The crew chief called them around and shouted over the groans of the other work parties.
"We will be assisting a mage moving warriors out of stasis. Work as directed, and you may ask questions freely. We will have no accidents. Any accident or damage to the warriors will be severely punished. Now come on." He turned and walked down a steep stairway that led to the hold. The chief cuffed and bludgeoned his way through the slaves, then led Haddad and the rest below decks.
The hold was dark, and they went to a corner farthest from the light. A comparatively slender Keldon sat on his heels as slaves removed the last of several sacks from pallets and moved everything away from the hull. All Haddad could think of was coffins as he looked at several dozen long narrow crates stacked and tied down with cargo netting. They were even corralled by brackets secured to the body of the ship itself.
"Move the first one down carefully," the overseer instructed.
Haddad noticed that all the slaves were in good shape and took it as another sign of the value of the cargo. Four men moved in concert, talking to each other as they carefully unhooked the nets and unscrewed the brackets that locked the crates into a single static unit. They moved the top crate slowly onto a set of supports. The crew boss broke the seals and swung the lid open. A Keldon warrior in full armor, weapons, and other gear filled the interior of the crate.
"What the nine hells is going on?" he whispered to the man beside him. Given permission to ask questions, he was definitely going to take advantage.
"Just watch. It will all become obvious in a minute," the slave replied, though he too looked on in obvious interest.
The Keldon mage rose off his heels and approached the body. The slaves cleared away though they stayed close in case they were needed. The mage reached under his cloak and pulled out a censer and tinderbox. It took him a moment to light the censer, then he swung it just over the head of the still warrior in very small arcs. The smoke poured into the crate slowly, like thick honey, and seemed to be absorbed by the body. The mage chanted quietly but lacked the tension that Latulla exhibited when she practiced magic. When the apparent corpse opened his eyes and began to breathe deeply, Haddad was startled but not totally surprised.
"Welcome to the Land of Heroes," the mage said and continued to swing the smoking censer. "It will be at least a few minutes before you may rise. You and your brothers will find glory and honor in these lands."
The crew chief motioned for another crate to be set down.
"I am always surprised they wake up from that sleep," the slave standing beside Haddad commented as they waited their turn to work. Already another crate was being opened.
"The first time I thought it necromancy, as did you, I am sure." The sailor looked not much older than Haddad, but he sounded richly paternal as he shared knowledge with one who was ignorant.
"Keld is thousands of miles away, and they don't have the greatest ships despite their reputation as pirates. They could never ship enough people and supplies to this base without some tricks up their sleeves. The warriors without sufficient rank or power are boxed up like cargo and shipped here. They ingest a philter of a drug that freezes them in a deathlike state. The warriors lie down in crates, are dusted with certain powders, and then sealed up. They travel here without having to eat, drink, or engage in other activities."
The mage was chanting again and swinging the censer.
"A magic user isn't even necessary. It's the smoke that does the job. I've seen crewmen wake up warriors in transit without any magic at all. Just a match and a handful of leaves."
The crew boss waved Haddad and three others to replace the previous team. Haddad instantly realized why the slaves were all in good condition and were being rotated on the detail. The crate was solidly constructed, and the Keldon inside was not light. The slaves all exercised great care, realizing that their punishment would be swift and sure should they mishandle anything. Even with the weight and danger of punishment, the job soon became simple repetition. However, as Haddad and his crew reached the bottom layer of crates, the job became anything but routine.
Haddad was opening a crate, and as he began to lever up the lid, he noticed the smell. The stink of the bilge prevented his nose from noticing before. It was semisweet, but it tickled the back of his throat, and he had to repress the urge to gag. Remembering the permission granted him to ask questions, he spoke to the overseer.
"I think there's a problem here."
The crew boss was talking quietly to other workers on the detail but came over instantly at Haddad's interruption. The mage also rose from his crouch and approached.
"What is it?" the Keldon demanded.
"It's an odor, Lord. It is only noticeable up close but seems very strong," Haddad explained.
They had been working for quite some time, and the hold was deserted. The mage called for another light to be lit so he could see the crate. He held the lantern and inspected the crate closely. His cry of anger drove most of the other slaves away. Haddad knew it was dangerous, but he had to know what provoked such a reaction. The mage turned and loomed over Haddad, his face flushed and dark as a storm cloud.
"Get it open, right now!" he hissed, trying to reign in the usual Keldon impulse to take out anger on his inferiors.
Haddad silently set the point of his crowbar into the latches and threw his weight onto it. Unlike the earlier crates, there was no rush or puff of air as a seal was broken. The smell grew stronger as he worked the other latches, each release seemed more odorous than the last. When the last catch was thrown, the mage could restrain himself no longer. He reached past Haddad's shoulder and threw the lid wide open.
It took Haddad's eyes a moment to evaluate the contents of the crate. The slaves with the lamps retreated as Haddad tried to puzzle out what the warrior was wearing. Then a lamp holder moved closer, and the technician could see clearly. The coffin was alive with insects and maggots. The insignificant creatures retreated under and into the body as the light drove them to cover. The features of the warrior were twisted, and he seemed to grimace as parasites under the shrunken skin moved. Haddad looked on in horror for only a moment and then turned his head aside. He fell to his hands and knees. Everything he had eaten that morning spewed out as spasms racked his body. When Haddad could finally stand, he could see the other slaves had retreated away from the mage. The Keldon's body radiated tension that usually signaled magic. The less knowledgeable slaves saw it as blinding rage. Haddad wondered which it was as he spat and tried to clear his mouth, wishing vainly for some water.
"Filth," was all the mage said as his hand pointed at the corpse, but Haddad felt the flash of heat rising from the crate. The sound of the body cooking and the destruction of the parasites in the crate were the only sounds. Haddad could see the wide eyes of the other slaves as they realized the danger of such magic in the confines of the ship's hold. Then the smell of meat cooking hit his nostrils and sent him to his knees again. He could think of nothing as his body tried to empty a vacant stomach.
Shouts of panic, Keldon panic, made him look up after vain attempts to be sick. One of the awakened Keldons had heard the commotion and then had seen the body and its heat treatment. At the sight of a magic user destroying the contents of a transport crate, the warrior drew a long knife.