“See, look here at the marks on her neck.”

Voices and light were coming into clarity, a momentary dissipation of the haze in her head.

“Spurious evidence at best,” a deeper voice replied. “ You're seeing what you want to see, Serik.”

She recognized that name from before, the man at the inn. His hands were on her, inspecting her as they moved about over her shoulders and neck. One particular sharp turn of her jaw sent explosions of pain shooting behind her eyes and into her temples. Unable to do little else, her limbs unresponsive in her weakened state, she could do little more than snap her teeth at the hands like a shark. Opening her eyes, she caught a glimpse of the young man scrambling backwards into the legs of his companion. The resulting impact did little more than jostle the larger man, and he remained standing, arms across his barrel chest.

“This isn't going to work,” he replied.

“ Always so negative, Reza,” Sairk said, dismissing his compatriots reservations with a flippant wave of the hand.

The exertion to defend herself took the remaining reserves of energy out of Arlenis, and she leaned hard against the wall behind her for support.

“Why… why have you taken me?” she rasped, throat raw and painful.

Dehydration was taking its toll. The haze was reconstituting around her. Blinking her eyes did nothing, and she barely had the strength to keep her head aloft.

“Ransom,” Serik finally replied. “Hey, hey!” He shouted, repeatedly tapping her cheek. “You’re no good to me dead.”

“What... do... you want?”

“No harm will come to you as long as you cooperate.” He took her face into the grip of his hand. “We just want to help you get home.”

“You have had many absurd plans in the past, my friend— ” Reza scoffed. “ — many plans that I have gone along with, but this is ridiculous.” He took a step closer. “The Abyssal will never barter safe passage for a ship, even if she is alive.”

“We'll never know if we don't try. Help me,” Serik hoisted her up from her slumped position against the wall, pleading to Reza, motioning with his other hand for assistance. “Besides what's the worst that could happen— they say no?”

“They drag us down into the cold depths and use our flesh to feed their young.”

“See?” Serik paused, raising his hand as if you were illustrating his point. “ Forever the naysayer… Need I remind you…” He groaned as he struggled to lift Arlenis’ dead weight by himself, “...that one of the rules of being bound to a mortal you owe your life is that you go along with all of their plans, absurd or otherwise, despite your opinion.”

“ I do not recall that in the sacred laws of binding.” Reza sighed finally submitting, coming over to Serik and helping to lift Arlenis with little difficulty.

“It's right there,” Serik panted, obviously exerting much more energy and strength to move her than Reza, “next to the part that says you have to make me breakfast and do my laundry.”

“You and I have read very different copies of the Sacred Laws.”

“Mine was probably the abridged version.”

Once they had lifted her and carried her across the room, she felt them lay her down on something pliable, if not quite soft. Dense bags filled with something small shifted strangely under her weight.

“Serik,” Reza begin again once they have left her to rest, “you know that I would follow you anywhere— I owe you that much, but my friend, this plan of yours is murder- suicide.”

“They sent her up here for a reason, and they're going to want her back. She's probably a spy— “

“Why would the Abyssal send spies?” Reza asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, but the question was lost amid Serik’s rant.

“— And in exchange for her safe return, I don't think it's out of the question to demand safe passage for our ship and its crew— “

“So, basically for us…”

“— from all Abyssal attacks in the future.”

Now, for the first time since she had washed ashore, Arlenis found the strength to laugh. The other two, surprise by the abrupt but melodical sound, turn to face Arlenis.

“Even if they did want me back,” she gritted her teeth through laughter, “they would have you ensnared before you even registered that they were there.”

Serik approached, drawing himself down to her eye level as she rolled to face him.

“What do you mean, even if?”

“ I have been cast out by my kind, mortal.” Another wave of pain rolled through her jaw at the movement required for talking. “They would likely kill me as quickly as you without even hesitating.”

“Cast you out?” Serik raised an eyebrow.

Painstakingly, she raised a trembling hand to her neck, languidly letting the tips of her fingers fall to rest on the face scars on her neck, tapping it for emphasis.

“Cursed,” Reza answered Serik’s question for her.

“What?”

Serik turned to look between them, coming back to Arlenis. She simply nodded in affirmation at his statement. Perhaps this was unwise. She couldn't trust these mortals. Mentally, she chastised herself. She had to stop referring to them as if they were other than her. She was one of them now, more like their kind than her own. Even so, they were still strangers.

Yet, they had not truly harmed her. They had not even bound her limbs. Were they being opportunistic and taking advantage of her suffering? Yes. But, they had not threatened her or further harm her despite knowing what she was and the danger she represented.

“ I have heard of this before. We Bast have a similar practice it is a form of— “

“Punishment.”

She beat Reza to the punch, misery evident in each syllable she pronounced. Her head rolled back to stare at the ceiling of the cargo hold, teetering on the brink of consciousness, or maybe if she was lucky, the finality of death.

“What is wrong with her?”

Gently nudging Serik aside, Reza took her face into his large hand. He thumbed open her eyelids, examining the non dilating pupils there-in.

“How long have you been out of the water?”

“...don’t... know. Maybe days…”

“She’s dying.”

“Can you do anything?” Serik asked, his voice catching at the sudden gravity of the situation.

“Put her somewhere more comfortable then the spare bags of rice.”

Serik pinned him with a glare. Reza ushed Serik out of the way again. He stepped back, holding his arms across his stomach at his elbows observing over Reza’s shoulder. Lifting her limp hand, she felt Reza wrap two of his fingers around her slim wrist as he supported its weight in the palm of his much larger hand. She could hear him whispering repetitively, but she was unable to make out the words. His other hand spanned the width of her forehead.

“ I've never seen you perform this type of magic before,” Serik said. “ What are you doing?”

“It's an ancient mystical art called checking for a pulse,” Reza quipped. “Her heart is beating very slow, and she is feverish. If she has never been exposed to a mortal environment for this long she will have no immunities. Even something as innocuous as a head cold could be the death of her.”

Serik groaned, raking a hand through his hair, annoyed and pointing at Reza.

“Absolutely no I told you so’s.”

“Another unwritten sacred law I am unfamiliar with?”

“Yeah, “ Serik huffed. “It’s called ‘Shut up and help me move her to my bed’. It's in the very fine print.”