Captain Woodsword stared at the captain of Redra’s vessel, unmoving as two others from the Ghost dismounted the plank. They stalked around the boat, opening containers, kicking debris out of the way, and one pulled up the bow hatch, which led to a small storage crawlspace running beneath the main deck. He crawled into the hatch without hesitation, vanishing below.
“As you can see, we have nothing on us. Never mind anything worth taking, we have nothing at all save grain,” the captain said, still locked in a staring match with Woodsword.
Woodsword scoffed, breaking their eye contact and surveying Redra’s group. Her eyes stopped at Esme, who stared back with a small smile. She moved on after only a few seconds, obviously noting Wynne’s hand resting on her sword as she studied each of them. Eventually, her eyes stopped on Redra.
“Passengers?” she asked, her voice deeper than expected, but with an airy quality, like the sound of a gentle ocean breeze through holes in a ship’s hull.
“Yes, we chartered passage to Ashreach,” Redra answered, maintaining the stare.
While intimidating, Woodsword’s gaze was something Redra had been trained her whole life to stand firm against. There were many intimidating military figures and nobles in Sardvend, and a princess could not wither under their scrutiny.
“Straight is the safest passage,” Woodsword said, a terse woman of business, clearly.
“Why ain’t you usin’ it, then?” Esme called, still lounging atop her barrel.
Woodsword glanced at her before returning her attention to Redra.
“Nobles of some sort, looks like. That you’ve thrown yourselves in with this lot,” she said, motioning toward the three-man crew with her head, “doesn’t speak well of you.”
“Is a pirate tryin’ to take the moral high ground? That’s a new one,” Esme chuckled.
Woodsword glanced at her again, then back at Redra and Wynne.
“A young knight, perhaps a personal retainer, and an archmage as your escorts. You must be well-placed,” she said.
Redra resisted the urge to flinch, instead returning a steady gaze.
“I would warn you,” Woodsword said, shifting her eyes once again to Esme, “you would not be the first archmage I’ve killed, and far from the strongest.”
“Care to test it?” Esme replied, sitting forward with a wild look in her eyes, as if craving a fight.
Redra watched sparks fly from the two’s glares, but they were thankfully interrupted by one of Woodsword’s crew. She had run off to inspect the cabin, and she returned now with a small scroll in her hand. She presented it to Woodsword, who seemed to skim its contents before returning it and motioning across the plank.
The woman mounted and ran across it, heading below deck on the Ghost.
“I do not know what your quarrel with these men is, but we are mere travelers. We seek only passage to Ashreach, nothing more. We are uninvolved in any business dealings or other activities,” Redra said, drawing Woodsword’s attention back to her.
“And what ‘business’ do you think these three are doing?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We met them as we were walking the coast, attempting to charter passage. Theirs was the only ship we found, so it is with whom we signed on,” Redra explained, uneasy.
Woodsword held her stare for several long moments before some thumping across the plank broke their match. The woman from before returned with a thick book bound in some sort of strange, pale leather, which she handed to Woodsword, along with the scroll.
Woodsword hefted the book, finally disembarking the plank and standing aboard the ship fully. She placed the book on the gunwale with one hand and held the scroll open in the other, seeming to cross-reference what was written in the scroll with what was in her book.
“Well, this is the sloppiest work I’ve seen in a while,” she declared, handing the open book to the woman and holding the scroll before her.
“Cargo manifest lists a quarter of grain on departure, trading for a couple sacks of wool,” she said, glancing over the scroll at the captain and his men. “Really? You three are beating yourselves senseless undermanning this vessel, and evading local authorities, despite the much shorter trip across the Straight, for such a modest profit?”
The captain shrugged, though Redra thought the motion forced, his shoulders too tense to complete the motion naturally.
“Not all of us have the luxury of waiting for Sardvend to clear our passage. If we do not trade, our families do not eat,” he explained.
“Huh,” she snorted, derisive.
A thunk at the bow shifted attention there, where the man who had descended into the hatch before was now returning. He dragged a large sack of grain with one hand and carried a smaller, but still large, sack in his other, which jingled with every step he took.
Woodsword immediately tore the grain sack open, digging through it until several metal collars fell out, clanging to the ground. Redra recognized the slave collars immediately, and by the pallor of the three men’s faces, she knew they did, too.
Woodsword then took the other sack, dumping out a wealth of coins, which clinked as they hit the deck and the collars now resting on it.
“Hidden within a false bottom in the hold,” Woodsword’s crewman indicated.
“Quite a bit of coin to carry if you’re aiming to trade the grain,” she remarked.
The three men were deathly silent, and Redra thought they looked as if they had collectively eaten something sour, their lips thin lines, as if they were forcing their mouths closed to prevent any information from leaking.
“No one wants to talk?” Woodsword growled.
When none responded, she waved behind her, and several people crossed over from the Ghost, scurrying toward the side of the boat to mess with the ropes securing a small dinghy to the side.
“Let me tell you what I think is happening,” Woodsword said. “Looks to me like you’re so short-staffed because you’re planning to have ‘help’ on the return journey.”
She kicked one of the slave collars as she said this, sending it careening off into the deep blue surrounding them with a small kerplunk.
“Now, Sardvend, kingdom of savages it is, wouldn’t have a problem if all you were doing was buying slaves. So, why are you avoiding the Straight?” she asked, crouching down and pulling a handful of grain from the sack, which spilled between her fingers.
“Grain is a pretty convenient material for hiding things, isn’t it? Could put nearly anything in this sack, surround it with grain, and it’s basically gone, especially if what you’re hiding is small and fine, like a powder,” she said, glancing up at the captain.
Redra saw the captain’s throat apple dip. It was so obvious that she swore she could hear the gulp.
“Matter of fact, if it were a powder you were trying to hide, it’d be plain simple to sift it out of the grain once you get back to land. Could it be that you’re buying your dirt from the same hand that’s giving you your slaves?
“Aiming to buy wool and return with a couple of sacks of unsold grain? A couple of precautions in case you’re intercepted by a Sardvend ship, either there or back?” she finished, standing and staring at the captain.
The captain and his men stood silently, scarcely seeming even to breathe.
“Ma’am,” called one of Woodsword’s crew, holding a rope lashed to the dinghy.
“Right. Passengers to the rowboat,” she said, waving Redra and her group dismissively.
Redra glanced between her and the boat, confused. Eventually, realization dawned on her, and she shook her head.
“Surely you do not expect us to take this tiny boat all the way to Ashreach? We cannot be more than halfway!” she pleaded.
“Well, you could stay here, if you want, but I promise you’ll get there faster in it than this ship,” Woodsword said, a chilling smile on her face. “‘Sides, any archmage worth their salt should be able to make it in a few hours.”
Esme merely chuckled, heading for the dinghy. Redra watched her go for a few seconds before, with a resigned sigh, she followed. The three boarded the boat, and the crew lowered it down slowly until it bobbed in the, thankfully, relatively calm water.
“Hear this, noble,” Woodsword called, placing her foot on the gunwale and staring down. “There is no slavery or drug trade on the Argent Sea, not while we sail her.”
With a wave of Woodsword’s hand, the rowboat shot across the water. Redra gasped and gripped the bench tightly with both hands as the vessel skipped across the water like a stone. It slowed after only seconds, but they had gained hundreds of feet of distance from their former transport.
Redra stared at the boat behind them for a while before affixing her gaze on Esme, who stared back with a small smile.
“Are you asking for my help? Officially? Would be no trouble to propel us,” she said, her grin widening.
Redra sighed, shaking her head. She picked up an oar and began rowing on one side, Wynne matching her pace on the other. Wynne was quiet, rowing with gusto, though that she had something she wanted to say was written plainly on her face.
“I said from the beginning that this was a bad—” she started.
“Just row, Wynne,” Redra grunted.
Behind them, a plume of smoke rose to the sky, the boat in the distance sinking beneath the waves, extinguishing the raging inferno engulfing the deck.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter