With a few days’ training, Sabit had thoroughly familiarized herself with the workings of the Vertan forum of justice. While the central forum itself was strictly reserved for trials, the mammoth building housed two smaller courtyards for training. Nearly every type of weapon used throughout the world was on offer, and practiced by one of the several dozen champions or other.
Skilled costumers outfitted Sabit with leather armor designed more to impress onlookers than to protect the wearer. Her possessions from the ship were brought. A weaponsmith who had learned his craft in far-off city of Bahteel crafted a new shaft of ironwood for Sabit’s well-traveled spearpoint.
More importantly, Sabit spoke with her ship’s crew. The sailors were being held in two different outbuildings, along with a number of other hostages of the forum’s champions. Their captors kept them fed and clothed, and forced them to labor in the rebuilding of the crumbling city, brick by brick. Melcior, the captain, had been taken to the Magistrate in person and none of the crew had seen him since. All of them wore heavy cuffs of metal at ankle, wrist, and throat. Escape would be no easy matter.
There was no word of Allamu.
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Wayfarings of Sabit: Isle of the Wicked is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/