His
long lion’s chin seemed ludicrously pointed in the light of day and
his jewel-blue eyes turned inward a bit crazily. Zestes was short,
thickset, a blackguard if there ever were one, with an ever-present
leer and loose blue overalls that were bagged at the knees. He had
a nonexistent neck and wore iron-studded wristlets and green dragon
tattoos fleeing up his arms. Two large looping iron earrings
dangled heavily from either ear, suggestive of irascibility rather
than a preference for men. Valere was a tall, purposeful and
grey-eyed rogue. His beard hung a flaming red, bright as his hair
which complemented his sailor’s orange- and blue-striped dungarees.
A sun-browned face, and a scar breached his left cheek near the
corner of his lips and made his satirical but jesting face appear
fulsome. Lopze was a middle-weight thug and wore baggy mauve
pantaloons. His sneaky rat face was latched with an orange eye
patch and thin bartering lips and stubbly billy goat goatee.
Paltuik was more of a hulking brute, bull-necked and young who wore
greasy, crow-black hair clipped in short bunches and an indigo
kerchief wrapped tightly around his brow—a feature which enhanced
the overall bushy blackness of his threatening, down-curved brows.
Vibellhanz was owl-like and wiry; he owned a bowed back and no
visible teeth. His concept of hair was a collection of white wisps
trailing down the crook of his back. Tustok sported a purple nose
ring, a pair of sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, oily skin and the
thin haggard look of a gangly ruffian. Leamoine had an annoyingly
graceful manner, which his blue, immaculate trousers, grey cape and
right-ear bangle seemed to accentuate—not to mention the shaved
rounded chin, white face, delicate cheeks and placid grin.
Baus peered
away to turn his attention from the oddball assortment to matters
concerning survival. A sullen, oppressive atmosphere lurked about
the earthen yard and its depressing clumps of glum-shaped
spongebush and gorse shrub which peeked raggedly out of the corners
of the yard like grim dwarfs. The place was more a livestock yard
than a place for men. The mangy land was trampled by a thousand
feet—men who had worked for years toiling under duress. The
watchtower loomed forbiddingly above the walls with flanking
buttresses and a dull copper cupola. The drab sleeping quarters
pressed against the lichen-rich west wall and the officers’ hall
hunkered down under the tower’s shadow, but otherwise there were no
other outbuildings present, except what might be called the hive,
that dome-like sickly yellow construct hanging off the south
rampart.
The men stood
up to re-assess their new inmates. Baus felt a singular chill crawl
over his skin, what with the unpleasant grins, clucks and hoots
that came his way. Nuzbek was affected no less, but for some
perverse reason seemed to take exception to the attention given the
ridiculous black magic cap with which he still chose to crown his
head. He threw a deprecatory remark at the eye-winking Leamoine and
got himself into another unsalutary scuffle . . .
II
Baus and
Weavil’s adjustment to the daily duties in the yard proceeded
slowly. Certain activities granted rigor, which included
fish-cleaning, clam-shucking, stone-chipping, wood-chopping and
lugging stones to build the sea wall. Re-mortaring the gaol’s high
stone bulwark was also high on this list, which grew in disrepair
every year. Every third or fourth day, a new group of convicts was
summoned to apply blocks to the seawall. Heagram’s new construction
scheme, brainchild of Prefect Barth, included the plan to protect
the town’s heritage buildings by the old port from the killing
breakers that raged during the winter months. Four to five inmates
toiled away on the construction, hoisting stone upon stone,
packing, sealing the cracks, while Voin the general contractor,
watched on with critical attention. He monitored the work with a
vulpine ferocity, correcting every mistake
long lion’s chin seemed ludicrously pointed in the light of day and
his jewel-blue eyes turned inward a bit crazily. Zestes was short,
thickset, a blackguard if there ever were one, with an ever-present
leer and loose blue overalls that were bagged at the knees. He had
a nonexistent neck and wore iron-studded wristlets and green dragon
tattoos fleeing up his arms. Two large looping iron earrings
dangled heavily from either ear, suggestive of irascibility rather
than a preference for men. Valere was a tall, purposeful and
grey-eyed rogue. His beard hung a flaming red, bright as his hair
which complemented his sailor’s orange- and blue-striped dungarees.
A sun-browned face, and a scar breached his left cheek near the
corner of his lips and made his satirical but jesting face appear
fulsome. Lopze was a middle-weight thug and wore baggy mauve
pantaloons. His sneaky rat face was latched with an orange eye
patch and thin bartering lips and stubbly billy goat goatee.
Paltuik was more of a hulking brute, bull-necked and young who wore
greasy, crow-black hair clipped in short bunches and an indigo
kerchief wrapped tightly around his brow—a feature which enhanced
the overall bushy blackness of his threatening, down-curved brows.
Vibellhanz was owl-like and wiry; he owned a bowed back and no
visible teeth. His concept of hair was a collection of white wisps
trailing down the crook of his back. Tustok sported a purple nose
ring, a pair of sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, oily skin and the
thin haggard look of a gangly ruffian. Leamoine had an annoyingly
graceful manner, which his blue, immaculate trousers, grey cape and
right-ear bangle seemed to accentuate—not to mention the shaved
rounded chin, white face, delicate cheeks and placid grin.
Baus peered
away to turn his attention from the oddball assortment to matters
concerning survival. A sullen, oppressive atmosphere lurked about
the earthen yard and its depressing clumps of glum-shaped
spongebush and gorse shrub which peeked raggedly out of the corners
of the yard like grim dwarfs. The place was more a livestock yard
than a place for men. The mangy land was trampled by a thousand
feet—men who had worked for years toiling under duress. The
watchtower loomed forbiddingly above the walls with flanking
buttresses and a dull copper cupola. The drab sleeping quarters
pressed against the lichen-rich west wall and the officers’ hall
hunkered down under the tower’s shadow, but otherwise there were no
other outbuildings present, except what might be called the hive,
that dome-like sickly yellow construct hanging off the south
rampart.
The men stood
up to re-assess their new inmates. Baus felt a singular chill crawl
over his skin, what with the unpleasant grins, clucks and hoots
that came his way. Nuzbek was affected no less, but for some
perverse reason seemed to take exception to the attention given the
ridiculous black magic cap with which he still chose to crown his
head. He threw a deprecatory remark at the eye-winking Leamoine and
got himself into another unsalutary scuffle . . .
II
Baus and
Weavil’s adjustment to the daily duties in the yard proceeded
slowly. Certain activities granted rigor, which included
fish-cleaning, clam-shucking, stone-chipping, wood-chopping and
lugging stones to build the sea wall. Re-mortaring the gaol’s high
stone bulwark was also high on this list, which grew in disrepair
every year. Every third or fourth day, a new group of convicts was
summoned to apply blocks to the seawall. Heagram’s new construction
scheme, brainchild of Prefect Barth, included the plan to protect
the town’s heritage buildings by the old port from the killing
breakers that raged during the winter months. Four to five inmates
toiled away on the construction, hoisting stone upon stone,
packing, sealing the cracks, while Voin the general contractor,
watched on with critical attention. He monitored the work with a
vulpine ferocity, correcting every mistake
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