Mad Ship

Vivacia leaned forward, her face avid. Her eagerness was so great, she almost seemed to pull the ship after her. "Look at them, look at them flee!" Her crooked fingers and outstretched arms reached after the ship.

As her crew sprang to set her sails for the pursuit, the wind put its power to their backs.

"It's a slaver. Ke

She spared him one glance back. "And if I do not, how many slaves will die each day of their voyage?" She fixed her gaze on her prey once more and her voice hardened. "Not all humans are worthy of life, Wintrow. At least our way preserves the most lives. If she sails on as she is, it will be a miracle if any on board survive the journey."

Wintrow scarcely heard her. He was watching, incredulously, as the slaver began to pull away from the Marietta. The distance between the two vessels widened. The slaver was not blind to opportunity, nor to the new threat the Vivacia represented. The over-laden ship made for the center of the cha

Ke

There would be no killing today. Wintrow felt a moment of relief. Then Vivacia screamed. The cry was one of thwarted lust. In that instant, the ship picked up speed. Every plank and sail suddenly aligned to their best use. The whoops and calls of the crew grew fierce as the gap between Vivacia and the slaver began to close. Her intentness caught Wintrow's awareness like a butterfly snared in a spider's web. "My lady!" Ke

Vivacia ignored them all. This was her pursuit, her kill. The men on board her she heeded not at all. Dimly Wintrow was aware of his own body. His hands were set like claws to the bow rail and the wind of their passage lashed his hair. Vivacia suffocated his small self in her greater energy. As in a dream, he saw the slaver grow larger before him. The stench of her grew stronger, and the scurrying men on her decks wore fear-stricken faces. He heard the voices of the pirates raised in excitement as the grapples were thrown and the first volleys of arrows loosed. The screams of those the arrows found and the muffled roar of the terrified slaves belowdecks were like the cries of distant shorebirds. He was far more keenly aware of the Marietta suddenly gaining on them. She threatened to steal the kill from Vivacia. The ship would not tolerate it.

Vivacia literally leaned over and grasped at the other ship as the grappling lines were pulled tight. Her clawing fingers reached nothing but the avidity on her face terrified the crew of the slaver. "At them! At them!" she cried out mindlessly, heedless of the orders Ke

"She has done it! Our beauty has done it! Ah, Vivacia, never did I suspect you had such speed and skill!" Ke

A wave of purest adoration for Ke

"We will hunt well together, we two," Vivacia observed.

"That we shall," Ke

Wintrow felt adrift. He was linked to them but they ignored him. He was irrelevant to what they had just discovered in one another. He could sense them co

"Wintrow. Wintrow!" In a sort of daze, the boy heard his name and turned to it. Ke

He found himself following Ke

Sorcor came bounding across the deck toward them. Evidently, the Marietta had caught up swiftly, once she put her mind to it. She had grappled the slaver from the other side. The embattled crew never had a chance. The drawn blade in Sorcor's hand dripped while his tattooed face shone with savage satisfaction. "Just about done here, sir!" he greeted Ke

"Do we have room for them all, Sorcor?"

The stocky pirate waggled his eyebrows in a shrug. "Most likely. It'll crowd both our ships, but when we rejoin the Crosspatch, we can transfer a lot of them to her. I'd say that about fills us up, though."

"Excellent." Ke

"I'd say so," Sorcor gri

A blood-smudged pirate hastened up to the group. "Begging your pardons, sirs, but the cook wants to yield. He's holed up in the galley."

"Kill him," Ke

"Begging your pardon, sir, but he says he knows something that would make it worth our while to let him live. Says he knows where there's treasure."

Ke

"If he knew where there was treasure, why wasn't he going after it instead of hauling slaves in this tub?" Etta demanded sarcastically.

"Don't know, ma'am," the sailor apologized. "He's an old 'un. Missing an eye and a hand. Claims he used to sail with Igrot the Bold. That's what got us thinking. Everyone knows that Igrot knocked off the Satrap's treasure barge and that lot was never seen again. Maybe he does know…"