How long had Dago been in the dark? He had lost track. He had his own little room, past all of the bunk beds in this cabin. It was likely just a closet, and he was chained to the bars of the porthole. They let him walk around the full cabin once in a while, when all of the gang’s fighters had cleared out of there. His leg was healing, slowly but surely. He was weak still, and he limped, even when he put weight on the splint in his leg.
Miss Puzzle had visited him twice, and both times he had repeated, with varying words, that he’d rather they all die in Yarik than survive, just to spite her. Once, she had put her little knife to his throat, and he had spat on her, a big glob of saliva.
But she hadn’t killed him then.
He leaned against the wooden wall, feeling the rise and fall of the waves. They couldn’t have been two days out from the river, could they? Were they even on the ocean yet, or still in Aka Bay? “We’ll die in Yarik,” he said, quietly. The sewers were full of dead bodies, the refuse of the dark ones who lived behind the Weeping Doors. It would be easy to get lost in there. Hopefully, if they died there… Dago’s heart stopped at the thought. “Hopefully, their sorcerers will not find us in the sewers…” He almost cried, at the terror of it all. He had escaped there once, he was not certain he could bear to do it again.
And then his door opened once more. This time, it was Miss Puzzle, Avice, and a woman with bronze skin, a few wrinkles and a long green dress. Dago stood up, leaning on his crutch. His chain left him enough room to move around the entire room—it was a tiny space. His neck was itchy and inflamed from the metal collar he wore, but he did not rush them. Avice had his little black crossbow and the same round black mask. The mask had a little smirk cut into it, under two nose holes.
“Good morning, Dago,” Miss Puzzle said.
“Is it morning?” Dago asked. He could see nothing through the open doorway except the bunk beds of the warriors. A few of them were filled by men who were listening to their the conversation.
“We stopped in Delltown last night,” their leader said. “I thought you might need some more incentive.”
“What are you talking about?” Dago asked. He leaned against the wall.
Miss Puzzle looked at the other woman. “Her name is Sirth. She was a fisher.”
Dago looked at the woman’s arms. She had a few bruises, and a lot of calluses. “A slave?” If she had purchased a slave to seduce Dago, she could have chosen better.
“No. Not in Delltown,” Miss Puzzle said. She looked at the woman named Sirth, but got no response. The woman simply kept her eyes down. She had some bruises on her cheek. It looked as though she might have been hit by one of the men.
Dago shrugged. “How is this supposed to… persuade me?”
“She’s to share your room, until we reach our destination,” Miss Puzzle said. “How she is treated on the journey is entirely up to you. I could care less. How she is treated after our mission… well, that is up to me.” She smiled, held one hand out to Dago, taunting him to bite at her. She had clean olive skin, still, not stained by sweat.
Dago chuckled, but he was trying to think through her manipulations. He still smirked, though his spirits were sinking quickly. “Curse you, puzzle me this, puzzle me that. Go jump off into the sea. Curse you and all your offspring.”
“I’ve no offspring at all, Dago,” Miss Puzzle said. “Avice, let’s go.”
“Miss,” said the masked man. They began to withdraw, Avice backing up, while his superior turned away.
“What makes you think I care one bit about this… woman?” Dago shouted.
Miss Puzzle didn’t even bother to look back at him. She shrugged her thin arms and said, “Nothing. Kill her if you want. Wasn’t that much effort to give this a try…”
Then the door slammed closed, leaving Dago alone with his visitor.
“They’re a bunch of devils,” Dago said, panting. He rose from the wall and began to pace. “They belong where we’re going. Damn them. They belong there!”
The woman in the green dress cowered in the corner. “A—”
“What?”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
Dago lowered his voice. “What?”
“I was just going to ask, ‘are you going to kill me’?” the woman said. She didn’t look at Dago. She looked at some spot on the floor, as though she had marked it with a little ‘x’. It was all wooden planks, smoothed by weather and wear, and the treads of Dago’s shoes.
“What’s your name?” Dago asked.
“Sirth,” she said, quietly, and glanced up at him.
Dago raised his hand below the angle of his face, indicating she shouldn’t look away. “Sirth, I won’t touch you. I can’t speak for them… But I don’t kill unarmed people.”
Sirth exhaled—she’d been holding her breath—and then began to breath heavily. She was trembling. “Why is this happening? I was just checking the traps, that’s all. And four men grabbed me. One hit me. Why is this…. what do they want from me?”
“Nothing,” Dago said. “They think I will act differently. That I’ll get to know you or something, and that’ll change how I act when they threaten you.”
“Will you?”
Dago sat down and put his head against the boards of the wall. “Get some rest, Sirth,” he said. “It must have been a long night.”
She lifted the hem of her dress enough to settle on her knees, though she was still on the other side of the room from her. She leaned her sweaty head back against the wood, as he had done. But her eyes were still open, and she was staring at him. After a moment, he raised his hands.
“What?” he asked, gruffly.
“Please don’t let them hurt me. Do whatever they want. Please. I have a son at home, and a husband. My mother is fif—”
“Enough!” Dago barked. He squeezed his eyes closed. Damn Miss Puzzle, he thought to himself. “I said, ‘get some rest.’ And don’t open your mouth, please.”
Long after she had dozed off, Dago stared at the back of his eyelids. He quietly hit his head off the wood behind it. What was the way out? He had to get them to kill him first. Then they’d have no reason to harm Sirth—no! he told himself. Dago works for coin, not for fun feelings. He trembled with anger, and forced his eyes open. He stared at Sirth for a long moment. Dago won’t die for someone else, not for free, he told himself. Jobless Dago didn’t make dramatic action. Jobless Dago didn’t do anything, but drink, gamble, and sleep, and this was no exception.