. Two rough looking men lounged around the shimmering mass, shirts unbuttoned to the navel, manly hair curling through the gap to match the unruly mop covering much of their head. Draped over them enthusiastically were three girls.
"Oh you men feel so powerful to be around," said the first of the three. "It's so very erotic." Biting her lip, she crawled up his body, pulling on his chest hairs, and climbed into a kneeling position, one thigh either side of his. Their faces almost touching.
"We are very powerful," he agreed, taking the opportunity to slide his hands over the silky dress covering her ass and squeezing. "Just look at this fine booty I've amassed."
"Hey!" she slapped him playfully in revenge for his mischievous hands.
"But it's true," said the second girl, "look at all these men you rule. Look at the treasure you've stolen."
Around us a raucus party raged, it had been going a while already, oblivious to the mountain of jewels behind me. The bar was full of the crew from the two ships owned by the pair, plus the usual hangers on.
"They adore you," said the third, "and rightly so."
It was hard to hear them talk above the noise of merry making, but our booths backed on to each other so I caught the gist. In the gloom their lust distracted them and they paid no attention to me.
"Look at all these jewels you've taken," back to the first. "No one can stop you, my prince." She added a cheeky wink for emphasis
"If we were princes, our mistresses would be showered in these fine baubles you see before you."
The second gasped, "we could be your mistresses."
"Spoil us my lords, and you can have your way with any one of us!" added the third with a giggle.
"Or all of us together."
Lustful loins made for loose tongues, and my job here was to listen and learn. Macbeth, the one struggling with the girl clambering over him, was indeed a pirate lord. Not a prince, but highly ranked in that stict hierarchy most pirates favoured - much to the surprise of outsiders. Ironic considering the lowly status he achieved in the Empire before escaping north. The party I had gatecrashed was a celebration of their latest heist. I was still trying to uncover the details, but it was clearly something big.
His friend, Banquo, was not so well thought of, but a fine general nonetheless. He lacked the southern accent and flamboyance that made his friend so popular with the ladies.
The hollowed rock in which the many gangs had made their home was barren and unremarkable among the millions of similar examples floating around the star. It was nevertheless large and secure.
"Oh look Evie," the third girl called out, "I've found a crystal ball among these pretty jewels."
"Evie's grandmother taught her the secrets of scrying," explained the second excitedly. "You should have her read for you."
They gathered around the table as Evie squished the crystal atop a makeshift hill of jewelry for a stable base. She leant forwards to peer into its depths. The two men were more interested in the way it magnified her breasts, almost hanging out of her loose silk dress.
"What do you see Evie?" asked her second friend.
"Patience, Blaque. Let me concentrate."
Macbeth and Banquo concentrated hard at the view through the crystal ball.
"I see success in your futures - for both of you."
Considering recent events, that was a safe place to start. A successful scryer would take her subjects on a journey. From the present to a fanciful future the subject could believe.
"Wait, what's this I see?" she squinted into the ball and leant over it further for a better view - better for her, or better for them, I wasn't entirely sure. "That looks like, like, some kind of promotion for you." She lifted her head and looked into Macbeth's eyes with a smile. "My lord, how much further up the ranks can you climb?"
"Promotion?" Banquo asked at his side, "but my friend is only 2 steps away from being king of all the pirates. Are you sure?"
Evie took a measured look at the dancing, drinking rabble.
"Are you not already a king?" she asked.
"Not even Thane of this rock, my darling. We both are mere generals, but enjoy the freedom of Cawdor." Macbeth proclaimed.
"Oh no, my lord, not mere generals," she gave her man a wink and another seductive smile. "The crystal never lies. This rock shall be yours. Two promotions await you before this year ends."
Her two friends looked at each other and smiled. They helped themselves to more of the jewels, trying on this or that, and helping the other afix necklace or earrings.
"And as for you," Evie turned her attention to Banquo and then back to the ball."Oh that's confusing, that's rather cloudy."
"What do you mean?" suddenly worry etched across his face. Her teasing breasts no longer his main focus.
"Oh. Oh I see," she continued, "oh that is very strange."
Macbeth was happy with his predictions and grabbed one of the girls for a celebratory kiss and grope. She moaned with pleasure and let his hands feel anywhere they pleased.
"Very strange indeed," continued Evie.
"What can you see, girl?" asked Banquo.
"I see sons, my lord," she looked up startled. "I see sons, and sons of sons, and their sons too. All wearing crowns." She looked at Macbeth. Satisfied he was distracted with her friend, she shielded her mouth from him and whispered conspirationally to Banquo: "Macbeth's future crown!"
"My descendents?" he asked incredulous. "But what about me?"
With a frown she shrugged, "that's all it's telling me."
She moved around the table to straddle him as her lips moved closer to his, "now my lord, what is it you were admiring so fondly in the crystal ball?" It was his turn with Evie.
Some time later Macbeth and Banquo came up for air, and the girls excused themselves to gossip in the bathroom. The men watched them dance away satisfied. Their new mistresses looked resplendent draped in their jewels. When they returned, they'd all retire to Macbeth's private rooms deeper in the rock, away from prying eyes and suspicious wives.
But those three would not return, and nor would the jewels they stole.