"Whatever the case may be, we're better off with them." Gregor says quietly. 

[hr]

"I'm more worried about the stock we're not getting back." Said a young women with short black hair coming up behind them. She wore a short brown vest over a low cut white shirt, showing off a patchwork of old scars over tense and wiry muscle. Her nose had obviously been been broken at some point, one of her ears had a chunk missing from it, and her weapon jangled as she walked. It was a long iron chain laid in coils across her back, the ends swinging like pendulums within grabbing distance. Attached to one was a large iron ball. Attached to the other was an even large, viciously curved hook. Pairs of shackles hanging from her pants leg matched the rhythm of the chain.

Dockside Dinah, professional kidnapper, scowled a crooked scowl at the jungle. "The only thing the Ghurkon hate more than foreigners is oathbreakers, and we'll be both if we show up with even one less wretch than we set out with. Then there's the chain."

She thought back to the hole in the ship, the chain snapped off from the rest in the middle of the line. Each manacle torn apart individually except the last, which was just gone. "I inspected those chains myself fore we set out. Storm wouldn't have broken 'em like that. They'd a' torn out a' the wall before breaking like that. One a' these four's more trouble then they're worth."