Rosh shrugged, then leered as a thought entered his mind. He turned to Dexter but was silenced by the glare the man sent him.
“Don’t speak the words you’re thinking,” he threatened. “There’s not a one of us that don’t deserve to be treated right and fair. Think on that and if you’re not agreeing, keep it to yourself.”
“Captain?”
Dexter turned away from Rosh to see Bekka standing there. He smiled to push aside the confrontation and said, “What’s your plan, Bekka? You staying here or heading out?”
“Sir, I’d like to go with you and Rosh if you don’t mind.” She smiled and glanced up at Rosh, idly rubbing her hand against her freshly shaved scalp above her ear.
“You’re welcome to come,” Dexter said. “But what’s your course?”
Bekka grinned, not surprised that Dexter had sniffed something fishy about her motives. “Sir, if you’re for bringing on new crew, I’d like to recommend at least one of them know something about healing. My sorcery doesn’t do me much good for anything more than a bruise or a scrape.”
Dexter nodded. “Every time I think that hiring women for crew is bad luck, one of you goes and does something to prove me wrong,” he said with a smile.
The captain turned back to Rosh and chuckled while saying, “What do you think, should we hire naught but women from here on?”
Rosh’s eyes widened at the suggestion. A sly grin started to creep across his face until he thought of Jenna and Jodyne. His grin faded quickly.
“Cap, we’d never have any peace,” he said seriously.
Dexter laughed. “Aye, you’ve the right of that! There’d be a mutiny before we left port, I reckon!”
Rosh’s laughter joined his, and Bekka even smiled in accordance. While a woman herself, she agreed with the men that too many women on a ship the size of the Voidhawk for any duration other than a few hours would probably be a bad idea.
Dexter turned back to Keshira and Bailynn, the latter of which had wandered to the far side of the deck and was peering across the dry harbor. “Ladies, remember that nobody comes aboard that isn’t crew. Even if they say they’re new crew, unless one of us vouches for them.”
“Keep an eye out, but relax some too, we’ve been out a while and we could all use some downtime,” he added.
“You two, with me,” he said, gesturing with a hand towards each of his accomplices.
They fell in behind him as he headed off into the city.
* * * *
“Do you know anything about magic, or are you just the Captain’s way of keeping track of me?” Xander asked as they moved through the mid-afternoon crowds.
Jenna favored him with a look that was far from complimentary. “If you never head back, the Captain might be annoyed,” she told him. “But deckhands can be found anywhere. You’ve yet to impress anyone with your wizarding, so do you really think he’d leash me to you because he was afraid you might not come back?”
Xander chewed it over for a moment, realizing that what she said was true. The Captain had no real investment in him. Still, the man did seem single minded and particularly obstinate about certain things.
“Perhaps, but I’d not be surprised if he did it out of spite.”
Jenna grinned, revealing nothing other than that she was amused by the magician’s words. Xander harrumphed and continued on through the dusty streets.
“I’ve been around plenty of magic,” Jenna said a moment later. “I spent a good bit of time among elves, they have many wizards there.”
Xander glanced at her, interested in spite of himself. “Elven magic is often strange and wondrous,” he offered, hoping to get her to continue.
Jenna snorted. “If you say so. Just as often it’s devastatingly cruel and inhuman.”
The wizard could not hide his shock. “What? I mean… you’re an elf! How could you… I don’t understand.”
“I thought wizards were supposed to be intelligent?” Jenna asked, needling him a little. He scowled in response to her.
“I am an elf, and I’m proud of who I am,” Jenna said, having taken to heart what Dexter had once said to her. “I’m not proud of many of my kin, however. They shame me, much as I have shamed them.”
Jenna smiled sadly before continuing. “You joined us after. We ran into some elves that recognized me and knew about a price on my head. They came after me, and that’s how Bailynn joined us.”
“How she… what? She looks part elvan herself, and I know there is a strong magic about her.” Xander was excited to learn more of his shipmates though he tried to temper it well.
“She was a weapon the elves used to track me down and kill me,” Jenna explained too casually. “We captured and imprisoned her, then when we escaped, the elves came after us.”
“We defeated them and took whatever magical device controlled Bailynn. We freed her from slavery to the elves, and she stays with us because she has nowhere else to go.” The first mate intentionally left out several important parts. She, like Dexter, had no great trust for Xander, but she was willing to give him a chance.
Xander digested the information carefully, then turned to look at her. “So who are you to have a price on your head?”
Jenna grinned wickedly. “Hoping to turn me in and collect the reward? Maybe restart your life where you left off? It’s a sizeable reward, rest assured.”
Xander looked at her without giving anything away, reading her carefully. He knew he was being tested. “Why tell me of it and try to tempt me? It is only you and I now.”
“I’ve been around mages before,” Jenna explained, her smile never leaving her face. “I’m next to you and, from what I’ve seen, I’m faster. By the time you started a spell I’d have a dagger in your side. Rare is the wizard that can finish a spell with that sort of distraction.”
Xander nodded. “Aye, but still, if I am as you suggest, then I’ll be looking for a chance to lose you or gain enough distance to work magic on you. Seems foolish to give away information so important so readily.”
Jenna shrugged. “You may be right,” she admitted. “Or maybe I think you’re worth giving the benefit of the doubt to.”
“A wise man once convinced me that all people deserved to be treated fairly and with respect… at least until they prove otherwise. He proved he meant it by showing me firsthand.”
Xander sighed. “The character of a paladin, our Captain,” he said sarcastically.
Jenna grinned. “Oh, he’s infuriating at times, but he’s still our Captain.”
“And so long as I draw breath,” she added, her smile fading to a look of deadly seriousness, “I’ll shed every last drop of blood I have and few that belong to others before I’d have it any other way.”
Xander nodded. “Yes, he does seem to inspire loyalty. Rather aggravating, really.”
Jenna chuckled. “It can be,” she agreed. “Come, I see some sort of a shop up ahead that looks fanciful. Perhaps you might find some things there?”
Xander glanced at where she pointed and he saw at once some of the runes and symbols in the scrollwork above and around the door. He nodded, nearly forgetting their conversation as he increased his pace towards the shop.
* * * *
“So where do we go?” Rosh asked Dexter and Bekka as they stood on the side of a busy intersection.
People moved up and down the sides of the street, only a few feet separating them. Often a wagon would pass down the middle, or occasionally pass one another. Other times it would be a covered coach, a rider or two. Once they even paused to watch a covered litter born by slaves. The slaves, not surprisingly, were naked.
Dexter looked around, then shrugged and pointed to a cross street up ahead. “That way.”
“How do you know that?” Bekka asked, following him as he led the way.
Dexter shrugged and said, “standing there was getting us no closer.”
Bekka nodded, understanding the wisdom behind it. Rosh looked back and forward, then shook his he
ad and muttered something under his breath.
As fate would have it, the road Dexter had chosen led to a hall with criers out in front of it. The wares they were barking were those of the flesh, rather than more mundane possessions. Dexter came up short and stared at the stone steps that led up into the wide double doors of the building.
“I thought you didn’t want nothing to do with slaving?” Rosh asked him, confused.
“Aye,” Dexter said, his mind grinding through some thoughts.
“You ain’t thinking about burning the place down?” He asked in a worried whisper.
Dexter turned, surprised. “Not a half bad idea,” he admitted. Then he shrugged and lightly clapped Rosh on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s see if there’s any business to be done.”
Rosh stood there staring at his Captain for a long moment while the man headed into the hall. Bekka turned to look back at him and gesture for him to hurry up, afraid he might get lost. Rosh shook his head and followed, jogging to catch up.
The inside of the hall was hot and stank of bodies, both natural and perfumed. Dexter had to pay a fee of a few coppers to enter the bidding proper, where the would-be slave owners studied the prospects as they were displayed and were able to bid upon them. Once inside they looked around the room, which had benches for seats. A barred door stood off to one side, with a guard beside it discouraging anyone from using it.
There were perhaps seven others bidding on the slaves being offered for auction, or at least seven people present. All but one of them were male, with the woman being some elderly and clearly of high rank and station, based upon the condescension with which she treated those around her. Dexter smiled as he looked upon her, a plot already thickening in his mind.
“Cap, we’re a hike from the ship,” Rosh warned in a hushed voice. “Don’t be starting nothing.”
“Why is it people always think I’m trying to start something?” Dexter asked, turning to face Bekka and Rosh. Rosh scowled but did not rise to the bait. Bekka giggled a little.
They sat through several auctions, watching as one after another slave was brought up to be sold off. None interested Dexter, though secretly he hoped desperately to be able to free them all. The best he could do was drive up the prices a little, especially when the noble woman was bidding. She seemed increasingly annoyed, but refused to give him the respect a glance would afford him.
A small man came out, flanked by an overly large guard, after several minutes had passed and Dexter had not yet acquired any merchandise.
“Good sir, it has come to our beliefs that you are not bargaining in good faith,” the man said quietly, so not to interfere with the auction.
“I’m bidding,” Dexter protested.
“Yes, but never seriously,” he continued. “If you have not the funds, perhaps you would rather visit the cells to see some of those not deemed worthy enough to go on the block?”
Dexter’s patronizing smile faded. “What happens to them, if they don’t go on the block?”
The man shrugged. “Most are a lost cause, I admit,” he said honestly. “Criminals without the strength to battle in the arenas. Some are sick, others old and feeble. Mostly they rot in their cells until one death comes.”
Dexter rose slowly. Biting back his rage he said, “Yes, show me to them.”
Happy to get the difficult man away from angering the other bidders, he gladly led Dexter and his crew through the barred door and down a flight of stairs. Once down there they passed through another guard room that had three doors opening from different walls, each leading to a bank of cells.
“You want this bank of cells here,” the smarmy man told them, indicating a door that one of the guards in the lower room moved to open.
The smell that emerged when the door opened made Rosh scowl and cover his nose. Bekka’s eyes widened and her face paled. Dexter coughed and turned to look at the man.
“Their fates are sealed, why waste the money?” he asked in a tone that indicated he truly did not understand the need for such a thing.
“You’ll know why when a plague festers down here,” Rosh growled.
Dexter said nothing. His jaw clenched and his fists balled. He nodded with his head towards the opening and the man in turn gestured for them to go ahead. “See if there’s anything you like. There’s no other way out and we possess the keys.”
Dexter walked forward into the dark passage. Rosh followed behind him, though not without leveling a threatening glare at their guide. Bekka followed as well, though the squeamish look upon her face told that it was a matter of extreme willpower that allowed her to endure the stench.
They made it all the way to the end of the hall, counting seven cells to each side, before they turned and came back. One man alone still lived, so far as they could tell. He looked up at them morosely and they realized it was no man, but a woman. Her face was bruised and cut, with dried blood upon it. She clutched one hand to her stomach, the fingers swollen, blackened, and broken so badly that they would never be set straight again. Much of her hand, in fact, was swollen and discolored.
“I’m no whore!” She spat at them as they stopped to stare at her.
“Not with a face like that,” Rosh said dryly.
Dexter ignored him and instead knelt down next to the bars. “What’s your name?” he asked her softly.
Her eyes widened and her split lips parted. She was missing a few teeth as well, he saw. “Wuh….Willa,” she said, her anger shaken by his question.
“Willa, what’s wrong with you,” Dexter asked her. “I don’t mean why are you here, but what of your hand? And how else are you injured?”
Her eyes narrowed and some of her defiance returned. “I’m no whore!” She said again, using her good hand to help her drag herself across the floor closer to the cell door.
Dexter shook his head. “That’s good, I’m not for wanting a whore.”
She stared at him suspiciously, stopping her painful slide. “My hand’s busted up,” she admitted at last. “Something’s busted in my hip too.”
“Have you any skills? Any talent? Can you work wood or tend to injuries? Have you ever been on a ship?”
She looked away and then back, a glimmer of moisture reflecting in the distant torchlight. Angrily she said, “Leave me here to rot if I can’t slave for you? I can’t do a damned thing with my hand busted like this, and it won’t be healing right neither!”
Dexter shook his head and sighed, then he regretted it as it caused him to draw a full breath. “Willa, I mean to get you out of here no matter what you can do. And I mean to do what I can to get you healed, rested, and fed. I just want to know if you will be able and willing to serve on my ship.”
“You got one of those fancy skyships?” she asked, not believing a word he said.
Dexter nodded, assuming the Voidhawk was what she called a ‘skyship’.
She laughed. “Going to set me and some others up on it to drive it right into something, I bet. I heard what you bastards do! You load them full of oil and such, then ram them into whoever you’re fighting! I’d rather die here, pig!”
Dexter recoiled, surprised at both her enmity and the act she described. To take a ship and waste it in such a matter was as taboo a thing to him as he could imagine.
“Never that, I promise!” He assured her. “I’m the Captain of the Voidhawk. This is my helmswoman and my Arms Master. We lost a good man recently and we’re needing some more help on the deck… The Void is a big place to be running a skeleton crew.”
“The…Void?” she asked, confused by the term.
“Aye, up there,” he said, pointing and glancing towards the ceiling.
“Ain’t no airship you got then, is it?” she asked.
“It sails in the air,” Dexter told her. “But when we’re done here, we’ll go further, to another port in the void, perhaps another planet.”
She leaned forward, grimacing as she did so, and looked down the hall. “I’ll do anything you want…um, C
aptain. Take me with you and I’m yours.”
“Thought you weren’t no whore?” Rosh asked pointedly.
She glanced sharply at him.
“Anything he wants… sounds like whoring to me,” Rosh offered as an explanation.
Dexter held up his hand to stall both of them. “I don’t need nor want a whore,” Dexter said. He ignored the funny noise Rosh made from behind him and pressed on. “Willa, these dirthuggers won’t offer much for help, do you think you can be moved so that we can get you to my ship?”
She nodded, biting her lip resolutely. “I’ll make it.”
“Alright,” Dexter said before rising to his feet and turning towards the opening.
“Bring the keys!” He yelled down the hallway.
A few minutes later a guard, the same one that had opened the door for them, came down to meet them. He held a cloth over his nose with one hand and the keys in the other. He looked at the injured woman and chuckled, then stuck the key in the lock and twisted it. Seeing no reason to stick around, he turned and hurried back out of the fetid passage.
“Help her up, Rosh,” Dexter said, pushing the door open on squealing hinges.
Rosh made a face but stepped in and reached down to gently help Willa to her feet. She grimaced and gasped a few times, even screaming quickly before she bit it off when her ruined hand was jostled.
Rosh held his head back, trying not to gag. When he gained control of himself he said, “Cap, that hand’s got to go. Stinks like rot.”
“We’ll see when we get her back,” Dexter said, seeing it better himself and agreeing with the man. “Can you handle her?”
Rosh nodded. “My sword weighs more than her,” he exaggerated.
Within a half dozen steps Rosh was forced to sweep Willa up completely and carry here in his arms. Each step made caused her to nearly buckle in pain. A dripping noise brought their attention to below them, where red drops were appearing on the dirt floor beneath them.
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