Ridicule Glenda's childishness

"Glenda, you are being naive. The men on this ship, Duullem included, have been to every port from Jarnswood to the sands of Iano. They've bedded down dozens of women each. What do you think someone like Duullem sees in someone like you?" Before she can answer, you continue. "Another warm port for his sins. This one with a lovely, sweet smile and those pretty pointed ears. It's time you grow up and face your duty as a sister of the Burning Rose."

Tears well in Glenda's eyes.

"You're wrong about him! You're wrong about all of them! You're so focused on your quest that your heart has hardened. Is that what the War Mother would have wanted?"

"Don't you invoke her name!" you shout, wanting to slap the green from Glenda's hair. "Do not try to hide behind our fallen sisters or guilt me just so you can justify bending over for the first cock you take a fancy to."

"Mind your tongue!" she screams at you. "Mind it, or I'll tear it out, sister!"

"I'd like to see you try," you shout back.

The door to the cabin bangs open and Captain Rakins and Duullem rush in. The captain pushes you away from Glenda and Duullem sees that she is okay and then protects her with his body.

"Sister," says the captain. "Lower your sword. Please."

In your fury, you had not even realized you were holding the sword of St. Magdalena in your fist. Would you really have struck Glenda with the weapon? You feel shocked and saddened at your own reaction. You lower the blade and step back, allowing yourself to be escorted out onto the deck. You cast one last look back over your shoulder at Glenda. The slender elf seems so small in Duullem's arms. She buries her face in his chest and he hugs her tightly.

"I am guessing this is because your companion will be staying with us," says Captain Rakins. "I apologize for that, truly, but it is the way it must be, sister. She made her choice and--"

"I know," you snap.

"Very well." Rakins walks you to the prow of the ship and you look out with him into the harbor of Gerlangen. "At least we have arrived at our destination."

The harbor and docks of the great city are populated by huge merchant ships from far and wide, flying flags of nations you do not even recognize. Smaller fishing boats moor together to form a bobbing marketplace of fresh fish, seaweed, crab, and salt turtles. Morning's light is just lifting into the sky and it colors the walls and hills of the city a radiant gold. The orange clay of the many roofs forms a confusing maze of detail rising towards the great abbey and the castle that sit atop the heights. Chimney smoke and climbing vines give the sight a pastoral quality that might have escaped you if you had looked only at the bustling docks.

"It is beautiful," you admit.

"Do not get lost in that city," warns Rakins. "Many do. There are many ways to lose yourself."

"I will be going straight to the abbey," you assure him, "and then on to whatever task I am given by the High Mother."

"Of course, I wish you all the best, Sabine. May we meet again in better times." He embraces you and you find yourself struck by the moment, hugging tight against him as the ship pulls into the docks and is moored. You depart with a small satchel of clothing, including a long naval coat, a gift from Rakins, that gives you a bit more modesty than Lahana's gowns.

The fishermen and dockworkers glance at you as you pass them by, heading through the seedy bars and shops of the waterfront and up the gentle slopes into the city. The cobbled streets wind into alleyways and between three and four story blocks of tenements. Beyond the docks, the streets are still quiet in the early morning. Just a few shopkeepers and urchins about. You turn into an alleyway and you smell a familiar hint of brimstone.

"Can't get rid of me as easy as the elf, Fire Hair," says the imp, flapping just out of reach. "Why'd she leave? Get addicted to sailor cocks?"

You don't look at the imp. You don't let him see how angry his words make you. He flaps around in front of your face, wagging his disgusting cock at you.

"Come on, sweetie, I know you missed me. Come and give it a kiss."

You're about to draw your sword and remind the imp that he is a daemon and you are a daemon-killer, when you notice someone else moving in the shadows behind you. They're following you! You shoo the imp away and it takes off over the rooftops. You move faster, trying to stay ahead of whoever is on your heels. You take turns through two more alleys and they're still behind you. A third turn and you are up against a dead end.

You whirl around as the figure steps out of the shadows, blocking your exit from the alley. They are wearing a cloak of heavy velvet. They pull back the hood and reveal dark hair, pale skin and pale blue eyes. The woman is beautiful, young, and familiar. A smile quirks one side of her lips.

Ivona! It's Ivona!

"Hello, Sabine," she says. "I'm glad you made it out."