Ficlets

The quill slipped from his hand as Anso fell asleep while writing. A soft knock at his door brought him in a start back to his senses.

“What do you want?” Anso muttered, still half asleep. He could see no reason why the brutes that locked him in here would knock. The door unlatched and swung open, and Lucrezia stepped in out of the light rain. “What is to be done with me?” Anso was getting precious few answers to his questions.

“Relax.” she said, as she pulled up a crate to sit on across from Anso. She placed a bottle of wine and two cups over the document he had been writing on. “You ask too many damn questions. I need a drink. These pirates won’t touch the stuff. Here.” She shoved a glass at him, spilling red droplets on the parchment and poured a goblet for herself.

“They swear to me they are not Mohammadans, but they certainly do act the part well.” She sighed and blinked at Anso from beneath meticulously kept eyebrows while attempting to keep her balance on the makeshift stool.

“Drink.” She said.