by Brian Keller
*****
Yoren Aporigh didn’t seem impatient exactly, but he certainly wasn’t pleased with the lack of activity over the last several days. Each day he’d asked her, more than once, whether she’d felt anything new. Each time, she’d informed him, “Nothing, sir. But I’ll certainly let you know the moment that changes.” The Spymaster often appeared to disapprove and on one occasion Iona told him, “I can’t detect him unless he accesses his Gift; and I can’t very well make him use it, sir.” Yoren’s voice had become sharp, “I’m quite aware of that. Still, someone like that… why would they not access their Gift?” Iona had no answer for that.
So many things were new to her. The fact that she had her own room was nothing new to her, but this room had a window that looked out over the city. She’d never even considered that as a possibility. Mister Aporigh had clothes brought for her. As he described it, she needed clothes that more closely fit her new station, more fitting for someone in his direct employ. Perhaps the best part of all was that there were so few people nearby that she didn’t feel the constant assault of sensations and auras. She could still feel them, true enough, but it was like a wind chime on a neighbor’s house, rather than having a carnival in the same room.
She was surrounded by things that seemed new and wondrous, but she was also so unbelievably bored. By no means did she want to return to the University, even boredom was better than being poked and prodded, magically speaking, but it felt strange to be doing nothing at all. She’d asked whether she might be allowed to go and find some study material, but so far the Spymaster hadn’t deigned to let her depart the premises. She’d never even considered entering the Palace District before and she’d been in awe at first, but then realized that most of the district was arranged much like other areas of the city. But it was different, and it wasn’t just the security measures. Everything was cleaner and more orderly. The paint on all the structures was new, or at least no more than a couple years old. While in the Grid, it was obvious that everyone attended their own properties and kept them immaculate, but in the Palace District even the streets were kept clean and neat. The roving patrols still happened, but the majority of the security forces occupied guard posts that were positioned every couple of blocks. Every guardpost was equipped with a bell and at least one guard on a roving patrol carried a “grinder”. A grinder was a small, metal box with a handle filled with gears and flat strips of metal that, when whirled in a tight circular pattern, created a loud, irritating grinding/clattering noise. The sound carried for at least a block and was unmistakable, yet not as likely to wake the neighbors as a clanging bell.
In lieu of having anything else to occupy her mind, she spent much of her time either grasping the axe or holding the coins, as if she was trying to wring out some additional sensation. There was nothing there that she hadn’t already felt. She was firm in her belief that her target was the smaller boy in Guild attire, and both he and the young Guild Assassin, whom she’d “met” earlier were fighting against the slavers. By extrapolation, it seemed apparent then that the Guild was fighting against the slavers. She had always considered that the Guild was at the heart of much of the city’s corruption, but now things appeared a little more complicated than that.
Chapter 30
Cooper attended his classes, both Miss Camilla’s and Master Worthan’s, then returned to the Wharf City afterward. He hadn’t even made it all the way to the First’s ship before he was recognized and thanked by the skeptical man that had joined Mardon for dinner. He said, “I don’t know what kind of “quiet word” you had with Iacoss, but I can’t be sure if he even put a boat out in the bay this morning. If he did, I never saw any of them.” It looked like he started to extend a hand but then reconsidered. He shuffled his feet a little awkwardly, “I just wanted to say “thanks” and apologize for doubting you earlier. I just never thought anyone would ever look out for us like that… anyway, thanks.” Cooper watched the man turn and shuffle away. He wondered if he should say something, but what? The man had said what he wanted to say, perhaps that was enough to know that Iacoss had done as he’d requested. He thought, “Well, as long as he doesn’t send his fishermen back to make trouble, that should be the end of that. I suppose I should still go and confirm the arrangements with Mardon, but if the sellswords hold to their pattern, they won’t be going out tonight.” As he crossed from boat to boat, he wondered what he might do with an evening without any obligations. He’d probably spend it studying for Miss Camilla’s upcoming test.
Mardon greeted him with enthusiasm, “Kinsman! You do honor to your organization! I never doubted that you’d accomplish your task, but to do so in a single night, and not even the night you’d planned for it. Truly impressive.” Kinsman waved it off, “I simply passed your message along. I don’t expect you should have any further trouble from him, but that hardly means that your troubles are over…” The First was nodding in agreement, “Very true, lad. But tonight I do not expect your quarry to be out. Have you simply come for a visit?” Kinsman shook his head, “No, sir. I have come to confirm your satisfaction, which I believe I have done, and to retrieve my bow.” The First clapped his hands, “Of course! Let me step below. I’ll be right back with it.” True to his word, he was back on deck in less than a minute carrying his canvas-wrapped bundle. Kinsman gave it a cursory glance and slung it over his shoulder. He gave Mardon a nod and said, “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, sir. All I should need is a confirmation that they’ve gone out, and then someone to accompany me to the boardwalk to point them out upon their return.” Mardon gave him a grin as he confirmed it, “You can count on that and more.” Kinsman stopped and gave him a questioning look, “I’ll follow them myself, sir. All I’ll need is what I’ve asked you for.” The First merchant’s grin became a smile, “Not talking about that, lad. I happen to know that the Guild also opposes the flow of Apex into the city. I have informants of my own learning more about that. Once you’ve completed your current task, I may have some additional information for you to take back home with you. I consider it to be in our shared interests, but you can consider it a bonus for completing my request so thoroughly and discreetly.”
Kinsman raised his hand to touch his fingertips to his forehead as he turned to leave. As he walked away, he was thinking, “Discreet? How could he think of that as discreet? He as much as advertised it amongst a half dozen Wharfsiders and most likely each of them have told two or more friends by now.”
As Cooper left the Wharf City and stepped into the Waterfront, walking south, his thoughts stretched towards his next actions. He’d need to report his progress and his plans, “But now that Vorni’s dead, who do I report to?”, he wondered, “The Guildmaster, I suppose…”
The response he received following his report was unexpected. As he relayed the events of the last few days, Master Worthan became irate, “Had you considered that Iacoss might have paid for Guild protection? And that ‘visiting’ him in his home would be violating that protection? In essence, attacking someone we’d been paid to leave alone?” Cooper shook his head, “Sir, nothing in the library suggested any such arrangement. Was his record incomplete? Did I overlook something? The materials in the library are often so disorganized that it is difficult to find everything.” The old man was shaking his head and his tone was sharp, “Thankfully, there is no such arrangement with him, but we have such arrangements with several wealthy residents of the city. Regardless, this hardly changes the fact that you carried out an unsanctioned contract without speaking to anyone.” Cooper still felt he had done the right thing, and strove to explain his actions, “But, sir! You said that I shouldn’t enter any deals that I couldn’t settle myself. I settled it and I earned the gratitude of the Wharfsiders by doing it. Besides, Vorni’s dead. Was I supposed to bring a small matter like this to you?” Master Worthan seated himself but his expression did not soften, “Yes. There are additional considerations, whether you are aware of them or not. You do not yet have the authority to acc
ept contracts. If you are approached by a prospective client with an offer, you bring it to me or to Vorni’s replacement, once we have identified who that is. Then a decision can be made to accept it, or refuse it. That decision will be based on more information than you’re likely to have.” Cooper actually felt a little indignant, “But, sir. I was just doing what I thought you had tol-” The Guildmaster raised a finger and interrupted him, “Cooper, this is starting to sound less like explanation and more like argument. It would be a poor choice to continue to press further.” Cooper stopped speaking. Master Worthan took a deep breath in an attempt to clear the air, and continued, “Now that we’ve addressed that, you still have the task that you were actually sent to complete. Where do we stand on that?” Cooper explained the current circumstances and Master Worthan replied, “Then I suggest you return to the Wharf City tonight and see what develops.” The Guildmaster started a dismissive wave but as Cooper rose to leave the room, Master Worthan still had more to say, “I have given an assignment to Felis. Not unusual in the fact that he’ll be assessing an individual for potential, we do that all the time; but unusual in the aspect that the person he’ll be assessing is someone we’d normally keep as distant as possible. It was Felis, himself that brought the possibility to my attention. I mention this now only because it pertains to you, and to me.” He paused for a breath as he assessed whether he had Cooper’s attention. He had it. “Felis has gone to make an assessment of the University’s Hunter. The mage that Kolrem nearly killed on the Waterfront.” Cooper took a moment to find the words, “Sir, I can see how it might be a benefit, if she should be receptive… and I don’t doubt Felis’ skills, but how might anyone even assess such a person? And how might the value outweigh the risks?” The old man stroked his beard, “All excellent questions, and thankfully none of those are your concern. I sought merely to inform you since it’s apparent to all of us that it’s you she’s searching for.” Cooper was scratching his head, still at a loss, “Sir, what are we hoping to gain from her? Or is it that we simply wish to discourage her from compromising us?” The old man smiled, “We hope to gain more than that. Felis has informed me that she has been moved from the University to the Palace. She now works for the Royal Spymaster.” Cooper couldn’t prevent his stunned expression, “The Palace, sir?! How does Felis intend to meet with her?” Master Worthan chuckled as he shook his head slightly, “I do not involve myself with how our Assassins conduct their tasks,” he paused as he raised an eyebrow, “only with assigning the tasks themselves. Which brings us back to our earlier point. Let me conclude with the assurance that while I appreciate your enthusiasm and motivation, what I need from you is just a touch of self-discipline. I know you have the Guild’s best interests in mind. I expect you to serve those interests actually, not just conceptually. Until you have a firmer grasp on what our interests truly are, you must trust the rest of us to guide your actions.” Cooper nodded, even though he didn’t truly understand. He knew things had been progressing too smoothly… he knew something had to have been wrong.
Cooper returned to the library and spent much of the afternoon adding to the Wharfsider documents. There was so little available, so much of what he’d learned was all new. He wrote only what he knew and expected to remain unchanged; social structure and such. He did write several entries on a sheet titled,” Mardon – First Merchant” and wrote the date in the upper right corner, knowing that this kind of information was subject to change annually. He also knew that whether First Merchant or not, Mardon would doubtlessly remain a powerful fixture in the Wharfsider community throughout his lifetime.
As the light started to dim, he realized that he might be missing dinner. If that was the case, then there obviously wasn’t a dinner bell in the library. He supposed that made sense, but even researchers need to eat. He properly stowed the sheets of parchment and quickly headed off to the dining room. Once he was seated with his friends he learned that the discussion mostly centered around Miss Camilla’s upcoming test, even though only a few of this small crowd was even attending her Anatomy class. Kolrem raised up from his tray to ask Cooper, “Are you ready for it?” Despite knowing the conversation was about the test, his mind was still on what he expected to have ahead of him tonight. His voice was a little uncertain, “I think so…” Kolrem snorted, “You think so?! You know the material far better than the rest of us, I’d wager.” Cooper was confused, “Wha-. Oh, the test. Sure… I’m ready. When is it?” Kolrem set down his utensils, an almost unheard of event in the dining hall, “When?” He leaned in and squinted, “It’s tomorrow morning. Do you even know what day it is?” Cooper looked down at his tray, then at Kolrem, and then back down, “Oh… right.” He needed to finish his dinner quickly and go find Miss Camilla. He needed to explain that he would need to make up her test later. He expected she wouldn’t be especially pleased with the news, but he was on a new assignment.
He entered Miss Camilla’s Apothecary lab, knowing that this was the most likely place to find her at this hour. He’d reached the midpoint of the room when she acknowledged him, “Mister Cooper! I haven’t seen you for a few days. You’re either very early, or incredibly late.” As he drew closer to her work table he spoke, “It’s about the test tomorrow, Miss. I’m ready, I think, but I’m on an assignment that will likely take me through the night and into the morning. I am unlikely to be back in time to take your test in the morning.” Miss Camilla stared at him then raised a single eyebrow, “Missing another of my tests? Hoping to get all the details from your classmates before taking the test yourself?” He took a breath to defend himself and Miss Camilla chuckled, “I’m teasing you, Cooper. I expect you’ll do just fine on the test… but I can’t excuse you from it.” He nodded, “That’s just it, Miss. I was coming in to find out when I might make it up.” She shrugged, “Would you like to take it right now?” He felt a quick jolt but had to refuse, “I would, Miss, but I really need to get over t-… get back to my task.” Miss Camilla crossed her arms over her chest, “Come back in tomorrow and we’ll see.” Cooper took in a quick breath to speak, but she cut him off, “Tomorrow or the next day. As soon as you’re able. Alright?” He nodded, “Thank you, Miss. I’ll come find you again once I have a chance.” He turned and left the room, stopping only to pick up a few items from the sleeping bay before making his way to the Wharf City.
He announced himself as he boarded the First’s boat and heard an answering call from below. Mardon poked his head up through the hatch and grinned, “Ready?” Kinsman lowered his shoulder and half-turned to let the canvas bundle slide from his shoulder. Once he had his bow unwrapped, he inspected the string where it was threaded through the notches at the ends of the bow. Once satisfied, he let his arms drop to his sides and looked at the First, “I’m ready.” Mardon shook his head as he chuckled, “I ask if you’re ready, and you check your equipment. That’s funny.” Kinsman wasn’t sure he understood what the man meant, and he surely didn’t see what was funny about it.
The First had left Kinsman sitting along the rail of his ship, facing northeast, watching the water. After a few hours, Silas boarded and approached, then sat down next to him, “If they’re going out tonight, it should be in the next couple of hours.” Kinsman asked, “You’re going to point them out and follow me to the boardwalk?” Silas nodded, “The First told me what you did to help us. He’s paying me to help you,” Silas leaned in closer and lowered his voice, “but between you and me, I’d help you for free. There aren’t many around willing to help us.” Kinsman replied, “He’s paying me, too. A favor for a favor.” Both of them remained silent as they looked out over the water.
Kinsman tipped a couple of arrows with Debilitas and carefully slid them into loops sewn onto the sides of the quiver. Then did the same with two darts, sliding them into sheaths sewn into his leather bracers, one to the left wrist and one to the right. He didn’t want to try fighting three or four swordsmen at once, but he needed to try and keep all the sellswords alive; at least until he
learned what he needed. After that…
Silas sat upright and pointed, “That’s them!” he exclaimed in hushed tones. Kinsman leaned forward to get a clearer view, “Three men. Just like before”, he thought. He turned to Silas, “You know where these men will be landing when they come back?” Silas nodded, “I know where they’ve been tying off when they come back. There’s only a few places over that way where they can.” Kinsman waited a few minutes, to let the boat move further past, then he stood up, “Alright, show me.”
Five minutes later, they were standing next to the spot Silas said was the most likely, “This looks like where they came away from.” Kinsman nodded and flexed the bowstring, “Stay here until we can see them again, then leave.” Silas pointed out over the water, “We should be able to see them there in fifteen or twenty minutes.” Kinsman nocked one of his tipped arrows and squatted down to wait.
Almost twenty minutes later, Silas started to point and Kinsman said, “I know. I see them too. Goodnight, Silas.” Silas stood and replied, “Goodnight. And good hunting.” As he walked away, Kinsman thought he heard him muttering something like, “…ain’t no way to make a livin’.” As the boat paddled closer, Kinsman realized he wasn’t able to tell which man, or men, had crossbows. He needed to identify them before they’d gotten too close. He needed to do something that would draw them out. He stood up and began walking down the pier toward them and called out, “Whatcha fellas up to out there? What’re ye dumpin’?” All three men jerked their heads around to look in his direction. The man at the rear of the boat dropped his oar in his water and reached down to his feet to pull up a crossbow. Kinsman had already raised his bow, he simply adjusted his aim and released. His release was smooth and he hoped that the arrow wouldn’t hit anything vital. The arrow hit and the man fell backward, motionless. The crossbow, clasped with limp fingers, rested across his thighs. The man in the center of the boat heard the hiss of the arrow as it passed. He turned and saw that his partner was hit, then he reached for the crossbow. He immediately sprouted an arrow from his left buttock and he collapsed to the bottom of the boat. The third man’s head swiveled from Kinsman, who’d already nocked a third arrow, to the two other men in the boat, “You’ve killed them?” Kinsman spoke past the nocked arrow, “No. Not yet. Finish bringing the boat in. I’m boarding, then we’ll go back out for a chat.” The other man looked uncertain, “Ahh, I don’t think I wanna do that.” Kinsman took a step closer, never wavering his aim, “I could simply kill you, swim to your boat, revive your friends and have my chat with them. The only difference would be that I’d be wet and you’d be dead. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay dry.” The man began to paddle awkwardly toward the pier, “What do you want to chat about? And why shoot arrows into us?” Kinsman remained silent until the boat was close enough to board. Once he’d seated himself, he set his bow down, causing the sellsword to smile. Kinsman smiled back at him, “Let’s get this boat turned around. I’d like you to show me where you’ve been working. We can talk while we paddle out.” The sellsword’s tone was sarcastic, “So you’re gonna paddle, too?” Kinsman replied, “Yes. From the rear of the boat. You’ll need both hands on your oar, so I’ll always know where your hands are. We can talk as we go.” Once they’d turned the boat, Kinsman began with his questions, “What can you tell me about your employer?” The man snorted, “What? Just like that?” Kinsman replied, “Sure, unless you have some reason to hold onto that information. Is it some kind of secret?” The sellsword grunted as he pulled the oar through the water, “Nah, nothing like that. It’s just that I don’t really know. I’m pretty sure the guy who’s been paying us isn’t our employer. He’s just a foreman or something.” The two of them paddled for almost a minute in relative silence, then Kinsman asked, “What were you hired to do? Surely you do more than simply paddle out and dump the bodies of dead slaves?” The man’s oar stopped, “How do you know about that?” Kinsman told him, “Keep paddling or I’ll get nervous and you’ll join your partners at the bottom of the boat. Now, answer my question.” The man resumed paddling, “Yeah, any time the cart fills up with bodies, we get told to take ‘em out and dump ‘em. It’s eerie rollin’ them up in canvas. It’s like they’ve been dead for weeks, all cold and grey, when they were just walkin’ around a day or two before.” Kinsman let a hint of impatience enter his voice, “I already know that you’re dumping bodies. I want to know what else you were hired to do.” The man hesitated, both in his speech and with his paddling. Kinsman looked around them and decided they’d paddled far enough, stood and stepped forward, across the man lying in the center of the boat. As the man paddling at the fore felt the boat being jostled by Kinsman’s movement, he started to turn to look behind him. The man glimpsed the blur of movement but not in time to brace for the impact of being struck by the oar. The force of the blow put him over the edge of the boat and into the water. The cold water shocked the man almost as much as the realization that he was out of the boat, and sinking below the surface. Kinsman could see the panic on the man’s face as he kicked desperately and swept his arms to propel himself toward the boat. He held out an oar for the man to grasp, “Here. I’ll pull you to the side of the boat.” The man did not hesitate to grab the oar that was being extended to him but he began cursing in the vilest of terms. As the man got near enough to grasp the side, Kinsman stepped back, “Alright. Both hands on the side of the boat. Anytime one of those hands disappears, I’ll think you’re reaching for a weapon and I’ll smack you again, push you away and watch you drown.” The man sputtered and whipped his head to one side in an effort to clear the water from his eyes, “You sonuva bitch! If you’re gonna kill me, just do it and be done with it!” Kinsman crouched slightly as the boat rocked in response to the man’s movements, “I haven’t decided whether to kill you or not. No one’s paid me to kill you or these two men. As far as I know, all three of you are still alive.” He leaned over the man in the center; the man with an arrow in his posterior, “Though this man might be drowning in the water in the bottom of the boat. Will you hold still long enough for me to check him?” Kinsman didn’t wait for a reply. He dropped the oar, reached down and pulled the man to the far side of the boat and rolled him onto his side, to help balance out the man hanging on the other edge. The man in the water was still sputtering as Kinsman picked up the oar, “You were trying to think up a lie about what you were hired for. A lie that I might believe. Have you thought of anything? Or are you prepared to tell me the truth now? You don’t even know your employer, you said so yourself. Why would you keep his secrets?” The man’s expression was one of resignation, “You’re gonna kill me anyway… I didn’t want to tell you because part of our job is to find you Guild folks and kill you.” Kinsman took a breath and let it out slowly, “Where’s the cart sit? The one that fills up with the bodies that you’ve been dumping?” The man looked incredulous. Apparently he’d already expected to be dead, “The cart? In the Ruins. North of Batter’s Field, near the Waterfront.” The questions continued, “The slaves? Why are they being brought in?” The man bobbed in the water. He spit out a mouthful and gasped, “I don’t know.” Kinsman inclined his head, “Truly? Holding onto information at this point?” The man’s voice went up an octave, “I don’t know! The slaves’re taken further into the Ruins. I don’t see ‘em again until they’re layin’ dead in the cart!” Kinsman stood and leaned in closer, “That’s fine. I really didn’t expect you to know everything. The man who pays you. What’s he look like?” The sellsword looked like he was beginning to struggle a little, “I dunno. He’s just a guy.” He kicked again and adjusted his hold of the rail, “He comes in at least once a week, sometimes twice, and he pays in gold. What do I care what he looks like?” Kinsman crouched down, “The wool liner under that armor gets heavy when it’s wet, doesn’t it? How does the man know where you’ll be? To pay you?” The man started to pull down on the boat, trying to keep himself up, “He always comes to the building we use for sleeping in. One
of the houses in the Ruins has been patched up some, and we stay in it. He comes there and pays us.” Kinsman stood back up, “And this house, it’s north of where Batter’s Field and the Waterfront districts meet, in the Ruins?” The man nodded affirmatively, “Yes! Yes. Exactly.” Kinsman looked around the boat. The other two men were beginning to make muffled noises and shift a little. Without another word, Kinsman drew a sheathed dart from the leather bracer on his wrist and stepped to the edge of the boat. He met the man’s desperate eyes as he poked the man in the hand, then stood erect and replaced the dart as he watched the man slip below the surface. He turned and checked the first man he’d shot. The arrow had entered his upper left chest, probably puncturing the lung. The man’s breathing was already labored. Kinsman pulled the arrow and the man managed a groan as he thought, “He’s unlikely to live. Chances are, he’ll have nothing to add anyway.” He gave the man a cursory search for valuables and salvage and came up with a pouch and several blades of various quality and a ring that was on so tightly he decided to just ignore it. He gave him a quick jab from the same dart and dumped him over the edge. By that time the remaining man had turned himself onto his side and was staring at him. The man spoke in a weak voice, “Well... that’s two down. I’m next, right?” Kinsman stepped to the seat that stretched across the aft of the boat and sat down, “Well, I’d say that depends…” The man struggled to bring himself up on an elbow. His movements were still disjointed and he couldn’t maintain the position long. He sagged back to the bottom of the boat, “It depends, eh? On what? Y’know, the whole time I was lying there I could hear everything you two were saying…” Kinsman nodded, “I know. Do you have anything to add?” The other man shifted to look back at the arrow, still implanted in his buttock, “You mean before you dump me over the side? I killed, or helped kill, three of your people. Does that help you make up your mind?” Kinsman leaned toward him, “Is that an attempt to provoke me?” The man cranked his head to look over the side then back at the young Assassin, “Maybe I’d just rather be dead before I hit the water.” Kinsman drew himself back to sit upright, “From the earlier conversation that you overheard. Do you have anything to add? Who is your employer? Do you know?” Then man cleared his throat, hacked up some phlegm and spit it onto the floor of the boat before he replied, “No.” Kinsman asked, “What about the slaves. How are they used? Why are they being brought in?” The man shook his head, “There’s something going on in the Ruins, but I don’t know what. And you’ve seen the bodies, right? You already knew about them. Pale, not a mark on them? I’ve heard the screams. One or two, or more… every night… there’s gotta be something there. Feeding on them somehow.” Kinsman considered what the man had told him, “It sounds like you’re almost dreading going back. Is that why you tried provoking me? To save you from going back?” The man shook his head, “Not entirely, but you’re not far off the mark. I haven’t been keeping track exactly, but I’ve helped chain up a bunch of the slaves going into the Ruins…” His speech trailed off. Kinsman was interested, “And?” The man looked him square in the eye, “And, there haven’t been as many going in lately, but they’re still coming out at the same rate. What happens when whatever-it-is runs out of slaves?” The two of them looked at each other for a few moments, then the man asked, “So, do you have more questions? Or are you gonna kill me now?” Kinsman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Maybe. Given the choice, it doesn’t sound like you’d even go back to work in the Ruins. Is that about right?” The man was now able to hold himself up on his elbow. His strength was returning. “You’re right. With those two dead, I ain’t goin’ back. The rest of ‘em will just assume I’m dead, too.” Kinsman then asked, “Where will you go? What will you do?” The man had a ready reply, “There’s always ships hiring on sellswords. I’ll just hire onto the next one goin’ out.” Kinsman considered this, “What if the next ship is from Lukasi, but flying a Caldori flag?” The man gave him a perplexed look, “What’re you talkin’ about? Lukasi ships ain’t permitted to moor in Paler- .. oh. Oh!” Kinsman nodded, “That’s right. You might try signing onto a ship and simply find yourself in shackles, chained to the floor below the deck. Then later pulled out and dragged right back to the Ruins wearing those chains.” The man reached a hand up and rubbed his head, “Damn.” Kinsman found humor in how succinctly the man had summed up the entire concept with a single word. The man asked, “What about Temidan? Kalistos?” Kinsman shrugged, “Couldn’t say. But I do know at least one ship in the bay that shouldn’t be flying the Caldori flag, but it is.” The man gave Kinsman a calculating look, “Can I ask you something?” Kinsman shrugged, “You can ask.” The man nodded, “If yer not gonna kill me, can you at least yank out this arrow?” Kinsman stood, “If I’m going to kill you, wouldn’t you rather I wait? To save you from the pain?” The man nodded, “I believe I take your point just as well as you understand mine.” The man rolled his body so he was facing away, grasped the seat at the front of the boat, clenched his jaw and raised his chin. Kinsman wondered what was going through the man’s mind at that moment, knowing that in the next moments he’d either be feeling the excruciating pain of an arrow being removed, or the whisper of a blade across his throat.
