Returning to the stairwell almost an hour after their parting, Az was glad to catch sight of Rhea sitting quietly off to the side. His back laden with recent acquisitions, he gave her a big smile and made his way towards her. Even at a distance however, he could tell that something was wrong. Her back to the crooked railing, her small hoard of pouches and folded leaves held tight to her chest, Rhea watched him approach with accusing eyes. Standing before he reached her, she turned to lead the way down the stairs without saying anything.

“Everything alright?” asked Az, coming abreast with her.

Rhea didn’t look at him. “Just fine. I want to go back to the tavern.”

Az frowned. “I though we would have lunch first. The Buried Cutlass is a fine place to stay, but it’s far from the best place to eat in the city. Why don’t we stop on our way and try some of the food stalls?”

“No. It’s fine. I just want to go back.”

Reaching their floor, Rhea turned off the stairs and headed for the passage that led towards the public house. Following a step behind her, Az couldn’t help but be impressed that she had learned her way around so quickly. He wondered what had happened while they were separated, and was wracked with a pang of guilt for having left her alone. Hanging heavily in his pocket, the gift he had gotten for her ate at his conscience. So much for a nice surprise. He could not even bring himself to show it to her now, too embarrassed to reveal the triviality of the reason he had insisted on going off on his own.

As they made their way down one of the narrow lanes, the smell of frying flatbread filled the air. Az’s stomach rumbled. He had not eaten since their dinner the night before. Nor had Rhea for all he knew. Looking at the little hole in the wall from which the smell was coming, Az reached out to grab her arm. Thinking better of it, he stopped, calling out to her instead.

“One second, Rhea. I’m starving. Let me grab something quickly and we can bring it with us.”

Rhea sighed in irritation but did not protest, waiting impatiently as Az ducked into the tiny shop. Behind a low counter, a tiny man sat over a large pan of bubbling cooking oil. He greeted Az warmly, squinting up at him in the dim light, clearly happy at the prospect of a customer. Smiling broadly and tipping generously, Az emerged a few minutes later holding a folded leaf filled with large fried dumplings, and the two continued on.

When they reached The Buried Cutlass, Rhea cut across the common area and disappeared into her room without saying anything. Saddened, Az approached the barmaid. Giving her a silver coin, he asked her to bring in Rhea several of the dumplings, as well as some tea and a pail of warm water. Then he sat down by himself, eating his dumplings in dejected silence.

As evening approached, Rhea was still in her room and Az had begun to nod off where he sat. Since returning to the pub, he had done almost nothing but eat. Trying just about everything on the menu, he had even sent an errand boy to fetch more dumplings from the nearby shop. He had strongly considered going himself. Not knowing if he would ever be back to Islandnest, he regretted wasting his only full day there in the one pub with which he was already familiar. But he had decided to stay. Rhea was clearly upset about being left alone in the market. And he wanted to be sure he was there if and when she decided to come out of her room.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, several things happened almost at once. First, Rhea’s door opened at last. And, giving him only a quick glance, she made her way down the hall to the lavatory. Next, sweaty and somewhat out of breath, Venali burst into the public house followed by two men. Turning to them, Venali told his companions to stand guard in the hallway, before making his way quickly across the room to where Az was sitting.

“Azazel, my friend! Get your things, it’s time to go.”

“What do you mean?” said Az, blinking himself fully awake. “I thought the ship did not depart until dawn?”

“Afraid not. There’s been a slight change of plans.” Venali grinned, his tarnished golden teeth glinting darkly in the candle light. “The Islandnest High-Council has declared neutrality. They’ve agreed not to sell weapons to either Abaddon or Quarryhold, and the port authorities are seizing any ship loaded with arms. We sail now or never.”

Az frowned. “Give me a minute then. I must speak with my friend.”

“There’s really no time, we’ve got-”

Az held up a hand, signaling that he would not be swayed. Standing, he crossed the room, meeting Rhea in the hallway. Gesturing with his head, he led her into his room, closing the door after them. Not having lit the candle, the two spoke in near total darkness, the only light coming in through the crack in the door.

“I want to start by apologizing for what happened in the market. I should not have left you there. It was selfish and misguided. I-”

“Stop. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“Not really. But I’ll tell you that it made me trust that golden-toothed crook, Venali, even less than before.”

Az held a finger to his lips. “He is in the other room. He might hear us. We have a decision to make. Venali says that we must set sail now or the ship may be seized by the dock guards. That arms shipments to Quarryhold have been prohibited and that this is our last chance to go and make a real difference.”

“And you believe him?”

“I don’t know. But if he is telling the truth then that makes our mission all that much more important.”

“Well, I don’t. I think he read you like a book Az. He saw the way you reacted when he mentioned General Naberius, and now he is saying just what he thinks will have the greatest impact on you.”

“That is possible. But there may not be time to inquire and find out. Every second we wait is another second the dock guards can use to find and seize the ship. Rhea, I-”

“I know, I know. You have to do this. I don’t know why you insist on acting as though I have a choice.” Rhea shook her head. “I’ll get my things.”

Within minutes they had filled their packs and were stepping out into the passageway. There stood Venali and his two companions. The first was slim, with rounded shoulders and long greasy brown hair. He wore a satchel slung over one shoulder and at his belt was a crooked knife shaped almost like a boomerang. The other was both broad and tall, with a protruding belly, reddish beard and shaved mustache. He wore leather greaves, a thick leather lifting belt and had a massive bronze ax hung across his back.

“Azazel, Rhea, meet Elijah and Ammon.”

The group all nodded in greeting, eyeing one another up uncomfortably. Az did not like the look of these two. They were obviously mercenaries and sell-swords. And it was clear by their faces that they did not like the look of him either. Whatever Venali had planned, it seemed obvious that these two would be called on not just to keep the sailors in line, but to act as a counter balance to Rhea and himself, and vice versa. It was classic divide and conquer, a strategy as old as time.

The five started off down the passage, taking several quick turns and heading straight for the main hall. Passing the hut where the old man sat frying dumplings, they suddenly heard the sound of boots echoing up the passage behind them. Then came the sound of a voice.

“Halt!”

Looking over his shoulder as he continued to hurry forward, Az could see several Islandnest guards, armed with short-swords and dressed in uniforms of thick brown cloth. Their leader, a step out in front of the rest, called to them, sword in hand.

“By authority of the High-Council, you are under arrest for conspiracy to-”

From beside him, Elijah reached into his satchel and produced a small clay sphere with a short wick and a crude-looking lighter made of flint and folded tin. Sparking the lighter and igniting the wick, he threw the grenade back in the direction of the guards. Landing in front of them, it exploded, sending flames and shards of clay shooting into the dumpling shop, setting its curtains on fire.

Seeing this, Az was gripped with burning rage, thinking of the poor old man caught in the crossfire. He considered unsheathing his sword and killing Elijah on the spot. But it was too late for that. If the old man was injured, getting vengeance would make him no better. Besides, now he and Rhea were party to the crime. If they could have stopped and talked their way out of things a moment ago, they certainly could not do so now. The only way to avoid submitting themselves to the power and judgment of others was to make it out and away from the city. And for that he would need Venali and his murderous thugs.

Reaching the great hall, the group pushed their way through the sparse evening crowd and headed for the gate. There stood two guards. They were slouched lazily by the door, but hopped to attention as the rough looking band surged towards them, making to block their path.

Remarkably quick for a man of his size, Ammon sprinted out in front of the rest, pulling the ax from his back. One of the guards, unwilling to face death, simply turned and ran from his post. The other, having drawn his sword, froze, staring at Ammon like an oncoming boulder. One great sweep of the ax and he was hewn nearly in half, the group stepping over the gore as they passed through the gate and out into the open air.

Racing down the slope and onto the docks, Venali picked a small rowboat seemingly at random, telling the others to jump inside and cutting the rope with a knife of his own. With Az on one oar and Ammon at the other, the boat lurched quickly out past the end of the docks with Venali at the prow directing their motion. Behind them, they could hear clamour and confusion, as witnesses to this probable theft sent others running for the dock guards.

His strong arms working the oar, Az looked back over his shoulder at the shore and the lights of Islandnest flickering in the night. The smooth water reflected the stars, while the dark shadows of the shoreline came alight with the sparks of a hundred dancing fireflies. Rounding a point and leaving the bay, a ship came into view floating quietly a little way offshore. Outlined against the sky, its sail-less masts towering over them, it appeared to Az to have a strangely haunted quality. Not for the first time since their hasty departure from the tavern, he cursed himself for not listening to Rhea. What had he gotten them into? With whom had he climbed into bed? Only God and time could tell.

While still a way off, with every eye twisted to look at the approaching ship, they were met by the smell. Beyond description, the stink of ship seemed to suck the air from Az’s lungs. Plunging into the miasma, his eyes watered, and he could hear the chorus of curses and groans from Elijah, Ammon and Rhea beside him.

Still at the bow, Venali laughed. “Well, my friends. Behold The Katorga. Let's all pray that she floats better than she smells.”