Dago was surprised that Miss Puzzle was accompanying them. Escorted from his cell, at last, he entered a large chamber in the cellar of a city’s building. His arm was bound stiffly at his side until the bones healed; similarly, his leg was in a splint and a single crutch supported his weight at his armpit. He could hear merchants calling their prices and smiths hammering their anvils, and through the windows, he could see feet at street level. He thought, for a moment, about calling for help, but decided he’d likely be dead long before any help got here.
The woman in charge was in the cellar along with close to twenty men. Instead of a dress, she had long black leggings and a dark leather jerkin on. She still wore jewelry, a necklace around her neck and hanging gold strings from each ear. “Welcome, Dago. Men, welcome him.”
There was a scattered mumbling around the room, the most pitiful welcome Dago had ever received.
“This is Avice,” Miss Puzzle told him, and a man with a circular black mask completely covering his face stepped forward. The man held a compact crossbow in one hand, the sort these northerners liked because there were fewer trees in the way. “He’ll put an arrow in the back of your head if you cross us.”
“Back of my head?” Dago asked. “He’ll never see that. I’ll be facing him, if I ever cross you.”
The room remained full of mutterings, but Avice spoke out, over it all. “You’re right, Miss. He’s got balls.” They all laughed at that. Despite their humour, Avice’s eyes peered out of the mask like tiny beads of ice.
Miss Puzzle smiled, as their humour faded. “You’ll behave, won’t you, Dago? We’re going up to the ship now, and you won’t cause a fuss in the streets.”
“Of course not,” Dago said. Unless an opportunity presented itself. He refused to die here.
Most of the men seemed used to their mistress’s attendance. They referred to her as miss, and no ill speak was heard. If Dago had his way, she’d be bound and ordered about, not giving orders to men who could cut her up to pieces. A few of them shouldered large packs of supplies, and two bore a chest between them.
Then, without another word, Miss Puzzle led the way out of the cellar. Avice walked behind Dago, close enough for his breath to be heard, heating the inside of his black mask. He was surprised to see that the entire complex was beneath that very same barroom outside of which he had been captured. The room was abandoned now, but its doors were still set ajar; Dago realized now that the slums of Ellakar knew to give this place a wide berth. It was a gang house, of the dangerous variety.
The troop of men formed two lines. At Dago’s right was a man he had not been introduced to, dressed in the same dark armaments. He had olive skin, shaved clean, with not a drop of sweat. Dago’s black skin bubbled with sweat, and it wasn’t from the sun. He felt the face of a crossbow pressed into the nook of his back, and Avice’s breathing, in and out, in and out.
The civilians in the streets gave them a wide berth. No beggars asked this group for coins, and the guards turned the other way. If Dago were to run, they’d be as likely to stop him as aid him. Who am I fooling? he asked himself. He was hobbling along on a crutch. Once he boarded this ship of theirs, there’d be no escape until they landed on the Torn Shore, and he didn’t have a damn choice. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t call for help.
So board it he did.
Ellakar was built on the banks of Bannblood Lake, linked to Aka Bay by a short river. The Lake was full of crystal clear water, and the walls of the city reflected off the water to give it a white hue. Upon those white tides, drifted the Steadfast Star, a two-mast schooner with dark red and orange sails and two cabins: one fore and one aft. As the group approached, a long plank was dropped down, followed by another further down the ship.
Out onto the dock marched the troop, with Miss Puzzle in the lead. She didn’t need to ask the sailors and labourers in the harbour to move; they were long gone by the time her black boots trod the wooden planks of the wharf. Avice muttered, “There she is. The same beauty.” Dago wasn’t certain if he referred to the ship or not.
It was a little tricky for the sellsword to maneuver his way onto the ship. With his crutch and healing leg, he had to walk almost sideways, shifting step by step up the plank of wood until he stood on the deck of the Steadfast Star.
And there, upon the deck, speaking with a man whom Dago had to assume was the Captain, was Lord Shea. The Lord of Ellakar was one of six such men. With spread legs, folded boots, and a thin stoat robe, he looked down his nose at the ship’s Captain. He had a full head of hair, despite the onset balding in the front of his scalp. He glanced up to give Dago the same bored glance he gave all of the arriving soldiers, but then his eyes widened.
“Ah, mercenary. Um… Malzo, that was your name, yes?” Shea asked. He seemed uncomfortable, as though he very much did not want to be seen here, to be revealed as the cause of Dago’s arrival in the city and subsequent capture.
“Still is my name,” Dago said.
Shea chuckled. “Like your name matters anymore…”
“Keep moving!” Avice barked, and shoved Dago forward with the crossbow. With the crutch, the sellsword stumbled, barely keeping his feet. He cursed beneath his breath and kept moving. Shea! He glanced back over his shoulder to see the lord hand the Captain a hefty pouch of coin or jewels, shake his hand, and stride toward the plank. “Move,” Avice growled.
On the way to the prow cabin, they passed Miss Puzzle, who was speaking with the First Mate. Dago spared her no words. They wouldn’t hurt him now. Not badly. They needed him to heal enough to get them into that living hell that was Yarik. “The whole thing was a set up? You’ve been working with Shea from the start?”
Miss Puzzle chuckled. She stepped toward him, the sway of the boat giving her no difficulty. “Of course not,” she said, raising a hand to stall Avice’s annoyance. “I paid Shea to give you the job you completed a week ago. The plan was to find you on the streets of course.”
“And I strolled right into your house,” Dago asked. “Someone ought to put a sign up or something. You people are as bad as Yarik aren’t you? When you’re done with me, are you gonna chop me up and sell me like they do?”
“Oh, we might,” Miss Puzzle sneered. “If you keep it up.”
“I hope we all die behind the Weeping Doors, you little cu—”
Avice finally hit him in the head, and he was dragged, crutch trailing across the smooth wooden deck to the cabin door. The sun disappeared, and Dago stopped trying to struggle against his captors. He was surprised they didn’t just kill him; a guide who wanted everyone to perish was no fit guide at all.
Later, Dago heard the shouts of the Star’s crew, and felt the ship drift away from the edge. He wasn’t Jobless Dago anymore, but he certain wasn’t Hired. He was going to die soon. Whether it was during their voyage, or upon their arrival, or in those blood sewers outside Yarik, or in the city of hell itself… the circumstances were of little consequence. He felt the turn of the waves beneath the ship and waited for the end.