by Robert Bevan
The harbormaster frowned down at Butterbean, who was still growling at him. He seemed hesitant to open the door.
“Maybe we should put Butterbean in the bag,” suggested Tanner.
“What?” said Katherine.
“We don't want to risk infecting this kind harbormaster, do we?”
“Infecting?” said the harbormaster.
Tanner looked at him. “This inspection shouldn't take more than ten minutes, should it?”
The harbormaster managed to wrest his nervous gaze from Butterbean and looked at Tanner. “That would depend on how much there is to inspect, and if I find any questionable cargo.”
Tanner smiled at Katherine. “Well there you go.”
“Awesome,” Katherine said curtly, giving Tanner a warning look. She knelt down and held the bag open for Butterbean.
Butterbean's growl turned into a whimper, but he hung his head and tail and padded into the bag.
The harbormaster breathed a sigh of relief, then unlatched a door at the far end of the counter.
Katherine and Tanner followed him past the small office at the front of the building to a larger room in the back. It was mostly empty but for the wooden crates that lined the walls, presumably filled with contraband cargo.
“So what sort of things are illegal to move in and out of the harbor?” asked Katherine.
“Nothing specific,” said the harbormaster. “The guidelines are open to interpretation. We mainly look for anything that stands out as suspicious. A few assorted weapons, for instance, would be normal. A thousand swords, on the other hand, might lead me to suspect you were equipping an army, which is something the king would likely want to be aware of. Or if your bag was filled with manacles, I might suspect you of being involved in the slave trade.”
“Whoa!” said Katherine. “Open your eyes. Do you not see my friend here?” She gestured at Tanner.
The harbormaster glanced at Tanner, then turned back to Katherine. “I see him.”
Tanner cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should be moving this along. The bag, Captain?”
Still unsure as to what he was up to, Katherine reluctantly handed over her Bag of Holding.
Holding it upside down and reaching his hand into the opening, Tanner said, “All non-living things.”
Katherine finally understood. She nodded appreciatively as the contents of her bag spilled out onto the floor.
The harbormaster stared down in horror as dehydrated dire rat corpses thunked down on the floor, followed by the splash of Denise's vomit.
“Move it!” said Katherine, shoving Tanner's arms just in time for her thick black cloak and several pairs of jeans to fall out of the bag beyond the reach of the vomit puddle.
A permanently enchanted Light stone fell out and landed on the laundry pile, significantly brightening up the room.
As her scythe and other assorted weapons clattered onto the floor, Katherine was thankful that she wasn't currently carrying any dead bodies.
Next came some necklaces made of twine and crystals which she didn't immediately recognize, then a chair. That was strange.
A rope spilled out onto the chair like a pile of spaghetti, followed by a burlap sack like a meatball on top. The harbormaster gasped, probably because the bag smelled like shit.
Tanner also gasped, which Katherine found more alarming. She'd been so impressed with his ruse that only now did she put together the rope, the chair, the anti-magic charms, and the shitbag. Mordred was floating around inside the Bag of Holding unbound, unbagged, and uninhibited in his magic use. Also, he was naked.
“I trust there's nothing prohibited here,” said Tanner hurriedly.
The harbormaster glared at him. “Well, no. But –”
“Then we really must be on our way.”
“But who's going to clean up all this –”
“Butterbean!” shouted Katherine as she snatched the Bag of Holding away from Chaz. He was in there alone with Mordred. She thrust her hand into the bag and repeated her Animal Companion's name.
Butterbean fell out onto the floor. He was alive and unharmed, thankfully, but annoyed. He got to his feet and growled bitterly at the harbormaster.
“Very well!” said the harbormaster. “Go! May your voyage be long and your return be slow.”
Katherine scooped up her jeans, cloak, and some assorted weapons, then opened the Bag of Holding to shove them in.
“Wait!” said Tanner.
“We don't have time!” said Katherine. Not wanting to tip off the harbormaster, she tried to get her point across in code. “We want to get our lines in the water before the fish wake up.”
Tanner nodded his understanding. “The fish are in a sea of darkness. Would it not be best to let them stay that way?” He must be referring to the light stone.
Katherine couldn't believe she was the one who had to point out that dwarves could see in the dark. She felt like she'd just leveled up in nerd. “Some fish can see in the dark.”
“Not if there's nothing to see.” His gaze flickered to the harbormaster, then back to Katherine. “And besides, do we really want to arm them?” His metaphor needed work, but Katherine took his meaning.
She wrapped all of her weapons and clothes in her cloak while Tanner gathered the chair, anti-magic charms, and rope. They ran out the front entrance of the building where the Whore's Head gang were waiting for them.
To Frank's credit, he needed far less time to interpret the chair and rope Tanner was carrying in his arms, and the anti-magic charm necklaces he had hanging from his mouth, gripped between his teeth.
“You've only been out of our sight for two minutes! What did you do?”
“No time to explain,” said Katherine. “We need to get to my ship right now.” She ran as fast as she could down the pier, hugging her Bag of Holding and her bundle of weapons and laundry. Butterbean easily kept up with her. Tanner followed as quickly as he could while carrying a chair and trying not to trip over the rope dangling from it.
With a running leap, she landed hard on the rear deck of Nightwind.
“Katherine!” said Tanner from the pier, his voice filtered through a mouthful of twine.
When she turned to face him he was tossing the chair and rope her way.
“Shit!” she cried, dropping everything she was holding just in time to catch the chair.
Tanner took the anti-magic charms out of his mouth and leaped from the pier to join her on the rear deck. He looked around and nodded. “Nice ship.”
“Thanks.” She set down the chair and bent over to find the gang plank under the seating which ran along the ship's side. “Help me with this, would you?”
By the time Frank and the Whore's Head gang caught up, she and Tanner had bridged the gap between the ship and the pier.
Katherine gestured for them to move their asses. “Hurry up. We don't know how frequently Mordred checks in to this body. We need to get him tied up and shitbagged again before he wakes up.”
“How did he get untied and unshitbagged to begin with?” asked Frank as he scurried across the plank.
“The harbormaster gave us some shit. Tanner had an idea that seemed clever at the time, but turned out to be kind of a disaster.”
“Like stealing my dice bag?”
“Yes!” said Tanner, with a relieved sigh. “Exactly like that. It pleases me that we understand each other now, and that there are no hard feelings.”
Frank narrowed his eyes at him, then turned to Katherine. “What are we waiting for? Let's get him tied up already.”
“After everyone has boarded the ship,” said Katherine. “If he is awake, we'll want to jump him as soon as he comes out of the bag so that he can't fight or cast spells or anything.”
Frank bit his lower lip and nodded.
Waiting for everyone to board the ship felt like an eternity, especially when the dwarves crossed over the plank. Their stocky bodies and thick legs weren't designed for walking with one foot in front of the other, so
they had to compensate by walking sideways. Inchworming their way along the plank, they were even slower than usual.
While they waited, Katherine had plenty of time to explain exactly what had happened in the harbormaster's office, what she intended to do about it, and what she needed from them. When everyone had boarded, she and Tanner stood with the chair, rope, charms, and Bag of Holding, in the middle of the rear deck. The Whore's Head gang formed a circle around them.
“Ready?” she asked, reaching into the bag.
Everyone nodded nervously.
“Mordred!”
Katherine took a step back as the fat naked dwarf spilled out onto the deck, desperately sucking air into his lungs. She felt bad for forgetting to replace his oxygen supply. Chaz had discovered that was the one thing that was guaranteed to wake him up.
“He's awake!” cried Frank. “Get him!”
Mordred's eyes went wide with terror as the Whore's Head gang closed in on him. Frank, being all out of fucks to give, leaped right onto his chest and started slapping him in his shit-slathered face. Others pinned down his arms and legs.
“Stop!” cried Mordred. “Let go of –”
“Don't let him talk!” said Tanner. “He could be casting a spell!”
Frank pressed a thumb down hard on Mordred's closed eye. When Mordred screamed, Frank shoved his other fist deep into Mordred's wide open mouth.
“AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!” Frank screamed as Mordred bit down hard on his arm. “TIE HIM TO THE GODDAMN CHAIR ALREADY!”
As the stronger people lifted Mordred onto the chair, Frank wrapped his left arm around Mordred's neck to keep from falling off while Mordred continued to try to bite off his right.
“Okay,” said Tony the Elf, holding the rope. “He's on the chair. You can get off now.”
“No... I... can't!” Frank was sweating with pain as his blood trickled down the sides of Mordred's mouth.
Rhonda pulled out a small scrap of cloth out of her pocket and used it to pinch Mordred's nose.
Mordred held on as long as he could, apparently hoping to actually sever Frank's arm before he had to breathe, but he wasn't up to the task. He loosened his jaw, and Frank jerked his heavily bleeding arm away.
“I... need... a cleric,” said Frank as he fell to the deck.
Tanner brought the shitbag down swiftly on Mordred's head while Tony the Elf set to work with the ropes.
Before long, he was once again securely tied to the chair, shitbagged, and wearing the anti-magic charms Cooper and Chaz had delivered him with. Once he was back in the Bag of Holding, Katherine breathed a sigh of relief.
“That was a close one,” she said. “But we all pulled together, and no harm was done.” She was trying to get into captain mode, but she felt more like a lame boss at a fast food restaurant.
“We don't know that,” said Rhonda. “He knows he's on a ship now.”
“Who gives a shit? The whole point of not letting him know where we were going was so that he couldn't cut us off at the harbor. Now that we're here, we've just got to get our asses moving, and he'll never be able to get here in time to see which way we've gone.”
“But he knows we're going somewhere, and we've just ruled out pretty much this whole continent for him.”
“What the fuck?” said Katherine. “Do you know how big the goddamn ocean is? Are you just looking for reasons to bitch? Mordred can sail his nerd ass from port to port for the rest of his life, and he will never find us.”
“He will if we stay here arguing all night,” said Frank. He pulled his healed arm out of a bucket of pink-tinted seawater and pointed at the pier. “Fritz, untie the boat. Stuart, pull up the anchor. Rhonda, prepare the –”
“HEY!” said Katherine, stopping everyone dead in their tracks. She climbed up onto the ballista mounted at the center of Nightwind's deck. “This isn't the Whore's Head, Frank. This is Nightwind, and I'm the captain. If you want to sail on my ship, you follow my orders.” She knew she was gambling on a mutiny before they even left the harbor, but fuck if she was going to be bossed around by this little prick aboard her own ship.
Frank surveyed the rest of the Whore's Head gang, then glared up at her. “Fine, Captain,” he said in a manner that might see him on a fishhook if he kept it up. “What are your orders?”
Katherine scanned her crew. “Show of hands. How many of you have any ranks in the Sailing skill?”
Much to her relieved surprise, four people raised their hands. Unfortunately, she didn't know any of their names. She didn't know most of these people's names, come to think of it. She hadn't spent a whole lot of time at the Whore's Head Inn, and hadn't cozied up to too many folks during her brief visits.
“Redshoes,” she said, pointing to a green-haired half-elf wearing red shoes. “Take the dwarf standing next to you, and you two go pull up the anchor.”
Redshoes saluted. “Right away, Captain.” Katherine thought he was fucking with her, but he immediately grabbed the dwarf's arm and led him toward the front of the ship. She wasn't sure if that was the standard she wanted to hold everyone to, but it was so refreshing for someone to not be a complete asshole.
“Yellowrobes and Baldy. You untie the ropes on the pier.” Baldy didn't have his hand raised, but he looked nimble enough to jump back onto the boat. She gave him the benefit of the doubt for knowing how to untie a rope.
“My name is Stuart,” said Baldy.
“Awesome.”
Baldy looked annoyed. “I helped rescue you from that vampire.”
“That's great. I don't need your fucking resume. You got the job. Congratulations. Now go untie the goddamn ropes.”
When the ship was no longer tethered to the pier or seabed, Katherine raised the mainsail. After some initial flapping, the sail filled out as it caught a small gust of wind. The ship lurched forward. As soon as they were clear of the harbor, she extended the wingsails on each side of the ship, and Nightwind really started to pick up speed.
It had been a long night, and most of the Whore's Head gang went below deck to claim a nook to sleep in. Katherine entrusted her Bag of Holding to the small group of elves who didn't require sleep. She instructed them on how to remove carbon dioxide from the bag and replace it with fresh air every ten minutes.
When she was satisfied that they had the hang of it, she joined Tanner sitting silently on the rear deck and watched the lights of Cardinia shrink farther and farther away.
“I didn't want to bring it up while everything was happening so fast,” said Tanner. “But I think I resurrected with an empty stomach. What have you got to eat on this ship?”
Katherine's sleepy eyes went wide. “Shit.”
Chapter 8
“YAAAAA–!” cried Tim as Vaeryn bit down hard on his forearm.
Vaeryn silenced him with an elbow to the face. She had wrested the gun from his grip and turned it on Dave, who raised his hands.
“Please don't shoot me,” said Dave, his heart pounding beneath his bare hairy chest. “I have a family,” he lied. “A beautiful baby girl. She just took her first steps the other –”
“Shut up!” snapped Vaeryn. Without completely taking her eyes off Dave and Tim, she warily scanned her surroundings. “Where are we? What is this place?”
“Walmart,” said Dave. “Men's department.” The fluorescent lighting was blinding after having spent so long holed up in the sewer. The scent of cotton and polyester blends was intoxicating.
Tim scowled at Dave as he rubbed the soreness out of his arm. “Why the fuck are we at Walmart?”
“You were rushing me! You were just talking about Walmart, so this was the first place that came to mind.” He suddenly remembered he was naked but for a pair of magic boots. “Also, I needed some clothes.”
Tim's expression switched from annoyance to terror. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me you teleported us to the very same Walmart that's crawling with cops who've just been shot at with this very gun?” He nodded toward Vaeryn, but she wasn't the
re. “Where the fuck did she – Oh no.” His terrified expression intensified as he patted down his pockets. “Son of a bitch! She swiped my goddamn ring!”
“I think that's a fair price to pay for you taking me hostage.” Vaeryn's voice came from socks and underwear, but it was moving toward novelty t-shirts. She was staying in motion to keep them from being able to pinpoint her location.
Tim raised both middle fingers and displayed them in wide arcs to make sure she saw them from wherever she was. “The joke's on you, princess. Enjoy your time on Earth. We're getting the fuck out of here. Pick me up, Dave.”
Dave lifted Tim from under the arms and cradled him like a baby. “Where to?”
“I don't give a fuck. Anywhere but – No, wait. I've got an idea. Do you remember where Lenny Johnson lives?”
“I think he still lives in his grandma's basement.”
“Right. Take us there.”
“You don't even like Lenny Johnson. Why do you want to go to his grandma's basement?”
“Because that fat fucker will have some clothes you can fit in, and he should be at work right now.”
“Good thinking. I might just take back the LOST DVDs he borrowed from me as well.”
“Awesome,” said Tim. “Just hurry up before somebody sees us.”
Dave closed his eyes and focused on his boot magic. “Teleport!” When he opened his eyes again, they were still in Walmart. “Shit.”
“Say it like you said it last time,” said Tim.
“I teleport we!”
Their surroundings failed to change.
Tim squirmed in Dave's arms. He was heavier than Dave remembered.
“What the fuck is going on, Dave?”
“I don't know. The boots aren't working.”
“Need I remind you that you're naked in a Walmart, and there are a bunch of confused and pissed-off cops just a few hundred feet away?”
“I'm very much aware of that,” said Dave. “The boots aren't fucking working.”
“Well click your heels together or some shit, or else we're going to get –”
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” screamed a woman who was pushing her cart through the men's department. Wider than she was tall, dressed in a chocolate-stained white tank top which didn't quite meet the grey sweatpants that miraculously managed to contain her enormous ass, she was the quintessential Mississippi Walmart shopper.
