Sloughing off an uneasy sleep, achieved only with the assistance of a good measure of unwatered wine, Masina shoved an oar aside as she climbed up out of the belly of a low vessel.<br/><br/>Cursing under her breath she tripped over another discarded oar then whacked her head on a thick, rotting beam.<br/><br/>Kumyurt's docks would've needed some work soon. That was a fortunate thing, or she might have knocked herself out walking into the blasted thing.<em>Someone might have warned her!</em>Plump ruby-pink lips pulled into the tight line of a grimace as she rubbed where here head had thumped off the dark wood.<br/><br/><strong>"Ouch."</strong><br/><br/>It was almost a whine. Her head pounded from the drink of the night, not the whacking of the morning.<em>Afternoon?</em><br/><br/>Masina peered out over the water to judge the fall of shadows. Noon or so. They'd be about ready for her now, she hoped. She didn't like to wait around. Especially not in the same area as Az and his band of wild dogs.<br/><br/>Packs with pirates, deals with the Harvest, truces with Roman's; What was it all coming to? When she was a child, she could rely on one thing always - and one thing only. It was the way of her tribe – the Daughters of Fire. They had each other, trusted each other, and not another soul. That was the way of Masina's world then. The way of The Daughters until recently, when the warring came too close, the bandits too plentiful, pirates too powerful, Roman's too many. Then, deals had to be made - alliances, bargains. Masina didn't like it. None of them did, but it was the new way.<br/><br/>Of them all, she loathed Azuriel and his bandits most. She thought him a fool's fool. When he first arrived on the scene with a scarce few followers, she'd wanted to drive him off - or snap him in half. She'd been told then to wait. The Chieftess thought he might prove useful. Masina spat then. She spat now.<br/><br/>It turned out, that if he was a fool, he was a fool with unreasonable success. He'd gathered together the biggest band of the lowest losers,  and then made them think they were something special by virtue of his attention alone, she guessed. Then he trained them into formidable warriors with new found confidence. And he'd aligned with The Reaver. Once he had, Masina's opportunity to end Azuriel, ended.<br/><br/>Her tribe had crossed Reaver once. It had cost them one of their best. And more. Now they worked with Reaver and his Scarlet Harvest when they had to and tried to forget him otherwise. Not that anyone that ever met him would forget, still they tried.<br/><br/>More than just another deal made, the allegiance with The Reaver was of blood now. He had one of theirs. They would do no harm to him while he did. There didn't seem to be much hope of getting her back anytime soon.<br/><br/>Blood dripping from between the planks splattered on Masina's cheek and brought her attention to what needed it now. Fool or not, Azuriel was good at what he did. It would seem from the sounds filtering down to her, raucous laughter, howls of pain, sorrowful singing, the shrieking of women, gagging, choking, burning, sobbing, that he'd done it here.  Masina heard, smelled, felt in the air; it was time to go. Azuriel had done his job. It was time for her to do hers.<br/><br/>The Reaver himself had given Masina instructions. Now she would have to find Azuriel and carry them out.<br/><br/>Damn, her head hurt. Masina plopped down on a crate of wine and pulled on her boots.<em> How'd they get over there?</em>She didn't remember taking them off. Why take your boots off on a ship? What had she been thinking?<br/><br/><strong>“Bloody Hell...”</strong><br/><br/>Masina's suddenly arched a perfectly formed red-gold brow and quickly checked her leathers fastenings.<br/><br/><strong>“Whew,”</strong>She exhaled and blew errant auburn waves from her eyes.<br/><br/>All laced and buckled.<em>Maybe she <em>should</em> start watering the wine.</em><br/><br/>Masina grumbled and pulled the laces of her boots tight before going about the business of locating and fastening her weapons to her body, a process that took far too long in the dark damp recesses under the docks of Kumyurt.<em>Why had she taken her weapons off?</em><br/><br/>Finally she was ready. She made her way to the docks edge, gripped and hauled herself up to the planks landing easily on her feet.<br/><br/>Masina sneered at the sun.<em>Did it have to shine so bright?</em><br/><br/>Kumyurt’s people were rivals, hated. The horror that met Masina’s eyes was tempered by that hatred. They’d tried to claim land that belonged to her tribe. They deserved whatever came to them. Even if what came was Azuriel and his bandits; even if what came was The Reaver.<br/><br/>Masina stalked up to a drunken man hunched over and heaving vomit all over his boots, wrapped her fingers in his hair, hauled his head up and asked him,<strong>“Where is he?”</strong><br/><br/>The man pointed a shaking finger at a pottery shop. Masina dropped his head and gave it a little shove, her gentle nudge, just for fun. She was already stepping toward the shop when she heard the thud of him hitting the ground and the sneer left her face, replaced with a crooked grin.<br/><br/>She was wearing that grin when she marched into the shop.<br/><br/>There sat Azuriel atop a giant eagle looking like King or Fool - King of the Fools, she thought.<br/><br/>Her grin turned to a smirk when she addressed him.<strong>“Where are mine?”</strong><br/><br/>