by Brad C Baker
“Huh?” Crallick asked, dumbfounded. Looking up, he realized with shocked amazement that in his rush of hunter’s focus, he had forgotten his purchase. She had dutifully run through the streets, pell-mell following her new master. “Bugger it all,” Crallick was not going to enjoy explaining this back at the ship. “C’mon then.”
The slave-girl hopped gracefully down into the boat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker, master.”
“No need for apology,” Crallick attempted to soothe in a surly voice.
“Of course, sorry master,” came the sweet sounding reply.
Amongst the snickers of the three other men, they swiftly sculled out to the Flamerunner. Oh yeah, when he got back to the ship it was going to be a long bit of explaining indeed.
Chapter Nine
“Knights of the Cairn avenged their fallen brethren
Slaying thousands of foes and the water drake too.
With heroics, they'd be proud to tell their children,
With their dwindling forces, many a foe they slew.”
Verse 10: Ballad of Ser Crallick Carnage-born
Pulling alongside the Flamerunner at the edge of the thicket of ships in Jamtown’s harbor was a tricky prospect. Even though it was a naturally sheltered bay, there was much in the way of navigation that needed to be done. Also, the tide was wrong for the current to be cooperative. Eventually, the task was completed without mishap. The landing party and launch were brought aboard and the stunned crew were confronted by a stunningly beautiful, barely attired ephemeron woman.
“Ahem,” Vlados cleared his throat. “Crallick, is there something we need to discuss?”
“Oh, I’m sure there is,” Crallick pined. “In your quarters.”
“I’d say…” Vlados began, but then was swiftly interrupted by the righteous ranting of Wanda.
“By the goddess’s benevolence! Why in the serene grotto is there a naked woman on the ship?” Her piercing eyes swiftly found Crallick. “You know about this?! What were you thinking? You were supposed to go there for information, nothing more!”
She would have continued, except Vlados stepped in front of her and said quietly, “Hush. Not here. My quarters. Now.”
Heeding his advice, she turned and stormed off to Vlados’s cabin. Before following, Vlados turned to Crallick and sighed. “Good luck mate,” was all he could muster.
“You’re telling me,” Crallick muttered. As he led his slave to follow Vlados, he overheard the gossip swiftly running the ranks of the crew. He knew by the time he was done with Vlados and Wanda, even those off watch would know of the sultry slave girl.
Upon entering Vlados’s cabin, Crallick was again set upon by Wanda. Vlados had to sit her down in a chair and admonish her that if she never gave Crallick a chance to speak, she would never get to the truth.
With a reluctant “Fine, speak!” she crossed her arms over her breast and sat in judgement over Crallick.
‘Of all the sanctimonious shite,’ Crallick thought. He shook his head.
Vlados broke the increasingly awkward silence. “Crallick, what is this?” he gestured at the girl hiding behind Crallick’s shoulder.
“It’s a woman, Vlados. That is plain to see,” Crallick sarcastically chided.
“Of course it is. She’s not wearing anything to disguise that, is she?” Wanda scathed.
“Give it a rest!” Crallick snapped.
“Just tell us what happened,” Vlados soothed in his best bartending voice. And, not knowing what else to do, he pulled out his personal bottle of rum, three glasses, and began to pour.
“Look,” Crallick began. “I just had to go wandering through a disgusting flesh market, pretending that I had an interest in owning a slave. After making a scene with the help of Jetten, I managed to get onto the right track. I was introduced to some Vitani who fancied himself, called Mr. Dazzle.”
Wanda scoffed at this. Vlados rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Crallick agreed. “Anyways, Mr. Dazzle says that he’s the last word in luxury pleasure models, particularly ones who have never been driven…”
“You hear yourself speaking right now?” Wanda shot him, horrified.
Growling, Crallick sniped back, “I do. And I had to do what I had to do to save Vlados’s daughter and my own. I make no goddess damned apologies. Now, do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”
“Go ahead,” Vlados said.
Wanda chewed her inner lip, or cheek, and nodded once.
“Fine.” Crallick’s voice was taught, rimmed with anger. “I got in and found out that he had sold eight girls to Eli Bligh, which is the name of the villain responsible for our kidnapped daughters, by the way. The name I got only after I agreed to purchase some flesh from him. This, and the tidbit of information that Mr. Dazzle somehow likes to ensure his wares are only used as intended. Not to be abused…”
Wanda again interrupted, “How the fuck can you say that Cral? It’s blasphemy. You can’t treat women like property and then claim to care for their well-being. It’s not possible in any form of creation.”
“Again with the interruptions,” Crallick snarled. “Doesn’t your goddess teach tranquility and peace? Why don’t you exercise it?” Before she could muster a retort, Crallick continued. “After I purchased the ‘flesh’,” his voice betrayed just how much disdain he had with the admission, “he made her swallow a gem. I then swallowed the other gem. After he saw I was legitimate, he was persuaded to help me. He told me that the gem allowed him to know if his former property was physically harmed, or killed. It also holds some sort of charm dweomer upon it. He said that all eight girls were slaved to Eli. His two Komodomen, Tukk and Serr, ate none of the gems. They left just yesterday. We’re only one day behind! We have a chance to catch them! We have a chance to save those thirteen girls. That is why I now have her.” Crallick gestured to the cowering ephemorae.
“She has a name, doesn’t she?” Wanda shot in. “If we save the girls at the expense of one, you should at least tell us her name.”
“Uhhh…” Crallick stammered, then fell silent. “There was so much I was focused on, I never even thought to ask.”
“You’re despicable!” Wanda got up and stormed out of the cabin.
“Well,” Crallick muttered sheepishly, “that could have gone better.”
“Aye, that it could,” Vlados agreed. “Look lad, give her some time to process this turn of events. And by gods, I know what that cost you to do that for our daughters. While they might not be here right now to say it, I will. Thank you m’son, you did great.”
Unable to contain herself any longer, the slave girl spoke up quietly. “Have I displeased you, my master?”
As Crallick rolled his eyes at the unwelcome title, Vlados said, “And sure as a lad wants no buggery, ye better be doin’ something about that.”
Crallick turned to the bow-lipped woman. “No, you haven’t, except please don’t call me master.”
“Then what am I to call you, my lord?” she asked.
Vlados choked back a snorted laugh. “Oh, this is rich.”
Crallick glared him into silence, “Don’t you start too.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it Crallick,” he smiled.
“Crallick will do nicely,” Crallick informed the young woman.
“Thank you my lord Crallick,” she said. Then at Vlados’s muffled laugh into his clasping hand, she corrected, “Crallick.”
Crallick smiled as sweetly as he could remember. Could he remember the last time he tried that? Was it at his five-year-old daughter, while he was still sober, or was it at his wife, begging him not to leave, years before. He shook his head free of the memories. Jyslin damn it, he needed a drink. He faked it as best he could. ”That sounds beautiful, the way you say it like that. It’ll do nicely.” He hoped that would come across as praise.
She beamed, “Then, as it pleases your ear, so shall it leave my tongue.”
More words dripped off that honeyed tongue. Cr
allick suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He wryly noticed Vlados fidgeting. “What is your name?”
Sashaying over to him, she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “My name is Kittalae Gathrae, but you can call me whatever you wish, my master.”
Ignoring the heat on his cheeks, which was almost as difficult as ignoring the press of her against his side, Crallick observed, “Kittalae Gathrae is a very lovely name. It will do nicely. Is it Vitani?”
“Yes it is. My mother was bred by a demon of seduction…” she smiled coyly. “You might say that I’m the product of perfect breeding, Crallick.”
Not wishing to offend, Crallick grunted, “Some might say that.” He then tried to disentangle himself. Moving across to Vlados, he asked, “How are we to dress her? Where do we bunk her?”
Vlados, not able to contain himself much more, guffawed, “In whatever pleases you, master.”
“Drop it,” Crallick said.
Kittalae added, “He’s right Crallick, I’ll wear whatever you wish, if this doesn’t please you.” She swished the gold gossamer gown around her body. “And I’ll simply sleep with you, and your wife.”
“My wife?” Crallick gawked.
“I’m sorry Crallick, was the jealous woman not your wife?” Kittalae bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “She acted so possessively, I was certain she was…”
“Wanda?!” Crallick shook his head emphatically. “She’s not my wife! My wife has been dead for ten years now.” The admonishment ended more somberly than Crallick had intended. Jyslin, he needed a drink.
“I’m sorry Crallick. It is good she is not your wife. I didn’t mean to distress you,” Kittalae said soothingly.
“I need a drink. Solve this, Captain,” Crallick suddenly commanded, then left the cabin, door barking on the frame with his exit.
Kittalae sighed, and Vlados groaned. His eyes then softened, in spite of his frustration with his friend. “Look, miss,” he started, catching the young woman’s attention. “It’s not your fault. My friend, Crallick, he carries around a lot of pain, guilt and grief with him. He is a good man at heart. But it’s a might bit difficult to see. Do ye understand?”
Kittalae nodded.
“Now then, how ‘bout ye tell me a few things about yourself? How old are ye, and how did ye come to find yourself in such a place to be sold to my friend? Though knowing his heart, you’re probably in better hands than close to anywhere else ye could be.”
The woman smiled; it was sincere, not applied for presentation. She looked genuinely pleased. “Yes, I know, the wood told me.” She nodded, “I communed with the wood every time a would-be master came into the show-tent. When I got a favorable reading from the element, I …” she looked up, chewing her lower lip lightly in thought, seeking words. “I tried to be more pleasing. When I didn’t feel it, I became plainer. When Crallick came in, the wood cried to me that he walked with life, and light. I was pleased when he chose me. I am barely two decades old.”
With her natural scarlet complexion, Vlados couldn’t tell if she blushed, but her body language suggested a coy humility.
“My mother sold me at the age of fifteen when I still hadn’t garnered any suitors. The boys at my home town, Fenhold, in Bannathyr, used to call at me ‘Kitty Hellcat, come to kiss your soul away.’” She hung her head at the memory. “I was sold for two hundred crowns.”
Vlados spluttered a bit, “But slavery is illegal in Bannathyr! How could you?”
Smiling again, “Just because it’s illegal, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Also, I’m from close to the Tarranthyr marshes. Things are wilder there.”
Nodding, Vlados concurred, “I suppose so. Now look lass, I understand that Crallick finds you more than a bit distractin’ in that see-through thing yer all wrapped up in. And yeah, in a very pleasing way to be sure. But he needs his wits about him. I need my crew thinking about things other than spending time with you.”
“Well, they never could unless my master permitted it, and if I’m not mistaken, I don’t think he shares well with others.” Kittalae smiled for effect.
“No he doesn’t, but that don’t change the direction that men’s minds take. Savvy?”
“Savvy?” came the confused response.
“Sorry,” Vlados clarified, “I think that be a Jherrim word meaning ‘understand’. I picked it up while sailing. Sailors use it a lot.”
“I see, and yes I savvy,” she smiled.
“Now, I just happen to have a trunk full of ladies attire over there that I inherited from the first captain of this ship. You are welcome to any of it that fits you.” Vlados dragged out a trunk that he had been using as a table, then opened it for her to rummage through.
“Ohhh, she had good taste!” Kittalae practically squealed with delight. She dove at the trunk. Without modesty, she shucked the sheer that draped her nudity in a golden cloud. She then plopped cross-legged in front of the trunk, pulling out and discarding items of clothing until she found things to her tastes. This took an exceedingly long time for poor Vlados, who tried to focus on charts, on his log, on the sleeping arrangements, on anything other than her.
Finally, after what seemed like a tenday, she rose up clad in tight red breeches that so matched her skin, he thought at first she had forgotten pants. Likewise, her feet were sheathed in red boots, adorned with gold appointments on the tips of the leather at the calf and at the toe. Eyelets and buckles were likewise gold. The shirt she had selected was of white silk, and was a little too short and a little too tight to be modest. However, the fabric did its best to conceal her chest, though it failed to hide the darkness at each breast. She had also selected a pair of elbow length gloves that matched her boots, inasmuch as they were red, leather, and had gold eyelets where red leather thongs tied the gloves in place.
Looking quite pleased with herself, Kittalae asked the gobsmacked dwarf, “Would this suffice?”
“It’ll have to, I suppose.” Though in his head he was wondering how the presentation improved the situation. Aw, Grotto. It was Crallick’s problem, not his. “You and Crallick will sleep in here from now on. I’ll move my things to Crallick’s cabin. It’s big enough for what I need. Also, Crallick may want you sleeping on a different cot from his.” Then he winked before any insult could be taken, “For reasons of his own, and having nothing to do with you.”
She nodded.
Moving from the lantern-lit cabins, to the maindeck that was less lit by glowing lanterns and more by the silvery shine of the tropical moon, Vlados led Kittalae to the bow of the Flamerunner.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve moved my things out.” Vlados wandered off, grabbing a deckhand on his way, “C’mon, I need a hand mate.”
“Aye Captain,” came the dutiful reply.
Left alone with the sea breezes playing warm tales across her face, Kittalae allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of reverie, losing herself to her own thoughts as she had done many times in the slave pens. She reached out to the wood of the ship. Even though it had been poisoned with pitch, tar, things of fire, and death, there was still power in its structure and vitality in its presence. She was comforted.
“I’m sorry,” a soft feminine voice jarred her from her self-induced meditation.
“Huh?” Kittalae turned to see Wanda standing in the moonlight.
“I’m sorry,” Wanda repeated. “I must have come across as very harsh and untranquil. I am a Flowwvite sister, so my behavior is unseemly. I apologise. Your lot is not your fault.”
“No apologies needed, ma’am. I’m quite suited for my role,” Kittalae said.
“No, child, you are not. No one is suited for slavery. Tell me, do you have faith?” Wanda swelled up her sermon voice.
“I’m no child, ma’am. And indeed I have a faith. It is what Crallick choose me,” Kittalae said.
“Really? How old are you?” Wanda said. “And pray, do not refer to me as ma’am. Wanda or Sister Swells will suffice.”
“Of course sister. I am nearl
y twenty.”
“As old as all that?” Wanda smiled graciously. “Well, one can have a lot of wisdom packed into so short a time. I shall not judge, save by your actions. As to the matter of your faith?”
“Of course, sister,” Kittalae smiled. “I commune with the element of wood. The element guides me. It showed me that Crallick, despite his outward appearance and smell, was an ally.”
“Smell?” Wanda was perplexed. Had she travelled so long with the knight-ranger to become acclimated to something distasteful?
“Yes, his trophies he hangs around his neck fouls an otherwise pleasant musk.” Kittalae dropped her gaze, “Forgive my bold observation. I hope he’ll allow me to tan his trophies properly.”
Laughing, Wanda said, “Good luck with that my dear. Mind you, he is a dear friend. I was unable to tear him away from his wife while she lived, and I respected him for that. When it became apparent her death spelt the end of the man I knew, I turned to the cloth. He turned to the bottle. Do not hurt him though, for I care deeply for him, and my vengeance shall be most… un-Flowwelike.” Wanda’s face softened, “That said, I abhor slavery and all it entails, so if you are ever mistreated, I shall end my friend to spare his soul.”
Kittalae’s face darkened, “I shall have to tell Crallick of such treacherous words.”
“No need,” Crallick’s voice cut out of the moonlight. “I would expect no less from the holy harlot, the spiritual stripper, the penitent prostitute. I hold her to keep those words. I too, abhor slavery. If not in such a dire way to find my daughter, you would have still remained there, with no ties to me whatsoever.”
“Then perhaps tied to someone less kind and benevolent…” Kittalae interrupted to try to soothe his spirit. “I am pleased to be bound to you. My place could have been much more grievous.”
“It may still be,” Crallick growled with a bit of a slur in his voice.
The two women wrinkled their noses at the odor of stale rum on his breath. He staggered a step on the rolling deck. He caught a soft rope, then realized it was Kittalae’s arm that had lashed out to steady him.
