you.”
Dexter stared at her for a moment, looking into her eyes and judging what he found within them. Slanted slightly due to her elven heritage, they nevertheless held no guile or treachery within them. Instead he saw an openness and honesty that left him trusting her more than he felt he should. He nodded, agreeing.
“Alright, let’s go,” he told her, stepping away and turning to open the door.
She grabbed up the supplies she needed and followed Dexter up the companionway towards the bridge. When she caught up to him he was just sticking his head in through the door to the bridge.
“Kragor, the ship’s yours while I’m away. If we’re not back after a day, she’s all yours,” Dexter said, turning about and brushing past Jenna then mounting the stairs to the deck.
Jenna heard Kragor bluster behind them, then mutter, “he keeps saying that, I’m for fearing one of these times he might be meaning it.”
A startled crew above watched Dexter and Jenna leave the ship, even Rosh’s offer to accompany them being turned down. With little else to keep them busy, Rosh, Keshira, and even Jodyne quickly fell to when Kragor yelled for them to get back to making the ship ready to leave.
The trek back through Port Freedom was hurried and without conversation or incident. Jenna easily kept up with the pace that Dexter set, though it left her little spare wind for questions. It was just as well, for her mind was busy with deciding what she would tell the sheriff of Port Freedom that would convince him.
Dexter burst into the offices used by the city guard without slowing. He looked at the surprised members of the watch that stared at him and the door that he had sent swinging into the wall, a few of them even reaching for weapons.
“Where’s Rolxoth?” Dexter demanded, looking around.
“Sheriff’s in his office,” one man said, gesturing towards a door in the wall.
Dexter glanced at the door and then her, giving her one last chance to back out. He shrugged when she nodded, then he started towards it. The man that had spoke to him before held up his hand, stalling him. He turned, the other mostly going back to their own business, and walked to the door.
“Sheriff, the skipper of that ship you been eyeing up is back to see you,” he said after he opened the door and leaned in.
Rolxoth grumbled something that they could not hear. The man backed away from the door and made room for Rolxoth to walk through it. He faced them, letting them stew for a moment wondering whether they really had his attention or not.
“You have news already?” he asked, his tone voicing his doubt and irritation at their interruption.
Dexter nodded. “Aye, I do.”
Rolxoth cocked his featureless head in what they deemed to be surprise. He backed up into his office and turned away from them. His voice, unchanged by his new orientation, bade them, “Come and tell me of it.”
Dexter and Jenna followed him in, then both nearly jumped when the door swung shut behind them. “Speak freely, this room is protected from prying eyes,” Rolxoth said.
“The elves come for Port Freedom,” Dexter said, ignoring the grim humor of how Rolxoth himself appeared to have no eyes.
Rolxoth chuckled. “That is one of many rumors I hear on the streets and taverns, you must do better.”
Jenna stepped forward, surprising an open-mouthed Dexter who was about to protest. Her hands went to her belt, untying it and tossing it to a startled Dexter. She proceeded to undo the ties on her breeches, then pushed them down and stepped out of them.
Dexter found himself staring at her from behind, admiring the curve and shape of both her legs and posterior. She glanced back at him, smiling weakly, and then turned so that they could both see her from the front.
“Captain, I need a sharp knife,” Jenna asked him.
Dexter pulled out one of the daggers from his belt and stepped closer, handing it to her. He had no idea what she was doing, but her strange performance had left him unable to do anything else. She clearly had something in mind. Rolxoth was likewise fascinated with the show.
Jenna took the blade of the dagger and used it to scrape away the sparse hair that covered her loins. Already fine, her blond hair fell to the sharp knife and drifted to the ground, revealing an intricate tattoo in her flesh behind it, that of a woven ring of vines surrounding something Dexter had trouble making out.
“You bear the mark of the house of Windchaser!” Rolxoth hissed, his deep voice rumbling in spite of his tone.
“Who’s that?” Dexter asked, concerned by the sheriff’s reaction.
“The royal house of the elven empire,” Rolxoth said. “You bring a spy amongst us, Captain.”
“I’m not a spy!” Jenna protested angrily.
Dexter thought back to when he had first met her, in a Federation prison cell. She had been put in there for being a spy as well. His eyes narrowed as he looked into hers. He saw hers widen and then narrow, moisture growing in them briefly before it was blinked away.
“Look closer,” Jenna demanded, pointing with a finger at the mark. Her finger traced the tattoo around the mark. “This marks a circle of protection, or a barrier. It is ensorcelled to prevent anyone from tracking me by my birthmark.”
Dexter realized that the strange mark in the middle, something resembling a crescent shaped sail over a beam, was in fact a birthmark and not a part of the tattoo. It was marred badly however, and only his dim recollection of hearing something about a symbol like that long ago allowed him to draw the conclusion.
“The further proof is the brand atop my birthmark,” she said, explaining the distortion that nearly prevented Dexter from identifying it. “I received it the day I was banished from elven lands at the hands of the Royal Inquisitioner! The tattoo came later, as did my adoption of the name Darkwind.”
Dexter blinked. It was the first time he had heard her surname. It had always been just Jenna until now. He nodded, accepting her story, and turned back to Rolxoth.
“Now do you believe it?” Dexter asked him.
Rolxoth chuckled softly. “Compelling evidence… what proof do you have? Merely being an estranged cousin to the royal family is not enough.”
Jenna shrugged, bending down and drawing her pants back up. Dexter found himself distracted by her movements, then forced himself to focus anew when she straightened and spoke again.
“Not so distant,” she said. “I was the third born in line of succession. I know of their long standing plans to occupy Port Freedom, though some wish it secretly and others publicly, so that they have another tool to use against the Federation.”
“If they come publicly, that means Tanagar has the ear of the emperor at last and has marshaled a fleet to carry the army in disguise. Few will be the elven vessel that carries them, yet they will land and instill themselves amongst you. You will have no idea when they are here until it is too late, then they will act.”
“Bah, we’ll know them for they are elves!” Rolxoth said, clearly growing angered.
Jenna shook her head. “Not for this. Some will be elves, sure, but some will be other races controlled by elves. Some work for money, some are compelled. Some will be magically disguised. They will infiltrate every part of Port Freedom, including the city watch. Perhaps they even know of a race of people able to assume the face of any man or woman they see in passing.”
Rolxoth faced her directly, all of his attention focused on her. He nodded at last. And asked, “You know of my kind?”
Jenna shrugged. “Rumors mostly. Stories told of demons coming in the night to do murder.”
He laughed, the sound of it sounding more sinister to Dexter than anything he had yet heard. “To bind a Malvoli to service is difficult indeed,” he said at length. “To purchase their service less so, but still so costly I doubt your people would be able to afford it.”
“Malvoli?” Dexter whispered, trying the strange word out.
“That is what I am, Captain Silvercloud. I come from another place, a place unthinkable by your people,” he acknowledged.
“Don’t doubt the intent or fervor of the elves,” Jenna said. “They’ve plans for this place; plans that do not involve a peaceful retirement for you or your men.”
He nodded to her. “Perhaps they do. The price of service is measured in blood and in souls, not in gold and jewels.”
