The majority of the slaves were fairly local, and just wanted to go home - some of them bearing their dead with them. They weren't riders, so they didn't want horses - just food, water and a means to defend themselves. Jahistra divided up the supplies and weapons, McKenzie shared out the remainder of the Sefara's trading knives amongst them, ripped one of the slave wagons apart to make a batch of crowbars, and they disappeared off into the encroaching night in small, armed groups.

This left him with forty seven people of various genders and ethnicities who only had two things in common - they didn't know where they were and they couldn't understand anyone except McKenzie.

McKenzie spent a lot of time shouting and talking to people until he was hoarse, mostly on the subject of why they couldn't kill Khatafri in various cruel and unusual ways but also on where they were going now, was he in charge, and, from one particularly confused man, was he a god. Melindron, yes and 'get a fucking life of course not' were his replies.

"And what will we do in Melindron, exactly?" The captain of the Irago asked.

McKenzie didn't know: the curse had prompted his destination, and he had little choice. He wasn't about to let on, though. "In your case, probably carry on being an annoying twat: you seem to be able to do that anywhere," he said. "Does it look like I give a fuck? I'm going to the nearest civilised town first. I don't personally give much of a toss where anyone else goes, but if you want to be around me until we reach somewhere you can't be captured by guys with spears and chucked into a locked wagon full of shit again, then that's the way you'll go too."

This received universal approval as a sensible course of action.

"Good - one last thing, anyone kills the prisoner, they answer to me. We need him alive. Anyone got a problem with that? Thought not."

McKenzie detailed fifteen people as sentries, had all the horses attached to something immovable, and then went to talk with Khatafri who was now awake, but tied up inside his wagon.

McKenzie climbed inside it, and sat down on one of the wooden benches next to the sailors who were guarding him. Khatafri eyed him in near terror.

"Busy day," McKenzie remarked. "Tense. Gotta say I'm kinda glad I'm not you right now, man. Lotta people out there want you dead, well, I say dead, it's more that they want you to suffer excruciating pain, bleed lots, make you choke on your own private parts, etcetera etcetera. You know the sort of thing. The dead part is probably just a bonus. Now as much as I hate responsibility – I'm more of a live-in-the-moment type bloke – the only thing standing between you and aforementioned excruciating pain is yours truly. Do you therefore want to annoy me?"

Khatafri shook his head.

"Good. Now, I doubt any fucker else knows where we are. You do. Nearest town or city where we're unlikely to be bothered by the likes of you?"

"Margar, my lord. It is ten day's travel, my lord, eight with light wagons. I will not guide you false, my lord, I give you my word," Khatafri responded. "Please, I have wives, children-"

"Really not caring," McKenzie said, cutting him off. "We end up anywhere that isn't Margar, you die. We end up in Margar, you get a horse, some food, some water, and a ten minute head start before forty odd very angry ex-slaves decide they still want you dead and start after you. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord, I promise you I will-"

"Make sure someone's with him at all times," McKenzie told the sailors on guard duty, and then jumped down out of the wagon, ignoring his response.

Jahistra had taken charge of the stores wagon and appointed as her lieutenants the three very tall women - who all spoke a bit of a language that Jahistra could speak. This ensured very effectively that no-one helped themselves to more than their share of food or water.

"Jahistra," McKenzie nodded to her. She'd dressed herself in Sefaran robes and found a pair of boots. "According to a very frightened and co-operative man, some town called Margar is ten day's travel away. I want to make for that. I'll go onto Melindron from there. You don't have to come - you can go your own way then. You can go your own way now, but, well, you know what I mean."

Jahistra didn't reply for a while - she was looking intently to the southwest.

"That may not be an issue," Jahistra said quietly. "Unless I am deceived, an airship is on the horizon."

McKenzie peered at the horizon - he could just about make out a dot.

"Is this a busy route?" He asked.

Jahistra shook her head. "No - and in any case it is not customary to travel so low: this vessel is searching for something, or someone."

"Well, call me Mr. Assumey Assumption of Assumption Lane, Assumington, Assumptionshire, but that's probably either the Reaper or the Huntress lookin' for us.," McKenzie said.

Jahistra nodded. "I cannot tell from this distance. I think her course will take her away to our north east."

McKenzie sniffed. "Your call - if you'd rather stay on terra firma, that's cool, we won't draw attention to ourselves, take off on horseback if you want. If you want to light a fire, make some smoke, try and get her attention, that's cool too. If the tribesmen come we'll have a fight of it, mind."

"Will you keep her away from me?" Jahistra asked.

"I'll threaten to turn her into something squeaky and feed her to a snake if she lays a finger on you," McKenzie promised, and found he was looking forward to it.

Jahistra nodded. "Very well."

"Okay then," McKenzie said. "Let's roll the dice."

They didn't need all of the wagons to provide transport for everyone - McKenzie spent an entertaining few minutes going at five of them with a heavy iron bar, producing as an end result one big pile of bent and broken cage bars and one big pile of wood. Jahistra produced some lamp oil from the stores wagon and poured it over some of the smaller pieces, then brought out flint and tinder.

"Nah," McKenzie said. "Stand back."

He might not be able to really cut loose with the quintessence, but he didn't reckon a few sparks were going to make any odds or open any rifts in the local space-time continuum. He pointed, grinned, and shot a sliver of fire into the oil-soaked wood - it caught with a satisfying whoomph.

"Okay - pile it up!" He said, and the freed slaves set about heaving wood onto the fire. Within a few minutes there was a massive blaze and a huge column of smoke. Everyone started peering at the horizon to see if the airship would notice.

After a few agonizing minutes, it did, although it was not immediately obvious. Eventually, though, it became clear that the dot on the horizon was growing slowly bigger.

"There we go then," McKenzie said.

Jahistra said nothing in reply - her eyes were trained on the slowly approaching dot. Everyone waited to find out if the approaching craft meant good news or bad.

"It is the Huntress," she said, after maybe another ten minutes.

"You sure?" McKenzie asked.

"I would know my ship anywhere - and I can tell you more than that," her face darkened. "She is being handled by someone who does not know her ways - she tends to list a degree or two to port unless her cargo is properly distributed," she sighed.

"Maybe they just haven't got around to it yet?" McKenzie suggested.

Jahistra shook her head. "Barden has taken her a prize."

"Well, if he has, part of the condition of obtaining your information is going to be her surrender back to your command," McKenzie said.

"Barden does not negotiate," Jahistra said.

"I can be very persuasive," McKenzie said.

"Possession, McKenzie, is nine-tenths of the law," Jahistra said.

"I've heard that one before. Never really paid much attention to it. Short of hurting people I'm not allowed to hurt, I'll do what I can to get your ship back, Captain Jahistra," McKenzie said.

Jahistra turned to look at him. "My friends call me Jaha," she said, with a tired, worried but genuine smile.

McKenzie smiled back. "My friends call me all sorts of names, but mostly it's still just McKenzie."

- o O o -

When the Huntress drew near, it was clear that whoever had command of her wasn't in the mood to take chances. McKenzie could see bowmen at some of her hatches, and the ballista was deployed out of her main loading hatch, trained on the party of freed slaves.

"Best put your weapons down guys," McKenzie advised. "Let's not have a stupid fucking incident after everything we've just been through. Whether this is my lot or Jahistra's lot, you'll be fine, I promise."

Everyone complied. The Huntress came to a full stop overhead.

Jahistra squared her shoulders and drew in a breath. "Hello the Huntress!" She called. "Who has command of the vessel?"

There was no reply at first. Jahistra looked expectantly at her vessel. Some orders were shouted, and then the archers at the ports relaxed their bows and the ballista was swung away from them.

The Huntress lowered a loading platform, it's only passenger being a short, swarthy sailor who was grinning from ear to ear.

"You do, Captain Jahistra!" He shouted, and there were cheers from the vessel. Jahistra smiled broadly in response.

"Guess someone's gonna catch hell for that improperly distributed cargo then, yeah?" McKenzie commented.

Jahistra smiled. "I shall be having words, yes."

- o O o -

There was, of course, a certain amount of trepidation when Jahistra's crew realised who it was standing next to her.

"Mr. McKenzie is my guest," she said. "He is to be treated with the utmost courtesy. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," was the response, and the word went round. There were no arguments or objections - Jahistra ran a tight ship, it seemed.

It probably helped that the crew of the Huntress had come through without any deaths, although there were three men in the makeshift sickbay with broken bones. The mercenaries had fared less well - Sharinta had turned them against the crew, somehow, but since by that time they were mostly aboard the Sky Reaper or dead, this had actually had little positive effect: especially since Jahistra had never trusted the hired warriors, and had been careful to ensure they were corraled in the hold. Leni had managed to get aboard in the resulting confusion, though, and forced Jahistra to make a hasty exit from her bridge. Leni and the remaining mercs had been driven onto the Sky Reaper: the first mate had disengaged and taken the Huntress away on a diverging course, then returned to scour the plains for their missing captain. McKenzie couldn't help but reflect on the fact that the Sky Reaper didn't appear to have bothered to look for him.

Jahistra gave a few orders, and her crew set about stripping the wagons of anything of any use or value and loading it into the hold. Lookouts were posted against the possibility of any tribesmen noticing the smoke and coming to investigate, and the ballista was kept manned and loaded.

"What do you want to do with him?" McKenzie asked Jahistra, indicating Khatafri.

"Climbing to cruising height and then shoving him out of the midships hatch appeals greatly to my sense of justice," Captain Jahistra replied, "but I think we'll probably confine him to the brig until we get to Melindron and hand him over to the Archmage's Watch - the added bonus of which is Her Wisdom pays a nice bounty for captured slavers and head money for freed slaves. Your conscience can rest easy - she has strong feelings on the subject of slavery: your charges will get help there. Fifty-fifty split?"

"You can keep it," McKenzie shrugged. "This archmage, she wouldn't go by the name of Zick Zarser would she?"

"She is the Archmage Xixaxa, yes," Jahistra told him, with far better pronunciation.

"Thought she might be," McKenzie replied. "You need these other wagons broke up?" He asked, seeing that Jahistra's men were loading the pile of bent and torn iron bars into the hold.

"It has scrap value, yes. If you wouldn't mind...?"

"Not a problem," McKenzie smiled.

"About your enemy," Jahistra said, as McKenzie turned to start work. "Dine with me in my cabin tonight and I will tell you everything I know."

McKenzie nodded. "Seriously, I really honestly don't care."

"Your companions will."

"Probably. They can ask you then. Not that I'm turning down dinner, by the way. That'd be lovely."

"I am glad," Jahistra said, and then McKenzie set about reducing the slave wagons to something useful: scrap iron.