Forgotten Lore (Updated M-W-F)
carborundum
Adventurer
Congratulations! Did you say the Graves Crew? As in, your Rappan Athuk party?
Lazybones
Adventurer
No, this is a series of novella-length stories about a crew of gravediggers who get into all kinds of unexpected trouble. This year's NNWM book was the fifth in the series.
The first one is a free download if anyone is interested: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/693637.
I did turn the first part of my Rappan Athuk story into a novel, but I never published it. Even with all the changes I made it was too dependent on the IP of the former Necromancer Games. But I occasionally hear feedback that suggests that folks are still reading it, and it's still on the front page of the Story Hour forum. I've written tons since then but it remains one of my favorite stories.
The first one is a free download if anyone is interested: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/693637.
I did turn the first part of my Rappan Athuk story into a novel, but I never published it. Even with all the changes I made it was too dependent on the IP of the former Necromancer Games. But I occasionally hear feedback that suggests that folks are still reading it, and it's still on the front page of the Story Hour forum. I've written tons since then but it remains one of my favorite stories.
carborundum
Adventurer
Yeah, it was the first one of yours I read. Took me a few weeks and helped me through many train journeys 
Graves Crew, Dungeon of Graves...got the two mixed up a bit
Graves Crew, Dungeon of Graves...got the two mixed up a bit
Lazybones
Adventurer
And we're back!
* * *
Chapter 227
The Arreshian caravel Wavefarer carved through modest seas, its sails filled with a strong following breeze. Ahead of the ship was a green island, its features taking on definition as the vessel drew nearer. A solitary peak rose up from the center of the island, and two juts of land extended from around an enclosed harbor as if to welcome the new arrivals. A city of considerable size rose from the inner edge of that harbor, its clean while buildings ascending onto the sides and summits of the hills that surrounded the bay.
Xeeta stood alone on the raised foredeck of the Wavefarer, staring at that slowly-approaching cityscape. She was resolved, and did not feel any doubts about her decision as the familiar landmarks became visible, but that did not ease the roiling uncertainty in her gut or the grim scenarios that constantly played out in the back of her mind.
A creak of wood alerted her to the presence of others behind her. She didn’t need to look back; she could already distinguish the feel of her friends from others, either the disinterested ambivalence of the crew or the wary deference from Kalasien and his men. Their presence felt like a balm that eased some of the turmoil she felt. That alone was enough of a confirmation of her decision to return.
She didn’t turn around until they came to stand at the rail beside her. Bredan remained back a step, twining his arm around one of the lines that supported the foremast. Glori, on the other hand, fearlessly joined Xeeta at the very front of the ship, leaning out so that the spray that the bow tore from the waves flashed over her features. “I know a few individuals who will be quite happy to see this part of the voyage come to an end,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Xeeta nodded. “I never thought I’d be back here again,” she said.
“We’ll only be here long enough to make contact with Kalasien’s friends, and find a Syvalian ship and crew willing to take us to Weltarin.”
“I wish we could stay with the Wavefarer,” Bredan said. “No offense, Xeeta…”
“Arienne,” Glori interjected.
“Right. Anyway, after all you’ve told us about Syvalian society, and its sailors in particular, it seems like a long shot to find a captain we can trust.”
“Your caution is wise,” Xeeta said. “Most Syvalian captains aren’t far off from pirates. In some cases, literally; many do a bit of piracy on the side. In Li Syval it’s seen as a patriotic duty, to help ensure Syvalian dominance of the seas.”
Bredan frowned. “That proves my point, then…”
“That’s all true, but they know the Deep, Bredan. No non-Syvalian ship has ever made the Weltarin crossing, as far as I am aware. Though few captains are willing to attempt the journey these days.”
“They gave up most of their colonies on the other continent, didn’t they?” Glori asked.
Xeeta nodded. “Yes. During the initial decades of exploration and discovery, there was a lot of talk of riches and new lands, even some who talked about a new Syvalian Empire to rival the Mai’i. But that ran up against the hard reality. Weltarin is halfway around the world, and even Syvalian ships make the journey only with great difficulty. The islands where they initially landed were sparsely populated and had few resources. The mainland had more riches, but also harsh terrain, dense jungles and arid deserts that were both hostile to colonists. That’s not even considering the creatures that lived there, monsters worse than anything we have back home.”
“And there were intelligent races there as well, yes?” Glori prodded.
“Yes. Strange beings, creatures that we would consider a mixture of animal and man. All barbarians by our standards, but no less dangerous for it.”
“I take it the initial contacts were not friendly,” Glori said.
“How would you feel, if armed strangers came to your land and started carving out its resources to ship halfway around the world?” Bredan asked.
“I’ve read histories that said there was plenty of blame to go around,” Xeeta said. “But you’re not wrong. Most of the Syvalian colonists ended up returning home, but they left behind a lot of blood in their wake.”
Another creak, this one significantly louder, drew their attention to another pair of new arrivals. This time it was Quellan and Kosk. The half-orc looked relaxed in a loose shirt. No amount of preparedness was enough to justify wearing heavy armor at sea, so he’d taken the captain’s suggestion and left it in his quarters. Kosk wore simple traveler’s clothes, but he looked a little green, and he remained close to the foremast, well back from the ship’s rails.
“Ah, Kosk!” Glori said. “Finally decided to come up and take in the fine salt air?”
The dwarf muttered something that was probably better left unheard.
“Sea sickness is a common affliction, and plays no favorites by race or gender,” Quellan said. The half-orc had also had some difficulties adjusting to sea travel, but his innate hardiness had ultimately won out. Now he looked almost hale as he stepped up to the forward rail to catch his first glimpse of Li Syval. “Impressive,” he said.
“It’s called the Gem of the Deep,” Xeeta said. “Lady of the Seas.”
“It looks almost as large as Severon,” Bredan said.
“It’s only about half as large, just going by population,” Quellan said. At Xeeta’s look he added, “I sought out a few books before we left.”
“Of course you did,” Kosk said.
“The only question is whether we’ll find what we’re looking for there,” Bredan said.
“If a ship heading to Weltarin can be found anywhere, it will be there,” Xeeta said.
“Assuming that Kalasien’s contacts play out,” Kosk said.
“We have no reason to believe they won’t,” Glori said.
“We’ll want to keep a low profile, either way,” Xeeta said. “You don’t want to attract the attention of the Ruling Council.”
“The city’s set up like the dwarves of Ironcrest, isn’t it?” Bredan asked. “Merchant guilds in charge of things.”
“Sort of,” Xeeta said. “The Council consists of the fifty leading families of the city. The number is set, but the exact participants frequently shift. As a result, there’s a constant game of houses going on, with plenty of plotting, backstabbing, and the occasional murder. About half of the population is caught up in it in one way or another, and the rest mostly just try to stay out of their way.”
“We’ll only be here a few days, hopefully,” Quellan said. “Not enough time to get into trouble with the locals.”
Kosk snorted at that. “You disagree?” Glori asked.
“When has it ever taken us any time at all to find trouble?” the dwarf asked.
“Well, maybe this time we can avoid it,” Glori said. She tapped Quellan’s chest, and the sigil there. “You know, you’ll have to play covert as well.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in her eyes when they met his.
“I know,” Quellan said with a sigh. “I have already prepared a canvas wrap for my shield.
“I have never gone to a place where any of the Triad gods were not worshipped,” Kosk said.
“Laesil is venerated, and worship of Sorevas is tolerated,” Xeeta said. “But the Syvalians have viewed the church of Hosrenu as a foreign import, ever since an incident related to some missionaries almost a millennium ago.”
“Long memories,” Glori noted.
“You said there aren’t many dwarves here,” Kosk said. “I’m not wearing a bloody canvas cover.”
“There aren’t many,” Xeeta said, “but Kalasien’s cover should hold, at least for a few days. As long as we all play our assigned roles.”
“I said I’d wear the bloody clothes,” Kosk said. “I just hope that bloody fop knows what he’s about.”
“We have no choice but to trust him,” Bredan said. “Other than… Arienne, he’s the only one of us who has spent time in Li Syval. And she needs to stay out of sight.”
“But surely no one will recognize her, wearing the amulet,” Glori said.
“No, he’s right,” Xeeta said, reaching up to touch the gemstone at her throat. “While I can appear as almost anyone using this, it’s an active spell, and radiates magic. While spellcasting is not forbidden in Li Syval, spellcasters must register with the city authorities. The law was put into effect after the cult that created me was exposed. I don’t know if the edict is still in effect, but it would be a needless risk for me to travel in the city. Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough of Li Syval for a lifetime; I have no desire to go sightseeing.”
“None of us are here to sightsee,” Bredan said. “Let’s just find Kalasien’s ship and get out of here.”
“Speak of the devil,” Kosk said. “Here comes one of his dogs now.”
Another man ascended the stairs to the now-crowded foredeck. He too was clad in simple sailor’s garb, a billowing shirt over loose trousers, but there was no disguising what he was. Like all of Kalasien’s men, he was a soldier through and through, and growing out their hair and changing their clothes would not conceal that.
“Ho, Haverd,” Quellan said in greeting. “Come to get a view of our destination? We’re coming up on the harbor fast.”
The soldier’s expression remained as blank as if it had been chiseled from stone. “Kalasien says you should all get below before the harbor pilot arrives,” he said. “We’re to avoid notice by the local authorities when possible.”
Bredan looked out and saw the small vessel that was approaching from one of the towers that flanked the harbor mouth. He’d missed it earlier, but Kalasien struck him as the sort of man who missed very little. He lingered for a moment while the others descended from the forward deck. He gave the approaching city one more look. He hoped that Kosk was wrong, and that this time they would avoid trouble, and their visit to Li Syval would be uneventful and brief.
* * *
Chapter 227
The Arreshian caravel Wavefarer carved through modest seas, its sails filled with a strong following breeze. Ahead of the ship was a green island, its features taking on definition as the vessel drew nearer. A solitary peak rose up from the center of the island, and two juts of land extended from around an enclosed harbor as if to welcome the new arrivals. A city of considerable size rose from the inner edge of that harbor, its clean while buildings ascending onto the sides and summits of the hills that surrounded the bay.
Xeeta stood alone on the raised foredeck of the Wavefarer, staring at that slowly-approaching cityscape. She was resolved, and did not feel any doubts about her decision as the familiar landmarks became visible, but that did not ease the roiling uncertainty in her gut or the grim scenarios that constantly played out in the back of her mind.
A creak of wood alerted her to the presence of others behind her. She didn’t need to look back; she could already distinguish the feel of her friends from others, either the disinterested ambivalence of the crew or the wary deference from Kalasien and his men. Their presence felt like a balm that eased some of the turmoil she felt. That alone was enough of a confirmation of her decision to return.
She didn’t turn around until they came to stand at the rail beside her. Bredan remained back a step, twining his arm around one of the lines that supported the foremast. Glori, on the other hand, fearlessly joined Xeeta at the very front of the ship, leaning out so that the spray that the bow tore from the waves flashed over her features. “I know a few individuals who will be quite happy to see this part of the voyage come to an end,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Xeeta nodded. “I never thought I’d be back here again,” she said.
“We’ll only be here long enough to make contact with Kalasien’s friends, and find a Syvalian ship and crew willing to take us to Weltarin.”
“I wish we could stay with the Wavefarer,” Bredan said. “No offense, Xeeta…”
“Arienne,” Glori interjected.
“Right. Anyway, after all you’ve told us about Syvalian society, and its sailors in particular, it seems like a long shot to find a captain we can trust.”
“Your caution is wise,” Xeeta said. “Most Syvalian captains aren’t far off from pirates. In some cases, literally; many do a bit of piracy on the side. In Li Syval it’s seen as a patriotic duty, to help ensure Syvalian dominance of the seas.”
Bredan frowned. “That proves my point, then…”
“That’s all true, but they know the Deep, Bredan. No non-Syvalian ship has ever made the Weltarin crossing, as far as I am aware. Though few captains are willing to attempt the journey these days.”
“They gave up most of their colonies on the other continent, didn’t they?” Glori asked.
Xeeta nodded. “Yes. During the initial decades of exploration and discovery, there was a lot of talk of riches and new lands, even some who talked about a new Syvalian Empire to rival the Mai’i. But that ran up against the hard reality. Weltarin is halfway around the world, and even Syvalian ships make the journey only with great difficulty. The islands where they initially landed were sparsely populated and had few resources. The mainland had more riches, but also harsh terrain, dense jungles and arid deserts that were both hostile to colonists. That’s not even considering the creatures that lived there, monsters worse than anything we have back home.”
“And there were intelligent races there as well, yes?” Glori prodded.
“Yes. Strange beings, creatures that we would consider a mixture of animal and man. All barbarians by our standards, but no less dangerous for it.”
“I take it the initial contacts were not friendly,” Glori said.
“How would you feel, if armed strangers came to your land and started carving out its resources to ship halfway around the world?” Bredan asked.
“I’ve read histories that said there was plenty of blame to go around,” Xeeta said. “But you’re not wrong. Most of the Syvalian colonists ended up returning home, but they left behind a lot of blood in their wake.”
Another creak, this one significantly louder, drew their attention to another pair of new arrivals. This time it was Quellan and Kosk. The half-orc looked relaxed in a loose shirt. No amount of preparedness was enough to justify wearing heavy armor at sea, so he’d taken the captain’s suggestion and left it in his quarters. Kosk wore simple traveler’s clothes, but he looked a little green, and he remained close to the foremast, well back from the ship’s rails.
“Ah, Kosk!” Glori said. “Finally decided to come up and take in the fine salt air?”
The dwarf muttered something that was probably better left unheard.
“Sea sickness is a common affliction, and plays no favorites by race or gender,” Quellan said. The half-orc had also had some difficulties adjusting to sea travel, but his innate hardiness had ultimately won out. Now he looked almost hale as he stepped up to the forward rail to catch his first glimpse of Li Syval. “Impressive,” he said.
“It’s called the Gem of the Deep,” Xeeta said. “Lady of the Seas.”
“It looks almost as large as Severon,” Bredan said.
“It’s only about half as large, just going by population,” Quellan said. At Xeeta’s look he added, “I sought out a few books before we left.”
“Of course you did,” Kosk said.
“The only question is whether we’ll find what we’re looking for there,” Bredan said.
“If a ship heading to Weltarin can be found anywhere, it will be there,” Xeeta said.
“Assuming that Kalasien’s contacts play out,” Kosk said.
“We have no reason to believe they won’t,” Glori said.
“We’ll want to keep a low profile, either way,” Xeeta said. “You don’t want to attract the attention of the Ruling Council.”
“The city’s set up like the dwarves of Ironcrest, isn’t it?” Bredan asked. “Merchant guilds in charge of things.”
“Sort of,” Xeeta said. “The Council consists of the fifty leading families of the city. The number is set, but the exact participants frequently shift. As a result, there’s a constant game of houses going on, with plenty of plotting, backstabbing, and the occasional murder. About half of the population is caught up in it in one way or another, and the rest mostly just try to stay out of their way.”
“We’ll only be here a few days, hopefully,” Quellan said. “Not enough time to get into trouble with the locals.”
Kosk snorted at that. “You disagree?” Glori asked.
“When has it ever taken us any time at all to find trouble?” the dwarf asked.
“Well, maybe this time we can avoid it,” Glori said. She tapped Quellan’s chest, and the sigil there. “You know, you’ll have to play covert as well.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in her eyes when they met his.
“I know,” Quellan said with a sigh. “I have already prepared a canvas wrap for my shield.
“I have never gone to a place where any of the Triad gods were not worshipped,” Kosk said.
“Laesil is venerated, and worship of Sorevas is tolerated,” Xeeta said. “But the Syvalians have viewed the church of Hosrenu as a foreign import, ever since an incident related to some missionaries almost a millennium ago.”
“Long memories,” Glori noted.
“You said there aren’t many dwarves here,” Kosk said. “I’m not wearing a bloody canvas cover.”
“There aren’t many,” Xeeta said, “but Kalasien’s cover should hold, at least for a few days. As long as we all play our assigned roles.”
“I said I’d wear the bloody clothes,” Kosk said. “I just hope that bloody fop knows what he’s about.”
“We have no choice but to trust him,” Bredan said. “Other than… Arienne, he’s the only one of us who has spent time in Li Syval. And she needs to stay out of sight.”
“But surely no one will recognize her, wearing the amulet,” Glori said.
“No, he’s right,” Xeeta said, reaching up to touch the gemstone at her throat. “While I can appear as almost anyone using this, it’s an active spell, and radiates magic. While spellcasting is not forbidden in Li Syval, spellcasters must register with the city authorities. The law was put into effect after the cult that created me was exposed. I don’t know if the edict is still in effect, but it would be a needless risk for me to travel in the city. Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough of Li Syval for a lifetime; I have no desire to go sightseeing.”
“None of us are here to sightsee,” Bredan said. “Let’s just find Kalasien’s ship and get out of here.”
“Speak of the devil,” Kosk said. “Here comes one of his dogs now.”
Another man ascended the stairs to the now-crowded foredeck. He too was clad in simple sailor’s garb, a billowing shirt over loose trousers, but there was no disguising what he was. Like all of Kalasien’s men, he was a soldier through and through, and growing out their hair and changing their clothes would not conceal that.
“Ho, Haverd,” Quellan said in greeting. “Come to get a view of our destination? We’re coming up on the harbor fast.”
The soldier’s expression remained as blank as if it had been chiseled from stone. “Kalasien says you should all get below before the harbor pilot arrives,” he said. “We’re to avoid notice by the local authorities when possible.”
Bredan looked out and saw the small vessel that was approaching from one of the towers that flanked the harbor mouth. He’d missed it earlier, but Kalasien struck him as the sort of man who missed very little. He lingered for a moment while the others descended from the forward deck. He gave the approaching city one more look. He hoped that Kosk was wrong, and that this time they would avoid trouble, and their visit to Li Syval would be uneventful and brief.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 228
The section of docks where the Wavefarer was berthed had ten times the level of activity as the wharf in Colverston, with twenty times the stench. As Bredan and his companions came up onto the deck of the caravel they were greeted by a wall of noise that rocked them back on their heels for a moment. From their vantage they could see dozens of ships, most of them only visible as part of a sea of masts that rose up out of the clutter. People were everywhere: fishermen, merchants, teamsters, stevedores, guards, and hundreds of others whose professions were not immediately discernable. Palanquins with interiors concealed by hanging curtains wove through the crowd on the backs of muscled bearers, while carts and wagons ventured the apparently impossible task of pushing through the crowd.
Bredan turned to see a massive ship that dwarfed the Wavefarer tied up at the next dock over. He now understood what Xeeta was getting at earlier; the giant galley made the Arreshian caravel seem like a toy by comparison.
Kalasien grabbed Bredan’s sleeve and pulled him back a moment before a sailor bearing a bolt of cloth would have collided into him. The warrior sheepishly joined the rest of the group in a temporarily sheltered space in the lee of the aft deck. “Remember,” Kalasien told them. “Stay close, don’t wander off, don’t engage with the locals, and above all, don’t talk about our mission where anyone could possibly hear.”
“Who could hear anything over all this?” Glori asked.
“There are people who can read lips,” Kalasien said. At first the adventurers just looked at him, thinking maybe he was teasing them, but then they noticed that he had deliberately placed himself where no one on the dock could see his face.
“The inn is not far,” he said. “Rooms have already been arranged, we have a whole wing to ourselves.”
“Won’t that draw notice?” Kosk asked. The dwarf looked uncomfortable, clad in the plain garb of a common servant. He was carrying a large chest that supposedly held the samples that the “merchant,” played by Kalasien, had brought to Li Syval to trade. The Arreshian agent wore a rich doublet with a silk shirt peeking out at the cuffs and collar, and a fur-lined cloak that was gratuitous in the heat slung over one shoulder. As he made his way to the gangplank, preceded by Haverd, he looked exactly like one of the wealthy merchants Bredan had seen in Severon.
The company made its way slowly into the press of humanity. Haverd, Elias, and Kavin, playing the part of merchant guards, opened a path for the others to follow. Though perhaps it was more Quellan’s presence. The cleric did not push anyone, but people tended to get out of the way when they saw the armored half-orc approaching.
Bredan realized that he should probably join them; he too was supposed to be a guard as part of their cover. He had put together a scabbard for his sword on the ship, and now wore the heavy weapon slung across his back. Here there was no need to keep weapons hidden; in fact, it looked like it was better to be obvious. Many of the people in the crowd were armed, and most of the men who were dressed in finery had at least a few guards close around them, glaring at anyone who got too close to their charges.
Such glares were probably futile; it was impossible to make it through this crowd without being jostled. Bredan abandoned any thoughts of joining the soldiers and instead focused on two things: keeping up, and keeping his purse. He remained close to Xeeta and Glori, who were walking in the shadow of the “merchant,” their eyes lowered from the gazes of the men in the crowd. Kalasien had briefed them all about how to behave in Li Syval, and no one seemed to be paying them any particular attention, but Bredan still felt self-conscious as he made his way through the press of humanity that was the city’s docks district.
Fortunately, the inn was as close as Kalasien had promised. They had only gone a few streets back from the docks, the din still clearly audible behind them, when they came to a sprawling two-story structure that appeared to take up most of a city block. The weathered sign showed a disconsolate sailor sitting atop a barrel, with the legend under it stating that this was The Seaman’s Lament.
The interior of the inn was comfortable and welcoming. Twelve long tables dominated the common space, while a row of booths with curtains that could be drawn for privacy stood along the wall to the right. Directly ahead of them was a curving bar that shone with polish. Most of the patrons were gathered there. It was still a bit early for the evening rush, although there were enough customers to keep the two bartenders busy.
“Wait here,” Kalasien said before heading over to greet a stout, balding man who had to be the innkeeper. He greeted the Arreshian agent like an old friend, though Bredan did not miss the subtle gesture by which a purse changed hands. The others waited near the door. A bouncer clad in a leather jerkin stretched tight over his expansive soldiers watched them intently, giving Bredan’s sword an evaluative look.
After a moment Kalasien called them over. “Our rooms are ready,” he said, leading them toward a staircase near the back of the room. Apparently, the innkeeper’s effusive welcomes did not extend to the hired help; after giving them a quick look he returned to his regular customers. Or maybe the coins in the purse had bought them their privacy, Bredan thought.
They made their way up to the topmost floor. Kosk grunted with the weight of the chest, but none of them offered to help him; they’d agreed they would stay in character whenever they were anywhere someone could see or hear them.
Three hallways extended out from the landing at the top of the stairs; Kalasien led them down one without a pause. The hall led all the way to the end of the inn, where a small window let in a bright shaft of afternoon sunlight. Multiple doors led off the hall; Kalasien selected one and led them into a small sitting room. Several doors led off the room, which was crowded with a small hearth, two couches, and a spacious wardrobe. Kalasien gestured them all in and then stepped into one of the side-rooms with Elias.
“Cozy,” Bredan said.
“Yeah, apparently Arreshian coin buys only the finest lodgings,” Kosk said as he threw the chest down onto one of the couches.
“Careful,” Haverd said. He’d closed the hallway door, but stood next to it, his ear pressed close against the wood.
“We all understand the need for caution,” Glori said. “But how could anyone know who we are, or why we’re here?”
“You’d be surprised what information changes hands in a place like this,” Kalasien said as he stepped back into the room. The others looked at him in surprise. Gone was the expensive clock and fancy doublet; now he wore a plain coat in the local style with dark trousers and scuffed boots. A soft leather cap hung rakishly across his brow, and a pair of daggers jutted out from his belt, the hilts within easy reach. Even his manner had changed, his stance and bearing altered to match his new attire.
“Get cleaned up, rest, have a meal downstairs, just don’t leave the inn,” Kalasien said. “I won’t be long.”
“You’re going out?” Bredan asked.
“Of course. I have to make the initial contact with our friends in the city. Get comfortable, it may take a day or two before I can set up a meet with a viable captain. If anyone asks, ‘Master Silas’ is taking his rest after the arduous voyage. He’ll make an appearance in the common room later tonight.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we all stayed together?” Glori asked.
“The people I’m meeting get nervous with large groups,” Kalasien said. “And to be honest, you lot sort of stand out. Don’t worry, I have done this sort of thing before. And if something does happen to me, there is information hidden in our luggage that can help you; Haverd knows where it is.”
“While I find preparedness admirable, I do not find that entirely reassuring,” Quellan said.
“Can’t do anything about that,” Kalasien said with a shrug. “Haverd and Kavin will stay here and help keep an eye out.” With a nod toward Elias he headed to the outer door, the soldier following.
For a moment the five adventurers just stood there looking at each other, then Glori shrugged. “Well,” she said. “Anyone hungry?”
The section of docks where the Wavefarer was berthed had ten times the level of activity as the wharf in Colverston, with twenty times the stench. As Bredan and his companions came up onto the deck of the caravel they were greeted by a wall of noise that rocked them back on their heels for a moment. From their vantage they could see dozens of ships, most of them only visible as part of a sea of masts that rose up out of the clutter. People were everywhere: fishermen, merchants, teamsters, stevedores, guards, and hundreds of others whose professions were not immediately discernable. Palanquins with interiors concealed by hanging curtains wove through the crowd on the backs of muscled bearers, while carts and wagons ventured the apparently impossible task of pushing through the crowd.
Bredan turned to see a massive ship that dwarfed the Wavefarer tied up at the next dock over. He now understood what Xeeta was getting at earlier; the giant galley made the Arreshian caravel seem like a toy by comparison.
Kalasien grabbed Bredan’s sleeve and pulled him back a moment before a sailor bearing a bolt of cloth would have collided into him. The warrior sheepishly joined the rest of the group in a temporarily sheltered space in the lee of the aft deck. “Remember,” Kalasien told them. “Stay close, don’t wander off, don’t engage with the locals, and above all, don’t talk about our mission where anyone could possibly hear.”
“Who could hear anything over all this?” Glori asked.
“There are people who can read lips,” Kalasien said. At first the adventurers just looked at him, thinking maybe he was teasing them, but then they noticed that he had deliberately placed himself where no one on the dock could see his face.
“The inn is not far,” he said. “Rooms have already been arranged, we have a whole wing to ourselves.”
“Won’t that draw notice?” Kosk asked. The dwarf looked uncomfortable, clad in the plain garb of a common servant. He was carrying a large chest that supposedly held the samples that the “merchant,” played by Kalasien, had brought to Li Syval to trade. The Arreshian agent wore a rich doublet with a silk shirt peeking out at the cuffs and collar, and a fur-lined cloak that was gratuitous in the heat slung over one shoulder. As he made his way to the gangplank, preceded by Haverd, he looked exactly like one of the wealthy merchants Bredan had seen in Severon.
The company made its way slowly into the press of humanity. Haverd, Elias, and Kavin, playing the part of merchant guards, opened a path for the others to follow. Though perhaps it was more Quellan’s presence. The cleric did not push anyone, but people tended to get out of the way when they saw the armored half-orc approaching.
Bredan realized that he should probably join them; he too was supposed to be a guard as part of their cover. He had put together a scabbard for his sword on the ship, and now wore the heavy weapon slung across his back. Here there was no need to keep weapons hidden; in fact, it looked like it was better to be obvious. Many of the people in the crowd were armed, and most of the men who were dressed in finery had at least a few guards close around them, glaring at anyone who got too close to their charges.
Such glares were probably futile; it was impossible to make it through this crowd without being jostled. Bredan abandoned any thoughts of joining the soldiers and instead focused on two things: keeping up, and keeping his purse. He remained close to Xeeta and Glori, who were walking in the shadow of the “merchant,” their eyes lowered from the gazes of the men in the crowd. Kalasien had briefed them all about how to behave in Li Syval, and no one seemed to be paying them any particular attention, but Bredan still felt self-conscious as he made his way through the press of humanity that was the city’s docks district.
Fortunately, the inn was as close as Kalasien had promised. They had only gone a few streets back from the docks, the din still clearly audible behind them, when they came to a sprawling two-story structure that appeared to take up most of a city block. The weathered sign showed a disconsolate sailor sitting atop a barrel, with the legend under it stating that this was The Seaman’s Lament.
The interior of the inn was comfortable and welcoming. Twelve long tables dominated the common space, while a row of booths with curtains that could be drawn for privacy stood along the wall to the right. Directly ahead of them was a curving bar that shone with polish. Most of the patrons were gathered there. It was still a bit early for the evening rush, although there were enough customers to keep the two bartenders busy.
“Wait here,” Kalasien said before heading over to greet a stout, balding man who had to be the innkeeper. He greeted the Arreshian agent like an old friend, though Bredan did not miss the subtle gesture by which a purse changed hands. The others waited near the door. A bouncer clad in a leather jerkin stretched tight over his expansive soldiers watched them intently, giving Bredan’s sword an evaluative look.
After a moment Kalasien called them over. “Our rooms are ready,” he said, leading them toward a staircase near the back of the room. Apparently, the innkeeper’s effusive welcomes did not extend to the hired help; after giving them a quick look he returned to his regular customers. Or maybe the coins in the purse had bought them their privacy, Bredan thought.
They made their way up to the topmost floor. Kosk grunted with the weight of the chest, but none of them offered to help him; they’d agreed they would stay in character whenever they were anywhere someone could see or hear them.
Three hallways extended out from the landing at the top of the stairs; Kalasien led them down one without a pause. The hall led all the way to the end of the inn, where a small window let in a bright shaft of afternoon sunlight. Multiple doors led off the hall; Kalasien selected one and led them into a small sitting room. Several doors led off the room, which was crowded with a small hearth, two couches, and a spacious wardrobe. Kalasien gestured them all in and then stepped into one of the side-rooms with Elias.
“Cozy,” Bredan said.
“Yeah, apparently Arreshian coin buys only the finest lodgings,” Kosk said as he threw the chest down onto one of the couches.
“Careful,” Haverd said. He’d closed the hallway door, but stood next to it, his ear pressed close against the wood.
“We all understand the need for caution,” Glori said. “But how could anyone know who we are, or why we’re here?”
“You’d be surprised what information changes hands in a place like this,” Kalasien said as he stepped back into the room. The others looked at him in surprise. Gone was the expensive clock and fancy doublet; now he wore a plain coat in the local style with dark trousers and scuffed boots. A soft leather cap hung rakishly across his brow, and a pair of daggers jutted out from his belt, the hilts within easy reach. Even his manner had changed, his stance and bearing altered to match his new attire.
“Get cleaned up, rest, have a meal downstairs, just don’t leave the inn,” Kalasien said. “I won’t be long.”
“You’re going out?” Bredan asked.
“Of course. I have to make the initial contact with our friends in the city. Get comfortable, it may take a day or two before I can set up a meet with a viable captain. If anyone asks, ‘Master Silas’ is taking his rest after the arduous voyage. He’ll make an appearance in the common room later tonight.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we all stayed together?” Glori asked.
“The people I’m meeting get nervous with large groups,” Kalasien said. “And to be honest, you lot sort of stand out. Don’t worry, I have done this sort of thing before. And if something does happen to me, there is information hidden in our luggage that can help you; Haverd knows where it is.”
“While I find preparedness admirable, I do not find that entirely reassuring,” Quellan said.
“Can’t do anything about that,” Kalasien said with a shrug. “Haverd and Kavin will stay here and help keep an eye out.” With a nod toward Elias he headed to the outer door, the soldier following.
For a moment the five adventurers just stood there looking at each other, then Glori shrugged. “Well,” she said. “Anyone hungry?”
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 229
Galendra Sond was not content as she sipped her tea and studied the clouds swirling through her window.
The tea was hot, and spiced just the way she liked it. The room was comfortable and well-furnished. It was twice the size of her cabin on the Gull, with fancier decorations including a pair of gilded lamp-stands and a large brass-bound chest. A fire burned in the hearth, keeping the chill at bay. Even without looking outside she could tell that a good blow was coming. She could feel it. If she was on the Gull she’d be ordering the crew to secure the ship, even in harbor.
That was it, she supposed. She missed her ship. It was less than a mile away, as the crow flew, but she still missed it. She’d already visited half a dozen times over the last week. Any further visits would send the message that she lacked confidence in Corgan’s crew at the drydock. She might have dropped in again despite that, but there was also the possibility that Corgan might ask questions about her debts, and the outstanding lien on the Gull.
A knock on the door shook her from those thoughts. She put the teacup down and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Enter.”
The door opened and Trev came in. Her second loomed over her like a giant, but then again, most folks did. Galendra stood barely three feet tall even in her boots. That was average for a halfling, but she was the only ship captain in Li Syval of that race. She was proud of the fact that her diminutive size had never been an issue with any of her crews, at least not after they could see what she could do.
Trev knuckled his forehead in salute. “They’re here,” he said.
“How do they look?” Galendra asked.
“Suspicious, I’d say. They have a half-orc and a dwarf that both look like they’ve knocked a few heads in their time, along with a couple of soldiers pretending to be hired men.”
“And the merchant?”
“He has the look, and says the right things, but if he’s not a spy I’ll eat my hat.”
“Of course he’s a spy. But a fat purse is a fat purse, and doesn’t care what country the coins in it come from.”
“The Ruling Council might not see things that way.”
“The Council doesn’t need to stick its nose into every bit of business that comes before a licensed ship and its crew. We pay our taxes, and our documents are current. Or was there something more that gave you pause?”
“I just… Are you sure this is a good idea, Captain?”
“”It’s not like we have a lot of choices right now, Trev. I can’t even afford to get the Gull out of drydock, let alone pay off our creditors.”
“There are plenty of local contracts…”
“You know as well as I do that any short-term bids I could pull down would only leave us in the same position again once our debts came due. Then we’d be right back where we are now, only with fewer options.”
Trev looked chagrined. There were times when she almost forgot how young he was, Galendra thought. “I’m sorry, Trev. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s nobody’s fault… just ill luck. Laesil’s been having her fun with us, this last year.”
Trev reflexively made the gesture that warded away the baleful gaze of Ilia Fortuna. If only it was so easy, Galendra thought.
“Show our potential customers in,” she said.
Her first impressions confirmed Trev’s evaluation. The half-orc was impressive, especially clad in a suit of heavy mail, but there was something about him that didn’t quite square with the martial impression he presented. The same could be said about the dwarf; he certainly had the look of a brawler, but at the same time there was a quiet calm to him that was unique among the various dwarves she had encountered in her travels. The soldiers were as her second had pegged them, easily marked as what they were. The merchant might have been convincing, but she doubted that most had those old callouses on their sword-hands.
There weren’t enough chairs at the table for all of them and she didn’t bother to offer any of them to her guests. If the merchant was put off by the cool welcome he didn’t let it show. “Captain Sond, a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, offering a polite bow. “Dalser Pon had nothing but good things to say about you and your crew.”
“Dalser Pon would praise his worst rival if there was a coin in it,” Galendra said. “On the other hand, I know nothing about you, Master Silas. Your name is not known in Li Syval.”
“I have not had the pleasure of being able to visit the islands thus far in my humble career,” Silas said.
“From what I understand, your first visit will be brief,” Galendra said.
“Sadly, yes. Urgent business compels me to seek passage immediately. We require a vessel that can manage the Weltarin Crossing.”
Galendra had been prepared, but she still had to carefully school her expression to keep from revealing a reaction to the name of the distant continent. Trev, however, betrayed a more immediate reaction. “The Crossing is no casual journey, especially for foreigners. What exactly is that business?” he asked.
Silas kept his attention on Galendra, who waved a hand in acknowledgment. “It is a valid question,” she said.
Silas did not appear to be concerned. “Syvalian captains have a reputation for discretion,” he said. “I understand that my request is… significant, and that such a request commands a premium rate.”
“You ask us to place our ship at considerable risk,” Trev said. “The Crossing is dangerous, even for a veteran crew.”
Galendra made a subtle nod in his direction. “It is my second’s job to look out for the safety of my crew,” she said.
“And the captain’s job to look out for their business interest,” Silas said without hesitation. “I understand your concerns. These are difficult times, right now, what with the recent downturn in the commodities markets. There is so much uncertainty in the long-distance trade sector at the moment… challenging times for the owner of a free galley.”
“We Syvalians have a saying,” Galendra said. “Uncertain times make for business opportunities.”
“We have a similar saying where I am from,” Silas said.
“Where is that, if you don’t mind me asking?” Trev asked.
Silas didn’t bother acknowledging the question; he just held Galendra’s eyes with his. “What’s the cargo?” she finally asked.
“Nine passengers, with luggage.”
Trev looked like he was about to ask a question, but he saw Galendra’s face and held his tongue.
“How long?” she asked.
“A few months,” Silas said.
“That would take us up to the edge of storm season,” Galendra said. “I don’t want to be stuck at Fort Promise all winter.”
“We can afford to be somewhat flexible,” Silas said.
Galendra’s eyes flicked over to the left. One of Silas’s men had come further into the room and was examining the map that hung from the wall opposite the window. It was a quality map, expensive, and while it focused on Voralis it did include the eastern edge of Weltarin as well. Large parts of the latter portion were blank, especially the inland areas, but at least what was there was accurate, with none of the illustrations of dragons and sea monsters that the general public enjoyed.
For some reason, the young man studying the map drew her attention. She’d almost missed him earlier, standing in the back of the small company, but there was something about him that alerted her more than any of the others. He wore an almost comically large sword slung across his back, but she guessed him to be younger even than Trev by a good five or six years.
At the lull in the conversation the young swordsman reached up and pointed to a portion of the map that showed Weltarin. “What is this place?” he asked.
Galendra’s eyes were sharp; she didn’t need to look closer to see what he was indicating. There was little more on the map than the squiggle of the coastline; the interior beyond was all blank. “That is the Black Coast,” she said. “Not much there except for rocky shores and dense jungle. The whole continent is unfriendly, but the Black Coast is deadly. You won’t find any Syvalian captains willing to journey there.”
“One did,” the young man said quietly.
Galendra frowned at that, but Silas quickly stepped in to bring the conversation back to the main point. “Let’s just focus on getting to Fort Promise, shall we? You are now familiar with our needs, Captain Sond. Can the Golden Gull accommodate them?”
Galendra glanced over at Trev; his feelings on the matter were obvious. She regarded Silas again, but she already knew that she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him. No doubt he had a list of other captains to meet with. Most would probably share her reluctance, but then again, most would have more options than she did. A fact that Silas, or whoever he was, no doubt knew quite well.
“Twenty-five thousand,” she said. “Twenty percent in advance.”
She had to stifle a grin at Trev’s audible gasp. Silas and his people betrayed their own reactions, though the merchant himself merely nodded.
“We could almost buy our own ship for that,” the dwarf said.
“Yes,” Galendra said. “But you would still need a crew. No doubt you already know that the number of crews that have made the Crossing is small and shrinking. The Gull is one of only a handful of vessels now in Li Syval that has made the journey.” Once, she thought, but she left that unsaid. The memories were still fresh, even five years old as they were. On her return she’d sworn an oath and made an offering at the Temple of the Lady, but the priests of Ilia Fortuna were always happy to accept a second donation if and when one’s circumstances changed. Business was business, after all, and it wasn’t as though her luck could get much worse.
Silas pretended to consider, but she could see the truth in his eyes. Still, he said, “Five thousand is a lot for an advance.”
“I’ll need to hire on more crew,” Galendra said. “And stock in a full store of provisions. The Crossing is a five-week journey if we’re lucky, up to twice that if we’re not. This is the quiet season, but the Deep is fickle even in summer.”
“You won’t find a ship faster than the Gull with Captain Sond at the helm,” Trev said, reasserting his loyalty.
“Indeed,” Silas said. He produced a small, tightly wound scroll from a pocket of his coat, and handed it over to Trev. “That should cover the advance,” he said. “The rest will be transferred to your accounts upon our return.”
“Agreed,” Galendra said. There would be more paperwork before their departure, documents that had to be prepared, bribes that had to be recorded, but the hard part was over. She had saved her ship, but instead of relief all she felt was a vague sense of unease.
“How long until you are ready to sail?” Silas asked.
“We’re finishing up a few minor repairs in dry dock,” Galendra said. “Between that and the other preparations I mentioned, four days. Will that work for you?”
“It will,” Silas said. He kissed his fingertips and extended the hand toward her, and after a moment Galendra repeated the gesture, shaking his hand. “I look forward to a safe and swift crossing,” he said.
It took a minute for the merchant and his company to file out. When the door was shut and the sounds of them making their way down the steps had faded, Trev turned to her with a look of amazement on his face. “Twenty-five thousand! They must really be desperate!”
“Yes. And desperate people can be counted on to do almost anything, Trev.” Like I just did, she thought. “Remember that.”
“Still,” he said. “That will cover all our debts, and then some.”
“Yes, and all we have to do is sail the Crossing, one more time.”
“I wasn’t with you the last time, but I heard about it from a few of the old hands.”
The ones that made it, she thought. “They aren’t exaggerating.”
“Well, as you said, we don’t exactly have a lot of options right now.”
“It’s a risk,” she acknowledged. “You were right about the Ruling Council, earlier. We will have to be very careful when we file our itinerary, and generous with the filing fee. But even so, there are no guarantees. Tobias in particular would be quite happy to see any deal fall through, if it meant he could collect on our lien.”
“We could take the five thousand and sail,” Trev said.
There was a long pause. Finally, Galendra said, “I will pretend that I did not hear that.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
She got up from her chair, dropping lightly onto her feet from the comparatively high perch. Another reason to miss her cabin; the furniture here was always too big for her to be comfortable. “We’ve got a lot to do,” she said. “I’ll go cash the writ, and make sure that Corgan gets his payment in full.” She held out her hand, taking the scroll from Trev. “You take what’s left of the petty cash and begin looking for new crew. You know what we need. We’re not likely to find a lot of Crossing vets these days, but make sure they know what they’re in for. I don’t want any mutinies on this voyage.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see it done.”
“I know you will, Trev.”
She went to get her coat while he left. She glanced out the window again. The clouds had thickened and darkened noticeably; it would likely rain before morning. She paused and considered the scroll in her hand. It was only a down payment, and it wouldn’t help at all if the Gull ended up shipwrecked on some distant shore or lost within under the vastness of the Blue Deep. But it represented a future for her and her crew, a future that had seemed nearly impossible scant minutes before.
Yet she couldn’t escape the sudden feeling of dread. Her eyes traveled up to the map, to the vague lines where the young warrior’s finger had rested a few minutes before.
Breaking an oath to herself, weighed against the loss of her ship. There was only one decision she could make.
Shaking her head, she tucked the scroll into an inner pocket of her coat and headed downstairs.
Galendra Sond was not content as she sipped her tea and studied the clouds swirling through her window.
The tea was hot, and spiced just the way she liked it. The room was comfortable and well-furnished. It was twice the size of her cabin on the Gull, with fancier decorations including a pair of gilded lamp-stands and a large brass-bound chest. A fire burned in the hearth, keeping the chill at bay. Even without looking outside she could tell that a good blow was coming. She could feel it. If she was on the Gull she’d be ordering the crew to secure the ship, even in harbor.
That was it, she supposed. She missed her ship. It was less than a mile away, as the crow flew, but she still missed it. She’d already visited half a dozen times over the last week. Any further visits would send the message that she lacked confidence in Corgan’s crew at the drydock. She might have dropped in again despite that, but there was also the possibility that Corgan might ask questions about her debts, and the outstanding lien on the Gull.
A knock on the door shook her from those thoughts. She put the teacup down and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Enter.”
The door opened and Trev came in. Her second loomed over her like a giant, but then again, most folks did. Galendra stood barely three feet tall even in her boots. That was average for a halfling, but she was the only ship captain in Li Syval of that race. She was proud of the fact that her diminutive size had never been an issue with any of her crews, at least not after they could see what she could do.
Trev knuckled his forehead in salute. “They’re here,” he said.
“How do they look?” Galendra asked.
“Suspicious, I’d say. They have a half-orc and a dwarf that both look like they’ve knocked a few heads in their time, along with a couple of soldiers pretending to be hired men.”
“And the merchant?”
“He has the look, and says the right things, but if he’s not a spy I’ll eat my hat.”
“Of course he’s a spy. But a fat purse is a fat purse, and doesn’t care what country the coins in it come from.”
“The Ruling Council might not see things that way.”
“The Council doesn’t need to stick its nose into every bit of business that comes before a licensed ship and its crew. We pay our taxes, and our documents are current. Or was there something more that gave you pause?”
“I just… Are you sure this is a good idea, Captain?”
“”It’s not like we have a lot of choices right now, Trev. I can’t even afford to get the Gull out of drydock, let alone pay off our creditors.”
“There are plenty of local contracts…”
“You know as well as I do that any short-term bids I could pull down would only leave us in the same position again once our debts came due. Then we’d be right back where we are now, only with fewer options.”
Trev looked chagrined. There were times when she almost forgot how young he was, Galendra thought. “I’m sorry, Trev. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s nobody’s fault… just ill luck. Laesil’s been having her fun with us, this last year.”
Trev reflexively made the gesture that warded away the baleful gaze of Ilia Fortuna. If only it was so easy, Galendra thought.
“Show our potential customers in,” she said.
Her first impressions confirmed Trev’s evaluation. The half-orc was impressive, especially clad in a suit of heavy mail, but there was something about him that didn’t quite square with the martial impression he presented. The same could be said about the dwarf; he certainly had the look of a brawler, but at the same time there was a quiet calm to him that was unique among the various dwarves she had encountered in her travels. The soldiers were as her second had pegged them, easily marked as what they were. The merchant might have been convincing, but she doubted that most had those old callouses on their sword-hands.
There weren’t enough chairs at the table for all of them and she didn’t bother to offer any of them to her guests. If the merchant was put off by the cool welcome he didn’t let it show. “Captain Sond, a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, offering a polite bow. “Dalser Pon had nothing but good things to say about you and your crew.”
“Dalser Pon would praise his worst rival if there was a coin in it,” Galendra said. “On the other hand, I know nothing about you, Master Silas. Your name is not known in Li Syval.”
“I have not had the pleasure of being able to visit the islands thus far in my humble career,” Silas said.
“From what I understand, your first visit will be brief,” Galendra said.
“Sadly, yes. Urgent business compels me to seek passage immediately. We require a vessel that can manage the Weltarin Crossing.”
Galendra had been prepared, but she still had to carefully school her expression to keep from revealing a reaction to the name of the distant continent. Trev, however, betrayed a more immediate reaction. “The Crossing is no casual journey, especially for foreigners. What exactly is that business?” he asked.
Silas kept his attention on Galendra, who waved a hand in acknowledgment. “It is a valid question,” she said.
Silas did not appear to be concerned. “Syvalian captains have a reputation for discretion,” he said. “I understand that my request is… significant, and that such a request commands a premium rate.”
“You ask us to place our ship at considerable risk,” Trev said. “The Crossing is dangerous, even for a veteran crew.”
Galendra made a subtle nod in his direction. “It is my second’s job to look out for the safety of my crew,” she said.
“And the captain’s job to look out for their business interest,” Silas said without hesitation. “I understand your concerns. These are difficult times, right now, what with the recent downturn in the commodities markets. There is so much uncertainty in the long-distance trade sector at the moment… challenging times for the owner of a free galley.”
“We Syvalians have a saying,” Galendra said. “Uncertain times make for business opportunities.”
“We have a similar saying where I am from,” Silas said.
“Where is that, if you don’t mind me asking?” Trev asked.
Silas didn’t bother acknowledging the question; he just held Galendra’s eyes with his. “What’s the cargo?” she finally asked.
“Nine passengers, with luggage.”
Trev looked like he was about to ask a question, but he saw Galendra’s face and held his tongue.
“How long?” she asked.
“A few months,” Silas said.
“That would take us up to the edge of storm season,” Galendra said. “I don’t want to be stuck at Fort Promise all winter.”
“We can afford to be somewhat flexible,” Silas said.
Galendra’s eyes flicked over to the left. One of Silas’s men had come further into the room and was examining the map that hung from the wall opposite the window. It was a quality map, expensive, and while it focused on Voralis it did include the eastern edge of Weltarin as well. Large parts of the latter portion were blank, especially the inland areas, but at least what was there was accurate, with none of the illustrations of dragons and sea monsters that the general public enjoyed.
For some reason, the young man studying the map drew her attention. She’d almost missed him earlier, standing in the back of the small company, but there was something about him that alerted her more than any of the others. He wore an almost comically large sword slung across his back, but she guessed him to be younger even than Trev by a good five or six years.
At the lull in the conversation the young swordsman reached up and pointed to a portion of the map that showed Weltarin. “What is this place?” he asked.
Galendra’s eyes were sharp; she didn’t need to look closer to see what he was indicating. There was little more on the map than the squiggle of the coastline; the interior beyond was all blank. “That is the Black Coast,” she said. “Not much there except for rocky shores and dense jungle. The whole continent is unfriendly, but the Black Coast is deadly. You won’t find any Syvalian captains willing to journey there.”
“One did,” the young man said quietly.
Galendra frowned at that, but Silas quickly stepped in to bring the conversation back to the main point. “Let’s just focus on getting to Fort Promise, shall we? You are now familiar with our needs, Captain Sond. Can the Golden Gull accommodate them?”
Galendra glanced over at Trev; his feelings on the matter were obvious. She regarded Silas again, but she already knew that she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him. No doubt he had a list of other captains to meet with. Most would probably share her reluctance, but then again, most would have more options than she did. A fact that Silas, or whoever he was, no doubt knew quite well.
“Twenty-five thousand,” she said. “Twenty percent in advance.”
She had to stifle a grin at Trev’s audible gasp. Silas and his people betrayed their own reactions, though the merchant himself merely nodded.
“We could almost buy our own ship for that,” the dwarf said.
“Yes,” Galendra said. “But you would still need a crew. No doubt you already know that the number of crews that have made the Crossing is small and shrinking. The Gull is one of only a handful of vessels now in Li Syval that has made the journey.” Once, she thought, but she left that unsaid. The memories were still fresh, even five years old as they were. On her return she’d sworn an oath and made an offering at the Temple of the Lady, but the priests of Ilia Fortuna were always happy to accept a second donation if and when one’s circumstances changed. Business was business, after all, and it wasn’t as though her luck could get much worse.
Silas pretended to consider, but she could see the truth in his eyes. Still, he said, “Five thousand is a lot for an advance.”
“I’ll need to hire on more crew,” Galendra said. “And stock in a full store of provisions. The Crossing is a five-week journey if we’re lucky, up to twice that if we’re not. This is the quiet season, but the Deep is fickle even in summer.”
“You won’t find a ship faster than the Gull with Captain Sond at the helm,” Trev said, reasserting his loyalty.
“Indeed,” Silas said. He produced a small, tightly wound scroll from a pocket of his coat, and handed it over to Trev. “That should cover the advance,” he said. “The rest will be transferred to your accounts upon our return.”
“Agreed,” Galendra said. There would be more paperwork before their departure, documents that had to be prepared, bribes that had to be recorded, but the hard part was over. She had saved her ship, but instead of relief all she felt was a vague sense of unease.
“How long until you are ready to sail?” Silas asked.
“We’re finishing up a few minor repairs in dry dock,” Galendra said. “Between that and the other preparations I mentioned, four days. Will that work for you?”
“It will,” Silas said. He kissed his fingertips and extended the hand toward her, and after a moment Galendra repeated the gesture, shaking his hand. “I look forward to a safe and swift crossing,” he said.
It took a minute for the merchant and his company to file out. When the door was shut and the sounds of them making their way down the steps had faded, Trev turned to her with a look of amazement on his face. “Twenty-five thousand! They must really be desperate!”
“Yes. And desperate people can be counted on to do almost anything, Trev.” Like I just did, she thought. “Remember that.”
“Still,” he said. “That will cover all our debts, and then some.”
“Yes, and all we have to do is sail the Crossing, one more time.”
“I wasn’t with you the last time, but I heard about it from a few of the old hands.”
The ones that made it, she thought. “They aren’t exaggerating.”
“Well, as you said, we don’t exactly have a lot of options right now.”
“It’s a risk,” she acknowledged. “You were right about the Ruling Council, earlier. We will have to be very careful when we file our itinerary, and generous with the filing fee. But even so, there are no guarantees. Tobias in particular would be quite happy to see any deal fall through, if it meant he could collect on our lien.”
“We could take the five thousand and sail,” Trev said.
There was a long pause. Finally, Galendra said, “I will pretend that I did not hear that.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
She got up from her chair, dropping lightly onto her feet from the comparatively high perch. Another reason to miss her cabin; the furniture here was always too big for her to be comfortable. “We’ve got a lot to do,” she said. “I’ll go cash the writ, and make sure that Corgan gets his payment in full.” She held out her hand, taking the scroll from Trev. “You take what’s left of the petty cash and begin looking for new crew. You know what we need. We’re not likely to find a lot of Crossing vets these days, but make sure they know what they’re in for. I don’t want any mutinies on this voyage.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see it done.”
“I know you will, Trev.”
She went to get her coat while he left. She glanced out the window again. The clouds had thickened and darkened noticeably; it would likely rain before morning. She paused and considered the scroll in her hand. It was only a down payment, and it wouldn’t help at all if the Gull ended up shipwrecked on some distant shore or lost within under the vastness of the Blue Deep. But it represented a future for her and her crew, a future that had seemed nearly impossible scant minutes before.
Yet she couldn’t escape the sudden feeling of dread. Her eyes traveled up to the map, to the vague lines where the young warrior’s finger had rested a few minutes before.
Breaking an oath to herself, weighed against the loss of her ship. There was only one decision she could make.
Shaking her head, she tucked the scroll into an inner pocket of her coat and headed downstairs.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 230
Glori sat alone in the common room of The Seaman’s Lament and sipped her wine. Majerion’s tutelage had included instruction on how to appreciate wine. This was a fine Siccarian vintage, crisp and fruity, but she was too distracted to give it its due.
She turned her head and scanned the room. The inn was even quieter than it had been when they’d first arrived in town two days ago. She was starting to get a feel for the place, and knew it would get busy once the afternoon shift at the docks let out and a small army of clerks, journeymen, and others with the coin to afford the Lament’s prices would descend upon the inn.
For the moment, the dozen or so patrons enjoyed their drinks in peace. The feel of a quiet common room grated on Glori’s sensibilities, and she was tempted to go up and fetch her lyre, to fill the chamber with music. But while the gilded instrument fit with her cover as the private player of the “rich foreign merchant,” such a person wouldn’t be playing tunes in a common room.
She turned back to the window and looked out into the street, but couldn’t see much through the streaks of rain that covered the glass. She was starting to feel stir-crazy from being cooped up here. She understood why it wouldn’t have been consistent for her to accompany Bredan and the others to meet with the Syvalian captain, and someone needed to stay here with Xeeta, but the forced inactivity was still difficult to deal with.
She’d asked Xeeta to join her for a drink, but the tiefling had refused. She was likely still distracted by the feelings wrought by her return to her homeland. Kavin had also turned down her offer. She suspected that the soldier had orders to make sure that the tiefling did not leave the inn.
She raised her glass to take another sip of her wine, but paused as she heard a sound. It wasn’t much, just a soft thump that could have been anything, but it still had her rising from the booth. No one else in the common room had paid it any heed, and the bartender was polishing bottles, unaware or unconcerned.
Telling herself that it was probably nothing—one of the maids had probably dropped something—she headed toward the back of the inn. She paused to peek into the kitchen. It was strangely quiet. The lunch press was well past, and it was hours still until supper, but there still should have been at least someone there. She could see a large pot atop the stove, where the evening soup was simmering. It was possible that the cook had just stepped out for a moment, but she could not shake a feeling of unease as she made her way toward the back stairs.
She found Kavin on the landing halfway up between the second and third floors of the inn. One look at the angle that his head was lying told her that he was dead. His sword was halfway out of its scabbard, which suggested that his attacker had managed to catch him by surprise.
Glori drew her own sword as she made her way up the stairs. She now regretted leaving her lyre in her room, but she hummed a few notes under her breath, summoning her magic.
The landing at the top of the stairs was empty. She made her way carefully to the hallway that led to their rooms. The door leading to Xeeta’s room was slightly ajar. The room they shared, where she’d left her lyre when she’d come downstairs.
She continued cautiously ahead, sliding her feet forward to minimize the chance of making any sound. She reached the door and reached out slowly with her sword, using its tip to push it open further.
The room was empty.
A soft creak from behind caught her attention. She spun around, but had no time to react as a huge form hurtled down the hallway toward her. She tried to bring her sword up but before she could get into the stance that Bredan had drilled into her the figure slammed into her. She was flung backwards. Noise and light exploded around her as she hit the window. She felt the jarring cold and the patter of raindrops on her skin before a solid impact blasted away all other conscious thought.
“Miss, are you all right? Miss? Miss!”
Glori jolted back to consciousness as abruptly as she’d left it. She was cold and wet, and lying on her back in what she realized was the side yard of the inn. There were several people around her, staring at her with looks of concern on their faces. Her gaze traveled past them, up to the shattered remnants of the window high above from which she’d fallen.
“Xeeta,” she said, and tried to get up. That proved to be a mistake as her head exploded and her vision swam. As she tried to refocus her senses she could hear the voices of the bystanders.
“What happened, did she jump?”
“Get the Watch, someone call the Watch!”
“She’s hurt, better get a cleric…”
“I’m fine,” she said. This time she didn’t try to get up, but focused her thoughts and hummed a melody to summon her magic. She let out a gasp as the energies of a cure wounds spell poured into her. Her perceptions cleared, but that brought with it a fresh wave of pain as her remaining injuries reasserted themselves in her awareness. But it was enough for her to pull herself up.
Bits of wood and fabric clung to her, and she realized she’d landed in a pile of crates. That had probably saved her life. If she’d hit the cobblestones just a few steps to the left she probably would have broken her neck. The bystanders drew back, a few making a reflexive gesture against evil. Great, she thought, remembering Xeeta’s comments about the restrictions on spellcasting in Li Syval. Well, she would worry about that when the immediate emergency was over.
The innkeeper came rushing out from the side door of the inn. As his feet crunched on bits of broken glass, he glanced up at the broken window high above the courtyard. “What happened?” he asked.
“There’s been an attack, someone’s been murdered,” Glori said. “Better get the Watch.” She started back toward the inn. She looked around for her sword, but didn’t see it; it must not have made it through the window with her.
The innkeeper stared at her, a look of horror on his face. “Where are you going?” he asked.
Glori hesitated in the doorway. “I have to check on a friend,” she said.
The common room was astir as she made her way back inside. Someone in the kitchen called out to her as she passed, but she ignored them and once again ascended the stairs. She summoned her magic again as she hurried up the first flight, further easing her wounds. Their foe had handled her easily, and now she didn’t even have her sword. But she couldn’t leave Xeeta if there was even a small chance that she might still be there. She paused at Kavin’s body and drew his sword from its scabbard. Thus fortified, she returned to the hall. The floor there was already damp from the rain that had blown in through the broken window, but there was no one there.
She checked all of the rooms this time. There was no sign of Xeeta, or of their attacker. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, just a vague impression of size and bulk.
Her lyre was sitting where she had left it. She cradled it in her lap as she slumped onto her bed. She knew that she was going to have to talk fast very shortly, but for now she just sat on the end of the bed and took a deep, steadying breath.
A man was dead, and one of her friends was gone, taken. And for the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.
Glori sat alone in the common room of The Seaman’s Lament and sipped her wine. Majerion’s tutelage had included instruction on how to appreciate wine. This was a fine Siccarian vintage, crisp and fruity, but she was too distracted to give it its due.
She turned her head and scanned the room. The inn was even quieter than it had been when they’d first arrived in town two days ago. She was starting to get a feel for the place, and knew it would get busy once the afternoon shift at the docks let out and a small army of clerks, journeymen, and others with the coin to afford the Lament’s prices would descend upon the inn.
For the moment, the dozen or so patrons enjoyed their drinks in peace. The feel of a quiet common room grated on Glori’s sensibilities, and she was tempted to go up and fetch her lyre, to fill the chamber with music. But while the gilded instrument fit with her cover as the private player of the “rich foreign merchant,” such a person wouldn’t be playing tunes in a common room.
She turned back to the window and looked out into the street, but couldn’t see much through the streaks of rain that covered the glass. She was starting to feel stir-crazy from being cooped up here. She understood why it wouldn’t have been consistent for her to accompany Bredan and the others to meet with the Syvalian captain, and someone needed to stay here with Xeeta, but the forced inactivity was still difficult to deal with.
She’d asked Xeeta to join her for a drink, but the tiefling had refused. She was likely still distracted by the feelings wrought by her return to her homeland. Kavin had also turned down her offer. She suspected that the soldier had orders to make sure that the tiefling did not leave the inn.
She raised her glass to take another sip of her wine, but paused as she heard a sound. It wasn’t much, just a soft thump that could have been anything, but it still had her rising from the booth. No one else in the common room had paid it any heed, and the bartender was polishing bottles, unaware or unconcerned.
Telling herself that it was probably nothing—one of the maids had probably dropped something—she headed toward the back of the inn. She paused to peek into the kitchen. It was strangely quiet. The lunch press was well past, and it was hours still until supper, but there still should have been at least someone there. She could see a large pot atop the stove, where the evening soup was simmering. It was possible that the cook had just stepped out for a moment, but she could not shake a feeling of unease as she made her way toward the back stairs.
She found Kavin on the landing halfway up between the second and third floors of the inn. One look at the angle that his head was lying told her that he was dead. His sword was halfway out of its scabbard, which suggested that his attacker had managed to catch him by surprise.
Glori drew her own sword as she made her way up the stairs. She now regretted leaving her lyre in her room, but she hummed a few notes under her breath, summoning her magic.
The landing at the top of the stairs was empty. She made her way carefully to the hallway that led to their rooms. The door leading to Xeeta’s room was slightly ajar. The room they shared, where she’d left her lyre when she’d come downstairs.
She continued cautiously ahead, sliding her feet forward to minimize the chance of making any sound. She reached the door and reached out slowly with her sword, using its tip to push it open further.
The room was empty.
A soft creak from behind caught her attention. She spun around, but had no time to react as a huge form hurtled down the hallway toward her. She tried to bring her sword up but before she could get into the stance that Bredan had drilled into her the figure slammed into her. She was flung backwards. Noise and light exploded around her as she hit the window. She felt the jarring cold and the patter of raindrops on her skin before a solid impact blasted away all other conscious thought.
“Miss, are you all right? Miss? Miss!”
Glori jolted back to consciousness as abruptly as she’d left it. She was cold and wet, and lying on her back in what she realized was the side yard of the inn. There were several people around her, staring at her with looks of concern on their faces. Her gaze traveled past them, up to the shattered remnants of the window high above from which she’d fallen.
“Xeeta,” she said, and tried to get up. That proved to be a mistake as her head exploded and her vision swam. As she tried to refocus her senses she could hear the voices of the bystanders.
“What happened, did she jump?”
“Get the Watch, someone call the Watch!”
“She’s hurt, better get a cleric…”
“I’m fine,” she said. This time she didn’t try to get up, but focused her thoughts and hummed a melody to summon her magic. She let out a gasp as the energies of a cure wounds spell poured into her. Her perceptions cleared, but that brought with it a fresh wave of pain as her remaining injuries reasserted themselves in her awareness. But it was enough for her to pull herself up.
Bits of wood and fabric clung to her, and she realized she’d landed in a pile of crates. That had probably saved her life. If she’d hit the cobblestones just a few steps to the left she probably would have broken her neck. The bystanders drew back, a few making a reflexive gesture against evil. Great, she thought, remembering Xeeta’s comments about the restrictions on spellcasting in Li Syval. Well, she would worry about that when the immediate emergency was over.
The innkeeper came rushing out from the side door of the inn. As his feet crunched on bits of broken glass, he glanced up at the broken window high above the courtyard. “What happened?” he asked.
“There’s been an attack, someone’s been murdered,” Glori said. “Better get the Watch.” She started back toward the inn. She looked around for her sword, but didn’t see it; it must not have made it through the window with her.
The innkeeper stared at her, a look of horror on his face. “Where are you going?” he asked.
Glori hesitated in the doorway. “I have to check on a friend,” she said.
The common room was astir as she made her way back inside. Someone in the kitchen called out to her as she passed, but she ignored them and once again ascended the stairs. She summoned her magic again as she hurried up the first flight, further easing her wounds. Their foe had handled her easily, and now she didn’t even have her sword. But she couldn’t leave Xeeta if there was even a small chance that she might still be there. She paused at Kavin’s body and drew his sword from its scabbard. Thus fortified, she returned to the hall. The floor there was already damp from the rain that had blown in through the broken window, but there was no one there.
She checked all of the rooms this time. There was no sign of Xeeta, or of their attacker. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, just a vague impression of size and bulk.
Her lyre was sitting where she had left it. She cradled it in her lap as she slumped onto her bed. She knew that she was going to have to talk fast very shortly, but for now she just sat on the end of the bed and took a deep, steadying breath.
A man was dead, and one of her friends was gone, taken. And for the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 231
“It wasn’t your fault,” Quellan said.
“You were lucky that you weren’t killed by the fall,” Kosk said.
“Yeah, lucky,” Glori said.
The reunited companions were in the small private dining room at the back of the inn. A small fire had been started in the hearth, but it hadn’t yet taken the chill out of the room. Voices could be heard in the common room, where the officers of the Watch were taking statements from the witnesses who had been present.
Bredan was pacing back and forth. “You’re sure you didn’t see anything?”
“I’m sorry,” Glori said. “It all happened too fast. He was big, and quick.”
The hall door swung open and Kalasien came in. He didn’t speak until he had closed the door behind him and came over to where the others were gathered. “I think we have things covered with the Watch, though it took a considerable bribe to convince them to hand over Kavin’s body to us. I told him that it was a matter of religious ritual.”
“Did you learn anything from him?” Bredan asked Quellan.
“I only had a minute to examine him,” the cleric said. “But he bore several unusual wounds. There were two stab wounds, one of which was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Glori asked.
“I didn’t have enough time to determine the nature of the toxin,” Quellan said. “The other wound was deep. I found this.”
He held up a small object, which the others crowded around to examine. It was a small steel blade, lacking a handle but with a thick flange at the base for gripping.
“That looks like a throwing knife,” Kosk said. “Though I’ve not seen its like before.”
“That’s called a wedge,” Kalasien said. “A popular weapon of Syvalian assassins. You have to get fairly close to use it, however.”
“I thought his neck had been broken,” Bredan said.
“That was what ultimately killed him,” Quellan said. “But that was strange as well. All around the throat there were these black marks. As if the skin had been… killed, somehow.”
“Kavin was an experienced veteran,” Kalasien said. “It would not have been easy to sneak up on him.”
“The guy who pushed me out the window, he was quiet for his size,” Glori said. “He hid in Quellan and Kosk’s room and came at me from behind. I wouldn’t have heard him coming at all if the door hadn’t squeaked slightly.”
“We are fortunate that they did not linger to make certain of you,” Quellan said. He put his hand on her shoulder, and after a moment she reached up to squeeze it.
“Yeah, they didn’t even take my lyre, and it was sitting right there by my bed.”
“They were only interested in Xeeta,” Bredan said. “We have to find her.”
“We have a mission,” Kalasien said.
“We’re not leaving without her,” Bredan said.
“It’s a big city,” Kalasien said.
Bredan turned to Quellan and Glori. “You found me in Severon, which is even bigger than Li Syval. Can you do the same for Xeeta?”
Quellan nodded. “I have my locating spell, but I will need to rest and pray before I can use it. And its range is limited.”
“We’ll do our best,” Glori said.
“Do we have any idea who took her?” Kosk asked.
“It was the cult,” Bredan said. “It has to be the tiefling cult.”
“Didn’t Xeeta and Rodan say they were destroyed?” Glori asked.
“Maybe some of the leaders escaped,” Kosk said. “As Kalasien said, it’s a big city, plenty of places to hide.”
“We’ll finish the job,” Bredan said.
“If you’re intent on this,” Kalasien said, “I can help. I have some contacts among the city’s less… savory quarters. But be careful. If this draws the attention of the Ruling Council, it could draw trouble down on us that I would be powerless to stop. In that case the only option would be to run.”
“I understand,” Bredan said.
“Where are Haverd and Elias?” Glori asked.
“They’re getting our things together,” Kalasien said.
“We’re not staying here?” Quellan asked. “Do you think that the cult will try something else, now that they’ve gotten what they wanted?”
“We should welcome another attempt,” Kosk said. “Maybe we could catch one of them and make them talk.”
“It’s not the cult I’m worried about,” Kalasien said. “I’ve paid off the Watch, but there are plenty of other factions who would be interested in what happened here. Better if we just slip away and not be here in case someone comes around asking questions. I’ve got another place lined up, one where folks don’t ask strangers with gold any questions.”
“Let’s hope that purse of yours doesn’t run dry,” Kosk said.
“Yes,” Kalasien said, meeting the dwarf’s gaze squarely. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”
“We should be looking for her,” Bredan said. “The longer we wait, the longer the trail has to grow cold.”
“There’s nothing we can do until Quellan prepares his spells,” Glori said. “We won’t save her by rushing off blindly into a city that we don’t know.” She rose and put a hand on his arm. “We’ll find her, Bredan. I don’t like waiting any more than you. But we’ll find her.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Quellan said.
“You were lucky that you weren’t killed by the fall,” Kosk said.
“Yeah, lucky,” Glori said.
The reunited companions were in the small private dining room at the back of the inn. A small fire had been started in the hearth, but it hadn’t yet taken the chill out of the room. Voices could be heard in the common room, where the officers of the Watch were taking statements from the witnesses who had been present.
Bredan was pacing back and forth. “You’re sure you didn’t see anything?”
“I’m sorry,” Glori said. “It all happened too fast. He was big, and quick.”
The hall door swung open and Kalasien came in. He didn’t speak until he had closed the door behind him and came over to where the others were gathered. “I think we have things covered with the Watch, though it took a considerable bribe to convince them to hand over Kavin’s body to us. I told him that it was a matter of religious ritual.”
“Did you learn anything from him?” Bredan asked Quellan.
“I only had a minute to examine him,” the cleric said. “But he bore several unusual wounds. There were two stab wounds, one of which was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Glori asked.
“I didn’t have enough time to determine the nature of the toxin,” Quellan said. “The other wound was deep. I found this.”
He held up a small object, which the others crowded around to examine. It was a small steel blade, lacking a handle but with a thick flange at the base for gripping.
“That looks like a throwing knife,” Kosk said. “Though I’ve not seen its like before.”
“That’s called a wedge,” Kalasien said. “A popular weapon of Syvalian assassins. You have to get fairly close to use it, however.”
“I thought his neck had been broken,” Bredan said.
“That was what ultimately killed him,” Quellan said. “But that was strange as well. All around the throat there were these black marks. As if the skin had been… killed, somehow.”
“Kavin was an experienced veteran,” Kalasien said. “It would not have been easy to sneak up on him.”
“The guy who pushed me out the window, he was quiet for his size,” Glori said. “He hid in Quellan and Kosk’s room and came at me from behind. I wouldn’t have heard him coming at all if the door hadn’t squeaked slightly.”
“We are fortunate that they did not linger to make certain of you,” Quellan said. He put his hand on her shoulder, and after a moment she reached up to squeeze it.
“Yeah, they didn’t even take my lyre, and it was sitting right there by my bed.”
“They were only interested in Xeeta,” Bredan said. “We have to find her.”
“We have a mission,” Kalasien said.
“We’re not leaving without her,” Bredan said.
“It’s a big city,” Kalasien said.
Bredan turned to Quellan and Glori. “You found me in Severon, which is even bigger than Li Syval. Can you do the same for Xeeta?”
Quellan nodded. “I have my locating spell, but I will need to rest and pray before I can use it. And its range is limited.”
“We’ll do our best,” Glori said.
“Do we have any idea who took her?” Kosk asked.
“It was the cult,” Bredan said. “It has to be the tiefling cult.”
“Didn’t Xeeta and Rodan say they were destroyed?” Glori asked.
“Maybe some of the leaders escaped,” Kosk said. “As Kalasien said, it’s a big city, plenty of places to hide.”
“We’ll finish the job,” Bredan said.
“If you’re intent on this,” Kalasien said, “I can help. I have some contacts among the city’s less… savory quarters. But be careful. If this draws the attention of the Ruling Council, it could draw trouble down on us that I would be powerless to stop. In that case the only option would be to run.”
“I understand,” Bredan said.
“Where are Haverd and Elias?” Glori asked.
“They’re getting our things together,” Kalasien said.
“We’re not staying here?” Quellan asked. “Do you think that the cult will try something else, now that they’ve gotten what they wanted?”
“We should welcome another attempt,” Kosk said. “Maybe we could catch one of them and make them talk.”
“It’s not the cult I’m worried about,” Kalasien said. “I’ve paid off the Watch, but there are plenty of other factions who would be interested in what happened here. Better if we just slip away and not be here in case someone comes around asking questions. I’ve got another place lined up, one where folks don’t ask strangers with gold any questions.”
“Let’s hope that purse of yours doesn’t run dry,” Kosk said.
“Yes,” Kalasien said, meeting the dwarf’s gaze squarely. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”
“We should be looking for her,” Bredan said. “The longer we wait, the longer the trail has to grow cold.”
“There’s nothing we can do until Quellan prepares his spells,” Glori said. “We won’t save her by rushing off blindly into a city that we don’t know.” She rose and put a hand on his arm. “We’ll find her, Bredan. I don’t like waiting any more than you. But we’ll find her.”
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 232
Xeeta woke in a dank stone chamber. A foul odor assaulted her nostrils, but the smell was quickly overwhelmed by a sharp spike of pain as she tried to lift her head. She groaned and tried to get a better look at her surroundings without moving.
It was dark, but her tiefling heritage allowed her to make out details of the chamber. Not that there was much to see. There was one exit, a narrow opening in one wall that was warded by a heavy iron gate. An iron pipe as thick around as her waist emerged from one wall and exited via the opposite. It was heavily flaked with rust but looked no less solid for it.
She tried again to get up, slowly shifting her hands to support her. That was when she realized that she was restrained. That recognition overcame her pain, and she scrambled up, ignoring the angry pulses of protest inside her skull. She was secured by shackles that linked to a chain that circled around the pipe. A second chain attached to an iron cuff wrapped tight around her neck.
A guttural sound came from her throat as she yanked hard on the chains. Panic gave her strength, but the chains were so thick that even Quellan would not have been able to part them with raw strength alone. The thought of her friends allowed some hint of clarity to slip back into her mind. She released the chains and turned to her magic. For a moment she feared that her captors had done something to restrict her powers, but then she felt a surge of relief as the Demon stirred within her.
Her first effort was an alter self spell. She shifted her form to become taller and leaner. With an effort she was able to slip the shackles off her wrists, ignoring the fresh pains as the metal edges scraped her skin. She turned to the band around her neck, but while it had loosened there was no way she could get it over her head. She pushed the spell as far as she could, until she could feel the bones grinding in her head, but it was no use. Defeated, she slumped back to the floor, resuming her normal form.
She had no idea how long she sat there like that, but eventually a sound drew her attention up. It had come from the direction of the gate. She shuffled as far as the chain would allow her in that direction, but the sound was not repeated.
She slid the loose chain from around the pipe. The manacles at the ends gave them decent weight, but they would be useless as a weapon if she could not get free of the neck shackle. She considered pulling the chain taut and striking it with one of the manacles, but realized that the sound of metal striking metal would echo throughout this place. She suspected that she was somewhere in the sewers under Li Syval. She had spent some time in those foul tunnels while working for the cult, but she did not recognize this particular location. With luck, she’d be able to get her bearings once she was out of this cell.
She pulled on the chain and held it tight against the pipe. She summoned her magic and unleashed a stream of fire against it. The flames surged against the iron, searing away flakes of rust, filling the room with heat. Smoke swirled around her but she kept on, sharpening her focus until the fire roared like an angry beast. The chain and the surrounding pipe began to glow, and she could feel the heat swelling in the hand holding the chain. She let it go, using just the tension of the manacle around her neck to keep the chain taut. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Still she kept up the flame. She poured everything she had from her reservoir into the assault, until the band around her neck began to sear against her flesh. She yanked back, trying to part the heated chain, but it held. She lifted the loose chain to strike, but she hesitated as she felt something else stirring within her. It was the Demon, called by the swelling of her magic, eager to be set free.
Sudden panic filled her and she released the flames. She fell to the floor, coughing, trying to ignore the pain of her burned neck.
“Impressive,” came a voice from the grate. “Truly, you have grown.”
She spun reflexively and hurled a fire bolt that streaked toward the exit. Her cast had been accurate, but as the burning streak approached the iron bars it suddenly dissolved into nothing.
“Kalev,” she breathed. “I thought you were dead.”
“I survived,” he said. “No thanks to you and your friends.”
“I dreamed of your death,” she said. “I pictured a hundred scenarios where you met the fate you have earned.”
“The circle was broken,” he said, “But I held on, lived on through the long aftermath unleashed by your betrayal. I knew, you see. Knew you or one of your escaped kin would return here one day. You are part of us, and we are part of you. When I felt you start to draw close, I knew that our hour of rebirth was upon us.”
She recoiled from his words, but forced herself to remain alert, to look for any opening that might present itself. She could vaguely sense the protective aura that surrounded him, the field that had disrupted her spell. That was potent magic indeed, and beyond what she remembered from before. That meant that she could not rely upon her memory of the arcanist’s capabilities.
“The one who hit me,” she said. “That was Toros, wasn’t it? He’s still here, with you?”
“Toros, yes, and Vesca as well. They remained loyal. They were not ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful?” she asked. “How you can use that word without choking on it is a mystery to me. You tortured us, trained us to be your tools, your weapons. That was all we were to you.”
“Such a narrow view,” he told her. “I remember you as always being incapable of comprehending the greater truth, Xeeta. We birthed you, we brought you into this world. It was our guidance that helped you to reach your full potential. Surely you have learned this truth in your time in the world outside Li Syval. You are superior to the so-called civilized folk of Voralis. You are Blooded, destined to be rulers of these lands.”
“You call us rulers, I call us slaves. You cared about us only insofar as we increased your power.”
“You still do not understand, but I see that you will not believe me. But it does not matter. Your coming here, it means so much. Your return will allow the project to be reborn. I have learned much since the day you left us. You will help us reach new heights.”
“I will never help you,” she said.
“Why, my dear… you’ve helped so much already, just by coming here. As for the rest, well, your active cooperation is not necessary.”
Xeeta surged up and pulled hard on her chains, but they still refused to give. She extended a hand toward the gate, summoning her magic in a vague hope that she could somehow overcome Kalev’s ward. But he was already spellcasting, and as he held his hand out she could see sand sifting out from between his fingers. She tried to resist, tried to overcome the magic of his spell, but there was no escape as she slowly slumped to the hard floor and drifted into the cold embrace of sleep.
Xeeta woke in a dank stone chamber. A foul odor assaulted her nostrils, but the smell was quickly overwhelmed by a sharp spike of pain as she tried to lift her head. She groaned and tried to get a better look at her surroundings without moving.
It was dark, but her tiefling heritage allowed her to make out details of the chamber. Not that there was much to see. There was one exit, a narrow opening in one wall that was warded by a heavy iron gate. An iron pipe as thick around as her waist emerged from one wall and exited via the opposite. It was heavily flaked with rust but looked no less solid for it.
She tried again to get up, slowly shifting her hands to support her. That was when she realized that she was restrained. That recognition overcame her pain, and she scrambled up, ignoring the angry pulses of protest inside her skull. She was secured by shackles that linked to a chain that circled around the pipe. A second chain attached to an iron cuff wrapped tight around her neck.
A guttural sound came from her throat as she yanked hard on the chains. Panic gave her strength, but the chains were so thick that even Quellan would not have been able to part them with raw strength alone. The thought of her friends allowed some hint of clarity to slip back into her mind. She released the chains and turned to her magic. For a moment she feared that her captors had done something to restrict her powers, but then she felt a surge of relief as the Demon stirred within her.
Her first effort was an alter self spell. She shifted her form to become taller and leaner. With an effort she was able to slip the shackles off her wrists, ignoring the fresh pains as the metal edges scraped her skin. She turned to the band around her neck, but while it had loosened there was no way she could get it over her head. She pushed the spell as far as she could, until she could feel the bones grinding in her head, but it was no use. Defeated, she slumped back to the floor, resuming her normal form.
She had no idea how long she sat there like that, but eventually a sound drew her attention up. It had come from the direction of the gate. She shuffled as far as the chain would allow her in that direction, but the sound was not repeated.
She slid the loose chain from around the pipe. The manacles at the ends gave them decent weight, but they would be useless as a weapon if she could not get free of the neck shackle. She considered pulling the chain taut and striking it with one of the manacles, but realized that the sound of metal striking metal would echo throughout this place. She suspected that she was somewhere in the sewers under Li Syval. She had spent some time in those foul tunnels while working for the cult, but she did not recognize this particular location. With luck, she’d be able to get her bearings once she was out of this cell.
She pulled on the chain and held it tight against the pipe. She summoned her magic and unleashed a stream of fire against it. The flames surged against the iron, searing away flakes of rust, filling the room with heat. Smoke swirled around her but she kept on, sharpening her focus until the fire roared like an angry beast. The chain and the surrounding pipe began to glow, and she could feel the heat swelling in the hand holding the chain. She let it go, using just the tension of the manacle around her neck to keep the chain taut. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Still she kept up the flame. She poured everything she had from her reservoir into the assault, until the band around her neck began to sear against her flesh. She yanked back, trying to part the heated chain, but it held. She lifted the loose chain to strike, but she hesitated as she felt something else stirring within her. It was the Demon, called by the swelling of her magic, eager to be set free.
Sudden panic filled her and she released the flames. She fell to the floor, coughing, trying to ignore the pain of her burned neck.
“Impressive,” came a voice from the grate. “Truly, you have grown.”
She spun reflexively and hurled a fire bolt that streaked toward the exit. Her cast had been accurate, but as the burning streak approached the iron bars it suddenly dissolved into nothing.
“Kalev,” she breathed. “I thought you were dead.”
“I survived,” he said. “No thanks to you and your friends.”
“I dreamed of your death,” she said. “I pictured a hundred scenarios where you met the fate you have earned.”
“The circle was broken,” he said, “But I held on, lived on through the long aftermath unleashed by your betrayal. I knew, you see. Knew you or one of your escaped kin would return here one day. You are part of us, and we are part of you. When I felt you start to draw close, I knew that our hour of rebirth was upon us.”
She recoiled from his words, but forced herself to remain alert, to look for any opening that might present itself. She could vaguely sense the protective aura that surrounded him, the field that had disrupted her spell. That was potent magic indeed, and beyond what she remembered from before. That meant that she could not rely upon her memory of the arcanist’s capabilities.
“The one who hit me,” she said. “That was Toros, wasn’t it? He’s still here, with you?”
“Toros, yes, and Vesca as well. They remained loyal. They were not ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful?” she asked. “How you can use that word without choking on it is a mystery to me. You tortured us, trained us to be your tools, your weapons. That was all we were to you.”
“Such a narrow view,” he told her. “I remember you as always being incapable of comprehending the greater truth, Xeeta. We birthed you, we brought you into this world. It was our guidance that helped you to reach your full potential. Surely you have learned this truth in your time in the world outside Li Syval. You are superior to the so-called civilized folk of Voralis. You are Blooded, destined to be rulers of these lands.”
“You call us rulers, I call us slaves. You cared about us only insofar as we increased your power.”
“You still do not understand, but I see that you will not believe me. But it does not matter. Your coming here, it means so much. Your return will allow the project to be reborn. I have learned much since the day you left us. You will help us reach new heights.”
“I will never help you,” she said.
“Why, my dear… you’ve helped so much already, just by coming here. As for the rest, well, your active cooperation is not necessary.”
Xeeta surged up and pulled hard on her chains, but they still refused to give. She extended a hand toward the gate, summoning her magic in a vague hope that she could somehow overcome Kalev’s ward. But he was already spellcasting, and as he held his hand out she could see sand sifting out from between his fingers. She tried to resist, tried to overcome the magic of his spell, but there was no escape as she slowly slumped to the hard floor and drifted into the cold embrace of sleep.
