Howdy y'all. Grab a snack and get comfortable in your chair, cause this chapter is a beast. That's not entirely my fault, however, as the lovely Lan-chan and the even lovelier Destral made considerable contributions. Yeah, it's long, and Shen isn't even in most of it, but I'm sure you're gonna love it anyways. So there.

Once again, if the chapter comes out all screwed up to you, mail me privately and I'll try to send you a better copy.

SPECIAL BONUS FUN: Guess which part was writting based off an IC script.

J

VI

Time seemed to be a very subjective quantity aboard the Iron Fang. For Bulix and the Skenicians, each minute seemed like another day. The northerners spent nearly all of their time in the supply room in the ship's hull that served as their quarters, hovering protectively over their wounded comrades and the explosives they had brought from the Stalwart as insurance for their safety. They very rarely went above deck, and Bulix gave his soldiers strict orders never to leave their quarters alone. Two of the Skenician soldiers were women, one who's ribs had been shattered during the battle with the demon, and the councilman knew they would both be targets for the pirates. The less the Skenicians mingled with their hosts, the less potential fights. Always at the forefront of Bulix's thoughts was the fact that every day spent on the Iron Fang was another day they did not return to Skenic, and as Captain Sanders had said, they would be expecting him home soon. The councilman needed nothing more to worry about than that.

To Destral, time on the Iron Fang seemed little different from time on the Stalwart. Much to his own surprise, he found he enjoyed the pirate's company much more than he had enjoyed the Skenicians'. The swordsman wandered freely amongst the ragtag band of ocean bandits, the bandanna he had taken to wearing to hide his singed hair making him almost look like one of them. The pirates had been leery of him at first, and Destral had more than his share of potentially dangerous confrontations. After only a couple days, however, the pirates paid him little mind, and surrounded by their relaxed, sometimes boisterous little society Destral felt much more at ease than he had among the militant Skenicians. One of the pirates actually befriended the swordsman. Maoban, an older man who manned the wheel of the ship every night after the other pirates drank themselves to sleep, had countless highly exaggerated stories to tell about his travels. Destral was willing to listen, as unlike the other pirates the swordsman hadn't already heard all of Maoban's stories, and the portly older pirate was more than willing to talk. The off-worlder spent many evening on the deck of the ship, half listening to the pirate's story and half just wondering what he was going to do once the ship reached its destination.

The time seemed to race by for Shen. The young man spent most of his time with the Skenicians, as that was the only place not infested with pirates. Once it became clear that the pirates did not mean to immediately double cross them, Shen stopped wearing the technorg limb, ridding himself of the hunger that accompanied it. The situation remained quite dangerous, however. The pirates of Nova Libertalia and the Sinister Mafia had been bitter enemies for quite some time, and the young man knew recognition would mean death, possibly worse. His missing arm and eye would help him remain nameless, and at his request Destral and the Skenicians referred to him only as "Tobias", but the glances he sometimes caught from the pirate captain and his first mate made Shen wonder if he hadn't already been identified. Regardless of whether the captain knew who he was, each day took Shen closer to an even more dangerous situation. The ship was headed towards Nova Libertalia itself, where Shen would be leaping from the proverbial frying pan. If he wanted to survive he would need more than a good plan. He would need several of them.

Indifferent to how it was perceived, time continued to roll by. About a week had passed when one day a trio of pirates entered the Skenicians' quarters, an exceptionally rare occurrence. The lead pirate informed them that the captain wanted a word alone with Commander Bulix. After dismissing the soldiers' worry for him and leaving them some parting instructions, the blond Skenician left with the pirates. Knowing that something was afoot, Shen immediately sought out Destral. He found the swordsman above deck, leaning casually against a rail and idly tossing bits of an orange peel into the sea.

"Hey Tobias," Destral said as Shen approached, unable to keep himself from applying a bit of sarcasm to the assumed name. "You've been down there so long you missed the announcement. The lookout spotted some landmark or other. We should be in port in a day or so."

"I figured as much," Shen nodded as he joined Destral at the rail. "The captain just requested a private meeting with Councilman Bulix, probably to discuss what will become of us once we reach port."

"What will Bulix tell him?"

"The Skenicians will be looking for their own way home. You and I are officially on our own once we reach the town."

"Fine by me. You have any plans once we get there?"

"Not any that I like," the young man admitted.

"I have one."

Shen arched an eyebrow. "You do?"

Destral nodded. "I asked Maoban about how I might be able to find a ship to Ahren. He said he has some friend in the town who makes runs there, and occasionally take passengers, no questions asked. He even offered to introduce me. If you're interested..." He let the thought hang.

"Do you trust Maoban?"

"Yeah, as far as I trust anybody who calls himself a pirate. Maoban is just somebody's chubby old uncle. It's tough to believe he ever was the vicious pirate he plays himself up to be. I think he'll even keep it a secret from the other pirates, if I ask him. He doesn't seem to like the others much."

"You surprise me, Destral," Shen said with a slight grin. "You're quite well connected, for an off-worlder."

The swordsman shrugged. "Yeah, I get around."

It was late in the afternoon the following day when the Iron Fang was at last anchored in the port of Nova Libertalia. The main harbour was filled with many ships, and its borders were ringed by other vessels being careened, their barnacle encrusted hulls exposed to the open air for cleaning and repair. With a chorus of jubilant roars, the pirates came swarming out of the ship and onto the dock. The following minutes were chaos. Much of the crew was busy unloading the ship, and some were already negotiating their wages with the whores who worked the piers. Captain Gallagher and his first mate were busy dealing with the Skenicians. Thus, no one noticed as Shen, Destral, and Maoban quietly slipped away from the docks and disappeared into the harbor crowd, making all haste to distance themselves from the Iron Fang and its crew.

The city, if it merited the name, looked as though it had been put together piecemeal. The streets themselves were packed earth, and seemed as if they had been laid out, if any formal planning had been done at all, along what were the paths most traveled. The buildings themselves seemed to be made of scavenged materials, such as timber from shipwrecks, empty crates insulated with grass and dirt, planks hand hewn from local trees, and in some cases the remnants of whole ships deemed no longer seaworthy. Everything was excessively decorated, painted in bright colours or with designs along the themes of time, death, and debauchery. To judge by the smell, there were no sewers to speak of, and shallow gutters lined with slime and filth were all that served to wash the offal out to sea. Most of them emptied into cesspools disturbingly close to the docks. Destral and Shen both cringed as the stench hit them, though Maoban barely seemed to take notice.

The dark haired, paunch pirate lead the two further up the shore, where a haphazard scattering of large warehouses formed a semicircle around the piers. In those warehouses, the two visitors to the city imagined, the pirates held their seized cargoes before they sold them off for gold, rum, and the other lesser necessities of life, such as food. Past these were the many brothels and taverns, an easy stagger away from the residential areas, which, as Maoban explained to them, consisted mainly of large communal crash houses and the private residences of the more affluent and influential captains. There was a marketplace as well, a short stagger in the other direction, where pirates could barter their exotic loot for other exotic loot, weapons, food, and clothes.

Maoban lead the on a path that skirted around the marketplace, keeping to the alleys between the pubs. He was a big man, a bit taller than Shen, with a solid belly, a long black beard and wicked scars on his bulging forearms. The older pirate constantly looked over his shoulder, usually to impart some useless factoid about the city to his charges. Destral peered curiously towards the bustle of the market whenever he had a chance, wondering to himself if he might not find a replacement for Kalita amongst the pirate's wares. He realized with a heavy sigh, though, that he had nothing to barter with. Besides, his last attempt at bartering might have already cost him his two most treasured possessions. Shen, wearing a dark, hooded cloak over his green jacket to conceal his face, kept his eyes turned downward, never even looking at Maoban. His heart was pounding incessantly with fear of recognition. He was once more wearing the ruined half of his technorg arm, finding in spite of the accompanying hunger that he felt more secure with even half an arm than with nothing at all. The young man was in a dangerous situation, surrounded by enemies and forced to rely on someone he did not know. His options, however, seemed to be slim and none.

Leaving the more thickly populated area of the city, Maoban led them into a neighborhood of fine, brazen houses that spoke immediately of the city's upper class. They came finally to a fairly small two-story home gaudily painted with flags and banners from lands spanning all of Nu. Shen recognized many of them as Etherican: Brightsand, Ahren, Waveshore, even Evergreen. Maoban's knock on the door was answered quickly by a young girl, probably not even ten years old. Her hair and clothes were ragged and dirty, and her eyes had the cold glare of someone who had spent most of her life on the streets.

"Maoban," she greeted the older man. "When did you get back?"

"Just now," he answered. "The Captain here?"

"Yep."

"I gotta see her. Got me a couple of strays here who are lookin' for a ride home."

The young girl nodded, and opened the door to let them in. Maoban and the girl immediately went upstairs, leaving Shen and Destral alone in the parlor. It was a lavish chamber full of mismatched furniture and artifacts, likely the spoils and several different attacks. Shen took a place at the window, staring out at the street beyond, while Destral seated himself in one of the exceptionally plush chairs. Several minutes passed in silence broken only by the ticking of a large Torenian grandfather clock.

"I don't like this," Shen said finally, his gaze still fixed out the window.

"What do you mean?" Destral asked.

"I mean, what's taking them so long? This feels like a trap."

"How could it be a trap? Even if this 'Captain' does try to pull something, she's only just now finding out that we're here, right? She hasn't had time to set up a trap."

"That's my point. If Maoban isn't down here in two minutes, I'm leaving. You can stay if you want."

"What? Where would you go?"

"I don't know. But I'm not going to wait for a trap to close around me."

"You know, maybe you're just being paranoid. Do you really believe you have so many enemies?"

"Yes." The shortness of Shen's reply left little room for discussion.

Maoban did at last return, just under the deadline Shen had set. The child was no longer with him. "Captain Evie will see you now," he said as he descended the stairs. "One at a time."

"No," Shen said, a scowl forming on his face. "We go together, or we don't go."

The pirate shrugged. "Hey, if you leave, that's your choice. Listen, buddy, the Captain has enemies in this town. Lot's of them from that ship we just got off. For all she knows, you two might be here to kill her. Now, one at a time, she could probably handle either of you. But she ain't dumb enough to let you gang up on her."

Shen laughed shortly with contempt. "If we were assassins, we would have killed you already, and be on our way upstairs right now."

Maoban sneered. "Hey, if you wanna try it, squinty," he said, cracking his knuckles, "that's your choice, too."

"Listen," Destral said, laying a hand on Shen's shoulder. He spoke quietly, so that Maoban would at least have a difficult time hearing what was said. "I'm going upstairs, to see if I can get us a ride. If you don't like the situation, then get out of here. Go somewhere quiet, if there are any quiet places here. If you aren't here when I come downstairs, I'll look for you in that market after sunset. All right?"

Shen considered if for a long moment. "If this is a trap," he breathed, "you won't be any safer than I am."

"Don't worry about me," he answered with a smirk. "They had better have a demon or something up there if they plan on trying something funny with me." Destral patted the younger man's shoulder, and then stepped towards the stairs. "I'll be first," he said to Maoban.

"Up the stairs, down the hall, second door on your right," Maoban instructed him, moving to seat himself in the same seat Destral had just vacated. "And make sure you're on your best behavior up there."

Destral nodded once more to Shen, and then disappeared up the stairs. The young man again took his place at the window, though now his gaze remained fixed on Maoban's reflection in the glass. The paunch pirate poured himself a cup of wine, and propped his boots up on a nearby footstool. He was clearing watching Shen. The young man remained at the window for a long moment, weighing his options. His gut told him that he was in a bad position, and both his father and his sister had often advised him that it was unwise to ignore such feelings. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it would indeed be better to let Destral deal with this situation, and try to meet the swordsman later.

A quick walk on the royal red carpet of the upstairs hallway led Destral to the door Maoban had indicated. He knocked on the door, waited a polite couple of seconds, and opened it slowly. Stepping through, he closed the door behind him. The room he had entered had a general atmosphere of work, rather than pleasure: a large desk dominated the far end of the room, and a small bookcase was within easy reach of that. Next to that was a closed chest that served as a table, with an ornately carved glass decanter and a set of low, squat tumblers sitting idly atop it. A plush carpet was laid over the polished wooden floorboards, and a couple of paintings hung from the walls. Apart from that, there was little to the room's decor. He could imagine it wasn't the first time it witnessed an interview between the lady of the house and some unknown, or semi-unknown visitor.

The lady herself -Evie, Maoban had said -was standing at the opposite end of the room, and from the gentle swaying of the fabric, Destral guessed she had just drawn the curtains. Uncertain as to the reasons for such privacy, for the room was now isolated from all outside influences, Destral took another quick look around the room, trying not to make his mistrust so obvious as to seem impolite.

"Ah, Mr. Minare," she greeted him. Destral wasn't surprised that she knew his name. "Please, do come in," she continued, and he remembered that he had stopped with his back almost to the door, almost as if he were scared to come any closer. He took a step forward, and the lady seemed pleased at his acquiescence, or perhaps she was generally a jovial person. "Would you care for a seat? Something to drink?" Breathing in deeply, the swordsman steadied himself as he approached the large desk that stood between them.

"Your hospitality overwhelms me. Yes, thank you very much." The words sounded dry and stiff as they breached the space between them. Evie walked to the chest, poured a couple of drinks from the decanter and walked round the desk.

"Hospitality is what Nova Libertalia is all about," she said genially as she offered him one of the glasses. Destral took it, and Evie turned her back on him, going back to the table. She turned back towards him and half-leaned, half-sat on the desk, moving aside a pile of papers to make room for herself. The fabric of her dress, composed of a flag of some sort, was momentarily pulled taut over the flesh of her thighs, and Destral forced himself to keep his gaze within the triangle between her eyes and her lips. Even that was hard; her gaze was captivating, her lips undeniably attractive. The low cut in the front of her dress revealed the bronzed skin and generally pleasing shape of her bust, which Destral did his best not to think about right then. For all he knew, Shen might be right. Everything about the lady might be a distraction, luring him into security, until finally she jabbed a poison needle into his neck and dragged Shen off to goddesses know where. <Avernus,> he thought to himself, <a man of extremes. Why can't I just stay at a midway point?> She hadn't done anything funny to the drink, of that he was sure. He had been glaring at her hands as she poured the dark liquid, and she had turned so as not to let the glass out of his sight for even a moment.

"That, and sea-going trade, if the ship that brought us here is standard issue." Destral didn't want to be the one doing all the talking. If there was one thing he had learned about pirates, it was that they never gave anything for free. Most people were like that, but pirates were probably the ones who took that rule of thumb the furthest.

"Of course," Evie replied with a wry smile. Destral noticed that her drink was still untouched. So was his.

"Well, we are pirates, of course." Destral raised his glass.

"What would you toast to? Hospitality?" she asked him, smiling. Destral returned the smile.

"And those who offer it so generously." Evie raised an eyebrow slightly. Destral was still smiling. The glasses clipped together, and both of them drank. The liquid, rum, he guessed, was potent, with a strong, stinging aftertaste of alcohol, but not at all unpleasant. It treacled down his throat thickly, like watered honey, burning his throat all the way down, until it came to a stop in his stomach, from where it quickly began to suffuse him with the familiar warmth of strong liquor.

"So... Miss Evie?" he began tentatively.

"Evie will be fine," she replied, "Captain Evie if you're more comfortable with formalities."

"Captain Evie, then, if you don't mind. With no intention of sounding discourteous, I believe that we have business of sorts to discuss, and I'd like to get to the heart of it." Destral plowed as best he could through the sentence, wondering if perhaps Nova Libertalian etiquette demanded more idle banter before addressing the matter at hand. He pondered the idea for a moment, then thought to himself that he was dealing with a pirate. No matter how sophisticated, or seductive, a pirate would always be a pirate.

Her lips curled into a grin. "My, you are an eloquent one, aren't you. Not the usual sort of rabble the sea washes into this town."

"Ah..." He froze momentarily, unsure how to react to the complement. "Thank you."

"Well then," she began assertively, "I understand you and your friend Tobias are looking to hitch a ride to Ahren." Destral was taken aback at the directness of her reply. It sounded like she meant to help him already. But there had to be ulterior motives. There had to.

"That is... correct," he replied curtly. For some reason he got the sudden impression that he was beginning to talk like Shen. Short, cutting answers weren't exactly a rarity in him, but he hadn't expected his reply to come out so sharply. It had been instinctive. And yet, there was something not quite right.

Evie let out a little laugh, and Destral returned to the real world. She wasn't mocking him, he could tell from the tone of her laughter. It was more like she found him amusing. The swordsman didn't know if that was any better.

"Drink your rum, it will help you relax," she prompted him. Destral took another gulp from his glass. Again the comfortable warmth invaded him, this time lasting a bit longer. He looked back at Evie, who was taking another sip from her own drink. As she pulled the glass away from her lips, she leaned back comfortably on the table, shook her hair out of her face, and looked back at him. "See? It really is quality stuff. It's too bad we've lost all our Torenian contacts, we may actually run out some day."

"It _is_ rather good," he agreed. "I'm not a connoisseur, but it's certainly better than the usual fare found in drinking establishments."

"The many privileges of being a rogue," replied his host with a little shrug.

"...And talking about fare and fair..." Destral looked straight into Evie's eyes, his confidence boosted by the drink. He allowed the phrase to linger in the air, leaving it unfinished.

"Ah, well, I can see where this is going," she said as she stood, leaving the glass on the desk as she returned the swordsman's gaze. Something mischievous was glinting in her eyes, and Destral wasn't quite sure he disliked it. He had seen the same look in women's eyes before, but this time something was different. There was nothing wrong with it, was there? Something inside him reared its head, something that hissed as he felt rather than saw Evie as she circled around him, arms crossed, appraising him.

"What would you expect on our behalf in exchange for passage to Ahren?" he asked her. His voice had changed. It wasn't as controlled as it had been a few moments ago, the confidence he had gained seemed to have melted away when that... something... had stirred inside him. She poked his biceps just beneath where the sleeve of his chainmail vest ended, feeling the well-worked muscle. Destral stiffened slightly, and the hissing thing in his gut began to screech, causing him to clench his teeth.

"You're pretty strong, and Mao says you did pick up a fair bit of the trade while you were on the Iron Fang." Destral heard her voice as if from far away, and he couldn't tell if she was speaking normally or whispering in his ear. He was clenching his teeth so hard he felt them grinding against each other... He was losing it...

Evie was giggling. Realisation of this drained away the tension in Destral's body. Was she mocking him? Had it all been a prank?

"Really now, all we ask is that you pull your own weight. I can't promise direct passage, of course, but there are always captains heading that way." She said, appearing back in front of him. Destral was trying to focus on what she said, rather than trying to understand what had come over him. He could recapacitate on that later. "I'm sure I could hook you up with someone."

"It's still a rather generous offer," insisted Destral, not believing that he could get away with just helping out on the ship. It couldn't be that simple.

"What do you think I'm going to ask you for?" Evie asked playfully, teasing him. "All your gold? You clearly don't have much to spare. And we pirates share everything anyways." With that, Evie sat back down on the desk and finished the liquid that remained in her glass.

"Now I'm definitely intrigued." A smile appeared on Destral's face again. Perhaps it was true. Not all pirates had to be the same. Perhaps Evie wasn't as bad as he had first thought. "It's a rather different policy to the one I've seen on most of my trips."

"How so?"

"Most of the pirates I have come across were more the 'I'll hang onto that for you' type." His smile widened into a grin.

"Well, it's different if you aren't one of us, of course. But that's not important now, is it?" Destral didn't let his satisfaction show, but he had been expecting something of the sort.

"You can hardly consider us one of you," he argued, "we're only been on one of your boats for less than half a journey, and more as 'guests' of the Skenicians than your own..."

"One of our ships, eh?" Evie replied without pausing. "Well, let's just cut to the chase, shall we? I don't know where you're from," Evie's lips parted in a bemused smile, "but how else do you think you can get off this island?"

Destral was caught unawares by that. He hadn't thought about it either. Stealing a boat large enough to get anywhere would get them nowhere, because the two of them would never be able to man such a vessel on their own. There was precious little else to be done.

"I suppose swimming is out of the question," he said casually, admitting defeat. Evie's offer was the only viable solution. Perhaps if he thought about it long enough he could come up with a better idea that didn't leave him, and Shen, indebted to Captain Evie, but right now he preferred taking his chances with his host's offer and getting off the island as soon as possible; every moment they stayed there, the chances of Shen being recognised and captured increased.

"Now, let's not worry about that. How about we all be happy with what we've got for now? You can go out and enjoy yourself now, and see if Tobias is up for a little visit?" Evie let out a little laugh, and Destral felt instinctively that it sounded genuine.

"Refusing that is probably unwise too, isn't it?"

"Well, unless he's a much better swimmer than he looks, he may want to keep it in mind." Destral laughed out loud. His host's laughter was contagious.

"So, what do you have in mind when you say 'enjoy myself'?" he asked her as he half-turned for the door.

"There's a lovely little house of infamy near here, the Crow's Nest. It's run by a close friend of mine. A fellow indulgent to more vice than a low man can probably imagine," she suggested, mischief glinting in her eyes again. "I think you'll love it." Destral looked at Evie in mock surprise, but inwardly was aware that he was mocking his very own behaviour from just a few moments ago. Letting the good mood back onto his face, he wondered how it could be that this woman could make him change from his usual self into something akin to any of the ruffians on board the Iron Fang, without even blinking.

"Sounds like fun," he said, as if he were thinking out loud. <Shen will probably appreciate forgetting everything for a while as well,>, he thought to himself, <although I mustn't let my guard down _too_ far...>

"I'm sure it will, Mr. Minare," she agreed.

"Destral will be fine," he corrected her with an ingratiating smile.

"Destral, then. You go out and play, and I'll talk to your friend, and once I find out who's going your way I'll send Mao to tell you. How's that?"

"That would be very kind of you, Evie."

"Off you go then."

Destral headed for the door, thinking that Evie was probably the only woman who would ever be able to talk to him as if he were a child and not make him feel bad about it. As he closed the door behind himself, he wondered how she did it. It was probably the city itself. A woman alone in such a city surely had to 'fend off the flies' without getting her throat slit. She had probably perfected a method over many, many years.

Coming down the stairs to the parlor where Maoban had made him and Shen wait, Destral discovered that his companion was nowhere to be seen. The older pirate was where he had last seen him, sitting on the chair Destral had been sitting in until the pirate had told him Evie would see him. Maoban's feet were propped on a footstool, and it appeared that he had already been through several cups of wine. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Destral addressed the pirate.

"Where is Tobias?" he asked, his voice calm, despite being completely on edge. Had they spirited Shen away while Evie distracted him, as he had suspected? The good mood that had accompanied him since talking with Evie was now only a facade. He tried to show no outwards signs of it, but he was ready to jump on Maoban and put Gelita to his throat the moment he began to do anything that seemed even remotely suspicious.

"He took his stuff, and left," Maoban replied. "He asked me how long you were going to take, and I said you can never know, as far as I'm concerned, he might be up there 'till morning. So he left. Said he'd meet you later."

Destral sighed. Some part of him did not trust the pirate, but there was no sign of a struggle, he had heard nothing suspicious while upstairs, and Shen had seemed quite set on fleeing the situation anyway. Maoban, on the other hand, already looked too drunk to perform such a seamless kidnapping. Destral briefly considered threatening the older man for any further information, seeing if he could scare anything out of him. He didn't know how many people worked for Evie in her home, however, or how quickly help would arrive should the alarm be raised. Opting for the subtle approach, Destral decided to do as Evie had told him. For now, he would just have to hope that his companion would arrive at the marketplace that evening.

"When he comes back could you tell him to head over to the Crow's Nest? I'll be waiting for him there."

"Mighty fine," agreed Maoban. Destral nodded and headed for the door, wondering what he should do. Nothing came to mind, and he thought he might as well think about it in the Crow's Nest. Perhaps something would occur to him once he had sat down and could concentrate solely on solving his current dilemma.

"You know where the Nest is?" called Maoban after him. Destral turned and shook his head. Maoban grinned and proceeded to give him directions. As Evie had said, it wasn't too far, all the better in case Destral had to come back at a run. Thanking Maoban aloud, and cursing him inwardly as the scapegoat for this entire vexatious situation, Destral left Evie's house and headed for the Nest.

After disembarking the ship, Captain Gallagher and a few of his men had escorted Bulix and the Skenicians into the city. They were taken to what appeared to be an inn of sorts, and seated in a private lounge. Almost as soon as they arrived, Tinbuk, excusing himself and inviting the Skenicians to partake of the establishment's hospitality, left to return to overseeing his ship. Three of Tinbuk's men remained, along with five equally rugged looking fellows who worked at the inn, to watch over the Skenicians. Bulix recognized that the guards were there to make sure the Skenicians did not leave, rather than to protect them. He also realized quickly that they had been taken to a brothel. It was not a familiar sight, as prostitution had long been illegal in Skenic, but the host of scantily clad women parading around on the upper balconies and occasionally waving and giggling flirtatiously at the soldiers made it clear enough. It was certainly not a comfortable situation, but the Skenicians had little choice but to wait for the moment.

A seemingly interminable amount of time had passed before Tinbuk at last returned, and once more lead them away. The sun was setting, and the cool of evening was settling over Nova Libertalia when they again took to the streets. The infamous city of pirates, it seemed, was just waking up. The dull roar of drunken voices and songs was just a murmur, but was quickly on the rise.

The Skenicians were lead this time to a tall mansion with a wide courtyard. It was difficult to judge its size exactly in the shadows of dusk, but the multitude of lighted windows that poured luminance into the yard testified to its magnitude. They were met at the gates by a motley troop of guards, who immediately parted, recognizing Tinbuk. The pirate captain lead them across the courtyard to the front doors, a pair of ridiculously tall portals of white wood. Tinbuk threw the doors open, and invited the Skenicians inside.

Beyond the doors was a wide, open hall with white walls and red carpet. A multitude of paintings and tapestries adorned the walls, and hung from the ceiling high above was a gruesome chandelier of sorts, composed of a horde of skulls hung from iron rigs. A tall staircase rose at the far end of the hall, branching in two half way up and leading to opposite wings of the mansion. Several crossbow wielding guards immediately took aim on the Skenicians as they entered.

"We is here, boss," Tinbuk announced loudly.

"Welcome to Nova Libertalia," called a deep voice from above them. All eyes turned upwards as a party of four appeared on the top of the left stairway and began making their way down. The center man, obviously the leader, was a very tall, muscular fellow with very dark skin, and no hair save his thin, sharp eyebrows and well trimmed goatee. He wore a long white jacket, a simple violet shirt, and black trousers and boots, all of which appeared far too refined for a pirate. Draped from his left arm was a triclops woman with jet black hair and a trio of light brown eyes. The scanty red dress she wore hid little of her shapely figure, and the scimitar she wore at her belt seemed quite out of place. At the tall man's right was a thin man in a black cloak with pale skin and long, bright violet hair that covered his eyes. Behind the other three came a giant brute, fully a head taller than even the dark skinned man, with a sloping brow, leathery skin, and tusks that marked him as a half-troll, and a particularly ugly one at that.

"My apologies for your wait," the dark skinned man said as he continued to lead his entourage down the stairs. "But I was not expecting to entertain such momentous visitors this evening." He at last came to stand before Bulix, offering the blond Skenician his hand. "Commander Bulix Caine. Or Councilman Bulix Caine, if I remember clearly. Truly, a pleasure."

Bulix froze for a moment, surprised that the stranger knew his title. The look Tinbuk turned on Bulix showed him that the pirate captain too was surprised. "You have me at a disadvantage, Sir," Bulix answered, not yet taking the offered hand.

"Revanard, Councilman," the big man answered.

Bulix blinked, stunned for only an instant. "Vincent Revanard," he said, shaking the other man's hand firmly. "You were one of the captains to sign the Relts Accords."

"Indeed I was."

"I apologize for not recognizing you sooner."

"Perfectly understandable. Much has changed since that time, and the past ten years have been quite good to me." Revanard winked to the woman at his side, who quickly returned it. "How is Minister Bazo? I assume that he still retains his post."

"He does, and he is well."

"Outstanding. And yourself?"

"Well enough, all things considered."

"Ah, yes. Captain Gallagher has already informed me of your situation. I understand that you have wounded." Revanard glanced to the three Skenicians who were being either supported or carried by the others.

"We do," Bulix nodded. "We were told we would find help here."

"And you have, Councilman, you have. A ship has already been arranged to take you back to Skenic. A physician will accompany you to care for your wounded. You may leave at your leisure. With a good wind at your backs, you'll be back on that ice cube you call home in no time." He smiled widely, exposing several gold teeth.

"Then you have the thanks of the nation of Skenic, Mister Revanard."

"Thanks are unnecessary. I will, of course, expect to be reimbursed in agreement with the Relts Accords."

"You need not worry about that."

"I don't."

"I thank you for your hospitality, but it's important that we return as quickly as possible."

"I understand. But certainly, you won't be returning tonight. My men will escort your wounded to a place they can rest and be well cared for. If the rest of you would be so kind, I've prepared a banquet. I'd like to hear how you ended up where you did, and besides, there's no need to go right back out to sea without filling your bellies."

Bulix glanced at his men. "With all due respect, I must insist that we stay together."

Revanard thought about it for a moment. "Then I suppose we'll just make room for them at the table. Follow me, everyone." He did not leave room for further argument.

The ensuing banquet was enjoyed far more by the pirates than by the Skenicians. The first round of wine pitchers were emptied with expeditious speed, despite the northerners' glasses remaining all but untouched. After the first hour Revanard and his entourage were the only Nova Libertalians not at least a bit drunk. Revanard's men, however rowdy they became, carefully avoided saying or doing anything offensive to the Skenicians, likely out of respect for or fear of their leader, Bulix thought to himself. Revanard sat at the head of the table with Bulix on his left and the triclops woman at his right. The dark skinned man kept the councilman engaged in conversation about the state of affairs in Skenic and his unusual journey south, and Bulix actually found the pirate leader to be an agreeable conversationalist. Bulix retold the story of the demon's attack on the Stalwart, not really expecting Revanard to believe it, as he barely believed it himself.

"Fascinating," Revanard said with a nod, taking another sip of his wine after Bulix finished his story. "This Mister Minare sounds like quite a fighter."

"A warrior of respectable strength," Bulix agreed.

"And a magician on the side. After seeing Skenic myself all those years ago, I must say, I'm surprised to hear a Skenician praise a magician."

"Times change, don't they. I must say, remembering that same meeting, I hardly expected to see any of you living this sort of life."

"Ah, too true," Revanard laughed, again exposing his gold teeth. "Don't be fooled, though. Underneath all of these fancy clothes, I'm still quite the ruffian."

"I'm certain of that," Bulix nodded, grinning just slightly.

"What about this other fellow who was with you... I never did catch his name..."

"He's called Tobias," Bulix supplied, grimacing inwardly. He had hoped in vain that Sinister would not come up in the conversation. He had agreed with the young man that once they reached Nova Libertalia, Sinister and Minare would be on their own. It would be against his principles, as well as his oaths as a councilman, to lie to an ally, even an ally as questionable as Revanard. He was already treading thin ice just by supplying the assumed name. Still, the young foreigner seemed to have enough problems as it was, and Bulix hardly wanted to add to them by revealing Shen to an enemy.

"Tobias," Revanard said thoughtful, scratching his chin. "An inventor of sorts, you say. Does this Tobias have a family name?"

"None that I've heard."

"Just who are these two men, Minare and Tobias? And how did they come to be traveling on a Skenician battleship?"

"Minare is a pirate himself. Tobias may be as well, though I can't be sure. Their ship was lost in Skenician waters, and we were escorting them to the nearest port."

"In compliance with the Relts Accords."

"Of course."

"It hardly seems a task worthy of a councilman, though."

"The circumstances were indeed unusual. Let us just say that the attack on our ship by the demon was not the first of its kind."

"Really?" Revanard leaned forward a bit, generally interested.

Bulix shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't be any more specific than that at the moment."

"I see." He settled back into his chair. "Well, we all have our secrets, don't we. Where are the mysterious duo this evening? I was hoping to meet them as well."

"We agreed to part company when we reach this city. I do not expect to see them again."

"I see. A pity."

At that moment Tinbuk appeared at Revanard's side. "Boss," the pirate captain said quietly, though Bulix still heard it. "We got to talk."

"What is it?" Revanard said, keeping his eyes on Bulix.

"Kungah is back," Tinbuk answered. "We got a problem."

The dusky man's face darkened visibly. "Pardon me a moment, Councilman," he said, nodding to Bulix as he rose from his chair. Followed by his entourage and Tinbuk, Revanard walked swiftly from the banquet hall.

Kungah, Tinbuk's first mate, was waiting when Revanard and his company entered Revanard's private study. The yellow skinned gnome bowed deeply to the dark skinned man as he hurriedly stepped inside.

"I assume that you did not call me away from my table to tell me that you have Sinister," Revanard said shortly as he took a seat at his desk. The anger in his dark eyes was plain, though his face was expressionless. The triclops woman took a perch behind his chair, while the half-troll and the purple haired man flanked Tinbuk and Kungah.

"Kungah has been lookin' for him," Tinbuk answered. "A few of my boys said they saw him and the other guy, Minare, leave the dock with Maoban, that fat old bastard. Maoban was seen a sneakin' around near the Crow's Nest with a couple strangers. Nobody seen him since."

"Damn," Revanard snarled. "Evie. How long has this Maoban been on your crew?"

Tinbuk looked to Kungah. "About half a year now, boss," the gnome answered.

"All that time, and he's been working for Evie the whole time, I bet. That sneaky little bitch..." One of the shaven headed man's fists slammed into the table, causing everything on it, as well as Kungah and Tinbuk, to jump.

"What do we do now?" Tinbuk asked. "Do we move on Evie?"

Revanard shook his head. "She's too fast for that. If she has him, then he's probably already being moved. Damn it all, she may have already gotten him out of the city." Again he pounded his fist against the desk. "You should have taken him when you had the chance, fool."

"We woulda had to kill the Skenicians," the lanky pirate captain answered with a shrug. "I figured you would want them both."

"Granted, the Skenicians are valuable, and I intend to claim the reward. But Sinister is worth one hundred times what they're worth. A bird in the hand, Tinbuk."

"So, what do we do now?"

"You find him. You find out where Evie's taking him, and you get there first." He rose from his chair, and a few long strides brought Revanard to loom over Tinbuk. "Take whoever you need, and bring them all back. Sinister, Minare, and Maoban. I want them all. Alive if you can, dead is fine too. If you come back here without all three of them, I swear Tinbuk, I'll hang your skull on my chandelier too. Understood?"

"Yeah, boss."

"Borno, Pointer," Revanard said, turning to the half-troll and the purple haired man in turn. "You two go with him. Make sure it gets done right." Each nodded in response. "Now, if you all will excuse me," Revanard stepped between Tinbuk and Kungah, forcing both of them to move aside, "I have a banquet to host." He stormed away, and was soon gone.

The triclops woman came sauntering out from behind Revanard's desk, and came to stand before Tinbuk. She kissed her palm, and then used that hand to deliver a stinging slap to his face. "Good luck," she said with a slight giggle before pushing past the infuriated pirate captain to join Revanard.

At first glance, the Crow's Nest seemed a few shades less seedy than the average Nova Libertalian tavern. Destral wasn't really on judging grounds, seeing as it was the first tavern he actually visited, and thus he had nothing to compare it to. He was basing his opinion on the reasonably kept exterior of the building, the quality of the sign that indicated the establishment's name, and perhaps the street on which it was located.

As soon as he had stepped inside, he realised that his guess had been wrong. The interior of the tavern was large, but cluttered with dozens of tables and chairs that had obviously seen their fair share of drunken barroom brawls. A robust bar separated the far wall from the rest of the room, tended to by a burly man, with arms as thick as hams and a very decorative set of scars across his face. Both his overalls and blue shirt were stained and grimy, although his hands seemed reasonably clean. All in all, he didn't seem a particularly amiable character, although he was probably capable of breaking up any fights which might stir up.

Many of the battle worn chairs were occupied by pirates, and those that weren't were empty. Most of the customers were busy, either drinking themselves to death, singing, looking tough, shouting loudly, or a combination thereof. Those that weren't were either playing cards, slumped over their tables, or comatose on the floor. A colourful if rowdy bunch.

The one person Destral instantly noticed was a young, dark-skinned man, obviously a gypsy. Destral had met a few of them in his travels, and, for the most part, the 'people of the blood', as they called themselves, were a bunch of con-men, ruffians, and scoundrels. This particular one stuck out from the rest of the Nest's clientele because of the natural dark olive tone of his skin, as opposed to the heavy tan sported by the sailors, and the fact that he seemed the only person in the tavern who was interested in engaging in actual conversation. At that particular moment, the only answer the gypsy had managed to evoke from the card players at his table was a set of glares that indicated his silence would be appreciated. As he made his way to the bar, Destral subtly untied his pouch from his belt and quickly slipped it into his tunic. He kept an eye on things, aware that he probably stood out as much to the rest of the locals as the gypsy did to him.

At the bar he asked for a glass of Torenian rum. The barkeep raised an eyebrow at him, but served the drink. The swordsman pulled his pouch out from inside his tunic, dropped a couple of coins on the bar, returned the pouch to safety, took his drink, and turned around to look for a place to sit. He noticed that the gypsy had stopped talking to the card players, and was looking with interest in his direction. The dark young man almost seemed to be waiting for something to happen, and Destral couldn't help but wonder what. Destral remained where he was, taking a sip of his drink. The gypsy imitated him, only to find his drink was empty. He stood, empty glass in hand, and began sauntering towards the bar.

Destral realised he was not only staring at the gypsy as he approached, but scowling, and he reprimanded himself. Perhaps gypsies here on Nu were different from the common types. Perhaps this gypsy wasn't a thief, or a conman, or a lecher, or a liar, or a scam-sifter, or... The swordsman shook his head slightly. Perhaps one gypsy in a million wasn't crooked. Somehow, he felt the odds were against him, and against the gypsy that had almost reached him. Attempting to make it look natural, he moved out of the gypsy's way and headed to a small table in the nearest corner.

"I'll have whatever he's got," the gypsy informed the barman, motioning towards Destral and slapping two worn gold coins onto the bar.

"'s what you had before, anyway," the barman replied gruffly as he served the drink. Filling the heavy glass almost all the way to the top, he corked the bottle again and returned it to its place under the bar. He continued polishing another glass as the gypsy took his glass and looked intently at the man in the chainmail vest. A couple of moments after sitting down, Destral looked up at the bar, and saw that the gypsy was still looking at him.

"All right, enough of this blasted staring," Destral muttered under his breath finally. Wondering if perhaps he would regret it later, he motioned to one of the chairs at his table. With a shrug, the gypsy weaved his way between tables and people until he reached Destral's table, and sat down on the chair opposite the swordsman.

"Another 'friend' of the Captain's?" the gypsy asked. Destral was too shocked to answer at first.

"I suppose so," he managed to reply eventually. "More of an acquaintance. Actually, only just met her."

"Figures," replied the gypsy. "You didn't quite look like the usual type."

"What else do we have in common, apart from our drinks and that we both 'know' the Captain?"

"Hey," whispered the gypsy, looking over at the gamblers, "I wouldn't go around saying that you 'know' her, if you know what I mean. These pricks don't take kindly to that type of thing." Destral felt his face warming up with a blush, not knowing if it was because of the man's insinuations or his choice of adjective for the other occupants of the tavern.

"That's not the 'know' I meant," replied the swordsman sharply. The gypsy simply shrugged. Destral grimaced inwardly. He had been right from the beginning; this particular gypsy was a lech. Still, it seemed the lech knew more about what was going on than Destral, and the swordsman stood to learn something about his current predicament. "Anyway," Destral insisted, "what connection do you have with her? There don't seem to be many of your clan around here..."

"I suppose not. Just passing through, I suppose." The gypsy gave him a grin before taking another drink from his glass. Destral noticed that the gypsy's glass was almost empty and his was almost full, even though they had asked almost at the same time.

"Where are you headed?" Destral asked. He was beginning to wonder why the gypsy had come to sit at his table if he was the one doing all the talking.

"Wherever," the gypsy replied hollowly. "You?"

"Ahren, eventually." Destral let out a little sigh. He doubted he'd ever make it to Ahren in time, assuming he wasn't already too late. Even if he did get there, he didn't have enough money to pay the stable keeper. Perhaps he could offer the stable keep his services as a stable hand, if he ever made it there.

"Problems with Ahren?" The gypsy inquired.

"Not with Ahren itself. Just _getting_ there seems to be the hardest thing in the world."

"There's lotsa ships around here." A long pause followed. The gypsy seemed rather bored with the conversation, and Destral wasn't feeling particularly inspired either.

"So how'd _you_ meet her?" The olive skinned man asked suddenly.

"I was introduced to her by a mutual friend, one Maoban. He sails on the Iron Fang."

"Never heard of him," Jan replied as he took another drink from his glass. Destral looked at his own, and saw that it was now about one-third full, rather than the three-quarters it had been a few moments ago.

"My... uh... employer and I were headed towards Cira when our ship was attacked. We managed to drive the assailants away, but not before they had left our ship on the brink of sinking. We were then hauled onto a pirate ship and brought here," Destral made a short pause to finish off his drink, "and from here, who knows?" The gypsy nodded.

"Who's your employer?"

"His name is Tobias." Although the words came out of his mouth fine, they felt somewhat strange as they left his lips. He still wasn't used to lying, and he wasn't very good at it.

"Where from?" asked the gypsy. He seemed vaguely more interested in the conversation now. "I know a Tobias from Illaam who used to do some smuggling."

"No, I think he's from Evergreen," Destral replied, unsuccessfully attempting to signal to the barkeep for another drink.

"Really? I hear they're having some problems there." Another shrug. The olive-skinned man seemed to have a predilection for that gesture. In the following dead space of the conversation Destral went to the bar to fetch another drink. "What's your boss do?" the gypsy asked him when he returned.

"I don't know. I'm just his bodyguard," Destral replied quietly. "Or something like that, anyway."

"Ahh, well, maybe that's why she was so excited."

"Hmm? What are you talking about?" asked the swordsman. The gypsy took another drink.

"She sent me out to celebrate for her, and I was only too happy to oblige. It was fun until I was winning too much," he said loudly, giving the card players a sidelong glare. Their game continued without anyone even glancing at the irate gypsy. "Said something about some important Mafia guy falling right into her lap." Another shrug.

Destral's eyes widened visibly, and his knuckles tightened around his glass. "Mafia? What Mafia?"

The gypsy glanced at him incredulously for a moment. Then a smile spread across his face. "You aren't from around here, are you."

"What Mafia?" Destral asked again, his voice now urgent.

"The Evergreen Mafia. The biggest bunch of thieves and killers there is." The gypsy's grin spread even further. "You know, if you were supposed to be that guy's bodyguard, you really didn't do a very good job."

Destral's response was to roar with anger, throwing his half-empty glass to the floor and shattering it. The noise of the bar paused only for a second as everyone turned to regard the swordsman, and then immediately went back to whatever they had been doing before. Apparently glasses smashed in anger was a nightly occurrence in the Crow's Nest. The barkeep, however, appeared none too pleased. He was snorting something under his breath, and glaring meaningfully at Destral.

"Err... you OK?" the gypsy asked after a moment.

"Come with me, _now_," hissed the swordsman. The gypsy eyed him warily. Destral had stood up, pulled the pouch from under his tunic again, and left another couple of coins on the bar. "Sorry about the glass, 'mate'," he apologised, and headed back to the table, where the gypsy still hadn't moved from his chair.

"I'm not supposed to, um, leave..." he began, eyeing the drunks. "Oh, what the hell," he said, standing up. Destral strode out of the tavern, with the gypsy close behind him.

Once outside, Destral took the gypsy to a quiet alley around corner. The dark-skinned man was slightly tipsy, but he still spoke congruently.

"So you're telling me that the Captain knows about Tobias?" the swordsman asked.

"I suppose so," the gypsy nodded, stretching his arms. "_Could_ be someone else, but probably not."

"Shen Sinister?" Destral asked, his voice sober and cold.

"What?!" the gypsy's face drained of colour, appearing yellow in the strange light of sunset. Destral was almost as surprised as the gypsy.

"You know him?"

"You mean _the_ Shen Sinister?"

"Tall kid, black hair, dark skin, never smiles more than halfway?"

"Yeah... yeah, that sounds like him."

"You know him?"

"You could... err... say that..."

"And you say the Captain knows who he is?"

"No, I didn't." The gypsy still seemed dazed. "Is it Shen? She said someone important, but from what I hear _everyone_ is after him these days." Now it was Destral's turn to go pale. Shen had said so himself, the pirates weren't precisely friends with his 'family'. Destral hadn't quite understood what it meant at the time. He realised now that the pirates had probably recognised Shen straight away on the Stalwart. The Captain of the Iron Fang had probably recognised Shen, and had hoped to sell him to some important captain here in town. Evie. Maoban must have been playing to gain Destral's trust the whole time, to make it easier to get Shen away from the Skenicians.

"That bastard," Destral growled under his breath. He looked up then at the gypsy, eyes full of intensity. "I need your help."

The gypsy looked surprised. "My help?"

"Evie trusts you, right?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

"Well, it's safe to say she trusts you more than me now. I need you to talk to her. I need to know whether or not she really has Shen."

"You mean you don't know where he is?"

"He might have escaped, while I was talking to Evie. I have to know for sure. C'mon, we're going to Evie's place." He took the gypsy by the arm, and started back towards the Captain's house. The gypsy immediately wrenched his arm out of Destral's grip.

"Forget it!" the gypsy declared, anger in his voice. "I'm not sticking out my neck to help Shen Sinister!"

"They'll kill him!" Destral growled. "Maybe worse!"

"So what?! You don't think Sinister would have everyone in this town killed if the opportunity came up? Hell, that little prick pushed his own father out a window!"

Destral staggered visibly at the gypsy's words, his face turning white and bile rising in his throat. "He... he what?"

"That's the way everybody tells it, anyway," the gypsy answered, his voice much calmer now. "They say Shen had somebody throw his father, the old Don, off the top floor of his tower, so he could take over the family."

Destral bit his lip and turned his face downward, falling silent for a long time. He turned his back to the gypsy, clutching his head in his hands. "Avernus..." he breathed through his teeth. The swordsman's situation seemed to be getting more twisted by the minute. He had suspected for quite some time that Shen was involved with some sort of shady business. Perhaps, he had thought, Shen was a smuggler, a crooked merchant, or even a thief. The patricidal head of a criminal syndicate, however, had never occurred to him.

"You really didn't know any of that, did you," the gypsy noted.

"Look," Destral said, turning to the olive skinned man once more, "one way or the other, I have to know for sure. If I have to, I'll bust into Evie's place, and find out if they have him for myself. Things will get ugly, I figure, real ugly. But if you'll help me, I think we can avoid anyone getting killed. I can't make you do it. I'm asking you. Please, help me."

The gypsy shook his head in disbelief. "You're serious? You're not even real Mafia, and you're planning to take on a whole house full of pirates to help that guy?"

"If I have to," Destral nodded.

Again the gypsy shook his head. "Not me, man. I've already got problems of my own, without sticking my nose in Mafia business. If you ask me, Sinister isn't worth saving anyway. Let them have him."

Destral's fists clenched, and a flash of anger crossed him face. "If I find out what you said is true, then believe me, I'll make sure he gets what he deserves myself. But..." he paused, and the anger drained from his expression, "but I can't leave things like this. I just can't. Please, help me!"

The gypsy sighed. "Look, Shen and I aren't exactly the best of friends..."

"How so?" the swordsman asked.

"I... It's a long story. He doesn't care much for me, and we can leave it at that."

"What did you do, sleep with his mother?" Destral hadn't meant to speak so harshly to the gypsy. The words had sprung straight up from his gut, where his dislike for gypsies resided, and rushed past his mouth without mediation on behalf of his brain. The swordsman winced slightly just after he said it, berating the wisdom of insulting someone who's help he was pleading for.

"It was his sister," the gypsy admitted.

Destral's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He had not expected his guess to be so close to the mark. "W-Wait a minute... You were with his sister?!" he almost shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" the dark man hissed in response.

Once more Destral's hands came up to clutch his head. "Avernus, what a mess!" he groaned. "Does Malock know about that?"

"Who?"

"Never mind, never mind. I just... I can't believe this!"

"It was _years_ ago. We were drunk. And Shen tried to have me killed the next day."

"Well, look at it this way: if you'll come and help me, then even if Evie doesn't have Shen, I'll make sure he knows that you warned us that we're not quite as inconspicuous as we thought. And if something _has_ happened to him and you help me get him back, he's bound to see you with different eyes." Destral knew he needed the gypsy. Evie trusted him, and he might be able to find out where Shen was from her with his gypsy charms. Certainly he'd have more luck that Destral would, at any rate.

"...Maybe..." the gypsy answered. Destral was beginning to get nervous. They were wasting valuable time. "I suppose I can talk to Evie, at least."

"It will redeem your whole race in my eyes." Again, words spoken straight from the heart, without the brain to twist them or their intent.

"I mean, if she's already got him, she's got no reason not to tell me."

"That will be enough. Once I know where Shen is, I can take care of things myself," replied Destral, "although you'd be perfectly welcome to come with me the rest of the way."

The gypsy shook his head. "I can't believe I'm about to do this. Why don't you go back to the tavern, and I'll meet you there later?"

"Understood. Try not to take too long."

"Yeah. See you there," the gypsy turned to go.

Destral watched as the dark skinned man walked off at a brisk, slightly drunken clip, quickly disappearing into the shadows of evening. He realized, a few seconds after the gypsy disappeared around a corner, that he did not even know his unusual new ally's name.

Jan shook his head at the strange encounter. This excursion to Nova Libertalia was certainly proving interesting, if nothing else. As Jan drew near to the captain's house, he couldn't help wondering how the stranger, whose name he hadn't even caught back at the tavern, had managed to talk him into what he was about to do. Sure, he expected Shen probably had bigger problems on his hands at the moment than whatever anger he still felt towards Jan, but then again, the Family was known for holding grudges. Jan still wasn't sure exactly what Evie wanted with him, but he doubted she'd be too pleased if she realized that he was trying to help the stranger keep her prize out of her hands.

He was met at the door by a thin man he hadn't met before, but the pirate seemed to know who he was, and admitted him without more than a cursory look over.

"Is Evie around?" Jan asked, turning to the man who had let him in.

The man looked him over again and shrugged. "Yeah, she's upstairs. Urmen, right?"

Jan nodded in confirmation. "She busy?"

"Not no more..."

"Really? That's... good." The pirate nodded nonchalantly once more, picked up a mug of something probably alcoholic and settled down into one of the more comfortable chairs. Jan moved upstairs and paused before knocking on the study door. Sure, he'd been meaning to talk to her anyway, since he had no idea what she had in mind for him. He gathered that his timing was good or he would have just been shipped back to Toren, but he didn't really feel like sticking around for the times to change on him again. He still wasn't sure why she was showing any interest in him at all at this point. Just being a better cheat than the average pirate didn't really seam to qualify, and he didn't really get the impression that she had fallen under the spell of his innate charm. At least, she hadn't yet. He knocked. It was possible she was just crazy.

"Come in." Jan did. Evie was sitting in her desk chair, looking out the window, a cat's satisfied smile spread across her face. Once he was inside, she swiveled around in her chair, giving Jan an unpleasant flashback to his time in the office of Don Sinister. Still grinning, she leaned forward onto her desk in a pose that would have put many well qualified secretaries to shame. Waveshore's crest stretched enticingly across her chest. "Can I help you with something?"

Not one to be intimidated by an aggressive woman, Jan sauntered up to the desk, laid his hands flat on its surface and looked down at the captain. Crazy or not, she was a very appealing woman, and the combination of rum and provocation made him feel much more aggressive himself. "I've heard you might. I've heard some interesting things... like that Shen Sinister is in town."

"That is interesting, Jan." She leaned back and slapped his hands away from her desk with a rolled up piece of paper. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited for her to elaborate. "Not true, fortunately for you."

"Really?" Jan was a bit surprised, but then, it was no skin off his nose either way.

"Really. He just left, in fact, on one of my ships. Poor boy never knew what hit him."

"Ah..."

"So I see you must have been speaking with Destral, then."

"If you mean the one other guy in the Nest who wasn't a pirate, yeah."

She nodded. "Does he suspect that I have Sinister?"

"I'd say so."

"Perfect. Now you have a opportunity."

"I do?" As Jan sunk into the chair behind him, his muddled mind was vaguely aware of things going on that were way above his head.

"Yes, you do." She broadened her grin into a full fledged, tooth revealing smile, and reached into her desk. Jan decided it was in his best interest to wait and see what she wanted from him, and grinned himself when she produced a bottle, two glasses, and a very full bag of coins. "First we drink to my success."

Evie poured a finger of amber liquid into each glass and pushed one towards her guest with a slender finger. Taking a moment to caress the finger, Jan lifted the glass to his hostess, eyes ranging from her well matured curves to the bag of what he guessed was probably gold. After they slammed their empty glasses down on the desk, Evie re-corked the bottle and put it away, leaving the bag to tantalize the gypsy. He guessed there was somewhere between 80 and 100 coins.

"What do you want me to do?"

"By now a very unfriendly gentleman by the name of Revanard has realized that Sinister has slipped through his grasp, and into mine. His men will be out combing the city, trying to find out where I've taken him, so they can take him back." A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. "I want you to make sure that they find Destral instead."

Jan was silent for a moment. "How would I do that?"

"I know exactly where Revanard's men will look: my warehouse, near the piers. Number 18. I've already had it cleared of anything too important. All you have to do is get Destral there at the same time, and Revanard's men will take him off my hands for me."

"What's in it for me?"

She patted the sack of gold coins. "This, and more importantly, your freedom. Come back here after Destral is taken care of, and I'll put you on the next ship out of town." A wicked grin found her face then. "Unless you'd like to partake of my hospitality for a while longer, of course."

The gypsy grinned. "That sounds more dangerous than this job of yours, actually."

"One more thing. Don't just send Destral off on his own. Make sure he goes, and make sure Revanard's men pick him up. I want you to see it with your own eyes."

"Right."

Evie leaned back easily in her chair. "If you don't have any questions, I believe you have a job to do. Unless I miss my guess, Destral is probably waiting for you, hmm?"

Jan nodded, and rose from his chair. He started towards the door, but stopped suddenly. "I do have one question, actually. Where did you send Sinister?"

She tilted her head and smiled girlishly. "Why should that matter?"

"Just curious."

Evie turned her chair a bit to the side and crossed her arms under her bosoms, pushing them up so far that they threatened to leap from her dress. "Then let your curiosity be satisfied."

Jan just shook his head, and walked from Evie's office. The gypsy found himself with an interesting choice as he descended the stairs of the Captain's house. Did he betray Destral, a man he had just met who had connections to another man who wanted Jan dead? Or did he betray Evie, a woman he already knew to be dangerous who probably had connections to every person on Nu who wanted Jan dead?

Phrased that way, it hardly seemed like a choice at all.

It was not long afterwards that Jan and Destral where stalking through the warehouses near the harbor, sticking closely to the shadows of early evening. Destral's hand remained fixed on Gelita's hilt, as the swordsman expected to have use of the ice blade. Jan had said nothing since they left the Crow's Nest, but Destral was not particularly in the mood for further conversation anyway.

"15... 16..." Destral counted off the warehouse numbers in low whispers as they passed by, his eyes fixed intensely forward. "17. So it should be the next one down, right?"

"That's what she said," Jan answered.

Destral looked back over his shoulder at the gypsy for the first time since leaving the bar. "You coming in?"

Jan shook his head. "If you intend to go in there and start swinging that thing around," he replied, motioning to Destral's sword, "I think I'd rather stay out here."

"That's fine." The swordsman turned, and offered the gypsy his hand. "Thanks for your help, Jan. I won't forget this, and I'll make sure Shen doesn't either."

Jan paused a moment before shaking the offered hand. "Yeah... good luck." Destral nodded, and started off. Watching as the swordsman walked into the darkness, Jan felt an odd twinge in the pit of his stomach. It had been quite a while, actually, since he had felt guilty about anything at all.

Destral took a perch behind a stack of old crates near warehouse 17 to observe his objective for a moment. There was a man standing in front of the main door, and Destral also noticed a second man standing on the opposite side of the earthen road. That was a good sign; if Evie had a catch as valuable has Jan had told him Shen was stored in her warehouse, she would certainly post guards there to make sure no one came to liberate him. The flicker of torchlights poured out of the warehouse's high windows, another good sign. Destral reasoned that he could probably take care of the outer guards with a couple of sleep spells, but there was no sense revealing his presence at all unless he was sure Shen was inside.

A stack of crates similar to the one he hid behind rested against the wall of the warehouse, and appeared to offer Destral a place where he might climb up and peer into the warehouse windows. Waiting until he was sure that the two guards were not looking his direction, Destral quickly dashed from behind his cover, pinning himself flat against the warehouse wall, trying to become part of the shadows. He could hear faint voices from inside, though he couldn't quite make out what was said. He remained flat against the wall for long moment, listening to his own breathing and making sure he had not already been seen. Then, with well practiced agility and stealth, Destral nimbly scaled the stack of crates, and peered into the window.

Save a few piles of crates, boxes, and barrels along the warehouse walls, it appeared to be largely empty. There were three men talking at the center of the warehouse floor, while two others appeared to be searching the crates. Destral recognized two of the men who were talking; Captain Gallagher of the Iron Fang, and his first mate, the muscular gnome. Shen was nowhere to be seen, but it stood to reason that if those two were here, the young man probably wasn't far away. Destral smiled grimly, his hand once more slipping to his sword.

The smile was stripped from his face as Destral felt his tunic grabbed from behind, and was suddenly dragged backwards off the top of the crates. He flew through the air for what seemed an impossibly long time, and hit the ground hard, his breath blasted from his lungs. He was scrambling to reach his feet when a pair of huge hands suddenly closed around his shoulders, and lifted him easily off the ground. In the dark all Destral could tell about his attacker was that the man was huge. Unable to draw enough breath for a spell, Destral fumbled futilely for his sword. The giant gave a roar of anger, and flung Destral through the air like a rag doll. The swordsman smashed into the stack of crates, smashing one of them under the brutal force of the impact. His chainmail vest saved Destral's ribs from a similar fate, but the blow left him stunned, and he could offer little resistance as the giant picked him up with one hand, and began dragging him towards the front of the warehouse.

"What the hell is a goin' on out there?" Destral heard a familiar voice shout as he was dragged roughly inside the warehouse. The giant hauled him to his feet, keeping an iron grip on his shoulders that afforded Destral little movement. Destral blinked repeatedly, trying to force the haze and stars from his vision. When at last it cleared, Destral found himself face to face with the bronze skinned, salt and pepper haired Tinbuk. At the pirate captain's right was the gnome, and at his left was a man in a black cloak with violet hair that covered his eyes. The two men who had been searching the warehouse and the two guards from the street were circled around them. Destral couldn't get a good look at the man holding him, but judging by his sheer size and the leathery texture of his skin, the swordsman guessed that the brute wasn't quite human.

Tinbuk looked up at Destral's captor with a wide smile. "Nice job, Borno. That's one down."

"Where is he?" Destral grated through his teeth, still struggling to draw breath. "What have you done with him?"

Tinbuk looked at him with genuine curiosity. "Who?"

"Shen. Where is Shen? Tell me!"

"That's funny," Tinbuk replied with a grin, "we was a just 'bout to ask ya the same question. Where is little ol' 'Tobias' gotten himself off to now?"

"I'm not the one who kidnapped him!" Destral spat.

"All right. How 'bout Maoban? Where is that fat bastard?"

Destral blinked. They were looking for Maoban too? Was this some sort of trick? Or had Maoban betrayed them as well? "I... I don't know. I haven't seen him since this afternoon. What in Avernus is going on here?"

The pirate captain crossed his arms over his scarred, bronzed chest. "Yeah, that is what I is a wonderin' too. Tell me what ya did after ya got off my ship."

Destral considered it for a moment. There seemed to be little point in withholding that information. After all, if Tinbuk was also looking for Maoban, then maybe Destral would be able to use Tinbuk to find Shen. And besides, Destral really didn't have much to tell. "Maoban took us to see Captain Evie. I haven't seen Maoban or Shen since then." The swordsman's eyes suddenly went wide as realization dawned on him. "You don't work for Evie, do you!"

"Not for all the rum in Toren," Tinbuk snorted. "Ya talked to her?" Destral nodded. "'bout what?"

"I was trying to arrange a ride to Ahren. That's all."

"Has she already taken Sinister off the island?"

"I was told he was here." More and more questions began to spring up in his mind. Had Jan lied to him, or had Evie lied to Jan? And why?

Tinbuk just nodded thoughtfully for a moment. Then he turned to the man with purple hair. "Anything dangerous on him?"

"The ring," the dark cloaked man answered simply.

Tinbuk then looked up at Destral's captor. "Let's have his hand, Borno." The brute jerked up on Destral's arm, exposing the hand the bore the Ring of Souls. The purple haired man than slipped the ring off Destral's finger with the skill of a professional pickpocket, and handed it to Tinbuk. It happened so quickly that Destral didn't even have time to object. "Bring him over here," the pirate captain again addressed the giant, motioning to a crate next to the wall. Destral, struggling against the giant's grip, was lifted from his feet and carried to the indicated crate. "Hold his hand out." One of the giant's hands took Destral by the wrist, and laid his hand out flat on the lid of the crate. "Here's the deal," Tinbuk said, once more speaking to Destral. "Maybe ya is tellin' the truth, maybe not. So now, unless you can tell me something more interesting, Kungah is a gonna smash your hand up." The muscular gnome produced a wicked mace from his belt, and held it over Destral outstretched hand.

"To Avernus with you!" Destral spat. "I told you, I'm not the bloody kidnapper here!"

"If ya say so," Tinbuk shrugged. "Guess ya won't be needin' this, then." The pirate captain grinned as he slipped Destral's ring on to his own finger. "Just remember, ya got two hands, so ya got another chance at this." He nodded to Kungah, who raised the mace over his head. Destral could only grit his teeth.

"Wait!"

All eyes turned as a man with dark, olive brown skin and long black hair entered the warehouse. He held his hands in the air, showing that he was not armed. One of the pirates immediately trained a crossbow on the new arrival.

Destral could barely believe his eyes. "Jan?" he muttered. He had hardly expected the gypsy to come to his aid.

"Who the hell is this?" Tinbuk demanded.

"You want to find Sinister, right?" Jan answered. "He doesn't know where he is. I do."

Destral's jaw dropped. "What?" he gasped quietly, barely able to speak at the moment.

"That right?" Tinbuk asked.

"But there's a condition," Jan said. "Two of them, actually."

"I is a listenin'."

"Sinister's not on the island anymore. I can tell you where they're taking him. When you go after them, you take he and I with you." Jan motioned to Destral. "Not as prisoners. As guests. That's the first condition."

"The second?"

"The ship they have Sinister on is fast, and they already have a big lead on you. There's no way you'll catch them. But I know where in the city they're going to take him. I'll tell you once we reach the port. Then, you let us go, and you can have Sinister. I've got no particular use for him."

Tinbuk glanced once at his companions, and then shrugged. "Sound good to me. So, where is they takin' him?"

Jan met Destral's angry glare as he answered. "Waveshore."

The pirate captain looked to the cloaked man, who nodded. "She does have connections in Waveshore," the purple haired man said.

"Now, ya saw what we was gonna do to him," Tinbuk said to Jan, motioning to Destral. "If we find out ya is lyin', it's gonna be a lot worse for the both of ya."

"Naturally," Jan nodded.

Tinbuk then turned to his men. "You four go round up the crew. We set sail in twenty minutes." Shouting out "aye, Sir!" the four pirates bolted from the warehouse, leaving Tinbuk, Kungah, the giant, and the man in black. "Hope you two is all packed to go," Tinbuk said with a grin, looking to Jan and Destral, "'cause we is a headin' for the ship. Now." With that, Tinbuk strode from the warehouse. Kungah and the giant, a half-troll now that Destral got a better look at the ugly brute, herded the gypsy and the swordsman after him, and the man with purple hair brought up the rear.

"You didn't tell me you knew where they were taking Shen," Destral hissed to the gypsy under his breath as the group walked out into the evening air.

"I didn't figure it out until a little bit ago," Jan answered. Evie had, Jan believed, told him exactly where she was taking Shen, probably because she thought he was too stupid to figure it out. Much to his own surprise, Jan recalled that when Evie had so brazenly displayed her breasts at the end of their conversation, the Waveshore crest was stretched across them.

"You lied to me," Destral growled. "You set me up, you... you blasted gypsy!" Kungah actually laughed at Destral's anger.

"Yeah, well, I suddenly developed a conscience about it too," Jan spat back. "So just be glad you still have both hands."

"What's your game, gypsy?" Destral said, biting of each word with contempt. "What are you up to?"

"I don't want to be anybody's assassin," Jan answered without looking at Destral. "I don't want to set people up to get killed. That's not what I do for a living. I just want off this island at the moment, and I figure at this point, so do you. So let's just leave it at that."

They walked in silence for a while, making their way back to the harbor. "There's one other thing you should know," Jan whispered after a while, once he believed that the three pirates were no longer listening to them.

"What?" Destral whispered back.

"I don't exactly know where in Waveshore their going to take him."

For what might have been the hundredth time that day, Destral's eyes attempted to leave his skull. He wisely refrained from blurting anything out that might alert the pirates, and waited a moment to calm down before he spoke again. "What are we going to do, then?"

"Well, it's about a week or so to Waveshore. Should be plenty of time for my new conscience to come up with another brilliant plan. I hope."

Shen woke slowly, and reluctantly. His head was pounding, his stomach was twisted in knots, his muscles ached, and his vision was nothing but a haze. It took him quite a while to remember what had happened to him. He had been in the Captain's house... Destral had gone upstairs... he had decided to leave... just as he reached the door, he heard someone say "going somewhere, Mister Sinister?" Then something stung his neck, and that was all he could remember. It was, Shen realized at last, a textbook kidnapping. No noise, no witnesses. Destral probably didn't even realize he was gone, assuming they hadn't simply killed Destral upstairs.

Now he found himself in what appeared to be the hull of a ship, judging by the damp wooden planks and the continuous bobbing of the floor beneath him. His hands and feet were bound with rope, and he was sitting on the floor, a rope around his chest binding him to a heavy barrel. There was a guard sitting on the nearby stairway to the upper decks, his eyes closed and his face resting heavily in his palm as he slept. Shen's vision faded constantly between clarity and haze. His head and stomach felt as though both were going to explode. It was a long, painful moment until the young man could gather the presence of mind to realize what was happening to him.

"Hey!" he shouted, trying to draw the guard's attention. Just the effort of shouting made his head spin. "Hey! Wake up, damn it!"

The pirate snorted, nearly falling off the stairs as he bolted awake. "Wha... oh, you're awake now, are ya? Well, you just keep quiet, or I'll slap a gag on ya."

"In my pack, there's a... a bottle of white solution," Shen struggled to speak over labored breaths, "and a set of syringes. If... if you want me to be... alive when we get... where we're going... I need a shot."

"I said shut up!" the pirate answered, taking a few steps towards Shen and waving a wooden rod menacingly.

The only response Shen could offer was a mouthful of watery vomit on the pirate's boots. The pirate began to curse him loudly, but Shen couldn't hear him over the ringing in his ears. He vomited again, this time spitting up blood. His body began to shake violently against the ropes that held him, and Shen lost his lucidity, his mind swimming in the sickness and pain.

When he again came to his senses, the pirate guard was backing away from him, the wooden rod clutched in one hand, and an empty syringe in the other. Behind him stood the paunch pirate Shen recognized as Maoban. The front of the young man's clothes were wet with vomit. He had no idea how long he had been incoherent. Spitting the last bits of coppery blood from his mouth, Shen looked up at his captors.

"I need those shots three times a day, at least," the young man said calmly, though his single blue eye burned with hate.

"You're worth just as much dead as alive, you know," Maoban told him, "but it's bad luck to have somebody die like that on your ship."

Shen sighed heavily, nodding. "On the Iron Fang, how long did it take you to recognize me?"

The older pirate laughed. "I knew you right off, boy. Hell, Raffordy has made sure every bounty hunter from here to the bleedin' Scorched Isle has your picture now."

"Raffordy? Who is Raffordy? Where are you taking me?"

"You're lucky, you know. We aren't even taking you to Evergreen. Odds are, the Paper Factory will be a lot kinder to you than Raffordy would." Maoban sneered. "At least, as long as you tell them everything they want to know."

"Who the hell is this Raffordy you keep talking about?"

"The guy who took your job. What, you been livin' in a cave since you ran out of there?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Shen asserted in frustration.

"Ahhh, c'mon. You can be honest with me. I didn't like your dad any more than I like you." Maoban stepped around the pirate guard, carefully avoiding the stains of Shen's vomit and coming to kneel at the young man's side. "I gotta know... what did it feel like, pushing your old man out that window?"

Shen's chest suddenly felt as if there was an empty space where his heart had once resided, and he once more tasted bile in his throat. "Wha... what did you say?"

"The rumor is you hired somebody else to do it. But I figure, that can't be true. Tough guy like you? If it was me... if I was gonna off my own dad... I'd wanna do it myself. You know what I mean, don't you? There's just no satisfaction if you don't do it yourself, you know?"

Shen's lips moved, but produced no sound other than whispers and squeaks. His head fell slowly, and his body again began to shake, though not as violently as before.

"Is he freakin' out again?" the other pirate asked.

"Nah," Maoban answered, rising from the floor. "He's cryin'. Big, tough mob boss, cryin'. Go figure." He shrugged. "I'll have somebody come down later and rinse that crap off him. For now, just let him soak in it."

Maoban returned to the upper deck, and the guard promptly went back to sleep.