Ship of Magic

Deep inside her, she felt the men working. Drills twisted into her timbers, followed by heavy eye-bolts. Lengths of chain were measured across her and then secured to stanchions or heavy staples. Oncoming supplies were mostly water and hard-tack and chains. For the slaves. Slaves. She tried the word on her tongue. Wintrow had believed slavery to be one of the greatest evils that existed in the world, but when he had tried to explain it to her, she could not see much difference between the life of a slave and the life of a sailor. All, it seemed to her, were owned by a master and made to work for as long and hard as that master saw fit. Sailors had very little say about their lives. How could it be much worse to be a slave? She had not been able to grasp it. Perhaps that was why Wintrow had been able to leave her so easily. Because she was stupid. Because she was not, after all, a human being. Tears welled afresh into her eyes, and the slaver Vivacia wept.

Even before they could see the ship itself, Sorcor declared he knew she was a slaver by the tallness of her masts. They were visible through the trees as she came around the island.

“More sail to run faster, to deliver ‘fresh’ cargo,” he observed sarcastically. Then he shot Ke

Ke

“Aye, sir.” Sorcor cleared his throat. It was not clear whom he next addressed. “When we take a slaver, it's usually pretty bloody. Serpents snapping up bodies is not a fit sight for a woman's eyes, and slavers always have a snake or two in their wakes. Perhaps the lady should retire to her cabin until this is over.”

Ke

“I think the lady can discern what is too bloody or cruel for her taste, and retire at that time,” Ke

A small cat smile curved Etta's lips as she brazenly pointed out, “If I enjoy Captain Ke

Sorcor flushed red, scars standing white against his blush. But Etta only shot Ke

Sorcor turned away from them both. “Well, boys, let's run the masquerade,” he shouted to the crew and they tumbled to his command. Ke

He observed her idly. As Sorcor had observed, her three masts were taller than usual, to permit her more sail. A canvas tent for the crew's temporary shelter billowed on the deck; no doubt the sailors working the ship could no longer abide the stench of their densely packed cargo, and so had forsaken the forecastle for airier quarters. The Sicerna, as the name across her stern proclaimed her, had been a slaver for some years. The gilt had flaked from her carvings, and stains down her sides told of human waste sloshed carelessly overboard.

As predicted, a fat yellow-green serpent trolled along in the ship's wake like a contented mascot. If the girth of the serpent was any indication, this slaver had already put a good part of its cargo overboard. Ke

Sorcor was closing up the distance between them now, and the reek of the slave ship carried plainly on the wind. Ke

Almost instantaneously, the mate was at his side. “Cap'n?”

“I believe I shall lead the men this time. Pass the word firmly amongst them. I want at least three of the crew left alive. Officers, preferably. I've a question or two I'd like answered before we feed the serpents.”

“I'll pass the word, sir. But it won't be easy to hold them back.”

“I have great confidence they can manage it,” Ke

“Sir,” Sorcor replied, and went to pass the word to those on deck and to the armed boarders who waited below.

She waited until Sorcor was out of earshot before Etta asked in a low voice, “Why do you choose to risk yourself?”

“Risk?” He considered it a moment, then asked her, “Why do you ask? Do you fear what would happen to yourself if I were killed?”

The lines of her mouth went flat. She turned aside from him. “Yes,” she said softly. “But not in the way you think I do.”

They had crept up to hailing distance, when the captain of the Sicerna called to them across the water.

“Stand off!” he roared. “We know who you be, no matter what flag you show.”

Ke

“Hands on deck!” Sorcor bellowed cheerfully. “And heave the ropes up.”

The decks of the Marietta resounded to the pounding of eager feet. Pirates crowded the railing, grappling lines and bows at the ready. Ke

For an answer, the man barked some command of his own. Six stalwart sailors abruptly seized up an anchor lying on the deck. Screams sounded as they hove it over the side. And in its wake, as swiftly as if they had eagerly leaped, went a handful of men who had been manacled to it. They vanished instantly, their screams bubbled into silence. Sorcor stared in shock. Even Ke