Calliope lifted the necklace in her right hand allowing the fine chain to play through her fingers. She could sense the arcane power of the thing though it was oddly passive for a magical artifact. During her time as Tyrant she had encountered various ensorcelled items but this seemed somehow different. A slight smile tugged at her full lip. She supposed it was too late to ask the captain what the trinket did, assuming he had ever known.

The crew had been fortunate that the raid had not ended in complete disaster. Calliope had recommended that Markus not ‘gut whoever fucked up’ by firing his weapon too early and he had reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t a decision made out of kindness and compassion, but rather a political judgement that it was more important the crew enjoyed its first victory than pay for its mistakes. They had been lucky that the outposts mage had died of a fever a few weeks ago. It wouldn’t have taken much to turn a rather mudded victory into a bloody defeat. 

“Thank you,” she said before slipping the chain around her neck. It had evidently been made for a man and was a little too long, the amulet sinking down almost between her bosoms. The amulet felt unexpectedly warm against her skin, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, rather like the heat of a roaring hearth but from well across the room. 

Markus was rolling out the sea chart on his table using bottles of rum to pin the corners down. An old brass compass twitched slowly with the roll of the ship as he paced out distances with a pair of dividers. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had done some shopping in Stormsreach. Markus sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he considered the voyage ahead. Crossing the sea of swords to the Westerlands and the Colonies was an arduous endeavor and they only had a few weeks at most before the trade winds shifted and made the task impossible. That same shift in wind would be what the treasure fleet would be putting into port to avoid, spending the next two or three months refitting before they risked the open seas when spring bought favorable winds once again. 

Callope watched the calculations with vague distaste. It irritated her that Markus could do something that she, with all her learning and culture, could not even if that was something as mundane as plotting a course.

“What do you plan to do with the prisoners?” Calliope asked after a few minutes. It seemed foolish to her to feed men that were not working, especially with a long voyage ahead. Did he plan to ransom them? If so to whom? She tried a mouthful of rum, it was rough and sticky with molasses reminding her of the blood spurting over her hands as she sliced into the neck of her victim. There was an odd frisson of almost sexual pleasure at the thought and for a moment she thought she felt the amulet at her breast pulse with energy.