The Captain's command rang clearly in the Oracle's ear. She did not hesitate, did not even think twice or look back at the Captain, when she grabbed the Rigger and stepped into the portal she created. After all, this was the plan. She had to get to her sister. Caxton jumped at the sudden appearance of two people near him. Grabbing Aylin, Caxton held his cutlass to her throat, breathing heavily.

'Get away from me!' Caxton cried.

'Sister!', Aylin whimpered.

'Caxton, let her go!' Oracle whispered, trying to ignore the spasm that ran through her body at her sister's cry for help. She held her palms up to show that she didn't have any weapons.

'Don't come closer! I - I will jam this down your sister's throat.' Caxton stammered. 'Hear that? Get away from - from me!'

A swish from above their heads alerted the Oracle of the Quartermaster's arrival.

The Quartermaster landed heavily in-front of Rhys Caxton, who had Aylin at knifepoint. They - the captor, the captive, and the other two people - gaped at the black-clad, bespectacled man who had dropped in from the skies. The Quartermaster grabbed his crossbow, aiming it squarely at Caxton's eyes, the arrow just an inch away from Caxton's brow.

'Get your knife away from the kid, Caxton.' The Quartermaster snarled. Trembling, Caxton let go of Aylin, who ran to her sister. The Quartermaster did not look back as The Oracle teleported herself, her sister, and the Rigger in a burst of purple light. Catching hold of Caxton, the Quartermaster looked over to his captain, just in time to see her get up and look back at him.

                       ---------------------------------------------

In the time it took the Captain to walk quietly over to his platform, the Quartermaster had tied Caxton's hands and had gagged him with a piece of tablecloth.

'We need to take this muck with us', jerking her head towards Caxton, the Captain whispered. She did not want the entire might of the Oracle's Guild to come down upon them, which she was sure would happen, if they discover the pirates who had been killing each other on their islands, under their very noses. The fight with Huxford had been swift and quiet. Although he had bled a lot, she did not think anyone would notice it anytime soon. The perks of having a dark, hanging, level all to themselves.

'Alright.' The Quartermaster whispered back, taking out a black, cylindrical disc, as big as his palm. It had sharp hooks attached to it. The Quartermaster didn't question his captain about the change of plans. The time for that would come later.

'Is that one of Gunner's?', the Captain asked. 'Does this work?' The Quartermaster shrugged.

'Dunno! Only one way to find out!', a crooked smile on his lips, the Quartermaster hooked the disc onto the rope that tied Caxton's hands together. After checking that the disc was secure, he slapped it sharply - the disc ejected a grappling hook from its side which propelled upwards into the dark. Another slap to the disc, the rope attached to the grappling hook retracted, dragging the disc upwards. Along with the disc, Caxton too was dragged upwards in a flurry of clothes and muffled screams.

'Well what do ya know... It works..' The Captain's snort was more astonished than mirthful. She made a mental note to congratulate her gunner.

'You go up first, I'll stand watch.' The Captain heeded the wise words of the Quartermaster. With a final fist-bump and a 'See you up there, bud', the Captain shimmied up the rope, her quartermaster standing guard.

                      -------------------------------------------

'Why did I bruise my lung trying to lift this bulky piece of flesh?' the Quartermaster gasped out the question, panting from the effort of hauling Caxton up through the opening in the roof.

'I have questions.' The Captain replied, taking the crossbow from the Quartermaster, wind fluttering her dress on the open roof. 'I need answers.'

An involuntary whimper escaped Rhys as he looked at the Captain. Somehow, the sight of the tiny woman, in her long dress splattered with blood, tempted him to burst out crying.

'Are you sure he will talk?' the Quartermaster asked, squatting in-front of Rhys, eyes shadowed behind his glinting spectacles.

'Yes,' the Captain replied, her steel gaze on Rhys. 'He will.' She smiled, cutting an eerie figure in the moonlight.

The swift prayer that Rhys Caxton, the first-mate of The Opal, whispered was left unfinished as the Quartermaster punched him unconscious with a swift right hook.