8-14 Metisto 3020
After a memorable and informative breakfast with Captain Tafas in the wardroom of the Queen Ariela, the bulk of the day after the final battle with the Mi-Go and their human thralls was spent in meetings with the Prince Palatine and his advisors. In fact, it took several days to entirely wrap up all the loose ends involved, to the satisfaction of the Prince. One of the last bones of contention to be resolved was the fate of the six surviving alien weapons.
“I really must insist that the Imperium retain possession of these infernal devices,” Prince Rapareth finally ended the debate. “We appreciate all that you have done Cantor Ser Vulk, you and all of your companions. But these devices are simply too powerful to be allowed to drift about the world, much less the Empire, unguarded.”
“They would hardly be unguarded, your Highness,” Vulk objected. “As I think we’ve amply demonstrated, we are capable of protecting them. And we haven’t yet even figured out how to make them work, so it is not as if they could be casually used, even if one were to fall into the wrong hands.
“But, we understand your Highness’ point,” he continued at the Prince’s frown. “You’ve indicated that it is the wish of Lord Kavyn, the Imperial Myrmytron, and of his Imperial Majesty himself, that these should be taken for study in Avantir. We, of course, would not dream of gainsaying such authority. Therefore, we relinquish our claim on the devices, and turn them over herewith.”
Devrik stepped forward and set a largish iron-bound box of oak on the table before the Prince. He handed the major domo, Karl Esfantor, an iron key and stepped back. It had in fact been the major domo, a fellow agent of the Star Council, who had convinced the Hand to relinquish their claim on the weapons. The servant opened the box, revealing the six silvery disintegration pistols, set in form-fitting indentations of blue velvet. The Prince nodded, then cocked an eye at Vulk.
“Reports of my agents indicate there were seven of these things,” he said mildly. “Yet here I see only six.”
“There may have been seven, your Highness,” Vulk agreed diffidently. “In the myriad confusions of that day, it’s hard to be sure. There were the three we recovered from the triple ambush, two were recovered from the Bonding House battle, and finally there was the leader’s weapon, recovered from the Azure Rose. If there was another, we have not found it, though we searched for it. As did your own agents, I believe, your Highness?”
“Indeed. I had men going over every inch of the Bonding House yard, the docks, and every street and alley between the two places. They practically dismantled that flophouse where the last of the enthralled dock workers had been housed. If a seventh weapon existed, I suppose it may have gone into the harbor, during the final confrontation around and aboard the Azure Rose… I have divers searching, of course, but so far nothing. Ah well, we may never know, I suppose.”
Vulk bowed in agreement, and after a few last pleasantries, he, Devrik, and Mariala departed the palace. “Now perhaps we can focus on selling our cargo,” he sighed in relief. Mariala agreed, but Devrik seemed sunk in his own thoughts and didn’t indicate he’d heard…
∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆
Korwin had absented himself from all of the meetings at the palace, after that first mid-morning debriefing on the day of the last battle with the aliens and their thralls. After finally explaining his reasons for fleeing the Empire to his companions, they now understood his reluctance to draw more official attention to himself than was absolutely necessary. They were more than willing to help him in the endeavor, making excuses as needed to explain his absence. In any case, someone had to take care of the repairs on the Wind of Kasira, and re-crewing her, and he was the natural choice.
Two days after the battle of the docks, on the 7th of Metisto, Korwin and Mate Grünby spent the morning at the Seaman’s Guildhall, recruiting new crew members. They had accepted three candidates, from the dozen or so who had applied, and were just leaving to find a decent tavern for lunch, when Korwin heard his name called out. He turned in sudden fear, ready to bolt if it was some Imperial soldier wanting to arrest him – and then let out a surprised bark of laughter.
“Rathir! Belith! What in the name of Tyvos the Mighty are you two doing here?” he cried, embracing his older cousin enthusiastically, and then his son. The two men returned the greeting just as enthusiastically, grinning and back-slapping as Yonas looked on in bemusement.
“Well, we’re here on business, of course,” Rathir K’Jorul replied. He was a tall man, with dark hair, graying at the temples, and gray eyes. He was the nephew of Korwin’s adopted mother, and currently the head of a successful trading family out of the Kunya-Kehsdan city of Tem-Nathar. “But the real question, cousin, is what are you doing here? Last we’d heard…” his smile faltered for a moment, and he looked doubtful. “That is, the news that reached us…”
“Was not good, I’m sure,” Korwin finished for him, with a heavy sigh. “But I assure you, whatever you heard, it’s likely not true. It’s a long story, but I’m glad for the chance to explain it all to you… we were just headed to find some lunch – oh, I’m sorry, this is Yonas Grünby, Mate to my role of acting Captain aboard the Wind of Kasira. Yonas, my cousin Master Trader Rathir K’Jorul and his son, Captain Belith K’Jorul.” The three men exchanged handshakes and the usual courtesies.
“But Korwin, you say you are Captain of that amazing ship that’s been the talk of the city the last several days?” Belith asked. He was two years older than his cousin, as dark-haired as his father but lacking the gray, and possessed of hazel eyes. Taller than his father by a head, he had a heavy, very fit build, and voice that commanded men and made women swoon. Korwin loved him like a bother, but had always been just a little envious of his good looks. “The most outrageous stories have been circulating, which I’ve been discounting for the most part… but if you’re involved, cousin, then perhaps I was wrong! We’ve even been down to look at her ourselves, haven’t we Father?”
“Yes, and I have so say, I’ve never seen a ship like her before,” the older K’Jorul agreed. “Nothing drastically different, and yet… not quite like anything else. That figurehead, though… might scare off the pirates, I suppose! But seriously, how do you come to captain such a vessel, Korwin, and what of these wild tales..?”
“As I said, it’s all a long story… if I’m going back to when I left the Empire, quite a long story. Do you have time to join us for a meal and a pint, cousins?”
As it happened, they did have the time, having recently concluded their business in the city, and being at loose ends until their ship sailed on the evening tide. Rathir directed them to an unassuming building that proved to house a surprisingly upscale public house, clearly the haunt of merchants, traders and ship owners. The food at the Silver Chalice was exceptional, and there were several more than just a single pint before Korwin had finished giving his relatives the broad outlines of the last year or two of his life.
He’d been forced to leave out any mention of the Star Council, of course, and tried to downplay the more uncanny aspects of some of his adventures with the Hand of Fortune, but there was enough left to make a good yarn. He refused to downplay the recent events on Arapet, however, feeling his cousins deserved to know truth about what might still be lurking out there… they thought they’d rooted out the infestation, but then they’d believed that before, on Arapet…
Both Rathir and Belith had serious looks on their faces as he finally wrapped up his tale with a recounting of the battle on the docks two days earlier. “And now we’re trying to hire a crew and proper captain for the Wind, so we can return to Ukalus and our various responsibilities there.” Korwin took a deep swallow from his ale… tale-spinning was thirsty work.
“But Korwin, now that you’re back in the Empire, shouldn’t you be clearing your name?” Rathir said. “I mean, it’s all well and good to have the confidence of a king and queen, even of some distant, feudal realm, I suppose. But you can’t let that scheming nobleman drive you from your proper place in the Empire!”
“Or, if you’re truly willing to give up on Oceania, you can come to Tem-Nathar,” Belith added. “We can certainly find you a place in the family business, right Father? And a water mage is always in demand at sea.” He turned to Yonas, who had sat mostly silent through the meal and long tale, only occasionally adding a laconic confirmation to some part of the recent events he’d been a part of. “Did he ever tell you of the time – what, five years ago now, I suppose – when he and his master saved my first command from the Keldan pirates?”
The mate allowed as how he hadn’t heard the tale, and Belith proceeded to regale him with the lurid story. Korwin pretended to object, saying it had been nothing, but he was secretly pleased that his cousin remembered it so vividly. Truth be told, it had mainly been his master’s magics that had turned the tide, as it were – he’d been an apprentice then – but his own little flourish with the whirlpool had certainly played a part there at the end.
The afternoon was wearing on as the meal finally came to an end, and the K’Jorul’s had to think about getting back to their ship, but the elder trader raised a hand as Korwin reached for his purse. “No, no, lad, the meal is on me… the tale you spun was more than worth the cost. But before we part, I have an offer to make you.
“What do you say to selling the Wind of Kasira? It would make a spectacular addition to the family’s fleet, and I’m in a position right now to offer you and your friends a generous price for her. Plus passage on our fastest ship back to the eastern lands, if that’s what you all want – or for them alone, if you decide to stay, cousin.”
“Ah, an interesting offer, cousin,” Korwin replied thoughtfully. “But I doubt my friends would agree to such an arrangement. There are… complications I can’t explain, but… no, I think I know their answer. But I can certainly ask, of course.”
“Hmmm, well I thought that might be your answer, and really I can hardly blame you. It is a simply magnificent ship!” Rathir paused, looking down at the table for a moment. When he looked back up his eyes were calculating. “But you say you’re looking for a captain, as well as a crew? What about this – take Belith on as your captain, and give the family the right of first refusal if and when you and your companions decide to sell the vessel. I’d even be prepared to lease her, if it came down to it, although on somewhat less generous terms, of course.”
“Of course,” Korwin said, smiling. “That might actually be attractive to the Hand, the right of first refusal thing, not necessarily the leasing. Although maybe that too, once they were all back home. And Tyvos knows, I’d love to have Belith aboard as our captain! I can fill the role, but I just don’t have the experience… or the temperament, truth be told… to fill it well.”
The next half hour was spent hammering out the terms of Belith’s contract as captain of the Wind of Kasira, to the satisfaction of all parties. Yonas said little, but he was satisfied too… he liked the little blue water wizard well enough, but he had worried about his ability to command a seasoned crew at sea, as opposed to the little jaunt they’d just taken with a crew of lubbers. He knew the K’Jorul family by reputation – it was generally a good one – and he’d been impressed over the last several hours by the men themselves. He was sure the young master would be up to the task, and that was a relief, to be sure.
“Well, I must retrieve my duffle from the Sea Wolf,” Belith said as they prepared to go their separate ways outside the Silver Chalice. “I’ll meet you and Mate Grünby at the Wind of Kasira at, let’s say the first turn of the Dragon watch?”
Too late in the day to do any more hiring, Korwin and Yonas headed back to their ship, Korwin smiling to himself. He was truly fond of his cousin, and excited to have him aboard, but he was also looking forward to Vulk’s reaction. Belith was nearly as tall as the Kasiran cantor, and perhaps even prettier… and Korwin knew his friend would love that hairy chest! But he also knew his cousin was the rare but not unheard of man who had eyes strictly for the women. One way or the other, this should be fun…
∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆
Over the next six days Korwin ceded the task of finding a crew to his cousin, with good will. Belith and Yonas would leave each morning for the Seaman’s Guildhall, and return in the afternoon with a new lot of men. Korwin and a few of the others made an occasional spot check the first day or two, but when it was clear their new captain knew what he was doing, they left him to it.
Devrik was not one of the Hand who concerned himself with how the new captain was doing. He’d met the man that first night, over dinner, and had liked him well enough, as had everyone else. But the fire mage was very much focused on only one thing at the moment, and he spent many hours a day secluded either in his cabin or down in the always-burning forge on the lowest deck of the ship. As the crew roster filled out, his friends made sure that everyone knew not to disturb him and never, under any circumstances, to interfere with the fire in that forge.
Ever since the events on Arapet Devrik had been developing a spell he had long contemplated, but until now not been motivated to pursue. The time and effort involved were considerable, and he had not previously seen much utility for it. But now, with their distant exile and Mariala’s supply of entangled paper running very low, both on this end and the supply they’d left with their friends and family at home, it took on new urgency.
The Far-flung Fire Flame One™ spell, as he’d mentally dubbed it, was a variation and hybridization of several other spells. It would allow two-way communication between widely separated sources of flame, both visual and auditory. He had initially been able to unite two flames about 8 kilometers apart, but that was not remotely what he sought. Everyday, spending at least an hour in deep meditation and intense concentration, he had managed to double the range. Each new remote fire source, be it a peasant’s hearth fire, a burning shrubbery on a wilderness mountain, or a cooking fire on a ship at sea, became the anchor for the next doubling. But he must maintain the fire he had started with – if it ever went out, he would have to start again.
Similarly, if the remote fire was extinguished before he could use it to leap to the next flame, twice as far away, that too would force him back to the beginning. Fortunately, most human-made fires tended to be kept burning, and it wasn’t a problem to rest between castings. The burning shrub on the mountain, however, had been a natural event, no doubt ignited by a lightning strike. He couldn’t risk that it would still be there in twelve hours, and he’d been forced to do a double shift so as not lose all his progress. It had exhausted him, and he was pretty sure he had freaked out the old man he’d briefly spoken to through the flames… but it had worked.
On the 10th of Metisto he finally achieved his ultimate goal with the spell, making contact with the hearth fire in Raven’s quarters at Kar Gevdan. It had been worth all the exhaustion, lost sleep, and strain just to see his wife’s reaction when his bust, in living flame, appeared in her fireplace and spoke to her. Once she had calmed down and finished cursing him out for startling her so – “I most certainly was not frightened, husband! I am a Hunter of the Great Marsh, and I bear the Spearmark… I was merely startled.” – they quickly fell into a talk, sharing all that had happened with themselves in the month since they’d last been together.
Devrik admitted that the strange, precious year they had spent in that mysterious bubble of altered time, in the dead city of Xaranda*, had spoiled him more than a little. Especially the joys of watching their son grow older. “Perhaps it’s time I followed Draik’s lead, and give up this adventuring life, retire to spend his days raising their family with her.
“Oh, my dear husband,” Raven had laughed, her flame-construct head showing every crinkle around her eyes in a thousand shades of orange, yellow, and red. “You’d die of boredom within a year! The only reason you stayed sane in that strange, timeless place for so long was because you had the mystery of our imprisonment to solve, a quest to free us and return us to where we belonged. I fear your memory is playing tricks on you, if you imagine you were content in that bucolic trap.
“Yes, we both made the best of it, and I treasure that mostly-uninterrupted time we had together… I know Aldari certainly adored having so much of his Da’s time. You were there for his first steps, and his first words, as you might not have been in the true flow of time… who knows for sure?
“But there wasn’t a day when you weren’t gnawing at the puzzle, seeking the solution, fighting (and remember, not always just in thought) to break the spell that held us there. You’d not have that in the real world, my love, and you’d not be happy for long without a real challenge, one of life and death. Maybe someday, but not now, not in the prime of your life, with important work yet ahead of you. And I am content with that, even as I miss you.”
Devrik wanted to argue the point, but in his heart he knew she was right. He was torn between his love for her and Aldari, and his love for the life he led in the Hand of Fortune and as an agent of the Star Council. But until now, he’d never been away for more than a month or two; this time, the separation promised to be much longer.
“How do you feel about you and Aldari joining me here, in the Ocean Empire. I have no idea how long it will take us to get home, but if I had you with me, it wouldn’t really matter. And I hear travel is good for the young, broadens the mind and all.”
“And how would we accomplish this feat, love? I thought travel through the Gates was too dangerous still, else you’d be home yourself by now.”
“Too dangerous for us in the Hand,” he agreed. “We know that Vortex bitch can snatch us, even if we don’t yet know for sure how. But Vetaris agrees that it is unlikely she can seize just any random person, at any given time. He agrees that it should be safe for you to travel out, even if we can’t yet travel back. And it’s a very large ship, it should be safe as houses here for you both.”
“Around the Hand of Fortune?” Raven laughed again, her flame image flickering with her amusement. “Unlikely! But I’d still trust our friends, and you, and my own skill, to keep our son safe. So say on, my husband, how may we make this idea of yours come true?”
∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆
While Devrik had immersed himself in his attempts to reach his wife, Toran and Erol had also spent much of their time deep in their own arcane studies. The Guild of Arcane Lore had a modest but fairly comprehensive library in Tishton, and they both took advantage of it. Toran sought a way to increase the damage done by his weapons, especially the subtler thrown weapons such as his taburi and shuriken. He had seen similar effects demonstrated by the monks at the hidden monastery of his training, and was certain he could create something similar.
On the night of the 10th, the same night on which Devrik finally broke though to his wife, Toran succeeded in the first casting of his new Iron Sting spell. It imbued any iron weapon with an energy that was released on throwing, more than doubling the damage the weapon could inflict on a target. Still not going to take the place of his battle-axe, of course, but in the right time and place, it could make a difference.
Erol had less immediate luck with his own spell development, but then he sought to move considerably greater forces. Given their reliance, for the foreseeable future, on a sailing ship for transportation, it had struck him as wise to focus his energies on a spell, or spells, to command the winds. He knew, in theory, much about such powers, but his memories of the great Asakora were growing ever dimmer, and he was forced to rely more and more on actual study… and practical research. The Tishton Guild’s resources proved helpful, but the biggest stumbling block remained experimentation and practical tests of his theories.
No one aboard the Wind of Kasira was anxious to have him experiment while they were at sea, and on land there were few enough places to risk it either. Bringing a tornado down in a heavily populated area was unlikely to win him any friends. Still, he found a spot not far outside the city walls, on a headland overlooking the sea, that let him test out various ideas… and he quickly learned that he’d been wise to take that precaution. It was unlikely anyone would miss that particular section of cliff face, he was certain…
Still, even failures taught you something, and by the time they were ready to sail, he was quite certain he’d be ready for more controlled experiments at sea. Just maybe not when anyone else was around to witness them… plausible deniability, if not by that name, was something he understood instinctively. And he was making progress, it was just a matter of time.
Meanwhile the hiring of the crew went on apace. Each day the ranks grew, and Mate Yonas had more and more to do. The new sail had been put in place within a few days, using some of the store of the strange, very strong canvas already in the Wind’s hold. Similarly, cordage and spars had been available from the existing stores, although he did wonder what the effect would be when they eventually ran out of the alien materials. Still, they were exceptionally durable, so it might be awhile before they had to deal with that problem.
Piet “Stinky” Garhan, and his twin brother Yon “Badger” Garhan, the first of the new hires he and Korwin had made that first day in port, were proving themselves a good investment, especially when allowed to work together… separately each was a decent enough seaman, no complaints there. But put them together, and it was as if they became one mind with four hands. Yonas swore the two of them accomplished the work of three when yoked in unison.
On the 11th of Metisto the Mate was surprised to see a woman amongst the latest batch of recruits. Female sailors were hardly unheard of, but they were uncommon… but this was no sailor. More a lady, really, which was explained when Captain K’Jorul introduced them.
“Mate Grünby, let me introduce you to our new ship’s surgeon, physician Lurin Ar’Hanol. She is a very skilled doctor from my own land, and I feel we’re quite lucky to have her. She travels to the east to study new healing techniques, and so her goals fit well with our needs. Please show her to the surgeon’s quarters, and assign a man to act as her batman and general assistant until she can select her own, once we’re fully crewed.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said, taking the proffered hand, careful not to grip it to hard… but her own grip was surprising firm. Perhaps not a surprise for a surgeon, he realized. She was not a classical beauty, perhaps, but very compelling in her own way… not unlike the Lady Mariala, he thought. He’d have to keep a weather eye out until the crew became used to her, to make sure no one offered her offense. Although he suspected that she, like Lady Mariala, could take care of herself.
∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆
On the 13th of Metisto the Hand had their first debate over one of Captain K’Jorul’s crew selections. For the most part they had all remained aloof, even Korwin, respecting his expertise and his prerogatives as commander. But the choice of a pilot was critical, and they opted to sit in on the interviews with the four candidates up for consideration. The owners-aboard and the Captain were agreed on the first candidate, Kardeth M’Yud, another native of Kunya-Kesh. K’Jorul apparently knew him by reputation, and didn’t care for what he knew, and both Vulk and Mariala gave definitive “no’s” after a few minutes of questions. The rest of the owners accepted that without demurral, and the man departed, not graciously.
No one felt strongly about Astan Lyir, a middle-aged man from the city-state of Agara, on the Wild Coast, while Captain K’Jorul preferred Akel Quangar, of Ormen in the Three Kingdoms. He was an Imperial, and knew the Archipelago well, with what Belith felt was the proper balance between experience and age. Most of the owners, however, leaned strongly toward a younger man, Arus Salasin of Aldeath, on the island of Thorkin. Also an Imperial, he had an enthusiasm and energy that the adventuresome group appreciated.
Since K’Jorul’s main objection to the man was his relative youth, and therefore inexperience, and nothing more substantial, in the end he acquiesced to the owner’s desire and agreed on their choice. It was not a bad choice, and it was the only time the owners-aboard had shown an inclination to interfere… so far. Besides, his cousin had whispered in his ear that, at 28, he was a bit hypocritical to hold up another man’s youth as a disqualification for a post.
∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆
On the 14th of Metisto the owners-aboard, perhaps to smooth over any hard feelings they imagined might exist over the pilot question, had deferred completely to Captain K’Jorul on whether or not to take on a passenger. Domus Tomas Biswyk, a tall, skinny youth of noble family and substantial means, approached the ship about booking passage, having understood that they intended to travel across the Empire.
“I am what I like to call a “Naturalist,” he’d explained, “that is, one who studies the natural world, from its geology, climates and geography to its plant and animal life. I am particularly involved in developing a personal theory of mine, regarding the origin of species and their development over time, and to further my work I need to study various life forms in as many isolated locales as possible. A tour throughout the Archipelago would be eminently suitable for this purpose.
“Now, I would prefer to hire a ship devoted solely to my own endeavors, but my funds do not allow such a luxury. I am the youngest child of seven, and while my father is inclined to indulge my studies, my oldest sister, and his heir, thinks them merely the foolish fancies of a dilettante, of no practical worth. She is a very practical woman. And since, the second she inherits our father’s title and estates, she will cut off most of my allowance, I have decided it is time to pursue my studies while Father is still hale… and indulgent.”
Those of the owners who took an interest in the matter seemed amused by the near-sighted, clearly sheltered and naive young man, but they left the decision entirely to their captain. Belith was rather amused by the fellow himself, although he was inclined to agree with the sister about the value of his ideas. Still, they had the room, and Biswyk was willing to pay the going rate for a private cabin, so why not?
The next day, the 15th of Metisto, once Domus Tomas had brought aboard his surprisingly large collection of books, crates and cases, the Wind of Kasira set sail on the afternoon tide…
*An untold story that will be fully explored in the semi-near future.