Chapter 0 - The Wives' Guild

The Wives’ Guild
Bromm V
 
              Nightfall came slowly to the little harbor of Sanctum Port. The decline of the sun set the long shadows of ships’ masts stretching out over the rooftops like the fingers of some great hand. Despite the port’s small size, its harbor was crowded with nearly a hundred ships, from small fishing schooners to massive fluyts plying the northern trade routes. A fortune in goods flowed through the port each year, much of it obtained by trade rather than piracy. But violence was never far from Sanctum Port, and the lord’s palace served as a reminder of that fact, situated as it was inside the massive, sunbleached skull of a long-dead giant overlooking the harbor from a nearby hilltop.
              On this night, the sailor Bromm found himself drinking with his friends in a dockside tavern called the Seagull. He was a tall and broad-shouldered young man with a black beard and green eyes. He wore a black coat about him, with a wide baldric of shark leather over his shoulder. On the table, next to several empty flagons, was his three-cornered red hat.
              “One last round!” he cried to the delight of his friends, “to toast the end of our employment on one ship, and to toast our future employment aboard another!”  
              “Aye!” cried Tahavi, banging his olive-skinned fist on the wooden table. He threw a handful of copper coins onto the table and summoned the barmaid. “Another round for us, woman!”
              She sighed and gathered up the coins before moving away.
              “They are always so sad to take our money,” Imre remarked as he drained his flagon and slid it across the table to join the others. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were tired of us.”
              “Tired of us drinking,” Bromm said, too loudly. He took a moment to calm himself before continuing. “But we’re right to be happy. We are well rid of that ship, and may Tarnilaen take them all!”
              “Aye!” Tahavi cried again and slammed his fist down again. One of the clamshells they had drained earlier rattled off the table and onto the floor. Tahavi reached for it and nearly fell from his chair.
              “I hope Sahat finds us a better one,” Bromm said to no one in particular. “I hope it’s a ship going somewhere exotic.”
              “Like to Leiyan, to buy indigo spice!” Imre exclaimed. He brushed his dark hair back from his face and smiled with wonder. His fair cheeks were turning red as he drank, but he held his drink better than the other two.
              “Or to search for the Lost City of Wonders!” Bromm cried in equal excitement.
              “If a captain ever says he’s off to Kalis,” Tahavi warned, lifting himself from his chair and setting the fallen clamshell down again, “run far away from his ship. No voyage searching for the City of Wonders ever finds anything but disappointment and death. Archen went looking for it five years ago, and no one has heard from him or any of his crew since.”
              “It’s out there somewhere,” Bromm slurred, looking about for the barmaid and fresh drinks. “And someone will find it eventually.”
              “Until they do, it will continue to lure sailors to their deaths,” Tahavi continued.
              “You sound like Sahat,” Imre laughed.
              “Who sounds like me?” Sahat said, appearing behind them. he swept his black broad-brimmed hat from his bald head in a theatrical gesture. Bromm cheered and tried to stand, only to sway on his feet and fall back onto the bench.
              “Sahat! Have you found us a ship?” Tahavi asked.
              “I have,” the older man replied. “She’s the White Shepherd, and she’s bound for Deephold in the morning.”
              “Deephold!” Bromm cried, “I’ve always wanted to see a dwarfhold. I’ve heard that it’s the largest and grandest of all the holds.”
              “Aye. And their mines turn out more silversteel than everywhere else in the world put together,” Imre put in. “I’ve heard that they stretch so deep into the earth that miners go years without seeing the sun.”
              “They’re dwarves,” Sahat pointed out, “They go their entire lives without seeing the sun.” He looked around. “Where’s Pyet?”
              Bromm jerked a thumb toward the tavern’s staircase. “He went upstairs with the pretty wench. Poor lad couldn’t wait to spend his silver after a month at sea.”
              At last, the barmaid returned with their drinks and quickly distributed them before shifting to another table. Her younger, prettier colleague’s alternate employment had left the tavern short-staffed for the moment and she was none too pleased about it. 
              Sahat claimed the drink meant for Pyet and downed it in a single gulp. “To the White Shepherd, and a good haul!” 
              Bromm and Imre cheered. Tahavi had his face in a clamshell and could not join in, though he tried, only to end up sputtering messily through the meat. Sahat moved Bromm’s drink away from him for safekeeping.
              “Once Pyet gets back, we should head down to the Shepherd’s berth, so it’s time for you to quit your drinking.” 
              “I wasn’t finished!” Bromm complained, reaching for his drink.
              “You need to sober up,” Sahat chided. “In your state, you’ll fall into the harbor before you get aboard the ship. They intend to sail with the tides, so we cannot afford any delay. Besides, you’ve been celebrating for three days now. It’s time to get back to work.”
              “The White Shepherd,” Tahavi mused aloud. “I’m not familiar with the ship. Who is the captain?”
              “A man named Karnote. I believe he is Armannaise.”
              “Never heard of him,” Tahavi said dismissively. “Is she a big ship?”
              “Nay, a brig of perhaps eighteen guns, though she carries fewer now. She’s on the dwarfholds run.”
              Bromm started in surprise as someone clapped his shoulder. Turning, he saw that Pyet had returned. The youth’s scruffy face was split by a broad smile, and Bromm saw that his breeches were still undone.
              “Hello, lads!” Pyet beamed.
              “Have a good fuck?” Imre asked with his own smile.
              “Best silver I ever spent,” Pyet replied as his smile somehow grew wider. “She’s got the nicest little tits, if any of you want to have a go.”
              “We’ve got a ship to catch,” Sahat put in before Imre could open his mouth. “Do up your belt and let’s be off.”
              “Well hold on a moment,” Pyet protested. “I want to get something to eat first. Something with flavor, before we end up eating nothing but hardtack and salted cod for a month.”
              Pyet left for the tavern’s kitchen, so Sahat hauled Bromm and Imre toward the door by himself. Tahavi followed at length, still holding on to the last of their clams. After an extended wait, Pyet joined them in the street outside holding a wedge of flat bread drenched in red sauce and topped with cheese and grilled vegetables.
              “Had a bit too much to drink?” he asked around a mouthful of his bread.
              “Never,” Bromm slurred, much to Sahat’s annoyance.
              “Come on,” the bald man growled. He grabbed Bromm by the shoulder and hauled him down the quay. The four of them made their way through the thinning crowds to the White Shepherd’s berth, where they were challenged by a tall orc with a broken tusk.
              “Who goes there?” the orc demanded, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a club studded with iron at his hip and a pistol in a holster across his chest. Bromm drunkenly checked that his own weapons were on his belt. He patted his own pistol hanging from his belt and in doing so, his hand brushed the hilt of the plain iron saber he had bought in Buccaneer’s Bay. 
              “Sahat and the other new crewmen. I spoke with your captain earlier.” Sahat replied, and Bromm noted that he was not reaching for the two daggers he wore tucked into his green and white checkered waistband.
              The orc made a face of annoyance and waved them aboard before resuming his perch next to the gangplank. Taking great care not to stumble into the water as Sahat had predicted, Bromm climbed the plank to reach the brig’s deck. They were met there by a dark-skinned man with his hair in thick, coarse braids that ran down his back. He wore an orange shirt that reached to his knees beneath a wide belt buckled with brass. 
              “Welcome aboard,” he said in a thick, foreign accent. Bromm thought it sounded familiar, but in his drunken stupor he could not place it. “I am Dawhy, the first mate.” He held up a logbook and quill for them.
              “Sign here and you’ll be a part of the crew. Once done, you can take your things down below and get set.”
              They did as asked with only minimal haggling over the terms of the contracts and he ushered them belowdecks to their hammocks. Descending the steps, Bromm saw that the bow of the ship was blocked off with thick iron bars to form a cage. Within that cage, chained to the hull by collars at their necks, were a score of women, naked and huddled together. The hammocks nearest to them were all taken by sailors who lay awake, ogling their captives. Some even stood at the bars with their arms through, leaning and leering together. 
Bromm frowned with disappointment at the scene, but the others pushed him along to their hammocks astern. 
              After setting their things in their sailors’ chests, Sahat turned to Bromm.
              “You are disappointed?”
              “It’s a slave ship,” Bromm said. “I thought we were done with this.”
              “You wanted to see the dwarfhold, didn’t you? This ship is going there.”
              “Surely there was another ship going there. One without slaves?”
              “Well, next time you find us a ship and I’ll get drunk in the tavern.” Sahat threw himself into his hammock and pretended to roll over and sleep. Despite the drink, Bromm could tell he was pretending. The man had not even undressed himself and the daggers in his waistband were surely making his feigned sleep uncomfortable. 
              Bromm doffed his boots and swung into his hammock, but he groaned when he saw a familiar face approaching. Skinny, with thinning hair drawn into a gray tail, the sea rat named Guldrin beamed at Bromm as he strode down the deck to greet him.
              “Hello again, Bromm,” the old man said quietly, taking care not to wake the other sleepers. “You’ve chosen a good ship to sign on with.”
              “Were that true, you would not be here with me,” Bromm groused. Guldrin laughed, his mouth showing off his rotting teeth.
              “It’s good to see you again,” the old man said, clapping a hand to Bromm’s shoulder like an old friend. “Welcome aboard, you’ll love it here. It’s the best work you could ask for. Easy pay, the thrill of the hunt, all the wenches you can fuck, and at the end, you sell them for sweet silver and never have to see them again. Then it’s off to the Coast to catch some new ones! I worked this route once many years ago, but our captain lost his ship to some bad deals and I had to go south to recover. But I’m back now!”
              “This is a route?” Bromm asked.
              “You’ve never heard of it? I suppose you are young. But yes, it’s a route. One of the richest in all the sea. See, we’re just a few hundred miles from the Bountiful Coast, the best raiding territory in all the world. A pirate can put ashore, capture a village and resupply on timber, pitch, grain, fruit, and whatever else he needs. But most of all, he can take their people. The people of the Coast are sold in slave markets from Zahir to the Imperial City itself! And for good reason. Their men know how to work and their women are the most beautiful in all the world. So we raid the villages and sell the men to the Empire and the women to the dwarves.”
              “Why not the men to the dwarves? What use do they have for women?”
              Guldrin laughed. “My boy, you have so much to learn. Dwarves don’t need men. Humans wouldn’t last a week in their mines. No, you have to be a dwarf to survive down there. But they need women. For dwarves are all men. You look surprised. You never thought it odd that you’ve never seen a dwarf woman? There are none. For a dwarf to sire a son, he needs a human woman. Not many women will volunteer to live in a mountain cavern with short, hairy, soot-covered runts, so the dwarves buy them instead. And they pay in silver, gold, gems, sometimes even silversteel, so I’ve been told. You’ve struck it rich on this route, you’ll see.”
              “That all sounds wonderful, but I will be moving on soon enough,” Bromm replied, swinging himself into his hammock. Guldrin shrugged.
              “Suit yourself. I’ll be here when you decide to come back.” The old sea rat wandered away and left Bromm to sulk drunkenly in his hammock.
 
              The following morning, Bromm awoke with a ferocious headache. Up on deck, the air was thick with seagulls as two longboats towed their brig out into the open sea, where she unfurled her sails and caught the wind. In short order, they were sailing north at a respectable nine knots. Bromm found Sahat and Imre in the ship’s prow, cleaning themselves off in the ship’s showers. 
              “Did you know Guldrin was aboard?” Bromm demanded. Sahat merely shrugged, letting the salty water pour down his naked back.
              “He goes where he goes,” Sahat replied easily. “I was not going to let his presence keep us from getting a good berth.”
              “It’s not a good berth if he’s here,” Bromm complained. 
              “What do you care?” Imre asked. “Guldrin is a rat, but he’s harmless enough. And he likes you.”
              “Why I cannot understand, I’ve never shown him kindness,” Bromm grumbled. “I find him repugnant, and his glee over this slaver’s ship is why.”
              “They pay,” Sahat said with another shrug. “I had no idea you were such a priest about all this.”
              “We’ll find a new ship in Deephold,” Bromm said and stalked off. 
              The others left him alone for the day, but in the evening after the sun went down, he found himself dicing on deck with them all and some other sailors. 
              “You’ve barely secured a new source of wages and you’re already losing them again,” Imre taunted as he scraped up Pyet’s bet at the end of their game.
              “What good is money if you never spend it?” Pyet asked. He leaned back on his seat, and upturned bucket, and took a long draw from his gin bottle. Bromm laughed and distributed the dice for another hand.
              “Who’s betting?” he called out. Pyet’s new friend Lukodo put down a handful of coins and was soon joined by Bromm and his friends.
              “Lukodo,” Pyet said as he peeked at his dice. “How long have you been aboard the Shepherd?”
              “Eight months,” Lukodo replied. The man was tall, muscular, and very dark-skinned. Bromm thought he might be a cousin to the first mate, though he had a lighter accent.
              “How does the captain treat you?” Imre asked, then added “I’ll open the bidding since I won. Three threes.”
              “He’s fair enough. Discipline is harsh on those out of line but follow the rules and you’ll make out alright.”
              “Four threes,” Tahavi said, continuing the bidding. “How does the route treat you?”
              “Usually quite well. The Shepherd can sail up most rivers on the coast, so we can raid far inland for captives. The captain has a contact at the Guild who gives him a good price for wives, so we make out well.”
              Bromm stole a peek at his dice again. “Four fours. Wives? Tell me about that.”
              “Four fives,” Lukodo said. “Wives, the dwarves need them to breed more dwarves. They buy slaves, make treaties with the villages around their hold, sometimes raid for them themselves. Dwarves who leave the hold to make a fortune try to bring back wives when they come home.”
              “Five fives,” said Pyet. “What’s a wife worth to a dwarf?”
              “Depends on the dwarf. The rich ones have private harems filled with the most beautiful women they can buy. The rest use the Wives’ Guild, which is more like a brothel. Dwarves fuck a woman and leave, then just hope the woman bears his son.”
              “Six fives,” bid Sahat. “Hope? Is that all they get?”
              “It’s all they can get,” Lukodo replied. “Unless they have enough money to buy a wife for themselves.”
              “And this ship provides the wives,” Bromm supplied. 
              “This and many others. The dwarves love their gold jealously and give it up for little. Wives are one of the only commodities dear enough to them to win away their gold.”
              Imre bid six fives, but Bromm pressed Lukodo further.
              “What of the women you sell them?”
              “What of them?” Lukodo replied. “I spare them little thought, once they’re off my ship.”
              “Surely it is no crueler fate to be pampered in a dwarven harem than in a Torvuls brothel,” said Tahavi. “Seven fives.”
              “Liar,” Bromm called. Tahavi sighed and they all lifted their cups, proving Bromm right. Tahavi surrendered a die, and they began the next hand. 
              “Three twos,” Tahavi said, beginning the bidding.
              “What is the Guild like?” Bromm asked.
              Lukodo shrugged. “It has sunlight at least. It’s built at the edge of the mountain and even has a balcony that overlooks the harbor. You’ll like Deephold, just you wait.”
              “I’ve heard it’s wondrous,” Bromm said. Is it really built into the side of a mountain? Four twos.”
              “Aye. The harbor is a cavern entrance and we will sail right into its mouth to shelter beneath the mountain itself. Five twos. I’ve never seen a better place to wait out a bitter northern storm.”
              “I’ve heard terrible things about northern storms,” Pyet said, “But I’ve spent all my time in the south. Five fours.”
              “They’re terrible,” replied Lukodo, his gaze going distant for a moment. “We lost seven men in the last one, which is why we put into Sanctum Port. Normally, we go from the raiding site to Deephold and then back to raiding. But this time we had to rest and repair.”
              “Six fours,” bid Sahat. “Is that common?”
              “Northern storms can be fierce,” Imre said before adding his bid. “Six fives.”
              “That much is true,” Lukodo agreed, “Tough this was a more ferocious storm than I have ever seen. It snapped two spars clean in half.”
“Seven fives,” bid Tahavi.
              “Perhaps the people of the Coast called down Azlit’s wrath upon you for your plundering,” Bromm suggested airily. “Seven sixes.” 
              “Liar!” called Pyet. Bromm lifted his cup and they all groaned, for beneath it were four sixes, which combined with one more from Lukodo and a pair from Imre made Bromm the winner.
              “Imre, stop rolling sixes,” Pyet chided, “between your rolls and Bromm’s damnable luck, I will lose all my money before we make port again.
              “What do you have to spend it on out here except gambling?” Bromm laughed back at him.
              “You’ll not find a whore out on the seas unless she’s a mermaid,” Sahat laughed.
              “There’s whores down below,” Lukodo said plainly. The others turned to him with quizzical looks.
              “The man Kannad, the actor, he usually opens the cage at night to pimp the girls,” Lukodo went on. “Sometimes its hard to sleep at night from all the fucking going on. I like to watch, but if there’s an especially pretty one, I’ll throw in some coins.”
              “Think it might be open tonight?” Pyet asked.
              “Why ask when we could see for ourselves?”
              Pyet stood up. “I’m afraid my heart’s no longer in this game, lads. I’m off to belowdecks to find a woman.”
              He stood up and walked away from the game. Leaning against the gunwale, Sahat looked around to the other gamblers. 
              “I think I might join him,” he said after a pause. Bromm glowered at the deck as Imre wordlessly stood up and followed the others toward the hatch. Lukodo scooped up his coins and followed them. Sighing heavily, Bromm and Tahavi stood up and abandoned the game as well.
              Down below, the cage was locked up tight. But sitting on a rude stool in front of its iron door was a grizzled old man with a glassy left eye, nearly split by a long scar running from the bridge of his nose to his ear. 
              “Kannad,” Lukodo began, “Is the cage open tonight?”
              Kannad cast a glassy eye over them and scowled. 
              “We just left port this morning and you sea rats are already looking to get your cocks wet?” he spat onto the deck. “I suppose I might as well let you in. Coin is coin, after all.” 
              He stood up from his stool and removed a thick iron key from his wide belt. He reached for the door, then stopped and turned around.
              “Most of you are new, so I’ll lay down the rules. You pay for one girl, you get one girl. There’s nineteen in there, but you only fuck the ones you pay for. Cum outside the girls, the dwarves won’t be happy if we sell them a woman carrying your bastard. Leave your weapons out here,” he commanded. “I won’t have any of the girls getting crazy ideas with a stolen pistol or knife. In fact, it can get messy in there so I would leave all your clothes out here. And when you’re done, get in the showers. We all have to smell you on this little ship, so show some respect to the crew. Now, money upfront.”
              Bromm handed over his money first and they began to strip, stowing their things in a large oaken sea chest next to Kannad’s stool. Pyet was naked first, and quickly began priming his cock with long, vigorous strokes. He leaned against the cage, peering in with great interest. The girls began to stir, huddling together closer as they saw the men gathering.
              “Pick one you’re all fond of,” Kannad said. He had produced a heavy baton that he tucked under his arm while waiting for the men to finish undressing. Sahat was last to stow his things and turned to join the others. They all stood together, cocks in hand as they stroked and looked over the selection before them. Bromm no doubt would have thought them a ridiculous sight, but he was too taken by the other sight before him; nearly a score of naked young women, any one of them available to him.
              He passed his eyes over the crowd, all of them frightened and vulnerable. But Bromm could not bring himself to see that, he could only see their nakedness and imagine himself thrusting inside of them. One of them raised her head and met Bromm’s eyes. 
              She was slender, tall, and pale. Very pale, Bromm thought as he looked over her smooth, naked body sitting on the deck. Her soft blue eyes shone in the light of the hold’s lanterns and she stilled her trembling jaw as Bromm fixed his lustful gaze upon her.
              She stood up on slender, white legs and brushed her long brown hair over her shoulder, baring her little breasts to the leering sailors. They were soft and white, crowned with big nipples set in wide rings of pink flesh that made Bromm stroke his cock faster as he admired them. Between her legs she was shaven and over all her supple young body she wore only the iron collar about her neck that kept her in bondage. 
              “That one,” Bromm whispered, unaware for a moment that he had spoken out loud.
              “Good choice,” said Kannad. He inserted the key into the cage’s lock and turned it. The cage door swung open to admit Bromm’s party of six naked, erect sailors with lust in their eyes. 
              “She is quite pretty,” Bromm said to no one in particular as he passed Kannad, who merely grunted.
              “Aye, seems a waste to sell them to dwarves. Dwarves don’t care how pretty they are, a wife’s a wife to them. But the brothels, they’ll pay handsomely for a pretty wench. Ah, but I’m not the captain. He just keeps me around to paint them.”
              Once they were all inside, Kannad shut the door behind them with a clang. Bromm turned in surprise. Kannad shrugged. 
              “Don’t want them getting out, or any of these other dogs rushing in to join without paying.” Behind him, Bromm saw a few sailors stirring in their hammocks, awoken by the sound of the closing cage. “I’ll open it when you’re done.”
              Kannad resumed his seat on the rude stool outside. Bromm turned his attention back to the slave girl, who was already surrounded. Lukodo cupped her small breast in one hand and kissed the girl’s neck.
              “You chose well, Bromm,” he said, his cock in his free hand.
              “She is no doubt the prettiest of them all,” Imre agreed as he ducked his head beneath the chain fastened to her neck and took up a position behind her. The girl looked Bromm in the eyes, her expression determined. Bromm approached slowly, hands around his cock, as the girl was buffeted about in the other men’s arms. Pyet pressed his cock into her hand while Sahat slipped two fingers inside her shaven sex. Lukodo and Imre stood behind her, groping her up and down her body with rough, calloused hands. Imre pushed Sahat’s hand away and shoved his cock into the girl.
              She gasped, her mouth widening with pleasurable sensation, and Imre put his hands on her shoulders and he began to thrust. Sahat grabbed her free hand and put it on his cock. Obediently, she began to stroke both the cocks in her hands. Her little breasts bounced under Imre’s thrusts and she began to moan softly, her chains clanking as Imre fucked her. Bromm stood in front of her, looking into her eyes as his friend fucked her from behind.
              “I am pleased to serve you, sirs,” she said, her voice heavy with an accent of the Bountiful Coast. She was Pyttish, Bromm thought. He knew little of the peoples of the Coast, but in taverns across the sea, Pyttish girls were celebrated as the most beautiful women of all.
              “Go on, Bromm,” Tahavi encouraged. “You chose her, get some already!” he grabbed the girl’s head and pushed it down to Bromm’s cock, which she immediately took into her mouth. Bromm sighed in pleasure as she enveloped his cock within her, her tongue working along the head already. Imre gripped her by the hips now, fucking her vigorously as she pleasured Bromm with her mouth. She made quite the sight, with a cock in her at both ends and one more in each hand while two more cocks awaited their turns on the side. 
              Bromm felt the heat of the crowd around him, her soft skin beneath his fingers as he caressed her shoulders. He ran his fingers through her long brown hair as it dangled down to one side. She turned her head to look up at him as she sucked, her eyes pleading even as her lips kissed his cock. 
              “Does my touch please you, master?” she asked, and Bromm could only nod.
Imre turned his head and looked into the eyes of the other slave girls, who were huddled together on the deck watching as their fellow captive was fucked by a mob of sailors. He smiled at them and pointed at a pretty blonde with large breasts near the back.
              “You’re next, girl,” he said with a hungry smile. She buried her face between her knees and one of her companions put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Imre turned his attention back to the girl he was fucking.
              “Oh, she’s got great holes,” he gasped. “I’m gonna come already.”
              “On her or on the deck,” Kannad commanded from behind them. Bromm turned to see him standing at the cage’s walls, pointing his baton through the bars. “There’ll be a penalty if you let loose inside her,” he continued. 
Imre had no ears for him and continued to pound away, his pace quickening. Lukodo moved up behind Imre, preparing to take his place as soon as he finished. Imre pulled out of her at the last minute, spurting a rope of cum that landed on her smooth ass. He groaned with pleasure and squeezed out another burst, this one sticking to her legs before dripping down to the deck. 
              As soon as Imre stepped away, Lukodo thrust himself into the girl and began fucking her hard. His dark skin clapped against her white buttocks, the sound echoing about the hold. Bromm looked behind himself again and saw three sailors leaning at the bars, two stroking their cocks. His attention was pulled back to the girl as her mouth withdrew from his cock.              
              Lukodo had put his hands around the base of her neck and pulled her away. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, clutching her close to his body as he fucked her. The girl moaned and writhed in his grip, her blue eyes meeting Bromm’s again. He stood alone, holding his cock, which was wet with her spittle. 
              Lukodo held the girl close to him and fucked her vigorously for long enough that the others began to grow impatient. At last, he cried out in ecstasy and lifted her off his cock. Setting her down on the deck, he pushed her to her knees and came on her face. His cum shot into her eyes and onto her cheeks, long lines of it glistening in the dim lantern light. Blinking in discomfort, she turned to wipe her eyes clean, but before she could, Pyet lifted her to her feet and entered her from behind.
              Satisfied, Lukodo sat against the wall to watch, still slowly stroking his soft cock between his hands. Imre had made his way through the huddle of slave girls and now sat next to the girl he had chosen for his next tryst. His arm lay draped around her shoulder as they sat naked together, watching the show before them. 
              Pyet fucked her hard, clutching her to him as Lukodo had, though he did not last as long before coming. He set her on her knees as well and shoved his cock into her mouth where he came. 
              “Open up, girl,” he commanded, and she obeyed. Her mouth was pink and wet, but all of Pyet’s cum had been swallowed. “Good girl,” he said and went to the door.
              Kannad allowed him out and behind him, Bromm, Tahavi, and Sahat took their turns. The girl was kneeling on the deck, and Bromm held out his cock in front of her. She eagerly took it in her mouth, and when Sahat and Tahavi presented their cocks, she took them in her hands with enthusiasm. Looking up at Bromm as she again sucked his cock, she did her best to smile around it. Bromm smiled back, though he was not sure why, but he was sure that he and this girl had something between them. He had fucked more than a few women and knew the look of a whore trying to wheedle a few extra coins out of him by feigning affection. But this was something else. He just could not determine what it was.
              She switched to sucking Sahat’s cock while she stroked Bromm, then changed to Tahavi. But Tahavi quickly tired of that and bent her over on the deck to fuck her on all fours. Sahat, however, was overwhelmed with lust. He pushed Tahavi aside, and the younger man only scowled as his friend shoved his cock inside the girl. Tahavi backed off while Sahat turned her onto her stomach and lay atop her. He fucked her roughly against the deck until she could take it no more and pushed herself up. 
              “Please, sir, the deck,” she complained. “The wood is too rough for me.”
              Plucking a splinter from her breast, she crouched on all fours and Sahat took her again. Her blue eyes fixed on Bromm as his friend fucked her from behind, lost in his own world of carnal pleasure. At last, he came as well and Tahavi and Bromm were all that remained. Sahat exited the cage and Bromm moved forward.
              The girl stood up and took his cock in her hands with a smile. Bromm wanted to kiss her, but the cum glistening on her face dissuaded him. But the girl lowered her mouth to his cock and sucked him to stiffen his cock. Bromm pulled his cock out and positioned her in front of him, facing away. He slipped his cock into her sex and began to thrust. She was welcoming but tight and he had to clench to keep from coming. He wrapped her in his arms and fucked her vigorously, while she craned her head back to look into his eyes. Her own were dazzling that he forgot for a moment that Lukodo’s cum still clung to her pretty face. He leaned in to kiss her and she pressed her hot lips against his in a moment of passion. 
              Separating from her lips, he looked down to his cock sliding in and out of her. Her ass cheeks were red where the other men had fucked her, but their pale smoothness made Bromm fight back to urge to come inside her all the same. Seeking a distraction, he broke from her gaze and looked to the cage’s wall. There, to his great annoyance, he saw Guldrin among the leering sailors. Guldrin smiled at him and raised his hands in approval. Bromm scowled and turned back to the girl in his arms. 
              His lust intensifying, he fucked her harder. Her little breasts bounced with each impact of his hips against hers and she moaned with pleasure. Bromm pulled her close and kissed her neck. 
              “Fuck her like you caught her, Bromm!”  cheered Guldrin. Bromm tried to put the old sailor our of his mind and focus on the beautiful woman in his arms.
              He was approaching climax, and from her eyes, she could tell. Bromm bit his lip as he fought down the urge until he could contain it no longer. Deftly, the girl dismounted from his cock and knelt before him. With his hand around the shaft, Bromm pointed his cock at her face and let loose. Shooting from his cock, his cum flew onto her face and intermingled with Lukodo’s own. It dripped slowly into her mouth where she licked it from her lips eagerly and smiled at Bromm again. 
              At last, Tahavi had his turn. He lifted the girl into his arms and settled her on his cock. She clung to him like a shipwrecked sailor to a piece of debris as he bounced her on his cock and nibbled at her breasts until at last he yanked his cock out of her and made her kneel before him and receive his cum.
              Looking up at them she murmured in delight. “Your cum tastes good, masters.” Bromm and Tahavi merely laughed breathlessly.
              “All done at last?” Kannad called from the door. The key squeaked in the lock as it turned. 
              “Come on out now, and get to sleep. The dawn is never as far away as you think.”
              Bromm gave the girl one last look. On her knees, her collar still around her neck, she gave Bromm a sultry look as she licked her lips. But her face changed as he stepped away, going from sultry to poorly concealed desperation as he headed for the door.
              “Well done,” Kannad said as they filed out. “I had thought at least one of you dogs would come in the girl and I’d have to beat you. But you’re not the lawless dregs I thought you were. Now, head up to the bow and take a shower before we all choke on your raw stench.”
 
              The morning found them riding the edge of a squall, turning the strong winds into good speed as they made their way north ever faster. Otherwise, the morning passed uneventfully and Bromm found himself in the forecastle at midday, listening to the tales Imre had picked up in port. 
              “They struck the yearly spice fleet at anchor in Epida and carried off treasure worth a vast fortune. I was told they took more than two hundred thousand talents of spice, as well as porcelain, ivory, and silks.”
              “Two hundred thousand talents?” Sahat asked incredulously. “That must be more than the Alchemists can produce all year. Surely you’ve been taken for a fool, Imre.”
              Imre shrugged. “Pirates love a tall tale and this has been twenty years in the telling. But I know it was a great prize. The Empire sent a fleet of sixty ships to hunt them down.”
              “But he got away?” Pyet asked eagerly.
              “Aye,” Imre nodded. “He sold much of it at Torvuls, but the queen was beset by the Spicers’ Guild, who demanded his head. So Taralan fled Torvuls and wandered the eastern shores for some time until he went away into the south and founded a new port once the Imperial Armada gave up the search.”
              “What a prize,” Pyet said with a whistle. “I would like to be part of such a raid someday.”
              Bromm smiled in agreement. 
              “We’ll buy our own ship someday,” he said, “and carve ourselves into the history of the pirates in gold and blood.”
              “We’ll need something fast and powerful,” Pyet said. “A frigate, or a corvette.”
              “Nay,” Lukodo replied, “Something fast and small is best for a pirate. A sloop, or a brig like this one.”
              “This would make a better raider than a slaver,” Bromm mused as he looked around the Shepherd. 
              Behind them, a commotion broke out and they turned to see Karnote the captain and a gaggle of other sailors emerge onto the deck. An irate dwarf followed the captain out, shouting at Dawhy in a language Bromm did not understand. Following the first mate were two large and musclebound sailors, one the orc who had guarded the gangplank when Bromm first came aboard, and between them they half-carried, half-dragged another frightened young man between them. 
              “What’s happening?” Imre said, abandoning his story. He looked to Lukodo, whose eyes were narrowed as he listened to the shouting. The frightened sailor was dragged to the mainmast, stripped to the waist, and bound there. Karnote ignored the angry dwarf and climbed the steps to the quarterdeck as Dawhy tried to calm the dwarf.
              “Every man on deck, listen to my words!” the captain boomed. “I will not tolerate theft aboard my ship. Any man who breaks the rules will be punished.” He looked to Dawhy and nodded. The dwarf roared in fury and slammed his fist against the gunwale. Another sailor had emerged from belowdecks and smirked at the dwarf, who balled his fists in rage. 
              “Liar!” he roared in the Common tongue, and charged the man. The two of them crashed to the deck, arms flailing, and were soon pulled apart by the other sailors. 
              “You have been warned!” Karnote shouted at the dwarf. “Take him to the mast as well!”
              Struggling against his taller, stronger captors, the dwarf fought hard but wound up at the mast as well. Dawhy produced a cat-of-nine-tails and hefted it in his arm. Lukodo tapped Imre on the arms and discreetly pointed.
              “The men assembling on the starboard side are taking the dwarf’s side, while the liar’s companions are gathering to port. We may be about to witness a brawl.”
              “Has this happened before?” Bromm asked. Lukodo shook his head.
              “Not this, but these two have been at loggerheads for months. Urgan, the dwarf, and that smiling snake Darre quarreled before we made port. Darre thought Urgan allowed Darre’s sea chest to be swept overboard in the storm, and now he has got Urgan’s lover sent to the mast. Urgan will not forget this.”
              “That cat won’t help,” Sahat muttered. “That’s how to turn a quarrel into a vendetta, or I’m the mermaid’s daughter.”
              Lukodo shrugged. “Better that they have it out sooner than later so we can replace the losses and get back to work.”
              Dawhy stepped forward and struck the young man across the back with the cat. The youth shrieked in agony, while Urgan’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. He stared murder across the deck at Darre, who leaned casually against the gunwale and watched. The first mate doled out ten lashes to each of them before cutting them loose and ordering the crew back to work. All the while Karnote watched sternly from the quarterdeck. 
              A tense air pervaded the ship for the rest of the day, and the partisans of the two quarreling crewmen exchanged hateful looks as they passed each other. Bromm and his companions kept out of the way as best they could, always afraid the ship was about to break out into violence. Calm at last began to return as the cool evening breeze settled over the ship. 
              His tension still not wholly relieved, Bromm found himself at the door to the cage again, handing over his coin and clothes to Kannad. He picked the same girl as the night before, while Imre bought the buxom blonde he had been eyeing. The others were uninterested and turned in for the night. 
              Bromm made the girl kneel before him and suck his cock, which she did happily while staring up at him with her pretty blue eyes. Behind her, Imre had his woman bent over against the hull as he fucked her from behind, her big tits swinging below her chest.
              Bromm ran a hand through his girl’s hair and brushed it back from her eyes. She smiled up at him and he felt himself smile back.
              “What’s your name, girl?” he asked suddenly, surprising himself.
              “I am Isenna,” she replied. “Do I please master?”
              “You do,” he replied with some embarrassment. She was getting to him, he knew. He lifted her to her feet and turned her around. She obediently spread her legs to welcome his cock inside her. Bromm closed his eyes as he entered her. Slowly, he began to fuck her once again.
              Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at her naked back, her pale skin glowing in the lantern light. As he watched and fucked, she turned her head back to look at him.
              “Master is fond me?” she asked, and Bromm nodded, though he could think of little but her beautiful body between his hands.
              “Master would buy me?” she asked, and looked into his eyes. Bromm saw fear and desperation in her face. “I don’t want to be a dwarf wife,” she whispered. 
              Bromm was at a loss. She was pleading with him to save her from a fate he could not prevent. He was a mere sailor, how could he afford to outbid a dwarf looking to continue his line? He stammered at her as he continued to pump his hips. 
              “You are worth a lot of silver to these men,” Bromm said sheepishly, “I’m a poor sailor.”
              She was crestfallen.
              “I am sorry,” he said, though he recognized the emptiness of it.
              “I pray,” she said, “Every night I pray to all the gods. I pray to be saved. But no help is coming.”
              Bromm had no response to her. He felt her tremble beneath his fingers, but whether from lust or desperation he could not say. He grabbed her breasts from behind and continued fucking, trying to put her pleading out of his mind. With considerable effort, well after Imre had finished with his woman, Bromm at last finished on Isenna’s buttocks and hurried from the cage.
              Kannad opened the door to release Bromm but also to admit another sailor, who went straight to Isenna and mounted her. Bromm dressed and went to sleep as quickly as he could, all the while trying to avoid thinking of Isenna and her plight.
 
              In the afternoon of the next day, the cry from the crow’s nest told of land to the west. Crowding to the gunwale, they saw the distant shores of the Haunted Isle loom over the horizon. The island was yet many miles distant, but Bromm was sure he saw great winged shapes circling in the distance. 
              “We have never sailed so close before,” Lukodo muttered behind Bromm. When the other man saw him looking, Lukodo went on. “We have always stayed over the horizon, out of sight. A man need not set foot on the island’s shores to feel its curse.”
              The helmsman made no course changes, and the island hung over the western horizon throughout the rest of the day. Bromm tried to put it from his mind, but he felt the tension of the previous day returning. Murderous looks were exchanged between the partisans into the night. He won again at gambling in the evening and went below to see Isenna, hoping against his own mind that she would not beg for freedom.
              Kannad sat at his usual place on the stool, idly playing with a handful of coins. But Bromm’s gaze went past him to Isenna, who was on all fours in the middle of the cage, being roughly fucked from behind by Guldrin. The old sea rat had his fingers in her mouth while he grasped at her little breasts with his other hand. Neither of them noticed Bromm approach, lost in their impassioned rutting. 
              “Back again?” Kannad asked as Bromm came to a stop in front of the door. “I reckon you should spend a few more days collecting wages before you spend them all on a woman.”
              Bromm clutched his full coin pouch but said nothing. Guldrin noticed his presence and looked up to give him a sly wink. The old man’s gray hair hung down in back in a short braid that slapped against his skin with each thrust and he smiled, showing yellow and rotting teeth. Bromm was filled with revulsion and just a hint of jealousy. Isenna opened her eyes and met Bromm’s gaze. Her expression did not change, rocking back and forth on her hands and knees as the filthy man fucked her. His fingers explored her mouth, clutching and pulling at her cheeks. Isenna hid her revulsion well, but Bromm could tell she wanted nothing more from Guldrin than a sympathetic ear that might set her free. And that’s all she wants from me, too, he told himself sourly. Bromm only realized that he was scowling when Isenna gave him a slight shrug of apology.
              Turning on his heel, Bromm strode away to his hammock without a word.
 
              Despite his ill luck in the next night’s dice game, Bromm returned for Isenna all the same. He seated himself on a barrel while she mounted the cock in his lap and rode him. She was quiet at first but as he buried his face between her beautiful white breasts she lowered her head to whisper in his ear.
              “Master would help me? I would be his wife, his servant, whatever he wants. Please save me from a dwarf wife.”
              Bromm stopped his lustily nuzzling to look into her eyes. She was staring plaintively into his eyes once again. Why do I keep coming back for her when she pleads like this? Bromm wondered. He tightened his grip on her hips and continued to bounce her on his cock. Her chain clanked with each rise and fall on his cock.
              “Master, please,” she whispered. “Save me.”
              Bromm shook his head. “There is nothing I can do.”
              Tears welled up in her eyes even as she continued to ride him.
              “You abandon me?” she whimpered, “I will be a dwarf’s wife while you sail a ship?”
              “I am sorry,” Bromm said again, “It is the will of the gods.”
              Isenna began to cry and Bromm pulled her close, both to comfort her and so that he could not see her face. She shook with each bounce on her cock but also with her own sobs, her warm tears falling onto his bare shoulders. He clutched her to his chest until he was close to finishing, at which point he pulled out and came on her back. She made no response, and only continued to cry into his shoulder. Bromm gently lifted her off him and set her down against the hull. 
              Isenna looked up at him as he turned away.
              “Go away then,” she cried, “leave me behind. You are a black-hearted rogue! I curse you!”
              She lowered her head to cry onto her chest and Bromm could only stand there. He felt ridiculous. He was naked, with his limp cock hanging spent in front of him while a pretty girl cried because of his uselessness. Glumly, he turned and left the cage. As he dressed, Kannad opened the cage to admit another sailor, one of Urgan’s partisans, who went right to Isenna and made her suck his cock. 
              Bromm went up on deck and into the forecastle where the ship’s showers were. Once undressed again, he pulled the strong to command whoever was running the pumps and soon, cold seawater flowed from the pipes onto his head. He scrubbed himself vigorously, as if to wash away his own shame. Even under the cold stream of water, he felt her hot touch, her breath in his ear, and her tears dripping onto his shoulder. 
              The water flow cut off suddenly, leaving Bromm naked, cold, and alone in the forecastle. Standing in silence for a moment, he could hear nothing but the wind and sea. He pulled the string again, but the water flow did not resume. After a frigid moment of waiting, he dried and dressed himself and went belowdecks again.
              He passed the cage on his way down the steps and looked in. Isenna was riding the other sailor with his hands on her breasts. As Bromm watched, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. Bromm could know make out her words, but from her manner he knew them to be the same pleas she had whispered to him.
              So, she has other dice in her cup, Bromm thought to himself. She only needs one of them to come up in her favor, but who here can afford to buy a slave girl earmarked as a dwarf wife?
              Still without answers for himself, he fell into a fitful sleep.
 
              At dawn on their fifth day, they sighted land again and by midday they were in the Deeping Gulf. Tall pine trees lined the western shore while the eastern shore lay out of sight over the horizon. White Shepherd crawled slowly up the gulf toward the rocky mountains at its northern end. The gulf’s waters were restless, with whitecaps churning all day that slowed the brig’s progress north and made the slave girls seasick. 
              Sitting in the crow’s nest with Imre, Bromm peered through a spyglass at the shore. Every few miles, he spotted a small fishing village clinging to the shores and all throughout the bay were small boats at work. In the late afternoon, they spotted a convoy of six fluyts heading south, all under the flag of the Cassine Family Coaster out of Sostrum. An hour after passing the convoy, with the light in the west dying slowly, they passed another pair of lumbering galleons, bristling with cannon and under full sail as they cut their way through the waves toward the south. 
              Bromm did not go to the cage that night, instead lying awake in his hammock to stare at the timbers above him. Isenna’s words rang inside his head. What could I do? He wondered. This is out of my control, it is up to the gods to intervene, he told himself, not for the first time. But he was still not sure he believed himself.
 
              Bromm awoke to the sound of much activity above him, the heavy footsteps of eager sailors reverberating through the deckbeams above him. Swinging himself from his hammock, he hurried up to the deck. 
              The whole crew was assembled on deck, looking to their north as Deephold came into view at last. Before them loomed a massive mountain that came all the way up to the sea’s edge, snow-capped even in midsummer. Towering cliffs of gray granite rose like the walls of a god’s castle, pierced here and there by turrets and balconies. And where the mountain met the water there was a yawning mouth into which the white sails of a large fluyt were vanishing. 
              White Shepherd cut a swift path through the waves as she neared the mountain’s opening and Bromm was ordered into the rigging to man the sails. The mouth of the cavern loomed before them, tall enough to accommodate even a great galleon’s masts and wide enough to swallow five at a time with room to spare. Beyond it, in the gloom of the cavern, Bromm could make out many ships drawn up against the wharf. Behind them were the illuminated streets of a small town, sloping upward into the mountain until they reached a wall of rock at the cavern’s rear. As the Shepherd neared, Bromm and his fellow sailhands reefed the sails, letting the brig coast in on the force of the tide alone. 
              They passed beneath the lip of the cavern, into shadow, and Bromm looked up toward the roof. There he saw grim faces looking down at him through murder holes, steel-clad dwarven sentries clutching arbalests and arquebuses. Though he was level with the Shepherd’s topsail, the sentries were still a hundred feet or more above him and the feeling made him dizzy. 
              On the cavern’s tide, the Shepherd drifted lazily toward the wharf before executing a sharp turn to starboard. Dwarven longshoremen caught the mooring lines and pulled the brig in to harbor. They tied the hawsers before checking and rechecking them before one of the Shepherd’s sailors leaped ashore to inspect them himself. As Bromm climbed down from the rigging, the ship was secured, and a party of dwarves climbed aboard. Karnote and Dawhy descended from the quarterdeck to meet them, and money was exchanged.
              Bromm paused on the ratlines, with Lukodo beneath him, and watched. 
              “That’s the harbormaster,” Lukodo said, “He knows Karnote from a hundred prior voyages, but it’s always the same. He wants to know if Karnote is here to trade for silversteel, which requires a special license. Slaves require a license as well, but the captain is here to trade wives, which requires no license.”
              Bromm looked around the harbor. There were more than fifty other ships moored in the cavern’s depths. 
              “Are these all slavers?” he asked. Lukodo shook his head.
              “No, many of them have come to trade grain, meats, and other essentials the dwarves can get nowhere else.” He saw Bromm’s expression and laughed. “They live under a mountain, they have few places to grow grain. They graze goats and sheep on the slopes, but the kingdom counts over a hundred thousand dwarves within its borders. They cannot all live on mutton and goat’s meat.”
              “What do the dwarves have besides metal?”
              Lukodo shrugged. “Metal is good enough. They have gems and stone, but metal is what brings ships here to trade. The dwarves make the finest steel in all the world, and cannons the envy of emperors. But gold is precious to them, and they will only give it up in exchange for the finest goods.”
              “Or women.”
              “Women are goods for them,” Lukodo said with a shrug as the harbormaster began to leave. “Come, let us take a walk around the market.”
              Bromm climbed down from the ratlines and joined Lukodo on the deck. Before they could reach the wharf, they were joined by Pyet and Tahavi. As they walked along the harbor’s edge, Lukodo pointed up the slope of the town to the great wall at the back. 
              “Up there is the entrance to the dwarves’ halls. Passage is restricted to those with special licenses or friends inside. But out here, anyone can wander and trade.”
              They passed buildings made of stone and brick until they reached an open square where many small stalls had been set up. The market was lit by a massive chandelier than hung suspended from the roof, many hundreds of feet above them, and blazed with the light of a miniature sun.
              “What a magnificent creation,” Tahavi gawked as they first beheld it. 
              “A dwarf once explained to me how they keep it lit,” Lukodo supplied, “A clever system of pumps keeps whale oil flowing down to the candles from above through a tube woven into the chain.”
              “I have long heard of dwarven expertise, but to see it firsthand is a wondrous experience,” Bromm murmured. They wandered among the stalls where dwarves sold expertly forged weapons, armor, and other metalwares. Each stall was fitted with the crest of its owner, his clan, and the guild he worked for, as Lukodo explained. While there was a distinction between the dwarves’ best and worst, even the poorest smith here would be a valued artisan in most other cities of the world.
              Bromm bought himself a dagger of tempered steel, then a flintlock pistol engraved with dwarven runes. Combined with his nightly visits to Isenna, he had almost run himself out of money and so could not help but look forward to collecting his share from the sale of the wives.
              Pyet bought himself a saber, but Tahavi kept his silver close. When they had spent enough time browsing the wares, Lukodo led them out of the market another way. Everywhere they went, the streets were lit by lanterns and streetlamps, for the meager sunlight filtering through the cavern entrance left its depths nearly pitch black otherwise.
              Lukodo showed them the sights, including his favorite drinking hole, which Bromm had to concede served an excellent beer. Most impressive was that the dwarves served their beers cold, chilled by ice delivered from the mountain’s snowy peaks in cunningly devised chests that could keep ice frozen on voyages to ports as far away as Torvuls and the Imperial City. The tavern-keeper boasted that he bought his ice from the same dwarf who chilled the Auric Emperor’s wine. 
              But the greatest marvel Bromm saw was on their way back along the wharf. Looking out across the harbor, he saw a great stone fortress set against the cavern’s outer wall. Its towers climbed the walls like vines until they connected with the roof, and great stone bastions studded with cannons protruded into the harbor. And before all of this sat a massive, turtle-backed ship of iron. Along its flanks where two great waterwheels and a tall metal tower jutted from its back like the waterspout of a breaching whale. Gunports in its bow and flanks were open, giving Bromm a view of huge, large-bore cannons behind them.
              “What is that?” Bromm wondered aloud and the others stopped to stare.
              “That is the Beast of Deephold, the Black Colossus,” Lukodo said, “it is a dwarven monstrosity powered by some infernal fire in its belly. Its iron shell is a hand thick and invulnerable to cannonfire. Only sorcery or a brave boarding party could bring that thing down.”
              “Woe to the boarding party that tries to close with those guns,” Bromm muttered. “How heavy is their shot?”
              “No one has ever given me the numbers, but they must at least match the firepower of a threedecker’s thirty-two pounders.”
              “A broadside from that would shred a little thing like White Shepherd,” Tahavi mused. “But how fast can it move?”
              “I’m not certain,” Lukodo replied with another of his characteristic shrugs, “But they don’t call it the turtle for nothing. Come on, let’s get back to the Shepherd.”
              They continued on down the wharf until they reached the brig, where a small crowd had gathered both on the wharf and on deck. Summitting the gangplank, Bromm soon learned why. All the slave girls had been brought up from the hold and sat naked on the deck. Kannad was carefully painting their faces as if they were Torvuls courtesans. While the girls waited obediently, the sailors of White Shepherd and ships nearby hooted and hollered in excitement. Men hung from the ratlines and stood on the gunwales for better views, and Kannad had posted guards to keep any of them from coming too close.
              Bromm looked for Isenna, but could not see her until the door to the forecastle opened and she stepped out, still wet from her shower and chained by her wrists. The big orc who had guarded the gangplank pushed her along to her seat where she awaited Kannad. Bromm quietly inserted himself into the crowd of gawking sailors. Kannad took his time with all the patience of an artist, and when he was done Bromm could see that he had summoned up the most beautiful form of each woman. Even Isenna looked more desirable, though her beauty was dimmed by the morose expression on her face. 
              Kannad stepped back to admire his work and nodded. With a clap of his hands, he waved the sailors back to work. Few obeyed. Karnote emerged from his cabin, followed by Dawhy and three men carrying chests on poles. Kannad summoned his guards and they began chaining the slave girls together at the wrists. Lukodo stepped forward to join them, and Bromm reached out to catch his shoulder.
              “Let me accompany you,” Bromm said quickly, surprising even himself. “I want to see the interior halls of this place.”
              Lukodo considered a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. Bring your weapons, follow the captain’s lead, and don’t start anything once when inside. Dwarf justice is harsher than the captain’s own.”
              Bromm nodded. He and Lukodo waited while the girls were shackled and the gangplank cleared of gawkers. When at last the crowd on the wharf had been pushed back, Dawhy hefted a riding crop and slapped it across the lead girl’s bare bottom. With a squeal and a start, the column began to move. Bromm fell in behind Lukodo as they ushered the procession of naked girls down the gangplank to the cheers of the onlookers. 
              With Karnote at the head and Dawhy at the rear, the gaggle of sailors and slave girls wound its way through the streets. Every block, passersby stopped to gawk and leer, hollering and making ribald gestures or suggestions. They leaned out of windows and over rooftops to watch the procession go by. Bromm was amazed by the spectacle of it all. Even in Torvuls’, where the Slavers’ Walk was a daily attraction, a procession of naked slave girls did not cause such a stir. Dwarves made up most of the crowd, but humans joined in with as much excitement. Bromm even spied a few vislings and elven-blooded men in the crowds. 
              The girls for their part walked with bowed heads, their eyes fixed on the cobblestones they walked on. Bromm tried to catch Isenna’s attention, but she ignored him as well as she ignored the jeers and taunts of the gawkers.
              Walking became harder as the slope increased and soon they came to the great gate at the rear wall of the cavern. Four dwarves in thick plate armor stood guard, watched over by unseen sentries behind loopholes in the barbican above. Karnote presented a calligraphed pass to the lead sentry, who nodded and waved to someone in the murder holes above the gate. There was a brief pause, and then the gates began to swing inward. There was no rattling of chains or squealing of rusted gears, Bromm noted. Dwarven expertise did not stop at weapons and armor.
              The gate opened and the party passed beneath it to stand before another gate. The first gate swung closed behind them and only then did the next gate begin to open. There were sentries here as well, but they were alert and spared no more than a passing glance at the naked women who shuffled past them. 
              Once the second gate was open, Karnote set off and Dawhy whipped the girls into motion again. they made their way into a wide hallway now, leaving the open expanse of the cavern behind. The roof was lower here, for this was clearly no natural cavern. The dwarves had hewn and carved all four sides of these halls, and Bromm had the same sensation as walking down one of Torvuls’ main streets, except that there was no sky above him. The tunnels sloped upwards into the depths of the mountain and the going was slow for the girls had spent many days chained up in the hold.
              Thrice, they stopped to catch their breath and were urged onward by Dawhy’s whip. Bromm stole a look at Isenna and saw that her face was streaked by tears that ran black with her eyeliner. He touched what he hoped was a comforting hand to her shoulder.
              “Don’t be afraid,” Bromm said, trying his best to be soothing. “You are the prettiest one here, you’ll likely end up in a dwarf lord’s private harem.”
              Isenna said nothing in reply, but she choked back a sob. Bromm said nothing further, for he could help no more.
              The column entered a large square and the ceiling rose some fifty feet. Overlooking the square was a large stone edifice, seemingly cut straight from the rock, with gaudy stained-glass windows and a copper-leafed door. Oil lamps out front bathed the stone in a warm glow, illuminating a series of murals that showed dwarves mating with women. They had arrived. 
              Karnote called the column to a halt in the square. Dawhy drew the guards up close around their charges and Bromm took up a place at Isenna’s side. She hardly noticed him, her blue eyes fixed on the square’s carved stone floor. The captain marched up to the doors, which swung open to greet him. Three dwarves in fine silks stood behind the open doors, beckoning. Karnote strode in without sparing a glance behind him. Dawhy and his dreaded whip spurred the column forward again.
              They entered a grand foyer, floored in white marble with dull red veins running through it and roofed in beaten bronze held up by polished oaken columns. A set of ironbound double doors led deeper into the guildhouse while four more doors stood open, leading to hallways connected to yet more rooms. Karnote lined up his slaves against the wall and waited in the center of the foyer.
              After a lengthy wait, the double doors swung open, and they all marched through to a lavish salon. The salon was split-level, with a large central pit in the middle around a stage. Couches and small tables were scattered all around the room and a series of dining tables were set along one wall. To Bromm’s surprise, the rear of the salon was open to the outside, and sunlight streamed in from a terraced balcony. Potted plants decorated the terrace, as if the buried-hall-dwelling dwarves had attempted to plant a garden on the slopes of their mountain. 
              Karnote made his way down into the central pit, where he was greeted by a gaggle of richly dressed dwarves. The girls were lined up against the railing above the pit, looking down on the men who would haggle over their price. Karnote seated himself on a cushioned couch across from the dwarves.
              “This isn’t good,” Lukodo murmured over Bromm’s shoulder. “That isn’t our usual man.”
              “What do you mean?” Bromm asked, somewhat overwhelmed by the luxurious salon, not to mention the sudden sunlight.
              “Karnote has been getting a good price on wives from his friend in the guild, but he is not here.”
              “I would like to speak with Ranugan,” Karnote said below them. “He and I have a longstanding relationship.”
              The dwarves said nothing for a while, exchanging significant looks between them. At last, one spoke. He wore a deep blue robe and had braided gold into his thick beard. 
              “Ranugan is no longer in charge. He was voted out last month. The Guild was unhappy with how much he has been paying for wives.”
              Karnote shifted uneasily in his seat. 
              “He and I had reached a deal.”
              “You and he had,” the dwarf agreed. “But he no longer speaks for the Guild, and the Guild will no longer honor his agreement.”
              “What is the new price?” Karnote demanded. Bromm could see that Dawhy was pacing uneasily, gently slapping his whip against his open palm.
              “We will pay thirty minae per head.”
              “Ranugan offered forty minae,” Karnote said icily, “and more for the pretty ones.”
              “As I have said, Ranugan is no longer buying for the Guild,” the dwarf replied casually, leaning back on his cushioned couch. “Thirty minae each. I see nineteen here, so that makes your cargo worth five hundred seventy minae.” 
              Karnote leaned forward with his hands on the glass-topped table between them.
              “I have been bringing the Guild wives for twenty-five years. Surely, you do not mean to insult me with a measly thirty minae per woman.”
              Lukodo leaned in a whispered in Bromm’s ear. “Look, over there, they’ve left a door open. If you want to get a look at how dwarves live, now’s your chance.”
              Bromm looked where Lukodo indicated and saw that the man was right. A door to a side room had been left just ajar and through it, he could hear voices. As Karnote and the guildsmen haggled, Bromm stole away from the group to peer through the door. 
              In the next room was a salon much like the one in which Bromm stood, only far less luxurious. The couches and benches were more thinly cushioned, the lighting was dimmer, and it was not open to the sky. Dwarves, commonborn by the look of them, filled the room. Most of them were naked, with their hairy, thickly muscled bodies on display all around the room. Directly in front of the door Bromm peered through, a young woman lay on a couch while a dwarf fucked her from behind. He was short, stout, and hairy, like all his kin, with a braided beard that hung down low enough to hide his cock if he wanted. However, in this instance it was draped over the girl’s naked butt as he fucked her eagerly. Behind him waited four more dwarves, all naked and stroking their cocks eagerly as they waited for their turns.
              The girl clutched the edge of the couch in a white-knuckled grip, her eyes wide as the dwarf slammed his cock into her again and again. He slapped her ass, leaving another red handprint on her pale bottom, and roared mightily as he came. Sagging forward, he crouched over her for a moment, cock still inside, and panted heavily. The next dwarf in line approached, clapped him on the shoulder and none-too-gently pulled him away. No sooner had the girl been vacated than the next dwarf thrust himself inside her. He took up where his companion had left off, his thick cock squelching in his predecessor’s cum. 
              Behind them, Bromm could see a score of other girls throughout the room, all in the same state of being used. For each wife, there were at least two dwarves waiting to fuck them, and as he watched a satisfied dwarf stride confidently from the salon he was replaced by another dwarf, naked, erect, and hungry for carnal pleasures. In the middle of the wide salon, one woman cried out and pushed away the dwarves pounding her. Her plump round ass was red and cum dripped from her holes. Her makeup was running and her hair a mess. She dismounted the dwarf beneath her and crouched exhausted on her couch.
              A liveried attendant appeared and quickly ushered her out of the salon. As soon as she left her couch, another woman appeared. Nude, freshly bathed and oiled, her hair coiffed, she was set upon by the hungry dwarves like a lamb among wolves. She had barely reached the couch before she had a dwarf’s cock between her legs and another in her mouth. Calloused hands grabbed at her little breasts and dwarves whooped and hollered, hips pumping wildly as they fucked her in her mouth, between her legs, and between her little breasts.
              Bromm had seen enough. He backed away from the door and stole back to Lukodo and Isenna. Below them, negotiation had failed and Karnote was standing up. Angrily, he pointed at the lead dwarf and snarled “You are a miser, sir, and you will learn to regret it. My price is thirty-seven per head, forty-five for the pretty ones, and not an obol less on any of them! I will take my women back to the White Shepherd and wait until you come to your senses. Good day to you!”
              The captain turned and stormed up the steps to Dawhy. Behind him, the dwarves exchanged bemused looks and shrugged, palms upraised. 
              “You heard me,” Karnote growled at Dawhy before the latter could begin to form words. “Back to the ship. They’ll come around.”
              Leading his captives by the chain, Karnote furiously stomped out of the guildhouse and back into the square. When he emerged leading a procession of naked women behind him, onlookers in the square broke out in boos of disapproval. Karnote stopped at the base of the guildhouse steps and marshaled his prisoners.
              “Good people of Deephold, your Wives’ Guild has broken our agreement. They seek to cheat me of my hard-earned silver. I toiled and bled for these prisoners, and until they meet my reasonable demands, I will be waiting, with your wives, aboard my ship!”
              With that, he yanked on the chain and marched out of the square. Boos and curiosity followed them, along with the usual leers and jeers, all the way back down the halls of Deephold to the gates. The sentries there asked no questions as they cycled the procession through their gates, though a few bushy eyebrows were raised as they passed.
              They passed beneath the outer gate and into the cavern, where the crowds that had watched their ascent had long since dispersed. Yet they came flooding back as word spread, taunting and catcalling the naked women as they were marched past. Two dwarven youths attempted to infiltrate the column and grab one of the women, only to be caught and beaten by the guards. 
              Upon reaching the Shepherd, Karnote went straight into his cabin while Dawhy returned the women to their cage. Sahat and Imre approached Bromm as he stood by the gangplank.
              “Why are they back?” Imre asked. 
              “The dwarves wouldn’t meet the captain’s price. His friend at the guild was removed and the replacement doesn’t seem to like him.”
              “Well, shit,” Sahat muttered. “Where are we going to sell them now? Are we going to sail all the way back to Torvuls?”
              “Perhaps Sostrum,” Imre suggested. “The Empire is always hungry for more slaves.”
              “The captain thinks they will meet his price eventually,” Lukodo put in. “He means to wait until they do.”
              “And while we sit here, collecting our regular wage, we’re missing out on the proceeds from capturing and selling more slaves. Damn it all,” Sahat grumbled, “We should be casting off to capture more slaves by now!”
              “We were separating from the crew here anyway,” Bromm reminded him, but Sahat brushed him off. 
              “This was supposed to be a good opportunity, Bromm,” Sahat replied.
              “Well, it isn’t one now,” Imre complained. “Bromm was right, we never should have gotten involved in slave trading again. It’s only brought us trouble.”
              “So, what do you mean to do?” Sahat challenged, “wander the quay until you find another ship desperate for sailors? You won’t find a good deal that way.”
              Bromm had no reply and merely looked around the ship. News of the broken deal was spreading quickly and the crew was once again discontented. Men who had spent their wages on the women in the hold in expectation of being paid soon were now feeling impoverished. It was less than an hour before the feud between Urgan and Darre erupted again. Bromm saw it break out from his perch in the rigging.
              One of Urgan’s men took offense to a sideways looked and knocked another sailor overboard with an oar. Dawhy took charge of the situation quickly, separating the combatants sending the offender to the mast for twenty lashes. The man overboard was rescued by a passing skiff and returned to the Shepherd, dripping wet and fully irate.
Though Karnote twice appeared to reassure his crew, no representative from the guild arrived to accede to his demands.
              That night, Bromm found himself lying awake in his hammock. He had thought to pay for Isenna again, for her newly made-up face had ignited the lust in him once again, but he could tell she had no more patience for him. The other sailors were not so picky despite their financial insecurity, and Kannad was reaping the benefits of their unexpected delay. 
              Bromm stared hard at the deck planks above him, thinking of Isenna’s words and her tears on the march to the Wives’ Guild. He thought too of the girl on the couch, fucked by a gang of hairy, bearded dwarves. He saw no reason why he could not remember her face, but every time she appeared in his memory, she wore Isenna’s face instead of her own.
              Between the insecurity, tension, and the sound of men eagerly fucking the slaves, Bromm took a long time to fall asleep.
 
              Rising in the morning, Bromm found Imre sitting on the gunwale by the gangplank, looking out over the busy harbor.
              “Any word from the guild?” Bromm asked.
              “None at all. The captain remains steadfast, however.” Bromm scowled. He wanted to be done with this job as soon as possible. Isenna’s despairing words had haunted his dreams again. 
              “We’re going to die here,” Imre muttered.
              “You sound like Sahat,” Bromm remarked. He sighed. “Let’s get a drink. Find the others. Lukodo knows a place.”
              They all met again at Lukodo’s favorite watering hole, seated in the back around a wooden table carved with scenes of mountain-climbing dwarves and their goats. Their air was glum, but Bromm was finding his own cheer. 
              “I have been thinking,” he said as their conversation about Torvuls street food lulled.
              “That can’t be good,” Sahat muttered.
              “I may have a solution to our problems,” Bromm continued undisturbed. “And that solution is a change in command.”
              The others looked to him slowly, eyes narrow and suspicious. Lukodo seemed most receptive, while Sahat’s face was a mask of disapproval.
              “Talking of mutiny will get you thrown overboard if anyone else hears it,” Imre reminded him.
              “Then it’s a good thing I’m among friends. Think of it, why should we care for Karnote? He has failed us. His contact at the guild is gone, he is of no more use. He means to keep us here until the dwarves give in, but is there any more stubborn than a dwarf, especially when gold is involved? The captain will be the one to break eventually, that’s for certain.”
              “So you want to mutiny?” Tahavi asked mildly. He was pensively running a fingertip around the rim of his flagon, eyes distant.
              “It seems the best option,” Bromm replied. “Think of it, we would then have our own ship and be free to turn pirate. The Shepherd makes a better raider than a slaver, anyway.”
              “And what of the women? Sell them to the guild for their thirty minae?”
              Bromm’s face darkened. “I would set them free,” he said quietly.
              Sahat laughed. “All this because you’re sweet on a girl.”
              “Slaving has got us nowhere,” Bromm replied angrily. “This is an omen! Our adventures with slavers have all come to naught. Instead, we should be pirates, and buy what we want.”
              Sahat made to reply, but Lukodo raised a hand.
              “It would seem an opportune moment. Karnote’s hold over the crew is fraying, there is dissension in the ranks. The feud between Urgan and Darre is ready to boil over. It will make a useful wedge.”
              “We might ally with one faction and promise the destruction of the other as incentive,” Imre mused aloud.               “Promise to make Urgan or Darre first mate or bosun of the new crew, with extra shares of the spoils.”
              “And first sail for Sanctum Port to make good our losses in the crew,” Tahavi added.
              “And to set the women ashore,” Bromm added.
              Sahat leaned forward, seemingly coming around. “Then we would have our own ship, fitted for raiding. But who would be captain?”
              “Perhaps make our ally captain?” Pyet suggested. Bromm shook his head.
              “No, it should be one of us. Captains who rise by mutiny often purge those who put them there as potential future mutineers. We could not trust him to do so to us.”
              “Which of us would make a good captain?” Tahavi asked. They exchanged looks between their number, none wishing to volunteer and look presumptuous.
              “Alright,” Pyet said at last, “I say Bromm should be captain. He has always been the bravest of us. He can read, he can do numbers, and he’s always been lucky. He may be young, but he’s not steered us wrong so far.”
              There was a moment of silence as they all considered the proposal, then Lukodo spoke.
              “I have no objection. It is his plan, after all.”
              “Very well,” Imre said. “If no one else has objections?” He looked around the table, “A toast to Captain Bromm of the White Shepherd.”
              They ordered another round of drinks from the bar and set to the business of plotting.
              “The tides were strong as we came in, and there is no wind in the cavern,” Bromm said, looking to Lukodo.               “How do ships leave port here?”
              “The early mornings bring a strong tide that pulls ships out. You’ve noticed all ships take extra care that they are securely moored? That is why.”
              “Then we will make our move then,” Bromm decided. “Lukodo, I am relying on you to sway either Urgan or Darre.”
              “Urgan,” Lukodo decided, “He was the wronged party, and will fight harder than Darre. Karnote must be disposed of, or else he will come looking for us, and Dawhy as well. But the rest are just contracted sailors, and will fall in line once the captain is dead.”
              “We should make our move before the crew wakes, with knives and swords. No guns, lest we wake the whole harbor and bring the dwarves down on us. Sahat, Tahavi, take control of the armory. Pyet, take control of the captives’ cage.”
              “What about Kannad?” Pyet asked. Bromm considered for a moment. He found the man agreeable and mercenary in his nature, but his treatment of the captives rankled with Bromm. Despite his love of carnal pleasures, the demeanors of whoremongers was often repugnant to Bromm. “Kill him, and redistribute the money he took from pimping the girls among our loyal crewmates. That will win them over.”
              They all nodded, and Imre called it a ruthless move befitting a pirate captain. 
              “Alright, one more round, then back to the Shepherd to make our preparations.”
 
              Lukodo came to Bromm that night and assured him that Urgan was persuaded, so Bromm went to sleep excited for the first time since leaving Sanctum Port. He was awoken in the dark of the early morning by Pyet, who handed him a dagger and smiled.
              “Urgan is waiting for you on deck,” Pyet whispered. They crept from their hammocks onto the deck, passing Kannad who was asleep on his stool. On the deck, Urgan waited at the forecastle with six of his companions, all armed with knives. Carefully stepping over sleeping crewmen on the topdeck, Bromm joined him outside the forecastle’s door.
              “Are you ready?” the dwarf asked, and Bromm nodded. Urgan took a deep breath. “Leave Darre and his rats to me. I won’t be denied my revenge. Karnote is in his cabin. If you want your captain’s hat, you have to earn it.”
              Bromm nodded again. The dwarf extended his hand. 
              “Shall we begin?” Bromm grasped his hand firmly and shook it. Urgan smiled a predator’s smile. With a wave to his companions, they went belowdecks again. 
              “Pyet, get the others up here and see to Kannad. Make sure the women are not harmed in all of thing.”
              Pyet nodded, and went below. As soon as he did, Lukodo, Imre, Sahat, and Tahavi joined Bromm on deck. 
              “Quickly, let’s get Karnote and be done with this all,” Bromm whispered. With hurried nods, they crept across the deck to the door of the captain’s cabin. Bromm tried the handle and found it barred.
              “Damn,” he whispered. “What do we do?”
              “Break it down,” Imre suggested.
              “You’ll wake half the crew!” Sahat shot back in a harsh whisper. Their dilemma was suddenly resolved by shouts from below. Bromm smashed his heel into the cabin’s door and the latch burst open, but the door was blocked by something behind it. Inside, he could hear Karnote shouting Armannaise curses.
              “Damn it all!” Bromm cried, “Help me push it open!” the five of them shoved hard at the door and heaved it open. Only then did Bromm realize the nature of its obstruction. The big orc who had guarded the gangplank had been sleeping across the threshold as a bodyguard. When the door flung open, he roared a battlecry. 
Bromm narrowly avoided losing his head to the orc’s falchion, which cut a divot from the wood of the doorjamb. The orc filled the doorway with his bulk, his face a mask of fury as he dared them to test his reach. Bromm fell back in fright but quickly marshaled his fear. He needed to act like a captain to be a captain. He drew out the pistol from his swordbelt.
              The orc rushed at them before Bromm could level the pistol and Lukodo slashed at the orc’s exposed flank, wounding him in the hip. The falchion was parried by Tahavi’s broadsword, exposing him for the killing stroke of Sahat and his shamshir. 
              As the orc fell to the deck, there was the sharp report of a pistol. Tahavi cried out in pain, and fell clutching his shoulder. Bromm looked to his fallen friend, bleeding on the deck next to the dying orc, and then to the source of the shot. Karnote threw the spent pistol onto his bed and went for another. Bromm leveled his own pistol and fired.               His shot struck the captain square in the back and the man went down.
              “Find the surgeon, and make sure Urgan doesn’t kill him!” Bromm shouted as he ran toward Karnote. The captain was mortally wounded, but still crawled for his pistol on the far side of the cabin. As he reached for it, Bromm planted a boot on his back, right where he had shot him. Karnote cried out in pain.
              “Tarnilaen curse you, traitor!” the captain cried out, his fingers brushing against the butt of the pistol. “I’ll have you keel-hauled for this.”
              “Unlikely,” Bromm replied, “Though I do intend to inspect the keel up close, now that this is my ship and my responsibility.” Bromm leaned in close, readying his dagger. “It’s nothing personal, but I never saw myself as a slaver.” 
He plunged the dagger into Karnote’s neck and the captain died with a strangled scream. Bromm stood up and wiped the blade clean. He took the pistol Karnote had died trying to reach and thrust it into his belt before stepping out on deck again. Only Imre remained.
              “Find someone to clean up the mess in my new cabin,” Bromm said with a smile. “Let’s go see how everything is going down below.” 
              Imre smiled back and turned toward the hatch, but no sooner than he did, someone grabbed Bromm’s leg. He felt something hard and round press into his inner thigh and looked down to see Guldrin holding a pistol to his leg.
              “You always were a troublemaker, Bromm,” Guldrin sneered through his yellow teeth. “but I’ve got you now.”
Imre turned and froze. Guldrin cast off his bedding and pulled himself to a sitting position. “Why?” Guldrin demanded,               “Is it all for that little slut belowdecks? There’s a hundred prettier girls out there for you.”
              “Aye,” Bromm lied, head spinning as he searched for a way out. “I could not bear the thought of her living out her days as a breeder for ugly things like these dwarves.”
              “Well, once you’re gone, I’ll make sure every dwarf in this kingdom gets a turn on her. Just for your sake, you see.”
              Bromm’s eyes narrowed. But he did not give in.
              “Guldrin, you’ve got me over a barrel. Let’s talk.”
              “Oh, now you want to talk?” Guldrin laughed. Below, they heard the screams of a dying man. “I’ve tried to be nice to you before, but now you want to talk just because I have a pistol to your leg. I could pull this trigger and blow your leg halfway off. You’d bleed to death before your man reaches me with his dagger. Bromm looked to Imre, who had a hand wrapped around a dagger hilt in his belt. Bromm shrugged and Imre flattened his lips against each other.
              “With or without me, there will be a new captain of the Shepherd. A captain who will have many vacant spots to fill. Perhaps you’d like to be bosun? Or first mate?”
              “A position that would last only as long as it takes for me to turn my back, no doubt,” Guldrin sneered.
              “Perhaps. Or I could take Karnote’s treasure chest and hand it to you as I put you ashore. There’s no shortage of ships in Deephold, surely one of them would take you aboard. And there’s good beer to be drunk while you wait.”
              Guldrin considered for a moment. His eyes flickered to Imre, clutching a dagger. From below, the sounds of battle were dying down. The mutiny hung less in the balance with each passing heartbeat.
              “A silver talent, and your word to put me ashore unharmed,” Guldrin said, “and I’ll let you go.”
              Bromm took a deep breath. Did Karnote even keep that much silver aboard? he wondered. He lowered his hand toward Guldrin.
              “We have an accord,” he said. Slowly and suspiciously, Guldrin released Bromm’s leg and raised reached up to clasp hands.
              His heart pounding, Bromm thrust his hand between the lock and hammer, jamming the firing mechanism. Guldrin’s eyes widened, and he pulled the trigger. The hammer snapped forward, pinching Bromm’s hand between it and the pan, but it did not spark. That was only small consolation to Bromm, whose hand hurt fearful strong. He cried out, but wrapped his fingers around the pistol anyway. With a roar of pain and exertion, he ripped the weapon from Guldrin’s hands as Imre charged. Guldrin scrambled backwards against the gunwale as Bromm turned the pistol around in his hands and reset the hammer.
              He pointed the pistol into Guldrin’s face. The old sea rat’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open.
              “Wait,” he pleaded, “we had an---” Bromm fired. The shot tore through Guldrin’s head, splattering the gunwale with his blood and bone. Bromm raised the smoking pistol toward the sky.
              “Good riddance,” Imre spat. 
 
              Belowdecks, Urgan had seized control with speed and violence. A dozen men lay dead or dying, Kannad among them. The whoremonger lay by his overturned stool, his slashed throat bleeding into a pool of blood by Pyet’s boots. Throughout the hold, men lay dead on the deck or tangled up in their hammocks, but Urgan and his men stood victorious. 
              “Darre?” Bromm asked, and Urgan pointed toward a bloody tangle of a hammock. A leg and armed hung limply from the mess, dripping blood onto the deck.
              “Bastard woke up with my knife at his throat,” the dwarf reported with great satisfaction. “Everyone left alive has agreed to the change of command.”
              “Indeed,” Bromm said. “Pyet, open Kannad’s chest and give the men their money back. Imre, cast off the hawsers, for we must be clear of here before anyone realizes what has happened.”
              “Aye, aye, Captain,” they replied. Bromm smiled. Captain, he said to himself. Captain at last. 
              Pyet took the keyring from Kannad’s corpse and opened the man’s sea chest, where a large, disorganized pile of coins greeted him. Lukodo selected men for duty while the rest lined up to receive their reward. 
              Bromm took the key ring from Pyet and opened the cage. The women crowded against the far side of the hull again, huddled together in fear. Bromm strode to Isenna, boldly standing at the front of the crowd, and held up the key.
              “I am your savior after all,” he said as he unlocked her collar. “You will never see the inside of a dwarfhold.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and she shed her chain. Wrapping white arms around Bromm, she kissed his cheek.
              “Gods be praised,” she whispered. “Gods be praised.”
              Bromm unlocked the other women’s collars as well, freeing them to at least walk about the caged area. He set Pyet as a guard against any sailors forcing their way into the cage, but before he could do anything else, Urgan came to him.
              “We’ve released the hawsers and are floating on the outbound tide, but there is a party of soldiers on the wharf.”
              Bromm hurried to the quarterdeck and saw a score of dwarves in armor, hefting halberds and arbalests as they formed into tight ranks on the quay.
              “Come back to shore!” their leader shouted, “We’re from the garrison!”
              “I cannot,” Bromm called back. He wracked his brain to think of why. “We’ve put down a mutiny, but there are more mutineers ashore. We must make sail right away!”
              The leader of the company raised a bullhorn to his lips as the Shepherd floated further away. “We will catch these mutineers if you help us.”
              “Why do they care so much?” Sahat muttered. “This is no concern of theirs.”
              “They’re from the Guild,” Urgan declared. “They must be.”
              “Do you know them?” Bromm asked. 
              “No, but if I were them, I’d force my way aboard, arrest us all as mutineers and impound the wives as proceeds of criminal activity. Send us to the mines and take the wives for free.”
              “We cannot let them aboard,” Imre said. 
              “Don’t worry,” Bromm replied. “They’ve no boats, and they can’t swim in all that armor.”
              “We may have other problems,” Sahat observed. He was looking to the far side of the cavern, where dwarves scrambled over the iron shell of the Black Colossus. 
              “They’re bringing the Beast to bear,” Sahat said ominously. 
              “It can’t be that fast,” Bromm said. He had nothing on which to base this but his own hopes, but Lukodo came to his rescue.
              “It might make six knots if they push it hard, but it can sail against the wind.”
              “The wind will be coming straight in off the sea,” Bromm reasoned, “We’ll have to tack hard against the wind at close reach, but if we can reach open water and sail across the wind, they’ll have to give up the chase.”
              “They’ll smash us to pieces with those guns first,” Sahat said morosely. “If the fortress guns don’t get us first.”
              “If we’re as doomed as you think we are, you’re welcome to hop in a longboat and give yourself up,” Bromm replied. Sahat snorted.
              “I’m not going anywhere. If this is to be the end, then so be it.”
              The Shepherd neared the cavern mouth and the current sped up, whisking them through the opening at speeds near full sail. Thankfully, the sentries above them were unaware of the circumstances of their departure and raised no objection. Once through, Bromm ordered the sails unfurled and the Shepherd began beating to the wind as best she could. Looking back through the mouth of the cavern, Bromm could not make out the Beast, but he felt a powerful sense of dread close its hands around his heart. They needed to go faster.
              “Gather up the corpses and throw them all overboard!” Bromm shouted, “We need to cast off weight!”
              “Overboard?!” Imre gasped, “Without burial? These men committed no fault but to be in our way, they do not deserve to go to Tarnilaen.”
              Bromm considered. Burial rites would take too long, and the Black Colossus would emerge from the cavern mouth in pursuit at any moment. But Imre was right. These men deserved a better fate than damnation to the Maw of the Deep.
              “Pile them in a longboat,” Sahat suggested, “and set the boat adrift. Someone else will find them and give them the rites. If we’re lucky, the dwarves will stop and pull them in. If no one does, it won’t be our fault.”
Imre was unconvinced, but Bromm gave the order. The dead were piled into a spare longboat and left to drift away. Caught on the current, it began to drift back toward the cavern opening. As it neared, the massive, gray iron bulk of the Beast of Deephold lumbered into view. Bromm felt his breath catch in his throat. 
              Belching black smoke from its iron towers, the Black Colossus emerged from the cave. The longboat piled high with corpses drifted directly into its path, but the gray monster never altered course. The longboat pulled in toward the hull, where it was caught and sucked down, wood splintering and bloody bodies flying. Soon enough, it was gone and only splinters and corpses floated on the frothing water.
              “A cruel fate,” Imre whispered. “Kanaron watch over them and save them from the Maw.”
              Bromm tried his best to remain stoic. Was there a better way? He wondered. There must have been. Their weight could not have been so much that I could not have waited to say the rites.
              But what was done could not be undone. He put his trust in the fishermen who had plied the harbor’s waters and rescued the man thrown overboard during the brawl two days before, a man whose corpses now drifted on the waves in need of rescue once again. Someone will save them, Bromm told himself. But doubt crept in again. Save them? As I did?
              His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden boom of a cannon, and a geyser erupted in the waves ten yards off the port bow.
              “That’s a fine first shot!” Imre barked as the crew on deck scrambled to action stations.
“Helm, take an irregular course!” Bromm cried. “Don’t let them get the range on us or we’ll all be headed to join the dead!”
              Bromm looked astern to the Colossus. As Shepherd tacked against the wind, turning a straight line into a lengthy zig-zag course, the slower Beast rumbled straight ahead, gaining on them as they fought to keep wind flowing across their sails without running aground on the shores.
              Amid scrambles and shouts, Bromm heard the gunports open beneath him.
              “Lukodo, tell them not to waste good powder. A pair of twelve-pounders won’t even dent that thing.”
“We might as well have something ready. They’re going to overtake us at this rate,” Sahat grumbled. Bromm saw that his dour friend was right. While faster overall, the Shepherd was being overtaken as it tacked. The Beast was close enough to open her gunports and roll cannons forward to fire. 
              “Helm, take us further into the shallows. The Beast is heavy on the draft, she won’t be able to follow there.”
              “There’s not a lot of shallows to hide in,” Imre observed, peering through his spyglass. “We’re as like to run aground as to escape.”
              “Get to your perch and call out before we hit the shallows,” Bromm ordered and Imre hurried to obey. I could get used to this captain thing, Bromm thought. Once again, however, his thoughts were interrupted by cannon fire. 
              The Beast’s heavy guns roared and four massive cannonballs shot overheard, nearly decapitating a crewman on the deck, severing part of the mainmast’s ratlines and splashing into the water well beyond them. Bromm stood stock still in fright. 
              “Tell the crew to throw off anything they can afford to lose,” Bromm whispered as his wits returned to him. He looked to Sahat, who stepped forward to receive the order. “We’ve got to ride lighter and higher in the water. Oh,” he grabbed Sahat’s arm as he moved to relay the order, “Don’t let anyone throw the women overboard. I know how sailors get at times like this.” 
              Sahat nodded and climbed down from the quarterdeck. Bromm went to the portside rail as they ventured further into the shallows. Another salvo from the fortress guns tore past, punching a hole in the topsail as it did. Bromm grimaced. They needed that wind. 
              He peered down into the dark water below. Beneath the Shepherd now it was a cold, dark blue, but lighter quickly as it neared the white sands of the shore. As the ship plowed further into the shallow water, the bottom gradually rose to meet them. 
              “Boulder, dead ahead!” Imre cried from the crow’s nest, and the helmsman adjusted course to avoid it. The Beast remained in deep water, firing on them as they attempted to navigate two threats. A final salvo boomed from the fortress guns and fell well short as the Shepherd passed out of range. Bromm allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. That was one threat escaped, though the more dangerous one still pursued them.
              “Stay to the shallows,” Bromm called out over his shoulder, “Their guns are powerful, but inaccurate at range. We’ll be safer here.”
              Looking down the deck, he saw that his men believed him. Which made it all the more unfortunate that the gods chose that moment for the Beast to score its first hit.
              A heavy cannonball smashed across the forecastle, bursting apart the copper piping of the showers, killing two men outright, and flinging deadly splinters the length of the deck. Four holes were torn in the foresail, and it yanked loose of its ropes.
              “Get that sail under control!” Bromm shouted over the din. “You three, get the wounded below to the surgeon.” The men jumped into action. Two men caught the flapping rope and managed to tie the foresail down again. It would be hard to adjust, but for now they just needed it to stay as it was. 
              White Shepherd twisted her way back and forth in the shallows, running as close to the shore as Bromm dared while enduring the iron monster’s fire. At last, Bromm could see the bay widening. They would soon be able to sail straighter, and faster, leaving the Beast behind them. 
              “Almost there, men! Hang on!” 
              Another salvo roared in. Two shots splashed just off the hull, showering the deck in a great gout of seawater. A third shot blasted apart the ship’s boat and a portside cannon as they sat on the deck. But it was the fourth shot that punched clean through the hull, killing three men beneath and holing the opposite side beneath the waterline.
              “We’re taking on water!” someone yelled from below. Bromm ran to the hatch, where he saw a work crew frantically trying to repair the hull, but the hold was already filling with water. Bromm descended the steps and grabbed a bucket. He scooped up as much water off the deck as he could and ran topside again. Throwing the water overboard, he stopped and stared.
              They had passed into a shallow lagoon, blocked off on three sides by sandbars. To either side and dead ahead, they were trapped. The only way out was astern, into the teeth of the Beast’s cannons. They were trapped and now running out of room. 
              “Bromm! Captain!” Bromm heard a voice from above and looked to Imre in the crow’s nest. “We can make it to the open sea through that gap to the east!” Following Imre’s finger, Bromm saw a narrow gap between the sandbar edge of the lagoon and the shore. He dared to hope that it was wide enough to let the Shepherd pass through. 
              “Helm, make for that gap!” Bromm ordered, his finger outstretched and pointing to the narrow passage that he hoped would be their salvation. “Keep bailing, we have to keep our speed!”
              Their little brig ran as fast as she could, bracketed again and again by the Colossus’ guns, though she did not hit them again. The gap in the sandbars grew in size as they approached, but not by as much as Bromm had hoped. It’s not wide enough, he realized.
              “It’s not wide enough!” he cried.
              “It’s wide enough, Captain!” Imre called back, “I can see it from here.” He muttered something after that, but Bromm could not make it out. 
              “Look out!” some sailor cried, “We’re going to run aground!”
              Bromm ran to the bow and looked down into the water. It was clear and blue; he could see the sandy bottom rushing by close beneath them. Too close. It’s wide enough alright, he thought to himself, but it’s not deep enough.
              White Shepherd lurched to a halt, and Bromm nearly fell from his feet.
              “Damn!” he cried, “We’re stuck!”
              Urgan appeared at the gunwale, peering overboard at the sandbar. 
              “We’re just too deep on the draft,” the dwarf cried. “If we lose some weight, we might be able to float over it!”
              “Throw our spare shot overboard!” Bromm cried, and the crew rushed to empty the shot lockers overboard. Another shot from Black Colossus struck the sandbar beneath them, stinging men on the deck with hot sand. Another shot blasted apart the quarterdeck’s rail, but the helmsman was miraculously unharmed. 
              “Captain, we’re still too heavy! We need to lose more weight!”
              “Damn it all.” Bromm kicked the deck with his toe and cursed again in pain. “The cannons, throw away the cannons!”
              “We’ll have a hard time being pirates without cannons,” Sahat grumbled as he and six other crewmen unfastened a gun from its ropes.
              “It’ll be harder if that monster blasts us to pieces!” Bromm shot back. “Lift, you lazy sea rats! Lift!”
              They did as he commanded and heaved the gun into the surf. White Shepherd lurched forward a half pace and stopped again.
              “We’re almost clear!” Urgan shouted from the gunwale. “Throw away another!”
              Bromm rushed to join them, slashing at the cannon’s ropes with his sword in impatience. They heaved the cannon overboard and were rewarded with another lurch of the deck beneath them. The keel rose from of the sand and White Shepherd floated free again at last. 
              “Hurrah!” the crew cheered. 
              “We’re clear, hard to port and go to full sail!” Bromm cried, then collapsed against the rail, exhausted and relieved. White Shepherd turned away from Black Colossus and her sails unfurled. Catching the wind across her deck at last, she leapt forward on the open sea. The Beast did her best to follow and her guns boomed again and again, but the Shepherd was rapidly outpacing her. She began to belch a thicker column of smoke and cut through the waves faster, but still not fast enough. Under full sail and in good conditions, the brig made too much speed.
              No more shots struck home, and the dwarves’ iron monster fell further and further behind, until at last she gave up the chase. The crew piled up to meet Bromm on the quarterdeck, and he adjusted his red, three-cornered hat on his head. His captain’s hat.
              “Well done, captain! We’d never had made it if it weren’t for you!”
              Bromm smiled and breathed another sigh of relief. “You have all performed very well. You’ve earned some rest when we reach Sanctum Port. We’ll see the women off somewhere safe and then we’re off to ply the trade lanes in search of the fattest of prizes, and the richest of hoards!”