Isabelle went on, “We, like you, wish to be quit of this skyland. We can get you to your ship and slip the harbor without being shot from the sky. In return all we ask is to be delivered to a neutral port, at which point you would be free to go and take your ship with you.”

Similce’s eyes narrowed. “So what you are saying is you need me more than I need you. If my crew are prisoners of war, the tyrant will claim us, and I need give you nothing.”

Isabelle’s irritation rose at this petty bluff. Everything about the brig and its crew suggested they were outcasts and unlikely to be aided. Even so, having staked out that position, Similce was likely to stick to it. Best for Isabelle to go around.

Isabelle said, “Perhaps you are right. Maybe you think Hasdrubal will bring you home in triumph, but even if the tyrant ransoms you, that still means you lose your ship. It also means you choose to sit in this hole and leave your men in cages for months on end when you had the chance to set them free. Now, will you accept my bargain or not?”

From outside the alarm bell sounded. She’d been missed.

“Time’s up,” Bitterlich said.

Similce scowled, but shifted. “To a neutral port of my choosing.”

“To a neutral port upon which we can both agree,” Isabelle said, and extended her taloned hand, palm out and open in the Skaladin way of closing a deal. “Offered in truth.”

The line of Similce’s mouth nearly buckled under some internal pressure. “The soulless cannot make contracts.”

“Isabelle,” Bitterlich said. “We need to go.”

Isabelle said, “Oh, the soulless make contracts all the time. I’ve traded … merchandise all along the Forbidden Coast, in Hetchiva and Bu’el, and a hundred ports without names.” Indeed, Forenzio-Isabelle knew of several ports where she could get a good price for Similce and her crew.

No, curse you. Isabelle thwarted Forenzio’s impulse and went on, “My kind make contracts with your kind, it’s just that the magistrates won’t recognize our claims in court, if we were ever fool enough to take such claims before the law. Now I am done arguing. Are you?”

Similce made a face as if she were being asked to eat a dung worm still dripping from the cesspit, but held up her palm and said, “Accepted in trust.”

“Let’s move!” Bitterlich whispered.

Isabelle touched her fingers to her forehead and Similce mimicked the gesture. Bending Similce to her will once would make her more tractable later on.