Session Seven, Part One: How Not To Buy A Boat
Dru looked across the table at Kennic. For years, he had been her friend, teacher, protector, confidante - even a surrogate parent for her when Tensin's business kept him away from his daughter. Now she needed him again, if only for his honesty.
Without preamble: "What does Galanodel get out of this?"
"Out of what?"
"The marriage. To me. What does he get?"
Kennic's eyes crinkled. "I assume you mean, besides the daughter of Tensin Naïlo."
"I know I'm no prize, Kennic. And I won't be a pawn."
The older elf studied her thoughtfully for a moment. "You always knew that you'd have a political marriage." When she did not respond, he sighed lightly. "I'm not certain. Galanodel performed a valuable service for your father, and the betrothal was what he asked for in return."
The sheer bravado of her mysterious fiancé astounded Dru. To ask a man like Tensin Naïlo for his daughter's hand..."Thank you." She rose, then looked back at Kennic. "I know how Papa feels about this, but...Ellerand and I are going to investigate this ghost ship. We think it's tied in to the Dragon's Claw somehow. Let him know if...if something happens."
Minutes later, at the docks, two cloaked figures moved silently to the end of the pier.
"Here's one."
"Good. Now remember...if this
is a ghost ship, they'll just stay in their rooms and wait for you to come in. The undead are strange that way."
The first figure hesitated, as if unsure, then glanced to make sure nobody was watching before lowering itself to the boat. The second one joined him, settling into the rower's seat and resting the oars in their locks. With a few strong strokes, they moved out into the rain-pocked bay.
"I think the rain is slacking off."
Di'Fier leaned close to Katya, murmuring over the slackening rain. "I don't see anyone that looks like the Dragon's Claw, do you?"
She shook her head, looking around the dilapidated piers of Scurvytown. "Maybe they're not going out to meet it?"
"Wait." The Watch-mage pointed. "There, on the harbor. Looks like a boat. They must have already left. We'd better find some way to follow them."
Katya shrugged. "Let's try in here. Maybe someone has a boat they'll sell us."
Di'Fier looked up at the sign. "The Bloody Skull..." Nevertheless, the pair forged bravely inward. As they entered, the raucous bar fell silent, and every pair of eyes (and not a few single eyes as well) turned to the duo. You could almost hear the word
Watchmen clump across the decks of their minds.
"We'd like to buy a boat," Katya informed them.
The crowd parted, giving way to a surly dwarf who looked the two over and sneered. "Yer wants ter buy a boat, eh? And who's going to handle it in this?"
"I will," the priestess told him, somehow managing to ignore the snickers that passed through the bar. Behind her, she could sense that Di'Fier was trying to tell her something, but it was important not to show weakness to this sort.
"Aye, well, come with me, then."
A short walk led them to a pier, from under which the dwarf produced the sorriest-looking boat either of the two had ever seen. "Now I shouldn' be sellin' this boat," he began, "On account of it bein' a hair-loom memory of me father. But, as you are in desperate straights, I think me father would forgive me if I let it go for two hundred gold."
Di'Fier looked across at the rapidly dwindling speck on the harbor, then down at the boat. He shrugged. Despite growing up in Freeport, his knowledge of boats was limited to 'the pointy bit goes in front'. "It looks OK to me," he told Katya. "All the holes are plugged up by those things, what d'you call them, barnacles." Turning to the dwarf, he produced a purse heavy with coin, and counted out twenty pieces of platinum. "Thank you, sir."
Katya smiled sweetly at the dwarf and raised her hand in benediction. "May you receive the Fate that you deserve."
Bloody Jack, leader of the notorious dockside gang known as the Cutthroats, swaggered back into the Bloody Skull. "Drinks are on the Watch tonight, lads," he called out, to a roar of approval from his men. "I jus' sold 'em Patch Carty's boat for two hundred gold!"
