Salazar~
Johanell o’Cree
Boca Caiman, Talluan Gulf
Johanell climbed the rickety ladder up to the attic. The hovel was not worth the few coppers the landlord dared gouge him for rent, but it was a sufficient distance from town. No one heard the screams.
In the stale darkness, a rattling wheeze followed a muffled cough. The captain had lived through another afternoon of Boca Caiman heat.
The low-pitched roof hunched Johanell’s back until he reached the empty chair across from his blindfolded and bound guest. Moonlight poked through cracked roof tiles to highlight the man’s dark bruises and parched, swollen lips. Johanell curled his nose at the stench of sweat and decided the rattling in the man’s chest was worsening. A broken rib must have punctured a lung.
He would have to hurry this
