"I find it curious that you have allowed yourself to be captured," Jahistra commented, nothing in her tone belying any fear, anger, resentment or indeed any other emotion.

"I find it equally curious that you have," McKenzie replied, trying to imitate her emotionless delivery.

"I lack the capacity to rip the tails from airships or shrug off arrows," Jahistra told him.

"Yes, but once I was out of the equation you guys still had an advantage in numbers and presumably the capability to break off the engagement at will. Why are you here, Jahistra?" McKenzie asked.

Jahistra didn't look to be in very good shape. She'd been stripped of her armour and was barefoot, bruised, and the few scraps of silk she still had to cover herself with were bloodstained in places. McKenzie, by contrast, still had everything down to the phone in his pocket and was as physically unharmed as he always was.

Jahistra sighed and for a moment showed a flash of anger, and then fear.

"Your cleric is a she-devil incarnate: she turned the mercenaries against my crew by what means I know not. The mages we employed were no match for the elf, and I was chased off my bridge by a hungry troll. A hundred ships would not suffice to bring those three to justice," Jahistra said, shooting him a slightly baleful glance.

"Justice?" McKenzie said, surprised. "I thought we were supposed to be the good guys."

"The bad guys often do," Jahistra commented.

"Whatever. I'm more in my comfort zone with 'bad guy' anyway. How come you're in the bad-ass wagon with the extra thick bars?"

"I killed four tribesmen when they tried to put their mark on me," Jahistra answered. "The Sefara seem to want me unmarked, as they haven't tried to repeat the experiment."

"Four! Fucking hell!" McKenzie commented, impressed.

"You did not kill any of your captors?"

"Well, yeah, obviously," McKenzie replied. "Only the one, um, one group of them, though."

Jahistra looked at him. "Do you intend to escape?" She asked.

"'Course," McKenzie said. "Soon as we get away from the camp a bit and there aren't all these women and kids knockin' about the place, I'm gone."

"Take me with you," Jahistra said, "and - on one other condition - not only will I tell you the name of the one who hired me to attack the Sky Reaper and kidnap your friends, but I will lead you to this person."

"What's the other condition?" McKenzie asked.

Jahistra shuddered. "If your friends rescue us, do not let the she-troll have me."

McKenzie shrugged, and went to peer out of the bars. "I don't plan to let Leni eat anyone while I'm around. I don't actually give a toss, personally, who hired you, but chill, you can come anyway."

"Whether you profess to care or not, I am a woman of my word. Break me free from this intolerable slavery, and I will give you the name of your enemy," Jahistra said.

"One of 'em's comin'," McKenzie said.

One of the Sefara slavers approached the bars. "Water," he said, in a guttural accent. "Any games and you won't get any more." A cup was proffered - a slimline one, McKenzie noticed, thin enough to fit between the bars.

"Ladies first." McKenzie said. Jahistra got to her feet, took the cup, and drank. The slaver refilled it from a barrel, and McKenzie repeated the process.

"Outlanders," they were then addressed - it was Khatafri. Maybe he was in charge. "You are dangerous, but we are wise. This," he held up a glass jar containing a green liquid, "-is strong poison. Every cart driver has a jar like this. It is death to get even the slightest amount on your skin. If you offer any of us any violence, the driver will throw his jar into the cart, and you will die. It is not a good death. Do you understand?"

I'm gonna make you eat that fucking jar, McKenzie thought.

"We understand," Jahistra said.

Khatafri grunted and ambled off. A few moments later, their cart, along with everyone else's, started moving. It wasn't a comfortable ride.

"Do you fear the poison?" Jahistra asked.

McKenzie shrugged. "People've tried to poison me before. Well, probably. I never noticed."

"The Sefara have a well-deserved reputation for ruthlessness," Jahistra said.

"I hear you," McKenzie said.

McKenzie had planned - if plan was the word - to kick the door open, jump out, then start beating people up and freeing slaves. If chemical weapons were involved, then something a bit subtler was called for. There was a problem with that, though: he didn't do subtle.

"What's with the tattoos?" McKenzie asked Jahistra, who seemed to be far chattier as a slave in need of liberation than she had as a pirate captain. Funny that.

"That," she said, "is none of your business."

Not that chatty, then.

"Fine, suit yourself-" McKenzie was interrupted by his phone. "Excuse me. I'd probably better answer this."

With a ripping noise, he pulled his hands free of the ropes, took his phone out, and held it to his ear. "Hello, Spartacus extras casting department. Nameless slave number 29 speaking. Hey Christine, how's you? Good. Me? Oh, I went on a ship made of wood that flies through the air, long story short, attacked by pirates, big midair ding-dong, shot with a plus-size siege crossbow, fell to the ground, captured by tribesmen while weak, enslaved, held prisoner in slave wagon with a beautiful pirate queen." McKenzie bowed ironically to Jahistra as he spoke. "Yeah, same set of pirates, yeah. No, I'm not taking the piss. I'll put her on, here you go."

Jahistra eyed the phone with suspicion. "What is this?"

"Communication device. Say hi to Christine," McKenzie said, proffering the phone.

"Hello Christine," Jahistra said. She held the phone to her ear for a few moments, then gave up and thrust it back at McKenzie. "I do not understand the language used by your magic box, but it seems very excited ands talks very quickly."

"I know, right?" McKenzie said, and took the phone back. "I'm back, what's up? No, you called me, so: what's up?"

"Oh, we're tracing this call," Christine said.

""We? Who the fuck is we? Who've you told about this?"

"Fader and The Slipstress," Christine answered.

"You mean Jimmy and Susie, I take it?"

"Yes, if you insist, Jimmy and Susie. You know how he is with computers and, y'know, they're a couple, if you tell one it's kinda douchey to expect them to keep secrets from their SO and-"

"Fine, whatever, just for fuck's sake don't tell you-know-who," McKenzie interrupted.

"That's it." Christine said. "That. Is. It."

"What is what?"

"Why we broke up. You were constantly - constantly, like all the time - interrupting me."

"I did not!" McKenzie said.

"You totally did!"

"No, I didn't. Well, no more than anyone else would. Does the phrase 'word in edgeways' mean anything to you?" McKenzie asked rhetorically.

"Un-believable!" Christine shrilled into the phone. "We are literally trying to save your life, and you are being insensitive and critical. Again."

"Okay, sorry - but you sent us off on this tangent, for the record," McKenzie said.

"Apology accepted," Christine replied, immediately becoming un-annoyed: she was like that, basically a very sweet-natured girl: just one who could throw trucks arounds by thinking about it.

"Is Susie there?" McKenzie asked.

"Yep."

"Could you put her on?"

"OK. Good luck with the escape and be nice to the pirate queen. Bye!" Christine said.

There was a momentary crackling, and then Susie's voice. "McKenzie. It's been a long time," Susie, like McKenzie, was British, but unlike him came from a background that had included large country houses and ponies, and spoke as such.

"Susie. Keeping well, I hope?"

"Passably. What kind of a mess have you managed to land yourself in this time?" Susie asked.

"No idea - I was hoping you'd be able to help me with that. You're still a genius, right?"

Susie exhaled irritably. "Yes, I suppose."

McKenzie glanced at Jahistra: then hunched into a corner of the wagon and spoke quietly.

"OK, it's like this. I seem to be, I dunno, absorbing powers or somethin'. I can chuck freaky magic lightning with my hands now, I'm currently holding a cross-galactic phone conversation because I spent some time in front of a magic mirror - no, really - of similar characteristics, and after having a few conversations with a linguistic genius I'm able to understand pretty much anyone and they can understand me."

"And this is a problem because...?"

"'Cos I think it's fucking me up somehow. I got hit from behind with a really big crossbow, massive thing, size of a car, bolt like a fucking railway sleeper. It knocked me on my arse for a good couple of hours, and I'm still not feeling quite right: I could only just now break out of these ropes," McKenzie admitted.

"Since most people would be extremely dead following that experience, I'm somewhat at a loss as to why you're not considering yourself very fortunate indeed," Susie replied.

"It normally takes a lot more than that to put me out of action," McKenzie said. "You're the closest thing in two worlds to a, I dunno, super-powers theorist. Think about it, willya? Let us know."

"Very well. Until then, be careful."

"I'm always careful," McKenzie said. "You be careful too – the pale-suit wearing asshole will not be a happy camper if he finds out about this. Say hi to Jimmy for me."

"I shall."

"No chance he can zap me out of here, is there?" McKenzie asked hopefully.

"That is something we are trying to determine. Ah. Apparently your signal is originating from London."

"I coulda told you that, or at least the nearest italian restaurant, anyway. Wherever that signal comes from, you'll probably find a well, seems a bit mad to say it, like I say, but a magic mirror basically - and your boss, too," McKenzie said.

"Very well. This requires further thought. We will be in contact with you again soon," Susie said.

"No rush, in your own time," McKenzie said.

Susie may have laughed - she was quite a serious person, though. "Christine wants to speak with you again."

Christine came back on. "You hang in there, McKenzie. We're coming for you."

"Thanks, Christine," McKenzie said.

"Send me a photo of the pirate lady?"

"Will do," McKenzie said. "Well, time for me to fall off the wagon. Wouldn't be the first time. Laters."

"Stay strong," Christine said, and the line went dead.

"Will your friend aid in our escape?" Jahistra asked.

"Do you want the truth or a comforting lie?" McKenzie asked.

"The truth, please," Jahistra answered immediately.

"No. They're too far away and they don't know how to get here. Smile," McKenzie pointed the phone at her. Jahistra did not smile. He took a photo anyway - the flash went off, and she blinked.

McKenzie showed her on the screen, but true to form her only comment was a slight shrug and 'it's a very good likeness'. He texted Christine the photo (Here's the pirate lady, she's not all beat up because of me, we've been taken captive remember. McK) and then pocketed the phone.

"Do you have a plan, then?" Jahistra asked.

"Kinda," McKenzie said. "It depends on being a bit further away from the camp-village-whatever. I don't wanna have to kill fuck knows how many tribesmen as well as these bastards."

"I had thought that you were a vengeful person."

"I'm not really. Nine times outta ten revenge just causes more shit further down the line, but these blokes strike me more as what you might call vermin rather than people, so in the upcoming kerfuffle I shall be operating at the economical end of the mercy spectrum," McKenzie said.

"Meaning?" Jahistra prompted.

"I won't be showing much," McKenzie said.

- o O o -

McKenzie spent quite a long time pondering how to get Jahistra out of the wagon before the driver could turn in his seat and throw his poison jar. He didn't really come up with anything. There seemed to be no shortage of Sefara who might notice any shenanigans and throw their poison jars - as well as the drivers of the ten slave wagons, they had a whole wagon to themselves, driven by Khatafri, with about a half dozen of them riding in it, one guy on the stores wagon, plus about ten guys on horseback whose job seemed to be to ride ahead every now and again then drop back to eye up the slaves and intimidate them.

In the event it ended up like all of his other plans: he thought ah, fuck it and just decided to get on with it.

It was early evening when he ran out of patience. The wagons had just stopped, the drivers seemed distracted, the horseback guys had ridden off to do a perimeter check, and one of the Sefara was approaching the door of his wagon - there wasn't going to be a better time.

"Jahistra," McKenzie said.

Jahistra nodded.

Here goes nothing, McKenzie thought, and kicked the wagon door really hard.

Well, he was definitely back to abnormal. Not only did the lock give way but the hinges did too: with a terrific clang that rattled the entire wagon, the door went flying out of it's frame and took the approaching man's head clean off.

"ESCAPE!" Their driver started shouting, and although he didn't even try to reach for any jars he did start fumbling for his bow.

McKenzie jumped down and cracked his knuckles. "Lovely evening, shall we go for a stroll?"

Jahistra wasn't playing, though. With admirable speed, she shot out of the wagon and divested the headless corpse of it's bow, nocked an arrow, whirled, drew and loosed, all within about a half of a second, it seemed. The driver of their wagon fell backwards with a shaft through his throat, his own bow still unfired.

"That," McKenzie said, "was awesome."

"Thank you. Sword?" She proffered the man's scimitar.

"Nah." McKenzie leaned over and ripped a six-foot iron rod from the door. "I'm good."

The slaves and Sefara were all in an uproar - the horsemen were coming back and even the cook was arming himself. This task was made infinitely harder for him when Jahistra loosed another arrow and shot him through the chest.

"Right then," McKenzie said, and ran for the nearest wagon - a large one, filled with a selection of men and women ethnically similar to the Bazuli. Jahistra followed him, bow drawn and ready, sword at her waist.

"Brother! Free us! Let us fight!" One of them cried.

"No! The poison!" Another said.

Jahistra shot the driver, who, like the other one, had been levelling his bow at them. None of the bad guys seemed to be remotely interested in using their wonder-weapon, which led McKenzie to the conclusion that what they were actually armed with were jars of green dye mixed with pure bullshit.

"There is no fucking poison, dumbass! Get back!" McKenzie shouted. The slaves obliged. McKenzie jabbed his - well, it was basically a crowbar - into the padlock with surgical precision and shattered it. The slaves did the rest - the door was open in a couple of seconds and they came pouring out. Some immediately ran - others, men and women alike, sent up a tremendous, blood-curdling yell and started looking for weapons.

"Behind you!" Jahistra shouted - she had taken up a position of cover behind the wagon, as the horsemen were fast approaching and unslinging shortbows with enviable ease.

"Bastard!" A Sefara voice shouted simultaneously, and McKenzie felt the sudden pressure of a stab in his back.

"Ouch," he said flatly, and whacked his assailant with the crowbar, quarterstaff-style. The Sefara crumpled to the ground, and the freed slaves swarmed over him for his weapons.

"McKenzie!" Jahistra shouted. The horsemen were firing.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!" McKenzie roared.

Despite the warning, two of the slaves went down with arrows in their backs as a volley of ten shafts were released. Jahistra returned fire and one man fell from his horse - one of the slaves fired, but missed badly.

"Give it to someone who can use it, fool!" Jahistra hissed.

"What?" The man asked.

"She said stop fucking about with it. Who can use a bow? You? Take it and-" McKenzie paused to duck as the horsemen fired again - Jahistra released another shaft and a horse tumbled over, "-fucking shoot someone with the fucking thing."

The horsemen's last volley was far more accurate than their first two - they had closed the range. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for the escapees, though, six of them had decided to aim for McKenzie. Five of these found their target, who cursed and looked extremely pissed off. Of the remainder, one missed, but the other two found their targets and two more escapees, a man and a woman, were struck.

"Behind us!" One of the slaves shouted. McKenzie glanced round - five Sefara from the wagon were running over, with two more wagon drivers running to converge with them. They knelt, and drew arrows.

"Fuck that noise," McKenzie said. Between the horsemen and the reinforcements, the unarmed and unarmoured slaves were about to be cut to pieces. He ripped the wagon door off it's hinges, set his feet, and swung it two handed like a giant frisbee toward the kneeling archers.

His boots gouged furrows in the earth, and he fell over as he threw, but his aim was true. The heavy metal door spun across the intervening fifty or sixty yards and ploughed into the Sefara. McKenzie couldn't see how many he'd killed, but they were all on the floor, and the two who'd been running towards them had a sudden change of heart.

The slaves cheered and ran for the newest supply of weapons. McKenzie got to his feet, picked up his crowbar, and turned. The horsemen were about two seconds away, swords drawn. Two more had fallen to the arrows from Jahistra and their other archer, but six riders were still moments away from a devastating charge.

"Under! Get under!" Jahistra shouted, and rolled underneath the wagon.

McKenzie tensed, narrowed his eyes, and then jumped, swinging the crowbar two handed. He swept two of the Sefara from their saddles, and the other four pulled their horses away with protesting whinnying. None managed to use their scimitars.

Slaves immediately seized upon the two fallen men, and the others rode off in disarray in varying directions. Quick as a flash, Jahistra rolled back out, drew, aimed, fired and killed one of them.

"We could use more help," she said pointedly. "There are still many of them."

"More help. On it," McKenzie said. He headed flat out for the nearest wagon and shattered the lock, ignoring the arrow from its driver, then repeated the process for the next nearest. This one contained the three mercs, who, if they recognised McKenzie, clearly weren't holding any grudges just then - it was all wide smiles and cheers as the lock went.

McKenzie looked up at the sound of a rattling wagon and hooves - the stores wagon was rumbling away, driven by Khatafri. It was followed by the passenger wagon and five of the slave wagons. The horsemen fell in around them - they were leaving.

"Not on my watch," McKenzie muttered, and off he went.

He caught up with the trailing slave wagon straight away - it had barely got moving. He reached up and pulled off the padlock with one hand without really thinking about it, then pulled himself up on top of the cage, took three quick strides forward, and swept the driver out of his seat and onto the ground with a sweep of the crowbar.

The next slave wagon was only fifty or so yards in front - McKenzie bent his legs, had a guess, and jumped.

He'd judged it right - he landed on top of the cage with a clang, stumbled, got up and then repeated the same move with the crowbar, sending that driver out of his seat and into the grass. McKenzie jumped down onto the seats, pulled the horses to a stop, got down, yanked the padlock off quickly, and then ran for the next wagon.

There were three left, plus the stores wagon and the Sefara's own wagon. McKenzie's assault on the two stragglers had not gone unnoticed - Khatafri had got his whip out in order to speed the horses of the passenger wagon along, as had the driver of the stores wagon. Only Khatafri was making any real headway, though - his wagon was empty.

McKenzie glanced up as hooves thundered past him - Jahistra was on horseback, and she was as good with a bow from the back of a horse as she was on foot. She came alongside the first slave wagon, drew and loosed. The driver slumped over with an arrow through his neck.

McKenzie switched his attention to Khatafri's wagon. Five quick bounds brought him up alongside it, another jump and, with a tearing of canvas, he was through and into the back.

Khatafri let go of the reins, drew his scimitar, and snapped it into McKenzie's neck with pinpoint accuracy and a lot of force. McKenzie winced.

"Ow," he said.

Khatafri was stubborn, you had to give him that. He hit McKenzie twice more before he gave up and fell to his knees.

"I beg you, lord - have mercy," Khatafri put his hands together and asked. "I did not know you were a, a...what are you?"

McKenzie weighed the crowbar in his hands. The curse made no effort to stay his hand.

"I'm fucking pissed off is what I am," McKenzie answered him.

"Have mercy!" Khatafri repeated.

McKenzie drew in a breath, then threw a calculated punch into Khatafri's jaw. The man slumped unconscious to the wooden floor of the wagon.

"I'm shit out of mercy," McKenzie said. "You'll have to make do with justice."

- o O o -

McKenzie had to stop the stores wagon, and then one more slave wagon, which he did by the simple expedient of standing in front of it and waiting for the terrified driver to bring it to a halt.

"Leave your weapons and the keys, and fuck off," he told the driver plainly. The man complied with frantic haste and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, but some of the slaves from the other wagons were faster. Three very tall black women ran him down about two hundred yards away - McKenzie didn't really want to know what the one with the knife was doing to him, but by his screams it was certainly not very pleasant.

McKenzie picked up the keys and threw them into the wagon - the man who caught them was the captain of the Irago. By way of thanks, he glowered at McKenzie, but the chorus of gratitude from the other slaves drowned out his sullen response.

The three horsemen were, by now, three dots in the distance. Another Sefara was running, but he had several of the nordic-looking tribespeople in pursuit of him, armed with clubs. McKenzie sniffed.

"Sir, what shall we do?" It was the young sailor.

"Normally I'd say 'secure the prisoners', but something tells me that's just not going to be an issue," McKenzie answered, while, in the distance, another scream attested to the truth of his words. "There's one, anyway, out cold in that wagon. Take this fucker's sword and bow, and a couple of your lads, and don't let anyone kill 'im. We might need him."

"Aye sir," the youth said, and two of his mates nodded and hastened to do his bidding.

Jahistra came to a halt behind him with a thumping of hooves.

"Captain Jahistra!" The captain of the Irago exclaimed. "He destroyed your ship too, then."

Jahistra ignored him. "You have won," she told McKenzie. "We are free. I will adhere to the terms of our bargain. Do you wish to leave now?"

McKenzie shook his head. "Wish I could. If I do, though, and those tribesmen turn up in force again, well, these poor bastards are back to square one."

"I thought - and am glad - you might take that position," Jahistra said. "The stores wagon will need a guard posted. Armed and hungry slaves are not likely to ration out the food and water. I will see to it."

"Thanks," McKenzie said, and away she rode.

"What bargain?" The captain of the Irago demanded.

"You," McKenzie said to the remaining sailor. "Assist Captain Jahistra."

"Aye sir," the sailor said, and hesitated. "Sir, I have no weapon."

McKenzie looked at the crowbar in his hands. It was a bit long to be convenient. He put it on the floor, braced it with his foot, and a few seconds later tossed half of the crowbar to the open-mouthed sailor.

"Now you do," McKenzie said.