Mad Ship

Clef crept out from behind Brashen. He slipped up to the ship and shyly set a hand to his planking. He looked up at the still figurehead above him. "Sometimes," he said earnestly, "Y'ave t'be yer own fam'ly. When yer all at's left ov et." Paragon did not speak.

THE CROSSPATCH WAS AS PRIME A CATCH AS ANYTHING HE'D EVER TAKEN.

A rare elation rilled Ke

His satisfaction expressed itself as magnanimity toward the crew and Sorcor in particular. When the red-handed rogue hastened up to report to him, Ke

Sorcor gri

"The ship's officers, Sorcor?"

"Confined below. Their mate took a couple bad knocks to the head before he'd go down, but he'll be fine. There's a pretty tally of other loot, too. The slaves are okay. Some are a bit rattled at the sudden change, but they'll come round."

"Losses?" Ke

Sorcor's grin faded. "Heavier than we expected, sir. These were fighters, and they went down blades in hands. We lost Clifto, Marl and Burry. Kemper's short an eye. A few of the others took minor damage. Opal got his face laid open to his teeth. He's wild with the pain; I sent him back to the Marietta already. He was screaming something awful."

"Opal." Ke

The big pirate gri

"Nevertheless, we'll have it seen to. Where's Etta? Etta! See to Sorcor's arm, there's a good lass. Wintrow, you'll come with me. Let's take a quick look at what we've won today."

It was not a quick look. Ke

Wintrow nodded slowly. Ke

It was the perfect endnote. He should have known it was too good to last. As he and Wintrow emerged onto the deck, three female slaves hurried toward him. Before they could reach him, Etta stepped in front of them, stopping them with her hand on the hilt of her blade. They cowered together as she stared at them. Etta spoke to Ke

"And why is that?" Ke

"The stupid bitches think they'd rather go on being slaves than have to find their own lives in Divvytown. Used to being rich men's pets, they are."

"I'm a poet, not a whore," one woman broke in angrily. "Captain Avery came to Jamaillia City to buy me especially for Sep Kordor. He is a wealthy noble and well known as a fair-handed master. If I go to him, he will provide for me and let me pursue my art. If I go with you, who knows what I must do to support myself? Even if I continue to compose, who will be my audience, save thieves and cut-throats in a backwater scum-town?"

"Maybe you'd rather sing for the serpents?" Etta suggested sweetly. She drew her blade and touched the tip lightly to the woman's belly above her navel. The poet refused to flinch. She gave her head a shake and stared at Ke

"And you two… are you poets also?" Ke

"I weave tapestries," one replied huskily.

"I am a body servant, skilled in massage and the lesser healings," the other said when Ke

"And… let me guess… all of you are for the Sep whoever… the very rich man with many servants?" Ke

"There, you see." Ke

"What shall I do with them?" Etta called after him as he limped away.

He gave a small sigh. "They wish to be slaves. Put them with the others to be ransomed. Sep Kordor bought them once: he may as well buy them again." Inspiration struck Ke

As they strolled toward the rope chair that would return Ke

Wintrow looked around before he answered. "She's a lovely ship. But, no, my heart does not lie in that direction. Given my freedom, I'd still return to my monastery."

"Your freedom? Wintrow! The tattoo on your face means nothing to me. Do you still consider yourself a slave?" Ke

"No. A tattoo does not make me a slave," Wintrow agreed. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. "It is my blood that binds me to Vivacia almost as firmly as chains. The bond between us grows stronger with every passing day. I think that perhaps, I could still leave her and find completeness in a life dedicated to Sa. But that would be a selfish act, one that would leave her forever hollowed by my absence. I do not think I could find serenity, knowing that I had left her."