The Price of Wine
by Dana DeVries
   Peering through the dregs at the bottom of his glass, Captain Al Kassir's
cabin was bathed in a bloody glow. With a sigh, the captain swallowed the last
drops of wine, stood and swept the empty wine bottles and his glass into a
sack. He glanced around the cabin, looking for something. The room only held
his bunk,
spartan desk and two chairs. With a sudden snap of his fingers, he opened one
of the lower desk drawers and pulled out the holy writings of the Second Prophet.
He dumped that into the sack and quickly knotted it. Striding out of his cabin,
he paused only long enough to pitch the sack overboard where the heavy book
dragged it into the depths.
   Everything on deck looked ready. The pounding beat of the drums came from below along with the normal smells and sounds of the filthy slaves rowing. Another slave was being whipped at the post, but he would be returned to his oar shortly while a select few others tended the cannons under the watchful eye of his gunners. A crewman dropped from the rigging above him and bowed. At his impatient wave, the crewman reported. "Sighted
them ahead, sir. We're going to be close to the last, if I judge their numbers
correctly. The Strange Skies has already put the signal up to have all
captains and first mates report in." Al Kassir nodded and the lookout scampered
back up the short mast. Another wave of the captain's hand summoned Wazi, his
first mate.
   "Yes, captain?"
   "Have the pilot put us near the northern edge of the fleet. You and
I will go in aboard a longboat. If there's trouble, I'd prefer to not have
to push the Sweet Water out through the other ships."
   "Yes, sir." The first mate leaned in close and whispered. "Are you
alright, sir? You seem on edge."
   "Just nervous. I wish we knew if he was here."
   "We'll know soon enough."
   "Too true." The next hour passed slowly. Positioning the Sweet Water and
last minute instructions to his crew filled the minutes but, between the ticks
of the clock, doubt filled Al Kassir's mind. It had been easy to assume that
Kheired-Din was dead and plan a rebellion, but now he felt cold and alone. Most
of all, he wanted a drink. A dry Bernoulli to cut the taste of fear from his
mouth.
   In the longboat, he and Wazi exchanged glances and he immediately
felt better. They were in this together, along with Hirsh and the others. The
slaves grunted beneath the lash as Muzaf called out the chant and twisted the
whip handle in his palm. The slaves required far more beating than usual as
they moved in fearful awe of the fleet gathered around them. Scores of ships
ranging
in size from small couriers to galleons. And in the center of it all floated
the flagship, the Strange Skies. Al Kassir slowly surveyed the fleet.
All of those ships packed with the slaves gathered from all across Theah, all
guarded by hundreds of officers who ensured complete obedience, all of it created
and guided by one man. Kheired-Din. For a moment, he hoped that the Corsair
leader lived. While he yearned for his freedom, the thought of life without
the holy man filled his atheistic heart with fear. He shook himself and stared
straight ahead as the looming bulk of the Strange Skies grew before
him. It was an enormous galleon looking curiously dismembered without any oars
reaching into the water.
   Waves slapped against the longboat and recoiled towards the Corsairs ships on every side. Al Kassir didn't say a word until they pulled alongside the flagship. Turning to Muzaf, he croaked out, "Head
back to the Sweet Water and wait for orders." The crewman nodded.
   Al Kassir clambered up the rope ladder hanging from the Strange Skies'
side followed by Wazi carrying the Sweet Water's log upon his back. The Strange Skies was
an enormous ship but she was full now. Al Kassir recognized many of the other
Corsairs captain and loyal crew from all over the fleet. All gathered here. He
nodded to his allies and grinned at those who wanted him dead. One glance at
the crowd's eagerness was enough to answer his question. It was good to know
where he stood again. The doors leading down to the slaves hold were thrown open
and Corsairs meandered in and out of it. Heading down into the hold, he saw that
the slaves had scrubbed and cleaned the blood and piss from the decks. The oars
and benches had been removed and long tables filled the room. A huge map covered
one wall showing the Forbidden Sea and La Bocca. More captains thronged this
room and in the center stood the confirmation of Al Kassir's question. Tall enough
that his bald head brushed the ceiling and dressed only in a pair of cotton pants
stood the most powerful man in the Mirror. Kheried Din. His stance was casual,
but his personality dominated the entire room. With a glance, Al Kassir acknowledged
what his allies already knew. No rebellion would occur.
   Then Kheired-Din was before him and gestured towards another door.
Ice formed along Al Kassir's spine as the others parted before him and he passed
through the door into a small crew quarters. All of the furniture had been
removed from here as well. The only thing remaining was a set of manacles hanging
in
the center of the room. He turned and found himself face to face with a pair
of beautiful imperious eyes set in a cold face. Shala motioned him back towards
the manacles. Behind her, Kheried Din and Wazi entered the room. But Al Kassir
couldn't take his gaze from Shala's eyes. He felt his arms raised and the manacles
clasp onto each of his wrists without twitching. Even when she brought the
lash handle carved into a likeness of a Prophet's Cross to his lips, he did not
move
a muscle. The memory of a slave faced with a viper came to mind. The slave
had stared at it for long moments before it bit him. Al Kassir didn't even blink
until Shala moved around behind him. By then the ice in his spine had moved
up
and taken a hold of his brain. He stood staring in fear as Khereid-Din approached
him.
   "Al Kassir. I am disappointed. Appalled. Not that you would doubt
in our holy mission. I know that not all of our men, not even all of our captains
feel the call of God as I do. I use the flawed as well as the sanctified in
pursuit of the divine. I do not blame you for your unrighteousness.
   "I am not even upset that you and the others conspired against the
Corsairs. I know that when I am gone, the Corsairs will fall apart as those
who are flawed break apart and only the sanctified will remain. I understand
that
of men like you. Especially since you had already decided to only follow your
plan if I was dead. You are loyal to your fear of me, if not to my holy mission.
That is why you still live.
   "But I cannot forgive this." Khered-din reached back and Wazi slipped
a bottle out of the sack and placed it in his hand. It was a wine bottle, a
Falisci '08. One of the best and rarest vintages of Vodacce wine. Al Kassir knew
of only
three bottles still in existence and one of those was in his collection. Had
been in his collection. Al Kassir almost shrieked as Shala silently drew a
knife along the seams of his shirt. It fell off of him with a whisper as Kheired-Din
continued.
   "The blood of the vine has no place amongst us. I made that clear to you when you served on board this very ship. Apparently you did not remember your lesson. So now Shala will remind you." Kheired-Din handed the bottle past Al Kassir to the woman behind him. The sound of smashing glass was enough to bring tears to his face. "And
when you have remembered your place, then I have a mission for you and that
floating collection of glass temptation you call a ship."
   As Kheired-Din stepped back, Al Kassir felt soft fingertips trail
down his back. The sensation felt delicious against his icy cold skin. But
seconds later, he felt lines of pain follow as Shala dragged the jagged shards
of the
wine bottle across his flesh. Still Al Kassir didn't say a word until she began
dribbling the wine into the cuts. The wine slashed cuts of fire into his soul
and he screamed out. Only then did he feel the sharp kiss of Shala's lash.
His scream continued on for hours.