Inherited Danger tdop-2

by Brian Rathbone

  Boredom plagued the men. They didn't share her passion for books and needed some other way to occupy themselves.

  "Any chance you could find us some dice?" Benjin asked Pelivor one afternoon.

  "I suppose there's a chance. I'll make some inquiries on your behalf."

  In the meantime, he brought a new stack of books for their entertainment; most were in High Common, but a few were in High Script. Those in High Common were soon divided among the others, and Catrin supposed more ancient lineage wouldn't kill her. She picked up a badly faded and ancient-looking tome and was pleasantly surprised to find it actually told a story.

  It was an impossibly difficult text to translate, and she often had to read a passage several times before she had even a cursory understanding of what it meant. Even when she thought she made sense of something, she wondered if she weren't misinterpreting it. Based on her best guesses, she surmised that there had been two warring factions: the Om and the Gholgi, and the Gholgi were very powerful. Some passages seemed to indicate that the Om were forced to live underground in order to avoid the Gholgi. This confused Catrin, and she was almost certain she was reading something incorrectly, but she continued, hoping to find something to confirm or deny her assumptions.

  "What do these two words mean?" she asked Pelivor.

  "I don't know what Gholgi means. I apologize for my ignorance. This book is from the captain's personal collection, and it is probably the oldest text I have ever seen. Based on the ancient form of High Script, I suspect this is a relatively recent transcription of a much older work. Some of the words it contains may have never been translated before or may have no translation. The other word you asked about, Om, could be similar to Ohma, which means men."

  "That makes no sense either, unless the men were fighting women. Perhaps Gholgi is the word for woman," she said.

  "I doubt that. Uma is the more modern form of woman. Perhaps the old form was Um," he speculated, and Catrin scanned the pages in hopes of confirming his guess. She was almost disappointed to find the word Um used later in the text since that bit of conjecture only made the rest of the puzzle appear more complex.

  The further she read, the more confused she became, and she eventually set the book aside in frustration. Pacing the cabin relentlessly, she was like a caged animal. She needed answers, not guesses, but all she had were feelings and assumptions. Her confinement became like a tangible thing; it trapped her and prevented her from getting the answers she sought. She knew, deep inside, it wasn't true, but frustration overwhelmed her good sense. She stewed in her uncertainty and anxieties until she worked herself into a frenzied state. The men seemed to sense the rising storm, and they exchanged glances, as if wondering where she would strike.

  Fears and concerns overwhelmed her, and she realized not all of the worry was hers. She could sense the others, and their moods were influencing hers. And she wondered if she could remain sane while trapped with so much emotion in what now seemed like small quarters.

  Pelivor broke the tension when he brought dried fruits and walnuts soaked in maple syrup. Everyone gathered around him and sampled the unexpected treats. The mood lightened, and soon they laughed while licking their fingers. Chase and Strom told tall tales along with more than a few true tales, and Pelivor laughed so hard he nearly choked. Chase patted him on the back, and as soon as he was breathing again, they launched into a series of humorous anecdotes that nearly killed the young man.

  Vertook surprised everyone when he told the tale of an adventure with his horse, Al Jhadir. He was somber at first, and Catrin could sense his pain, but she was also glad to know Al Jhadir's name; she would never forget him.

  He said that he and Al Jhadir were once caught in a tremendous sandstorm, a storm so terrible, his love feared for his life. They limped back to camp barely alive and bearing a mighty thirst. The first thing they came upon to drink were jugs of whiskey. Laughing so hard that tears ran down his face, he had trouble finishing his tale. He finally managed to tell them that he and his horse nearly drank themselves to death, and his lover threatened to leave him after she found him passed out, his arms around Al Jhadir. Pelivor fell from his chair laughing.

  The sight of Pelivor enjoying himself lightened Catrin's soul, as she felt somewhat responsible for his new confidence. It was Chase, though, who sent Pelivor over the edge. His rendition of their trip through the marshes sent Pelivor into fits. Even those who had endured those trials found Chase's comical reenactment too humorous to resist. When Chase got to the part about Strom realizing he had mistakenly used the leaves of a poison plant for personal purposes, Pelivor's eyes grew very large and he covered his mouth. He could not make a sound as he pointed and stared at Strom, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Claiming his stomach hurt from all the laughing, Pelivor excused himself, and they were all sorry to see him go. His mood had been infectious, and they all felt better for it. The silence he left behind seemed to lend itself to quiet reflection, and Catrin found herself reviewing many of the good times in her life. The silence held as if everyone in the room were enamored with it, and Catrin wondered who would finally break the spell.

  All of them nearly jumped from their skins when there came a loud knock on the door just before it opened. A motherly looking woman gracefully entered the room and addressed them. "Greetings, friends. I'm Nora Trell, captain of the Trader's Wind. I welcome you aboard, even if it is a bit late," she said as she looked each of them over, and she smiled brightly when she got to Benjin. "Ah, so there's a storm cloud aboard one of my ships again. Benjin, you scoundrel, it's good to see you again."

  Benjin approached her, and they exchanged a brief hug.

  "This one nearly let my Kenward and your father get him killed," she said while pinching Benjin's cheek and arching her eyebrows at Catrin. "Kenward has said many a time that sailing with Benjin was like sailing with a thunderhead. I'm guessing it's still true," she said and laughed as Strom and Osbourne nodded vigorously in agreement. Benjin shot them a good-natured scowl, but Nora looked at Benjin seriously. "I still owe you a debt, Benjin Hawk, for helping to keep my fool son afloat. I would repay that debt now," she said, and she pulled a small bag from within her stout robe.

  An assortment of brightly colored dice rolled out when she emptied it onto one of the tables. Benjin sucked in a breath, for these were not ordinary dice; each one was carved from a different type of gemstone, and they sparkled in the light. The faces of each die bore detailed designs, along with the etched value of that face. They ranged from four to eighteen sides, with several variations of each. Catrin didn't know the value of the stones themselves, but each of them was a work of art. Gauging by Benjin's reaction, she guessed they were very valuable indeed.

  "It's too much, Captain Trell. I cannot accept such a generous gift, even if it is in the exact form I desired. I thank you, though."

  "Nonsense," she replied. "I insist you take them, as they are not for you alone. Miss Catrin saved the Slippery Eel in rather spectacular fashion, I'm told. I hope to repay part of that debt this day and satisfy my curiosity. I'm not certain I wish to see anyone rip the clouds from the sky, as Kenward described your attack on the Zjhon, but the description creates a vivid image. He's an excitable boy, and he tends to exaggerate, but he seemed sincere in this?" she said, making the statement a question and looking at Catrin for confirmation.

  "I wouldn't have used those words, but I cannot say his description is inaccurate," Catrin replied as humbly as she could. Benjin and the others nodded in agreement, and Nora was duly impressed.

  "Truly powerful indeed," she said. "You have your mother's look about you. I hope you have a more conservative disposition than she did, given the power you wield." Captain Trell seemed to realize how harsh her words sounded. "I'm sorry, my dear; that was insensitive of me. Sometimes I forget when I'm not speaking to a member of my crew. Please forgive me. Your mother was a lovely young woman, and I was very sorry to hear of her passing."

  Ca
trin nodded in silent acceptance of the apology.

  Captain Trell broke the uncomfortable hush and changed the subject by asking Catrin if she had been able to read the books she sent with Pelivor. Catrin was downcast as she admitted she had grown frustrated with the old book, but Nora was sympathetic.

  "Don't let it bother you. I've had several scholars examine that book, and they could tell me very little about it. Mostly they said the writings were so old, they were written in a language that preceded High Script. I cannot remember what they called it now," Nora said, and she looked thoughtful as she shuffled through her memories. "It was a long time ago, but I believe one scholar thought this book told of the discovery of the Greatland."

  Catrin was unsure what good the information would do her, as she doubted she would ever be able to fully translate it, but she tucked the knowledge away.

  ***

  In a tangle of vines, Nat's long knife became wedged. Sweat dripped into his eyes while he yanked on the handle, trying to pull the blade free. Frustrated and tired, he prepared for a final yank when a hand rested on his shoulder.

  Neenya moved his hand from the handle and stepped in front of him. Taking the handle, she moved it up and down as she pulled, and it soon slid free.

  "Thank you, Neenya," Nat said, letting her, once again, take the lead. Her long knife seemed to sail through the undergrowth, but when he had tried to lead, he found it impossible to do. Neenya was a gift from the gods.

  Among the villagers, he was seen as something special. It was impossible to know what it was they really thought since he did not understand their language, and even worse, none would dare speak to him. Even the village elders would only nod, shake their heads, or point. When they pointed, they almost always pointed to the same place: a high peak on the far side of the island, which was often obscured by clouds. It was there Neenya would take him.

  As soon as Nat had shown the slightest interest in reaching that mountain, Neenya had stepped forward and the elders rushed them to start their journey. Since then, Neenya had been leading him deeper into the jungle, and Nat began to wonder if he would leave it alive. Snakes, lizards, and even frogs were threats here. Whenever a threat was near, Neenya would make a sharp hissing sound and point.

  Despite the danger, Nat did want to see what the villagers thought was so important about this mountain. Something was there, waiting for him. Whenever they gained a clear view of that narrow yet majestic spire, he would stand in awe, overwhelmed by a feeling of anticipation.

  Nat found himself staring at the still distant mountain and realized he'd stopped again. Neenya had continued to clear a path through the underbrush, and he jumped at the sound of her sharp hiss.

  Chapter 6

  Wager your coin only when you know something the rest do not.

  - -Hidi Kukk, gambler

  ***

  Captain Trell's gifts provided days of entertainment; Benjin taught them to play a game known as pickup. He drew a grid on the back of a piece of leather and drew a number in each square. Players put their bets on the squares they wanted, and the dice would be rolled. They used a combination of dice whose maximum was equal to the number of squares on the grid, which made every roll a potential winner. If the number you bet was rolled, then you got all the bets on the grid.

  The group had very little in the way of coinage, which made it difficult for them to play, but Pelivor solved their problem. He brought them a long strip of rawhide that he said they could cut up and use as pretend coinage. The idea was an instant success, and Pelivor even joined them for a few games. Benjin was an experienced player, and he tried to teach them the nuances of the game. Each player could bet more than one square per roll, but no more than one coin per square. They took turns placing bets until everyone passed on their chance to bet or until the grid was full.

  The game could be frustrating at times; especially when they could not remember who had placed bets on which squares, but they had fun learning.

  "Many places in the Greatland have elaborate pickup tables with colored betting chips for each player that make it much easier to keep track of, but this is better than boredom by far," Benjin said, to which they all agreed.

  Catrin played on occasion, but most of the time she returned to her book, which she now thought was entitled Men Leave. This at least made sense given what the captain knew of the book. Even with the additional knowledge, she had few revelations. The latter part of the book seemed to describe the shipbuilding process, but she was unsure, and there were no illustrations to help her. The information Captain Nora provided was inconclusive, and Catrin began to wonder if it was influencing her attempts at translation. Perhaps, she thought, she had been better off before finding out what someone else thought the book was about. At the times when she could no longer take the frustration, she talked with Pelivor or played pickup with the men.

  Her games of pickup grew fewer as the intensity of the games began to increase. Benjin was no longer the most experienced player, and Vertook surprised them all by consistently winning. They asked him how he won so often, and he always gave them the same obtuse reply: "Patterns." This answer served only to infuriate the rest of them, as they sought to see these magical patterns Vertook used to beat them. Each time they played, they were more determined to win, and they demanded rematch after rematch, even after he had taken all their bits of rawhide numerous times.

  "What do you mean by 'patterns'?" Catrin asked when she cornered him one day.

  He just shrugged. "Patterns all around, but you must learn to see them. Some things more likely than others, and when one pattern happens, probably not happen again. Patterns not always right, but better than no patterns."

  Catrin was not sure she understood his logic, but she began looking for patterns in everything, as Vertook suggested, and in many ways, she found confirmation of his words, not the least of which was his obscene winning streak. Despite her efforts to duplicate his feat, she was never able to see the patterns in relation to pickup, as Vertook did.

  ***

  When they were near the end of their ocean journey, Pelivor brought them a large map of the Greatland that he rolled out onto one of the tables.

  "Captain Trell wishes to know your desired destination, as she needs time to make the arrangements for the final leg of your journey. She does not recommend you land at New Moon Bay; the security will be tight, and you would stand a good chance of being discovered. It would not be the first time the Trader's Wind has been searched from top to bottom before being allowed to enter port."

  The months aboard the ship had dulled the group's sense of urgency and allowed them to become complacent. Catrin had been able to forget some of her fears and anxieties, while the seclusion and comfort had fostered the illusion of security. With the map in front of them and the decision upon them, the thin veil of perceived safety vanished. Catrin trembled as a sense of foreboding weighed on her until she thought she would be crushed. Her eyes rested on the soft clothing she wore, and she felt the need to regain her edge and vigilance.

  Determined to completely shatter the illusion, she excused herself, retreating to her quarters to don her leathers and homespun. Pelivor had cared for them well, and her garments were in considerably better condition than when she arrived. Her borrowed garments had been designed specifically for comfort, and Catrin found her utilitarian clothing rough and binding in comparison. The effect helped to remind her of the seriousness of her situation, and she visibly shifted her posture and attitude. The effect was not a complete regression to that which she had been before boarding the Trader's Wind, though; her new persona was better educated, more confident, and better mentally prepared.

  When she returned to the common area, she found the atmosphere completely changed. Gone were the reclining figures garbed in white and tan; in their place, she found adventurers. The abrupt shift appeared to unnerve Pelivor, and he looked as if he were surrounded by predators. Catrin could understand his unease; she, too, was dis
quieted by those who paced the apartments like angry beasts, despite being one of them. Her attempt to reassure Pelivor came out as a shrill demand that he not look so meek. He seemed uncertain of how to respond and quickly excused himself.

  Benjin was the first to speak. "We'd best prepare ourselves for the rigors that await us. This journey has provided respite and opportunity for recuperation, but it's also softened us. Let's approach our next decision with wisdom as well as caution. Let's discuss the best possible place to disembark the Trader's Wind as well as our ultimate destination. Let us consider our decisions well before we act," Benjin said, and his formal words struck their hearts.

  Catrin nodded and joined the somber group around the map.

  Benjin produced the bag of dice and poured a few into his hand. He placed them strategically on the map. The dice were a perfect metaphor for Catrin but one that struck too close to the truth for comfort. She imagined the dice rolling, her fate decided by patterns she failed to perceive. Benjin looked thoughtful and placed one last die on the map.

  "I've marked these locations for a number of reasons. On the southeastern tip of the Greatland, we have Drascha Stone, one of the oldest Cathuran strongholds. We could land on the southern tip of Mundleboro and travel east to Drascha Stone. Far to the north, in the Northern Wastes, there is Ohmahold-thought to be the first stronghold on the Greatland. It's remote and surrounded by deep snow for much of the year.

  "There are other, less significant Cathuran outposts in the remote parts of Sylva and the Westland," he said, motioning to the three smaller dice. "We'll be approaching the east coast, and traveling all the way to the west coast by ship would be risky. The Southland and Mundleboro have been occupied for only a few years, and the Zjhon influence has less hold there, but the southern coasts are brutally hot. Landing on the shores of the Southland would be difficult, as there are several key ports along the peninsula, and that area will likely be patrolled heavily."