They came in the darkness. Liao heard the clang of clashing steel, shouts of the fighting and screams of the dying above deck. It was loud; piercing through the painful ringing in Liao’s ears. Renshu still sat beside him, motionless.

The sounds stopped. Only the creaking of the ringed lanterns continued. Shadows fell down the steps. A Qeitan woman padded towards them, flanked by two men. She wore sailor’s clothes, a short sleeved tan leather jacket and pants. Her long black hair was matted with sweat, her tanned face splattered with blood. Turquoise lined tattoos traced from her chin to lower lip. The woman’s hands rested on two curved swords scabbarded at her hips, and she wore the same wide brimmed hat as the captain.

She padded to their cell, pausing before the metal bars between them.

Squinting at Renshu, who didn’t even open his eyes, her stare drifted to Liao.

She murmured, her tone curt, “Why would a Cadric ship hold you prisoner?”

Liao looked at her and said nothing.

“Let’s leave them, Ji-La.” One of the men turned away. “They stink of death.”

“Yet they’re still alive,” Ji-La said, kneeling closer to Liao slumped against the cell. “He has blackfever.”

“Bring… doctor,” Liao wheezed. “Glasses.”

Ji-La guffawed. “That sniveling worm?” She waved to the men behind her. “Fetch him.”

They left, heading back to the deck.

The woman continued studying Liao. “You’re a lucky man. Or unlucky one, depending how you see it. Still, you might yet live through this, lucky man.”

The men returned, holding the doctor. He was shoved to his knees, and the woman dismissed her followers with the flick of her hand.

She took out a ring of keys, tossing them to the doctor. “Open the cell.”

Pushing up his scratched spectacles, the man stood and bowed before the cell door, fiddling with each key into the lockhole. The metal door squeaked open.

“Inside,” Ji-La ordered, kicking the doctor forward with her boot. She closed the cell, pulling the assortment of keys back within her leather jacket. “Tell me why your captain took them prisoner.”

“I don’t know,” the doctor said. “They were meant to be brought to King Hroth. One wouldn't have survived the journey, not without paleroot.”

“The King of Cadria, wanting to meet a dying man and a Shadai monk?” Ji-La mused. “Lucky men indeed. What of you, Shadai? Will you talk?”

Renshu was silent.

The woman sighed. “You monks are all the same. Not like the sisterhood.”

Renshu opened his eyes. “You were an oracle. Now, lower than a jinn. Pirate scum.”

Ji-La smirked, her crimson eyes flickering orange in the lanterns’ light. “Tell me what your mission was, monk.”

Liao pleaded to Renshu with his stare, no strength left to speak.

“This man is an Imperial diplomat, sent to treaty with Cadria,” Renshu said. “We were instead imprisoned.”

The woman’s smirk opened into a toothy grin. “I don’t believe you. What I do know,” Ji-La pointed to Liao, “is that the Taorin have a bounty for a man with his features. Enough gold to take the attention of Kings. The interesting part is they want him alive. It’s enough gold only the Dynasty could have. And Cadria wishes to meet you, lucky man. You know what I think?”

She drummed her fingers on the metal bars of their cell. “I think you’re the recently escaped prince. And your fortune has brought you to me.”

Liao grimaced. “They’ll never pay you.”

Ji-La leaned forward, a nearby lantern’s glow revealing the blood dried on her face, smeared ruddy brown. Despite the gore on her sun scorched skin, she was beautiful in a full boned, ample way. Her hardened eyes told her story, however. She needed to become who she was now, a killer, a beast to survive. Her grin betrayed her relish of the power she now wielded.

“I don’t plan to deal with the Taorin, prince. I wish to know your story.” She snapped her fingers. “Doctor. You will have the paleroot, and the instruments needed to cure him. You’ll work under my watch.” Ji-La bent down closer, smiling at Liao. “Rejoice, lucky prince. Your life rests with the Scarlet Queen.”