"Listen up, you pirates!"

Captain Einar was glaring at them through the tiny hatch in the door; Vivi glared back at him, and to her satisfaction, he seemed to be even more frustrated than before.

"I hope you're enjoying your stay... while you still can," he growled. Another small hatch at the bottom of the door opened, and someone kicked a bowl full of what could at best be described as a food-like substance into the cell. "Take good care of it; it's all you'll be getting tonight."

Owen picked the bowl up, taking a curious glance at its contents. "Now, I don't mean any disrespect towards your kitchen staff," he said politely, "but could you take some constructive criticism on this?"

"I don't think so," the captain replied dryly. "And frankly, you have other things you ought to worry about. I may have given you my word that I would spare your lives—and I will, while you remain on my ship—but tomorrow we set sail towards Basvik, where you will be put on trial for piracy... and punished accordingly."

"Tomorrow?" Vivi wondered out loud. "Why the wait?"

"Yeah," Owen agreed, nodding gravely. "You trying to keep us in suspense?"

The captain sneered. "Hardly. I have more important things to do here in Nar Badhir... you were merely a distraction."

Vivi grunted. "Wow. I feel so important."

"We seem to have been quite a memorable distraction, though," Owen chuckled. "Since you took the time to come down and see us again."

"Not quite," the captain replied, giving Owen a sour look. "I came down here for your friend the assassin—I'd like to see if he's decided to be more cooperative than last time we spoke." He gave a quick command to the armed sailors who had accompanied him in a language Vivi assumed to be Eskiholti, and the door was momentarily flung open. Two guards stepped in and grabbed Sorodath roughly by the shoulders, while a third kept his pistol steadily pointed towards the rest of the brig's occupants.

"Looks like you're going on an adventure, O shadowy one," Owen said cheerfully as the assassin was pulled outside and the door once again slammed shut. "Can't wait to hear all about it!" As soon as the Eskiholti had gone out of sight, he sat down on the floor and continued inspecting the bowl of mystery soup. "Now... who's brave enough to find out whether this stuff is actually edible?"

"I really don't care," Myrin said, taking the bowl from him and putting it on the floor. "And quite frankly, neither should you. We have plenty of other things to worry about at the moment."

"Like, for example, the fact that we're about to be shipped off to the gallows," Vivi stressed. "So if we could start doing something about that, that'd be great."

Owen waved his hands dismissively. "Don't worry so much. We already have a plan." He paused, looking suddenly uncertain. "Right, Myrin?"

Myrin sighed in exasperation, looking up at the ceiling as if pleading with a higher power for strength—or possibly, mercy. "Right," he said slowly. "I don't want to shatter your dreams, Nerikas, but writing down 'we escape' on a page of your notebook is not 'a plan.'"

Owen looked incredibly offended at Myrin's words, but before he could reply, Vivi stood up and cut them both off. "Enough!" she shouted. "We don't have time for this!" She took a deep breath and, realizing that her shouting might attract unwanted attention, lowered her voice. "How are we gonna get out of the cell now that tall, dark, and scary has apparently been pardoned?"

"He'll be back," Myrin said confidently. "A master assassin does not give up information so easily."

Vivi leaned back against the wall, muttering and cursing the assassin under her breath. "I hope you're right."