“Fine,” Maiya said, shoving the coin bag into Vir’s hand. “But I don’t like this.”
“Hey now, I didn’t say I’d be giving them back all the money, did I?” Vir said with a grin as he fished out a silver, which he handed back to Maiya. “Just returning what she had, plus a little extra.”
What remained in the bag were thirty coppers and two silvers. For the urchins, it was still a windfall.
Vir took a few paces to Barid and Alda and tossed them the sack. Their initial happiness turned slightly bitter when they inspected its contents, but they nodded back nonetheless.
“Oi! C’mere ’n help me with your beastie,” Bakura said, calling Vir over.
The big man led Bumpy up the ramp onboard the ship and tied him off to the mainmast, and when Vir looked back, the kids had already disappeared into the night.
The two friends followed behind the Ash’va.
“Vir?”
“Yeah?”
“I think… when we get back, could you keep sparring with me? I want to get better at Kalari. No. I need to.”
“Sure, but where’s this coming from?” Vir asked.
“When they captured us, I couldn’t do a thing. I slowed you down, since I couldn’t jump up to the rooftops. Sure, I helped us haggle prices and I can do makeup alright, but it’s not enough. I don’t want to go through anything like that again, Vir. Magic… isn’t enough. I need to get good at Kalari. So, will you help me? I want to get good at your acrobatics stuff too. I’m sick of being clumsy.”
“Of course, I’ll help. I’d be happy to!”
Maiya nodded, a look of determination plastered on her face.
The moment Vir stepped foot onto the ship, he knew this was going to be an experience. The entire ship swayed rhythmically underfoot. He immediately compensated, maintaining his balance, but Maiya grabbed him to stabilize herself.
“What?” Bakura barked. “Never been on a boat before?”
“Oh no,” Vir said. “We have. Several times. My brother’s just not very good with ships.”
“Then ye’ll be wanting to stay abovedecks. If ya need to barf, do it over the side. You might be ’ristos, but my crew ain’t cleaning up yer mess.”
A dozen Lighten Load orbs embedded in the hull at regular intervals glowed with prana one by one as the sailors went around powering them.
“No way!” Vir exclaimed, entirely forgetting his disguise. “A pranasail?”
If Bakura found it suspicious that Vir got so excited over such a small thing, he didn’t show it. In fact, he beamed proudly. “Not quite, boy. The orbs help, but we ain’t got no mejai aboard to power wind to our sails.”
Vir expected the ship to lurch up out of the water, but no such thing happened, making him wonder if they weren’t working properly. Then, oars from belowdecks extended out the side, and the ship glided away from port faster than Vir thought possible.
The wind picked up once they’d made it out into Saran Bay. Sails unfurled, the oars retracted, and the ship picked up even more speed, cutting through the waves as if it floated on the water.
Maiya spent the entire time grasping the railing, single-mindedly focused on breathing deeply, doing everything she could to keep from doing something unsightly.
Vir had no such issues. And even if he did, it was his first time aboard a ship! Nobody would stop him from exploring every nook and cranny, even in this darkness. Prana Vision had abated, so he had Maiya charge her Magic Candle orb, which he took with him. After walking around the entire deck, he found a wooden door that led below.
Descending a steep staircase, he raised his orb high to illuminate the large room he’d just entered, for there was no other lighting down here.
Surprising, Vir thought. He’d expected to see the rowers down here. Maybe that’s another deck?
But the moment his orb shone upon the room, Vir’s blood ran cold. Bile welled up in his throat, and he felt the need to puke. Not from seasickness, but from what lay within the ship’s hold.
From aft to stern, from port to starboard, metal jail cells filled the entire ship. All packed to the brim with people, squeezed so tight they could hardly even move. And every single one had an iron collar around their neck.
They’d boarded a slaving ship.
37OF DEMONS & ASHBORN
Vir reeled as he walked deeper into the dark hold packed with sweat and slaves. Some slept. Others wept. And others still eyed him with predatory gazes. Both men and women were present. All dressed in soiled rags.
The only sounds in the hold were soft groans, the shuffling of shackles, and the creaking of the old wooden hull against the sea. Awfully quiet for a room packed with prisoners.
How did they end up here? Vir wondered. He’d heard of slaves, of course, but this was his first time seeing them. Some countries had outlawed the practice, but clearly, Hiranya wasn’t one of them.
He didn’t even want to guess what fate lay in store for these poor souls.
Vir stayed as far as possible from the cells as he could manage, but the narrow corridor that ran between them did little for his peace of mind.
Arms reached out and tugged his clothing, but emaciated as they were, they simply didn’t have the strength to do much to him. He swatted their arms and broke free of their hold.
Why am I even here? he asked himself. He should’ve turned back the moment he saw this room. But he didn’t. Something about the room called out to him.
And when he turned his Magic Candle upon the faces of the slaves, he understood.
Every slave here shared one trait in common—they all had red skin.
“D-Demons!” he whispered under his breath, stumbling back. A demon slave reached through the bars and yanked his shirt, pulling Vir off his feet. His head hit the jail cell, but not with enough force to cause any damage.
Vir broke out of his stupor and whipped around, freeing himself, and coming face to face with the red-skinned demon man who’d pulled him. Also, this demon had a pair of horns. Horns!
“Give us food!” the tall, gaunt figure said, extending an open hand out.
“S-stay back, demon!” Vir cried, nursing the welt on his forehead.
The man growled, showing his teeth. Vir sized him up. Apart from his red skin, the man—and everyone else—looked awfully human. Both the men and the women all had black hair. Some had red eyes, others were black, but all were devoid of life. Vir had never seen someone so far gone before, not even in the depths of the famine when food was scarce. He wondered if they would survive this journey.
“Please! I’m begging you. I don’t deserve this. My wife does not deserve this,” he said, gesturing down to a demon woman in a fetal position on the floor. She was either sleeping, or unconscious. “If you can spare anything, it could save her life. Nuts, fruit, anything! Please!”
“I—I don’t have…” Vir stopped, realizing he did have food on him. A whole rucksack’s load, in fact. He dropped his pack and fished out a small sack of nuts.
“Discreetly!” the man hissed, eyeing the others.
The problem was clear. Vir had never seen a shark, but everyone had heard of them. Of how they swarmed at the smallest drop of blood. Here, the slaves were the sharks, and his food the blood.
The prisoners here might fight to the death over his bag of nuts. And it wasn’t like he’d picked the most needy prisoner to help… It’d been a random decision, spurred by fear and misplaced guilt.
Why am I even helping these people? For all he knew, they’d committed some horrible crime to be locked up like this. But somewhere in his head, he just knew that couldn’t possibly be the case. These people didn’t look like hardened criminals. They looked… like scared, average people.