Chương 36: 35 The Name at the Top

Jaser the Halfling paled as the announcement left my lips.

"Slavers?" he echoed.

"You can't." The other crewmates shifted to him expectantly. The sun finally pierced the clouds in full force, instantly heating the air in sticky warmth.

"Can't?" I asked, folding my arms. I flinched at the massive bruise forming on my ribs from Ukark's stub horn.

"Why not?" Jaser cast a worried glance around, looking up at his much taller fellow convicts.

"Well, because a Slavers' Guild already exists." I shrugged.

"It's a big ocean. We'll grab slaves from various coasts and ports. The Bloodwake is always looking for labor."

"No," Jaser's hands clenched as he shook his head.

"You don't understand; the Guild, it—" His teeth clenched tight as he chewed for words.

"They don't play well with others. There are no rivals for a reason." I rolled my eyes.

"Then we'll knock them down, replace them." Jaser laughed, a hollow sound that didn't suggest he found that funny.

"Knock them down? Replace them? You don't know what you're talking about."

"No," I said.

"But you do, don't you, Jaser?" The Halfling's mouth clamped shut as he considered my veiled implication. I spoke it aloud for the others to hear.

"Yes, Jaser, we chose that yard because I knew you were there. You specifically. Of all the men here, you're the only actual member of the current Slavers' Guild."

"Throw me in the ocean," the Halfling sneered.

"That's a swift mercy compared to what my boss would do if he found out I'm helping an arrogant upstart."

"Your boss?" I asked, glancing at Mordisco.

"Perhaps you can arrange for us to have a conversation. There's no reason our enterprises can't coexist." Jaser's nose wrinkled as if he caught a disgusting scent.

"No idea where he is." He snorted a laugh.

"Keep doing what you're planning, and you won't need to find him. He'll find you." I kept my face neutral. That was exactly the plan.

"Hold on," the tattooed Dwarf said, raising a hand.

"Listen, Cap'n, I like you, but you're not suggesting we encroach on existing territory, right?" He cast a wary glance at the others.

"Hate to say it, but this lot's not ready to play it with the big leagues."

"What's your name?" I asked, shifting to the Dwarf. He tugged his beard.

"Vurel. Vurel the Sweaty." Python Head snickered at that. Vurel bristled, the veins on his biceps bulging.

"Keep laughing, snake, see what happens." Othess, the cobra-head Naga-kin, put a placating hand on the much larger Python Head's arm, and Python Head relaxed. Interesting. There were sub-dynamics at play here I'd have to read into. Bruno groaned, finally sitting up on the planks, his hand going to his bloody nose. Had he been out the whole time?

"Think that was clever?" he hissed, pulling his hand back and wincing at his fingers.

"I'm not done with you—""Yes, you are, fool," Vurel growled.

"You had your chance and lost it. The kid's the Captain now." Bruno searched the faces of his fellow convicts, putting together that he had missed something, and he went silent.

"Jaser," I said, "We'll speak in private about your concerns. In the meantime—housekeeping." I pointed.

"Ukark!" The Minotaur glanced up.

"You're the boatswain, you'll oversee discipline on the ship." The bull beat his chest with a fist once.

"Mordisco." The Hobgoblin stepped forward, wedge rising in its sheath on his belt. He folded his arms, pushing his lean biceps with his fists.

"This is my first mate. A command from him is as good as an order from me. We won't tolerate insubordination on my ship. Disobey, and it's Ukark's lash." The Minotaur snorted, and a few convicts took an inadvertent step back.

"Drogo's my second." The larger Hobgoblin, now hatless, produced a set of circular, shaded spectacles and slid them on.

"Needles is my eyes and my runner," I nodded down at the Goblin.

"He's a fine sailor and demolitions expert. What questions do you have?" I scanned the crowd. The Ratkin scratched his head.

"With you and your friends in charge. How do we know you'll treat us right? We need a Quartermaster." A murmured agreement rippled across the deck. I exhaled slowly. I'd hoped to avoid this. The quartermaster—the democratically elected advocate for the crew. A foil for a captain with too much power.

"It's only fair," I said in a voice that definitely conveyed my disappointment.

"Who'll it be?" Vurel stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. Tattooed Dwarven runes marked each of his fingers. I didn't read Dwarvish; they probably said something sophisticated like lightning and thunder, or pain and pleasure. I nodded. So far, Vurel seemed to have the best head on his shoulders.

"I can work with this—" Bruno stepped forward.

"I'll be quartermaster." Jofred, the Derk-Feykin, snickered.

"You can be the bilge pumper, Bruno." Bruno's face soured, an effect enhanced by his now crooked nose.

"Othess," Python Head nominated. Othess, the cobra-headed Naga-kin, stepped forward, forked tongue licking the air. Mordisco growled.

"Enough. Let's vote before everyone nominates themselves. All in favor of appointing Vurel as your quartermaster, raise a hand." A Lizard-kin, Ukark the Minotaur, and the female Hobgoblin all raised their hands. I deflated, disappointed by that outcome. Of all my convicts, he seemed the most levelheaded.

"Bruno?" The bearded man, the only female human, the half-Orc, and the Ratkin all raised their hands. Four to three, Vurel was out.

"Othess?" He got the rest of the votes.

"Very well," I said, eyeing my new counterpart.

"Othess, you're the quartermaster." He smiled, slow and serpentine. I afforded a terminal scan on him. Best to know who I was dealing with. <<Name: Othess Balek>> <<Race: Naga-kin>> <<Class: None>> <<Rank: Escaped Convict>> <<Lvl: None>> <<Total: Not synced to Oruabora>> <<Equivalent Level: Martial-6>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 6 Will (WIS) — 7 Focus (INT) — 8 Resilience (CON) — 7 Grace (DEX) — 6 Cunning (CHA) — 9 Right off, that cunning didn't sit well with me. I'd manage. I inhaled.

"Okay, Vurel, you're master gunner. You're going to get a handle on these Scorched Rock cannons and train up the crew." I shifted my attention to the crew.

"Our escape back there. Sloppy. That doesn't happen again. Every crew member will know how to operate the cannons. Not until you get it right, but until you never get it wrong. No one's going to blow off their own arm on this ship." Bruno murmured a complaint under his breath.

"Who knows their way around a ship?" The Ratkin raised his hand, as did the bearded man and Python Head. I nodded at the Naga-kin brute.

"Name and experience."

"Call me Brace," he said through a line of razor teeth.

"Short for Embrace. Four years in the Ophidian Imperial Navy." The bearded man's hand dropped.

"Only two years trading," he murmured.

"Your name, sailor," I said. They may have been cutthroats and scum, but for the time being, they were my crew, and I would call them by name.

"Ezio, sir," the bearded man said. I nodded at the Rat-kin. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Name's Sliplock." He grinned. A wedge missing from his left ear spoke of old violence.

"Twenty years, smuggler."

"Well, Sliplock, you're training this lot in how to trim sheets, handle lines, and make sure they know their port from their starboard."

"Aye," Sliplock said. I scanned the crowd, my gaze alighting on a Gnome with a white beard poking over the chest of his grey jumpsuit.

"Perfect," I said.

"Who are you?"

"William," he said, voice shrill to my ears.

"William Manitas."

"You're in charge of the gun locker. Keep the small arms in good repair and document what's issued." William folded his arms over his beard, scandalized.

"What, just because I'm a Gnome that makes me a gunsmith?" I didn't answer. I simply stared pointedly.

"Okay, fine, I am. But that's profiling." Vurel snickered.

"Last thing. Keep my ship clean. This is our home, not a dockside brothel. Needles will put together a training and work schedule. We follow it until we have a ship full of sailors, rather than lubbers and convicts."

"A ship of slavers," Othess corrected. I sighed.

"A ship of slavers who know how to sail."

"About that," a Fowlkin stepped forward, red wings folded tight to his back through slits in his jumpsuit. His rooster's comb flopped over to the left side of his head.

"I'm Chuck. I won't be a slaver." Othess sneered.

"Don't have the guts, chicken?" Chuck turned to him, staring down his beak at the serpent.

"I was in confinement, yes. I made mistakes. But I'm not a monster." Monster. Nahla's words whispered in my ear, and the spot on my brow where she'd kissed me tingled. In an instant, the rooster Fowlkin became my most trusted crewmate. Isolated in these waters with other criminals, he could have remained silent.

"Me, neither," a Feykin man said, wringing his hands and glancing around.

"I'm an accountant, not a pirate. I was serving time for fraud, not violence!" I stepped forward to the two most redeemable members of my gang. The only two with a scrap of honor, and I had to condemn them for it. My voice lowered.

"No free rides. You will obey my orders, or you will become stock." The Feykin whimpered and stepped back in line. Chuck didn't flinch. Straight-backed, he raised his hands before him, inviting shackles. I scoffed, my chest filling with warmth that I quickly had to drown with poison.

"So be it. Boys." Ukark slapped a heavy hand on the Fowlkin's shoulder and forced him down to one knee. Brace came up on the other side, scaled hand securing the other shoulder. Chuck's eyes met my gaze, defiant and proud, and I swallowed.

"Bring up the other specimens," I ordered.

"I think it's time to take inventory." I found Othess watching me again. I hoped I had passed the test for the others, but for my new quartermaster, the scrutiny had just begun. The men dragged the prisoners up next. A weight lifted as Ingred, Bianca, and Bebi appeared in the hatch—until I caught Bebi's eyes. I wasn't so sure he was pretending as he snarled and snapped. Ezio cuffed him, and the Coredwarf ginned back through a split lip.

"Soft hands, girlie. Careful, you might break a nail." Ezio's face soured.

"What is that?" I mused, stepping up.

"Like a Dwarf mixed with a Derk."

"He's no Derk," Jofred sneered.

"This is one of those Dwarves touched by elemental fire."

"How exotic," I said appraisingly.

"He'll fetch a good price from the right buyer." The cabin boy and the vendor woman went to their knees beside my friends, and my gut tightened. Very real tears slicked their faces as they refused to make eye contact. I opened my message terminal and sent a group message to the girls. Now that they were directly under the sky, they'd be able to access the system. <<Tony: How are you doing? >> <<Ingred: It's cramped in the brig, you have a good hold on this lot? >> <<Bianca: I'm good.

I'm worried about the woman and the boy. >> She subtly glanced toward the civilians. I counted my three, the two civilians, and now Chuck. Six slaves in under a day.

"How many more do you think we can fit below?"

"Depends on how full you want to pack the hold," Othess said.

"Two hundred."

"No," Jaser cut in.

"You're not accounting for diminishing returns. Pack them too tightly, and they'll fester. Disease and infection will wipe the lot out, maybe even spread to the crew."

"Well," I flashed a grin at the Halfling.

"Look at our residential expert being helpful." Jaser scoffed.

"You amateurs really think you have a chance standing up to him?"

"Stand up to who?" I asked.

"Does this terrifying boss of yours have a name?" Jaser's mouth clamped shut, and he offered no response. I sent another message, trying to juggle two conversations at once. <<Tony: I've got a good enough handle for now. Need to figure out next steps. >> <<Bianca: Who's the rooster? >> <<Tony: The only scumbag in the lot that might have a shred of humanity still. He refused to work as a slave. >>"What are you doing?" Othess asked. I glanced up, dropping my terminal.

"Huh?"

"Do you have something in your eye? What are you looking at?" My throat went dry—perceptive little snake. I cleared my throat.

"Nothing." I didn't reconnect to the HUD. The risk was too great in front of these others.

"Take them back to the brig," I ordered, and the men dragged the prisoners away. I learned some creative new vocabulary as Bebi's voice went muted below. I inhaled.

"So, Jaser. How many would you fit in here?" The Halfling folded his arms, frowning.

"Come now, if you're stuck on my boat, may as well do it right."

"He won't take kindly to me helping an ambitious child!"

"He who?" I grumbled.

"It's not a name you want to know," Jaser said, voice going flat.

"Once you learn it, you're in; there's no going back."

"So dramatic," I said, smirking at Vurel.

"Fine, I'll make you a deal. Help us out, get us started in the right direction, and you're free to go as soon as we make the next port." Jaser chewed on that for a minute, then tossed his hands.

"Fine, whatever gets me away from your suicide crew the fastest." My eye twitched. At least now he was talking.

"First, your hold isn't outfitted to hold livestock. The brig's tiny; it's not ventilated for that many bodies."

"Yes," I rubbed my chin.

"We'll need to build pens."

"You got that much lumber sitting around?" Jaser asked, shaking his head.

"No, shackle lines are your most economical option." The skin on my arms and jaw started to itch. I exhaled, slow and controlled, trying not to allow my Apex Wrath buff to trigger. I hadn't topped up on my mutagens. If the rashes came, they'd stay for the foreseeable future. I pinched my lower lip.

"Shackles, yes. Where's the nearest place we can resupply?"

"The Drift," Sliplock offered, his rat tail swishing. Jaser tensed.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, hiding an obvious lie behind a smile. Othess's slitted eyes narrowed. So—I wasn't the only one who marked the deception.

"How far to Drift Port?" I asked. Sliplock's face scrunched as he considered.

"I'll need to consult the charts and confirm our course. Also, it's complicated; it moves."

"It moves?" Bruno said, a sharp purple line had freshly formed across the bridge of his nose.

"How does a place move?"

"The drift is a network of shoals," I explained.

"There's a settlement there, built on stilts, but as the tide shifts, the residents move."

"Sandbar nomads," Sliplock agreed. I turned to Mordisco.

"Once we find the Drift, we'll just follow it, and eventually we'll find the settlement."

"They'll be able to supply the chains?" Mordisco asked.

"I seriously doubt they're forging steel from the sand."

"It's a pirate port," Brace hissed through python teeth.

"Heavy trade. From Bloodwake ships, or Pirates, you'll find your chains." I hummed, as if contemplating.

"Yes, to Drift Port to resupply, then we need to collect our first stock." My gaze shifted to Jaser as I recalled Barkley's story. Perhaps I could fish for more information. I baited the hook.

"I think we should go to Faerie Rock first; we'll load up on Gnomes and Feykin." The slaver's face contorted in scandalized indignation.

"Amateur!" he hissed.

"What?" I asked.

"No, Gnomes. Never Gnomes."

"Why not?" Jaser leered.

"You want to sail to your death, kid? The Guild's lost three ships already. There's something new in these waters. It destroys ships that carry Gnome cargo. It devours them." William fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Um, am I going to be a problem?"

"Not Gnomish sailors," Jaser waved a dismissive hand.

"Gnomish prisoners. They say it sees them as an offering, cracking ships like an egg to get to the yolk inside."

"Cracking ships?" I asked, feigning surprise.

"The kraken?"

"No, it's not Tethyra," Jaser said.

"A floating mountain of scales. Bright as polished brass." Another bead on our mysterious new titan.

"You say it eats the Gnomes?" I asked. That was new. We still had no idea what the brass turtle did with the Gnomes it took.

"Yeah. We've never recovered any Gnomish bodies," Jaser said.

"No Gnomes then," I said.

"We could raid a Fey settlement."

"Then you're a fool twice over. Faerie Rock is a high-risk investment," Jaser explained as if he was dumbing something down for children.

"The laws of space don't work properly there. If you lose sight of the shoreline, the island draws you in and won't spit you out unless something powerful wills it."

"Really?" None of that was new to me. With perhaps the exception of Drake, Faerie Rock scared me the most.

"Prime Rock," Othess said, voice smooth and serpentine.

"Lizard-kin are primitive and easily rounded up. The Ophidian Empire has long leveraged them for labor." Across the deck, the Lizard-kin hissed. Clawed fists tightening.

"What?" Othess shrugged.

"They're tribal. No central power. Soft targets. Strong workers." I shifted to the Lizard-kin convict. His frame stretched wider and fuller than even Brace's, and only a head shorter than Ukark the Minotaur.

"Your name, sailor," I said.

"Flast," he hissed, voice raspy.

"Would you take any objection to trafficking your own?" His chest deepened.

"So long as they are Gek, Guan, or Melion. I would bring honor to my people by claiming them."

"See," Othess grinned.

"They've been enslaving their own for as long as the Empire has."

"It's decided, from the Drift we sail for Prime Rock," I said, still patching this plan together as I went. How to get the guild's attention?

"You'll drop me off at the Drift first, right?" Jaser clarified.

"I don't want to be anywhere near your ship once he learns you're filling this ship with slaves."

"I swear it's like you're making up this boogie man," I sighed.

"Who is it, really? The ghost of Madam Thornsong returned?" Jaser flinched at the name, then glared my way.

"That's not it," Mordisco contradicted.

"I think it's not a person at all, but a book." My brow rose. Clever bait.

"A book?" I frowned.

"How can a book run a Guild? Is it somehow a sentient tome?"

"That's the genius; it's a code, an equation," Mordisco explained, leaning into the story with convincing proficiency.

"Everything would be decentralized. A mysterious leader because there is no leader."

"Fools!" Jaser hissed, face reddening.

"There is a leader. I've met him."

"Funny," I said.

"Every version of your story ends with you jumping ship early when everyone else is doing their part."

"Fine!" the slaver snapped, then he stopped, Adam's apple bobbing.

"You want to know," he whispered.

"His name's Thaddius Calder." Color bled from the Halfling's face as soon as the words left his lips.

"I, uh, shouldn't have said that." Without telegraphing with my eyes, I opened a direct link to the High Family intel line. <<Tony: We have a name. Thaddius Calder. >> <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 01: 02: 14: 06: 50>>