Jason Weiser

Now, she was on her way to the home of some renegade, guilty.

The renegade stroked his mustache a few hours later, as he inspected the wares.

Real quickly, we're supposed to understand renegade in the archaic meaning of the word, as someone who abandons their religion, basically an apostate.

Weirdly enough, Renegade is the sole charge the story levels at this man, the one who's buying the enslaved Dunya and the pirated goods.

It does make the priorities seem a little askew.

I mean, at the very least, don't make Renegade sound so cool if it's somehow the worst thing this guy is doing.

He's not named, so we'll call him Ren.

And Ren was like Han Solo Orlando.

He was a scamp with a heart of gold.

Except for, you know, the slavery part.

Ren saw something in Danya, a.k.a.

Pedro.

A principled, moral, kind person.

He housed Pedro with his household, and the first day of work for Doña was learning Arabic in earnest.

In months, Doña knew enough to be a steward over Ren's house, and she was happy.

It was a strange feeling, truly one she never thought she would feel again after watching Pedro's face contort in the darkness outside her window, and his body tumble to the ground.

That memory, of course, didn't fade with time, but it dulled.

The bitterness was replaced by the sweetness of having people accept her for her, well, not for her, as a person, and having a job and doing it well, and being able to pull rent away from buying enslaved people and stolen goods.

For the first time since Pedro, Doña even had friends, like the young maidservant who tidied up and cleaned things around the house.

Doña would share a joke or an observation, and the pair would talk and laugh all day.