Zena, a fleet captain about to encounter pirates.

The setting sun is huge and red against the mountains to the east and the stars are coming out as you take one last look over the anchored fleet. Above, the moon is a brilliant silver half-circle, still a good week from the fullness that brings fertility. The night air is cool, but not chilly. You're only a few days north from the Amazon Isles, and it's late spring by now.

At least a score of lumbering merchant ships bob at anchor, stuffed with casks of salted fish and Doramin ironwork and Amazon red dyes and you don't even know what all else. At the edges of the flotilla float your trireme and two others, longer and sleeker than the merchant ships, like sharks among a school of tuna. They are here to escort the trade convoy, supplementing the guards embarked on the trade ships themselves. The flotilla is on its way to the Minervan city of Kymolo, a couple of days further north along the Minervan Peninsula. Unfortunately, the Minervan city-states lack any kind of centralized government, the peninsula is dotted with little bays and coves like the one you are anchored in, and the Minervans have a naval tradition second only to that of the Isles. Pirates are a serious threat in these waters.

The silver half-light of the moon glints off your armor. Your build is slim, with wiry muscles, little fat, and smallish breasts, and you have the black skin, dark eyes, and curly hair of your birth-mother, a girl of the Achu tribes who was transformed by one of Ama’s priestesses. Like most Amazon marines, you are wearing studded leather armor rather than a bronze or iron breastplate, though your helmet is iron. You wear a shortsword of Doramin make, straight, double-edged, and cruciform, but your primary weapon is the bow slung over your back. Amazons have long prized archery, whether because Ama is said to favor the bow in myths or because the Isles are a naval power and archery becomes so much more effective in naval battles.

You shake your head slightly at the cry of a gull from somewhere nearby. You really shouldn't be up here. The watches are set, the ships anchored, and it is time you were going below for the night.

Suiting action to thought, you make your way down the stairs, passing through the main room lined with your women in their hammocks. You pause by the door of your cabin (being the captain comes with its perks) to light a lamp from the lantern that hangs on the wall, then step into your cabin.