Lendle eyed her inquisitively. "WhoisthisfromMaquestaKarThon?" The questions tumbled from his rapidly-moving lips. "Whowouldgiveusfoodandcoins? Whereisyourfather? Didyoufinduswork? Didhefinduswork? Whathappenedtoyouthatyoulooklikethis? Wheredidthisstuffcomefrom?"
"From a devil," Maquesta replied quietly. "We're working for a devil."
She stood and looked down at her gnome friend. "For the moment, I am the captain of the Perechon. I need you to buy some supplies. I'll trust your judgment. We'll be sailing on a procurement mission for a few weeks. Make sure you have plenty of food to keep the crew full. That will help keep them happy. Now, I'm going to my cabin to take a hot bath. A very long, hot bath. I'll talk to you when you return."
Maquesta shuffled away from Lendle, who still had a dozen more questions he wanted answers to. She washed herself, threw away the clothes she'd been wearing for the past two weeks, and then promptly collapsed into her bunk where she slept for half a day.
In truth, she could have slept much longer, but a knock on the door from Lendle awakened her. Without waiting for an invitation, the gnome bustled in carrying a mug of tannic tea. He thrust it beneath her nose as she sat, yawning, on the edge of her bunk. The tea's astringent aroma filled Maq's head, snapping her wide awake. She took a sip. "What is it?"
"Nevermindjustdrinkit," Lendle admonished. "Itwillhelpyouheal."
"I'm afraid it will take more than a strong cup of tea to do that," Maquesta said ruefully.
Lendle assumed an attentive, listening air that encouraged confession, and Maquesta poured out the story of Attat's palace, the fight, Averon's death, the dungeon's horrors, the mission she had agreed to lead in search of the morkoth, and the expected additions to the crew.
"We must be back at Attat's by sunset tomorrow to collect Father and the new crewmembers. Then we must be ready to sail the next morning," Maq said. "I had better get together the crew to explain what's happening and see if anyone wants to drop out. I hope they'll stay on. We've lost too many people already."
Lendle nodded in agreement while he rubbed some sweet-smelling salve into open sores on Maq's shoulders and arms, the result of the dungeon's constant dampness and considerable insect population.
"What about Fritzen Dorgaard?" Maq asked. "Is he fully recovered?"
"His body healed amazingly fast. But not his spirit, I fear," Lendle answered. "He ever wears a mask of good nature, though, to hide all the scars he has inside. I think he will be glad of something to do, and I suspect he'll stay on with the crew. He has nothing now that the Torado is gone. He's a skilled seaman and will be a great aid to you."
Maquesta stretched her arms out to her sides, then brought them in and felt her ribs again. She thought about getting something to eat, but realized there were more important things for her to attend to first. "I'll have to prepare the crew for the presence of the sea elf," Maq said, thinking out loud. "If she doesn't hold herself too aloof, they will come to appreciate her talents. She did what she could during the fight in Attat's palace. I believe she prevented Father from being killed.
"The shadowperson, though, I do not trust." Maq scowled at her recollection of Ilyatha. "He was the one who divined our escape attempt and betrayed us to Attat. In fact, he was the one who played the flute of wind dancing that caused us to lose the race in the first place. You must help me keep close watch on him, Lendle. And try to keep your mind focused on simple things when he is about. He can poke into a person's very thoughts."
"I do not think I would like that, Maquesta Kar-Thon," the gnome said, trying hard to speak slowly.
"And did I tell you that a minotaur sailor will be joining the crew?"
"A minotaur!" Lendle said, scowling. "What magical abilities does he possess? He's the addition you'll have to pave the way for, after what we heard about how Attat and his lackeys treated you."
"Why? Have Hvel and Vartan been talking? Were they up and about before me?"
Lendle nodded vigorously. Maq frowned. She didn't want to be seen as requiring more rest and recuperation than her men.
Her men, she thought. Her ship.
"They were not as badly treated as you, I think," Lendle said, understanding her concern. "The stories they told about that place and its occupants, though, curled my toes," he added.
Maq grimaced. "Yes, but this minotaur, Bas-Ohn Koraf, was not one of Attat's beastly minions. He was his prisoner. And he helped us break out of the dungeon. He's an ugly cur, but far different from Attat, I think," Maq said.
"But Attat, him we must be careful of, even tomorrow when we are supposedly there to do his bidding. That one is smooth on the outside, but all jagged, poisonous, and evil on the inside. If it weren't for the fact that he holds Melas, I'd say we should just take off in the Perechon, forget the debt, see if he could catch us."
Maq pursed her lips. "Vartan and Hvel told you about Father?"
The gnome nodded sadly.
Maquesta stood on the upper aft deck, having just finished telling the Perechon crew, assembled below her on the main deck, about what lay ahead if they chose to stay with the ship under her command. Even before she had begun to speak, Maq sensed a new level of respect from the sailors. By then, Vartan and Hvel's story about how she had led the escape attempt from Attat's dungeon was known to everyone on board.
"Does anyone not want to ship out? I'll not hold it against you, nor will Melas. When it's time for him to sail again, I'm sure you can rejoin the crew. No hard feelings."
The men's silence gratified Maq.
Fritzen leapt up onto the steps leading from the main deck to where Maquesta stood. "Let's hear it for the new captain of the Perechon," he shouted. "If we close our eyes, it's just like being captained by Melas Kar-Thon, himself. But once we open them, we know we're much luckier than that!"
The sailors erupted into cheers and whoops of laughter.
Maq blushed and grinned broadly. "Only that the first seaman who tries to sail with his eyes closed on this voyage is bullshark fodder," she called out to more laughter. "Now that we're all agreed that we'll make the voyage, let's get to work."
Fritzen, cutting a handsome figure, bowed jauntily to Maquesta as she passed him on the steps. His bronzed skin showed a hint of green, which Lendle told her displayed health in the half-ogre. His long blond hair was neatly braided and tied with a new leather thong, and he had shaved off the stringy mustache that used to dangle above his lip. Maq mimicked a bow in return and hurried to the galley. She was ravenous and decided now was the time to attend to filling her rumbling belly.
Fritzen was not with Maquesta when she set off for Attat's estate late the following afternoon. Minotaurs were far from his favorite creatures, he said. "I'd rather sail in to the rescue, than risk endangering you in the first place by losing my temper in front of their foul lot."
"You should try to overcome that blanket aversion you feel," Maq told him as she and Lendle climbed into the longboat. "Remember, one of them will be joining our crew, and we'll have enough on our hands without any fighting among ourselves."
"I think I can handle one minotaur," Fritzen said flatly. "He'll be in the minority here."
Eagerness and trepidation battled each other as Maquesta and Lendle cautiously entered Attat's compound. There were more sentries stationed in the courtyard this time, she noticed, and they were more heavily armed. She grinned slyly. Perhaps her having killed two of Attat's lackeys put the minotaur lord more on guard. She could not wait to see her father, but the thought of confronting Attat again caused the bottom of her stomach to fall away.