Joren hit the ground with a thud. Annoyed, he looked up at the saucy little mare that bucked him off. She looked at him coolly, innocently puzzled, as though wondering why and how he got down there.

He was in a small wood, the sunlight dim but plentiful, with green tress all around him, following a narrow dirt path through the wood that he knew lead to the harbor. The only problem was it was taking longer than he thought it would.

"Don't look at me like that, you little shit," he grumbled, mounting. The mare sidestepped and he found himself lying flat on his back, one foot still in the stirrup, on the ground. "Gods damn it," he muttered. "Hold still!"

This time he mounted much more slowly and carefully, keeping a wary eye on her. She stood tranquilly in place. He relaxed and nudged her. She bucked and he flew over her head.

"Listen you," he snarled, pinching her nostrils and looking into her startled brown eyes. "I am on a mission to save somebody before they get killed, and if I'm going to get there in time, you are going to have to cooperate. Do you understand?"

The mare stared at him impassively. Reassured, he mounted.

And fell off the other side.

~*~

"There it is, little warrior. The Sorcerer's Mistress."

Keladry gazed half-heartedly at the huge ship at the dock. Compared to all the other ones, this one was fairly large, but not the biggest one.

"Looks like an ordinary old ship to me," she muttered. "Nothing to be proud of."

Frenn sighed and shook his head. "This ship is the swiftest non-living thing without legs that can get us to Carthak. It's also the cleanest."

"It would be if those sailors weren't on it," she said, meaning the men who were carrying cargo up the plank. They were more of those Tyran bandit-sailors, dirty, greasy, lice-bitten bastards who looked as though they hadn't had a bath in a good two weeks.

"I have no problem with them," the redheaded man said nonchalantly. "You're the one who will have to keep their hands off you."

Kel went cold and looked up at the handsome, green-eyed man cloaked in black even in the daylight.

"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly.

"I mean, the boy Joren wanted you to be tortured completely, so he left orders for me to hire the most woman-deprived men I could find."

Oh, Joren, how could you?

"Oh," she managed weakly.

She missed the sad look on her captor's face.

~*~

"We aren't getting anywhere," Joren grunted. "We are only five feet away from where we were twenty minutes ago."

The mare snorted.

"Yeah, ha ha, that's so funny, ha ha," he snapped, glaring at her. She gazed at him sweetly. "Gods, you make Mindelan's horse Peachfuzz or whatever the heck his name is look like a darling. You know what? I'm going to call you Bitch. That's your name now—Bitch."

The mare shook her head.

"No? Why not? It suits you. How about…Mushroom?"

The mare stared at him.

"Just a guess…Hellfire?"

The mare bobbed her head.

"Hellfire? Okay then. That's your name. Hellfire. Whoop. Now that I've chosen a suitable name for you, will you let me ride you?"

Hellfire contemplated this, then sidled up to Joren and presented to him her back.

"Good little bitchy mare. Okay then. Onward!"

He mounted and fell off the other side.

~*~

Frenn put his hands on Kel's shoulders and steered her toward the ship. Her legs did not move easily; they wobbled and shook and threatened to collapse at any moment, but she steeled herself and forced them to move.

"Hurry," he hissed in her ear. "I didn't realize certain people were going to be here. I don't want them to see me!"

"Why?" Kel asked scornfully. "Scared of them?"

"They're pirates, rough ones. They outnumber me and my crew. For every one of us there are two or three or even four of them."

Still steering her toward the Sorcerer's Mistress, he pointed to another ship a ways down the harbor, slightly smaller but much more classy. A tattered black flag with a white skull on it waved proudly in the salty wind.

"That's the Mageskull," he whispered to her, quickening their pace. "It's said to be made of nothing more than the bones of mages they killed."

Kel herself was beginning to be nervous. She looked around with wide eyes, seeing only sailors and captains, then asked the assassin, "Why are they after you? What did you do?"

Frenn sighed, a little regretfully, she noticed, as they hurried up the plank. "I killed the pirate captain's daughter, Anesia. He wants his revenge."

"What would he do if he found me?" she whispered.

He looked at her. "Spoil and kill you," he replied solemnly, before shoving her into the ship.

~*~

Sand sprayed everywhere as Joren pulled on the reins. Hellfire squealed and reared, indignant.

He dismounted quickly and stumbled forward, eyes fixed on the ships in the wharf. What was the ship called? Tony didn't say…in fact, Tony did not reveal much at all. Damn it.

Joren gritted his teeth and squinted against the sun, eyes searching the ocean. There was a big ship—at least, he thought it was big—in the far distance, but it was much to far away to tell what the name was, much less if Mindelan was on it.

Some men walked by him. Joren paid little attention to them until one of them said in a very low voice,

"…after t' assassin from Tony's house."

"You sure he's here? I didn't see him."

"If t' Cap'n says Frenn's 'ere, then Frenn's prolly 'ere." 

Tony, and Frenn.

Joren grabbed one of the men's arm. The man snapped his head around and glared at the blond.

"Say now. What's your problem, laddy?"

"You know who Tony is?"

The man stiffened.

"Aye, I do," he hissed. "But ya better not say a word tha' I do or I'll 'ave your ear!"

"No, no," Joren murmured. "I was hoping you could help me…"

"Any money on ya, lad? If so I could work somethun out."

"S-Sorry, I don't have any with me, but if you help me I'll be sure to get you some—"

"Ha," the other man scorned. "I heard that one when I was a boy. Don' even try it, pretty one."

Joren winced. "Please, sir! The man, Frenn, he has a girl—"

"Ah, he 'as your lady, does he, now? If Frenn has her, then more than likely he's been 'ired to kill 'er."

"Will you help me, please, sirs?"

"Aw, come on, Kris," the man he had grabbed said. "The Cap'n 'as a weak spot for the lasses of the world, he'll prolly help."

"Aye," Kris said dubiously, "but the lad may not be trusted…"

"He's one of those soft nobles," the other man continued cheerily. "What harm could he do?"

"Well…okay." Kris grabbed Joren roughly by the ear. "Come on, lad. We're taking you to see the Cap'n."