by Rob J. Hayes
They’d already passed a number of slave pens, fenced-off enclosures open to the sky that held all manner of men, women, and children, all bearing the iron collars of slavery. The pens were extensive, and they weren’t only confined to the Stone district. There were always new slaves coming in, older slaves unable to be offloaded, or those who had yet to have their wills broken to make them useful for servitude. Thousands of folk all penned up and awaiting a life of hellish toil and degradation. This was the side of humanity Keelin truly hated, and he wasn’t alone in that. There wasn’t a pirate in the isles who agreed with or condoned slavery, not least of all because their chosen profession could easily lead to such a fate.
Morley made his opinion on the matter known in a very vocal fashion, tutting and cursing at the conditions the people were kept in. For his part Keelin agreed with his first mate, but he remained silent on the matter. He didn’t want his condemnation of the practice to be heard by the slavers guild until long after he was back at sea. Kebble also remained silent. If the man was as old as he claimed, then he had likely seen more slavery than all of them combined. Keelin still couldn’t bring himself to believe that Kebble was immortal.
The slavers guild hall was an ugly building on the southern side of the district. It stood two storeys tall and had been built with orange stone, where most of the surrounding buildings were grey. Guards were out in full force, with twelve at the entrance all carrying spears, cudgels, and whips. Keelin had spotted regular groups patrolling the district as well. It all gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach.
“I’d like to see the guild master,” Keelin said to the first guard outside the hall. “I plan to make a substantial purchase.”
The guard looked Keelin up and down, his gaze coming to a brief rest on the twin cutlasses, then nodded and motioned for the three of them to follow. Another two of the guards fell in line behind Keelin and his crew, and they quickly found themselves penned in as they entered the hall. The inside of the building was a grand sight, with large tapestries depicting scenes of greatness or monsters of old, and statues of men of all shapes and sizes. Each statue bore a nameplate, but the significance was lost on Keelin. Servants wearing iron collars rushed here and there, and the presence of soldiers was as strong inside as it was out. One slave stopped when she saw Keelin and his escort, then rushed away into a nearby room. A good few moments later, a tall man as thin as a stick sauntered out of the same room.
“How can we help you today?” he said, with a bow of his head that set his many earrings to jingling.
“You the guild master?” Keelin said.
“No. My name is Tindon Lopor, assistant to…”
“I am Captain Keelin Stillwater, emissary to King Drake Morrass, and I am here to make a substantial purchase of your particular wares,” Keelin said with a flourish. “Very substantial. So how about you scurry away and bring me the man in charge, eh?”
“King Morrass?” The man sounded rather sceptical.
“Aye,” Keelin said, crossing his arms and levelling a stare at him.
Lopor shifted from one foot to another until it became apparent that Keelin would say no more. “I shall see if Master Tain is available.”
“If he ain’t, I suggest you tell him to be available.”
Lopor hesitated for just a moment before scurrying away.
“That was brusque, Captan,” Morley said, and Keelin detected a hint of approval.
“Aye. Position of strength, and all that,” he said quietly. “For all the bastard’s evil, Tanner taught me well on the best ways to negotiate with those that reckon they’re powerful.”
They were left waiting and guarded in the opulent hall for a long time. The guards watched them but didn’t stop them wandering, and Keelin took the opportunity to give the statues a closer look. Each one appeared to be a life-sized depiction of the guild’s masters dating back hundreds of years. He was examining one of the statues when its walking, talking counterpart strolled down a nearby staircase. Keelin quickly checked the nameplate and discovered the man’s name was Somolus Tain. The statue was tall and broad, with a bald head, four bars running through its nose, and an exquisitely trimmed beard that gave it a distinguished appearance. The man looked remarkably similar, only with a lot less colour.
“Captain Stillwater,” Somolus Tain said, his voice clipped. He walked with a limp that somehow managed to look sinister to Keelin’s eyes. “I must apologise for your poor treatment. We were not expecting you.”
“No reason you would have been,” Keelin said with a predatory smile.
“Tell me, Captain Stillwater, are you here with Captain Black?”
“Eh? No. I’m here on my own.”
“I see.”
It seemed more than just a little odd that the man would ask if he was with Tanner. Most folk who knew anything about the pirates knew that Keelin had long ago unhitched his wagon from Tanner’s horse.
“I’m told you wish to make a purchase,” Somolus said. The man was just a few feet from Keelin now, and he smelled strongly of strawberries.
A memory welled up inside Keelin. A young boy’s days spent in the local fields with his mother and younger sister. His mother had loved to pick fresh fruit, and Leesa had loved any opportunity to be out of bed even if she did have to be carried wherever she went. He couldn’t remember their faces. No matter how hard Keelin tried, he could never remember their faces.
“Captain Stillwater?”
“Aye, a purchase.” Keelin nodded. “Looking for a lot too.”
“Forgive my ignorance, Captain. Traditionally you pirates do not purchase or keep slaves.”
“Traditions change,” Keelin said. “Especially when there’s a war on.”
“Indeed.” Somolus gave a small bow of his head. “War is often a profitable time for my guild. I’m sure we can accommodate your needs. What exactly are you looking for?”
“Sailors, fighters, anyone with a trade.”
“Expensive tastes,” Somolus cooed. “Which sex would you prefer?”
“Both. A good mix would be appreciated.”
“And how substantial would this purchase be?”
“At least two hundred bodies.”
“Captan,” Morley said, turning his back to the guild master. “That would be a lot of coin, Captan, and we have no way to transport so many back to the isles.” He was whispering, but Keelin could see worry plain on his first mate’s face. “At a push we could maybe take on another fifty passengers, if they don’t mind sleeping on deck. We could never take two hundred.”
“For an extra fee we would be able to transport your property to wherever it needs to be,” Somolus Tain said with a voice like honey. “I guarantee most of the slaves would survive the trip.”
Keelin thought about it for a moment, but the last thing he wanted was to condone a slaving ship entering the Pirate Isles. They were busy trying to stamp out the despicable trade in their waters, and to not only let them through, but also contract them to cross…
“I will arrange transport myself,” Keelin said, pushing Morley aside. “How soon can you have them ready?”
Somolus Tain’s face split into a wide grin. “I will have them ready for your inspection in just a few hours. After that I expect it will take a few days to prepare them for transport. If you wish, I can provide refreshments at our guild’s local tavern while you wait. Of course, we will cover the expense.”
“Aye,” Keelin said. “An ale wouldn’t go amiss while you sort the poor bastards out.”
Keelin had to give one thing to the slavers guild – they treated their more refined slaves quite well. When Somolus Tain’s assistant fetched Keelin and his two crew members from the tavern, Keelin had expected to be shown a bunch of wasted, rag-wearing, dirty men and women, all with iron collars and hollow eyes. He wasn’t wrong on the last part.
They were standing inside one of the slave pens atop a raised stone platform. Keelin looked down on hundreds of faces, some of which stared
back at him while others kept their eyes dutifully lowered. They were all dressed in plain grey shifts with no ornamentation other than their collars. For the most part, the slaves were clean and looked healthy. No doubt the guild kept the skilled products away from the ragtag scum they picked up off the street.
Keelin found himself wondering how these people had found their way into their current predicament. He shook his head to clear his mind, and found a pit of anger waiting for him in his stomach at seeing so many good people debased in such a tragic way. Slavery had always seemed horrific to Keelin, even when he was young and his family had owned slaves who worked the nearby mines. When he was younger he’d wanted to save them, to free them. Now he was older, and freeing slaves was exactly what he was about to do.
“As you can see,” Somolus Tain started as he limped up the steps to join Keelin and his crew, “they have been treated kindly because of their skills.”
“You mean their value?” Keelin said bitterly.
“Indeed. Valuable to us, but more so to yourself, it seems.”
“Eh?”
“It appears you need them, therefore they have value to you.” Somolus sounded smug. “If you did not, then you would not be willing to purchase them. I can tell by the way you look at them that you do not entirely agree with the lot they have been dealt. So your need must be great indeed. So their value to you is also great indeed.”
“There’s more than two hundred here,” Keelin said, his voice grating.
“Of course,” Somolus said. “You asked for at least two hundred, so I have provided more. Also, it may be that not all are to your liking. I implore you to walk among them and examine each one. I assure you it will be quite safe. If you find any you do not like the look of, I shall have them removed. There are three hundred and thirty-four slaves gathered before you.”
Keelin ground his teeth at the display, and his hands clenched into fists.
“Can you break down their numbers by their skill sets and previous occupations?” Kebble said, stepping forward and gently moving Keelin aside with a hand on his shoulder. The sharpshooter gave his captain a brief glance before turning to Somolus Tain. “It would help us to decide upon the number we wish to purchase.”
As the guild master began to quote numbers to Kebble, Keelin jumped off the platform and walked among the slaves. He saw men and women of all creeds and races. He saw some who were clearly from the World’s Edge mountains, north of the Five Kingdoms. Not many folk grew so large, and there was a fierce pride in their eyes that no amount of whippings or beatings could tear out of them.
Keelin saw black skins from the southern Wilds and the painted faces of Riverlanders. He saw men and women with golden hair that suggested they were from Sarth, and many and more with the olive skin of those who called the Dragon Empire their home. There were folk from every kingdom arrayed before him, and all stood quietly while they awaited a decision as to their fates.
Keelin stopped in front of a tall, broad woman who had the look of someone who had once been well muscled, but poor conditions had led to some withering. Her hair was short, dark, and wiry, and her nose was bent.
“What’s your name?” he said.
“Eldred,” the woman said in an Acanthian accent.
“You know how to fight?” She looked up into Keelin’s eyes, and there was danger there. However she might have been treated, it hadn’t been enough to put out her fire.
“I do,” she said.
Keelin looked back up at the platform, where Kebble was still in deep conversation with Somolus Tain. The slaver’s guards were busy keeping watch on the slaves as a group, rather than Keelin’s conversation with a single woman.
“How did you come to wear a collar?”
The woman glared at Keelin for a moment, then dropped her eyes. “By way of debt, sir.” She spat the final word.
Keelin laughed softly. “I am no knight. I’m a pirate. You can call me Keelin, or Captain Stillwater. Whichever makes you happiest. How did debt give you a collar?”
Again the woman looked up at Keelin. This time there was suspicion in her eyes. “I was part of a mercenary company in the Dragon Empire. Small but competent. We travelled around looking for folk in trouble, and fixed that trouble so long as they could pay. We hunted foul people and creatures alike. Rarely stopped to think about the consequences.
“After one successful mission to eradicate a lair of urrlas, we ended up spending a bit more than we earned. Quite a bit more, actually.” Eldred stopped and took in a ragged breath before sighing it out. “We couldn’t pay the debt, and instead of allowing us to work it off the local town magistrate called on his prince.
“Before we even realised how fucked we were, we had a dragon fly down on us. Reat got ate by the fucking monster, and the rest of us threw down our weapons rather than follow his lead. Magistrate thanked the prince and sent him on his way. Then promptly called this buggering lot to come and slap collars on us. Reckon he got paid a good few bits for the trouble.”
“They haven’t managed to sell you yet?”
The woman gave Keelin a lopsided grin. “Folk don’t tend to want to stick weapons in the hands of their slaves, and there ain’t much else I’m good for than swinging a length of steel.”
Keelin glanced first to his left and then to his right. There seemed to be a good number of folk who looked like they knew how to swing a sword.
“What would you give for your freedom?” he said.
“Ain’t got nothing to give,” she replied quickly.
“Sure ya do.” Keelin smiled. “You’ve got your allegiance.”
Eldred narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, sure. Reckon I’d give that.”
“What about the others?” Keelin gestured to the rest of the slaves.
“Can’t say for certain, but I reckon most would give anything they could to be out of this fucking iron.” Eldred tugged on her collar to make her point.
Keelin turned and went quickly back to the stone platform, leaping up the steps to join his two crew members and Somolus Tain.
“How are the numbers, Morley?” he said.
“Pricey, but we can afford them with the money Drake gave us. How we’d get them all home, I don’t know.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Are they all to your liking, Captain Stillwater?” Somolus Tain said, still sounding smug.
“We’re about to find out.” Keelin grinned and turned to address the crowd of slaves.
“My name is Keelin Stillwater, captain of The Phoenix, and I sail under the flag of King Drake Morrass. The Pirate Isles are at war with Sarth and the Five Kingdoms, and we are trying to build the isles into a place where folk from anywhere can live the lives they please. We’re looking for men and women who can fight, who can sail, and who have a trade. What we’re offering you in return is your freedom.”
“Captain Stillwater…” Somolus screeched, stepping forward.
“Silence him,” Keelin roared, pointing at the slaver.
Kebble stepped behind the guild master and drew a long knife from his belt, holding it to the man’s neck. The guards started forwards, but stopped once they realised their master’s life was in imminent danger.
“What are you doing, Captan?” Morley said quietly.
“Making a statement, Morley. Letting everyone know the isles are open to all.”
“The slavers guild…”
“Fuck the guild,” Keelin hissed, low enough that no one else would hear. “Drake’s already declared war on them, just word hasn’t reached here yet. We take what we can for as little as we can, and get the fuck out of here before they decide to stop us.”
Morley looked caught between arguing further and following his captain’s lead. Luckily for them both, he chose the latter and backed off a step.
Keelin raised his voice to a shout again. “So there’s the deal. Anyone who wants their freedom can find it in the Pirate Isles. Ain’t gonna say it’ll be an easy life, but it wil
l be whatever the fuck you want it to be.” He turned to stare at Somolus Tain, Kebble’s knife still at the man’s throat. “I’ll take them all,” he shouted.
The slaves began to speak, a loud murmur rising behind Keelin. Most of it sounded excited. Keelin approached the guild master.
“Say what you will, Tain.”
“We have a policy, Captain Stillwater,” the slaver said, his voice calm despite the knife at his throat. “We do not release slaves, nor sell to those who offer freedom.”
“You’re gonna break that policy this time,” Keelin growled. “I’ll take all these poor bastards, and I’ll even pay you full price for them. And you’re going to thank me for it. If you don’t, you’ll have to find yourself a new shipping route, because I’ll make sure we pirate every fucking slaver that passes within a hundred leagues of the Pirate Isles.”
“You would start a war with us over three hundred worthless lives?”
“Let him go,” Keelin said, and Kebble immediately stepped back, removing the knife from the slaver’s throat. The guards started forwards again with weapons drawn. “You’d be the one starting the war, Tain. I’m just trying to buy a bit of flesh from you. How do you think the slavers in Chade or Sarth will feel when they hear you fucked up their shipping lanes over a few hundred worthless lives?”
Somolus Tain waved for his guards to stand down. There was rage in his expression, but it was clear he was beaten.
“Have them ready for transport in three days, Tain,” Keelin said. “And no mistreatment of them. I want my product whole and intact.”