When Yew came to, the first thing he noticed in the dark was the putrid smell. A sure indicator they were in the dungeons.
“Zingara, Ungula. Are you there?”
“I’m here. No sign of Ungula. My wrists and ankles are bound. How about you?”
“Seems that way and I’m hanging out from the wall by some steel torture apparatus, I suppose. Wish I could see something.”
As if fulfilling his desire, a sinewy man dressed in black leather with a red sash entered the room with a bright lantern.
“Morgan!” gasped Zingara.
“Morgan!? You mean Morgan the Impregnator?” said Yew facetiously, while blinking.
“Who’s he? What does he mean by that?” said Morgan winking at Yew Rue as if the two were secretly old pals.
“This is my husband-to-be, Yew Rue.”
“Funny rhymy name. You two to marry. Sad. I’ll be dispatching you both as soon as you tell me where the Phoenix dwells.”
“Wish we could but your wired door killed the only man who ever spoke with the legendary Phoenix. What’s your concern anyway?”
“Wired door? Not me,” he lied, “I’m just a mercenary for the dragoness lady. She wants to know how to live 500 years like the Phoenix. Less messy machine killings and blood sucking that way. Never mind that, you haven’t seen a large black dog? Mine seems to have run off again.”
They were silent about the black dog.
“Look, let us free. We’ll help you escape, too.”
“Not me. I’m goin’ into the next life with the old lady. I’ve secretly been planning to do her in for a long time. You know doll, if we alter your combat costume just a little, you’ll be more attractive and much more comfortable.”
Morgan flicked out a straight razor.
“Now don’t struggle. I hate it when people lose blood unnecessarily.”
Yew was having a hard time deciphering Morgan’s behavior. Very schizophrenic.
“Hey, Morgan while playing doctor with the fabric, maybe you could answer a question? Have you ever met this girl whose clothes you’re trimming?”
“I never forget a body especially one as nice as hers. Sorry. If I did, I was too drunk to remember. There. That’s better.”
Morgan had cut off both shirtsleeves and made shorts of the pant legs. Yew breathed a sigh of relief.
“Now you are dressed for the sea and the beach.”
“So you really are Morgan, the Sea Dweller,” said Zingara.
“One and the same, at your service.”
“Mr. Morgan, can you let us go or at least let us in on your plan to annihilate Lamia?” asked Zingara.
He thought for a while delighting in Zingara’s firm legs. She flinched when he slid his hand down her bare skin.
“OK. But probably, there’ll be no survivors. And don’t tell me, you can live with that! Ha! Tragic about your Father. He was a strong man.”
“There is one thing. Where is my sister?”
“The freak? I think the old lady’s holding her, just in case your now deceased father or you two should show up. A hostage shield shall we say.”
In minutes, they were free. Once again, Yew was suspicious. Everything was too easy.
Zingara’s pretended sham pregnancy was exposed as easily as her now bare arms and legs. But Yew knew it was true Morgan drank much too heavily, to Zingara’s good fortune. He was incapacitated by wine the night of Zingara’s chance meeting.