Chapter 7
It took a while to prepare. Duchene had to settle his accounts in Booty Bay first, and that meant terminating his agreement with his landlord, buying a mount, acquiring travel supplies, and making a few other arrangements. All of this took time and money. Fortunately, he had plenty of the latter – he'd long ago learned how to use the auction house to turn a profit. And he'd saved the excess, because though he couldn't recall having taken a vow of poverty, he'd never had the urge to live extravagantly. His clothes and the occasional whore were all he really spent money on.
The sun sets early in the tropics, and it was full dark by the time he made his way up the path to Gruben's place. He entered the compound and ignored the barking of the two-headed mutt chained to a post in the yard and strode up to the verandah. He paused to check his stuff to make sure that the ledger was where he needed it to be and the letters to the Bloodsail Buccaneers were safely stashed in another bag, and then he knocked on the door.
Gruben himself answered, smiling broadly up at Duchene. "Back for more are you, priest? Well as it happens she's not with a customer right now. I can let you in for a half hour for fifty. What do you say?" the goblin ushered Duchene in the door and into the foyer.
"Actually, I would like to discuss some business with you." The undead said.
"Business?" Gruben smiled avidly, "What kind of business?"
"I wish to purchase the draenei."
Gruben lost his smile. "That's out of the question. She's still working off her debts."
"I can pay the remainder." Duchene said mildly.
"If I allowed you to do that, how would she ever learn the error of her ways?" Gruben sneered. Duchene sighed. It was clear that the goblin was going to force him to do things the hard way.
"I suggest you reconsider that, Gruben. She owed you ten thousand, and that amount was dubious at best. She's made you double that already, even considering the money you spent on her." He would much rather he didn't have to resort to blackmail, but he would if Gruben wouldn't budge on this.
"How do you know all that?" the goblin snapped, beady eyes glittering dangerously.
The undead reached into his robe and withdrew just enough of the ledger for the goblin to recognize what he held. Gruben snarled in recognition and lunged at Duchene. The priest had been expecting this, and a single gesture with his free hand brought a glowing shield humming around him. The goblin bounced off it without any harm.
"I believe this proves that she's more than paid off her debts by now." The undead said urbanely. "And I believe Baron Revilgaz might be interested in certain other business transactions you've conducted with funds gleaned from her."
"How did you get that?!" the goblin demanded.
"That's not important. What's important is the fact that this ledger contains a great deal of information, some of it very very damning. However, I am willing to make a deal. Revilgaz need never know about your 'campaign contributions' to his enemies. Just sign the draenei over to me and I'll destroy the book." Duchene suggested. He kept his voice very reasonable, very polite. He hid his delight at seeing the goblin squirm.
Gruben ground his teeth audibly, then relented. "Fine. I'll give you the draenei. But I want to see you destroy that book."
"Consider it done. But I want that bill showing she's mine. And the controls for the collar she wears."
"Alright, alright. Follow me." Gruben gestured to the undead and led him into the goblin's study. The pint-sized humanoid stopped dead in his tracks on seeing the original ledger still in its place. "Wait a second… That's a fake!"
"Actually, it's a perfect replica." The priest opened the copy to a random page, and held it out close enough for the goblin to see yet too far away for it to be grabbed easily. Gruben squinted as he scanned the page. Then he grunted.
"Alright, alright! I still don't know how you got that," the little green man snarled. He flung himself in his chair and pulled a fresh sheet of paper from a drawer in the desk. His feather pen scratched as he wrote out the bill of transference, and he spoke as he wrote.
"I, Gruben Cranklesproket, money lender, of the goblins, do hereby declare that the payment of the remainder of the debt owed by the draenei known as Kian, or Fashion Plate, shall be transferred to one Duchene, priest, of the forsaken. Said draenei shall henceforth make all payments on this debt to the person of Duchene. As the draenei is indentured as reparation for her unpaid debts, control of her indenture shall likewise pass to Duchene. This document shall serve as official notice of transfer. Signed, Gruben Cranklesproket." The goblin dated the document and sanded the parchment. Once it had dried, he tapped the sand off and placed it on the edge of his desk. "Let's see your part of the bargain."
"The collar controls," Duchene reminded him. Gruben scowled, fished in his pocket, and pulled out a small device. He placed it on the bill of transference.
The priest shielded himself, held the ledger out and focused his power, calling holy fire to the book. The leather-bound volume flared with brilliant red-gold flame, burning hot and intense. Within seconds, all that was left was pale white ash which sifted away from the undead's hands. Before the goblin recovered from the dramatic sight, Duchene took the bill and the collar controls.
"I wish to take my property," the undead said.
Kian was sitting on her bed in a plain linen dress, concentrating intently on the needle and thread in her hands. When her door slammed open, she sat up with a shock and accidentally pricked her finger. "Yipe!" she squeaked, and stuck the bleeding digit in her mouth, staring at the door. There was Duchene, and Gruben. The goblin looked angry and she tried to keep from flinching. But what was the priest doing here? It hadn't been seven days yet. And she wasn't even in the business room.
"Get up, Fashion Plate. You're done here. Get the hell out of my house." Gruben snarled at her.
"M-master, what?" What the hell was going on here?
"You heard me! Get out of here. This thing," the goblin made a violent gesture towards the Duchene, "is your master now."
Too confused and afraid to fully comprehend what was going on, she stood up, uncertain of what to do. Six months of abuse and enforced powerlessness had made far more timid and passive than she would ever care to admit. It was a shameful state for a dragon.
The goblin grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the room. "Alright Duchene, you have your draenei. Get off my property and get out of my sight."
Duchene took her hand and led her from the room and through the halls of the goblin's fancy home, and out into the cool night air. She kept pace with him, not daring to ask what was going on, for she had seen in his hand a curl of paper, and the dreaded controls for the collar she wore. She was afraid, and she felt betrayed. How could Duchene, who had been so kind to her, hold the keys to her continued enslavement?
"Come on Kian. We're going to have to get out of Booty Bay. I suspect that Gruben won't let us go that easily." Duchene said to her as they walked the path from the goblin's house to the harbor town. She said nothing, just kept up with him.
She was silent for the whole walk through the town, hardly daring to gaze around. They made their way past the tavern, past the shacks on the decks over the water, up the stairs and into the mouth of the cave. Once on the other side of the cave, they walked a little ways along the road and then Duchene stopped. He pushed the paper and the collar's controls into one of his bags, and rummaged around, pulling out something that looked like reins. Satisfied, he flicked them in the air with a snap.
Suddenly, a skeletal charger appeared in a puff of smoke, giving a ghostly neigh. She heard her master mutter something about that being a handy trick, then he mounted up. He turned to her, and stretched out a hand.
"Ride behind me. We have a long ways to go and we'll have to ride through most of the night. I'm sorry, but I want to be as far from here as I can before sunrise. If we move now, we might be able to make it halfway to the old arena." he said. "Grom'gol is four days away, even on this mount."
She was still confused, still hurt, but she took his hand and mounted behind him. It never occurred to her to disobey.
"Have you ever ridden before?" Duchene asked, apparently noticing that she sat behind him like a sack of grain.
"No."
"I'm sorry your first experience is on one of these, then. They're bumpy, but they're fast. They don't need to eat or sleep, and they can keep a pace forever that would kill a living horse. Put your arms around me and hang on tight." She complied, clinging to the priest.
He flicked the reins and the skeletal horse suddenly surged forward. The sudden movement had her tightening her grip on Duchene. In the darkness she could see the forest streaking by. While the undead horse was not as fast as she was when she flew, it was still much faster than she'd ever travelled by land. She didn't want to think of what the consequences would be if she hit the road at that speed.
They rode through the night, never slackening the pace. At first, it wasn't so bad, but as the night dragged on, Kian desperately struggled to keep herself awake. She'd already had a full day of housekeeping before Duchene had arrived. Thankfully, no clients had yet come when he had, or she would no doubt be even more exhausted than she already was.
Finally, in the wee hours of the morning before sunrise, mists crept in and shrouded the jungle around them. Duchene slowed his horse and made his way through the fog carefully, as the twisting road was difficult to see. The fog was rapidly thickening, and he led the horse off the road, finding a small, sheltered opening in the jungle. He stopped the horse, and dismounted, then moved quickly to prevent her from falling off the horse after him.
"Light, Kian, I'm sorry. You look nearly dead on your feet. We can't really go any farther, why don't you get some sleep?" he said. He sounded concerned, caring. Maybe things weren't so bad after all. Kian looked at him tiredly and gave a little nod. When he produced a bedroll from his travel bags and laid it out on the grass, she gratefully curled up in it and fell instantly asleep.
