The sagging, bow-legged prostitute had both feet on the narrow gangway before either man on deck woke up enough to notice her. Shadows stretched, but the sun was still three hands above the western buildings.
The young man on the left, head and face shaved clean, grimy and filmed with sweat, stood and glowered at the woman as she made her way up the thin plank of wood. The man on the right, with black hair and thick, wiry beard, remained seated, but he c****d a crossbow resting on his lap, and he leaned back with it, resting it against his shoulder.
“Ya’ squids call up a w***e?” She croaked at them, laughing, but stopped a dozen hands from the top of the plank when the bald man didn’t look amused.
He eyed her up and down, face twisted in disgust. “No. No one here called you, hag. Go bac
