A cool breeze began to blow as Rhea climbed from the rowboat up onto the deck of the Katorga. Looking around in the dim moonlight, she could not help but feel cornered, standing as she was with her back to the water, surrounded by the shadowy figures of the crew. Behind her, Az tossed up her pack then his own, and climbed up onto the deck next to her as she quietly took in her surroundings.

The ship was roughly three feet long. Resembling a junk, its hull had a gentle horse-shoe shape and stood almost eight inches above the water at its bow and stern, where oars could be seen protruding through small portholes. It had two masts, a large one in the center and smaller one at the front. Both were rigged with ribbed sails which lay collapsed on the deck. Overhangs stood at the bow and stern where the curve of the hull brought the sides well above the deck. The one at the stern was large, clearly intended to act as cover for the crew, while the one at the bow was little more than a small viewing platform. And, at the center of the ship, a closed hatchway led down to the hold.

As Elijah and Ammon followed Az and Rhea onto the deck, the crew, already standing at a weary distance, began to back up even further. Only when Venali clambered awkwardly up after them, cursing and groaning loudly, did one of them step forward. Bald, with sunburn scars across his head and shoulders and wrinkled far beyond his years, the man had the look of a withered piece of fruit about him. Crossing the deck and approaching Venali, he gave an ironical salute, before immediately chastising him in a cracking raspy voice.

“All hail prince Venali, lord of the loaf. And here I thought we were all going to suffocate in the open air and be robbed of the chance to see your pretty face again.”

Venali grinned at the man, turning to address his companions. “Everyone, this is First Mate Briggs. When I told you that you’d be signing on to keep the crew in line, this is principally who I had in mind.”

“And a lotta luck they’d have,” said Briggs. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a softer looking bunch. All dough, no crust.” Spitting on the deck, he added. “I just hope they sail as well as they gawk. No puking on my ship, it smells sweet enough already.”

As the men spoke, Rhea’s eyes fixed on the trap door sitting not far from the ships main mast. It was closed tight, but more than that, it was sealed by a circle of melted wax into which a small and intricate stamp had been pressed.

“Well, that’s enough time spent on pleasantries,” said Venali, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of Islandnest. “Raise the sails and lift anchor. We’d best be out of Dagger Lake before daybreak. I’m almost certain they’ll send a ship lookin’ for us.”

“Well, if it isn’t the classic, hurry up and wait,” said Briggs. “A day and a half cooking in the sun, the boss arrives and its cut and run by moonlight.” Then, turning to the two other members of the crew, still cowering in the shadows. “You heard the captain, you luckless bastards, hoist the sails before he sicks one of these big fellas on you. Or, worse yet, the bald girl.”

Laughing at his own cleverness, Briggs walked to the stern of the ship. Hopping up onto the overhang, he took hold of the steering-oar mounted there. Meanwhile, the crew, with the look of weary and haggard men, began to pull on ropes and slowly lift the sails.

Az shouldered up to Rhea. She could feel the warmth of his forearm as he leaned in close to speak. “Stay close to me. It will be hard to get a good sense of our surroundings until we see it by daylight.”

“Az, a blind man could get a good sense of this ship a dozen meters off. It stinks.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but-”

“Don’t worry, I wont jump overboard or anything. It’s not a big ship, I won’t get lost.”

Az sighed. Slowly, with the gait of a man unaccustomed to being on the water, he walked over toward the overhang where Venali, Elijah and Ammon were settling in for the night. Left standing alone, and with no where else to go, Rhea followed. Throwing down her pack, she lay on the deck and studied the stars.

As the breeze got stronger and the ship picked up speed, moving south at a decent pace, some of the smell began to dissipate. Soon Venali came around, handing out hardtack, salt-fish and offering swigs of wine from a large waterskin. Accepting the food but refusing the wine, Rhea watched as Az and the others settled in for the night. Before long it was only herself, Venali, Briggs and the crew awake on the ship, Elijah and Ammon sleeping beneath the overhang and Az just outside it. Rhea lay still, a little-ways from Az, halfway between the overhang and the center mast. With nothing left to do, she wished for sleep, but it did not come.

When a half an hour had passed and it appeared that all were asleep, Venali grabbed one of the crewmen standing by the center mast and sent him up to relieve Briggs at the steering oar. With the other crewmen standing watch at the prow, Venali and Briggs approached the hatchway down to the hold and began speaking in whispers. Watching through shuttered lids, Rhea focused all her attention on them, and her keen young ears were just able to make out the words of the coarse old men.

“I was worried you’d been trapped on shore,” said Briggs. “A day and a half’s too long to keep the galley sealed. We might go down to find nothing but a bed of cooked worms.”

“Couldn’t be helped, my boy. I saw the way you looked at some of the… cargo. If I’d left the hold unsealed, I’d have come back to nothing but excuses and lies.” As he spoke, Venali bent down, breaking the wax seal and opening the hatch. Both men stepped back, shielding their faces as a torrent of bad air billowed out onto the deck. Taking out a handkerchief and tying it around his face, Venali disappeared down below, with Briggs looking down after him. A minute later he was back, coughing and spluttering.

“Water, get some water and bring it down. And some food. Quickly now. Looks like we made it… just barely.”

Briggs hurried to the overhang, passing by Rhea and stepping carefully over Ammon who was snoring in front of a half dozen casks and barrels. Carrying a cask of clean water and a packet of hard-tac, Briggs made his way to Venali, who stopped to take a swig of water, swishing it around in his mouth and spitting it on the deck. Then, plugging their noses and holding their breath, the two headed into the hold.

When they had gone, Rhea rolled over, feigning sleep while looking up towards the crewman on the overhang with the steering-oar. She could only make out his outline, but even so it was clear that his attention was fixed on the shoreline, swiveling his head constantly to be sure he did not miss some rock or outcropping that might threaten to sink the ship and all onboard.

Quietly, Rhea slipped off her shoes and out of her robe. Crouching in nothing but her spider silk loincloth and chest wrap, she undid the belt that held her knife to her chest and crept to the railing at the edge of the ship. With one more glance back at the oarsman, she looked over the edge. Down below she could see the dark water, like a sheet of rippling black glass, parting with passage of the ship. About a third of the way down were a set of portholes, each with the blade of an oar sticking out from within.

Rhea leaned farther over the railing, trying to get a look in through the nearest porthole. It was too far. Pulling herself back up and taking a deep breath, she slipped over the railing, hanging from it. With nimble agility, Rhea walked her hands down from the railing to the deck, dangling so that her feet were only a few inches from the surface of the water. Carefully, she shuffled over, finally bringing her self up next to the porthole and craning her neck to look inside.

At first, she could see nothing, her eyes having adjusted to the light of the moon, unable to penetrate the blackness within. Then – a shape moving in the dark, recoiling at the shadow cast across the porthole. And a sound. A tiny cry of surprise from a voice hoarse and parched beyond imagination. And the smell. The same as that which hung heavy around the ship, but concentrated, spewing out from its place of origin in the galley.

Rhea recoiled. Shuffling away, she prepared to lift herself back to the deck. Her hands, gripped as they were around the posts of the railing, were becoming tired and she dreaded the thought of losing her grip and disappearing down into the water and the night. Suddenly however, she became aware of the sound of curing and of heavy stumbling steps making their way from somewhere deep in the hold. Rhea froze, not wanting to make a sound and give away her position. Soon she could hear Briggs clearly, complaining in a choked voice as he staggered closer.

“Gods above, you filthy animal, how could you make such a smell.” Coming to the porthole, Briggs thrust his head through, closing his eyes and sipping the air through pursed lips. No more than a half-inch from where Rhea hung, he took several breaths, before turning back to face the inside.

In the distance, Venali spoke, his voice muffled by his handkerchief. “So, she’s alive back there? Quick, give her some water and let’s get out of here.”

There was the sound of water sloshing in the bucket and Briggs spoke again. “Easy, easy, you’ll be sick. The water’s only good for you if you can keep it down.”

Rhea’s fingers, wrists and arms began to scream with pain. She was not sure how much longer she could go on hanging there. Was it worth risking death to keep the men from knowing she had discovered their secret? But if she made a move, couldn’t Briggs simply reach out of the porthole and pull her down into the water? She held on, gripping with all her might, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Inside, Briggs’ voice had softened some. “Here’s some bread, too,” he said. “I’ll speak to the captain, perhaps when we’re farther into the wilds we’ll get you out of those chains and let you rinse off in the lake. No sense having a pretty thing like you die in a place like this, all for want of letting you get clean.”

Then came the sound of a woman’s voice, too quiet and hoarse for Rhea to hear.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” said Briggs. “We’re not all that bad, my dear. In our place, you’d do the same. Try and get some rest and I’ll talk to the cap-”

“What in the hell is taking so long,” said Venali, his voice thick with irritation. “I knew I couldn’t leave you alone with her for so much as a minute. Get the hell out of there and let’s get above deck. I’m suffocating down here.”

Rhea had waited as long as she could. She strained her arms, willing them to pull her up to the railing. For a moment, it seemed like it might be too late. That after so much time spent dangling, she feared she may no longer have the strength needed to climb. Gritting her teeth and fighting to keep from groaning, she pulled until her chest was level with the deck. Then, shooting out one exhausted arm, she caught hold of the top of the railing, and pulled herself overtop and onto the rough planks of the deck.

Collapsing there, she rolled back to her place and slipped hurriedly into her robes. Only then did she remember the crewman standing on top of the overhang with the steering oar. Darting a glance his way, Rhea’s heart sank. It was too dark to see him clearly, and yet it seemed certain that he was staring right at her. She swallowed hard, uncertain what to do.

Just then, Venali and Briggs came surging back onto the deck, gasping for air as quietly as they could. Still staring at the oarsman, Rhea watched as his head seemed to turn from her to them, and then to resumed its previous pose, scanning the shore. He said nothing, and the ship sailed on as before, while Briggs and Venali took turns gargling clean water and using it to wash their faces and flush out their noses. Half closing her eyes, Rhea stared back up at the sky, trying to control her racing heart and mind.

Time seemed to pass slowly now, every minute feeling like an eternity. Rhea wished for dawn, willing the night to go faster. She yearned for the moment when Az would awake. When she could tell him what she had seen. Laying there, beneath the stars, unable to sleep, her breast was filled with venom and rage. What would she do, she wondered, if he did not believe her? What would she do if he did not care? And, from the infinite void between those tiny pricks of light, the answer came calling back. Kill them. One or all, the crew must die. Only then would the spirits let her sleep. When Venali’s black heart beat its last. And his body was delivered to the deep.