Dungeons Just Want to Have Fun

A storm raged through the Poor Quarter. Its rampage couldn’t be stopped or slowed by those unfortunate enough to live there. Walls could not hold it back, doors were flung open or beaten down. Windows, at least ones with glass, were a rarity in the Quarter. If they had existed, they would surely have shattered with the violence of the storms passing.

Safely holed up in their warehouse, well outside of the Poor Quarter, Anton and the others listened to the reports from Zaphar. It was easy enough for him to keep an ear out for the gossip in the marketplace— everyone was talking about Salim Al-Kadir.

“At least he’s not killing people,” Aris said uncertainly.

“Yet,” Soraya countered. “As mad as he is, it’s only a matter of time.”

“I don’t think so,” Kelsey said. “He does seem angry, but it sounds like he’s still in control.”

“What part of that sounds like control to you?” Anton demanded. “Breaking into homes, interrogating people in the street…”

“Two things,” Kelsey said. “One, he hasn’t killed anyone, as easy as that would be for him. Two, he’s kept to the Poor Quarter.”

“Isn’t that because that’s where he thinks we are?” Anton asked. “That’s where we did the handover.”

“That doesn’t mean that’s where we live,” Kelsey corrected. “It’s not the only clue that leads there—I dropped some skeletons off in the sewers in that quarter a while back. Eventually, they’ll find their way out or get discovered, and each one is another clue for Al-Kadir.”

“So we are trying to make him think we live there,” Anton pushed.

“Sure, but he has to have considered that they might be ploys. A few reports of undead isn’t a sure sign.”

“Then why is he going through the quarter at all?” Anton asked.

“Two reasons. For one, we could be there. He has to check to be sure and the quarter is a place where he can search as savagely as he wants without repercussions.”

“What do you mean?” Anton asked, feeling a little sick. What Al-Kadir was doing was because of them, after all.

Kelsey nodded at Zaphar. “You heard him,” she said. “People are shocked, people are outraged, but nobody is doing anything about it. Nobody cares about the Poor Quarter. If he tried this somewhere else, he’d get some pushback.

“So what happens when he runs out of Poor Quarter to search?” Anton wondered.

“He won’t,” Kelsey said grimly. “That’s where the second reason comes into play.”

“What’s the second reason?” Anton asked.

“Al-Kadir is rich, you know? That means he has money. That means that he can hire people.”

She looked over at Zaphar again. “You hear any stories about anybody else with him?” she asked.

Zaphar shook his head. “No, some mention a single servant that travels with him, but…”

Kelsey nodded in satisfaction. “So if they’re not with him, where are they?”

“He might not have hired anyone…” Anton tried, but she just gave him a pitying look. “Fine, they must be outside of the quarter.”

“Exactly,” Kelsey said. “While he rages around making a big distraction and letting us think we’re safe from him, his men go around quietly. Looking for us.”

Anton shivered. “So what do we do?” he asked.

“We get the hell out of town, kid. Let’s run like we stole something.”

Anton hadn’t imagined that running would involve quite so much paperwork.

“These all seem to be in order,” The courl said happily, looking over the documents and at the large pouch of gold. “You are now the proud owner of the Whiskerwind.”

“Ugh, think I’ll change the name first thing,” Kelsey said.

“That’s your prerogative,” the salesman agreed.

“Is there any chance I can make use of your dry dock?” Kelsey asked. “I need to get some work done below the waterline.”

“Mhmm, we don’t have a proper dry dock available right now, but the Whiskerwind is small enough that we can drag it out of the water and put it on blocks for you. Will that do?”

“That’s fine,” Kelsey said, “As long as it’s out of your way. I’d like to have privacy while I work.”

“I see…” the courl paused, and then continued carefully. “I feel that I should warn you, the harbour inspectors are quite thorough and well versed in spotting many of the… tricks that merchants use to avoid paying tax.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Kelsey assured him. “Just some secret shipbuilding techniques from the Far North.”

“I see. Well, there will be an additional fee, of course,”

“I expected nothing less.”

“I don’t see why you put up a tent if all you were going to hide was you chopping a hole with an axe,” Anton said.

Kelsey grinned at him as she drove her axe into the wood with a loud thunk. She seemed to be making reasonable progress at cutting a small hole in the stern. Anton would have expected it to go faster, but this part of the boat seemed to be quite sturdy.

“This is only the first part,” Kelsey told him. “The secret part will come soon enough.”

She returned to her work and quickly finished the ragged-edged hole.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Anton raised his eyebrows. “I think it doesn’t look seaworthy anymore?” he said.

“Pftt! That’s what I get for asking a layman,” Kelsey complained. “Let’s see what an expert has to say.”

Holding out her hand, she made a skeleton appear on the platform they were standing on. This one was dressed in a bright yellow vest and wore a strange, light-looking helmet in the same colour. It grinned at Anton and then turned to grin at Kelsey. Then it looked at the hole.

Somehow, despite still showing its teeth, it wasn’t grinning anymore.

“Yes, there!” Kesley said. “There needs to be a hole for the shaft to come out.”

The skeleton gestured at the hole and then stuck its head in.

“Don’t give me that,” Kelsey said. “You can just reinforce it with steel or something.”

The skeleton started counting something off on its fingers. To each count, Kelsey would respond with something like, “I’ve got that,” or “I can get them working on that.”

Finally, she handed it a tape measure. “Then let me know the specs you need.” The skeleton nodded and started taking measurements around the hole and of the stern generally. Then it started climbing into the hole.

“Um, there’s another way around…” Kelsey said, but the skeleton was already half inside. It struggled. Halfway through, it caught its vest on a jagged splinter and Anton had to free it.

“Let’s go the easy way,” Kelsey said when the skeleton had dropped inside. “Most of the stuff I need to bring through is for the inside, anyway.”

So the papers are coming along?” Kelsey asked.

“They are,” Soraya said proudly. “It would go faster if I was able to make the applications myself, but Zaphar has made for an adequate replacement.”

They were back in the hideout. The main team and a few of the girls were sitting around the table, getting filled in on the plan. The rest of the girls were making use of the new addition to the hideout, a bathing room.

Kelsey had declared that it had become an urgent necessity when the street kids had arrived. No one in the hideout was exactly clean, but the kids had been filthy. They were also, according to Kelsey, infested.

“Get them in there, use this stuff on everything,” she demanded. “Otherwise, I’ll send in the spiders to eat all the insects.”

No one was sure if she was joking, but they didn’t argue. The boys had been young enough that getting scrubbed down by their “older sisters” wasn’t a problem, but the stinging soap put an end to a lot of the shenanigans.

That had been a few days ago, though, and the kids had passed a close inspection from Kelsey. Now they were learning to enjoy the free availability of hot water, courtesy of their friendly neighbourhood dungeon.

That was another of Kelsey’s phrases that Anton knew better than to talk about.

“I can’t say I’m wild about becoming slave traders,” Kelsey said.

“It’s the easiest way for you to transport a group of, well, ex-slaves,” Soraya said, her voice catching at the end. “Given that my father is still searching for them, the authorities will be quite suspicious of a passenger vessel carrying mostly Zamarran humans.”

“Won’t they be just as suspicious of a cargo of slaves?” Aris asked. “They don’t know we freed them.”

“Yes, that’s why we will be forging the papers for the girls themselves,” Soraya explained. “It’s easy enough to apply for a permit to transport slaves—”

“Easy, she says,” Zaphar said, shuddering. “It was a nightmare! All those questions…”

“Questions which I provided you with the answers to,” Soraya declaimed. “In any case, assuming you can forge papers for the girls that the Harbormaster will accept, we will be allowed to leave. It is only when the details are sent back to the Administration that someone will make the connection between our cargo and the missing slaves.”

“At which point the jig will be up,” Kelsey said. “We’re relying on the wheels of bureaucracy turning slowly enough for us to slip through them.”

“It should take a few days,” Soraya said. “By which time we will be long gone. Word will be sent to our listed destination, of course, but…”

“But that’s not our actual destination,” Kelsey finished for her. “So what needs forging?”

Soraya spread some papers in front of her. “These are the documents that Zaphar stole from my father’s archive. As you can see, there’s a covering page that lists all the girls. This part needs to stay the same, but we need to replace the names here with this list.”

“I see,” Kelsey said, scanning over the two documents. She made them disappear. “What’s next?”

“Next is the sheet for each girl, listing characteristics and distinguishing features,” Soraya said. “Here is the sample document, and here—” she said, handing over a sheaf of papers, “—is what this part should say, repeated for each of our passengers.”

“That all seems pretty clear,” Kesley said, vanishing the papers away. “What papers do you— and for that matter the rest of us— need?”

“We’re all listed as part of Zaphar’s trading company,” Soraya explained. “I’m his assistant, and you are all foreign investors. He’s doing the trading, though, so all you need are the travel permits you should have got from Rused.”

“We were a little busy when we left and forgot them,” Kelsey said.

“Of course,” Soraya said sarcastically. “Fortunately, Zaphar was able to steal this entry permit from a merchant who did come through Rused while following the proper procedures.”

“What’s going to happen to the merchant?” Aris asked.

Soraya shrugged. “He already came in on the pass, so he can probably request a new one if he reports the old one stolen,” she said. “It depends on his standing with the Administration.”

“Zaphar can get this back to him once I’m done,” Kelsey said, examining the slip of paper closely. “If he hasn’t tried to leave, he might not even notice it’s gone.”

“Perhaps,” Soraya said. “In any case, you’ll need three of these, one for each of you. The only part that changes is your name and country of origin. I’ve listed what they should be, here.”

“That all seems fine,” Kelsey said. “And none of these have seals?”

“Zaphar’s incorporation permit has a seal,” Soraya said. “All of the others… they get made too often to spend wax on them. They do have a stamp on them, but you seemed certain that…”

“I should be able to duplicate it,” Kelsey said.

“Good,” Soraya replied. “As long as you can copy it, just go with the stamp that’s on the sample documents. Each official has their own stamp, so it’s not like inspectors can be familiar with each one.”

“But I’m guessing that each stamp is registered with the central authority so that they can trace who authorised what?”

“Yes,” Soraya said. “But tracing that takes time, and we’ll—”

“Be long gone,” Kelsey said. “Good to hear.”