The contention with the sailors continued. For how dare a woman defend herself? She ought to know not to be rescued from the deep by a ship full of men if she didn't want that sort of attention. That was the feeling Trosyn was getting from a lot of the crew. She was not alone in this subtle, or not-so-subtle persecution, as Volente was getting the rough end as well.

A shrill scream could be heard from the midshipmen's quarters, which was followed by raucous laughter of the sailors. Trosyn had been walking and talking with Doctor Hern when the ungodly sound rang out. Both of them hurried to the source, which ended up being Volente and Baldovo's quarters. Standing in the door, trembling like an overexcited pug, was Volente. Doctor Hern and Trosyn both peered over his shoulder.

Atop his cot was a severed pig's head, with the word 'Squealer' written in pitch on the wall. Assumedly, the scream came from Volente, as it was doubtful that a pig head could squeal once relieved of its body. The Doctor placed a hand on Volente's shoulder and Trosyn shook her head. "Don't worry, Volente, grab your salts and I will clean this up."

"What? No... no you needn't clean up after them!" Volente said, his voice a mixture of fear and contempt as he stepped back, drawing a gaze towards where the laughter was coming from.

"Someone needs to clean it, and I doubt any of them will step forward. Don't worry, I've become proficient at removing blood stains." Trosyn responded. The Doctor lifted an eyebrow at this boast but said nothing.

"I'm going to have a word with the ship's butcher. They had to have gotten the pig's head from somewhere," Doctor Hern said firmly. He turned and stalked off, in an ill humour. Volente stepped in lightly, giving the bloodied cot a wide berth, almost as if the pig's head would reanimate and bite him. He tried not to look as he gingerly snatched up his bag of wonder cures and then quickly skittered out of his room. As he stepped out, releasing a long held breath, Baldovo arrived.

"What's all the fuss?" he asked, and then peered into his room. His eyes widened for a moment, but any impact the grizzly scene had was brief before his eyes relaxed into half-lidded drollness. "Oh, looks like we'll be having pork tonight."

Volente made a whimpering sound as his shoulders convulsed, his handkerchief going quickly to his mouth, lest his gagging actually produce something untoward. "Baldovo, take Volente to get some air." Trosyn said, rolling up her sleeves.

"Yes ma'am," Baldovo responded with an exaggerated salute, before slinging an arm about Volente's shoulders and leading him away. "Boys will be boys." As they crossed the deck, a series of snorts, squeals, and other porcine onomatopoeia followed them. Trosyn scowled in their direction, but then quickly set to work.

----------------------------------------

"Trosyn, you look exhausted!" Volente fussed. He grabbed a nearby stool and set it beside one of the chairs at their table, turning the chair to face it. He gestured to her. "Please, put your feet up!"

Trosyn, indeed, had a haggard appearance that day. Even her freckles seemed to have grown pale, and the few wisps of red hair which escaped the hat she'd tucked it under were clinging to her cheeks. Purple and red hues darkened the skin just under her eyes, and she stood at an angle as if she might teeter over. Trosyn did not object to the chair offered, putting up her feet as instructed. The jeering from a couple sailors across the room had little effect on her as she laced her fingers together and set them on her stomach.

"We were just putting our brains together on how to effectively get some revenge," Baldovo conspired.

"No. We weren't," Colto refuted. Baldovo chuckled.

"This can't go unanswered, and running to the captain or his mate will make things worse," Baldovo insisted. Trosyn craned her neck to look over at the impish man.

"Oh? Was one beating not enough for you?" Trosyn asked, eyebrow arched. Baldovo laughed, holding up his hands with the palms out.

"Alright, alright. Play with fire and I'll burn down the ship. I get it," Baldovo responded. He coughed lightly, thumping his chest with his fist.

"Do you want to head back to your quarters early, Trosyn?" Volente asked fretfully, as if he dreaded she would answer 'yes'.

"I'm down now and won't be standing anytime soon. So I might as well resume my story."

"Oh! Splendid! Erm. Benold just, uh, did something with the bracelet that hurt you somehow? I'm not sure..."

The slave bracelets. Each one was connected to a matching key. Anyone who held that key and said the power word could cause pain to the wearer. The key was also required to remove the bracelet. I'm not sure how they got any spirits to enchant these bracelets, as spirits had become increasingly wary or hostile towards humans, with a few exceptions such as the Coblynau.

Benold and I left the fort. He told me he'd be returning the next day. There was a silence between us as we both stared out the window of his carriage.

"I am sorry. It didn't hurt too bad, did it?" Benold asked, not daring to look at me. I had nothing to say to him.

I'm not sure how much longer we travelled before he looked at me and spoke again. "I didn't want to hurt you. But I didn't want to be esteemed any less of a man in their eyes."

I kept my eyes on the window as I listened. Even though the physical pain had subsided, I was still feeling a heaviness in my chest which made it hard to speak. I worried if I did, I might scream. And I didn't want the coachman to hear that. What if he used the key again? So I kept silent. But this just upset him more.

"What would you have me do?" he asked me. I bit my tongue. He went on to remind me that I was the one who asked to come, knowing that they were far less gentle and refined than he. I bit my lip. He then ordered me to look at him. So I did. But I don't think he liked what he saw. I'm not sure what my face was doing, but it must have been something because he suddenly looked stricken and he looked away. "...I am sorry." he repeated.

Nothing more was said on the rest of the trip, or the rest of the evening. I still carried out my duties, which included bringing him his dinner. And although he tried to engage me in conversation, pretending nothing was wrong, I did not play along as I had in the past. This disquieted him. I could tell by the two empty wine bottles I found when I went into his study early the next morning. He hadn't risen yet.

To his surprise, when he did finally stir, I had a honey brew, toast and eggs ready for him.

"Honey Brew?" Volente asked.

"Warm drink infused with rose hips and honey. It's good for mornings after," Trosyn explained.

"Mornings after... oh you mean crapulence?" Volente asked. This earned Volente an empty stare from Trosyn. Baldovo and Colto joined in, all three turned to Volente who shrank at the sudden attention. Volente cleared his throat. "C-continue."

I had some time to think over what had happened. I was still vexed, but I knew I could not carry on like that. So a remedy for a sour stomach and an aching head seemed a goodwill gesture. He accepted the tray, mumbled a thank-you and then closed the door. But my efforts weren't wasted, as when he had time to freshen up he did summon me.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He asked if I was done sulking, which wasn't the best foot for him to start on. I just told him that, yes, as a matter of fact, I had finished sulking. This may have seemed glib, but I needed to test him. I needed to know what he said about never hurting me while in his own home was true. He wasn't impressed, but let it pass and asked me in a distant, overly polite tone if there was anything else I needed to say before he got ready to leave.

"Take me with you," I said. He was bemused by my request, and he didn't have a chance to ask. I told him that I took the fall for the servant girl because I felt bad for her. He seemed somewhat relieved, admitting that sounded more like something I would do. It confused him when I was reported as breaking a bottle of spirits while pilfering from the cellar.

But then he finally asked, "After what happened, why would you want to go back there?"

"I don't want to go back. But to satisfy my honour, I need to go back." Benold squinted at me, and he was right to be wary. I wasn't speaking a lie, but I was using the truth to try and deceive him. Honour was often his horse, I seldom rode it. But his vanity, I suppose, won him over.

"I must be rubbing off on you after all," he said, lifting his nose. "If I have to discipline you again, you aren't allowed to sulk."

I accepted those terms. I was still bothered by the situation, but I had my debt to the Asion to discharge. I was determined to try and get word of Creena back to her people. Perhaps it was foolhardy of me. But I had my own code of honour, I just didn't call it that.

So back into that detestable fortress we went. When Benold arrived with me in tow, I could see some surprise from Sintol, intrigue in Vormind, and irritation from Commander Slacht. But these were brief, passing impressions. No one paid me much mind afterwards. As before, I waited on Benold hand and foot and offered to help in the kitchen, as I knew they would lunch together.

The cook wasn't pleased to see me, but I kept my head down and did everything asked of me, shrugging off the constant verbal abuse and occasional rough handling. I also took whatever opportunity I could to keep my ear to the ground and see if I could hear anything useful. Unfortunately, there wasn't much.

When lunch was finished, and we ate, I tucked everything except the small cup of soup we were served into my pouch. Once again I sneaked off, this time scouting out the entrance to the dungeon for my chance to slip in. Eventually the guard posted there grumbled and went to go find his replacement who was late. There may have been something in the soup that would encourage his replacement to be late.

I went down into the dungeon. I won't offend your sensitivities by describing it. Nothing down there astonished me; it was nothing I hadn't experienced before. Creena was not the only prisoner. But she was the only woman. Still, I asked if she was Creena. She said nothing. I offered her the food I had saved and she didn't move. I asked her if there was anything she wished to tell Asion. Finally, she turned her head, her pale eyes focusing on me.

"How do you know Asion?" she asked.

"I am in debt to her," I answered.

"Then free me," Creena said, her stare intense. Under such a gaze I wanted to. But...

"I cannot. I am just a slave. I have no power. Tell me what I can tell them. But quickly, I don't have much time." I urged her.

"The Kombani are courting the Defilers. I am to be a host to the horned one. And if I am rejected, a sacrifice. I will kill myself first, if I must."

This information left me feeling an odd sort of tingle in my chest; more was going on here than land disputes. I began to question having advised Sintol. Then I remembered Benold telling me of dealings with the Unseelie Eye. Things were coming together and I had a bad feeling. I offered her the bread and fruit I had saved once again but she refused. I didn't push the matter. I got out of there as quickly as possible.

The guard had returned to his post by then. I walked out calmly, as if I was supposed to be there. When the guard grabbed me, I feigned surprise and then fear, saying I wasn't aware I'd done anything wrong, and that I was on an errand for my master and was given bad directions. I simpered and cried and begged for clemency. Eventually the guard let me go.

It was a gambit. There was always the chance he'd report it to someone who would know better. But all that mattered to me was to get back to Benold's estate. I suppose at that point, I thought of it as home. Yes. I just needed to get back home.

The rest of my stay there was without incident. I was right where I was told to wait, and this time Benold had no cause to discipline me in front of the others. I heard Vormind remark something about me being a quick learner. I was grateful when I was back in the carriage. But I had to figure out how to contact Asion. I also pondered on whether or not I should be asking Benold about it. But that would mean admitting to sneaking around places I knew I was forbidden to go. It was a tough decision. How much could I really trust Benold?

This thought weighed heavy on my mind. So later that evening when Benold asked to speak with me after dinner, I was unsettled when he brought up the matter of my concubinage. What had seemed like a promising situation before was now looking like a dismal fate.

"I almost have all the new family laws in place. And then we can finally be together." Benold said to me. He'd seemed grim earlier, so to have him shift to excitement, or as much excitement as he'd let himself express, was disconcerting. The words, 'finally be together' rang in my ears. It sounded like a happy couple dreaming of upcoming nuptials. That was not the reality. I must not have hidden my dismay, because his excitement quickly melted. "Ah. Right. You... are probably still upset about the bracelet."

I was, but it wasn't my main concern by that point. I shook my head. But he interrupted me before I could speak. "No, I understand. But I promise you once you are my... my... consort, that won't happen again. I'll remove your bracelet." That was not one of the things we agreed upon, and so I was genuinely surprised, and must have expressed as much. He seemed to take it as a slight that I was surprised but continued to explain. "I've commissioned earrings for you instead that will be a sign of your, uh, of you belonging to me. I don't want people seeing your bracelet and mistaking you for a common slave."

I won't deny that this alleviated some of my apprehension. But the bracelet wasn't the only means he could use to hurt or control me. It was more that he was willing to use it that upset me. Still, this did seem a gesture of goodwill. He had an intention to try and treat me better than he had. I clung on to that. I said something along the lines of, "thank you for your consideration, Sir Benold."

"Please, when there's no one around, call me just Benold. With where things are headed, there's no need to continue these formalities behind closed doors," Benold insisted.

"Alright, Benold. Can I ask you a question?" I decided to just ask. The truth would come out, it always does. The important thing about damning truths is how to be their steward, bringing them out at the right time. "What are they going to do with Creena?"

This soured his mood quickly. It was rather impressive how he'd gone from grim, to excited, to apologetic, to... is that smoke?

Everyone first looked at Colto, but his pipe had long gone out and had been laying on the table in front of him. Quickly, the three scientists stood up in alarm, and Trosyn used her hands to lift her leg, manually bending her knee which had stiffened from a lack of mobility. A subtle haze wafted in from the galley, visually imperceptible in its diffusiveness, but the smell was telling another story. Colto was the first to rush over, and the other two trailed behind. They stood at the narrow opening which led into the kitchen, while Colto shimmied into the confined space.

Trosyn was about to approach, but a pain in her abdomen caused her to stop. She immediately sat back down, wincing. There was the sound of a clatter and Volente gasped. Unfortunately, gasping in smoke has an unfortunate side effect. That smoke wants to come right back out, with reinforcements. Volente was soon coughing and sputtering, while Baldovo went in to assist Colto.

Between the two of them they managed to bring out the Cook, who was unconscious, and presumably put out the fire. Volente just continued to cough. Baldovo waved impatiently at Volente, and then it dawned on him that perhaps, despite his coughing, he ought to go alert someone. For by then, no one else was in the mess but their small group.

Volente sprang off, still coughing as he went. Trosyn tried again to stand, this time walking carefully over to the cook so that she could kneel down and inspect him. He didn't appear to have any noticeable burns, though his face was looking a bit ruddy and sooty. With the help of Baldovo to roll him over, she could not find any visible wounds. She shook her head. "He's alive but I don't know what's wrong." She said. "What was on fire?"

"Food left cooking. I'm guessing Cook fainted, then the food continued to burn." Colto surmised, wiping sweat off of his brow.

"What was he cooking at this time of night?"

"Soup. All the water must have boiled off," Colto reported.

"Pity. I was looking forward to ham soup..." Baldovo said petulantly.

Trosyn frowned as she looked down at the cook, clearly troubled. It's possible he had been sick and didn't show or report his symptoms. But she also considered there may be something else at work here. Or was that just the effect of trudging up the past? When there were malevolent forces guiding her along that dreadful path?

"You alright?" Colto asked, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She tilted her head towards the strong hand that rest there.

"I will be, I hope." Trosyn murmured. He didn't say anything more. He didn't ask more. But his hand remained there until the doctor arrived. Then he rose to assist the doctor if needed, and Trosyn excused herself to go to her room and get some desperately needed rest. She was going to leave the solving of this mystery in the hands of Doctor Hern.