She wagged a clawed finger.“Now, now, young sir, that wasnot very lordly of you.Mind your manners.”
“What?”Isaac thrashed in his restraints.“What is yourgame, beastwoman?Let me go!”
“You get that line from a book, Isaac?Read it in one ofyour adventure tales?”She regarded him with amusement.“Magic-wielder likeyourself must come from the nobility.Educated in proper etiquette and such.Sowhy don’t you say please?”
Isaac stared back at her.
“Come now,” she said.“Simple word, isn’t it?”
His throat was raw.His muscles were pained.His mind wasgrowing dizzier by the second.When his last waterskin had emptied, and hisurine had been darker than sandstone, Isaac had decided to brave the dunes withthe sole intention of quenching his thirst.Now, it seemed his only option tosave himself from dehydration was the hyena in front of him.
Even still, he was well aware that she was toying with him,leveraging the complete control she had over his life.Isaac had not become ajourneyman in magical transmutation just to be bested and mocked by some commonpirate.
But, at the moment, there really was nothing for it.Hewould have to swallow his pride before the water.
“Please,” he said, gazing up at her.
A grin emerged along her snout.“Knew you had it in you.”
She turned and sauntered over to the two packs she hadtossed from the deck.In her temporary absence, Isaac ran his rope bindings alongthe edge of the cannon hole, hoping to find a sharp edge to cut them on.Hefound nothing but smooth brass, which made him quietly snarl.Isaac knew overtwo dozen spells, most of which could easily reduce the hyena to cinders,chunks, ribbons, and droplets—of course, with his wrists bound in place,casting a single one would be impossible.The mnemonic incantations requiredthe full use of his arms.Without it, he was helpless.
As Isaac pulled on his restraints again, he noticed the bodyof a pirate, lying a modest distance away.It was the lioness he had killedwith bolts of frost, who had died with a look of shock and agony on her face.Her glassy feline eyes seemed to reflect his stare.
Isaac felt a twist in his gut, turning his head away.
By now, Zaria was standing over him again, her tall figureblocking away the sun.She held a waterskin in her hand.“Open wide.”
Isaac opened his mouth.
She squatted down and began to pour.At first, Isaac drankgreedily, the sensation of cool water on his tongue almost indescribable in itspleasure, but Zaria never slowed her pouring, and he couldn’t swallow fastenough.Soon, he was nearly choking on the water, some of it spilling on hisface and chest.She continued to pour even when he bent over to cough and gasp.By the time the skin was empty, more of it had landed on his robes than hismouth, and the amount he had swallowed only managed to blunt his thirst.
Zaria tossed the empty skin over her shoulder.“Well, now.Ihope we’re bathed and happy.If that’s all, let’s return to business.”
Isaac coughed, trying to lick more droplets from hisscraggly beard.
Zaria held out a piece of paper.“What does this say?”
It was the letter his uncle had written him just before thestart of his journey.He had not been able to send Isaac off personally, havingto attend to urgent business elsewhere, but the letter was there to wish himwell and grant him safe passage with the special design of its wax seal.Itcontained references to his mission, where he came from, and the places he wasto go.Over the days of travel, Isaac had read it many times.
He kept his expression calm.“It’s written in the commonlanguage.”
The hyena moved the paper closer to his face.“I understandthat, love.What does it say?”
He stared back at her for a moment, trying to understand theproblem, before it suddenly dawned on him.“Oh.You’re illiterate.”He couldn’thelp but chuckle to himself.“Of course you are.I don’t know why I expected—”
Her jaw flashed toward his throat.Isaac squirmed againstthe cannon hole, feeling an entire maw’s worth of teeth wrapping around hisneck, like scissors to paper.His heart pounded against her canines andincisors.For a moment, her jaw seemed to tense, holding a fearsome pressure onhis skin, only for the rest of her head to pull slightly away, leaving her nosebelow his chin and her breath caressing the front of his jugular, like a gentlepromise.
This close to him, he could smell a distinctive musk, onethat suggested she had not bathed for several days.It worsened the dizzinessin his head.
“Don’t make this hard,” she said.“I’d hate to leave you forthe birds.”
Above the furry ears tickling at his nose, Isaac could seebuzzards already circling the air, high above the wreckage.He knew, from hisreading, that vultures tended to eat the eyes of the dead first, or otherwisetear their way through the soft lining of the anus.He had studied enoughdiagrams to know their beaks were very sharp.
Sometimes, the birds did not bother to wait until their mealwas dead.
“I’ll spin you a yarn,” Zaria said, her hot breath on hisskin, “and tell me if I’m wrong.”She cleared her throat.“That gaudy littleseal comes from the desk of some equally gaudy mage, probably robed and such,granting the bearer diplomatic passage.The curly-cues and fancy letterin’ tell me that this mage is probably so wizenedthat he jerks himself to sigils in his spare time.Most of all, the sweatyfingerprints on the margin suggest you’ve pawed over this parchment like aspecial letter from your missus.”
Isaac watched the buzzards circle overhead, trying not tobreathe.
