She's All Thaumaturgy

by A. K. Caggiano

  The stranger’s head lolled to the side, and he promptly passed out.

  “No? Well, thank you so much for your time.” She pulled herself back up to her full height and continued down between the seawall and the back doors of shady establishments.

  “What in the godless gorge do you think you’re doing?” Sir Walter called after her, but she didn’t bother looking back.

  A group of three were gathered around an upturned barrel, playing cards. They were discussing the rules to the game, but Elayne didn’t wait for them to take a breath to interrupt, her voice met with three angry glares. Still, she smiled. “Gentlemen, if you could help a poor, lonely maiden, I would be much obliged. I’m looking for a band of pirates, the dastardlier the better. Do you know of any in the area?”

  A smile crawled across one of their faces as he stood. “What kind of payment you got?”

  She took a short step back, her smile faltering, but quickly replaced when she saw Sir Walter tucking away his flask from the corner of her eye. She clasped her hands behind her and popped a hip out, “Oh, I think we can work something out. I need the information first, though.”

  As another of the men stood, Sir Walter grabbed the crook of her arm and pulled her away. “Have you gone mad?” He walked her back toward the tavern. “Has Sh’ey taken your mind?”

  “No!” She allowed herself to be dragged along though she feigned protest. “I’m here for help, and I’ll get it one way or another.”

  “All you’ll get is dead like that!” His breath smelled sour and hot, but his words were accurate.

  “Oh, won’t anyone help me?” She called out at the top of her lungs in mock despair as they passed the open back door to an inn. “I am in desperate need of a pirate!”

  “Stop that!” Sir Walter shook her and sped up, pulling her back in view of her friends. “It would be a disservice to bring you back to that place when so many died to get you out of it.” The slur to his voice had gone. The unfortunate side effect of sobering up meant that drunkards started making sense.

  “It’s a greater disservice to let those people suffer when I might have a way to fix things.”

  Sir Walter rolled his head back, scratching at his unshaven neck, conflicted as much as he appeared annoyed. “What do you even want pirates for?”

  Gramps’s voice told him, “To take the cliffs of Heulux. The miasma there is thinner, and the caves are unguarded.”

  Sir Walter went for his flask again, but Elayne stopped him with a look.

  “Sea’s nasty too,” he cautioned. “Though it’s true, that sickness crawls thicker over the land, but the waters…” He looked over at the seawall as if he could see through it. “I only know one crew daft enough to sail into the caves of Heulux.” He glanced upward at the sky, dark and full of stars. “We’ll just make the night ferry if we head out now.”

  “Ferry?” Frederick eyed him.

  “There’s a spit of land just off the coast. If you want Corin’s crew, and I’m sure they’re the only ones who will do it, you’ll only find them there.”

  Spit of land was appropriate for Wright Isle; it was tiny, just off the coast, and may have been better left ejected on a walkway somewhere. The spray of the ocean was cold in the darkness, the water lapping at the boat as it docked amongst softly crashing black waves, and Sir Walter was already sweating. Though that could have been because he hadn’t brought his flask back out since they’d gotten on the ferry.

  They piled off with a group of women who headed immediately across the beach to where the only visible lights were shining. Under the moonlight, the coast was well enough lit, and Elayne wrapped her arms around herself against the stiff breeze. Sir Walter was frowning.

  “Wright Isle,” he told them, unimpressed. “If you want to get to Heulux, we’ve got to find Corin’s lot, and they’re either here or,”—he gestured to the ocean—“dead out there.”

  Before Sir Walter could say anymore, Elayne was stalking up the sandy beach. There were a few huts that looked to have been added onto when the need arose, sections caved in and built up over. Windows that were simply holes left in the mismatched plank walls emanated warm lights, shutters banging in the breeze. It smelled of ale, before and after it was drunk. There was a smattering of people outside engaging in all sorts of debauchery, but Elayne ignored them, striding into the loudest building.

  He was a massive man, broad-chested and big-bellied, wearing an open, patchwork leather vest that exposed a rather hairy chest. Sitting in the tavern’s center, his laughter filled up the entire space, a woman on each arm and a third hanging over his shoulder, but he paid little mind to any of them as he engaged the rest of the table. They all held cards, but the game appeared to be on hold as the man explained to the others, in graphic detail, how he’d recently gutted a man and run him up his mast. Everyone was delighted.

  Though it should have inspired doubt in her, Elayne was enthralled by the idea of someone so large and so vicious in their employ. They’d be headed somewhere dangerous, after all, and having the most dangerous person you could find on your side would only be a boon.

  “How do you suppose we ask?” Elayne leaned over to Sir Walter as he came up next to her.

  “Just walk up to him and make a proposal, I s’pose.” Sir Walter’s opposition had faded, and he hiccuped. “Just make sure you call him Captain.”

  Elayne took a deep breath, puffing out her chest, taking the most masculine steps she could muster toward the table. But just as she reached it, Sir Walter grabbed her and spun her around. “Not that one,” he chuckled, his finger pointing to the darkest corner of the tavern. “That’s Corin over there.”

  Splayed out on the ground, leaning up against a barrel was a man. Well, sort of. Skinny and practically drowning in both his coat and bottle, his chest rose and fell just enough to signal that he was still alive, even with a tricorn hat pulled over his face. Elayne actually hesitated this time.

  “He looks useless,” Neoma whispered from behind her.

  “I didn’t say he was useful,” Sir Walter grunted. “Just that he might be crazy enough to do it.”

  Elayne squared her shoulders again and ventured across the tavern, signaling to the others to stay. She stood at his feet, looking over him, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Excuse me, Captain?” No answer. She tapped at his boot with her own foot, knocking it to the side, but it just lolled on the end of a scrawny leg.

  “Well, hello there.” The voice was like a salamander laid out on a black rock in the sun. Elayne squinted into the shadows behind Corin, and a figure stepped out of them. His skin glimmered as if gold-plated as he came into the candlelight of the tavern. Tall and lean, the elf—or, with that stubble he might be a man—closed the book he’d been reading and crossed his arms, looking down a long nose at her. “I can’t imagine what you would want with my friend here.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He smirked. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  Elayne blushed furiously but had no idea why. She shook her head. “I’m trying to barter passage on Corin’s ship.”

  “Surely the ferry can take you and your friends back where you belong?”

  Elayne glanced over her shoulder to see the group, so plainly out of place, huddled near the door.

  “Unless you’re looking for somewhere to spend the night?”

  The question would have hung in the air longer, heavier, if Corin’s form didn’t suddenly rouse at it, his voice muffled under his hat. “Spend the night, where?”

  That familiar burning sensation returned to her face, and she tried to scowl it away. “I need to go somewhere the ferry can’t take me.”

  “Well.” The man, who might also be an elf by the shape of his ears, grinned even deeper. “I think that can be arranged.”

  “So are they going to do it or not?” Frederick was suddenly at Elayne’s side.

  She sucked in a quick breath. “Well, this gentleman was just suggesting he might
be able to help.”

  The elf who might also be a man’s face blanked a moment, then he glared at them. “Seriously, what do you want?”

  “What you want?” parroted the drunken Corin.

  “I would like for your crew to take my,”—she glanced at them again wearily—“crew to the cliffs of Heulux.”

  “You what?” Corin sat straight up. His companion’s face didn’t change, but Elayne could feel his silence stronger than if he had said anything.

  “Heulux,” she repeated. “I’d like to buy my way there.”

  “Nope.” Corin stood on wobbly knees, placing himself between her and the tall man. He was barely her own height, even with his hat now firmly, if crookedly, planted on his head. He turned on his heel and headed for the back door of the tavern.

  “Why not?” Elayne hurried to keep up with his surprisingly long strides. “I hear tell you’re the…the bravest captain out here.”

  Captain Corin stopped, the door held open in his hand as a salty breeze blew in. He opened his mouth, then snapped it firmly shut and continued outside. “Bravery’s got little to do with it.”

  Scrunching up her face, Elayne followed. Behind the building moonlight filtered down between the branches of scraggly trees, and there was no one else about. She dared to raise her voice. “Sir, I implore you.”

  Corin chuckled but did not turn back.

  “Why?” The slick voice returned, and Elayne saw he had followed her with Frederick just behind.

  “We don’t ask why!” Corin huffed.

  “I must return to my home.”

  The taller man put a hand to his pointed chin and looked her over again. That was it, she realized; he too was a half-elf. A crossblood. She hadn’t met another one in years. “Your home too, I reckon.”

  The half-elf did not smirk this time, did not quip something smart back at her, but he glanced past her and out into the darkness of the beach.

  “Aye, you suddenly got yerself one of them political affiliations, Rel?” Corin came back to them and elbowed his significantly taller friend in the side.

  “No,” Rel spat out quickly, glaring at the man and straightening. “I just find it interesting is all. Once people escape Heulux, they don’t want to return, especially not crossbloods. I can only think of one that might actually be interested. One that might have quite a bit of gold.”

  Corin’s eyes flashed, and Elayne’s breath caught. She’d forgotten about that. Damn Gramps and his reliance on things working themselves out. She cleared her throat. “You might not be wrong about who you think I am.” She glanced momentarily at Frederick who was silently waving his arms behind the pair for her to stop. “You can be assured that, if I succeed, there’s a large payout for you.”

  “If,” Corin grunted flatly. “Don’t like ifs.”

  “Well, it’s a never if I don’t get there.” She crossed her arms with a sort of finality she hoped the pirate understood.

  “So be it!” Surprisingly, he did.

  “We can make a good faith offer,” a tiny voice piped up from their feet, as Bix popped up in the middle of them all.

  “We can?” Elayne felt her heart race a little.

  Bix gave a nod and pulled his rucksack around to his front, digging inside and lifting out something that caught the meager light shining from the tavern windows. In Bix’s tiny, green hand, the ruby looked absolutely massive, and its sparkle was mesmerizing. Corin dropped to his knees in front of the kobold, his eyeball practically touching the gem. He didn’t say a word.

  Elayne had no idea where he’d gotten it, but she thought not knowing was probably better.

  “You like? From the Sarvius vault in Breen, cut in a perfect trilliant with fifty facets.” Bix grinned and pushed it into Corin’s hands, fishing around in his bag again and revealing a necklace that he let slide over his palm, the diamonds embedded in the fine, gold chain raining down like fresh water before a sailor trapped at sea with no wind. Elayne thought it looked eerily similar to something from one of the paintings of Rosalind’s mother. “The stones on this are in ascending brilliance, and the middle one alone could buy you half of this island, but the whole necklace? You could become an admiral.”

  Corin reached out with his free hand, but Bix snatched it back. “Only after you deliver us to the cliffs.” Bix flared his nostrils and upturned his snout into a frown, his bulbous, watery eyes narrowed into shrewd slits.

  The pirate shivered, then got to his feet. He measured the heft of the ruby in his hands and swallowed. “I could just run off with this right here.”

  Bix shrugged and glanced at Elayne. “Wouldn’t be much of a dent, would it?”

  Elayne’s eyes went wide, then she shook her head, hoping they wouldn’t notice. “Nope!”

  Corin turned to Rel though his eyes never left the ruby. He wiped the drool off his mouth and chuckled. “Maybe I gots one of them political affiliations now too.”

  CHAPTER 29

  On the far side of Wright Isle there were makeshift docks where other ships were haphazardly tied up. There was little order here, and at least one mean-mugging crewman at the helm of every vessel. Rel had disappeared and then reappeared with two more crew members. First was a man called Kurz who towered over the rest of them like a giant, his chest wide, neck non-existent, and his skin a blue-grey, all a bit like if Bix had been blown up huge and cursed. His head was shaved to the skin so that old scars and slightly pointed ears were visible. Kurz certainly wasn’t human, but he wasn’t an elf either, and Rel had said briefly that he was from the shores of Northvale, though he himself was silent.

  With him was a dwarven woman who did enough talking for them both. She wore her ruddy hair short and spiked, and had multiple weapons hanging off her hips, back, and strapped to her chest like a miniature, walking arsenal. She was called Bryllin and Rosalind made fast friends with her. When she was told where they were headed, her face lit up. Elayne hadn’t expected it, but was glad to see the dwarf clap her hands and lick her lips at the prospect of visiting Heulux’s shore. Someone needed to be excited about it.

  Finally they reached the end of the port where a disused, broken dock reached out into the water. The planks had fallen in at its center and those remaining seemed dubious. The sea lapped at the dilapidated end of the gangway, moonlight shining off the cresting waves, but there was nothing beyond save for horizon.

  “There she be.” Captain Corin took in a deep breath and sighed blissfully. “The Fairy’s Knickers.”

  Elayne looked around, then to Rel. The half-elf sighed. “It’s not there.”

  “Well, of course she is, it’s where I left her, and—oh.” Corin grunted then shouted out down the dock, but his speech was in a tongue none of them understood, a mix of breathy, quick sounds and a lilt that spanned a number of octaves. Rel smirked, then gestured back to the dock.

  At the broken boards’ end, a form began to appear from the mists bobbing atop the ocean. Long and low, it took the shape of a sea vessel, piecing itself together, board by board, as if it were being built before them. The ship assembled itself all the way to the top of its mast where, at the apex, sat a gently glowing orb.

  “That’s more like it.” Corin took to the dock first, thoughtlessly stepping over the holes and easily keeping his balance. The rest of his crew followed, Rel gesturing for the others to go ahead of him. “Mind the gaps,” he said as Frederick passed him. The knight grunted in annoyed confirmation.

  Elayne wasn’t sure about heading into open water on something that didn’t exist a moment prior. “Is there some sort of cloaking spell on this?”

  “No, no.” Corin motioned down to her from the deck of the ship. “She’s just not real.”

  Elayne waited, but there was no further explanation from the apparently imaginary ship’s captain as the other two crew hopped the chasm from dock to ship. She looked once again to Rel.

  “The ship is not not real,” he corrected. “Unless you would argue that illusory magic is not rea
l. In which case, I suppose, it is not.” Elayne touched her face unconsciously at his words. “Regardless, the ship is constructed of yew wood from a fae forest, so it’s naturally imbued with illusory magic.”

  “What?” Rosalind’s mouth hung open. “A fae forest?”

  The dwarven woman, Bryllin, put out a hand to help Rosalind up into the ship. “Sure! Where else would they live?”

  Neoma was next to climb aboard, but she hesitated at the sight of the gap. “But the trees in fae forests aren’t actually trees.” She measured the jump she was going to have to make and steeled herself. “They’re the physical embodiment of—” She was cut short by Kurz reaching down and grabbing her by the back of her dress. She squeaked as he placed her easily up on the ship.

  “Fae spirits!” Bix shouted as he made the jump into the ship behind her, but just barely.

  “That’s why she’s tied to the ship.” Rel gracefully crossed the gap and extended a hand for Elayne to take. “Gaul was asleep when her tree was felled and when she woke, she was suddenly a ship.”

  Elayne took his hand and stepped up onto the ship that used to be a tree that was actually a fae’s spirit. “Heavy sleeper.”

  “No one could captain her.” Corin was walking the length of the deck, his hands behind his back. “No one ‘cept me seeing as I know fae-speak.” The glowing orb shot down from the top of the mast and hovered beside Corin’s face. He turned to it, rolled his eyes, and looked back to the rest of them. “Also, she lets me.”

  “We best be hurrying,” Bryllin shouted from somewhere on the other side of the ship. “We can make it to the shore in a day if we pull anchor now!”

  Fredrick jumped aboard, but Sir Walter was still standing on the dock. Elayne leaned on the railing as he pulled out his flask. There was a tightness in her chest that told her she knew what he was going to say.