18
I stayed tied to the pole for three days. Three days of humiliation where Amlach spoon-fed me fish slop, made me drink stale water, and put the bucket for excrement between my legs, turning away while I relieved myself, silently crying from shame.
Being still chained, however, was a good thing. It meant that neither the captain nor his crew knew elves would lose their supernatural abilities once they left the Lands of the East.
It meant they still feared me.
And perhaps I could use it to our advantage.
* * *
A sudden thud on the ceiling jolted me awake. I lifted my head so quickly that a sharp pain shot through the back of my neck, and I held my breath to stifle any sound of discomfort that might escape my mouth.
“You sure have slept like a log, Elf.”
My gaze shifted toward Amlach, leaning against the bulkhead with his usual smug grin.
“I feel like I never really slept before,” I confessed. And was it normal for me to feel even more tired than before?
“You even snored,” Amlach added.
I glared at him. Elves did not snore, and the fear that I might have done it made my ear tips catch on fire.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul,” Amlach said with a smirk, then winked at me.
Another dull thud drew my attention back to the ceiling. I seemed to hear a great bustle above us, accompanied by a jumble of baritone voices. I also seemed to notice that the ship’s swinging was minimal.
We had stopped.
“How long have we made landfall?” I asked.
“A few minutes,” Amlach answered.
My nostrils flared as I stared at the beams with a somber and worried expression.
“Hey.” Amlach nudged my leg with his foot, catching my attention. “It’ll be all right.”
I watched him out of the corner of my eye. If he, too, was in apprehension, he did not show it. “We must make a plan to escape.”
“We will,” he agreed in a suddenly forward-looking tone. “But we must not act in haste.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I hissed.
He gave me an eloquent stare and started to reply, but just then the door opened. The second-in-command ducked in, his arm held up by a band tied around his neck.
“On your feet, folks!” he said so loud that the frightened children began to cry. “It’s time to welcome your new lives with open arms.”
Three other men with wooden clubs entered and, passing around a jingling bunch of keys, began to unlock the cells. I noticed that one of them carried two pairs of heavy chain-linked shackles on his shoulder.
“You can thank us when our paths cross again,” the second-in-command added.
Why would these people thank them? They had been ripped from their homes and condemned to a life of slavery in a foreign land.
I was about to growl that exact thought at the captain’s right-hand man, standing up on my sore legs. However, Amlach rose with a cat-like quickness and stood so close to me that his chest pressed against my upper arm.
“ Easy, Nauriel,” he whispered in my ear.
I glowered at him, and he glanced back at me with an intimidating stare.
Our cell was the last to be unlocked. The three men approached us, smelling as bad as a dunghill. The one carrying the shackles stood behind me, while the other two lifted their sticks, prepared to strike me at the slightest movement.
“Those are unnecessary, my friends,” Amlach said with a good-natured smile. He placed one hand on my shoulder. “The elf will behave.”
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m a dog,” I hissed at him as I was released and then shackled in the new irons, this time with my arms in front.
“And you don’t look at them as if you want to send them to the other world,” Amlach retorted with a fake smile as he offered his wrists to the pirate.
Chained together, we left our cell and joined the other prisoners. With the young second-in-command leading, we lined up to climb the two stair ramps to the deck. Small lanterns barely lit the steps, and the three men behind Amlach threatened to beat anyone who stumbled.
After three days, I was finally back in the sunlight. I turned my face toward the sun’s rays, which started out warm but quickly turned scorching. I took a deep breath of fresh air, only to grimace as the strong smell of fish and spices invaded my nose.
“Good morning, my guests, and welcome to Rubra, the Red City,” came the captain’s snarled voice from the quarterdeck.
He took off his new three-cornered hat—much less worn out than the one he had when we first met—and greeted us with an elegant, sweeping arm gesture.
“I hope you are ready for the long morning ahead.”
He descended onto the deck with a smug look, wearing a dark blue redingote with ivory stitching and gold buttons, a white plastron, and black trousers tucked into shiny boots. The bandana was gone, and his brown hair fell over his shoulders in soft waves.
He had definitely cleaned himself up, as had his second-in-command. When he stood before me, I could not help but notice the excessive amount of woody perfume that enveloped him.
“Would you be so kind as to cover your ears, my lady?” He gave me a twisted grin, his breath faintly smelling of firewater. “I don’t want to cause a stir far too early.”
I gazed at him with such a murderous look that he grew uncomfortable, stiffening and shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
I felt Amlach’s elbow brush against mine.
Then, with a slight exhale through my nose, I let the strands of hair behind my ears fall back to the sides of my face, effectively hiding my true nature.
The captain gave me a nervous smile, then continued the inspection of the other prisoners. It was clear that he was anxious about my actions once we disembarked.
Except I felt as heavy as a boulder, as if I had dozens of weights tied to my body.
“Shall we go, folks?” the captain exclaimed cheerfully, going down the gangway first.
His right-hand man signaled for us to follow him. Amlach and I stayed behind the family with children, and the three pirates with clubs brought up the rear.
Thankfully, despite the barrels already unloaded along the edges, the long pier was wide enough for Amlach and me to walk side by side without getting the chain connecting our shackles in our way.
Several sailors greeted the captain from the railings of the moored ships. They called him Captain Escrain, and he seemed to enjoy a remarkable reputation.
The harbor was a chaotic set of stalls where each crew sold crates of fresh seafood, sacks of wheat and spices, barrels of foreign drinks, and collections of gems and corals.
Inns with available accommodation were already full of drunken patrons who groped women in outrageous clothes that put on full display their generous breasts and their shapely thighs.
Other rooms were used as a warehouse where the various crews were cramming their load.
“Always the usual, I see, Escrain,” a man in black bellowed, sitting at the table of a pub with a prostitute on his knees.
Beneath his long, thick black beard with small braids on either side of his mouth, his skin appeared flabby and tanned from the sun.
The bags under his sunken eyes were particularly noticeable as he brought a lit match to the cigar that hung from his lips.
“The day will come when the Masters will no longer know what to do with your sleazy goods.”
Escrain did not even bother to slow down as he replied aloud to overcome the harbor noise. “But not today, Calb. I can guarantee that.”
“Eshane passed by with a lovely group of pretty dollfaces earlier,” spoke a young pirate with a beer mug on the threshold of another inn ahead. “Now, that’s a booty.”
“Good for him,” Escrain replied serenely. He knew that I was worth more than anything those yokels trade.
“Your business in Rubra is winding down, Escrain,” the black-bearded pirate yelled after him.
“Or perhaps it’s just about to increase, my dear old friend,” Escrain laughed.