Emmaline resisted the urge to explain that she wasn't a lady. Her father had been a tanner and her mother a seamstress, both of whom had been very upset when the girl they had been hoping would marry well enough to lift them out of poverty had instead been plucked by fate and the witchfinders to attend the Colleges of Magic. The captain's, Markus judging by comments she had overheard, misapprehensions about her might help to keep her alive, at least long enough for her to escape. There was a general murmur of approval at the notion of her dining with the crew and for a moment she wondered if choosing the brig might not be the safest choice. Well as any con artist knew, the safest choice now and the safest choice later weren't always the same thing. If she was going to escape she needed to put this Markus at ease, something she wouldn't be able to do from the brig.

There was a whoop of delight as a pair of pirates came onto the deck with Emmaline's traveling case. They opened it by the simple expedient of smashing the latch with the hilt of a cutlass and the case sprang open to reveal several dresses and a selection of underwear. Half a dozen of the crew descended like seagulls each eager to snatch a souvenir. It was fortunate for her that the seemed to have mistaken the simple alchemical kit in a second case as belonging to the scholar. She had talked briefly with Klaus Metternick, a penniless exile trading on his education and hoped that if the matter was raised he would be wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

Emmaline stood up, rubbing her wrists together to restore the circulation that had been cut off by the bindings.

"I would be pleased to dine with you captain," she said ignoring the lewd shouts and cheers of the crew at the announcement. Ranald's balls, how did she ever manage to get herself into these situations!