Calliope nodded grimly she reached forth and chucked John’s chin, forcing the soldier to meet her dark eyes. The soldier, a young man, though certainly older than Jim, had dirty brown hair and terrified eyes. Though he tried to put on a brave face it was clear that the grim fate of his companions had him terrified, which was a reasonable reaction. Calliope didn’t feel pity for him, he would have murdered and likely raped her with the others if he had a chance, but she wasn’t cruel without a purpose. There was something to this, an opportunity to be seized if she were brave and crafty enough. She looked up at Jim who stood looking scared and uncomfortable. The young man was clearly scared both from the fighting and from Markus’ mutilation of the prisoner.

“Bring him,” she snapped, gesturing imperiously at the lad. Jim hesitated a moment longer but grabbed one of John’s arms as Halvar grabbed the other. She led them back towards her quarters, John looked around as he realised where they were taking him, his eyes searching imploringly for any aid but the crew either refused to meet his eyes or, in Sron’s case, looked at him like a wasted snack.  

The interior of her chamber was still disheveled from the struggle, the floorboards were stained with blood that she would need to have one of the crew clean before too long. The body of the man Markus had killed had been put over the side without ceremony though his sword still lay, unbloodied on the floor.

“Tie him to the bed,” she ordered brusquely, pushing her hand against the spell locked chest, it sprung open and she drew out a spellbook at random.

“M..ma’am,” Jim asked uncertainly but Halvar had already shoved John onto the cot and seized a coil of rope that hung from one of the hooks in the corridor. At Calliope’s direction the bound the man face down on the bed, securing him at wrists and ankles to the posts of solid timber. John began to scream and beg but Calliope ignored him, taking out some herbs and spell components from her chest, crushing them up and setting them in a small brasier.

“Leave us,” she declared, “and close the door.” Jim hesitated as though hypnotized by what was going on but Halvar grabbed him by the arm and gave him an encouraging shove that propelled him from the room, Calliope closed the door and whispered a word, sending a spurt of fire into the brazier. Thick pungent smoke began to fill the room. Another whispered spell conjured up a blue light that pulsated rythmically. John continued to scream for help as Calliope took her dagger and carefully sliced his shirt off, leaving him bare chested. Her eyes were starting to water from the burning herbs but she was able to keep it under control. She climbed atop John sitting astride his buttocks and began to recite nonsense words in her sonoros voice.

Calliope was no stranger to public speaking and she could make herself heard when she wanted too, still the rest of the crew could only hear muffled chanting, smell an odd scent and see pulsating light oozing from beneath her door, as well as John’s screams. She kept chanting for perhaps five or ten minutes, allowing the words to build to a crescendo before finally whispering a final spell. It was another simple cantrip, merely summoning a little cold, she focused it into a ring she had taken from her chest and then pressed it into the base of John’s spine. The soldier screamed as though he were being gelded, but that was nerves rather than actual pain. The sudden cold must have felt like a burn as worked up as he was. She pulled his severed shirt into his mouth gagging him, drawing an abrupt silence over what had been chanting and energetic screaming. She lay down atop his back putting her lips closed to his ear.

“That is my mark,” she whispered, running a finger tip over the spot she had pressed the cold ring.

“I own your soul little man,” she purred, “disobey me, plot against me, and it will be my plaything before I grow tired and send it to the burning hells.” John quieted, whimpering into the gag, his body stiff with terror.

“And in case you are thinking of killing me, you best hope that I live a long and prosperous life, because if my soul crosses over before yours… well… lets not dwell on that shall we.” Her voice dripped with malicous humor.

“Do you understand me?” she whispered into his ear. John nodded, a quick panicked gesture. Calliope chuckled with rich amusement. 

“Then I don’t think these bonds will be necessary.” With quick strikes of her dagger she freed John from his restraints, leaving the man shivering and on the edge of tears.

“Go and join the crew,” she commanded, “but remember who you serve.” The soldier fled and Calliope sat down on the bunk with a grin. It was all theatre, as much for the benefit of the crew as to ensure John’s loyalty. She certainly didn’t know of any magic that could do what she had claimed and if it existed at all she didn't doubt it was far beyond her. Well If people were going to believe she were some sort of evil sorceress, she might as well turn it to her advantage. There were many paths to power afterall. She waited a sufficiently dramatic amount of time and then went onto the deck, a smile curving her dark lips.