Keelin ground his teeth at the display, and his hands clenched into fists.
“Can you break down their numbers by their skill sets and previous occupations?” Kebble said, stepping forward and gently moving Keelin aside with a hand on his shoulder. The sharpshooter gave his captain a brief glance before turning to Somolus Tain. “It would help us to decide upon the number we wish to purchase.”
As the guild master began to quote numbers to Kebble, Keelin jumped off the platform and walked among the slaves. He saw men and women of all creeds and races. He saw some who were clearly from the World’s Edge mountains, north of the Five Kingdoms. Not many folk grew so large, and there was a fierce pride in their eyes that no amount of whippings or beatings could tear out of them.
Keelin saw black skins from the southern Wilds and the painted faces of Riverlanders. He saw men and women with golden hair that suggested they were from Sarth, and many and more with the olive skin of those who called the Dragon Empire their home. There were folk from every kingdom arrayed before him, and all stood quietly while they awaited a decision as to their fates.
Keelin stopped in front of a tall, broad woman who had the look of someone who had once been well muscled, but poor conditions had led to some withering. Her hair was short, dark, and wiry, and her nose was bent.
“What’s your name?” he said.
“Eldred,” the woman said in an Acanthian accent.
“You know how to fight?” She looked up into Keelin’s eyes, and there was danger there. However she might have been treated, it hadn’t been enough to put out her fire.
“I do,” she said.
Keelin looked back up at the platform, where Kebble was still in deep conversation with Somolus Tain. The slaver’s guards were busy keeping watch on the slaves as a group, rather than Keelin’s conversation with a single woman.
“How did you come to wear a collar?”
The woman glared at Keelin for a moment, then dropped her eyes. “By way of debt, sir.” She spat the final word.
Keelin laughed softly. “I am no knight. I’m a pirate. You can call me Keelin, or Captain Stillwater. Whichever makes you happiest. How did debt give you a collar?”
Again the woman looked up at Keelin. This time there was suspicion in her eyes. “I was part of a mercenary company in the Dragon Empire. Small but competent. We travelled around looking for folk in trouble, and fixed that trouble so long as they could pay. We hunted foul people and creatures alike. Rarely stopped to think about the consequences.
“After one successful mission to eradicate a lair of urrlas, we ended up spending a bit more than we earned. Quite a bit more, actually.” Eldred stopped and took in a ragged breath before sighing it out. “We couldn’t pay the debt, and instead of allowing us to work it off the local town magistrate called on his prince.
“Before we even realised how fucked we were, we had a dragon fly down on us. Reat got ate by the fucking monster, and the rest of us threw down our weapons rather than follow his lead. Magistrate thanked the prince and sent him on his way. Then promptly called this buggering lot to come and slap collars on us. Reckon he got paid a good few bits for the trouble.”
“They haven’t managed to sell you yet?”
The woman gave Keelin a lopsided grin. “Folk don’t tend to want to stick weapons in the hands of their slaves, and there ain’t much else I’m good for than swinging a length of steel.”
Keelin glanced first to his left and then to his right. There seemed to be a good number of folk who looked like they knew how to swing a sword.
“What would you give for your freedom?” he said.
“Ain’t got nothing to give,” she replied quickly.
“Sure ya do.” Keelin smiled. “You’ve got your allegiance.”
Eldred narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, sure. Reckon I’d give that.”
“What about the others?” Keelin gestured to the rest of the slaves.
“Can’t say for certain, but I reckon most would give anything they could to be out of this fucking iron.” Eldred tugged on her collar to make her point.
Keelin turned and went quickly back to the stone platform, leaping up the steps to join his two crew members and Somolus Tain.
“How are the numbers, Morley?” he said.
“Pricey, but we can afford them with the money Drake gave us. How we’d get them all home, I don’t know.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Are they all to your liking, Captain Stillwater?” Somolus Tain said, still sounding smug.
“We’re about to find out.” Keelin grinned and turned to address the crowd of slaves.
“My name is Keelin Stillwater, captain of The Phoenix, and I sail under the flag of King Drake Morrass. The Pirate Isles are at war with Sarth and the Five Kingdoms, and we are trying to build the isles into a place where folk from anywhere can live the lives they please. We’re looking for men and women who can fight, who can sail, and who have a trade. What we’re offering you in return is your freedom.”
“Captain Stillwater…” Somolus screeched, stepping forward.
“Silence him,” Keelin roared, pointing at the slaver.
Kebble stepped behind the guild master and drew a long knife from his belt, holding it to the man’s neck. The guards started forwards, but stopped once they realised their master’s life was in imminent danger.
“What are you doing, Captan?” Morley said quietly.
“Making a statement, Morley. Letting everyone know the isles are open to all.”
“The slavers guild…”
“Fuck the guild,” Keelin hissed, low enough that no one else would hear. “Drake’s already declared war on them, just word hasn’t reached here yet. We take what we can for as little as we can, and get the fuck out of here before they decide to stop us.”
Morley looked caught between arguing further and following his captain’s lead. Luckily for them both, he chose the latter and backed off a step.
Keelin raised his voice to a shout again. “So there’s the deal. Anyone who wants their freedom can find it in the Pirate Isles. Ain’t gonna say it’ll be an easy life, but it will be whatever the fuck you want it to be.” He turned to stare at Somolus Tain, Kebble’s knife still at the man’s throat. “I’ll take them all,” he shouted.
The slaves began to speak, a loud murmur rising behind Keelin. Most of it sounded excited. Keelin approached the guild master.
“Say what you will, Tain.”
“We have a policy, Captain Stillwater,” the slaver said, his voice calm despite the knife at his throat. “We do not release slaves, nor sell to those who offer freedom.”
“You’re gonna break that policy this time,” Keelin growled. “I’ll take all these poor bastards, and I’ll even pay you full price for them. And you’re going to thank me for it. If you don’t, you’ll have to find yourself a new shipping route, because I’ll make sure we pirate every fucking slaver that passes within a hundred leagues of the Pirate Isles.”
“You would start a war with us over three hundred worthless lives?”
“Let him go,” Keelin said, and Kebble immediately stepped back, removing the knife from the slaver’s throat. The guards started forwards again with weapons drawn. “You’d be the one starting the war, Tain. I’m just trying to buy a bit of flesh from you. How do you think the slavers in Chade or Sarth will feel when they hear you fucked up their shipping lanes over a few hundred worthless lives?”
Somolus Tain waved for his guards to stand down. There was rage in his expression, but it was clear he was beaten.
“Have them ready for transport in three days, Tain,” Keelin said. “And no mistreatment of them. I want my product whole and intact.”
Somolus Tain nodded. “You will have your slaves, but know that you have made an enemy today, Captain Stillwater. I hope your king appreciates that.”