Sailing

It took a day for the Fortune’s Favor to be made ready, and for the cargo already loaded to be moved back into the bonding house. As predicted, Captain Levtor was not happy at the overturning of his carefully planned trading schedule, but his opinion of the venture changed when he learned of the possibility of gaining a foothold in the trade with the Sea Folk.

“A lucrative trade,” he smiled when Vulk wold him what the Guildmistress had offered. “One I had dreamed of getting into in my younger days, and well worth a brief delay… yes, possibly well worth it!”

With preparations made and the ship ready to sail on the morning tide, Devrik suddenly announced to his friends that he would not be going.

“I’m sorry,” he said as they sat to breakfast, “but I cannot leave Raven and our unborn son alone and unguarded, not with that madman still loose.”

“But Devrik,” said Mariala in dismay, “we need you! And Black Hawk is here – he can surely keep his sister safe.”

“Not notably so far,” Devrik snorted. “And in any case, he is not yet fully healed from his injuries… nor does he really understand the dangers of a town, even a small one like Devok. No, I am decided – my place is with my woman, at least for now.”

“Are you turning down the… Their… offer then?” Vulk asked quietly.

“No, not at all… but they did make clear our participation was voluntary, did they not? Once my son is born and Kirdik Hanol is safely in his grave, then I will be happy to undertake any tasks the… They… might have for me.”

No amount of argument could sway him, and there was little time for it in any case. The three remaining companions grabbed their packs and headed for the docks and their waiting ship, as Devrik watched them go from the window in his room. He turned as Raven came up behind him.

“Devrik…”

♦

The day was a fine one for sailing, and in just a few hours Oessa Island appeared before their prow. A lush, green island, it’s interior rose from often rocky shores to a ridge of broken peaks from which numerous waterfalls could be seen plunging into the foothills. They rounded the northernmost point of the island and sailed down its eastern coast toward the sheltered harbor of Port Kethim. They rounded the headland of Stingray Point in the early afternoon and sailed into Keth Bay.

This was a broad sweep of blue water enclosed by rugged arms of granite, at the head of with lay the small town of Port Kethim. Gray-green peaks rose breathtakingly behind the blue and green tiled roofs clustered near the water. Trees dotted the cliff tops of the bay’s arms, and thick forests lay on either side of the town.

The town itself was rather overwhelmed by its magnifient quay – a crescent of white stone and pink coral whose arms stretched into the bay and emcompassed a span some 150 meters across. At the end of each arm were towers of the same white stone, each 20 meters tall and set with a beacon of brass and crystal. At the center of the great arc of the quay was a circular pier of stone, perhaps 30 meters across, within which lay a pool 12 meters in diameter.

Pillars of white marble, veined with seafoam green, surrounded the Trading Pool, as it was called, and supported a great dome of pale green coral. Atop this dome was a tremendous beacon, again of brass and crystal, that shone out more than 40 meters above the waters. The whole structure was amazingly beautiful.

Beyond the white stone of the Great Quay stood a series of low warehouses, and beyond them rose the rooftops of the town proper, consisting of maybe twenty buildings. Between the town and the begining of the forested hills rising up to the inland peaks could be seen cultivated fields and several fine orchards.

But as they neared the quay, watching eagerly from the rails, the town seemed stangely empty. If not for the smoke from numerous chimneys they might have thougt the place desserted. Eventually a handful of men appeared from within the town and, under the direction of a well-dressed portly man of middle years, grabbed the ropes the crew threw out and made fast the ship to the quay.

Once of the ship the companions and Captain Levtor approached the Port Master (for such the portly gentleman proved to be) and introduced themselves. At first oddly frosty and discouraging, he turned first pale and then nervously polite once they presented their credentials from Guildmistress Alvar and made plain their writ to investigate the Tritani matter.

“The docks are no place for such discussions,” he said, glancing about nervously. “Let me offer you the comfort of my home and office.”

Again with nervous glances all around he sheparded the three friends away from their ship, while Captain Levtor frowned and returned to her.

The Port Master’s home and office were in a tall four-story building of white stone directly behind the pillared dome of the Trading Pool. It had a roof of teal green tiles, and as they approached they could see that a graceful arch of stone connected the roof to the base of the dome – no doubt to give access to the great beacon.

Inside the Port Master’s home they were escorted to his private quarters, where he offered them refreshment and a history of the town and generally seemed to try to avoid the purpose of their visit. Drake noted the toys scattered about the place, and yet neither saw nor heard any other sign of children…

“Enough, Master Edigar!” said Vulk at last. “It’s time we got down to the business that brings us to your no doubt fascinating and historical town. What do you know about the failure of the Tritani to arrive for the Spring Sea Fair?”