Chapter Seven

“Well 'ere we are the Warf, right, home ter moi… and o'course the slavers.” Quinn announced with a flashy and exaggerated gesture his short blond hair outshining the otherwise dull and drab docks.

There were many reasons why Alex didn’t want to be here, one was the ungodly smell of rotten fish and tinge of salt within air. The smell if not enough to make you leave then there was the safety issue. It was a death- trap. (Rotten walkways that shook and creaked in protest.) Because of rough currents or your own weight. Only three large vessels were in sight. The nearest two were military galleons, as told by the fine craftsmanship and the excellent stream line design in them. The one furthest down the walkway was vaster than the rest, similar design, not to be mistaken for military vessels.

The slave ships though similar, shared small differences, size the slave ships were more bulky and could carry it was said over two thousand in cramp conditions could fit in. Loka’saw was full of slave labour always from Ranna.

The ships, seen from the horizon would look like military ships, no one would panic. Until the slavers were already close to the beach’s by then it be too late. Large brutish men without a grain of compassion break up families, looking for fit strong young men or beautiful woman. Of course they took almost everyone wouldn’t matter if there was overcrowding in the hold, if some died then so be it. The most beautiful of the women were taken to officer cabin—treated kindly and being respected. This was all just a façade, by time they arrived back at main port the girls would be lifeless -- After being raped to death.

The girls who hadn’t been so beautiful (once on land they were thrown into the streets unconscious). They were to become prostitutes, they were foreign, and filth and that is where they belonged with the refuse of everyone lives. This kept the prostitutes ample and the rich blood pure.

Alex looked around the Wharf seeing nothing of promise, nothing that seemed homely.

“I know it seems, the bleedin' worse place ever…” Quinn declared, “But… no geezer comes ere, bar me, do wot guvnor! They’re all afraid of the chuffin' slavers And, ya’ll forget the smell after a wile."

Alex stopped staring around and swung round, “What… how you know I was thinking that?”

Quinn smiled slowly turning into a grin, “Yor facial expression of great distaste made it obvious, silly. Any road I’m no psychic, be cool fough eh?”

Alex felt dizzy, how had Quinn done that? How had he made my question go right back at me? Alex sighed and decided for lack of better idea he’d figure out Quinn and maybe why he was helping him, “Yeah sure would be cool.”

Quinn gestured for him to follow. Alex noticed that while he was use to dangerous feats, Quinn walked on each board differently; sometimes just have the toes on other his whole foot apart from heel. Then they came to a wall that was half the size of the other warehouses. Quinn skillfully clambered up then climbed down the other side within ten minutes.

Alex watched as Quinn clambered over then his head disappearing from view as he climbed back down. Alex quickly found some footholds and scaled the wall. He arrived at the top and preformed a backward flip—landing on his feet and automatically bowing. Quinn smiled and clapped.

“Bravo Alex, yer should charge blokes ter see ya!”

Alex did a double take, “Huh… did you say charge?”

Quinn said nothing and begun to scale the warehouse quickly making it too roof, Alex followed and saw Quinn looking at him intently. Alex shivered and looked away and remembered Tea, oh how could he forget that body, her concentration as she washed. He needed to forget her she was dead.

Quinn spoke his blond fringe shielding his eyes, Yer may say it were wrong me snoggin' Marius wile yer were there but I can fink of worse Alexzander, right, say *Family Relations*.”

Alex did another double take, “Wha…?”

“Dahn 'ere Alex…” interrupted Quinn pointing to a small-man-sized- hole within the roof.

Alex quickly jumped down expecting a soft landing, he mistaken. The floor broke his fall; he bit his tongue trying not to scream. Quinn shouted from a platform

“I forgot ter say, right, yer needed ter jump a certain way!”

Alex grumbled and looked at the already blood soaked trousers; he pulled his trouser leg up wincing as the wound came into view. He tried to not cry out. Alex ripped his right trouser legs and wrapped it round the wound cringing as the material touched the wound. Quinn appeared beside him muttering a load of apologies. He helped Alex up continuing his apologies.

“Sorry bout that, right, I should of warned ya, right, any road no far ter go now!”

Alex stood up and followed muttered sarcastically “There’s no more suicidal stunts, is their?

Quinn shrugged and smiled mysteriously, “Slightly ironic that ya Alex don’t want anymore suicidal feats!”

Alex sighed and followed Quinn without another word looking around as they passed each structure, nothing about this Wharf was bright; it was like all the bright colours, had been washed away with the water long ago. Even the people (apart from Quinn) were all dull. They were all mostly slavers, and each time Quinn pulled him into a nearby alcove begging for silence. The slavers were normal men, nothing very unusual about them. Sure, they had no morals, but nothing about them seemed inhuman, thought Alex.

Quinn turned round and whispered, “Sure they 'ave a look 'uman, but the souls of these men 'ave long vanished…” He continued, “I once seen ffem rape a girl 'oo struggled and assaulted one of them, she 'ad all 'er kit ripped off and were fucked by about ten of them at once, till she 'er screams died and she were drippin' blood.”

Alex saw Quinn eyes filled with tears, no smile nor cheeky grin. He went to comfort him, but Quinn pushed him away, “I could of done sumfink, right, instead I wotched 'oole spectacle unfoldin' Alex.”

Alex couldn’t understand Quinn, he was either very disturbed or…

Quinn interrupted his flow of thought by announcing, “Alex, we’re ere, right, welcome ter warehouse firty eight yor new 'ome, luvly views of the warf, and one of the warmest buildin' ere abouts.”

Alex nodded and opened his mouth, but Quinn continued, “It’s not the Mae West place ter live I admit, but better than a caravan right?”

Alex shivered and went to explore about the warehouse, finding several books lying about and a comfortable lounge chair, with a small table and what appeared to be a bed made out of various blankets and a backpack as the pillow. Quinn shouted from another side, “Alex, if yer want ter tidy that wound then go ter left 'and side yer’ll spot a basin… God knows why they stick it in a warehouse! Right!”

Alex found the basin as Quinn had promised and undid the knot of the makeshift bandage. He was surprised to find hot water pouring out the tap as he turned it on. He decided he’d clean it. Finding a cloth, Alex cleaned the wound ever so slightly wincing.

He turned round to see Quinn smiling, “Again, sorry! Sure don’t want me ter get ya sumfink?”

Alex answered, grimacing as he rubbed his leg, “Sure, got any alcohol? I don't wanna be feeling this.”

Quinn smiled and replied, “Yer’re lucky, I do!”

He went away and Alex continued to clean the wound biting his tongue because it stung. Quinn returned holding a bottle of fine wine. Alex rolled his eyes and Quinn laughed, “Heck, they’d wereted this on themselves, so nicked it.”

He then added, “Sure yer don’t want ter drink this?” He took a swig and offered it too Alex.

Alex shook his head and accepted the bottle slowly pouring some on his cloth and rubbing his wound. His eyes filled with tears as the alcohol worked. Quinn came over and looked at him.

“Alex, right, drink some! Yer’re in tears kid.” Alex shook his head and carried on weeping. Quinn looked at him again. “A keen man once said, kids dream of runnin' oray ter circus, but 'e knew that they were fools.”

Alex dropped the cloth in surprise, “What you say?”

Quinn smiled and picked up the cloth, “Nuffink Alex, now let me cop a fresh bandage for ya!”

Alex was perplexed, what was it with Quinn? First, he confused him, and then he suddenly helped him. It made no sense. How did he manage to get into his mind, not literally of course? Although it was like that… When he stared, it was like his inner most thoughts were being accessed.

Of course he was probably just paranoid, the world of magic belonged in fairy tales and myths. It had to be Quinn was just good at reading people facial expressions or could guess where a person was from, from the way he looked. He was still thinking about this when Quinn came back. He had resolved by then, that Quinn was just a good guesser.

Quinn handed him the bandage and offered to help, “Want me ter help?”

Alex shook his head and drew up his trouser leg again, wrapping the bandage round several times. Quinn shrugged as if he thought he could do better, then yawned, “’Ey I’m gonna cop some sleep Alex, If ya need anyfink shout and should wake up.”

Alex looked at him oddly, “Why can’t I just come to wake you up myself?

Quinn looked troubled for a bit, then a grin slowly appeared, “We all deserve privacy right…, isit?…I’m just used ter bein' on me own…”

Alex was thinking of asking his next question—“Why would you need privacy?”, but Quinn had began to walk away, shouting, “Night!”

Alex sighed in defeat, and considered asking Quinn about it tomorrow, but no doubt he’d forget… no doubt.