The Crimper

The cool air outside the Dreadful was a welcome change for Noah.

He had enjoyed a few drinks with the quiet, reserved Captain Amaruq and her fist mate Hannah The Red. They had discussed the region and Noah had been glad to hear more about the trade down the Radisson River. Virtually no one lived in what they called the Empty Lands, except for a few small coastal towns, of which Anglet was the largest due to the trade to the landlocked Great Lake plateau.

It had all been quite interesting, and useful to Noah to understand the nature of the job he had signed on to do, but he had to admit that his plans had only stretched as far south as the Empty City. The captain clearly had not understood or even totally believed his story that he was a scholar wanting to do research in the ruined city of stone, but she had simply nodded her serious nod and accepted what he said, which was all that really mattered.

A sudden burst of lusty laughter from the bar brought Noah out of his reverie. The town of Anglet stretched both south down the eastern bank of the Radisson River and the North Sea. Noah had booked a private room in one of the nicer hostels near the trade company buildings and what passed for a local government in this free port.

Walking down the main thoroughfare he wondered if he would ever get used to the strange looks he was getting. A sizeable majority of the people he saw were women, and many of the few men were very old. One drunk woman on the other side of the street yelled a number at him and grabbed at her crotch while her mates laughed, but Noah just kept on walking. It was tough to be overly upset or alarmed considering the drunk woman barely came up to his shoulder, although she looked fit enough she clearly wasn’t expecting a real reaction to her shouted offer.

On his left a series of warehouses stretched close to the sea-side jetties, and he made a note of the sturdy old fort-like building that housed the port authority. He would want to stop there tomorrow to see if he could check out some sailing manifests, but he had no idea if that was allowed.

The lanterns were bright on this main road, and Noah ambled down the wooden sidewalk wondering if there was a place to eat. It was late evening now, and he wished he had gotten a meal at the Dreadful with the women of the Nawyet.

“Ahoy, man,” a woman was leaning against the clapboard of the hostel next to the small alley that led behind the building, rolling a long cigarette as she watched Noah approaching, “you looking around for something in particular?”

She had a casualness about her, her question seemingly curiosity more than anything. She was dressed in a boiled leather coat, with brightly coloured trousers and a shock of purple and blue hair. Noah had seen enough women with brightly dyed hair to wonder if it was a cultural thing rather than just an aesthetic choice.

As she looked at her hands, placing the cigarette into a long holder and pinching it at the tip, Noah stopped with a happy smile, “I was I guess, just wondering if there was anywhere to get something to eat late. I know the hostel doesn’t serve any food, the woman who checked me in made that very clear.”

The woman with the purple and blue hair grinned back. She was a handsome woman, perhaps ten years older than Noah, her teeth white and straight and Noah felt sure he had seen her before. “Aye, I’m sure she did. There are some bars that have good food, but you just came from there. Around here, the inn down the road will serve you whatever they have left in the pot, I’m sure.” As she finished, she lit the end of her cigarette, letting it flare and then blowing it out. The smoke drifted to Noah, a pleasantly spicy smell.

“I just came from there… oh!” Noah said, his eyes widening, “That’s where I saw you, at the Dreadful, you were…” he trailed off, suddenly more cautious. She had been the one who had dragged the woman with the broken arm and smashed teeth out of the bar when he had arrived.

The woman nodded, blowing a small puff of smoke out with an annoyed grunt, “Yes you saw me fighting with Gretchen. We had a business deal turn sour and she felt I owed her so I had to leave her with her friends. I’m sure she’ll sober up and either pretend it never happened or tell her gang that she was jumped by a dozen pirates.”

“Oh, ok,” Noah was just happy that no one had in fact died. He felt a tiredness coming over him, and he wondered if he should skip a late dinner and instead hit the narrow bunk he had rented.

“And what is your name?” The woman said as she noticed Noah looking toward the hostel door, “I’m called Kestrel, I run some businesses here. Make introductions, help people find what they need. Like, say, a good meal. I’m sure I can find a place that will serve.”

“Ah my name is Noah,” he said distractedly. He was about to decline her offer when the heavy clumping of booted footfalls caught his attention. Coming down the sidewalk a pair of people, a woman and a badly scarred man, were in a murmured conversation. Noah, standing in the middle of the sidewalk went to move onto the street but the man, engrossed in what his companion was saying, moved to his side which would have him bump into Noah again.

Instead, Noah stepped closer to the where Kestrel stood next to the hostel, getting another face full of acrid smoke in his face. “I’m sorry no, I - uh,” Noah trailed off, his eyes fluttering. The woman Kestrel reached out and gave him a small tug, pulling him into the space between the alley, her gaze sharp.

“Wait,” Noah coughed as she blew on the tip of the cigarette, blowing the smoke in his face. His vision swam and he moved to push the woman out of his way but his arms felt heavy and slow. He staggered, taking another step into the shadows between the building.

The man and woman stood on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street. The woman gave a sharp nod, seeing no one else paying them any particular attention. The man came up behind Noah, who was trying to move past Kestrel.

“Hey, what are you doing,” he said, his clouded mind finally becoming alarmed. Kestrel felt a sudden flicker of concern as the handsome young man’s eyes flashed, and she slid into a defensive crouch expecting him to go for a blade.

But no, he just stood there, his eyes focused but nothing happening. “What the fuck?” he said, as if he had been expecting something. Now the scarred man was behind him, the weighted burlap sack slipped over Noah’s head and he smelled something gaggingly sweet. Then the darkness in the mask settled over him and took him away.

Nearing the midnight bell a surly donkey pulled a small cart to an empty section of the docks. A pair of women waited impatiently for Kestrel to hop off the cart. “Evening to ya Captain Behgga,” she said with a half sarcastic bow to the older woman, a powerfully built southerner with her long brown hair pulled back into severe rows. “And nice to see you on shore Nixie,” she nodded to the second mate, a cute shorter woman with a deceptively pleasant smile and bouncing shoulder length curls.

“This better be worth it Kestrel,” Behgga growled. “You still owe me for the last shipment of cloud, the buyers complained the quality was for shit. Couldn’t get a child high.”

“I don’t grow the plants, I don’t harvest the seeds, and I sure as fuck don’t grind the product any more than you do,” Kestrel said, her smile growing but with an edge to her voice. “So, if your buyers want to complain, they can paddle their arses up the river to talk to the mountain folk, I’m sure they will take the negative feedback to heart.”

Captain Behgga had to grunt what almost sounded like a laugh. “Whatever. The runner said you crimped a good one. Let’s see him.”

With a theatrical sweep of her arms, Kestrel moved to the tarp covering the cart and pulled it off with a flourish. “Not a good one, a fucking great one.”

The **** man was on his back, and Nixie gave a low whistle. “Who is he?”

“No one with any family or friends. Apparently, he contracted the Nawyet to take him up the river, but he fell into my arms outside the hostel. No one saw, but that Captain Amaruq might be an issue. She has an overdeveloped sense of honour I hear.” Kestrel couldn’t keep a certain smugness out of her voice. Having someone let her know the man was asking around was one thing, but Kestrel had thought to wait outside the better hostel in Anglet and had been rewarded for waiting rather than roaming the streets like a gang of brain dead thugs.

Behgga was staring at him, motionless, but Nixie shrugged and said, “How did you do it?”

Kestrel was feeling magnanimous, “I put some haze and cloud on a cigarillo and make sure I don’t breathe in. The smoke makes them groggy and trusting but it’s slow enough they don’t even notice it happening. Then my crew got him in a crimpers hood and tucked out of sight and here we are.”

Letting out a long breath, Behgga put a hand on his face, then felt his chest and stomach. With a sudden almost urgent move, she grabbed his shirt and pulled it open, sending buttons flying, her eyes eating up his trim physique and smoothly muscled torso.

“Well, he ain’t going to need a shirt anyway, I guess,” Kestrel laughed. With a short gesture at Nixie, Behgga undid his belt and started tugging his pants off.

The second mate pulled out a bag of coin and tossed it to Kestrel who smiled again, “You’ll forgive me if I count it, of course.”

Nixie gave her a matching smile, a cheery thing that didn’t quite touch her eyes. “Of course, everyone knows Kestrel the Crimper don’t work on credit.”

“The crew will like him,” Begghe said, her voice low, “tough for a woman on a whaler to be too idle, bad for discipline and morale. A man will make the journey soft as silk.” Nixie rolled her eyes; certain the captain would not be looking at her.

Kestrel did not look up from her pile of coins as she efficiently worked them into small piles for counting. “Indeed Captain. Oh, and give my little sister a go with him, ney? A treat from me. Ossie is doing well, I trust?”

The captain had his pants off, and she gripped his cock softly. “Aye,” she grunted, not really listening. With one hand she held the soft cock, feeling it start to stiffen as the man mumbled something in his sleep. Behgge felt a deep pull inside her, a need she incorrectly assumed no one else saw. Her hand reached out and she felt his scrotum, the fleshy hardness of his balls inside the sack. Without even realizing she was doing it, her fist tightened, just enough that the man twitched even in his state as he body tried to recoil at the sudden pain.

The crimper finished her count and swept the coins back into the bag. “This is the price for any old stiff prick, no questions asked. But this man, in his condition? He has no people to look for him, no one knows he’s even gone, and he’s the sweetest bit of meat any ship is likely to see on these seas. You treat him right, keep him out of sight, he could be working your ship for years. That’s more than a few hundred mermaids I’d say.”

The captain didn’t pause, pulling another bag from inside her jacket and tossing it over. “Nixie, help me get him to the tender. We’ll bring the boy to his new home right now.”