imp had brought me to, sitting on the same bed, stark naked. I looked at the big guy, who showed no animosity for our previous fight, feeling awkward at how close we were in the cramped space. He nodded to the bundle of clothes, then to me, as if for me to get dressed.
“For me, huh?” I said and he seemed to understand, nodding again.
Rolling over, I rummaged through the bundle, which stank of mold and must and looked overall like it had been kept deep in a wet hold for far too long. I spotted a pair of boots that might possibly fit my huge feet, and brown leggings that I threw on. All the while, the big guy stood there, watching me with that expressionless skull-face of his. I think he was going for non-threatening, but it was impossible to carry out practically, with how small the room was.
“You gonna just sit there and watch?” I said, but he just pursed the sliver of skin above his eyes, confused. It was a miracle I could move at all in the small space.
He replied in a language that was surprisingly elegant and florid.
“I didn’t get any of that,” I said, finding a long-sleeved white shirt that must have once been white or cream, but now was a slew of shades, ranging from gray to ocher. Atop that, I slung a leather vest and a brown, moth-eaten trench coat that was perfect for my wide shoulders.
“There,” I announced with a flourish. “All I need now is a feathered hat and a cutlass.”
We may have been two creatures from separate parts of the universe, as different as night and day, yet my laughter made him chuckle, a high pitched, whiny sucking of air that escaped as he clutched his chest in a full-bellied guffaw. He pounded my shoulder in approval with his strong arm. He hit me on the same shoulder his mace had struck me not just a few hours ago, yet there was no pain in the joint, no memory of the shattering blow. My arm was as good as new, and that was strange. Perhaps the same qualities that had given me powers were at work. In my previous visit to Shard World, I had felt an expansion of my powers. Part of this was natural, from hitting new plateaus as I explored my limits, but I could also feel some force at work making me stronger, faster, and tougher.
The skull-faced alien took my arm and motioned for me to follow, breaking my train of thought. He led me through the berthing deck, now more populated with crewmen and women of all sorts of species. Most slept on canvas hammocks, swaying with the slow, rocking motion of the ship. Others gathered around a central stove, keeping warm in the chilly below-decks air, wrapped in blankets and speaking in hushed tones as my companion and I walked past, keeping their curious gazes on me.
“You got a name, big guy?” I asked Skullface as we moved to the stairs leading to the gun deck. He stopped and looked at me, shaking his head.
Pointing at myself, I said “Blackjack,” then touched his chest and shrugged.
He understood and pounded his chest. “Zann,” he announced, then said something to the group that watched us, eliciting a round of laughter, no doubt at my expense. As the laughter died down, he looked at me, nodded in approval, and continued moving. We rounded up the stairs, passing the relatively unoccupied gun deck where only a few crew worked with the carpenter to repair a damaged wheel lock for one of the massive guns. A few acknowledged me as I walked past, but they quickly went back to their work.
Coming to the main deck was like walking out of a dark pub in the middle of a bright, sunny day, a stark contrast of illumination from the dimly lit below decks. Zann seemed unaffected and shooed me forward when I paused to let my eyes adjust to the light.
Only a few crewmembers were above deck. Earlier, the main and quarter decks were jammed with crew, ready for action; now just a few were scrubbing the deck or coiling rope; another two or three were above in the rigging, tending to sails. Waiting for me on the quarterdeck were the Captain, the gold-skinned fellow, and an insectoid crewman having replaced the octopus-thing at the wheel. As we came up the stairs, the golden man’s stare never once